by Micki Miller
“We are all three very careful. Before I came along, Ashton and Lewis were cautious in every way. Ashton keeps a minimal household staff. Those who work for us are loyal and well paid to keep their tongues behind their teeth. It’s the reason no one outside our home can speak ill of us with any certainty.”
She paused then, to see what Burke might say. Until she spoke again, nothing but the easy pace of their footsteps and the garden crickets sounded in the night.
“When it comes to the two of them,” Rose continued. “It’s merely whispered gossip and spoken only amongst the most salacious rumormongers lest someone call them out, or worse, put their word at risk of coming into question. Lewis maintains a townhouse not far from us. On occasion, he entertains there to keep appearances. But yes, we all live together in the same home.”
She stopped walking then and faced him. Crickets played their music without the accompaniment of their footfalls as she awaited his reaction to what she’d told him.
Tilting his head downward to meet her gaze, Burke said, “The gossips will get no confirmation from me.”
It had been so long since she’d spoken with such openness to anyone outside her home. None of the small handful of friends she’d made in her work on the Foundling Project knew her marriage was so far from conventional. Before she said more, though, she needed to know how much Burke knew about her.
“Do you know how I came to Ashton’s house?”
“He told me,” Burke said. His face then hinted at a smile. “Did you really smash your sister’s husband in the head with a pig?”
Rose hoped the moonlight was not bright enough for him to see her flush of embarrassment. If he knew about what she’d done to Piers, he must think her the worst kind of harridan. She wouldn’t lie, though, or even soften her deed. If he turned from her now it was just as well.
Rose held his gaze and said, “I did.”
“Good.”
To her astonishment, Burke gave her a full smile then, along with a nod of approval. It was the same expression Ashton had shown when she told him what she had done.
Most men would have seen her punished for such an offense against her own guardian, not praised. It seems Lord Darington shared certain unusual traits with her husband. She wondered if he shared others, or if he differed in his carnal interests.
“I envisioned it.” The words pounced from her mouth without her permission, as if she and Lord Darington were old friends, as if he was a confidant and she was free to speak her thoughts. At first, Rose wanted to take back her words and put a halt to the conversation while it was still amicable, and before it went too far, but then she didn’t.
Burke tipped his head to the side a bit, his sea-green eyes ever focused on hers. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Rose said. “Every time Piers put a hand on me I thought about what it would be like if I not only had the rights of self-sovereignty, but the physical strength to overpower him.”
“It sounds to me as if you did quite well with what you had.”
His approval shouldn’t have mattered, but for a reason she could not identify, it did. Perhaps it was the day’s fright, knowing a killer was still out there wanting to see either she or one of her two closest friends dead. Or maybe Lewis’s words, combined with Ashton’s encouragements, emboldened her. Whatever the reason, she held tight to her courage before it slipped away and she escaped into cowardice.
Rose lifted her chin and said, “Of late, my mind’s wanderings have been about you. About…”
It was as far as she could speak. She simply did not know how to pursue this any further. She wasn’t even certain what ‘further’ entailed. Her sister had never spoken to her about matters of intimacy. Ashton would explain it all to her, she had no doubt. But she was too embarrassed to ask. Besides, up until quite recently, she hadn’t been all that curious. As far as she was concerned, Piers had shown her more than enough to know such intimacies held no interest to her.
Or so she’d thought.
For a moment, Burke stood as still as the moon nailed to the sky, and Rose was sure she’d been too audacious. The man must think her far too bold for a lady and without due shame.
Slow and focused, he stepped toward her then, making her think of a lion stalking his prey. He didn’t stop until he stood so close to her she could swear the heat from his body warmed hers. His hand crossed the short distance between them, unhurried, dreamlike. The brush of his fingers along her jaw tingled. A slight pressure tipped her face upward. He bent, slow, not stopping until his lips were but a breath from hers.
“About,” he said in a low rumble, with a brush of his lips against hers. When he lifted his head, he was still close enough to warm her nose with his breath. “…This?”
“Yes,” she whispered back. And he again lowered his head.
The kiss was barely there, a mere touch, a tantalizing taste of this man. Rose strained upward, wanting more.
“And this?” he asked, touching his tongue to her lower lip. When she opened for him, he withdrew, just a little.
“Yes,” she said, tugging on his lapels.
His other hand was on her back, drawing her closer. Rose went willingly. At her eagerness, his passions enflamed. His kisses grew wild as he held firm her head in the clasp of his strong hand, keeping her in place. Not that it mattered. She didn’t want to leave.
The hand on her back slid downward, lower, and lower still, until he was cupping her, drawing her against him in an intimate manner ripe with sin. Rose’s breath became elusive while her heart pounded a mad beat against her ribs.
His other hand left her neck and slid around to her throat, gliding down, never lifting from her body. Then, in a move bold enough to shock, he caressed her breast. A thunderbolt of sensation shook her senses, leaving her dazed and unsteady. Rose made a sound. She knew she did. It was foreign, breathy, and distant, from a faraway world beckoning her with exotic promise.
