Page 70 of Regency in Color

Chapter Four

Thalia was certain she had died and gone to heaven. Sometime after arriving at Vauxhall, she must have stumbled off the path and bashed her head on a stone or some such. Her body lay in the dark, tangled in foliage and brambles, but her soul was in paradise. Surely that must be how she had wound up here, in the arms of the man who inhabited her deepest, most private fantasies.

She was being kissed by a duke. The Duke of Westerfield was kissing her. Stephen was devouring her mouth like a starving man, making her dizzy and weak in the knees.

No matter how she rephrased the words in her mind, they all narrowed down to the same wondrous thing. Her dream was coming true, though only for a short time.

It had to be enough. Thalia had realized hours ago that she was already lost. Her prediction had proven true and as the night went on, she fell deeper and deeper in love with the man who brightened her world by simply walking through a door every Saturday afternoon.

The noise of the festivities beyond the screen faded away, though Thalia could imagine that the lighting cast their shadows for any passersby to see. As if he’d had the same thought, Stephen backed her toward darkness—into the circle of crumbled pillars arranged to look like ancient Greek ruins. He pushed her against one of the smooth stones without breaking their kiss, his hands tight at her waist. Thalia melted into the kiss—not the first she had experienced, but certainly the most significant. Despite her lack of knowledge over what would happen next, she felt emboldened to experience all the things she had daydreamed about.

She ran her hands over the bulge of his chest and up his neck. She stroked his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. Stephen snatched his turban way with a rough grunt, and allowed Thalia to untie the ribbons of his mask. Once his entire face was revealed, Thalia leaned back to study him, finding him as magnetic as ever. She traced her fingertips over his thick, inky black eyebrows, then pushed a heavy lock of hair back from his brow. Once she had touched the silken strands, Thalia had to go back for more. She slipped her fingers through his locks, pulling him back to her for another kiss.

Her own mask had fallen to the ground minutes before, forgotten. There were no untruths between them now—no smoke and mirrors tricking them into thinking this was a mere dream or fantasy.

No, Thalia wasn’t dead. She was very much alive with both feet planted on the ground, and this was the truest thing she’d ever experienced.

“Thalia,” Stephen murmured against her mouth, his hands running up her back, fingers stroking the sensitive nape of her neck. “Thalia.”

She had never hoped to hear him utter her name at all, let alone in such a husky voice, heavy with desire. It was more than she’d dreamed, realizing that he wanted her. Was this what it felt like to be the sort of lady he could make a life with? It was an odd feeling, but one she could quickly become drunk on. Thalia felt beautiful and powerful and worthy in a way she hadn’t her entire life.

Stephen bent his knees so he was more level with her, and the firm, masculine planes of his body fit perfectly against her soft swells. Thalia had never given much thought to the parts of a man, but every inch of Stephen felt wondrous and warm. And tonight, he was wholly hers.

Not wanting to waste another moment when she could enjoy the full range of such freedom, Thalia began searching for the fastenings of his coat. Stephen helped her, showing her that the buttons were hidden beneath a flap of fabric. He shrugged out of the coat while Thalia made quick work of his shirt buttons. Together, they eased the garment off over his head.

Thalia was momentarily frozen to the spot as she took in the breadth and sheer might of him. It was easy to see that he was built like a Corinthian when he was fully dressed, but the splendor of his naked torso was enrapturing. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he took gentle hold of her wrists, guiding her hands to his naked skin. Her fingertips encountered whorls of dark, sleek hair. The skin beneath was hot to the touch and soft over the steely slabs of muscle.

“Touch me, Thalia,” he urged, guiding her hands downward. “I’ve wanted your hands on me all night.”

Thalia obeyed, grateful for his direction. Her uncertainty hampered the urges burning through her, filling her with sensations she’d never before experienced. Her pulse thundered against the thin skin of her throat as she explored him, tracing the light grooves between the muscles of his abdomen, skimming over flat nipples that tightened in reaction, trailing through the thicker line of hair arrowing into his breeches.

He murmured unintelligibly but the sound was encouraging, making it easier for Thalia to continue in her quest. Stephen’s hands came to her upper arms, slowly smoothing upward and leaving tremors in his wake. One hand moved to her back, releasing the first fastening of her gown. The bodice sagged, and his other hand dragged the cap sleeve down her arm. Thalia gasped when he dipped his head to kiss her bared shoulder toward the strap of her stays. No one had ever touched her there, but as he made his way back toward the curve of her neck, she realized that she’d never really been touched at all. Nerve endings she hadn’t realized she possessed sparked to life as he nibbled at her neck and the lobe of her ear, his hand steadily working to loosen her gown.

