“A moment of freedom, Katherine, or however many you will give me.”
“Miss Kate?”
Katherine spun about to face Hetty, certain she was entirely pink. “Take this up to my room please, and would you fetch my spencer and bonnet, and my gloves.”
“No,” John interrupted.
Katherine turned.
“Hetty, is it? Your mistress needs none of that, it is cooler today, she need not fear the sun.”
“I have a fair complexion, Your Grace.” His boorishness annoyed her.
“Then a parasol will suffice.” His pale eyes glowed, daring her to challenge him.
She did not, and once the maid had gone, he whispered, “I want to touch your skin.”
Was this the price of her bonnet?
Her heartbeat thundered, as she realised she wished to be touched. She had always known she was base and sinful and weak, John was only proving what she knew, and if any man were to touch her, then let it be John.
Hetty was back in a moment, bearing the promised parasol, and Katherine accepted it with a brief thank you, realising her hands shook when she did so.
John smiled when she turned. His eyes said he needed her.
Her bare arm trembled when he took it.
He opened the French door and together they stepped outside. His grip was gentle. She felt cared for.
There was a little wilderness of wild flowers to the right of the garden, and he led her there as she opened her parasol and rested it on her shoulder. The chill summer breeze caught at her skirt and wrapped it against John’s leg.
He let go of her arm and instead raised his so she could lay her fingers on it. She felt firm muscle beneath the cloth of his morning coat. There was strength, security and support.
“You say you wish for freedom,” she said quietly, “but I still do not understand what you mean, John.” She was being gauche and provincial again.
“Just your company, Katherine, and perhaps your kisses.” His other hand covered hers as it lay on his arm. “We will be discreet.”
Discreet? Was she agreeing to an assignation then? “You make it sound as though you wish for an affair.”
He stopped and looked down at her, vulnerability and need burning in his eyes again. “An affair of sorts, an intrigue. But I shall not take your innocence. I’ll not hurt you.”
His gaze said, please do not deny me.
A rush of yearning swamped her heart.
He began walking again, looking ahead and not at her.
Oh John. John! She remembered that day long ago when she had watched him in the lake and felt desperate to touch him. If she did this, she could touch him and she could kiss him. If she did it, the pain buried in her soul for years would have ease.
John! She ached for him. How could she say no? She had always known he could never offer her marriage, but he could offer her this and she could take it. It was what she’d longed for. Why say no?
As they neared an ancient oak, John’s arm slipped from beneath her hand and then he caught a hold of her arm again and drew her behind the broad trunk, then pressed her back against it.
Her parasol fell and tumbled across the lawn, blown on the wind, as his lips covered hers, gently at first, but then the kiss became more insistent.
His body was barely an inch from hers.
One of his long-fingered hands braced against her cheek.
John!
She kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his, learning from his.
His other hand pressed against her lower back. While hers gripped his morning coat, clinging to him.
The storm of emotion she could feel in him was bitter need.
His mouth left hers and he began nipping beneath her chin in soft little bites. “I want you Katherine.” His breath was hot. “I can show and teach you things you will enjoy, but I swear I shall not take your virginity. I know you want me, too.”
I do!
His hand cupped her breast through her bodice, kneading it gently. It ached for him.
“Say yes, Katherine,” he whispered urgently.
His lips nipped at her neck and his hand rubbed her breast while his hips pressed against hers.
She wanted him, there, between her legs, she wanted to do the indecent things her mother had done to beget her. He was the only thing she had ever really wanted. Why hold back?
Her breath was shallow, and his hard and rasping.
His hand left her breast and moved to the place where she wanted him to be.
John!
He pressed her through the layers of her gown and petticoats, and her arms rose to his neck as he kissed her lips again, more passionately.
“Katherine,” he said into her mouth, sounding as breathless and desperate as her as his fingers rubbed her intimately between her legs through the layers of clothing.
She was so in need. This is what she had spent so many years craving. It was just the two of them in the world. It was wrong, she knew it was, but it felt so right and she did not care. She was like her mother. She had always been told it. This had been inevitable since her birth. The sins of the parent visited on the child.
Her body pressed against his, arching with its need.
It was so perfect what he did, how could it be wrong?
The feelings inside her whirled in a spiral of heated delight, rising up and overwhelming her, and then they seemed to break on a high tide that swept through her body, leaving her panting and weak-limbed.
His fingers braced against her cheek again as he kissed her more urgently for a moment.
She could no longer kiss him back.
Then he ceased, and when she opened her eyes he was looking into them, beautiful and all John.
He sighed, appearing to look right into her soul, the pale blue in his eyes glittering like melting ice.
Her fingers stroked through his soft, dark hair.
“That is what I can give you, Katherine,” he said quietly, as if that was everything. It was his love she wished for. “Will you meet me in my grandfather’s tower tomorrow at two?”
“Yes,” her answer was caught on the breeze and swept away. Yes.
Thoughts of Katherine hovering in his mind, John strode along the bare flagstone of the servants’ hall, ready to ride out to meet her. The image of her had hung in his mind since yesterday, along with a subconscious feeling of companionship.
The beauty of her submission had been a revelation.
She’d ceased fighting her desire yesterday, giving him her trust, and a hundred times last night he’d vowed to honour it.
He was so hungry for her he’d hardly slept, burning with restless frustration. He itched to have her, but he had made her a promise. He would temper his lust. Yet there were many things a man could do without taking a woman’s virginity and his