The first thing he would do when he returned was bring her something to eat. Second would be to buy her a new dress. Then he would get her a proper bed, and a proper ring, and do the honorable thing. For now, they would both have to make do.
When his hand passed her waist, her thighs drifted open. As he darted his fingertips between her legs, her blank eyes went wide. Brody watched her fight the instinct of self-preservation telling her to protect her virtue. He half expected her to stop him. Yet, she did not.
Instead, she grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly against her. He began to circle his fingers. Around and around, in a slow, steady rhythm. Angelica rolled her hips and arched her back, all the while clinging to his shoulder. Even through her skirts, Brody felt the heat radiating off her body. She burned with a need that he prayed was only for him. He wanted to be the only man to give her pleasure. To feel her hips buck, and watch those heavenly blue eyes roll back in her head. To be the one name that she called as she came.
“Wait for me, Angelica,” he whispered in her ear. “Promise that you’ll wait for me.”
Brody pushed his fingertips against her one final time, anchoring her to the pallet as her orgasm broke. She gasped, and then shuddered, before finally crying out, “I’ll wait.”
***
The cold, blue light of dawn crept through the narrow kitchen windows. Brody held Angelica in his arms, kissing her and petting her as if she were his own, treasured sweetheart. She’d slept a little after their exchange, but mostly, she’d asked questions. He’d done his best to educate her, blushing, laughing, and stammering his way through a lesson in female anatomy.
He liked that she was ignorant. He loved that, aside from the pleasure he’d given her, she was pure. His only regret came when he’d confessed how he knew about ladies’ bodies. Angelica had not shunned him. She had only listened as he told her about his girl back at university, of the French brothels during the war, and the desperate, opium-addicted women he eventually came to know.
Brody could have lied to her, but she needed to hear the truth. His past was not a dead thing he could bury. It lived within him, threatening to rear its ugly head at any moment. When that dreaded moment came, he did not want Angelica to be surprised. If she was going to help him survive it, she must know every last thing about him.
When he finally finished his sorry tale, she raised her lips to kiss him. “Thank you.”
He tried to smile. “For which part?”
“Oh, all of it. I feel like a new woman. My eyes have been opened—figuratively—and I owe it all to you.”
Brody threaded his fingertips through her inky, black hair. He’d known her for eight or nine hours, yet he could not bear the thought of leaving her. He would miss her soft hair, her husky laugh, and those haunting sea glass eyes that seemed to see only his soul. “I’m glad we found each other.”
“That sounds an awful lot like good-bye.”
“Hold on a little longer, Angelica,” he said. “I have some things to sort out. Besides…you promised to wait for me.” He grinned down at her. Brody knew she couldn’t see his smile, but she could hear it in his words, and feel it in his racing heartbeat.
Angelica covered her cheeks with her hands, blushing. “I did, didn’t I?”
Such a sweet, innocent girl. He’d been living in rot and sin for so long that he’d almost forgot good people like her still existed. Her maidenly modesty thrilled him more than any skilled woman’s touch. “Give me a few days—a fortnight, at most. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Together, they stood. Brody wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her dark head. Angelica slid her arms around his waist, holding him close. He loved her now—he felt certain of it. And, if she did not love him yet, Brody knew she would, in time. He planned to spend the rest of his life earning that love.
He kissed her one last time. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
“Yes, wait right there.” Angelica went to the cupboard and fished around in one of the drawers. After a moment, she returned, pressing a long, tarnished key into his palm. “For the gate.”
Brody stared at it like a love-struck fool. It was just an ordinary key to an ordinary lock on an ordinary gate. But, to him, she might as well have presented him the key to her heart. She had certainly given the key to her freedom, and proved that she was not going anywhere without him.
“Th—thank you, Angelica,” he stuttered. Suddenly, his tongue was all a tangle.
She lay her head against his hammering heart. Then, she backed away, breaking their connection. “Go now.”
He did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN