He’d refused to tell her more about where he was taking her, but she guessed when she saw the house. A large Palladian mansion in pale brown and grey stone with both double-and single-story wings, it sat peacefully in the moonlight, perfectly proportioned, comfortable, and settled within its park.
Tony drew the horses to a halt in the wide gravel forecourt. He leapt down, scanned the house with fond satisfaction, then turned and held out his hand. “Welcome to Torrington Chase.”
The next hour went in pleasurable chaos. Servants tumbled from their beds and came rushing, their eagerness a comment on how they viewed their master. Tony flung orders this way and that; in the midst of the flurry, a calm, feminine voice was heard inquiring what her son was up to now.
In the drawing room, Tony exchanged a glance with Geoffrey, then looked at Alicia. Briefly, he lifted her hand to his lips. “Don’t panic.”
Releasing her, he went out; a moment later, he reappeared with his mother on his arm.
There could never be any doubt of the relationship; the viscountess’s dark, dramatic, rather bold beauty was the feminine version of Tony’s. Before Alicia could do more than assimilate that, she was enveloped in a warm embrace, then the viscountess—“You will call me Marie, if you please”—was asking questions, meeting the boys, exclaiming over Adriana, all with an understanding that made it clear she was excellently well served by correspondents in London.
Hot milk arrived for the three flagging boys, then they were bundled upstairs to bed. Maggs said he’d stay with them; he lumbered off. The housekeeper—Alicia felt sure the woman must be Mrs. Swithins’s sister—came to say that chambers had been prepared for Alicia, Adriana, and Mr. Geoffrey, and that, as usual, the master’s apartments lay ready and waiting.
With a recommendation that they all get some sleep, saying she would speak with them all in the morning, the viscountess graciously retired.
Tony asked Mrs. Larkins, the housekeeper, to show Adriana and Geoffrey their rooms. Taking Alicia’s hand, he led her up the stairs in their wake, but then turned down another corridor off the main gallery.
He opened a door at the end of the wing and drew her into a large room. It was a private sitting room overlooking the gardens; she got barely a glimpse as he led her through a doorway into a large bedchamber.
She glanced around, taking in the heavy dark blue hangings, the richly carved mahogany furniture, none of it delicate. Her gaze stopped on the huge four-poster bed.
Tony drew her into his arms; she met his gaze. “This is your room.”
His eyes held hers for an instant, then he murmured, “I know.” He bent his head. “Tonight, very definitely, this is where you belong.”
The first brush of his lips, the first touch of his hands as they spread and held her, then moved over her back and pulled her against him, verified the statement, told her how true it was—how very much he needed her.
The raw hunger in his kiss, the undisguised passion, the raging desire that fueled it, spoke eloquently of all he—and she, too—had feared, all they’d known they’d had at risk. Now the threat was behind them, conquered, vanquished, and in the aftermath, in the clear light of their victory, nothing was more apparent than the wonder and rightness of their dreams.
Their strength, their vulnerability—both sprang from the same source. The same overwhelming emotion that laid waste to all barriers and left them burning with one urgent and compulsive need.
Neither questioned it.
They shed clothes in the moonlight, let their inhibitions fall with them to the floor. He lifted her and they came together in a frenzy of need, of lust, of greedy passion, of molten, exultant desire. His need was hers; hers was his. They fed and gave succor, took, yielded, and let the raging tide swell.
Wrapped together, incandescent with glory, they gave themselves up to it, surrendered anew. She gave him all and he returned the pleasure, again and again, over and over until ecstasy built, rose and engulfed them. Caught them, trapped them in its golden fire.
They burned, clung, gasping
as they reached the peak and soared, and the flames fell away.
Leaving them somewhere beyond the stars, far beyond the physical world.
Locked together, merged, as one they breathed, and felt, and knew. The moment stretched; full and deep, awareness touched them. Their gazes locked. A moment of heartbreaking stillness held them.
Passion, desire, and love. The smallest word held the greatest power.
This—all of this—was theirs. If they wanted. If they wished.
They both breathed in. The shimmering net released and fell away; the physical world returned and claimed them. With soft murmurs, soothing kisses, and caresses, they sank onto his bed.
Tomorrow, Alicia promised herself as, wrapped in his arms, she drifted into sleep.
He woke her the next morning, fully dressed, to explain that he’d sent a messenger to London last night, and now had to take Sir Freddie back to the capital.
Watching her as she blinked, valiantly trying to reassemble her wits, he grimaced. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Stay here with the boys. I suspect Geoffrey will want to take Adriana to meet his mother.”
He leaned close and kissed her, then rose and strode out.