A Lily Among Thorns(64)

With an audible click, the drawer slid forward a fraction of an inch. Serena gave a satisfied smile and grasped the handle. Solomon shoved his thoughts aside and leaned forward.

At that moment there came the clear sound of footsteps in the corridor and the low murmur of well-bred masculine voices.

Solomon froze, but Serena never hesitated. Sweeping the lock picks out of sight under the desk, she straddled him. The rustle of her petticoats as they slid up to reveal a dazzling length of silk stocking was the loudest sound he had ever heard. A hand fell heavily on the doorknob, and she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

It was for the benefit of the men outside, he knew that. And yet it felt more genuine than either of their previous kisses. The first time, he’d kissed her, and she’d merely let him. The second time, she’d been playing some twisted game that made sense only to her.

Now she was kissing him with no pretense at all, as if she’d only been waiting for this excuse. As if she’d seen her chance and taken it. Her bare hands were chilly against his face, her mouth was hot, and both trembled.

He slid one hand up to cup the back of her head, tiny silk flowers and dark hair against his palm, and kissed her back fiercely. After a moment, her hands and lips gentled and steadied. She opened her mouth and pressed against him, unfurling under his touch like a lily blossoming among thorns, bright and unexpected and vulnerable. Her hands slid down to his shoulders and chest. He knew they were going to have to stop soon, but he couldn’t remember why.

He ran his hand down over her thigh to where her petticoats pooled and slid it slowly up her leg under her skirts. Serena moaned against his mouth. He felt on the brink of being transmuted into something entirely new.

The door opened.





Chapter 15


It felt as good as Serena had known it would. It felt better. It was wonderful, and Solomon was kissing her back, and she wanted it to be just like this forever. She wanted it so badly. She should pull back now. She should look at Mr. Elbourn. Solomon’s hand was warm and heavy on her thigh, and his other hand was tangled in her hair. His chest was rising and falling in great heaves under her palm; she could feel his breath on her skin in the tiny intervals between kisses.

Deep down she’d hoped all along she’d have to do this. It had been at the back of her mind all evening. She’d felt him watching her pick the lock, and she’d wanted his touch on the back of her neck the way a man wanted air when he was being smothered.

She wasn’t going to stop until she had to.

She heard Mr. Elbourn’s voice from the doorway. “I’ll show you my First Folio another time, MacOwen.” Footsteps retreated, and as the door closed behind them an undertone was carried back to them—“Get hold of yourself, man! It’s nothing we haven’t all seen before.”

Serena surfaced with a gasp. Solomon’s eyes were still closed, his chest still heaving under his purple silk waistcoat. She didn’t know if he’d even heard.

It’s nothing we haven’t all seen before. But it was. True, they’d all seen her legs. They’d seen her naked body, but Solomon saw her. And she let him. None of them—not even Harry, her first, whom she’d thought she loved—had ever had the power over her that Solomon did after three kisses.

She climbed off him slowly, not meeting his eyes. Straightening her skirts, she leaned back against the desk, supporting herself with the heels of her hands on the rosewood. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice sounded exposed, too, raw and thready.

He blinked, stung. “Why not?”

With a swirl of skirts she knelt on the floor, yanking the drawer out onto the floor with a clatter. “Because it was stupid,” she said savagely. She was so weak. Smollett and Elbourn and Braithwaite and all those men out there made her feel so awful and ashamed and angry with just their leers and their jibes, and she’d never given a damn about any of them. How would she feel when Solomon didn’t think her worth a second glance anymore? Just the tiny frown now settling between his brows made the whole world seem wrong.

“Why was it stupid?” he demanded. “Dash it, Serena, are we going to have to do this every time we—?”

Every time: he was so sure of her already. Her mouth twisted. “We have work to do.” She lifted out stacks of paper. Nothing interesting there that she could see, but the drawer looked shallower than it should. She felt around the edges of the bottom. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Solomon rolling up her lock-picking tools in their strip of black velvet and setting them next to her reticule. Then he waited.