grew, making her feel wonderful. No, wonderful was an inadequate word. Treasured. For the first time in her life she lived up to her name. She felt as if she could be a god of fertility.
She’d been bold enough to kiss him first. She was greedy, really, her blood singing with desire.
The night was for him, however. Maris would share herself with no motive except to let him know without a doubt that she valued him. He’d called it a pity fuck, and that was crude and unfair. She would give him the friendship he’d so effortlessly won from her with his charm and kindness.
His problem could have flattened another man, one who gave up and lost himself in ignorance. But Reyn was a fighter, even in civilian life. She seized his fingers and led them to her hollow. She was wet already. Shameless. But before she led him any further, she would talk to him.
“You touch me,” she whispered. “It hasn’t been the same when I’ve done it to myself, only imagining that you are there.”
“You think of me?” Through his gruffness, she heard the yearning. What a coil they were in.
“Every night. Every day as well. At first I thought it was the grief and loneliness that led me to fantasy. You know”—her voice hitched, but she went on—“I loved Henry, no matter what I’d done. His death was a shock even though I knew it would happen eventually. But he died alone in his library. You cannot imagine my guilt. It was made worse because I missed you. It doesn’t make any sense to me still—I barely knew you but when you left Kelby Hall—”
“As you asked me to,” he reminded her, his fingers still circling between them.
It was the most extraordinary conversation of her life. She was naked in a barn, allowing him to touch her. Needing him to touch her. But before she undressed him, she would say what she’d come for.
Maris sighed. “What would you have me do? There was no reason for you to stay. I moved to the Dower House almost immediately and went about my life, mourning many things.”
“And then you found out you were pregnant.”
“It seemed impossible. But I swear I would have told you. You know now. I am not trifling with you, Reyn. I want you, even if I cannot imagine how to accomplish it.”
She hissed as he slid a finger inside her.
“I think you are managing very well, my lady.”
“We can have this. If we are careful. I’m so afraid David will find out, but I almost don’t care.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Almost? I have offered you marriage, Maris, even if I’m not worthy. But I will take you as my mistress tonight gladly.”
She covered his mouth with her hand, where he proceeded to give it dogged devotion with his wicked swirling tongue. “You are terribly worthy. It is I who am not worthy of you. I’m a coward, Reyn. You invite me to put my past behind me, but I dare not. It’s just too soon.”
“Crumbs,” he said when she withdrew her hand.
“Pardon?”
“You’ve scattered crumbs for me, but I’m not too proud to lick them up. You give me hope.”
And that is exactly what she had come to do.
Parading about as Lady Kelby had never meant anything to her. She was not averse to being plain Mrs. Durant. It had taken Reyn’s confession for her to realize what a truly noble man he was.
In so many ways, it would be easier to be the wife of a country gentleman who raised horses. Their properties marched together, could be joined. Their physical joining had always been a thing of wonder to her, so different from anything she had experienced either with her husband or David. But would a son forgive her once he learned that she’d tossed away the Kelby fortune?
She wouldn’t think of the necessary waiting ahead, but just the now, with the rain pattering on the roof, lulling her senses. Reyn was taking his crumb-licking seriously, his tongue teasing the edge of her ear, her throat, the crease between her breasts. He cupped one in his free hand as she writhed under him, nuzzled her with a gentleness that went straight to her heart. His path led over her stomach to where his hand already worked feverishly.
And she had thought the night was meant for him.
His mouth was hot, insistent, working in tandem with his work-roughened hands. Maris let herself feel every freeing sweep