When they reached her bedroom, Vivien turned and rested her back on the door.
“Are you coming in?” She studied him, unable to read the expression in his hooded eyes. So much about him confused her, but what she wanted from him rang in her heart with the clarion call of church bells.
He braced a hand on the door frame, hemming her in. “Do you want me to?”
Before she could answer, he feathered a kiss along her jaw. She groaned and tipped her head back, thunking it on the hard oak.
“Vivien, don’t hurt yourself,” he said with amused exasperation.
She fumbled behind her for the doorknob. “You’ll just have to kiss it all better.”
It took a few seconds for her to twist the knob because his mouth was back on her again, kissing the sensitive underside of her chin. But she finally managed to get it open and they stumbled in. Giggling, Vivien grasped the lapels of his coat to keep from falling even as his arms whipped around her to hold her up. She went up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his hard, beautiful mouth. Even as she reached for more, he wrapped his big hands around her shoulders and gently pushed a few inches between them.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a husky rumble. His gaze bored into her. “You know something of what I am and who I am, but only a little. I cannot tell you what will happen after we leave this place. All I can do is—”
She pressed her gloved fingers to his lips. “If you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you, then that is enough.” It would never be enough, but if that was all she could have then she would take it and gladly suffer the pain that came later.
His eyes burned with a raw, sexual heat and something she prayed was more. Her body answered, desire beating in a heavy pulse in the secret places of her body.
“Christ, I could die from wanting you,” he rasped as his fingers played with the old-fashioned ruffle on her bodice.
She smiled and drifted out of his reach. As she moved, she drew the gloves from her arms, pulling them off in a slow, deliberate slide. She knew he found her body attractive—even beautiful. Their night at the inn had been a gift of passion, freeing her from inhibitions and calling forth a sensuality she hadn’t known existed within her.
Aden stood apart from her, legs braced in a wide, masculine stance, his hands clenched against his thighs. He seemed rooted to the floor, every muscle held rigid with exacting discipline. But his eyes tracked her with a predator’s gleam.
Lazily, she undressed, easing buttons through loops, drawing out pins, untying tapes. Her gown whispered to the floor and then she kicked off her shoes. Next, she sat on a small padded bench and slowly lifted the hem of her chemise. With trembling fingers, she untied her garters and pushed her stockings to the floor.
When she looked up to meet Aden’s gaze, the breath snagged in her throat. He hadn’t moved but he looked ready to pounce. A nervous shiver snaked up her spine even as her body softened and grew damp, preparing for his invasion.
With a hesitant smile, she stood and turned her back to him. As she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble free, she glanced over her shoulder. “I need help with my stays,” she said, her voice a soft tremble.
He moved swiftly. His fingers undid her laces and he eased her stays over her hips and down her legs. As she stepped out of them, he let his hands glide up under her chemise, stroking his way to her bottom. He let out a soft growl as he shaped her. “You have a perfect arse, Vivien. Do you know that?”
She giggled, thinking it the silliest and yet somehow the most profound compliment she’d ever heard. But the giggling stopped when a big hand flat on the small of her back pushed her forward, forcing her to grab one of the mahogany posts on the old-fashioned canopied bed.
Clutching it tightly, she sucked in excited breaths as his hands roamed her body. He stroked her bottom, the backs of her thighs, and between her legs, teasing his fingers through the fluff of hair. His hands held her captive with pleasure, drawing moisture and heat from her body until she was slick and desperate for more.
Then he leaned in, brushing the hair from the back of her neck and planting soft kisses down her spine. She wanted to weep, overcome by the beauty of his touch. Aden’s hands could kill—she’d seen the evidence of that—but with her, those hands had given only sheltering strength. Now they touched her with a tenderness that held a different kind of power, one that bound her to him forever.
When his fingers slipped between the folds of her inner lips, she gasped and clutched at the post, going up on her toes. Carefully, he parted her, slipping inside. Vivien moaned and pushed back, craving a deeper contact.
“Not so fast, love,” he crooned, withdrawing from her.
She whimpered an incoherent protest. Gently, he turned her. His dark gaze burned, sultry and heavy-lidded, but a smile curved his lips.
Vivien scowled at him, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. “Don’t tease me, you brute.”
His gaze drifted to her chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I would dream of getting you out of the rest of your clothes.”
A moment later and her chemise drifted to the floor. His hands returned to her body, stroking and playing even as she started pulling at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against hers. She fought him until he finally capitulated with a hoarse laugh, practically tearing his clothes off while she climbed onto the bed, shaking with an unholy combination of lust and love.
