She experienced a slight twinge but no great pain. Indeed, the rush of joy, of love, of insatiable lust had her clutching his back and panting, “Don’t stop. Oh, Nicholas. I didn’t know it could be like this.”
Spurred on by her encouragement, the tempo changed quickly. He rose a little higher, brushing against her sex with each deep plunge. The bed rocked. Sweat coated his back. Their moans rang in unison.
She felt her release building deep in her core.
It tore through her in powerful waves. “Nicholas!”
Her insides clenched, hugging him hard.
“God, you’re beautiful in your release,” he panted. “I need to withdraw, though I could stay inside you forever.”
He left her body in a hurry, spurting his seed over her abdomen.
She stared at his handsome face in awe. He looked sated, relaxed, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Making him happy would be her life’s mission. Indeed, she was counting the minutes, the hours until they made love again.
ChapterFifteen
Oakmere Hall stood amid a hundred acres of verdant land, a majestic house built with honey-coloured stone and designed in the classic E-shape popular in the Elizabethan era.
Sadly, the place lost something of its charm as one drew closer.
The iron gates were rusty and barred to visitors. Algae and moss covered the thatched roof of the gatekeeper’s cottage. Despite waiting in the carriage for five minutes or more, no one appeared to greet them and bid them entrance.
“Perhaps Mr Holland rarely has visitors.” Helen rubbed mist from the glass and peered out of the window. “We should wait another minute or two. The keeper may be running an errand.”
Nicholas studied her, his gaze slipping over her body the way his hands had last night. Since making love, his obsession had reached new heights. She occupied every thought, every feeling.
Tell her!
Don’t wait another second!
“I’m in love with you, Helen.” He could no longer keep the depth of his feelings at bay. “I’ve been in love with you for some time. Last night merely clarified what I’ve known for a while.”
She shot round to face him, her frown giving way to a broad smile. “Might you repeat what you just said? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
“I love you.” Warmth infused his entire being, as if part of her soul lived inside him. “For Sebastian’s sake, I’ve spent two years trying to forget you, but to no avail. The more time we spend together, the more you touch me, kiss me, the more I know you’re the only woman I want.”
Her throat worked tirelessly before she found her voice. “I am? You do?” She pursed her lips. “Miss Ware said lovemaking can bewitch a man. That afterwards, he doesn’t know his own mind at all and thinks only of doing it again.”
Nicholas chuckled. “Miss Ware spends too much time reading novels. I assure you, I’ve loved you since you fell in the mud while rescuing that stray dog at the Thornborough Fair.” Though with each passing day, he grew more besotted. “I’ve loved you since you tried dancing around the maypole and got your ribbon tangled. Since you stroked Sebastian’s cheek after Michael died and promised he would be happy again.”
Speaking about Sebastian left him swamped in a tidal wave of guilt. As happy as he was at this moment, they still had a violent storm to weather.
“Nicholas, that was over two years ago.”
He’d felt the initial jolt of attraction long before then. “I was in love with you when I comforted you at your mother’s graveside.” It felt good to reveal what he’d hidden for so long.
She sat forward. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“For fear of sounding like Sir Thomas’ silly parrot, Sebastian convinced me you saw me as a brother.” And a man did not prey on a woman who was grieving.
“But we’ve spent two years secretly loving each other. Two years spent making polite conversation while imagining a host of romantic scenarios. Time is precious. You know that.” She threw her arms up in exasperation. “What if Mr Chadderton had compromised me, and I’d been forced to marry him? What if you’d died in that wreckage and never told me how you feel? What if we’d never had this opportunity to be alone together?”
He waited until she sagged back in the seat, exhausted from her little tirade. “You ask many questions, but I mean to address only one.”
“Which is?”
When a man loved a woman, he did not draw attention to her hypocrisy or hurl accusations to win the battle. He focused on the only thing that mattered: making peace, showing how deeply he cared.