Page 29 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

And now, my love, it’s time to part,

And now the worst of woe will start.

I’ll remember you until I die,

And speak your name upon a sigh.

Athene’s heart split, as she watched desolation seep into Hugo’s chiseled features. He looked like an old man. He released her and turned to stare into the fire, as if he could no longer bear to look at her.

How she loathed hurting him. She’d always dreaded damaging this exceptional man. But then he’d kissed her and begged her and turned her frenzied with lust, and she’d thought only of satisfying her wanton desires. She’d been so selfish. Now it was too late.

She flinched to recall the self-confident man she’d met. He’d struck her then as someone who was satisfied with his place in the world. He didn’t look like that now. He looked as if someone had carved out his heart with a rusty knife.

She’d done that to him. It made her wish that she’d never been born.

Her father had said that to her in the vile letter he’d sent to Vienna. Right now, she couldn’t help agreeing with him.

“I can’t give up.” Hugo’s voice was a low rumble of despair.

“You must.”

He lifted his head to regard her in agonized bewilderment. “Then what am I to do?’

She flinched again. “You said…you said you were prepared to continue the affair.”

A muscle jerked in his lean cheek, proof of his disquiet. “I lied.”

She’d always known it. Despite his enjoyment of her body, he’d made no effort to hide that in his view, her role as his mistress was a stepping stone to marriage.

Athene wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to hold together. She felt ready to break into a thousand pieces. When she spoke, her voice came out as a reedy whisper. “Do you want us to part?”

His eyes bored into her, rifled all her secrets, including the greatest secret of all, that she loved him. “Do you?”

Her lips felt so stiff, they could have been made of metal. “No.”

“Then I don’t either.”

She sucked in a relieved breath. At least he wasn’t leaving her.

Yet.

“We have so much.” Regret weighted her words. “You’ve made me so happy these last few days. We can go on like this.”

He went back to brooding over the fire. “For a while, I suppose.”

She muffled a whimper. “I know it isn’t forever. I won’t cause problems when we’re done.”

His brief sardonic laugh was so different from his usual heartfelt humor. “Very accommodating of you, I’m sure.”

She spread her hands, wondering how a night that started out with such joy ended in this devastation. Her fault. Everything was her fault. “You’ll have to marry at some stage.”

He shot her another of those piercing glances. “If Yorkshire is the stumbling block, I can leave Yorkshire.”

She took a clumsy backward step and pressed one hand to her racing heart. “But Hampden Crags is your home.”

“Aye, it is.”

“And you love it.”

“Aye, I do.”

“You can’t give that up.”

“I could, if it means you’ll be my wife.”

Incredulous, she sank into her chair. The scale of Hugo’s offer befuddled her reeling mind. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are.” He rested one muscled arm on the wooden mantelpiece and bowed his tousled golden head over the flames. His broad shoulders slumped in something that looked very like defeat. Once, she’d thought nothing could defeat him.

“We’ve only been together a couple of days. It’s too soon to upend your entire life.”

“I won’t change. Will you?”

Athene should say yes. She should say that she had every intention of moving on, once their passion faded. But she couldn’t lie. A lie would taint the stark honesty of what she felt every time he joined that big, beautiful body with hers. “No.”

His hand fisted against the mantelpiece. While he avoided looking at her, her gaze clung to his rugged profile. His physical splendor just seemed to make everything worse.

After a long pause, he spoke. “We can live anywhere. Dorset. Cornwall. Scotland. London. If you’re worried about people talking about you, we can go to the Continent.

France is open to British travelers now.

You could see Italy at last. Hell, why not Australia?

That will get you well away from scandal. ”

She licked dry lips. “You don’t want to go to Australia.”

“No, perhaps that’s taking things too far in every sense of the word.”

She rose on rubbery legs and crossed to place one hand on his back. Under his flimsy cambric shirt, she felt the warmth of his skin and also his quivering tension. She waited for him to jerk away, because she knew that he was angry with her. But he remained where he was.

“Hugo, you’d come to hate me if I forced you to leave your home,” she said softly. “I’m not cruel enough to make you give that up.”

Whirling around, he seized her hand. He fastened a lacerating gaze on her features. “I can’t give you up either.”

To avoid the agony she read in his eyes and also because she hungered for his touch, she stepped close.

