Page 18

The first touch of his lips against hers sent a jolt through his entire body, like lightning striking earth.

Her lips, cold from the night air, were impossibly soft, with the faint sweetness of rose salve that had long since faded but left its ghostly essence.

They warmed swiftly beneath his own, their texture changing from cool silk to heated velvet.

The subtle, barely perceptible tremor that ran through her sent his pulse racing even faster.

He tried to maintain control, to keep the kiss chaste, but his resolve melted away at the soft, surrendering sigh that escaped her lips and vibrated against his mouth.

When her tongue tentatively brushed his lower lip – a sweet, inexperienced exploration that nonetheless conveyed unmistakable desire – he nearly lost himself completely.

The taste of her was warm, complex, utterly addictive, leaving him dizzy with need.

He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth more firmly over hers, and when she pressed herself against him with clear intent, every barrier he'd so carefully constructed threatened to collapse entirely.

When they eventually separated, both breathing as though they'd run for miles, the lingering sweetness of her mouth stayed with him, making him ache to reclaim it.

"I should apologise," he began, his voice hoarse.

"Don't you dare." Her fingers tightened in the fabric of the lapels of his coat. "Unless…do you regret it?"

"The only thing I regret," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple, "is that I waited so unbearably long to do that."

Her sigh, seemingly of relief, fanned across his damp lips, causing them to tingle pleasantly in the cool night air. "Why now, then? After all this time..."

He chuckled, partly to soothe his nerves. “Other than being trapped in a tower together, you mean?”

“I assume that is not the only reason.”

"I wasn't worthy of you before," he whispered against her skin, his voice a low timbre.

"Now I feel I may earn your esteem… in time.” Ira was silent for a long moment before continuing, “I've been the anonymous lord pushing your Modern Farming Bill through Parliament.

Using your research as the foundation. It seemed a better apology than flowers. "

Beatrice gasped. "My systems on crop rotation? The livestock breeding programmes?"

"All of it," he declared. "They're brilliant, Beatrice. I wanted you to be recognised before I presumed to?—"

She silenced him with a kiss that bore little resemblance to their earlier tentative explorations.

This time she took control, capturing his lower lip between her teeth with deliberate pressure that sent electricity racing down his spine.

A soft moan escaped him as her hands, no longer hesitant, moved to the knots of his cravat, patiently working them free.

“I want to see you,” she whispered against his mouth.

The cool air kissed his exposed neck as she slipped the fabric off and moved to the buttons of his coat.

Emboldened by her directness, Ira's hands slid down the curve of her back to cup her bottom, drawing her firmly against him.

Her eyes widened as his hard length dug into her delicate curves, but rather than retreating, she pressed closer, the scholar in her evidently eager for this particular lesson.

"We are certainly courting scandal," he rasped, his hands kneading her backside as his member swelled against her. "Once discovered here together..."

"Society will demand we marry," she whispered as she worked on his shirt buttons. She searched his face. "Is that what you want?"

The question pierced through his desire to the deeper emotion beneath. Years of regret, of measuring every woman against her memory, of carrying her articles through war—all led to this single, perfect moment of clarity.

"I've wanted it since I witnessed you defend that piglet's intellectual potential," he said, his voice raw with longing. "My heart recognised what my pride couldn't accept."

His words made her bold. Beatrice parted the fabric from his chest, her eyes and fingers tracing the defined muscles with unabashed appreciation.

"And you, Beatrice? Is this the experiment you wish to pursue? A lifetime with a reformed rake who once made you cry?"

The question hung between them. He'd faced cannon fire with less trepidation than he felt awaiting her answer.

A smile bloomed slowly across her face – one of pure, unrestrained joy.

"I've been yours for as long as I can remember," she confessed against his skin, her voice tender.

"My hypothesis has always been that beneath your insufferable arrogance lies a man of extraordinary worth.

I'd very much like to spend a lifetime proving myself correct. "

Relief and desire flooded him in equal measure.

He kissed her again, rolling her onto her back and pouring every desire into the press of his hips against hers as his mouth consumed her.

The silky texture of her hair wound around his fingers as he angled her head, her small gasps of pleasure emboldening him.

This wasn't mere physical attraction – it was recognition, homecoming, the culmination of a journey that had begun when they were children exploring the world together.

"We'll scandalise both our families," he murmured as his mouth trailed down the elegant column of her throat, not entirely displeased by the notion.

"Mmm," she agreed, her fingers threading through his hair. "My father will blame your family's notorious lack of propriety."

"While mine will claim your bluestocking tendencies corrupted me," he mumbled against her collarbone, feeling her laughter vibrate against his lips.

Her hands found their way to his bare back, exploring the ridged scars that mapped his military service. Her touch healed something deep within him that he hadn't realised was broken.

"I cherish your mind, Beatrice Winters," he whispered as he slowly, reverently, began to loosen the buttons of her bodice. "But I find myself equally enamoured with every other part of you."

As the fabric parted beneath his hands, he was overwhelmed by the sight of her in the moonlight: the luscious swell of her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath, the creamy skin that seemed to glow with an inner light. He swallowed hard, momentarily stunned by her beauty.

With exquisite tenderness, he traced the delicate curves with a finger, watching in wonder as her skin pebbled beneath his touch, responsive to the lightest caress. Each shiver, each small sound of pleasure she made was a gift more precious than any he'd ever received.

"Though I feel obligated to warn you, this particular experiment may yield life-altering results," he managed, his voice in awe.

"The most significant experiments always do." She arched against him as his thumb brushed against the hardened peaks of her breasts and his lips found the crevice between the slopes of her mounds, tasting the delicate skin there.

Ira recognised the greatest gift he'd ever been given. This brilliant, passionate woman had chosen him despite his flaws, despite his past cruelty. As he worshipped her body, he silently vowed to spend the rest of his life proving worthy of that choice.

And for perhaps the first time in her life, the eternally curious Miss Winters surrendered to sensation without question, content to leave her inquiries unanswered until dawn.

The End… for now.