With satisfaction, he recognized that he’d have to shut her up in the traditional way. Not that he needed encouragement to kiss her. He dug his hands deep in her tumbling hair and tilted her face up.
“Simon, you must—”
He lowered his mouth to hers, pressing her up against the door. Velvety darkness immediately surrounded him, darkness sweet with the warm scent of Lydia’s skin and the cool freshness of rain. He half-expected her to resist the kiss and continue pleading for him to flee his fate, but her lips opened immediately. Voluptuous heat enveloped him as she unhesitatingly kissed him back.
He’d been tired when he returned home. Tired and heartsick and uncaring that tomorrow his rival for this exceptional woman might bring his existence to a gory end. Now he felt ready to fight a pride of lions with his bare hands.
He lost track of time. The need to take the kiss further, to possess her, beat around him like a thousand wings. But eventually a thin sliver of reality pierced his euphoria.
He knew what he wanted to do. But in all honor, he couldn’t proceed.
Damn, damn, damn, he couldn’t.
On a muttered curse, he wrenched himself away from Lydia and untangled his arms from her body. His knees felt so unsteady, he supported himself by flattening his palms against the door on either side of her. Panting, he bent his head and struggled for control, for the resolution to let her go.
“Simon?” The panic in her voice made his heart fist in futile protest. “What’s wrong?”
He needed a few moments to catch his breath. His voice emerged raw and harsh. “This.” He forced himself to take another breath. “This is wrong.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me.”
His low laugh was bitter. “Good God, woman, I want you beyond bearing. But you deserve better. What if I put a child in your belly? We have to stop.”
She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers bunching his shirt as if she feared that he’d run away. “No, we don’t. I’ve waited all my life for you. I’m not waiting any longer.”
He raised his head and stared down at her in torment. Her eyes were dark with passion. How he longed to fling good sense to the winds, but he couldn’t. Not when his impetuosity had already done so much damage. “Tomorrow—”
“I don’t care about tomorrow. I care about now. And how I’ve missed you since you went away. And how… how I need you. We’ve let too much come between us. It’s time to take what we want.”
“But what if—”
She shook her luxuriant hair back from a face stark with determination. “Do you love me, Simon?”
On a groan, he slid one hand across th
e door to cup the back of her skull. “You know I do.”
She angled her chin and stared back with a bravery that stabbed him to the quick. “Then make love to me. Now.”
“Lydia—”
She lurched up and fitted her mouth to his, becoming pursuer instead of pursued. He fought to hold back, knowing that if he let his desire win, he wouldn’t be able to hold back, whatever the demands of principle. But she kissed him so urgently, as if she’d die if she stopped, that he couldn’t withstand her.
On another groan, he gave in. Helplessly he recognized that he was caught. He and Lydia were always meant to come together in a blinding flare of heat and passion. What happened tonight was merely the inevitable answer to the question he’d asked at Fentonwyck so long ago.
He couldn’t fight his destiny. He couldn’t fight her.
Still kissing her, he swept her up into his arms. Her hands twined around his neck as he strode through to his bedroom. Very gently he laid her upon the bed and kneeled over her, his tongue dancing with hers, his hands busy stripping away gown and corset in between kisses. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. He needed to make up for the time they’d been apart, the time when he couldn’t show her how he adored her.
He moved away to shuck his shirt over his head. His breeches were tight and uncomfortable over his swelling cock. He straddled her once more.
“I can hardly believe this is happening,” she said huskily, letting her hand drift down his bare chest to his abdomen. Her touch trailed fire, tightened the skin over his bones.
“Believe, my darling.” Ruthlessly he ripped away her shift. Every inch he revealed was more gorgeous. Her breasts were small and round and perfect, crowned with pink nipples pearled with excitement.
Quickly he untied her slippers and slid her stockings down her long, long legs. He watched her lovely face, noting the flush on her cheeks and the way her lips plumped red with kissing. This was what Lydia should look like, not the prim, contained woman he’d observed on Berwick’s arm at her betrothal ball.
He leaned forward to kiss her breasts. She shifted restlessly and sighed with pleasure. Burying her fingers in his hair, she brought him closer. He needed no further incitement. He worshipped her with his hands and his lips, loving that he gave her pleasure.