“I know. But . . .”
“But what?” Oh, he was angry now. His voice shook with emotion, and his hands clenched in iron grips. “You put your life at risk, and Charlotte’s, too.”
“Aaron, I just couldn’t leave you. It was all my fault you stopped to help them. I couldn’t simply drive away.”
“It’s a damned lucky thing you’re such a good shot. That was a risky trick, aiming for that knife. If you’d missed . . .”
“I did miss.” And now the emotion came. Her eyes teared up, and she began to tremble. “I did miss, curse you. My hand was unsteady, and I wasn’t braced for the recoil. I wasn’t aiming for the stupid knife. I was aiming for him.”
He touched her face. “Oh, love.”
She made an impatient swipe at her eyes. “And just think—the other day I was debating whether I could kill an eel to keep you. Tonight, when I saw that man lunge with his knife? There was no hesitation. I would have done anything, Aaron. Anything but leave you there alone.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he seized her by the arms. His grip was tight, and his voice was all rough edges.
“I need to know,” he said. “I need to know, right now, if you’re mine. I’ve been patient for years, and if need be, I can wait years more. I’ll do anything in my power to win you, to keep you. But I need to know, this moment, if you’ll be mine in the end.” His hands moved to bracket her face, uncomfortably tight. His gaze burned into hers. “Tell me.”
With every wild beat, her heart thumped against his pendant.
If she was looking for answers, she didn’t need to search any further than that.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Y—”
Before she could say it twice, his lips were on hers.
And then his hands were everywhere. He thrust them under her cloak, making contact with her shivering body. He cupped her br**sts through her frock, slid his hands downward to explore her hips and thighs. The bold possession of his touch stirred her blood. There was nothing of finesse or seduction in his touch. Only claiming. Raw, primal need.
As he ran his tongue along her neck and caught her earlobe in his teeth, he swept one hand down her leg and tossed up the edge of her skirts.
She was visited again by that dizzy, arousing thought from the time before she knew anything of him. From before any of this was possible.
His wrist is as big as my ankle.
Indeed, his fingers encircled her stockinged ankle easily, and she could visualize the corded tendons of his forearm flexing as he stroked higher, higher. Up to her knee, and higher still.
Between her legs, her pulse beat as a sweet, hollow ache.
“Diana,” he groaned. “I want to be in you. Deep in the heart of you.”
This was madness. It could not happen. Not here, not now. But she wanted it, too, and the all-consuming nature of her desire was a revelation. What a joy to want. To want so fiercely, with all her being, without moderation or reserve.
She was new to this, and the sort of coarse, thrilling words he whispered did not come easily to her lips.
“Yes.” At least she could manage that much. “Yes, yes.”
He slid his hand higher, over her garter and up. His touch was a brand against her bare, shivering thigh.
She clutched his neck, urging him further. “Yes.”
Until Charlotte moaned and stirred in the wagon bed, and they jolted apart.
Her whole body mourned the loss. Her ni**les, tight and achy, strained toward him.
“I’d forgotten her.” She clapped a hand to her brow.
Aaron chuckled between ragged breaths. “I can’t believe she slept through everything.”
“She’s always been that way. Slept like a stone, ever since she was a baby. I’ll be hard-pressed to make her believe any of this tomorrow.”
“Then don’t try. I think you’d do better to keep it between us.”
“But Aaron . . .”
She didn’t want to tell Charlotte about the swindler or the fight, but they wouldn’t be able to hide their relationship much longer.
“Wait until Thursday,” he said. “I want to talk with Lord Payne before we make any plans. I’ve had my differences with the man, and I didn’t care for the way he behaved when he eloped with your sister . . . but I’m determined to do better myself. He’s your brother-in-law and the man of the family. I don’t need his permission, but I want to speak with him about this—about us—and hear what he has to say. All right?”
She nodded. “All right.”
He pressed his brow to hers and caressed her lips with a tender kiss. “There’s my girl.”
As they kissed, her muzzy thoughts swarmed in two opposite directions, one sublime and one utterly mundane.
The sublime: She was his girl. His girl. His girl.
The mundane: Now she really had to practice that ridiculous play.
CHAPTER 9