A Lady's Dream Come True - Grace Burrowes Page 0,99
garret rather than be under Mrs. Finchley’s roof without Tolliver’s escort.
“I must work tomorrow,” Oak said. “But I am free now. Shall we have that vanilla ice?”
“I would love to, but first, I fancy another treat, if you don’t mind?”
She arranged herself in such a manner that she could lick her treat to her heart’s content, while Oak fisted his hands in the sheets and prayed for self-restraint. By the time Vera had situated herself over him, he’d forgotten about Gunter’s, portraits, and anything but making love to the woman in his arms.
The pleasure was explosive, with Vera giving no quarter until Oak was a panting heap of happy male beneath her, and she was curled onto his chest, her chemise hors de combat at the foot of the bed.
As Oak drew a sketch of Merlin Hall on her back, thunder rumbled in the distance. The sun still shone through the window, though the curtains stirred on a sudden breeze.
“The children will be back soon,” Vera murmured, pushing up off Oak’s chest. “The bad weather will send them pelting home. Ah, well. I had my treat.” She stretched luxuriously, which presented her breasts to Oak in all their lovely perfection.
“I still want to share an ice with you,” he said as the curtains whipped about on a warm gust. “I truly do.”
Vera shifted off of him, and rather than come down beside him, she left the bed and closed the window.
“I’d like that, Oak, but today is apparently not the day for that outing.” She retrieved her chemise and dropped it over her head.
And that was wrong. They should not have to leap out of bed and dress in haste, should not have to forgo their ice because of the blighted weather. They should be making love at the end of a pretty summer day, talking quietly of domestic matters while Oak grumbled a little about how the cat in the Finchley painting still wasn’t quite right.
He shook himself free of that mental litany and climbed from the bed. Vera had disappeared behind the privacy screen, leaving Oak to dress himself. He borrowed her hairbrush to tidy up and was soon once again fully clothed.
Vera emerged from behind the privacy screen, dressed and needing only a few hooks done up before she was presentable.
Rain hit the window in a few hard spatters, then a steady downpour began.
“Stay until your brothers return with the children,” Vera said. “I don’t want you walking back to your rooms in this downpour.”
“I’d rather Cam and Ash not find me here,” Oak replied. “They will speculate about how you spent your afternoon, and they will interrogate me without mercy. If I’m elsewhere, they won’t know we’ve been trysting. Besides, I like a good ramble around old London town, and rain does interesting things to light.”
A hard rain turned London’s streets into sewers, and the stench in summer was not to be borne. He’d forgotten that about London.
Vera hugged him, and he hugged her back. “I wish you could stay.”
“I wish I could too.”
He kissed her again, wondering how many more times they’d exchange those words. Vera accompanied him to the front door, insisting he at least take an umbrella. He complied to oblige her, but a mere umbrella was pointless against a summer cloudburst.
“Give my regards to Longacre,” Oak said as Vera stood with him in the foyer. “I will call upon him soon myself.”
“And you will take me for a vanilla ice,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I will look forward to that, Oak. Very much.”
She smiled, he smiled, and then he was out in the frigid rain, wrecking his boots, missing the mud of the Hampshire countryside, and wondering why in the bloody hell he’d ever thought London was where all of his dreams would come true.
Yesterday’s lovemaking had been spectacular and harrowing, though Vera congratulated herself on having sent Oak on his way before she’d succumbed to tears. The fire of his passion had destroyed her from within, as lightning had destroyed her grandmother’s tree. Where a pleasant memory should have stood, Vera instead felt heartache, sorrow, and towering frustration.
Why in the name of everything dear must Oak be so determined to make his way in London? Why did she hate the place? For she still did. The noise and crowding were bearable, but the memories…
Vera nonetheless took herself off to call upon Richard Longacre, not quite sure why she dreaded the encounter. Richard had never been among those who’d offered insults