She slid her arm around him, taking dangerous comfort from his strength.

He released her hand and drew her against him.

She snatched a breath redolent of his spicy masculine scent and told herself to accept what she had, because it was all there would ever be.

After all the lonely years, it should satisfy her.

But by all that was holy, she wanted more. She wanted what he wanted, heaven help her. Hugo in her bed every night. Building a life together. Children. Plans. Promises.

She’d been such a fool. She’d hoped that giving in to her desire for him would sate her. It turned out that surrender to physical need was the gateway to wanting everything.

Athene had spent years cursing her youthful recklessness. But the price of her rashness had never cut so deep as it did right now.

She pressed against Hugo and told herself that she could bear it. She had to. “You don’t have to give me up.”

Athene knew that it wasn’t enough for him. It wasn’t enough for her, for pity’s sake. But it was the best that she could do. He tightened his embrace and despite all the turmoil and the fact that they’d reached no genuine solution, she drew comfort from his touch.

“Shall we go back to bed?” Hugo asked eventually.

“Yes,” she said. Because whatever else divided them, their passion was too powerful to deny.

But as they lay together in the firelit darkness, they didn’t make love. Instead they twined their arms about each other, as if defending themselves from a world that sought to rip them apart.

Athene stayed awake, struggling to come to terms with Hugo’s offer to give up his home for her.

She’d never ask him to do it, but she understood the magnitude of the sacrifice.

It spoke of a depth of commitment to her that awed her.

And daunted her. She was tragically aware of what misery that meant for both of them in the future.

Beside her, Hugo was awake, too. But he didn’t speak.

What was left to say?

***

Hugo was lying flat on his back when he stirred to the drift of warm silk over his body.

As heated lips grazed his bare chest, he made a hoarse sound of approval and raised heavy eyelids to see Athene poised on her knees beside him.

Her thick black hair tumbled down over her shoulders to tease his naked skin.

He’d taken off his shirt last night before lying down. He still wore his breeches. He didn’t need to glance down to know he already hardened. Every morning at the Three Crowns, he’d greeted the day with a cockstand. That had resulted in some delightful frolics.

Athene trailed her lips across to lick his nipple. Heat sizzled through him, as he caught her rope of black hair in his fist.

“That tickles.” His voice rasped with drowsiness and burgeoning arousal.

“You’re awake.” She raised her head and smiled at him. “Good morning.”

After last night’s turmoil and conflict, Hugo hadn’t been sure what to expect today. But the smile she gave him was unshadowed, and he read desire in those velvety brown eyes.

His fingers raked through her hair. She still wore her white nightdress, which would provide an impression of modesty, if the wide neck didn’t gape to reveal her sumptuous breasts. “Good morning to you, too.”

It was late. He’d lain awake too long, raging against what he couldn’t change.

He couldn’t see the clock in the salon, but the curtains were open to full morning.

The light let him admire her lovely face.

When her eyes lowered to her task, a fan of black lashes made crescents on her cheekbones.

Another rainy day, too. Not that he had plans to venture far from this bed.

Despite his growing sensual interest, weariness weighted his limbs.

He wasn’t angry anymore. By the time he’d dropped off last night, he’d just been sad. Sad and defeated and lost. He’d found the woman he wanted, but unless something changed between them, she was never going to be his wife.

But how could he remain downcast, when Athene seduced him so thoroughly? As she’d said last night, they didn’t have everything, but what they had was a gift.

She pressed her lips to his. Streams of pleasure washed over him as she took her time, tasting him with open enjoyment. He snaked one hand around her neck to bring her down on top of him with the idea of rolling over and thrusting inside her.

To his surprise, she made a faint protest and wriggled free. “Not this morning.”

Hugo let her go and studied her face. “What is it, Athene? Is something wrong?”

She’d never denied him, not since they’d come to Putney. When he was an old, old man drawing his last breath, he’d remember her swift response to his touch.

“No.”

Then he realized what it must be. His touch turned tender, as he ran his hand down her arm. “Is it your courses?”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “No.”

“Then what is it?” This morning he was at sea with her. More than usual. She’d never woken him with kisses before. Did that mean she was interested in bed sport? She’d know that he was as hard as a wooden mast, so there was no reluctance on his part.