shuddered deep within her body.
Panting, she collapsed, her hands too weak to hold him, her limbs heavy and languid, her body pulsing around him, before he pulled away.
He lowered his head to her shoulder. His heart beat a thunder against her ribs, his breathing ragged and tumultuous as her own. ‘Oh, hell,’ he whispered with what sounded like despair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped, her heart thundering, her body trembling with shock after shock.
He raised his head and gazed down on her with such tenderness he looked almost a different man. ‘Not you, darling,’ he said, his breathing hard and ragged. ‘Never you.’ He stroked damp strands of her hair back from her temples with hands that shook. ‘You were wonderful. Amazing.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Are you all right?’
The gentle concern in his face unfurled something in her chest. Something warm and wonderful. She knew right at that moment she’d fallen in love. She stroked his cheek. ‘I’m fine,’ she said smiling. ‘Really.’
He smiled sweetly and drew away from her, leaving her body, immediately drawing the sheet he’d used earlier over them both and pulling her into the circle of his arms.
‘Rest, sweet, and we’ll talk later.’ He rhythmically stroked from shoulder to hip and she felt warm and protected in his embrace.
Unable to shake the lethargy stealing over her senses, she sank into darkness.
Cocooned in blissful warmth, it was some moments before Rosa made sense of the sounds of the deep breathing nearby or the cushions beneath her and the heavy weight across her stomach. The glow of the fire answered her questions.
The kitchen at Gorham Place. Garth, sprawled naked beside her, one arm across her belly, his face turned away. He’d slipped off the cushions on to the hearth rug. She extricated herself from beneath his arm, sliding off the cushions to pull on her shift. He looked lovely in the warmth of the firelight, relaxed, his face devoid of all cynicism.
It would be dawn soon. They must leave before anyone arrived. There would be no more opportunities to search the house.
The realisation struck her hard. She had searched. She’d found nothing.
It wasn’t here. There was no will. For whatever reason, Papa had not kept his promise. Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps he simply hoped Grandfather would take care of them. Or thought he would wait until he came into his inheritance, not realising that he never would. One thing she knew for certain in her heart, one truth she would not give up. He had loved his daughters. Whatever had happened, it had been a mistake.
No sense in dwelling on what might or should have been. She had carved a new path out of her difficulties. It might not be particularly honourable, but at least she wasn’t crawling back to her grandfather in defeat. At heart, Garth seemed a much kinder man than her grandfather. She liked him. She just had to hope she was right to trust him.
She glanced around. There must be no evidence left of their presence here tonight. A banked fire might cause some raised brows, but could be seen as something Inchbold would do to warm the house after it had lain empty. Cushions on the floor and makeshift clothes-horses were out of the question.
Garth stirred and sighed in his sleep. He looked so peaceful, she hated to disturb him.
She flung her cloak around her shoulders and gathered the cushions. She carried them through to the library and replaced them on the sofa. An odd sense that she’d missed something nagged at her mind. But what? Was there perhaps more than one secret door in the desk? The urge to look again drove her upstairs. She discovered nothing new, but the feeling remained with her.
When she returned to the kitchen Garth was already up and buttoning his shirt.
‘Is it dry?’ she asked.
His dark eyes met hers and she was shocked at the anger she saw in their depths. ‘Where did you go?’
Feeling very naked, she pulled her cloak around her. ‘To put the cushions back. Why?’
He sat down on the hearth stool and rubbed a hand across his jaw, shaking his head. ‘I thought you’d run off.’
She stared at him, surprised. ‘Would you care?’
‘No.’ He winced. ‘Yes.’ He sat on the settle by the hearth, forearms resting on his thighs, his gaze intent. ‘Rose, what kind of game are you playing here?’
‘Game?’ She stared at him blankly.
‘Until a couple of hours ago, you were a virgin.’
Heat enveloped her. She