“Neither.” The bed dipped as he sat at her side. “Lost all interest in gambling when you tossed me aside. Deuced unlucky of me. Would you believe Walter handed over the key to me with his best wishes?”
“No.” She swallowed the hard lump lodged in her throat. “He would never do such a thing.”
“Wrong. He’s not completely under your thumb as you imagine, for which I must say I am extremely grateful. Walter has been surprisingly helpful in my wish to speak with you privately.”
A heavy weight settled on her legs. His hand? Imogen fought to breathe as she shook off the sensation she’d lost control of her relationship with Peter. The man she remembered was so lacking in passion he would never dream of risking her reputation. “We’ve already spoken several times since your return. I’ve told you we do not suit.”
He swept his hand up to her hip and she trembled at the storm of sensations his caress caused in her. She slapped her hand over his, holding his wandering fingers in place.
“If you recall our final conversation a year ago I disagreed.” He touched her jaw with his fingertips so lightly she held her breath. “I should have fought harder. When you had no reason to pity me you couldn’t get out of the engagement fast enough, discounting any future we might have had together. I gather you wanted a malleable husband and a man with a title and money of his own would never do. The day my inheritance was confirmed you ended us.”
She huffed at his claims. “There was hardly any us.”
“No.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder and skimmed the skin of her neck above her nightgown. “I should apologize for being too much of a gentleman before, I suppose. I never laid more than a finger on you to prove otherwise and I find I regret not being clearer the first time very much.”
Imogen clenched her hands together to control her shaking. What had happened to the carefully polite gentleman of last night? “Hardly the behavior of an ardent suitor.”
Peter brushed her cheek with his lips. His hot breath fanned over her skin to give her gooseflesh down her arms. “So, it’s true you would have had me be wicked and steal a kiss or two before we married?”
Imogen shifted back against the headboard and crossed her arms over her chest. Her breath came in a rush and she couldn’t calm it. “If the idea had occurred to you I’m sure you would have done something about it long before now.”
His wide palm cupped the side of her head and eased her toward him. “Imogen, the idea occurred to me. I just didn’t want to make a mess of yet another situation. But that was a year ago and I’m no longer a patient man.”
As she took her next breath, Peter’s lips crashed against hers, tossing her theory he wasn’t attracted to her out the window. His arms encased her in warmth. Desire flooded her senses. She struggled to know how to respond as Peter took command of the kiss. He tugged at her lips, the tip of his tongue danced across the tender skin until she gasped.
A groan left him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and tangled with hers. He pulled her closer, into his arms, freeing her from the barrier of the sheets that stood between them. He cupped her face as he softened the embrace, pressing kisses gentler than she had ever expected to her lips. “Should have done that long ago,” he whispered when he drew back momentarily.
The next instant he kissed her fiercely and her limbs turned to butter. She melted and threaded her fingers in his hair, anchoring herself to him so she didn’t fall. But she was already falling. Falling straight into a desire she had dreamed about, written about, but never experienced or expected to. Peter. She had not imagined such passion from him. The man was full of surprises. Being alone with him in the dark was more intimate than she’d thought possible.
He released her mouth and kissed along her jaw.
Imogen took a moment to gather her scattered wits. Peter was in her bedchamber making love to her neck as if he had the right to. As if they hadn’t spent an entire year apart from each other and were even greater strangers now than a year ago. Never mind his kisses were lovely, so thrilling they made her blush to the soles of her feet. If they were found together her reputation would be ruined. The gossip would be brutal and Peter might feel honor bound to propose to her. She couldn’t allow him to sacrifice his freedom just because he might be lonely.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Stop. You must stop.”
He drew back. Urgency threaded into his breathing, the pant of it fast over her cheek. “Why must we? It’s very clear we both desire each other.”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Oh, Imogen. Kissing you is the most right thing I’ve ever done. Accepting the end of our engagement last year was a mistake I don’t intend to make again.”
She shook her head. The man couldn’t mean that. “If it was a mistake then why did you not come back sooner?”
“Because you told me you could never love me and I was fool enough to believe that was the only reason you ended it,” he whispered against her neck. “I planned to return the second the title was bestowed, but I confess I was still bitter about how things ended between us. I attended balls and parties, the opera and even a house party or two with new acquaintances. Do you know what I thought at each one? I wondered whether I would have enjoyed them more if I’d had you at my side.”
“I wouldn’t have seen any of it. My eyesight had failed well before Christmas.” A bitter pain pierced her chest. “I woke one morning and couldn’t see even my hand when I held it before my face. Poor Walter. I cried for days and he didn’t know what to do to comfort me.”
Peter kissed her again. “I wish I had been here to comfort you. I would have held you in my arms, wiped away your tears and promised to never leave your side.”
It was good to know she hadn’t underestimated his character. She’d believed he would stay, would have allowed their marriage to occur out of a sense of responsibility. She knew him well and had made the right decision then as she would now. “That’s no life for you, Peter. You deserve so much more.”
He shifted on the bed until she lay comfortably over his lap. The position was one she’d never been in before. She felt cosseted and wanted yet free of restraint. He nipped at the skin of her throat. “What I deserve is a lifetime of your kisses and a first look at the next K. D Brahms novel before anyone else.”
“If only that were possible.” She sighed and arched her neck so Peter could continue if he was inclined. To her delight he devoted severa
l more minutes to her throat before he stopped and simply held her against his chest. This side of Peter she wished she’d experienced when she’d been able to see the passion in his eyes. “I cannot write.”
“Yes, you can,” he insisted as he settled a warm hand on her waist. The thin barrier of her nightgown proved little impediment to knowing where each one of his finger lay. “I’ll be your eyes, fingers, and your willing assistant to do whatever your heart desires.”