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Wakefield leaned in, his voice a venomous hiss. “Boy, you have no idea what I am capable of.”

Thorn’s shoulders tensed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “If you harm her in any way, I swear to God I will never forgive you.”

“Not only will you forgive me,” Wakefield sneered, “you will thank me.”

“I won’t,” Thorn warned.

“If you want her to keep her job, you will stop this foolishness immediately.”

Thorn swallowed, words failing him as a thousand thoughts crashed through his mind. Did he have any recourse? It was either obey—or be thrown out.

He could survive without an allowance. He had connections, friends, family.

But would Lily?

Wakefield turned away, grumbling under his breath. “Your peers are out there fighting a war while you’re here—God knows what’s on your mind.” He spat on the polished floor. “What did I do to deserve a disappointment like you?”

Wakefield stalked toward the door, then paused, his hand resting on the ornate handle. “You have twenty-four hours to decide if you want to remain my son and cut all ties with the maid.” His voice was cold, final. “Or you can both rot.”

Chapter 18

She couldn’t stay, she knew that.

For many reasons.

But all those reasons evaporated from her mind when he kissed her.

Very well, I can allow one kiss.

Only one turned into two, two into three, and then she lost count as he was lowering her to the floor, his hands roaming her body, slowly, reverently, softly, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He looked deeply into her eyes.

“I want more Lily,” he whispered.

“Lydia,” she whispered back.

He nodded. “Lydia. I want more than just a single kiss. I want all of you. And I don’t want it just tonight. I want forever.”

She shook her head. “You don’t even know me anymore.”

“I do.” He kissed her on her lips again. “You taste the same.” Another kiss. “You feel the same.” He kissed her neck, his beard pleasantly prickling her skin, and then inhaled deeply. “You smell the same.”

“It’s been too long,” she countered.

“And yet…” His nimble fingers were undoing the buttons on her shirt. He watched her with a pain-filled gaze. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered as his hands studied the outlines of her waist, then lower to her hips, her thighs.

Lydia didn’t protest. She didn’t mind him doing whatever he wanted. Because she wanted it too.

She craved to be in his arms again, and damn the consequences.

He had abandoned her when she needed him the most. He had left her to rot when he could have saved her with one bloody coin tossed her way. He didn’t have to marry her, though he’d promised. But he could have helped.

The frustration inside her mixed with the heat in the pit of her belly as he proceeded to kiss her legs, starting from the tips of her toes and moving higher and higher. He kissed her ankles, along her shin, her knee. Then he dipped his head and licked her skin, tickling her, while his hands massaged her thighs.

Slowly lowering his hands, he pressed her knees apart.

Lydia gasped, lying open before him, her single shirt collected at her waist, uncovering her most private place for him.

He looked at her like a man possessed, his eyes glinting with hunger.