Page 23 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

Your touch is fire.

You take me higher

Than heaven’s gate.

This must be fate.

Athene stirred and slowly opened her eyes to realize that Hugo was stroking her hair, smoothing it from the wild tangle it had become in their frenzied matings. He rested on one elbow and subjected her to a tender concentration that made her idiot heart cramp with longing.

A creased sheet covered them both to the waist and the room was warm with the fire roaring in the hearth. He must have left the bed to stoke it. She really had fallen into a deep sleep. It was still dark outside, but something told her that dawn wasn’t far away.

She made a husky sound of appreciation and gave him a drowsy smile. “Good morning.” Her voice was scratchy with tiredness and after her cries of release when he’d set her world alight.

“Good morning.” The deep rumble made her think of a contented lion.

She was in such trouble here. He’d been difficult enough to resist before she discovered his generous, passionate soul. Before she’d discovered the bliss that he could create in her body. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“No need to be.” His smile was as tender as his touch. “We have plenty of time. And I’ve been devilish demanding, when all is said and done.”

He’d lifted her higher than heaven on a golden ladder of ecstasy. Memories of that ineffable joy lent a lazy throb of contentment to her blood.

She cupped his jaw, feeling the rasp of whiskers. “I love that you want me so badly.”

Athene had a horrible feeling that she loved more than that. But she refused to inspect the farthest reaches of her emotions. Perhaps if she didn’t think about them, those inconvenient feelings would go away.

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss that expressed his delight in her. “The feeling is mutual.”

She loved this quiet moment – love again, heaven save her – when she felt like nothing could ever go wrong.

Sliding her hand around the back of his head, she brought him down for a kiss.

Like everything in this radiant interim, it expressed affection and gratitude rather than desire.

Although desire hovered within reach, should they choose to pursue it.

When they drew apart, Athene left the bed and picked up her nightdress, tugging it over her head. It seemed silly to cling to modesty, but something within her cringed at prancing around the room naked.

“Ouch.”

Her gasp had Hugo lurching up against the pillows and frowning. “What is it?

Grimacing, she braced her waist with her hands. Overnight she seemed to have developed muscles that she’d never known she possessed and they all complained. Vociferously.

“My body is letting me know that it’s a long time since I’ve…” Fucked? That was George’s favorite word for congress, but it seemed too crass for the luminous communion she’d shared with Hugo.

“Damn it, Athene, I should have been more careful.” Hugo surged out of bed and rushed across to take her arms. “Do you want to lie down? Should I call a doctor?”

With a wry laugh, she surveyed over six feet of naked male looming above her.

She liked that he cared so much about her.

Nobody had cherished her in so long. George certainly hadn’t.

“Hugo, there’s no need for all this. You haven’t injured me.

Nothing’s seriously wrong. I’m just a little stiff.

I haven’t been with a man in a long time and we were… vigorous.”

Hugo surveyed her with a concerned expression. “Are you sure?”

“My few aches and pains don’t merit this fuss.”

“Yes, they do,” he said gravely. “I’d hate to hurt you.”

“You haven’t.” She stroked that stalwart jaw. He really was a knight in shining amor. Her first impression hadn’t been mistaken at all. “I just need more exercise.”

To her relief, that made him laugh. “That’s one word for it, I suppose.”

“Now go back to bed and don’t fret about me.”

He kissed her briefly, and she was thankful to see that he accepted her assurances.

A quick wash behind the screen made Athene feel better. Although it was hard not to be self-conscious, when her new lover was in the same room, listening. She supposed by the time she’d become used to sharing his bed, she’d be inured to this lack of privacy.

When she emerged, Hugo wore his spectacular robe and he’d poured two glasses of wine. A plate of delicacies waited on the small table between the armchairs. A sign that he intended to pause in their sensual journey.

He gestured to the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. “Will you join me?”

“I’d love to.” Oh, dear, that word yet again. She needed to banish “love” from her vocabulary quick smart, before it took up permanent residence.

Hugo waited for her to sit before he took his seat and passed her a glass.

She’d always liked his manners. Since leaving her family, she’d learned to appreciate the less spectacular common decencies.

Partly because when aristocratic clients dealt with underlings, the decencies weren’t nearly so common as they ought to be.