Suddenly, everything tilted and Rose could swear she was floating. It took her a moment to realize Burke had lifted her into his arms. Then he was walking.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and every few steps he stopped to feed her more kisses. The cool night air, the crickets, the moon, all disappeared, along with the sound of his footfalls. He no longer walked on paving stones, but on a wood floor, then a carpet that absorbed the sound. They were inside his house.
Flashes of portraits and candlelight caught the edge of her vision as Burke carried her through his home.
He kissed her again, long and thorough, before carrying her up a wide, winding staircase. She could put a stop to this now. She should. However, if there existed a good reason for her to demand he set her back on her feet and take her home, it hadn’t the strength to tame her wants.
He carried her down a long corridor. Light ebbed and flowed on the fringe of her vision from the flames of interspersed wall sconces. The pulse of light and dim accentuated the excited strangeness of the moment.
And then he stopped. They were before a grand set of double doors Rose could only assume led to his bedchamber.
“If you want to leave, say so now,” Burke said, gazing down on her, his hooded eyes teeming with passion, his entire face expressive of his desire. A husky pitch thickened his already deep voice. “Once I carry you through this door, Rose, there’s no going back.”
Rose knew a moment of trepidation. He was giving her a chance to leave and if she didn’t, this night would change her forever.
Her life was content now, the way things were. But then she remembered the words of her companions. Life is unpredictable and could end at any moment. Lewis’s almost ended this very day. It could have been her, and maybe tomorrow it would. She did not want to live her life without knowing this part of womanhood.
Just tell him, Lewis had said. And he will take care of the rest.
Rose gazed up at his handsome face, at her desire reflected in the darkened depths of his eyes. Yes, she wanted him, too, wanted to know about these pleasures o
f which Ashton had spoken. She wanted more than the mere brush with intimacy Burke had shown her in his carriage.
“I don’t want to leave,” she told him, certain of that truth.
Burke shoved the door open with his foot and carried her over the threshold.
Inside, he backed against the door until it clicked shut. He set her on her feet, but he did not let go. For that, Rose was grateful. For her full blend of feelings, excitement, longing, even a bit of fear, left her balance a tremulous thing.
A small fire burned behind the grate. The flickering orange glow was the only light in the huge room. A variety of thick rugs softened the parquet floor. She caught sight of dark, masculine furnishings, a bed big enough for four among them.
Burke bent to her, taking her earlobe into his mouth for a small, but ever-sensual kiss. When he stood upright, her cloak dropped to the floor.
Before Rose had time to think about that, about what might come next, his lips were on hers. This was not like the frenzied kiss they’d shared in the garden. He took his time, exploring her mouth, inviting her into his. She calmed so at the unhurried pace, she hadn’t realized he’d unbuttoned her gown until it fell loose around her shoulders. It dropped to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric, soon followed by her petticoat.
Burke led her to step out of the garments before trailing his mouth down her throat, nibbling light kisses at the sensitive skin just over the top of her thin chemise.
He lowered himself then, his lips dragging more kisses across the fine lawn, not stopping until his mouth closed over the delicate fabric covering her breast. He opened his mouth farther and dragged his tongue across her tautening bud. Rose gasped, leaning against him as if she had no choice.
Burke drew back, blowing soft breezes on the dampened fabric. Her lips parted as she sucked in a full breath. Rose clutched his head, intending to thrust him away, as the sensation threatened to overwhelm her. All she did was hold onto him. Burke brought his lips to her again and kissed his way downward, over her stomach, upon her most intimate places.
She would have stepped back, thought to, for such could not be at all proper. But he held firm to her thighs, having what he wanted. Rose let him. She wanted it, too.
His fingers slid unhurried down the backs of her stocking-clad legs. At the end of the journey, he slipped one shoe from her foot and tossed it aside, then the other. Beneath her chemise, his warm hands glided back up her legs, searing a trail and drawing a gasp from her.
Burke looped his fingers in her garters before sliding them off. One by one, he removed her stockings, slow and methodical, his fingers sampling every inch of skin he laid bare.
Burke stood, taking her chemise with him, lifting it over her head, and dropping it on the floor with the rest of her garments. She stood before him, naked, suffused in a sudden vulnerability exposed to him this way. He must have sensed her apprehension, for when his hand crossed the short distance between them, he touched only her hands.
“I want to look at you, Rose.”
While she could not quite meet his eyes, she did not cower. He continued to keep a firm hold on her hands. A small string of pops sounded from the grate, and then the room was quiet again, and still, but for the travel of his gaze over her body.
What was he thinking? Was he disappointed?
Burke came to her again, close. He slid the pins from her hair and dropped them to the floor. Once her locks were free, he combed them with his fingers, and swept it all behind her shoulders where the ends brushed against her lower back. He retreated then, and continued his visual pursuit.
Rose grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She considered grabbing her clothes to cover herself and leaving, when he finally spoke.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Rose. You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
A question popped into her head, making her forget her state of undress. She set aside for a moment all thoughts about the path upon which she was embarking. Rose met his eyes now.
“Just how many unclothed women have you seen?” she asked.
Burke chuckled as he drew her close. “Rose, as of this moment, I can say in all honesty I can’t remember a single one of them.”
