Hero
The clock on the table beside the bed read three-fifteen. Hero looked at it from his post near the window. He had undressed but he had not yet bothered to climb beneath the quilts. There was no point. It was not sleeping he needed.
He needed Josephine.
The house seemed to slumber around him. The servants had long since gone to bed. If past behaviour was a reliable guide, Felix would not bring Anne home until dawn.
He wondered if Josephine was finding sleep as elusive as he was finding it.
He looked out the window into the night drenched garden and thought about how Josephine would look curled up in bed. Then he reminded himself yet again that a gentleman must not knock on a lady's bed-chamber door unless he had been invited to do so.
Josephine had not issued any invitations when he had said good night to her a short time ago. In point of fact, she had instructed him quite succinctly to get some sleep.
He was not in a mood to follow those orders.
He contemplated the darkness for a while longer. It would be irresponsible to go to Josephine's room. True, they had got away with that episode in the library, but he had no right to put her into such a potentially embarrassing situation again.
The risks were many and varied. Anne and Felix could easily come home early, and Anne might discover that he was in the wrong bedchamber. Or one of the servants might hear the creak of the floorboards and, fearing burglars, come upstairs to investigate.
But he knew, deep down, it was not the risk of discovery that was holding him back. It was the possibility that all Josephine wanted or needed from him was a short-lived passion.
He thought about her dreams of financial and personal independence. For a brief, heady moment he pictured what it would be like to cast off the shackles of his responsibilities to the Tiffin family and run away with Josephine.
The fantasy of living a gloriously free life with her in some far-off clime, well beyond the reach of his relatives and the demands of those who depended upon him, shimmered in front of his eyes, an effervescent reflection on the windowpane.
The image quickly vanished. He had commitments. He would keep them.
But tonight Josephine was only just down the hall.
He tightened the sash of his black silk dressing gown and turned away from the window. Picking up the candle, he crossed the room, opened the door and let himself out into the corridor.
He stood listening for a few seconds. There was no sound of a carriage out in the street, no noise from downstairs.
He went along the hall and stopped in front of Josephine's bedchamber. No light shone beneath the door. He told himself he should take that as a sign that, unlike him, she had been able to go to sleep.
But what if she was lying there in the darkness, wide awake? It would not hurt to tap lightly on the door. If she was sound asleep, she would not notice the small noise.
He rapped, not quite as softly as he had intended. But, then, what would have been the point of a soundless little tap?
For a moment he heard nothing. Then he caught the unmistakable squeak of the bed frame followed by muffled footsteps.
The door opened. Josephine looked out at him with eyes that appeared fathomless in the glow of the candle. Her light hair was pinned up under a lacy little cap. She wore a plain dressing gown patterned with small flowers.
"Is something wrong?" she whispered.
"Invite me inside."
Her brows knit together. "Why?"
"Because, as a gentleman, I cannot enter your bedchamber without an invitation."
"Oh."
He held his breath, wondering what she would do.
Her mouth curved in a slow, sensual smile. She stood back and held the door wide. "Please, come in."
Desire so powerful that it threatened to consume every other sensation thundered through his veins. He was already hard, fiercely aroused. He was desperate for her.
It took all the control he possessed not to seize her and carry her straight to the bed. He forced himself to move silently into the room and set the candle down on the nearest table.
She closed the door noiselessly and turned to face him.
"Hero, I-"
"Hush. No one must hear us talking together in here."
He took her into his arms and kissed her before she could speak another word.
Her arms went around him very tightly. He felt her nails sink into his back through the silk of his dressing gown. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing him inside.
He would control himself, he vowed. This time he would make the experience one that would ensure that she never forgot him.
He slid his palms down her spine, savouring the elegant curve. When his fingers closed over her hips, the feel of her firm, round buttocks under his hands almost sent him over the edge. He squeezed gently and urged her snugly against his rigid staff.
Another delicious little shiver went through her. She made a tiny, breathless sound and clung to him.
He moved his hands around her waist and undid the knot in the sash that held her wrapper together. The garment parted to reveal a simple white lawn nightgown trimmed at the throat with lace and blue ribbons. He could see the soft swell of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples pressing against the delicate fabric.
He kissed her throat and then caught her dainty, delicate earlobe between his teeth. She responded with more shivers and a choked gasp of pleasure. Her reaction thrilled him and stirred him in a way that no drug could ever match.
One by one he removed the pins that secured her little cap. When the last one came free, her hair tumbled over his hands. He made a fist in the sweet, scented tresses and used it to anchor her head for more kisses.
She pushed her hand beneath the lapel of his dressing gown and flattened her palm across his bare chest. The heat of her fingers was so intense that it was all he could do to swallow his groan of raw need.
He looked down into her face. There was enough light from the candle to show him that her expression was drenched in wonder and passion. She parted her lips, and he knew that she had already sunk so far into the realm of sensation that she had forgotten the need for silence.
Hastily, he covered her open mouth with his hand and shook his head, smiling slightly. Rueful comprehension gleamed in her eyes. A teasing, provocative light quickly followed. Very gently, very deliberately, she bit the palm of his hand.
He almost laughed aloud. Half-drunk with the knowledge of what was yet to come, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
He tumbled her down onto the rumpled sheets and stripped off his dressing gown and slippers. He was entirely naked now, as he had not put on a nightshirt earlier when he had prepared for bed. He suddenly realized that this was the first time Josephine had seen him in a state of complete undress.
He looked down at her, wondering if she would find him pleasant to look upon or if the sight of his uncovered, fully aroused body would make her uneasy.
