He didn’t want to take her against the wall or bend her over the bed. He wanted to watch Eleanor as she came, to see pleasure dance in her eyes like sunlight on emerald waters. He wanted to take his time and relish every thrust. He wanted her beneath him in bed.
“Come here, you rapscallion.” He caught her and hauled her over his shoulder—though she did not put up a fight—and delighted in gently biting her bottom.
“You devil.”
He dropped her onto the bed, though seeing her fiery red hair splayed over his coverlet, her breasts heaving as if begging for his mouth, well, it left him rampant.
While she giggled, he tore off his clothes as if the damn things scorched his skin. “Open your legs. Let me see that glistening jewel.”
She panted upon seeing his raging erection. “I thought you didn’t need to make love tonight.”
“I’m happy to admit I was wrong.” She squealed when he grabbed her foot and drew each dainty little toe into his mouth. “I mean to brand every inch of you tonight.”
Her breath came short and fast as he kissed his way up her milky-white thigh. A lengthy moan escaped her when he buried his face between her legs and licked her like there was no tomorrow.
“Oh, Oh, Theo … don’t … yes.”
The brazen woman he would marry bucked against his mouth, shuddering on a keen cry.
He climbed on top of her, his erection an angry-looking thing in need of her love and attention. “Touch me.”
She did his bidding without question, her tentative fingers stroking him back and forth until he thought he might go mad.
“I need you now, Theo.”
He liked the thought of having her in his bed.
He liked the thought of owning her body, even though her mind would always be her own.
He eased into her, his eyes rolling in his head. She was so sweet, so tight, so wet. “You hug me like a glove. I could bury myself inside you and never leave.”
She wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper. “I love you.”
He wasn’t prepared for the power of those words. They hit him in his chest, in a distant place he’d not known existed. “I love you.”
He angled his hips, quickening the pace, sinking into her as the feeling overcame him again—the need for this soul-deep connection to last a lifetime. He wanted more than her friendship, more than her love. He wanted marriage. He wanted everything this woman had to give.
Chapter Nineteen
When arranging a meeting in Hyde Park, one prayed for dry weather. The gods were on their side today, a day that defied the season. Sunlight danced through scattered clouds, and the gentle breeze carried the warmth of summer.
Eleanor turned her face to the sky, soaking in the sweet September rays. It was as if the heavens knew she was deeply in love and wanted to celebrate. For the first time in her life, she felt complete and utter bliss.
Treachery was afoot, though she couldn’t help but smile as Theo walked beside her, a strong presence in every aspect of her life. She held his arm—touching him an irresistible compulsion.
She should have known fate would test their resolve.
When they reached the silversmith shop, the door was locked, the shutters closed. A heaviness hung in the air, a strange undercurrent of something sinister.
“I have never known Mr Franklin close the shop on a weekday.” Eleanor swallowed past her growing apprehension. “Not in all the years I’ve lived here.”
Theo hammered the door with his clenched fist. “Perhaps he’s ill.”
“Anna is competent enough to deal with the orders.”
Eleanor stepped back off the pavement and glanced at the upper windows. She could have sworn she saw a curtain twitch.
Moments later, Mr Franklin appeared at the door, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw, his crumpled shirt untucked from his trousers. “Miss Darrow.” Her name left his lips with a gasp of surprise as he attempted to smooth his unkempt hair. “Thank heavens you’re well.”
“Is something wrong, sir?”
He looked dreadful. Like he had not slept in weeks.
“Did you not hear the terrible commotion last night? We caught two men breaking into the shop—foreign men, French, I think.” He stepped aside to show the floor littered with candlesticks and cutlery and serving platters, the doors on the cabinets smashed, the glass a spiderweb of cracks.
“Good Lord.” Eleanor knew how it felt to see one’s work tossed aside like yesterday’s rubbish. “Did they steal anything?”
Mr Franklin hung his head. “Enough to fill a sack. The fiends had the gall to leave by the front door.”
“Speak to Gibbs,” Theo said. “He may have witnessed them fleeing and can provide a description.”
Mr Franklin nodded as though grateful for the advice, but then he put his hand to his eyes and sobbed.
Eleanor stepped forward and touched his upper arm. “It feels like a punch to the gut when someone treats your work with disrespect. But it will pass.” That said, Mr Franklin didn’t have a knight in shining armour fighting to make his troubles disappear.
“It’s not that,” he sniffed, almost embarrassed to look at her. “It’s Anna. She heard a noise and was first downstairs. She must have presumed I was working late and had knocked something over.”