When he joined her, they sank into the deep tester mattress, their bodies cleaving, their mouths a breath apart for a timeless moment, fraught and aching with emotion.
Then he began. He made love to every inch of her, tasting her, drinking her in, his mouth drawing one exquisite sensation after another. When he moved between her thighs, his fingers gently opening her for that most intimate of kisses, she felt his smile press against the inside of her thigh. He stilled, leaving her suspended and one step away from falling into a well of pleasure.
“What is it?” she managed, gasping with frustration.
When he didn’t answer, she forced herself up on her elbows. He lay sprawled between her legs, his broad shoulders pushing her wide. Seeing him there, so naked and powerful, his fingers gently combing through her blond fluff, was insanely erotic. With that part of her brain that was still able to think—a very tiny part—Vivien judged it a wonder that she didn’t swoon on the spot.
With a lascivious smile curling his lips, he patted her nest of curls. “I like to look at you, all golden and creamy white.” Then his fingers carefully parted her. “And this part, too. So pink and wet, so pretty.”
Then he leaned in and sucked, and Vivien collapsed with a moan on the pillows. He took her to paradise—twice—before crawling up her body. His face had taken on a hard cast, his gaze scorching her. Cradling her head under his arm, he scissored her legs wide with his powerful thighs. Then, with a smooth thrust, he entered her. Sparks of sensation shot up her spine and she arched to pull him more deeply into her.
His eyelids closed and intense pleasure swept over his face. Then he opened his eyes, trapping her in the fathomless depths of his entrancing dark gaze.
And he moved, riding her. Slowly at first, drawing her into a sleepy haze of passion. But it wasn’t enough. She dug her nails into his shoulders, into his hips and buttocks, silently egging him on. As he rocked into her, grinding pelvis to pelvis, he lavished kisses on her cheeks, her mouth, her neck, her breasts—everywhere he could reach. His mouth devoured and yet cherished with a tenderness that filled up all the empty spaces, making her forget she’d ever been alone.
Finally, when they were both shaking, their bodies straining toward each other and toward release, he cupped her bottom, tilting her against him. Just an inch, just a fraction, so tiny a movement to bring so much pleasure exploding across her senses.
As she fell, her body dazzled by sensation, her mind and her heart seemed to leap across a shimmering void. Even in her daze, Vivien recognized it for what it was.
It was more than a leap of love. It was a leap of faith.
Chapter Thirty-One
Aden told himself to move even though every muscle in his body demanded he stay right where he was, on top of Vivien’s sweetly curved body, his still twitching cock cradled against her belly. He was wrapped around her, crushing her into the mattress, but he felt as if he was the one who was surrounded. Her scent, her voice, and her touch had invaded him, wending through him with invisible satin ribbons to wrap themselves around his heart.
Christ.
He was in a great deal of trouble and without a clue how to extract himself.
Sighing, he rolled over on his back, taking her with him. She giggled at the change in position then draped herself across his chest, snuggling up like a fluffy kitten. She even flexed her fingers in his chest hair and purred, drawing her smooth leg up to rest alongside his hip. That had the unfortunate effect of pressing her damp nest of pretty blond curls into his cock. Yes, it was quite flaccid at the moment, but if Vivien stayed in that position much longer it wouldn’t remain that way. If he had any brains left in his head—and he thought they might have exploded during his earth-shattering climax—he’d ease out from under her, cover her up with the bedclothes, and get the hell out of the house. As much as he wanted to be with her—for the rest of his life, he was beginning to suspect—that would be a huge mistake.
For him, of course, and most certainly for her.
He steeled himself to do just that when she pressed her lips to the center of his chest. That simple kiss jolted him, and he felt it take hold of his heart in a way no words could explain. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around her. His mind might know it was time to let her go, but his body had other ideas.
When she snuffled against him again, he couldn’t hold back a smile. “What is that in aid of, Vivien?”
She rested her chin on his chest, gazing up at him. Her eyes shone with uncomplicated emotion, so clear, so loving, and so impossible.
“I like the way you smell,” she said. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Given my level of exertion over the last hour or so, I’d say it means you’re demented.” He started to slip out from under her. “In fact, if you’ll let me up, I’ll have a wash.” As excuses went it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“Don’t go. Please,” she whispered, tightening her grip.
He bit back another sigh and subsided. They rested, skin to skin, beating heart to beating heart. All the while, he berated himself for being an idiot, and all the while his hands continued to stroke and play—combing his fingers through her thick, golden locks, watching them catch the reflected glow of the candles, and then drawing his hands over her burnished satin body. Soon enough it would end between them. For now, he would stamp the memory of her on his heart, a talisman during the hard, empty times his future surely held.
