for the best. I was in no state to marry, and I was not certain I would ever be.”
Will grasped his cane and leaned on it gingerly to stand. Talk of the past, of Emilia’s rejection, sent a shooting pain down his leg. Standing seemed to ease it, but he missed the warmth of Ada’s body next to his.
Two strides brought him to the fireplace where a few logs still flickered, but the heat offered none of the satisfaction the woman behind him could provide with a single touch.
“She seemed quite affected by the sight of you.” Ada’s spoke quietly, as if the words were difficult to utter.
Emilia’s reaction had shocked him. Seeing her taught him how much he had forgotten about her, as if he was gazing on a stranger, not the woman he had known at all. Though graceful and elegant, nothing about her had stirred him, except to inspire a desire to escape. Her touch had repulsed him, and he had wanted nothing more than to push her hand away.
“Were you?”
Will feared he had missed something Ada had said. He turned to look at her, still sitting primly, her hands folded in her lap, on the edge of the bed.
“Was I?”
“Were you affected by seeing Emilia again?”
The sight of her had brought back memories of pain and regret, but nothing of whatever tenderness he had once felt toward her. Now, here with Ada, he realized he had never loved Emilia, and despite her emotional display, he suspected she had never loved him either. If she had, her love had been a thin, fragile thing, too delicate for the realities of a man marred by war.
“It roused memories.”
Ada seemed deflated by his answer. She tilted her head down a fraction, abandoning her stiff posture.
Will approached and resumed his place beside her. He could not resist anymore. He reached for her, grateful she did not pull away.
“Unpleasant memories, Ada. No finer feelings. Nothing like desire.”
He swallowed hard. The time had come to risk again.
“Nothing like what is between us.”
The wait between his words and her response seemed to stretch out, giving Will time to sift possibilities.
“What is between us?” Ada spoke the words as a question, and Will had only one answer.
“I love you, Ada. And if you’ll have me—“
ADA PRESSED HER lips to Will’s, cutting off his proposal. She heard the one word that echoed her own feelings, and her heart and soul reverberated with the sentiment. Love—he loved her and she loved him—and nothing more was needed.
Ada kissed him, offering every bit of her heart, her body, all that she was and hoped to be. No more hesitation. No more concern for decorum and propriety.
She slid her hands inside his jacket, unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat, and pushed the fine fabric aside. When she slipped a button on his shirt and slid her fingers underneath to touch his bare chest, he took a sharp breath and broke their kiss.
Will skimmed his lips over her flushed cheek, slid his mouth toward her ear, and began trailing kisses down her neck. His breath was hot on her skin, though the touch of his mouth on her body made Ada shiver.
When Will began working the buttons of her gown, she sighed in relief. Ada yearned to remove every barrier between them, and her clothing was suddenly a heavy, uncomfortable obstruction.
He peeled back her jacket and moved his hands to the frayed ribbon at the neck of her chemise. Much of her clothing was frayed, serviceable but often mended, and most of it well-worn and less than fashionable.
Ada reached up to halt his progress.
“I’m not a duchess.”
She heard him chuckle and saw the flash of his smile.
“For which I am most grateful.” He attempted to pull at the ribbon, but Ada held his hands fast.
“You are?”
“Mmm.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “You see, I am not a duke. If you were bent on being a duchess, where would that leave us?”
Though his tone was teasing, Ada could not shake her concerns, fears that suddenly diluted the pleasure of
Will grasped his cane and leaned on it gingerly to stand. Talk of the past, of Emilia’s rejection, sent a shooting pain down his leg. Standing seemed to ease it, but he missed the warmth of Ada’s body next to his.
Two strides brought him to the fireplace where a few logs still flickered, but the heat offered none of the satisfaction the woman behind him could provide with a single touch.
“She seemed quite affected by the sight of you.” Ada’s spoke quietly, as if the words were difficult to utter.
Emilia’s reaction had shocked him. Seeing her taught him how much he had forgotten about her, as if he was gazing on a stranger, not the woman he had known at all. Though graceful and elegant, nothing about her had stirred him, except to inspire a desire to escape. Her touch had repulsed him, and he had wanted nothing more than to push her hand away.
“Were you?”
Will feared he had missed something Ada had said. He turned to look at her, still sitting primly, her hands folded in her lap, on the edge of the bed.
“Was I?”
“Were you affected by seeing Emilia again?”
The sight of her had brought back memories of pain and regret, but nothing of whatever tenderness he had once felt toward her. Now, here with Ada, he realized he had never loved Emilia, and despite her emotional display, he suspected she had never loved him either. If she had, her love had been a thin, fragile thing, too delicate for the realities of a man marred by war.
“It roused memories.”
Ada seemed deflated by his answer. She tilted her head down a fraction, abandoning her stiff posture.
Will approached and resumed his place beside her. He could not resist anymore. He reached for her, grateful she did not pull away.
“Unpleasant memories, Ada. No finer feelings. Nothing like desire.”
He swallowed hard. The time had come to risk again.
“Nothing like what is between us.”
The wait between his words and her response seemed to stretch out, giving Will time to sift possibilities.
“What is between us?” Ada spoke the words as a question, and Will had only one answer.
“I love you, Ada. And if you’ll have me—“
ADA PRESSED HER lips to Will’s, cutting off his proposal. She heard the one word that echoed her own feelings, and her heart and soul reverberated with the sentiment. Love—he loved her and she loved him—and nothing more was needed.
Ada kissed him, offering every bit of her heart, her body, all that she was and hoped to be. No more hesitation. No more concern for decorum and propriety.
She slid her hands inside his jacket, unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat, and pushed the fine fabric aside. When she slipped a button on his shirt and slid her fingers underneath to touch his bare chest, he took a sharp breath and broke their kiss.
Will skimmed his lips over her flushed cheek, slid his mouth toward her ear, and began trailing kisses down her neck. His breath was hot on her skin, though the touch of his mouth on her body made Ada shiver.
When Will began working the buttons of her gown, she sighed in relief. Ada yearned to remove every barrier between them, and her clothing was suddenly a heavy, uncomfortable obstruction.
He peeled back her jacket and moved his hands to the frayed ribbon at the neck of her chemise. Much of her clothing was frayed, serviceable but often mended, and most of it well-worn and less than fashionable.
Ada reached up to halt his progress.
“I’m not a duchess.”
She heard him chuckle and saw the flash of his smile.
“For which I am most grateful.” He attempted to pull at the ribbon, but Ada held his hands fast.
“You are?”
“Mmm.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “You see, I am not a duke. If you were bent on being a duchess, where would that leave us?”
Though his tone was teasing, Ada could not shake her concerns, fears that suddenly diluted the pleasure of
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