Curiosity led her to reach down between their bodies and touch the steel rod encased in skin as soft as silk. Hmmm. Definitely addictive.
“You’re determined to kill me, love.” His voice sounded deeper, a little raspier than usual. The endearment fell easily from his lips, yet she had seen a flicker of doubt in his eyes when she first mentioned the word love.
“I like touching you. I wish we had no reason to leave this room today.” She wished they could spend forever like this.
“While our thoughts are aligned, we cannot focus on our future until we’ve dealt with Wincote and Layton.” He brushed hair from her face, kissed her forehead. “No regrets?”
“About last night?”
“Last night? It was past three when we climbed into bed.”
“No regrets.” She smiled. “Though if I could, I would make you believe that I love you.” She wondered why he had not made a declaration when every aspect of his countenance said he cared for her, too. “Does your lack of faith stem from the problems of the past, from your childhood?”
Had he felt just as unloved as she?
He remained quiet for a time. “I was five when my mother patted me on the head, told me she loved me and sent me to live with a woman who had a heart of stone. I saw her twice after that. Once on my eighteenth birthday. Once the year after, when she summoned me to her bedside and drew her last breath.”
“I’m sorry.” She knew what it was like for a parent’s words to contradict their actions. “Some people don’t know how to love.”
“My mother provided for me financially and felt that was enough.” The coldness in his voice masked a wealth of pain. “More than ample, considering the nature of my birth.”
“People often use money to absolve their sins.” She shuffled up to place her head on the pillow, to look at him directly. “Perhaps they don’t know any better.” She cupped his cheek, her heart wrenching when she noted the tortured look in his eyes. “Based on the fact you’ve not made enquiries regarding your brother’s copy of Vathek, am I to understand that your relationship with your father is equally strained?”
“Lord Ranfield mourns the death of his son with the same fervency he does my birth. I have no desire to subject myself to his constant abuse.”
The need to love him sent the blood racing through her veins. “Then you need not see or speak to him again.” She reached up and kissed him openmouthed. “Knowing what I do of you, I presume you refused any suggestion of an allowance.”
He drew in a deep breath.
“Forgive me, Lawrence. I did not mean to pry.”
He captured her hand and linked their fingers. “My mo
ther refused Lord Ranfield’s assistance. She was a wealthy woman in her own right. Being her only child, I inherited a substantial sum from my mother and grandmother upon their deaths.” He paused, then gave a contemptuous snort. “Had I been a stronger man, I might have given it all to the orphanage. But I was young, happy to accept reparation for the pain caused.”
Silence descended.
“Our pasts share some similarities.” She, too, was shown little affection. “My father made it his life’s mission to draw attention to my failings. And yet, having no need to worry about entailments, he left me everything in his will.”
“Any man who fails to notice your attributes is a blind fool.” He bent his head and kissed her, a slow melding of mouths that tightened the coil within.
Things may have progressed beyond an intimate caress had they not heard the light rap on the door, and the faint swish as someone pushed a note through the gap at the bottom.
Lawrence climbed out of bed, and she watched with fascination as he padded across the room. He retrieved the note and read it silently.
“Cavanagh is returning to Jermyn Street. He is tired of playing the Roman emperor and desires clothes that protect his nether regions.” Lawrence chuckled. He seemed a little less burdened than he had the previous night. “I’m to call on him should I decide to visit Wincote.”
The mere mention of that name brought the alarming events of the previous night rushing to the fore. “I wish we could go back to that night in the graveyard and forget all about the Brethren.”
Fear for his welfare caused a wave of apprehension.
“But then we would have parted, never spent such an inordinate amount of time together.” He did not return to bed but threw on his breeches and shirt and moved to the window to part the curtains.
“We have spent more time together than most courting couples do in a year.” To be apart from him now would be unbearable.
“Courting couples seek to marry. As a spinster,” he began in a teasing tone, “you made it clear marriage was not part of your agenda.” He glanced at the rumpled sheets on the bed. “Last night, we moved beyond the boundaries of most courting couples. The question now is whether your views have changed.”
For people who had no problem with honesty, the thought of marriage left them both skirting around the truth. “That all depends on what you meant when you said you’d have me in every way a man might have a woman.”