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She nodded. “I lived with Lydia until I couldn’t any longer. The life of intrigue and thievery wasn’t for me, so I sought a position as a governess or a companion… and landed on becoming a housekeeper.” She smiled slightly. “And it was the first stable, calm, loving home I have ever experienced. And I hoped I could stay here forever, but the idea of Elise joining the ton, the guests—many of whom are part of my previous life—filling the house… it rocked me. Seeing Bradshaw at the theater sent me over the brink.”

“So you decided to run again.”

“Yes. The night of the masquerade. Lydia was going to steal something very valuable, and we were going to escape from England, and then…” She trailed off, remembering how everything had changed that night.

“And then you walked into my room,” he finished for her, his voice gentle.

She stilled, confusion rising inside her. “What?”

“You came into the room where I waited for a courtesan.” There was no judgment in his voice, no surprise.

“How do you know that?” she asked, surprised, then another thought sent her heart racing. “Have you known all along?”

“No, although I think a part of me always knew. Or wanted to believe it was you.” He moved closer to her again, his steps measured. “I found out yesterday. I went into your room and saw your mask by your bed. I was going to tell you when we were in the glasshouse but got… distracted.”

Heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered what had transpired in the glasshouse. “Right.”

He stopped before her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Is that when you decided to stay?”

“Yes.” She looked up at him. “I hoped… I don’t know what I hoped for. I just knew I could not leave like that. Not without knowing if you could ever feel the same way I feel about you.”

His eyes softened, a vulnerability there she’d never seen before. “How do you feel about me?”

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Like… I am home.”

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, he reached out to cup her face in his hands.

When their lips met, it was the gentlest kiss. He kissed her tenderly, reverently even, holding her face like she was made of glass. He gently stripped her of her clothes and quickly discarded his own. Taking her into his arms, he laid her softly on his bed, then proceeded to kiss her on the mouth, on the neck, and lower, tracing the topography of her body with his tongue, worshipping every inch of her.

He pressed his palms to her knees and drew them apart. He paused, his eyes burning with desire as he stared at her core.

Honoria gasped, meeting his eyes, her lips parted. Not taking his gaze off her, he split her feminine lips with his finger, caressing, touching, teasing. She threw back her head, her fingers tangling in the sheets.

He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze again, a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

There!

He opened his mouth and touched his tongue to her flesh, tearing a cry from her lips, while she grew increasingly wet between her thighs. He licked her there, sucked on her most sensitive place, drank in her juices, devouring her, until she fell apart in his arms, her breathless cries filling the room.

Except he didn’t stop even then, continuing his ravenous meal, bringing her to the brink of pleasure then guiding her over the edge again and again, the waves of ecstasy overwhelming her and leaving her trembling.

He took his time, learning what made her gasp and whimper, what made her fingers tighten in his hair. The room filled with the sounds of her pleasure, her ragged cries of his name like a prayer.

She lost count of how many times he brought her to bliss. Each time was different—some sharp and sudden, others building slowly like a rising tide.

When at last he moved up her body to claim her mouth again, she tasted herself on his lips, his beard damp with the evidence of her complete and utter surrender.

The sensation only heightened her need for him once more. She spread her thighs, drawing him closer, welcoming his heat inside her as they continued their sensual dance over and over, until they collapsed against each other, breathless, boneless, completely spent… and happy.

Chapter 22

“I have to go,” Honoria whispered as she shifted on his chest.

“Where?” he grunted and tightened his arms around her, refusing to let her go. She was not going anywhere. Not if he could control that.

“The servants will be rising soon.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Let them rise.”