She smiled into their kiss, and soon thoughts of the others who’d come before her were no more than ashes beneath the fire. He lifted her again, this time, laying her upon the soft mattress. As he removed his shoes, shed his jacket, and yanked off his cravat, Rose gathered the counterpane so she could cover herself.
“Don’t, Rose. Don’t deny me this vision.”
She granted his want, though it was difficult. However, as Burke removed his shirt, she found herself forgetting her own nudity.
Never before had she seen a man bared so. Could they all be this magnificent? Arms of sculpted muscle boasted his strength. The broadness of his chest did not diminish without his clothing, sprinkled with dark hairs marking a trail into his trousers.
He stopped what he was doing. Burke was watching her watch him. Her face must have colored because he smiled the way he always did when something embarrassed her.
“It’s all right to look, Rose. Do I please you?”
She raised her head, allowing her vision a slow climb up his half-clothed body until her eyes met his. “Yes. I like the way you look. I like it very much.”
“Good,” he said through a grin before bending to kiss her.
He drew back to stand again, but she wanted more kisses. To her good fortune, Burke was happy to oblige.
He lay with her, kissing, touching, their passions rising. She grabbed his shoulders, hard muscle beneath heated skin. The feel of such utter masculinity further elevated her whetted senses.
He trailed kisses from her lips to her breast. This time, no fabric served as a barrier. Rose sucked in a breath as he drew her farther into his mouth. He shifted to her other breast, taking his time, building an inexplicable tension inside her.
Burke then kissed his way back to her mouth, tasting her bottom lip, and then her top, before delving in for a string of heated kisses. His hands roved, exploring where his lips had been, gliding down, farther down. At the power of his intimate caress, Rose cried out his name.
He whispered in her ear, calming words, though she couldn’t say what they were. She thought to take his hand away, as the sensations were too potent to bear. But then he stopped, and she found she didn’t want that either.
What was he doing? But then she knew. He was removing his trousers. The reservations of propriety and fear of the unknown slipped in to cool her passions. When Burke gazed at her again, he must have seen. It amazed her how attuned this man was to her feelings.
“It’s not too late to stop this,” he said, offering her egress even though it went against his earlier statement about no going back. His gentle fingers brushed the hair away from her forehead. “All you have to do is say so.”
She considered it. She truly did. Her life had been fine. These last months had given her naught about which to complain. Well, almost. She would never have a child. The sacrifice was huge, but peace always comes at a price. If she took this night for herself, for nothing other than selfish reasons, who was she harming? No one. No one at all.
“I’m not changing my mind,” Rose said. “Are you?”
He gave an airy chuckle, low and rough. “Not for all the fortunes yet to be mined.”
He kissed her then, moving as he did. His knee between hers, nudging her thighs so he could shift his body atop hers with intimate pressure. His breath grew harsh as his body began a gentle pulse, pressing against her, backing away, pressing against her again. Soon, Rose’s breath was as ragged as his was. She raised her hips to meet him, but, to her frustration, Burke took himself back.
“Tell me you want me,” he said on a hard breath. His eyes stayed on hers, the entirety of his body rigid. The pressure of his weight was both frightening and exquisite. “Tell me, Rose.”
“I want you, Burke. I do.”
Rose cried out at the sudden and unexpected pain. She struggled to get away from him, but he held her still with the strength and mass of his body.
“Be still, love,” he whispered into her ear. “It will pass. I promise. Just be still for a moment.”
Rose did as he said, but she didn’t believe him. It was all a lie. Everything Ashton had told her about pleasures was all a lie. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t enjoyable. It only hurt.
He continued to whisper comforts until time proved him right. The pain passed, just as he said it would. A yearning she couldn’t explain or understand took its place.
Rose opened her eyes. Burke gazed down at her, serious, concerned, his temples damp from his restraint. Still, he didn’t move. Using his thumb, he brushed away a tear.
“Please don’t cry, love,” he said, touching his lips to her brow. “It will be better soon. I promise.” He kissed her again, stroked her face with the backs of his fingers, and smoothed back her hair. After another minute or so of his tending, he said, “Rose, are you all right?”
“I…I think so. Are we done now?”
The smile he gave her was sweet, brimming with affection. “Only with the bad part.”
With his gentle motions, an inner heat built, coiling, searching, wanting. As if the same urgency charged through him, so too became his movements. And then, in a sudden rush, the world erupted.
Rose flew to the stars on mighty wings, becoming part of the mystery and magic of life. She was free of all restraints, no longer grounded to this earth. Her body soared. Her mind, uncomprehending. Intensity of pleasure so overtook her, she could not have uttered her own name.
****
Rose awoke to a dreamy haze and waning night, the promise of full dawn not far off. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Nothing of her surroundings were familiar, not the room, or its furnishings. She didn’t even feel familiar. That was a strange thought, however accurate.
With a slow, quiet motion, she turned her head. Sound asleep on his back beside her lay Burke. The sheet draped just below the firm muscle of his bare chest. She knew he was bare beneath the sheet, too. She was just as naked.
