Page 91 of Bane Bloom

“Yes, quite.”

The mirth gradually evaporated from his countenance, and the light went from his eyes. The bubbling feeling in my chest went with it. “I hope you will consider, Catherine, because though you know all my secrets now, nothing has changed. Whatever I might want, you don’t belong at Pine Cottage. You don’t belong with me. You belong with someone who can give you a real life, with a chance of happiness for both of you.”

My heart was pounding, my blood fired by fear, anger, and desire. I pulled my hands free from his and took hold of his wrists. I felt them flex under my fingers, and I noted the surprise in his eyes.

“Say what you will about where I belong and what I deserve. I will give it as much consideration as I would coming from anyone who has no authority over me. If you wish me to heed your words, you must speak different ones.” I leaned closer to him. “You must say, ‘I won’t have you.’”

He stilled. Not even his expression changed. But there were signs I’d reached him. Light flickered in his gaze, and his bare chest quaked under the assault of his heart.

“Well?”

Thomas

Her chest rose and fell with the quick rhythm of her breaths, which I felt as gentle puffs of air from her parted lips. Her dark eyes had gone darker still, yet they were gleaming and liquid.

She had unleashed her frustration and anger on me, but all I could hear and feel was her desire, as if it were a living thing that I could touch.

I had done my level best to prevent this, and I had failed. Now she was offering me a path to success.

“Well?” she breathed.

I drew my wrists toward my chest with her still attached, unbalancing her so that she tipped toward me. The moment she let go, I caught her against my chest, taking her mouth with mine. A murmur of surprise sounded in her throat, and then her hands came to the sides of my face before slipping into my hair. I shuddered and groaned, feeling as if the earth were quaking beneath us.

She was a small thing gathered to my heart. Not fragile or frail, but bright with fire, like the delicate veins of lightning that danced along the long, bony ridge of Haystacks fell.

She tried to sit up, and I loosened my grip so she might break free if she wished. But no. She wriggled closer still, tugging at her skirts until she had slipped onto my lap, a leg coming to rest on either side of me.

“For God’s sake, lass,” I protested, even as my hands slid from her waist over her hips and down her thighs, fingers meeting flesh exposed by her hiked-up skirts. I pushed one stocking down below her knee and dragged my hand back up over bare skin, her shuddering sigh further chipping away at the barriers I’d laid for her protection.

I had known passion. As a young man I’d fallen under the nymph’s spell, and soon after, I’d been claimed by Elfame’s queen. I’d had no notion of a difference between lust and love then, and had only come to understand through books that one could exist without the other. Now I was discovering through Catherine that when joined together, they became a force far stronger than a man’s best intentions.

“What comes next, Thomas?” Her voice was breathy and ragged in my ear.

I bent my head, burying my face in her neck. “I am lost, lass,” I whispered, heart hammering. “You must tell me.”

She laughed, her legs squeezing my hips as she steadied herself, and again I groaned. “Well, if you don’t know,” she said, “I’m sure I don’t!”

Her first time, then. A woman from London, beyond blushing maidenhood . . . I hadn’t been sure. She hadn’t shied from letting me feel her desire these last few days. Yet in my heart, I’d known.

“Put your arms around my neck,” I murmured into her sweet, silken skin.

She did, and I stood, one hand gripping each of her thighs as I set a knee down on the bed and lowered her.

Propping myself over her, I dipped my head and tasted her mouth again, the position allowing me to probe deeper. Her hands came to my sides, gliding up my ribs and down my back. My hips pressed into her without me willing it—and she pressed back, causing another long shudder to ripple through me.

I nuzzled her cheek and brought my lips to her ear. “Tell me what you want, Catherine.” I drew back so I could see her face.

Her hand came to the center of my chest, her gaze holding mine. “I want to be yours. I want all of you. Beyond the point of any return.”

It took every ounce of my control to move slowly now. Again I kissed her swollen lips, then trailed kisses down her neck to her chest. I reached down and grasped the hem of her skirt, tugging it up before letting my hand glide up her side and over one breast. She arched her back, pushing into my caress, and I let my fingers skim just inside the neckline of her dress.

I raised my hand to her cheek, tilting her head back, and said, “Whatever people up in London, or even in Buttermere village, may believe, you may always return. I would never repay you for giving yourself to me by locking you in a cage.”

I touched my lips to hers once more and then scooted down the bed, pushing her skirts up around her waist. I peeled each stocking away and trailed kisses up the inside of her thigh. She moaned and wriggled, and then her hand covered one of mine. She pulled it between her legs, causing my heart to heave.

“Thomas!” she hissed as my fingers slipped between the wet, fleshy folds of her.

She pressed into my hand, and I bent over her and replaced my hand with my mouth, tasting her. She gasped, hand coming to the back of my head, and after only a few moments of this attention, I felt the subtle shift that came before her unraveling. One hand grasped at my head while the other knotted in the coverlet. She uttered a startled sound, and her whole body tensed.