Dashiell cradled her face in his hands for a deep kiss of his own. He brought her up against the hard planes of his body, his desire evident. There was urgency to their kiss, a need to be quickly fulfilled as if the carriage ride had proved too long and they could not wait a moment longer. His urgency was contagious and Elisabeth responded in kind, her fingers rapidly working his shirt.
He danced her back towards the bed but she murmured a protest. ‘Let me do the taking this time,’
Dashiell granted her request with a naughty smile. ‘Are you ready to ride astride, my lady? Your stallion awaits.’
Elisabeth gave him a playful shove and followed him down to the rope-strung bed. She was astraddle him; her skirts rucked about her thighs as she tugged off his trousers, leaving him entirely bare to her gaze. The sight of him stopped her in fascination. She had not yet seen him, really seen him in the broad light of day and it was mesmerizing. She took him in her hand, almost reverently stroking the tender tip of him, amazed at the contrast between the velvety tip and the iron length of him.
She watched a milky pearl bead and she let herself revel in the textures of him until he called out in rasping restraint, ‘It’s time, I won’t last much longer.’
His hands were on her hips guiding her movements until she was poised above him, the jutting tip of his hardness a teasing whisper at her entrance. She lowered herself onto him, taking pleasure in the look of rapture on Dashiell’s face as she took all of him. Elisabeth began an instinctive rhythm, slowly at first as she learned the feel of him, the pulse of him from on top. From here, she was fully in charge of their pace. His pleasure was her pleasure.
Beneath her, Dashiell groaned his satisfaction, his body tightening as she brought him, brought them, to their release.
Spent, she collapsed against Dashiell, her head on his chest. The fast thrumming of his heart confirmed she was not alone. She could feel the pace of his heart fast at first and then gradually slow to a sonorous, steady beat. ‘I think this is what it must be like when a star is born,’ she whispered. She’d not guessed how much power, how much confidence could be found in pleasuring a lover. It was heady and complete, and entirely unlike anything she’d ever known.
‘Well, we’ve birthed stars, Elisabeth. What next?’ Dashiell said with a mischievous grin she could not quite see from where she lay against him but she could hear.
‘I’m not sure anything could top that.’ Elisabeth smiled against his chest.
‘How about a hot bath and shopping?’ Dashiell murmured with a laugh.
‘Well, maybe those are a close second.’ She laughed, too, but the smile she hid against him was bittersweet. How would she give him up when the time came? How would she go on from here knowing she would never feel such release again? Elisabeth shoved those thoughts away. They had no place in the magic hours she and Dashiell had carved out for themselves. Nothing mattered until tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
Elisabeth could not remember a more enchanting afternoon. She had wiled a way afternoons in the best mansions of Mayfair, strolled the best gardens England had to offer on the arms of wealthy young men with supposedly good breeding, but none of those experiences rivaled the joy of roaming the rough-cobbled streets of Burnham-on-Crouch, her hand tucked through Dashiell’s arm. The wind was cold off the water and Burnham was surrounded by it; the main street of the village faced the ocean and the town was bordered by the north end of the River Crouch. But beside her, Dashiell radiated heat and Elisabeth hardly felt the chill at all.
It was Dashiell they shopped for. She had the luxury of her valise and the foresight of having packed a few things for an overnight stay. But Dashiell had left Sir Richard’s with nothing but the clothes on his back—and evening clothes at that. He needed more than his silver-buckled shoes if he meant to tromp the hills with her at night. The mercantile on Front Street had what they needed and they were able to purchase Dashiell suitable boots and trousers and a heavy shirt along with a razor and shaving supplies, although Elisabeth laughed, insisting she liked the rugged stubble that darkened his jaw.
The streets were full of well-wishers and holiday shoppers gathering up various goodies for Christmas dinner. Best of all, the sky stayed clear, unpolluted by coal smoke. Towards the end of their excursion, Dashiell began gathering goods for a picnic. They stopped for cheese, for bread, for ham and even a bottle of wine until the basket was full.
Elisabeth gave one last look at the sky before they returned to their little room behind the inn. Dashiell squeezed her hand. ‘The weather will hold. You will have a clear night.