A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(50)

“Yes,” she said, breathless with joy. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Because I love you too, Rafe, I love”

He seized her mouth with his and kissed her hungrily, his hands coming up to her coiffure and disheveling it. She didn’t care in the least. His mouth was so hot, delicious, consuming her with light sensual caresses, then ravaging deep and hard. She responded eagerly, shivering in his arms as her body tried to accommodate the surfeit of pleasure, too much, too fast.

Rafe dragged his parted lips slowly down her throat, exciting nerve endings, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His mouth went down to her chest, and within the confinement of her bodice, she felt the tips of her br**sts turn hard and sensitive. “Hannah,” he whispered, spreading feverish kisses across her skin, “I’ve never wanted anyone this much before. You’re so beautiful in every way…and everything I find out about you makes me love you more …” He lifted his head and gave it a rough shake as if to recall himself to where he was. A self-mocking grin came to his lips. “My God. We’d better make this a short betrothal. Here, give me your handno, the other.” He searched one of the coat pockets and unearthed a shining circlet. It was a garnet set in silver. “This is why I went to the village today,” he said, slipping the ring onto her fourth finger. “I’ll buy you a diamond in London, but we had to start out with something.”

“It’s perfect,” Hannah said, looking down at it with shining eyes. “A garnet means enduring love. Did you know that?”

He shook his head, staring at her as if she were a miracle.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hannah impulsively kissed him. Rafe angled his head over hers, possessing her lips with soft erotic demand. She ran her hands over the powerful lines of his body in a timid but ardent exploration, until she felt him shiver.

Gasping, he held her back from him. “Hannah…sweetheart, I’m…I’ve reached my limits. We have to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“I know, love. But I have to escort you back inside before everyone notices that we’re missing.”

Everything in her rebelled at the thought of returning to the large, crowded ballroom. The talking, dancing, the long formal supper…it would be torture, when all she wanted was to be with him. Daringly, Hannah reached out to toy with the buttons of his waistcoat. “Take me to the bachelor’s house. I’m sure it’s empty. Everyone is at the manor.”

He gave her a sardonic glance. “If I did that, sweetheart, there is no way you would get out of there with your innocence intact.”

“I want you to compromise me,” she told him.

“You do? Why, love?”

“Because I want to be yours in every way.”

“You already are,” he murmured.

“Not that way. Not yet. And even if you don’t compromise me, I’m going to tell everyone that you did. So you may as well do it in actuality.”

Rafe laughed at her threat. “In America,” he told her, “we would say you’re trying to seal the deal.” Gently he framed her face in his hands, and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “But you don’t have to, sweetheart. There’s nothing on earth that will keep me from marrying you. You can trust me.”

“I do trust you. But …”

His brows lifted. “But?”

The skin beneath his fingers warmed a few degrees. “I want you. I want to be close to you. As…as you wrote in the letter.”

He gave her one of those slow smiles that sent hot and cold chills down her spine. “In that case…maybe I’ll compromise you just a little.”

PULLING HANNAH UP FROM THE BENCH, RAFE TOOK HER WITH him to the bachelor’s house. He argued with himself every step of the way, knowing the right thing to do was to take her back to the manor without delay. And yet the desire to be alone with her, to hold her in privacy, was simply too powerful and all-encompassing to resist.

They went inside the bachelor’s house, with its dark, stately furniture and paneled walls and luxurious rugs. Coals glowed in the bedroom hearth, spreading a pool of yellow and orange across the floor.

Rafe lit a bedside lamp and turned it low, and turned to look at Hannah. She had shed his coat and was reaching back to unfasten her ballgown. He saw her expression, how she was trying to appear nonchalant as if going to bed with a man were a normal occurrence for her. And he was filled with amusement and tenderness, and the most unholy ache of lust he’d ever experienced.

He went to her and reached around her, closing his hands over hers. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

Hannah tugged her hands free and slipped them behind his neck. “I can’t think of a thing I’d rather be doing,” she told him.

He bent to kiss her compulsively, pausing only to murmur, “Oh, love, neither can I.”

Slowly he removed layers of silk and linen, and unhooked her corset, and rolled the stockings from her legs. When every last garment was gone, and she was stretched blushing on the bed before him, he let his gaze wander along her slender body, and he let out a shaking sigh. She was so beautiful, so innocent and trusting. He touched her breast, molding the softness with fingers that held a slight tremor.

Her gaze lifted to his face. “Are you nervous?” she asked with a touch of surprise.