Instead, she strained into him, kissing him as madly as he was kissing her, and reached between them to fumble with the fastenings of his trousers. She was the worst kind of strumpet she could think of as she tugged his shirt out of his waistband and reached in to caress his cock. He was already hard and hot, and as she stroked him, the sounds of enjoyment he made scattered whatever resistance to sin she might have had left.
“I adore it when you touch me like this,” he panted, moving against her hand. “You aren’t shy about anything.”
“I want you inside of me,” she gasped in return, shocked at her own boldness. But the desperation to be one with him warred with guilt. The two emotions seemed to be in a race to see which could consume her faster. Forget Bart, Phin was going to murder her when he learned the full truth. But at least she could have this one, last night to carry with her when everything fell apart.
It was quick and clumsy, but that hardly mattered. Lovemaking didn’t always have to be romantic, with angels singing and sunbeams bursting. Phin grasped and tugged at her skirts until they were up around her waist. She pushed his trousers down over his backside and opened to him. He drove himself deep inside of her as they both groaned in satisfaction. She was reminded all over again how large he was and how perfect he felt moving inside of her. It wasn’t pretty or sweet, but it was hot and powerful, and far quicker than she expected, her body coiled tight with tension, then released in a powerful orgasm that had her calling out loud enough to wake the neighbors, if any happened to be near. Phin hissed a curse that would have turned the most seasoned sailors pale in shock and jerked hard and fast into her before tensing and coming apart himself. She didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing one of his French letters. The situation was already bad enough that an unplanned pregnancy couldn’t possibly make it worse.
As swiftly as the storm broke, it was over. Phin collapsed above her, and the two of them lay tangled in each other’s arms, panting and stunned. Even before he finished catching his breath, Phin kissed her neck and cheek repeatedly, then found her mouth and kissed her some more.
“Marry me,” he said, his hips still lodged tightly against hers. “We’ll have a Christmas wedding. Or sooner, if you’d like. Everything will be all right, you’ll see. We will—”
He stopped when Lenore wriggled away from him, pushing him back as gently as she could. Her hands felt like lead weights as she struggled to right her clothing and put herself back together. She couldn't look him in the eye when she said, “I can’t marry you, Phin.”
“But—” He rocked back, tucking himself back into his trousers with distracted movements as Lenore stood and buttoned her blouse. “I don’t understand.” He got to his feet with her, straightening his glassed—which had been knocked askew in their activity—and pushing a hand through his hair. “You just said you loved me.”
“I do love you, Phin,” she said, wincing as she forced herself to meet his eyes. “But I can’t marry you.”
Phin’s confused expression pinched to momentary anger, then settled into frustration. “Is this because of Freddy? Because of your engagement to him? I can assure you, Freddy won’t mind if we marry at all. In fact, I rather think he is a champion of our cause.”
“It’s not because of Freddy,” Lenore said, alarmed at how hoarse her voice had become and how close she was to tears. She’d run and run from what she’d done in Laramie, and now she couldn’t run anymore.
“What is it, then?” Phin blinked, his shoulders dropping. “Is it…is it because I’m destitute?” The vulnerability in his voice and in his eyes was like a dagger in Lenore’s heart. “I know I haven’t presented the full truth of my circumstances to London society, but I was under the impression that it didn’t matter to you.”
“It doesn’t,” she said, her throat squeezing tight. She’d miscalculated badly in letting Phin past her defenses. The picnic and the lovemaking had been a terrible idea—one of far too many terrible ideas she’d had in the last year. “It doesn’t matter at all. I love you more than I can say, more than any man I’ve ever known. But I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?” he demanded with all the sweetness and irritation of a petulant child who had been denied a toy.
“Because I’m—”
She gulped, feeling sick. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t say it. Even though she knew she had to. As much of a rank coward as it made her, the fear of disappointing him, or enraging him, and of seeming like a horrible person in his eyes was too much for her to bear.
She picked up her skirts and turned to run away from him in the most cowardly way possible. It was the lowest moment of her life, and she was certain she would weep bitterly about it for years to come, but she couldn't face the truth, couldn’t face the way she’d let her lies drag on for far too long, and couldn’t face the way Phin would hate her once he knew.
“Lenore!” he called after her. He didn’t follow her immediately, though.
She dashed back down the hill, nearly tripping over roots and tufts of grass a few times as she went. She followed the light from the Mercer house to lead her home. When she was more than halfway there, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Phin chasing after her, the picnic basket on his arm. She picked up her pace, but by the time she reached the yard beside the house, he’d nearly caught her.
“Will you please stop and tell me what’s
