Page 103 of The Paid Companion

The risks were many and varied. Margaret and Bennett could easily come home early, and Margaret might discover that he was in the wrong bedchamber. Or one of the servants might hear the creak of the floorboards and, fearing burglars, come upstairs to investigate.

But he knew, deep down, it was not the risk of discovery that was holding him back. It was the possibility that all Elenora wanted or needed from him was a short-lived passion.

He thought about her dreams of financial and personal independence. For a brief, heady moment he pictured what it would be like to cast off the shackles of his responsibilities to the Lancaster family and run away with Elenora.

The fantasy of living a gloriously free life with her in some far-off clime, well beyond the reach of his relatives and the demands of those who depended upon him, shimmered in front of his eyes, an effervescent reflection on the window pane.

The image quickly vanished. He had commitments. He would keep them.

But tonight Elenora was only just down the hall.

He tightened the sash of his black silk dressing gown and turned away from the window. Picking up the candle, he crossed the room, opened the door and let himself out into the corridor.

He stood listening for a few seconds. There was no sound of a carriage out in the street, no noise from downstairs.

He went along the hall and stopped in front of Elenora’s bedchamber. No light shone beneath the door. He told himself he should take that as a sign that, unlike him, she had been able to go to sleep.

But what if she was lying there in the darkness, wide awake? It would not hurt to tap lightly on the door. If she was sound asleep, she would not notice the small noise.

He rapped, not quite as softly as he had intended. But, then, what would have been the point of a soundless little tap?

For a moment he heard nothing. Then he caught the unmistakable squeak of the bed frame followed by muffled footsteps.

The door opened. Elenora looked out at him with eyes that appeared fathomless in the glow of the candle. Her dark hair was pinned up under a lacy little cap. She wore a plain dressing gown patterned with small flowers.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered.

“Invite me inside.”

Her brows knit together. “Why?”

“Because, as a gentleman, I cannot enter your bedchamber without an invitation.”

“Oh.”

He held his breath, wondering what she would do.

Her mouth curved in a slow, sensual smile. She stood back and held the door wide. “Please, come in.”

Desire so powerful that it threatened to consume every other sensation thundered through his veins. He was already hard, fiercely aroused. He was desperate for her.

It took all the control he possessed not to seize her and carry her straight to the bed. He forced himself to move silently into the room and set the candle down on the nearest table.

She closed the door noiselessly and turned to face him.

“Arthur, I—”

“Hush. No one must hear us talking together in here.”

He took her into his arms and kissed her before she could speak another word.

Her arms went around him very tightly. He felt her nails sink into his back through the silk of his dressing gown. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing him inside.

Hewouldcontrol himself, he vowed. This time he would make the experience one that would ensure that she never forgot him.

He slid his palms down her spine, savoring the elegant curve. When his fingers closed over her hips, the feel of her firm, round buttocks under his hands almost sent him over the edge. He squeezed gently and urged her snugly against his rigid staff.

Another delicious little shiver went through her. She made a tiny, breathless sound and clung to him.