Come keep me warm.”
His eyes slid closed, and he drew in a long, shaky breath. Cecilia understood then he’d been waiting for her invitation, for her to welcome him. Her heart squeezed in her chest, a wrench both painful and sweet, and then she was in his arms, her cheek pressed to his warm skin, his steady heartbeat a rhythmic thump in her ear.
They were quiet for a time. Gideon ran his fingers through her hair in long, sensuous strokes, raising goosebumps over every inch of her skin. Finally, she lifted her head to glance up at him. “You—you’re not angry with me?”
“Not at the moment, no. I make no promises for tomorrow.” He nuzzled her neck, the rough stubble on his face scraping her sensitive skin.
Cecilia dragged her fingertips down his chest to his stomach, a small smile rising to her lips as his muscles tensed under the caress. Her skin felt as if it were about to burst into flames everywhere their bodies touched. She closed her eyes to savor the slow movement of Gideon’s hand in her hair. She listened to the crackle of the fire, and, just for now, she let herself float in his warmth, his touch, the crisp, masculine scent of his skin.
She should have fallen asleep, but even as the languorous warmth stole over her and her limbs melted against his, she remained awake, every inch of her alive and clamoring for his touch, a strange, hot knot pulled tight inside her lower belly.
“When I arrived home tonight and Amy said you were missing, I think I…went a little mad.” Gideon curled his big hand around her hip and pulled her tighter against him. “I was afraid for you. I…I can’t lose you. I’m in love with you, Cecilia.”
His voice was quiet, but his body was shaking against hers. Gideon, the strongest man she’d ever known, was shaking at the thought of losing her. Cecilia could feel his love for her in the way he held her, the break in his voice, the pounding of his heart against her ear.
Tears sprang to her eyes at the sweetness of him, this man who’d lost so much, yet could still feel so deeply, love so fiercely. She thought, fleetingly, of the Gothic romances she’d read, the lovers she’d found between the pages of her books, and wondered how she hadn’t realized, the moment she set foot in Darlington Castle, that Gideon wasn’t the villain, but the hero.
This was love. Love for a real, flesh-and-blood man who’d suffered unspeakable loss and grief, a man who had every reason to be bitter and angry, but still had the courage and strength to love again. “I love you too, Gideon.” She pressed a fervent kiss to the center of his chest. “I’m in love with you.”
Gideon’s breath caught, then his chest moved underneath her cheek in a sigh, as if he’d waited an eternity for those words. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, dropping a soft kiss on her temple.
Cecilia clung to him, joy and love and despair gathering like a storm inside her, both beautiful and heartbreaking at once. This love was more than anything she ever imagined love could be. She wanted to give him everything. All she carried inside her, everything she had, and everything she was, was his.
But it wouldn’t matter, in the end. He would lose her, or maybe it made more sense to say she’d lose him. They’d lose each other, because she’d lied to him about who she was, and her reasons for coming to Darlington Castle. Even if there hadn’t been lies between them, they came from two different worlds.
But now, tonight—just for this one night—she could make it matter. She raised her head from his chest and propped it on her hand. “Gideon, I…”
She fell silent, her tongue suddenly shy. What was she meant to say? She’d never been with a man before. Before Gideon, she’d never even kissed a man. She hadn’t any idea how to tell him she wanted him.
But perhaps he already knew. Cecilia’s lips curved. She was in his bed, clad in nothing but her night rail. Perhaps she didn’t need to say anything more.
“That’s an intriguing little smile.” Gideon’s gaze dropped to her mouth. He traced his thumb over her lower lip, but he made no move to kiss her.
So she reached for him, curling her hand around his jaw before dragging it slowly over his neck, and down his throat to his chest, the springy hairs