He raised his wine in her direction. “To us.”

“Hugo…” she said, then realized that she didn’t want to tell him to back off. It was too late anyway. She was drowning, yet she couldn’t summon the will to swim for shore. Keeping her misgivings to herself, she lifted her own glass. “To us.”

He sipped his wine then placed it on the table. “Are you hungry?”

Athene didn’t rush to reply. Wine of this quality deserved her attention. “Starving. Dinner feels like a long time ago.” As if to confirm her remark, the clock on the mantel struck five.

Hugo offered her the plate. Cheese and crackers, savory pastries, nuts, and dried fruit. She took a ham vol-au-vent and bit into it, appreciating the salty flavor.

She drank some more wine and relaxed back in the chair. “Tell me about Hampden Crags,” she said idly.

He looked at ease, too. She couldn’t help remembering how on edge he’d been this afternoon when he made his last-ditch attempt to convince her to have him. He looked ten years younger than that distraught suitor. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

The look he sent her told her that she merely deferred his questions.

But he accepted her tacit request for a little more time, thank goodness.

He offered her a cracker with cheese and she took it.

“I’ve lived there all my life. It’s on the moors, a few miles from Halifax.

Sheep mostly, although we raise some cattle, and I’ve started to breed horses for the army in the last few years. ”

Athene imagined that he was a good manager. She’d always recognized his competence. “It sounds heavenly.”

His snort expressed denial. “Most people would say it’s empty and desolate. Cold and wet and windy. High hills and heather.”

She knew the country he spoke of, although she’d grown up in a kinder northern landscape than his. “Big skies. Clean air. Room to move.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Yes.”

Her clipped response warned him that he’d agreed to put off delving into her background. “Dramatic outcrops. Waterfalls and tumbling streams. And yes, space for a man to breathe.”

“London must have been a trial to you.” It had always been one to her.

A wave of his hand dismissed her remark. “It had its compensations. Unless I’d come to London, I’d never have met you.”

Strange to think that if she hadn’t run away with George, she and Hugo would probably have attended the same assembly or house party.

Would she have liked him as much as she did now?

Would she have accepted him as a suitor?

Or had she been so starry-eyed over George’s cheap attractions that she’d dismiss Sir Hugo Brinsmead as too dull for words?

She liked to think that she’d value Hugo straightaway for the man he was. But she’d been an exceedingly stupid girl, so who knew?

Perhaps Hugo wouldn’t have singled her out either. Usually she cut off thoughts of might-have-beens. They were just too painful. That was the problem with lowering her barriers. She couldn’t control what came over them anymore.

She took another sip of wine. “I’m glad you came to London.”

He looked surprised. And pleased. “Are you?”

She gave a wry laugh. “Hugo, don’t be a blockhead. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t utterly besotted.”

Besotted. There was a nice safe word. Much safer than “love” with its overtones of forever.

His eyes glowed sapphire with happiness. “I’m delighted to hear it. You kept telling me to go away.”

Her lips flattened in self-loathing. “That was because I feared I’d end up here. Helpless in your thrall. I was trying to be wise, but wisdom remained out of reach.”

“I promise I’ll never willingly hurt you.” His deep voice rang with sincerity.

“I believe you.” She did. But hurt was inevitable. It was too late to avoid it. She was grimly aware that every ounce of joy that she experienced now would exact a penalty of pain, once the affair was over.

But she’d made her decision, the only decision she could. There was no point stewing about future misery. Better by far to wring every drop of happiness she could from her present circumstances. That included the inn’s wonderful food.

And taking the chance to satisfy her curiosity about her lover.

She reached for another pastry, an exquisite onion tart in crumbly, buttery pastry. Mr. Treddle was right to be proud of his wife’s cooking. These dainty mouthfuls were scrumptious. “Tell me about your family.”

“You’d like them.” His voice was warm with affection.

“I’m sure.” She’d never meet his family, so her relationship with them was immaterial.

“My father died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. So am I. He was a good man. Contented with his lot. Honest. Direct. Kind to people and animals. Respected.”

Athene wasn’t surprised to hear this. After all, didn’t all those adjectives apply to his son? “You admired him.”

“Of course. I loved him, too.”