A Gentleman's Honor (Bastion Club 2) - Page 80

“Checking these locks.”

The windows gave onto the narrow area separating the house from the street. “Jenkins checks the locks every night, and I suspect Maggs does, too.”

“Very likely.”

Halting in the middle of the floor, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Do you approve?”

“No.” Tony turned from the windows, through the dimness studied her. “But they’ll do.” For now.

Until he could think of some way to improve the defenses he felt compelled to erect about her. He needed to know she was safe. He wanted her his. In the circumstances, satisfaction would—indeed needed to—come in that order.

The reality had come crashing down on him as he’d sat beside her in the carriage and sensed the flickering and skittering of her nerves, her growing agitation. After all she’d been through in the last two days, what woman wouldn’t be on edge?

This was not the time to press his suit, regardless of the strength of their passions. Aside from all else, he hadn’t forgotten her earlier mistake over him expecting her to be grateful. Hadn’t forgotten Ruskin’s diabolical scheme—“gratitude” demanded as payment for protection.

Now he was her protector, in more ways, more arenas, more effectively established than Ruskin had ever stood to be.

No. He wanted her safe, wanted her to know she was safe, and had no need to thank him further. No need to come to him out of gratitude.

He didn’t want her in that way, didn’t want her to come to him with any complicating emotions between them. He wanted much more from her.

When she came to him, it

had to be because she wanted to, because she wanted him as he wanted her.

That simple—that powerful.

To gain all he wanted, to achieve all his goals, that point was critical. He didn’t question why that was so, but knew absolutely that it was.

She was watching him, puzzled, increasingly tense.

He crossed the room to her. She watched him approach, but didn’t move. Either toward him, or away.

Halting in front of her, through the shadows he looked down on her upturned face. Slowly raising both hands, he feathered his fingers along her delicate jaw, then cupped her face, framed it as he tipped it up, bent his head, and set his lips to hers.

She opened to him readily; she kissed him back, not urging him on, yet not denying their mutual hunger. Her hands rose, her soft palms lightly clasping the backs of his, a subtle, accepting, very feminine caress.

For long moments, they stood in the cool dark, their bodies inches apart and, mouths melding, giving and taking, drank each other in.

The distant chiming of a clock broke the silence, reminding him of time passing. Reluctantly, he drew back; equally reluctantly, or so it seemed, she let him.

Lifting his head, he looked into her face, into the soft pools of her eyes. He couldn’t read their expression, but he didn’t need visual cues to know that she was as aware as he, as achingly, tormentingly conscious of the sensual whirlpool that was swirling about them, of the sheer strength of the attraction that had grown into so much more between them.

He lowered his hands, had to clear his throat to find his voice. “I’ll leave you then.” Despite his determination, there was the tiniest hint of a question in the words.

She drew a deep breath, breasts rising, and nodded. “Yes. And… thank you for all you’ve done.”

No words could have better convinced him he should go. He turned to the door. She followed. He stood back to let her step over the threshold; as she did, a heavy knock fell on the front door.

They both froze, then he reached forward and moved her to the side. “Let me see who it is.”

She made no demur but stood quietly where he’d set her while he crossed the hall and opened the door.

One of his footmen looked up at him. The man smiled in relief. “My lord.” He bowed and offered a letter. “This came from the Bastion Club with instructions it be delivered to your hand as soon as possible.”

Tony took the missive. “Thank you, Cox.” A quick glance at the seal informed him it was from Jack Warnefleet. “Good work. I’ll take care of this. You may go.”

Cox bowed and retreated. His footsteps faded along the street as Tony shut the door.

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Bastion Club Historical
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