Just when he thought she’d fallen asleep, she stirred and looked up at him again.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, her gaze solemn.
“For what?”
She crossed her hands on his chest, using it as a platform for her chin.
“For taking care of me and protecting me. And for this.” A smile lifted the edges of her lush mouth. “Especially for this. It’s quite the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Exactly what do you mean by
this,
” he said cautiously.
As soon as the words blundered their way out of his mouth, he knew they were a mistake.
Pushing against his chest, Vivien slowly sat up. Her hair fell in golden streamers over her pretty, pink-tipped breasts, and it took a masterful effort not to throw all common sense to the four winds and pull her back under him, sating himself in her beauty.
She considered him for several seconds, then seemed to reach a decision. “Aden, surely you realize how I feel about you.”
God, he was not ready for this conversation. He would never be ready. “I’m sure you think you’re fond of me, which isn’t surprising under the circumstances.”
She folded her arms under her chest in a classic defensive gesture. Unfortunately, her nakedness spoiled the intended effect since it plumped up her breasts into tempting mounds.
“And how would you define those circumstances?” she asked in a clipped voice.
“Vivien, I’ve saved your life more than once, and it’s natural you should feel grateful. But gratitude can sometimes be confused with other emotions.”
“I’m not a dimwit or a schoolgirl, Aden. I’m perfectly capable of identifying what I feel and what I don’t feel. And of
course
I’m grateful to you. I’m grateful to Sir Dominic, too, but I’m not in love with him.”
Such a simple word, yet it slammed through him with the force of a pistol shot. Though he’d known it was coming, nothing could have prepared him for its devastating effect.
He bit back the overwhelming temptation to respond in kind. “I never said you were a dimwit, sweetheart. But, in truth, we barely know each other. We’ve been thrown together in highly unusual circumstances—”
“Not unusual for you,” she interrupted calmly.
“—unusual circumstances that have a tendency to heighten and confuse the emotions,” he carried on doggedly. “I’ve seen it happen before, and rarely does the situation end well.”
She pulled her legs up, bringing the linen sheet with her and covering her breasts. He’d miss them, but at least they wouldn’t be distracting him. But with her big eyes, tumbled hair, and kiss-swollen lips, she looked like a woman who’d been well and properly shagged. A woman who’d enjoyed every moment of it, too, and was eager for more.
Instantly, Aden’s cock twitched to life, more than ready to do her bidding. So much for not being distracted.
“Since you seem to know all about it,” she said, “perhaps you’d be willing to answer one simple question.”
He sensed a trap but couldn’t see how he could avoid it. “What question?”
“How do you feel about me?”
Aden clamped down hard, refusing to allow any sign of inner turmoil to show on his face. “That’s not an easy question to answer.”
Vivien’s chin went up in a defiant tilt. “I think it’s a very easy question to answer. Do you love me, or are you merely fond of me?”
He sighed. “It is a great deal more complicated than a simple declaration of emotion, and you know it.”
One side of her luscious mouth pulled down in a cynical slant but her eyes held a wounded, hollow look. “I see. You were simply taking advantage of a convenient opportunity to alleviate the boredom of this wretched situation. How foolish of me to assume otherwise, and how embarrassing for you that I misunderstood.” She threw back the covers and began to slide out of bed. “I won’t trouble you with my silly, overwrought emotions a moment longer.”
Aden snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her back into bed. She fought him, flailing her arms and legs in an effort to escape but he held her hard against him.
“You must be a dimwit if you think I would take advantage of you,” he snapped. “I assure you there is nothing convenient about this situation or about falling in love with you.”
She jerked once and then fell still, staring over her shoulder at him with a stunned gaze. Aden wanted to bite his tongue out. If he needed any proof that he had to get away from her, he’d just provided it. He
had
fallen in love with her, God help him. And it made him more vulnerable to making mistakes than he’d ever even imagined.
“You love me?” she asked in a tight voice as she twisted partway around in his embrace.
He sighed, feeling all the weariness of the last few months. Nay, years. “Of course I love you. How could I not? You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met, despite your unfailing ability to get yourself into ridiculous situations.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “I don’t do it on purpose, you know. Things just seem to happen to me.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed that trouble finds you on a fairly regular basis.”
When she started to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re also intelligent, loyal, and generous to a fault, and it doesn’t hurt that I could make love to you three times a day for the rest of my natural life and still not have enough of you.”
She wriggled with pleasure, bringing her softly curved backside against his groin with predictably distracting results.
“You think I’m pretty,” she said shyly.
