did look up then. The brown eyes that could look so cold seemed pansy-soft in the lamplight. ‘We were young and foolish. We were to marry, so what did it matter? And Piers was inexperienced. You, I think, are both experienced and not inclined to be careless.’
Avery could argue that all the care in the world was sometimes not enough, but somehow his prized self-control was slipping away, sand through his fingers. Tomorrow he would take that huge risk with his life and his heart and with Alice’s love. Tomorrow he would disregard all the lessons of his own parents’ disastrous marriage.
Tonight he would lie with this woman who was ruining his sleep, haunting those dreams he could snatch from a few hours of slumber. He would not get her with child and he would purge himself of this obsession, replace it with clear-eyed logic. A small, cold voice of common sense told him that neither could be guaranteed by force of will, but he was sick of common sense.
‘You will be missed from your room.’ The handful of sand had almost trickled away.
‘I told my woman to leave me. As you have sent your valet away. It seems we value being alone—that is one thing we have in common, you and I.’
‘Beside Alice there is little else,’ he said as he crossed to her side. ‘Except this.’
She quivered as he trailed one finger down her neck, over her breast to lift out the golden chain, warm from her flesh, but she did not speak, only turned so her back was to him.
Avery lifted the weight of hair and kissed the nape of her neck as he began to unfasten the gown. He was slow because his fingers were not steady and slow because he wanted to prolong this moment, this silent surrender, this unexpected trustfulness. Under his lips the delicate skin over her spine was cool satin vanishing into fragile lawn and lace.
He unfastened the gown and pushed it from her shoulders to pool at her feet, brushing down his legs, covering his evening shoes. The wisp of a camisole was next and he followed it down with his hands, over the hardness of the corset, down to the feminine curve of her hips, then back up to free the laces.
Laura sighed as he loosened the garment, tossed it aside and bent to kiss the red marks it had left on her tender skin. Only then did he allow his hands to circle her waist and then drift up to cup the weight of her breasts, his thumbs sliding over the hardening tips. She murmured something too softly for him to hear and tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder and he closed his eyes while he struggled to find control and finesse and care.
She lifted her hands and pushed down the remaining petticoat, then turned slowly, within his embrace, to stand naked in front of him. There was colour on her cheeks and her eyes were lowered and it came to him that, for all her directness and bravado, Laura was shy. It has been a long time, she said. Six years for a sensual, beautiful woman who had known physical passion was indeed a long time. Time to ache—and time to grow reticent.
‘Would you like me to put out the light?’ he asked.
She looked up at that, eyes wide. ‘Oh, no! I want... I want to see you.’ A smile trembled on her lips. ‘I want to be very bold and I fear to shock you.’
‘Shock me?’ Avery tugged his neckcloth free and stripped off coat and waistcoat. ‘I would love you to shock me, Laura.’ He finished undressing, arousal stoked by her unwavering gaze. When she ran her tongue along her lower lip he almost lost control like a callow youth. He dragged a deep, steadying breath down into his lungs. ‘Show me. Let me show you.’
It had worked. She was naked with Avery in his bedchamber, all that remained was for them to be discovered and she had done what she could to ensure that. Now she had to deliver what she had promised and her courage was failing her for so many reasons.
He looked so like Piers and yet so different, so unsettlingly different. This was no idealistic, lovestruck youth, still growing into his body and his confidence. This was a man, self-assured, experienced and physically in his prime. And the overwhelming masculinity and sexuality he exuded shook her own poise. She desired him, he, very obviously, desired her, but it was six years since she had lain with a man. Could she entrance him sufficiently that he allowed her to stay the night, that he became careless of discovery?
She was acting out of calculation, acting against every instinct except the one that propelled her towards Alice. And yet she could not hate this man. She still could not find it in her to forgive him taking Alice, sending Piers back to war, but in everything else she desired and liked him. I love him, she realised, her breath taken by the realisation. I love him and I am going to betray him.
The only way she could go on was by drugging herself with lovemaking. Laura reached out and laid her palms on his chest, curled her fingers and raked down, lightly scoring. Avery closed his eyes and growled, deep in his throat, but he did not move as her hands moved downwards, winnowed through the coarse curls on his chest, circled his navel. She felt the skin tighten under her fingertips and she stayed still, deliberately tormenting him. Who would break first?
To her amazement he did. ‘Touch me,’ he ground out and opened his eyes, green and intense.
So she did, not tentative and not gentle, taking him in a bold grasp, stroking hard from tip to root and back. ‘Like that?’
‘Like that,’ he agreed and lifted her, both hands under her buttocks, and pushed her back onto the bed so her legs dangled over the side as her shoulders hit the mattress. It was outrageously arousing after the memory of Piers’s tentative, gentle caresses. Heat flashed through her and when he stroked between her thighs with arrogant possession she knew she was already wet for him.
‘Now,’ she gasped and reached for his shoulders as he bent over her, his feet planted on the floor, the high bed presenting her wantonly to him. Her conscience stirred and she blanked her mind to it the only way she knew how. ‘Now. Avery.’
He did not hesitate. One thrust and he entered her, filled her, shocked her into startled awareness of him, only him. Avery froze, poised over her, deep within her. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No.’ He had not, only overpowered her with his size and his certainty. ‘I am not sure I can move, though.’
‘Curl your legs around my hips,’ he prompted and, as she obeyed, ignoring the stab of pain from her ankle, the pressure eased. ‘Ah.’
Avery began to move slowly, his arms braced either side of her, his eyes never leaving her face as though he was reading her thoughts, her soul. It did not occur to Laura to close her eyes and escape that gaze as he remorselessly drove her higher and higher, tighter and tighter until she began to writhe and sob beneath him, begging for release. He shifted the angle and growled, ‘Come for me’, and she did, shockingly, suddenly.
When she surfaced out of the darkness and back to herself Avery was still moving within her, but he had shifted again, brought her up with him to lie on the bed. ‘Again,’ he ordered.
‘I...I can’t.’
In answer he bent his head to her breast, kissing, licking, nipping while she reached helplessly to caress the autumn-leaf hair, threading her fingers through the springing strength of it, holding him to her. The careful, sliding penetration had changed into a demanding rhythm that built the need back up in her, hot and swirling and tight almost to the point of pain.
‘Avery.’
