Lost in La La Land(43)

“You seemed fine without it.”

“Answer me,” he demanded, maybe annoyed by my being purposefully reserved.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He scowled.

“If that is still your wish, then yes. My answer is yes.” I hated that this was my response.

“If that’s still my wish?” He sounded aghast. “I’ve been upstairs, entertaining more than half your bloody family, being the perfect host to that scoundrel you call a cous—”

“To a woman, you loved. You have been playing host to a woman you loved.”

“’Loved’ being the operative word, Jane. Loved. I haven’t loved Anne in a long time.”

“You light up when she walks in the room. I saw you.”

“No, you saw me pretending to be happy. You saw me acting like a gentleman ought to when someone he can’t stand is in his house, but he isn’t permitted to be authentic. I can’t stand to be around that man. Watching him put his hands all over you and Anne and even Mary, ridiculous Mary, makes me imagine doing all sorts of vile things. Acts gentlemen don’t admit to once committed.” He exhaled loudly as if defeated. “I love you and I want to marry you. You and you alone.”

“Then I accept. I want to marry you, Wentworth. I want to be yours.”

“You are, you’re entirely mine.” He lowers his face, brushing his lips against my cheek, whispering to me in the dark and creepy secret passageway. “I must confess, I am having thoughts not to be entertained.” He placed a second kiss on my cheek, lingering too long and breathing hot breath on my ear and nape.

“You did mention you didn’t want to be parted from me,” I offered softly, having trouble keeping my own breath in check. “Does that include at night, when we must be separated?”

“Jane.” He said my name as if declaring all the indelicate desire burning inside him with one word.

“Frederick.” I said his, hoping I conveyed even half the lust.

Our eyes met when I pulled back, his seeking permission to do things nice men didn’t do until they were married. I prayed my stare offered the consent he was requesting as butterflies had a ball in my stomach.

Seeing the assent he wanted, he lost the delicacy and sweetness. He unleashed a fervor sweeping me into his chest, lifting me off the ground and turning for the brick wall leading to his bedroom.

When we got to the bricks he placed me down. I glanced back at him as I entered the tiny space, sliding through.

The tension of what was about to happen pricked at me. His gaze, stuck on mine, sucked me in and made me wonder what exactly he was thinking about. He appeared crazed and possibly angry, but he wasn’t.

When I got into his room I stood by the fire and listened as he scuffed his way through the bricks. The crackling wood tried to be louder than my rapidly beating half of a heart.

I gasped as he came into the room, stepping close to me again, becoming the delicate thing he thought I was. He reached for me, running his fingertips down my cheek, creating more heat than the fire shimmering off our faces.

I saw everything in his eyes. He made love to me with just a stare, far before he even took his next step closer. His fingers brushing my cheeks, cupping my face and tilting it to his, made me feel like I was a precious thing, a fragile creature.

I’d never been a sexual person.

I’d never been in that sort of relationship.

Jonathan and I were friends long before we were ever anything else.

But in Wentworth’s eyes, I saw the promise of what was to come and I braced myself.

“Captain . . .” I whispered as he lowered his face to mine, gracefully placing a kiss on my cheek.

“Are you certain?” he asked breathily.

“Yes, Captain.” Something about calling him that made my head spin even more than the dimly lit room.

“I love you, Jane,” he whispered again, kissing the other side of my face with the same passivity.

I waited with baited breath as his fingers danced down and then up my arms, tickling almost. His lips pressed in, slightly firmer as he kissed my cheek closer to the ear. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

He kissed lower on my neck as his hands made their way to the back of my dress, pulling at the tie. The force of the knot coming loose and bagging my dress around my slim body made me gasp again.

My eyes shot open as I bit my lip, noticing he’d stepped back. A grin crossed his lips as he tugged my dress down my arms and past my breasts to the floor. It pooled around me. I shivered as the heat of the fire licked at my left side as he reached for my stays, both his hands touching the top of my chest, brushing against my flesh where it swelled out the top, as he carefully untied it.

His fingers reached between my breasts, slowly and moving with intention, tugging at each lace, loosening the stays until it could be glided off.

I stood in my sheer petticoat, naked beneath it.

His eyes traveled me as I slid my arm through one armhole and then the other, letting the petticoat drop to the floor with the dress.

His gaze widened as his breath hitched. “You’re beautiful.” He lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles up my stomach, making me flinch when he made contact. He dragged, digging into my skin with his, ensuring I felt every bit of him against me.

Once his hand neared my breasts, he lifted the other, and cupped, lifting my breasts into his palms. He touched so gently I didn’t know how to respond as he weighed each breast, massaging carefully.