Thalia clung to Stephen as the frock pooled at her feet, his tongue finding the most delicious spot behind her ear—one that sent a swift lightning strike into her belly and heat suffusing through her core. Their hands met against her bosom, two sets of fingers tearing at the strings of her stays. Thalia finally let her hands fall and allowed Stephen to take over, too overcome to manage it herself. He never took his lips off her, kissing along her collarbone, then dipping his tongue into the hollow between her breasts as he loosened her stays.

Once she wore only her chemise, stockings, and slippers, Stephen gripped her waist and hoisted her up. With a gasp, she grasped his shoulders and let him wrap one leg around his waist. Her other leg followed, ankles crossed at his tailbone as he sought her mouth again. This time, the silky whisper of his tongue pressed to her lower lip, then pressed into her mouth. Thalia nearly swooned from the sensation of his tongue sliding against her own, allowing her own to push against his. They tangled and dueled, swift, heated breaths traded beneath them as Stephen went to his knees on the ground.

He gingerly laid her over his discarded coat, sprawling atop her his elbows supporting some of his weight. The rest of him pressed Thalia into the ground, the feel of him solid and comforting. Despite a niggle of fear at what was to come, Thalia felt safe. She felt treasured.

Tears stung her eyes, though they did not fall as she gazed into his eyes, finding them darkened and heavy-lidded. Thalia had supposed she might marry someday, and of course knew the basics of what went into siring children. However, she had never imagined that intimacy could be so liberating—so pleasant. She hadn’t thought that a man would ever touch her with such reverence or kiss her with such passion. This night would be a gift, despite the years of bereft emptiness stretching beyond it. That wasn’t Stephen’s problem, though; it was her own. Tomorrow, she would allow herself to mourn what could never be. Tonight, she would take all she could from this one encounter and pray it would be enough.

Stephen kissed his way from her chin to the edge of her chemise, slowly easing the fabric off her shoulders and over the mounds of her breasts. His heavy exhale brushed over the bared peaks, making her nipples furl tight in anticipation.

“Perfect,” he whispered as he gently cupped one and gave it a little squeeze. “You are so beautiful, Thalia. I’ve always thought so.”

She wanted to argue that that couldn’t be. Surely Stephen had never looked at her and seen anything other than a frumpy bookseller in spectacles. But as he used his other hand to gingerly lift the frames off the bridge of her nose, Thalia believed him. He could have told her that the sky had opened up and begun raining chocolate drops upon them, and Thalia would have taken it as truth.

Stephen kept his gaze on her face as he took her nipple between his first finger and thumb, giving it a light pinch. Thalia whimpered, her hips raising of their own volition to press her tighter against him. His thighs were brawny and thick, pressing against hers, and the hard swell of his arousal had found its target—pressed against her mons through the fabric of her chemise. Stephen pinched her again, a bit harder this time, then bowed his head over her and resumed the ministrations of his mouth.

Thalia floated on clouds of ecstasy as he kissed and nibbled at first one nipple then the other, his tongue warm and slick as it circled each peak. Her fingers tangled in Stephen’s hair, holding him close and urging him on. Her insides were a maelstrom, churning and heating and preparing her for something she couldn’t yet fathom.

She let her hands follow the sinewy paths of his body, reveling in the strength and control pulling the cords of his arms and shoulders taut. He trembled atop her, and she sensed him holding back. He might have gotten her agreement for the night, then proceeded to throw her down and take what he wanted. Instead, he was taking his time, allowing her to grow used to one intimacy before he moved on to another.

He groaned against her breastbone when her fingers encountered the fastening of his trousers, surging his hips against hers. The press of him against her most secret places sent flutters of delight through her, her gut clenching with the need for more.

She slowly slipped buttons from their holes as he raised one of her knees and then slid her chemise toward her hip. His hand tightened on her thigh as he worked his way steadily upward, pushing the limb open.

Tremors wracked Thalia from head to toe as the heavy organ between his legs fell free of the fabric. He was larger than she had imagined, but then she had no one to compare him to. She caught her lip between her teeth as he silently encouraged her to go on, nudging the weight of his erection into her palm. Thalia skimmed the bulbous head with her fingertips, then traced the length of him, finding a vein that pulsed with his heartbeat.