But when he saw her expression, his tension disappeared. A radiant fascination gleamed in her eyes, making him smile. When she reached out to encircle him with her fingers, it was all he could do to contain himself.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto the bed. For a few minutes, he relished the hot pleasure of being touched intimately by Josephine. But after a moment or two of exquisite torture, he was forced to catch and trap her exploring hands. If he did not stop her, he thought, he would not be able to finish this as he intended.
He pushed her gently onto her back, bent over her and slid his palm along her bare thigh. The bottom edge of her nightgown caught on his wrist and was carried upward with the movement of his hand.
He did not stop until he could see the triangle of dark hair that veiled her secrets.
He leaned down and kissed her soft, beautifully round knee. She brushed her fingers across the back of his neck. After a moment he gently separated her legs and touched his tongue to the inside of one silken thigh. This time her fingers tightened in his hair.
"Hero?"
Reaching up with one hand, he covered her lips with his palm, reminding her of the need for silence.
When he felt her subside, he returned to his task.
He settled himself between her legs and inhaled the exquisitely feminine scent he discovered there. She smelled of the sea and spices too rare to be named. He could live the rest of his life on that drugging fragrance, he thought. Raising her knees on either side of his head, he found the small, sensitive bud and began to work it with his fingers.
She stiffened immediately, as though not quite certain how to respond. But her body knew precisely what to do. In a very short time, she was so wet that his hands glistened in the candlelight.
She began to breathe more quickly. Her hips shifted, lifting against him. When he eased a finger into her she clenched around him and gasped.
He lowered his head and kissed the very heart of her desire, simultaneously sliding another finger into her and probing gently.
"Hero," she gasped in a muffled whisper. She struggled to rise to a sitting position. "What are you doing?"
He did not raise his head, but he used one hand to push her gently but firmly back down onto the bed.
At first, he thought she would resist. But gradually she moaned and fell back. He could hear her quick little breaths. He knew that she was in the grip of a force she did not fully comprehend.
"Oh, my, oh, my, ooooh, my goodness."
So much for her vow of silence, he thought, amused but also a little worried. He could not stop now, though. She was too close and he was determined to finish this properly.
He sensed her impending climax before she did. Her hands twisted in the sheets. Her entire body tensed.
She was lost, he thought. She no longer had any notion of what was going on around her.
At that moment he heard the unmistakable sound of the door in the front hall opening. He caught the distant, muffled murmur of voices downstairs.
Anne and Felix were home.
Josephine's release burst upon her like a storm. He raised his head quickly and saw her lips part. Her eyes were squeezed shut.
Disaster loomed.
He moved, propelling himself forward until he covered her body with his own. He caught her head between his hands and clamped his mouth over hers, swallowing the high, desperate shriek of astonished pleasure.
A moment later she softened beneath him. Cautiously he raised his head, freeing her mouth. He put a fingertip to her lips and spoke directly into her ear. She looked up at him with dazed, uncomprehending eyes.
"Anne and Felix are here," he whispered.
Downstairs, the door closed. Anne's footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Hero did not move so much as a muscle. Beneath him, Josephine was just as perfectly still. They both listened intently.
Anne's steps grew louder as she started down the hall toward her bedchamber. Hero met Josephine's eyes. As one, they both looked at the candle that still burned on the table.
He knew that they were each wondering the same thing. Would Anne notice the pale slant of light beneath the door?
Anne's footsteps paused at her own bed-chamber and then, just as Hero had begun to believe he and Josephine had been spared, she continued on down the hall.
She was going to knock and she would expect Josephine to answer the door, he thought. He could only hope that Josephine would be able to come up with a convenient excuse for not inviting her into the bedchamber for a late-night chat.
He became aware of the fact that Josephine had both hands planted against his chest and was pushing upward with all her strength. Obediently, he rolled away and got silently to his feet beside the bed.
The inevitable knock sounded on the door of the bedchamber.
"Jo? I noticed the candle. If you're not too exhausted, I have the most exciting news. Felix has asked me to marry him."
"One moment, Anne, while I put on my wrapper and slippers." Josephine bounded out of bed. "Your news is thrilling. I am so happy for you."
She continued talking in bright, enthusiastic tones while she wrenched open the wardrobe door, yanked the billowing skirts of several gowns aside and gestured frantically at Hero.
He realized that she intended for him to hide inside the damned wardrobe. He stifled a groan. She was right. It was the only place of concealment in the bedchamber.
He paused to pick up his dressing gown and slippers and then, with great reluctance, he got into the wardrobe. Josephine promptly closed the door. He was immediately enveloped in fine muslin, scented silks and darkness.
He heard Josephine open the bedchamber door.
"I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?" she said to Anne. "Why don't we go downstairs to the library and sample some of Hero's excellent brandy? I want to hear every detail of Felix's proposal. Also, I have the most astonishing news to tell you, too."
Anne laughed happily, sounding for all the world like a young lady in the throes of her first great love affair. Maybe that was precisely the case, Hero thought.
"Do you think we dare help ourselves to the brandy, though?" Anne asked with a hint of genuine concern. "You know how Hero feels about it. He treats the stuff as though it were a rare golden elixir of the gods."
"Trust me," Josephine said with great depth of feeling. "In this instance Hero will not have the slightest objection to us going downstairs to drink some of his precious brandy."
The door closed behind the two women.
Hero brooded amid the shadows and the feminine skirts for a few minutes, wondering what had become of his orderly, well-planned life. He could not believe that he was hiding in a wardrobe inside a lady's bed-chamber.
Things like this had never happened to him before he had met Josephine.