T here in an English meadow, at the height of an English summer, standing in Maximus’s embrace, Peggy knew exactly what she wanted. That should have given her confidence and a sense of ease. It did not. In fact, dear heaven, she trembled with nerves! All her young womanhood, she had avoided intimacy, which was no easy thing for a girl in the East End.
So many young women had to go on the game just to make ends meet. Or find a male protector to be shielded from a dangerous world. But sometimes the protector proved dangerous too.
Her mother had shielded her from that.
She could choose Maximus because she longed to know him and his body and what he could do with it. She did not have to make a bargain with him. Not even a marriage one, which was really just a financial contract for so many women that kept them from ruin. If they were wise. And lucky.
“Are you cold?” he asked, sliding his gloved hand along her arm.
She shook her head.
“But you are shaking.”
“Because…”
“Yes?” he prompted, his own eyes hot with desire for her. But he was too good, too much a gentleman, to push because he had such power over her. A power ordained by society.
And that? That control he showed is what pushed her over the edge.
Oh, he had kissed her before, but he had not tried to take her.
She knew he wanted to. She recognized desire. She’d seen it often enough, watching the men and women in taverns throughout the years.
“I want you to be the one,” she rushed.
“The one?” he echoed, a strange look crossing his face, even as his sensual lips parted and his gaze lowered to her mouth.
“I can be with you because this is different. You are not trying to have me in exchange for jewels, or horses, or a house, or a set of gowns,” she explained swiftly. “You want me for me alone, and I want you too.”
“Thank God you know it,” he growled before sliding his gloved hand up to her jawline. Then he stroked his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and positioned her for his kiss.
“I can always stop,” he rumbled. “It will not be easy, for I have burned for you for many a night, and throughout every day.”
“And that is why I choose you,” she whispered. “I am not just here for your pleasure.”
“No,” he agreed. “While it is true that I saw you could help me, I wish you to be here because I know I can help you too.”
“Then help me now. Show me what this is all about.”
Tears stung her eyes then for the sweetness of this, the slow gentle exquisite heat of it. So many girls she knew never got to experience a moment in a meadow with a man like him.
Life was often too rough and cruel for that.
She tilted her head back farther. “Kiss me,” she urged.
With those words, it seemed as if a torrent of passion unleashed in him. Maximus lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips.
The kiss was no meeting of flesh. No, it was an exchange of souls, of minds, of hearts, and a passion so wild she did not know how she would ever find herself again.
As his lips traced over hers, he wrapped his arms about her body, arching against her.
She curved easily, her hips pressing towards his body. As their hot kiss fanned the need growing deep within her, she marveled at the way he felt against her.
How she loved his hard body, covered in his fine clothes. She wanted to touch every bit of him, know every muscle, every surface.
His hand slid down her back, kneading her bottom gently, then slid to her hips.
He parted her legs with one of his own, his muscled thigh pressing against the apex of her thighs.
A warm ache pulsed there, and she longed for more.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he lowered them to the flower-strewn meadow.
As she laid back, she caught sight of the cerulean sky, clouds skimming past. She felt herself transported into a place she’d never even known existed, where fear ceased and there was only him and the pleasure he was awakening within her.
Maximus picked a light blue flower and then, delicately, sweetly, as if he knew she needed sweetness over fierce passion, he traced the petals over her eyelids, then her lips.
The soft flower filled her nostrils with its incandescent scent, and she felt tears prick at her eyes. Not out of pain, but out of such joy that she had found this. Even if she couldn’t keep it. Even if it wasn’t really hers.
He traced that flower along the line of her throat, then over the swells of her breasts, before leaning down and kissing the soft curves.
A groan of pleasure tumbled past his lips as he carefully pulled the bodice of her gown down. For several moments, he gazed upon her worshipfully, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life than her.
Then he took one of her nipples into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.
An astonished cry passed her lips as pleasure blossomed between her legs. How could kissing her breasts evoke such sensation? She was bewildered but fascinated as he then paid attention to her other breast.
Laying down beside her, he brought his mouth back to hers as he slipped her gown up past her stockings and the bows tied just above her knees.
His strong, capable hand stroked over her thighs. He took his time, easing her, helping her grow accustomed to his touch, until her hips were bucking and the place between her thighs grew ever more in need of him.
Maximus teased the line of her lips with his tongue, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth, he trailed his fingers into her slick folds.
The feeling was so shocking, so good, she grabbed hold of him and let herself go entirely.
Ever so slowly, as if he would take all the time in eternity, he stroked her.
The sensations of sheer bliss filled her with need—a need to be released. She strained against him, her hands winding into his hair.
And then she pitched over into bliss that undulated from her core. It was so intense, so exquisite, that she could not breathe for several moments.
And then he was pulling off his own garments as if he desperately longed to feel her against him.
When his sex sprung from his breeches, hard and big, she let out a peep of dismay.
He was not the first man she’d ever seen. Where she’d grown up, it was impossible to be innocent. But she’d never really considered that it would have to go inside her.
Her body ached for it. She knew that. But her mind? It rebelled.
Suddenly, she whispered, wanting to be completely clear, “I have never done this before.”
He paused, gazing down into her eyes. “Yet you trust me?”
She placed her hand on the side of his face, gazed into his eyes, and considered.
Trust.
It was such a tricky word. She had been trained all her life to never trust a man.
She’d promised her mother she’d never be a fool.
But she wasn’t giving him her heart. She’d never break her promise to her mother. She was only giving him her body. Surely. She pushed down the whisper deep inside that she was lying to herself.
She wanted him too much to listen to that treacherous little warning that she was going too far. No, she could pull back. She wasn’t at risk of loving him. This was just a part of him waking her up. She did not have to lose herself for that!
“I trust you,” she whispered, “in this.”
A subtle look crossed his face, but then it was gone, as if the opportunity to make love to her outweighed all else.
Then he inched her skirts up above her hips, rested between her thighs, and rubbed his sex against her core.
A gasp tore from her lips at how sensitive she was. Immediately, her hips arched, trying to encourage him to take her.
He blew out a rough breath, then slowly, oh so slowly, he rocked into her opening.
A sharp pain bolted through her body.
He strained above her, as he clearly tried to reduce that pain. “Is it too much?” he growled.
She could tell that passion urged him to go forward without thinking, but he was resisting that. He cared about her and how she felt.
It did almost feel like too much. It felt impossible. But then she knew that was absurd! The female body had been designed for this. And her body? It had been designed for him. Yes, her body could do it. So she lifted her legs and linked them about his hips, as if she could somehow make them one that way.
“You are not too much,” she whispered. “You are perfect.”
He gazed down into her eyes, and despite his eye patch, she felt the intensity of his soul shift in his gaze. And then all of the sensations in her body became so much more than physical.
She felt elevated to someplace beyond just her body as he made love to her, stroking her within.
His hips began to move faster and faster. His fingers sought out her most sensitive spot.
And within moments, she was soaring into bliss again, and he called out her name as he pulled out from her body. Protecting her. Keeping her safe.
And she knew then that Maximus was unlike any man she had ever known. And if she was to choose one, it would be him.
But she could not choose him. She was not allowed. And she was not for him. She was a thief. Not a lady. So, she’d have to choose this. For as long as she could.