She squeezed his hand. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “You are the first man . . . The first man I’ve . . .”
She didn’t know how to say it. She wanted him to know every moment of her life, every triumph and disappointment. Most of all, she wanted him to know that he was the first man she had ever trusted completely, the only man to win her heart.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Right then, in the midst of the most carnal, erotic coupling she could imagine, he kissed her knuckles, as gently and honorably as an ancient knight.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered.
She hadn’t realized she was.
He kissed away her tears, but as he bent over he moved again within her, restoking the turbulent fire at her core. She stroked his calves with her feet, lifting her hips in a feminine squirm, and then he was moving, and she was moving, and something was changing within her, stretching and tightening until she could not possibly bear it, and then—
“Oooooh!” She let out a little cry as the world burst around her, and she grabbed him, clutching his shoulders so hard she lifted from the bed.
“Oh, my God,” he panted. “Oh, my God, oh my—” With one final thrust he cried out, jerking forward and then finally collapsing as he spilled himself within her.
It was done, Anne thought dreamily. It was done, and yet her life was finally beginning.
Later that night, Daniel lay on his side, leaning on his elbow with his head propped in his hand as he idly toyed with the loose strands of Anne’s hair. She was sleeping—or at least he thought she was. If not, she was being remarkably indulgent, letting him stroke through the soft curls, marveling at the way the flickering candlelight reflected on each strand.
He hadn’t realized her hair was so long. When she had it done up, with her pins and combs and whatever else it was women used, it looked like any other hair bun. Well, any other hair bun when worn by a woman so beautiful it made his heart stop.
But down, her hair was glorious. It spilled over her shoulders like a sable blanket, rippling into soft, luxurious waves that came to an end at the tops of her breasts.
He allowed himself a wicked little smile. He liked that her hair didn’t cover her breasts.
“What are you smiling about?” she murmured, her voice thick and lazy with sleep.
“You’re awake,” he said.
She let out a little mewl as she stretched, and he happily watched as the bedsheet slipped from her body. “Oh!” she chirped, yanking it back up.
He covered her hand with his, tugging it down. “I like you that way,” he murmured huskily.
She blushed. It was too dark for him to see the pink on her skin, but her eyes looked down for just a moment, the way they always did when she was embarrassed. And then he smiled again, because he hadn’t even realized he’d known that about her.
He liked knowing things about her.
“You didn’t say what you were smiling about,” she said, gently pulling the sheet back up and tucking it under her arm.
“I was thinking,” he said, “that I rather like it that your hair is not quite long enough to cover your breasts.”
This time he did see her blush, even in the dark.
“You did ask,” he murmured.
They fell into a companionable silence, but soon Daniel saw worry lines begin to form on Anne’s forehead. He wasn’t surprised when she asked, softly, “What happens now?”
He knew what she was asking, but he didn’t want to answer. Snuggled together in his four-poster bed with the canopy pulled closed around them, it was easy to pretend that the rest of the world did not exist. But morning would come soon enough, and with it, all of the dangers and cruelties that had brought her to this point.
“I will pay a call upon Sir George Chervil,” he finally said. “I trust it will not be difficult to determine his address.”
“Where will I go?” she whispered.
“You will stay here,” Daniel said firmly. He could hardly believe she’d think he’d allow her to go anywhere else.
“But what will you tell your family?”
“The truth,” he said. Then, when her eyes widened with shock, he quickly added, “Some of it. There is no need for anyone to know precisely where you slept tonight, but I will have to tell my mother and sister how you came to be here without so much as a change of clothing. Unless you can think of a reasonable story.”
“No,” she agreed.
“Honoria can lend you a wardrobe, and with my mother here as chaperone, it will not be untoward in the least for you to be installed in one of our guest bedrooms.”