“What?” he asked, turning back to her.
“Mmm…nothing.” She sat up, and once again, Geoffrey was struck by her comfort with her own nudity. Being a scientist, she was probably practical about such things, like him. Twelve years of war had divested him of modesty for certain.
Liliana twisted her knees to the side, scooting over to make room for him on the chaise. He sat beside her and breathed in her scent as she nestled into his shoulder.
“I have this need to be close to you,” she said, her voice laced with bemusement, as if she could hardly countenance the feeling. He supposed an independent, intelligent woman like her might wonder at that.
“Most women have that inclination after lovemaking, if they’ve been well satisfied,” he explained, knowing Liliana craved the knowledge.
“Do men feel the same?” she asked, snuggling in closer.
“Men have an inclination to go immediately to sleep.”
She slapped him in the arm.
“I’m quite serious.”
Liliana pulled away, eyeing him. “You don’t look very tired to me.”
Geoffrey smiled. Sitting here, enjoying her pleasure-sated features, he never wanted to close his eyes again. “How could I sleep knowing I would miss this moment of having you in my arms?” he asked, holding her gaze.
She looked away, blinking. Geoffrey wondered if she even understood her feelings for him. Yes, she was a curious creature, but no virgin could give herself in such an unabandoned fashion without having a care for her lover.
“It’s not always like this, either, is it?” she asked, her voice solemn.
“No.”
“Not even for husbands and wives?”
A harsh laugh escaped him, surprising him in its vehemence. “I would say rarely with husbands and wives, which is a damned travesty.”
She nodded. “My parents were a love match,” she said after a moment. “I was too young when my mother died to remember much interaction between them, but I’ve been told stories of their great love for each other.” She shifted, turning her head away. “And I was witness to what it does to a person to lose the one he loves.” She pulled away from him and stood, reaching for her dress. As she pulled it efficiently over her head, Geoffrey mourned the loss of her closeness.
He also wondered at her words. Did fear of losing the ones she loved make up the bricks of the wall that surrounded her heart? She’d lost both parents at a young age. That would have to affect a person.
When she’d righted herself, she sat back down, albeit at a respectable distance from him. “Did your parents love each other?”
Geoffrey frowned, wondering at her question. What was going on in that brilliant mind of hers? By the way she looked at him, he was almost afraid to answer, thinking she might draw a conclusion that wouldn’t be in his favor. Still, it was his nature to be honest.
“Hated would be a more appropriate word.” Geoffrey sighed. Since he was going to marry Liliana, she’d find out the whole sordid tale eventually, so it might as well be now. “But he was an earl, and she the daughter of a rich, well-respected family, and they were married. They had nothing in common except, in the end, a complete disrespect for the other.”
Geoffrey closed his eyes, memories assaulting him of his parents’ screaming fights, of slamming doors and hateful words. “I think it made my father sad, though,” he said, remembering the far-off looks his father would sometimes get. “He loved her, in the beginning. Even after he found out what she was truly like—a lying, deceitful, manipulative, cruel woman—he loved her anyway. And that is the real tragedy.”
Liliana’s hand covered his. He opened his eyes and saw not pity in her expression, but compassion, and the tightness around his chest cracked, letting warmth slip in. He brought her hand to his lips, then settled it into his lap, not letting her go.
“But whatever their feelings in the beginning, they disintegrated into nastiness. I was told many a time it was fortunate I took after my father in looks, else he’d have doubted I was his.”
Liliana made a shocked sound. “You mean she took other men to her bed whilst married to your father?”
“I’d imagine she never went to my father’s bed again after I was born,” Geoffrey said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “She’d given him his heir and his spare and then she was done with him. Hated him so much, when he died she removed all vestiges of him, redecorated nearly every room and had all of his things boxed up and moved into one of bedrooms in the family wing, where they still sit, covered in dust.”
Liliana stiffened beside him, her grip growing tight. Geoffrey sighed. He wasn’t painting a very pretty picture of marriage to a Wentworth, was he? “But not all marriages are like that, Liliana,” he said, reaching to take her other hand. “Some are based on respect. Some can be a true partnership, where husband and wife have similar goals and passions and can lift each other to achieve more than they could have alone. Some have…” love. As much as he realized he was coming to covet her love, he couldn’t promise her the same, was unsure whether it would even matter to her, so he left the word unsaid. “…that something special you’re feeling right now.”
The chime of the clock rang out two baleful gongs in the silence.
Liliana pulled her hands away from Geoffrey and stood. “It’s late, and dawn comes early.” She had to leave this very moment, before the maelstrom of guilt and self-abhorrence rising in her chest overwhelmed her and she made a fool of herself. Oh, what had she done? And what was she going to do?
A crease formed between Geoffrey’s brows. Her abrupt change in attitude must have confused him. Liliana tried to school her features.
“You should sleep in tomorrow,” he suggested, watching her closely, “as I can’t ride with you. I’m meeting some of the more recently arrived gentlemen for an early hunt. Some political maneuvering to be done on horseback, it seems.”
She nodded once, hard, and turned for the double doors, looking for escape.
“Don’t go that way.” He walked over to the bookshelf and flipped the hidden latch that she’d searched to find with no luck. “Let me escort you back through the passageway, where no one will see you.”
Liliana moved to the darkened doorway, peering inside. She’d been trying to get into this very door for days, yet now the idea of exploring it sickened her because of how she’d gained access to it.
“Where does it lead?” she asked, her voice dry yet calm to her ears.
“Ultimately to the family bedrooms, but it’s truly a labyrinth, passing nearly every room in the house at some point,” he said. He lit a candle and ushered her inside.
As they passed a closed doorway, he said, “There is my study, for example, which is the only room that doesn’t have its own exterior entrance, though it does open to the library via a hidden door.”
Just as she’d expected. A little farther down, he pointed out more. “And here is the drawing room, the parlor next to it, and the dining room farther still. I have no idea what my ancestors must have been thinking when they had it built. Either they were a devious sort, or they were fond of secret trysts. I’m particularly fond of the trysting theory,” he murmured as his arms snaked around her middle. Liliana stiffened, closing her eyes against the burning sting of tears as his lips brushed the back of her neck, shame scoring her. She was the devious sort in this pairing, and though Geoffrey hadn’t said it in so many words, deceit was the one thing he abhorred. She’d seen it in his face when he’d spoken of his mother, and every word had been a dagger.