gone, smoothing a hand over her unruly morning curls, winding one around his clever finger. “I’ll return for tea?” he offered in an indulgent whisper. “We have so much to discuss.”
She hadn’t looked forward to anything with such relish in as long as she could remember.
They could discuss the past, of course. And then… turn their eyes to the future.
Was this hope? This glow in her chest? This soft, bubbling effervescence that made her feel as if her blood were rendered of champagne. It’d been so long since she’d felt anything of the kind, she couldn’t exactly place a name on it.
The only thing she knew for certain: Titus was the cause. He was the cure to her ills and the balm to her soul.
He had the heart of a saint, the body of a god, and the appetite of a libertine.
William had grown soft and bloated in their years together, his hair thin and his middle thick. His teeth yellowed by vice and lack of consistent hygienic practices. Everything about him, from his breath to the sound of his voice, used to offend her.
Perhaps she might have felt differently had she loved him… if he’d been worthy of her regard in any respect.
Titus was as different from him as night was from day. Age had only improved upon what youth had rendered. Muscles developed through labor as a lad were kept taut with strength from training at the club with some of his compatriots from the army.
Even his scent enticed her, so sharp and clean, mixed with the cedar of his wardrobe and the spice of his aftershave. His voice had crooned wicked things into her ears with the resonance and reverence of cathedral bells, vibrating to the very soul of her.
After the tumult of their first encounter, their lovemaking had become more leisurely and deliberate, enough to where they were able to rediscover each other with inexhaustible delight.
They’d had to be creative with her shoulder, finding positions that didn’t jostle her too terribly, nor could she bear weight.
Nora clamped her lips together as she remembered the way he’d gently rolled her on her side, curling his lithe, strong body against her back and lifting her leg in the air to enter her from behind.
She’d allowed herself to luxuriate in all the sensations of him. The tickle of the hair on his thighs against her backside. The corrugations of his ribs as he’d rolled and contracted.
And his clever, lovely fingers as they—
A knock sounded at the door, distracting her from her salacious reverie. Likely Felicity come to keep her company. She stood, abandoning her brush to the table, and swept down the hall, adjusting her sling as she went.
Her excitement bubbled over even before she was able to reach the door. “Felicity, darling, you’ll never guess what—”
The Baron Cresthaven, her father, stood where she’d expected to find her sister, his hands locked behind his back in his requisite regimental posture.
Though it had been only weeks since she’d seen him, he seemed older, somehow. Even though he still towered over her, he might have lost a bit of height. His beard seemed threaded with more grey and silver, and the lines at his eyes and mouth grooved deeper into his skin.
“Papa,” she croaked through her surprise. She’d lived with the man for the first twenty years of her life, had seen him often thereafter, and she could still never tell if his features were indignant, or just arranged thusly.
“Honoria,” he greeted with a bland sort of insouciance. As if he were disappointed to find her there, even though she could be the only person he’d come to see.
She pulled the door open wider, stepping aside. “Won’t you come in?”
He walked through the entryway to Titus’s private apartments, and she became immediately distraught and defensive. He was an interloper here. A tremulous anxiety caused her to feel slightly ill, his presence covering her previous good cheer like a cold, damp blanket made of scratchy wool.
Still, a little seed of hope bloomed within her. Perhaps it was finally deemed safe enough for him to visit. Or he’d news from home.
Was it too much to hope he pitied her? That he worried for her wellbeing after all that’d transpired…
She’d almost lost her life, his firstborn. Did that mean something to him?
Trailing him as he strode down the hall and into the great room arranged to make the most of the splendid views of the city, she asked, “Does Doctor Conleith know you’ve come?