“Holb-b— Dammit, Hol…brook.” Though his jaw had clenched, his eyes, his hands bracketing her waist remained tender. “You. Thea Holbrook, not Hurwell.”
“I— I—” I ought to be poked in the eye for even remotely thinking you mean that. “I think you’ve rescued one too many strays, Lord Tremayne,” she said using his title, hoping it would put some distance between them. “We’ve— They’ve marched away with your wits.”
His fingers tightened and he gave her a little shake, bringing her abdomen into contact with his upper thighs. “Strays?”
“Cyclops, Buttons and John.” His deaf housekeeper and who knew how many others of his staff. “Your new batch of kittens. Me.”
“Ah, but haven’t you noticed how I keep any strays I care enough to bring home?” He skimmed his hands up from her waist to cup her cheeks, to stroke the sides of her face. “Thea. You…are…not…” In between every word, he pressed his lips to hers. “Just…a…passing…fancy…t-to…me.”
After finishing that touching statement, he kissed her deeply, wielding his mouth and tongue like a weapon of sensual torment. His hands drifted to her shoulders, her back. They shaped her spine and derrière, lifted her to her toes and coiled her arms around his neck.
As the flames from his kiss licked deeper, lower, weaving throughout her body and sapping caution, her last coherent thought was: So much for distance. I guess he truly isn’t telling me goodbye.
She grew lighthearted, light-headed at relief and lack of air, his powerful kiss stealing her breath.
Feeling him harden against her stomach, Thea moaned and arched closer.
With a ragged groan, he parted their lips. “Nay. Nnn-not yet.” He swore, eased her to her feet, and then released her to step back. Putting unmistakable distance between them. Physical and otherwise.
Why?
“Sarah. Your friend,” he said in a rigid tone, and Thea couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “How invested is she in P-Penry?”
“Invested?” Disquiet over the feelings she’d just verbalized gave way to concern about Sarah. As she mulled the question, her fingers flew to her lips—damp and sensitive from the pressure of his mouth, it was a moment before she realized Cyclops had rested his muzzle on her slipper again.
Forcing her hand down, she curved it against her belly, hoping to quell the increased fluttering. His kiss—gracious, all of tonight—had knocked her askew. “I don’t grasp your meaning.”
“Sarah,” he said again, jaw flexing. “I may be speaking out of t-turn, so please keep this to yourself for nn-now, but if P-P-Penry d-dissolves their association, will she suffer? B-be crushed? Or will she suffice?”
He gave consideration to a paid mistress? One that wasn’t his own?
You, he’d said. Thea Holbrook, not Hurwell.
Numbness gripped Thea, disbelief still whirling about her brain. Sarah! He’s asking about your friend. Answer him. “Um. Sarah. She’ll be disappointed, of that I have no doubt. But crushed?” Her fist dug harder into her middle as she recalled what Sarah had said in the carriage: He’s paying for your services. It’s naught but a business transaction.
Her fist relaxed and she gave a quick shake of her head. “Nay. Sarah will manage. Though I know you wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t cause. You’ll tell me, then, if you find Lord Penry means to end things? So I can prepare her?”
His sharp nod was decisive.
“Sarah knows she’s naught but a paid whore, that we both—”
“Thea!” The snarl rumbled the floor beneath her feet.
“She told me ’twas so!” Thea defended, thinking how she needed the reminder, reality having set in after learning her friend’s comfortable situation was likely coming to an end.
This was a temporary life she led; no doubt, she’d mistaken his words earlier.
“Thea. Wo…man!” The floor shook again as he drew out the syllables.
“You look furious.”
“As well I should. I nn-never want to hear such a d-d-derogatory term cross your lips!” He advanced until he was inches from her face. “N-n-not ab-bout yourself or those you consider friends. D-do you hear me?”
Likely the whole neighborhood heard him.
Fully chastised by the vehemence he didn’t attempt to suppress, she nodded. “Quite. A whore nevermore,” she quipped, hoping for a smile.
She was rewarded with a twitch of his lips and decided that would serve.
“But now I have more to say.” He breathed deeply. Then deeper still, and she had the distinct impression he was preparing himself for battle. “Say t-to you.” His words had grown raspier, the planes of his face more chiseled. “May I cont-t-tinue?”
Knowing she’d best not interrupt but let him share what he needed with as few words as possible, she nodded. “Please.”
“Yester-d-day at the committee meeting, I spoke in front of p-peers. Spoke, to a group of men doing nothing b-but sitting and listening—or staring at the wall. I’m not sure they wanted to b-be there any more than I. But d-don’t you see, I’d always thought that was my greatest fear.”
He paused and she realized he’d just confessed something profound. “Now you know it isn’t? That you fear something more?”
Eyes stark but impossibly full of emotion, he said clearly, “’T-tis the thought of losing the chance t-to love you that b-br-brings me to my knees.”
That was rather telling. Or was it? Was she only hearing what she wanted to?
You. Thea Holbrook, not Hurwell.
She didn’t just feel dizzy and off-balance. Nay, she felt as though she inhabited the body—the life—of a stranger. Magical things didn’t happen to her. Not since she was a child and Mama wove stories about fairy princesses and far-off castles. Castles with moats and princes and—
“Thea? D-don’t swoon on me now.”
He shook her upper arms and her feet landed with a thump, reality coming up hard in the form of the floor. In the form of one rapidly cooling foot thanks to the slavering attentions of Cyclops.
She was mistaken. ’Tis all.
He wasn’t asking her to marry him. Wasn’t—
“Oh, but I am, sweet Thea.”
He was? And she’d said that out loud?
“What of your family?” It came out nearly screeched and she swallowed, tempered her tone. “Lord Wylde? Lord Penry and—”
She thought he muttered something less than