He feathered kisses along the tender nape of her neck, and she arched against him. “Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it,” he murmured.
She twisted fully around in his arms to meet his gaze. “Then why do you keep pulling away from me? If we love each other, then what is the problem?”
He frowned down at her. Where to begin? “Vivien, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I wasn’t good enough for you. You can’t begin to conceive of the life I’ve led . . . the things I’ve done, and the things I still must do.”
“You’re talking about your work?”
“Yes.”
She rested her hands on his chest, staring earnestly up at him. “But surely you’ve done enough. You’ve been in the army for—”
When he shook his head in disagreement, she scoffed with impatience. “Very well. You’ve been a spy for almost ten years, is that not right?”
He nodded cautiously.
“Then I would say you’ve earned the right to retire from what must surely be a most dangerous profession. It’s not as if you don’t have other alternatives. After all, you’re a St. George. Yes, I understand that you’re a younger son, but—”
“I am not a St. George,” he growled. “I have never truly been one of them, nor will I ever be.”
She peered at him with confusion. “You’re the son of Lord and Lady Thornbury. How can you not be a St. George?”
He released her as his gut twisted with bitterness. Sliding out of the bed, he snatched up his breeches and yanked them on. “Lord Thornbury was not my father.”
Simply admitting it made bile rise in his throat. He fumbled with the fall of his breeches, avoiding her gaze until he’d buttoned himself. When he finally looked up, he couldn’t read her expression.
“That is certainly unexpected,” she said quietly. “But hardly unheard of.” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Did your fa—did Lord Thornbury know?”
“Yes.” Aden couldn’t bring himself to say anything more than that.
She nodded. “And yet he still acknowledged you as his son. That was kind of him.”
A harsh laugh fought its way from his throat. “Hardly. He didn’t have a choice.”
Vivien frowned and brushed an errant lock of hair away from her forehead. She looked so beautiful, sitting amongst the rumpled bed linens. Beautiful and innocent, and not for him.
“What do you mean?”
Aden grimaced. “He had no choice because he had no desire to run afoul of my natural father. Lord Thornbury was anything but kind, I assure you. But he did not wish to embroil himself in the kind of scandal that would have resulted if he rejected me or my mother.”
Vivien narrowed her gaze. “Aden, exactly who
is
your father?”
“The Prince Regent.”
At the stunned expression on her face, his body went cold. There were many royal by-blows littering the land—he knew several—some of them of high rank. But those royal bastards hadn’t had the shame of their parentage thrown into their faces on a regular basis, or seen their mothers treated with contempt by their husbands. But to his stepfather, Aden was a constant reminder of betrayal, and the old bastard had never let him forget it.
He retrieved his shirt off the floor, pulling it over his head while keeping his back to her. “And that, my dear, is why any sort of arrangement between us is impossible.”
The bedclothes rustled and he heard Vivien softly pad across the floor. Her slender arms went around his waist as she rested her cheek between his shoulder blades.
“I am truly sorry for the pain your parents have caused,” she said. “But their shame is not your shame.”
He wanted to pull away from her but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Her warmth, pressed all along his back, felt like heaven.
“I think you’ll find that opinion to be in the minority,” he said. “In my case, most of society would agree with my stepfather.”
She moved around to stand in front of him, clothed in nothing but a bedsheet and looking impossibly beautiful. “But your mother is one of the most admired women in the
ton
. I’m not sure who knows the truth about your parentage—”
“Just about everyone,” he interjected in a cynical tone.
“I’ve never heard even the
slightest
rumor, and I’ve been out and about in society for over seven years.”
Now that she mentioned it, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had referred to his scandalous origins. And it
was
true that his mother enjoyed a very high standing in society, so perhaps the scandal had faded to a point where it no longer truly mattered. The shame and resentment had colored his life for so long—Aden couldn’t even remember when he’d first learned who his father was—that perhaps his perception
was
distorted. Still . . .
“Aden,” Vivien said, poking him in the chest, “you’ve essentially been away from London for ten years. Whatever scandal was attached to your birth has faded to the point of inconsequence. Besides, you’re hardly the only illegitimate child of a prince. The Duke of Clarence has ten of them, and no one seems to give a fig about that.”
Aden scratched the stubble on his chin. “That’s all very true, but surely you can’t expect me to believe it wouldn’t be a concern to you.”
She cast him such a look of disdain that he was tempted to shuffle his feet.
“Do you really think I’m that shallow?” she asked. “What have I ever done to give you that sort of idea?”
Brooding over her words, he wandered over to sit on the bed. Vivien gathered the trailing hem of her sheet and followed him.