His passionate little dove had fallen into a heavy slumber.
Her perfectly formed body was splayed in utter abandon, and her small, beautiful breasts rose and fell with her even breath.
A sharp point of discomfort rose in his chest. He rubbed his fist over the spot to dispel the sensation.
Using the damp cloth, he wiped his seed from her belly and the subtle smear of her virgin blood from her inner thighs. Seeing the rise of gooseflesh on her skin, he gently maneuvered her beneath the bedding, tucking it up under her chin so she wouldn’t catch a chill. Then he dressed quickly, keeping one eye on the lady in her bed. He suspected she’d have a word or two for him if she awoke to find him sneaking away, but he couldn’t believe for one second she’d want him to stay.
As he reached for the door, he felt an intense compulsion to return to the bed and press his mouth to hers.
Don’t be an arse. Let the woman sleep.
Forcing himself to continue to his own room, he envisioned her small female form curled up against him in the lush cloud of blankets and pillows. Her head on his shoulder, her hand curled around his ribs, and one of her slim legs thrown across his hips.
Shite. He didn’t belong in her bed. It was good he’d left.
Once in his room, he undressed to his breeches then sat on the floor with his back resting against the bedpost. With a charcoal in hand and fresh sheets of paper stacked on the wooden board resting atop his knees, he closed his eyes and pictured flashing eyes, an imperious scowl softening with pleasure, and a lush bottom lip caught between two rows of perfect teeth.
The charcoal began to fly over the paper with sensual ease.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Katherine awoke slowly. She first acknowledged the warmth and comfort of her bed, then the subtle soreness of her body, then the soul-deep contentment that welled in her heart.
Mason.
Before even fully conscious, she reached for him.
And found her bed empty.
She sat up and looked around her bedroom, which was just barely lightening with the dawn. She already knew he wasn’t there, but the loneliness that claimed her at having the fact confirmed was a surprise. Drawing her knees toward her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and tried to grasp hold of the last thing she remembered.
Pleasure.
Wonder.
Connection.
She fell back again against the pillows and covered her heated face with her hands.
How could she have fallen asleep immediately after such an amazing experience? If she hadn’t, would Hale have stayed? Would she have wanted him to?
Her belly swirled with longing. She absolutely would have.
For a man who was undeniably brash and coarse and frustratingly domineering, his sensual command of her body and her pleasure had been full of tenderness and generosity.
There was so much more to the man than he allowed most people to see.
Last night, she’d touched the part of him that he kept concealed behind a harsh, smirking exterior. She wanted more. She wanted to know him. His past, his fears, his desires and dreams. She wanted to be someone he trusted with all of himself. She wanted to understand what had formed him into the man he was.
And most of all...she wanted to be a woman he stayed with through the night.
With a sharp pang through her chest, she realized that was the main source of her distress. After the shuddering kisses, the tantalizing caresses, the soul-altering pleasure, he’d simply dressed and walked away.
It shouldn’t matter.
When she’d decided to take him into her bed, she’d had no expectations beyond the need to express the desire roaring through her. No illusions of forever. It had been for the pure carnal experience, an inevitable culmination of the attraction that had been building between them.
But there had been moments she’d looked into his eyes and had felt so much more. A connection. A completion. A sense of rightness and wonder. Had it been a trick of the candlelight or a lustful illusion that had her thinking she’d glimpsed the same emotion in his eyes?
And why did the thought that she’d fooled herself into believing something magical had occurred between them last night make her feel so sad with loss?
TILTING HER HEAD, KATHERINE frowned at her reflection in the mirror above her vanity. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for or why she felt like she wasn’t finding it, but something in her expression gave her a brusque twinge of dissatisfaction.
She had dressed for Lord Shelbourne’s soiree in a gown of pale lavender with soft grey lace trimming the sleeves, bodice, and hem. Her hair had been coiled and twisted and curled and pinned atop her head. Three strands of pearls clasped together with a sparkling amethyst broach encircled her neck, and small pearls dangled from her ears.
Her appearance wasn’t the height of London fashion, but it would have to do.
She did not relish the idea of going out tonight, but she’d accepted Lord Shelbourne’s invitation to the small soirée days ago when she’d felt a need to establish some social ties for Frederick’s sake.
She just wished it didn’t have to be tonight, when she was still reeling from the experience with Hale. Her mind was cluttered with serious thoughts and words still unspoken, feelings that seemed bigger than she’d expected, and such a loss of control it made her heart race to think of it.
She wasn’t altogether surprised when she’d received his note cancelling their lesson scheduled for that day, though she was certainly annoyed he hadn’t bothered to provide a reason. She’d gone to her study instead to read through her father’s journals yet another time. The talk
