A rush of longing made Ivy shift restlessly from one leg to the other. What Sam suggested was so improper. So wicked.
So tempting.
She should run. A proper lady would run. But a proper lady never would have entered a man's room unaccompanied in the first place, so she wasn't so sure she could claim that title. She certainly didn't feel like a proper lady right then. Nor did she want to be one. She wanted to experience whatever Sam offered.
The flickering flames of the candles painted Sam's hair with fire as he watched her quietly, waiting to see how she'd react to his request. Something dark and dangerous burned in his eyes and it was mesmerising, pulling her towards him. It didn't matter that he was leaving. Didn't matter that she was finally going to London for a season. Tonight was theirs.
After another moment of contemplating the wisdom of her choice—or lack thereof—she slid her arms around Sam's shoulders and moved onto his lap. His firm hands helped her pull the skirt of her dress up far enough that she could straddle him. The feeling of his powerful thighs between her legs sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
Sam breathed in slowly, his lips slightly parted as his eyes devoured her. The intense scrutiny made her cheeks burn, and she shimmied a little, making him groan as she moved against him.
"You're staring," she whispered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"How could I not?" He smiled slightly. "I have a beautiful woman on my lap."
His fingers buried in the hair at the back of her head, and a moment later his mouth was on hers, hot and hungry. Heat unfurled inside her as he kissed her with a passion matching her own. Something was different tonight, compared to their earlier kisses, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. His movements were slower, more deliberate. As if he wanted to savour every moment they had together. She didn't mind, because so did she.
Too engrossed in the excitement of his slow, drugging kisses, she didn't realise he had undone the buttons at the back of her dress until it slid down her arms. His touch chased goosebumps across her skin above the stays until he untied them enough to trail light fingers down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat as he reached the top of her bottom before following the same path back.
Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss below her ear, sending tingles of awareness throughout her entire body. The feeling intensified when he palmed her breast behind the loose fabric of her dress and stays. It surprised her to discover quite how sensitive she was. When he grazed her nipple with the pad of his thumb, she couldn't hold back a moan.
"It's amazing how well you respond when I touch you," he mumbled against her skin. "I could watch you for hours."
She didn't mind in the least. She loved his touch, but she was too enraptured by the sensations he aroused to answer. But when he pushed her dress and stays down to her waist, releasing her arms and chest from their constraints, she had to fight the immediate urge to cover herself. She'd always worried her bosom was too ample, just as her hips were too wide, but the way Sam's eyes darkened as he took her in made her feel confident in a way she never had before.
When he didn't speak or act for several seconds, she shifted in his lap while her cheeks burned hot.
"Ivy," he breathed. "You're beautiful."
Impossibly, her cheeks burned even hotter at the compliment. It seemed rather unfair that she was this undressed while he still wore most of his clothing. But before she could raise the issue of this injustice, Sam bent his head and licked at her nipple. Shock and excitement coursed through her. She had not even realised this was something that was done. Sam captured her nipple between his lips and sucked, licked, and nibbled until she writhed in his arms with the need to feel him closer. Every lick and nip sent another jolt through her body, converging between her legs.
Her body was hot and feverish. Desperate for more. She couldn't stay still, shifting restlessly against him. Sam continued to lavish attention on her breasts while one of his hands travelled up her stockinged leg. Once he reached the bare skin above the cloth, they both froze. This was another step beyond what they had ever done before. Propriety had left a long time ago, but somehow it felt as if they were about to cross an invisible line. One they could never uncross.
Sam leaned back to meet her gaze. His hazel eyes were dark and hooded, making him look extra wicked in the flickering candlelight. Her nipples, damp from his attention, puckered to tight beads in the evening air flowing in from an open window. Warm heat pooled between her thighs, making her move against him, chasing a release he had not yet offered her.
The way his fingers traced a light pattern on the sensitive skin of her thighs made it difficult to think about much else. He was so close, and yet so far away, from where she craved his touch. She shimmied her bottom again and was rewarded by the pressure of his hardness against her through the fabric of his trousers. He let out a strained groan.
"You are far too tempting," he breathed. "I wish I could do all the wicked things I've been dreaming of with you, but..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head slightly.
"Let's not dwell on what we can and cannot do right now." She didn't want to think about the future. About her season in London or Sam leaving her. She wanted to focus on the feel of him against her. The scent of his soap. The cadence of his breath. "Let's enjoy tonight, and then we will see what tomorrow brings."
A shadow crossed over his face—they both knew what lay ahead—but he nodded. She bent forward to press her mouth against his, and he immediately reciprocated the kiss, fanning the flames between them. Placing his hands on her hips, he slid her backwards on his legs, spreading her legs wider. She pulled away, her mouth agape. With the skirt of her dress pulled up to the top of her thighs, and her bodice and stays pooling around her waist, she was as indecent as she had ever been in front of a man. In front of anyone.
Sam's hands ran up her thighs, pushing the skirt even higher, revealing her to him. Warmth filled her cheeks, but she didn't try to push the fabric back down or move on his legs. Instead, she waited to see what he would do next. He lifted his left hand to bury it in the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her down for a fierce kiss that sent another surge of heat to the apex of her desire.
When his other hand slipped between her thighs, she inhaled sharply. No one had ever touched her there. Every part of her focused on the sensations his fingers evoked. She gripped his shoulders harder as he slipped a finger into her heated core, thrusting gently as he drew pleasure from her body. His thumb rubbed against her most sensitive part, and she whimpered with the need for release.
She wanted to writhe, to push closer to him, but his powerful legs between hers kept her where she was. He continued stroking and caressing her, each motion bringing her closer and closer to completion. Every movement of his fingers pushed her further towards that threshold, while his mouth devoured hers in hungry kisses.
Nothing existed outside of this moment. No season in London. No surprise set of parents. Only Sam and the wonderful pleasure he coaxed from her body.
Abandoning her mouth, he captured a nipple in his mouth and sucked, sending a sharp jolt of desire through her. She threw her head back with a loud moan as her body tensed before finally hurtling over the edge in a flash of bright light.
As she came down from the high, Sam pulled her close and circled her with his arms. He gently caressed her back as she rested her head against his shoulder while catching her breath. Her body felt warm and languid, and she could easily have fallen asleep right there in his embrace.
"That was glorious," Sam mumbled against her hair. "I've dreamed of seeing you like this, but nothing could live up to reality."
Still on his lap, she smiled shyly as she sat back up. Now that she was no longer distracted by his hands on her, she was suddenly a little shy about her lack of clothing. Sam had only removed his shoes and jacket and was still wearing his shirt, waistcoat, and trousers.
"Is..." Her cheeks heated, but she pushed on. "Is this it?"
Sam chuckled darkly. "You asked the same when I first kissed you." His gaze lowered to her unbound chest, and his eyes darkened. "Trust me, I would love to continue... But I think it is best if we don't."
Emboldened by the desire in his eyes, she lifted her hands to run them over her breasts, enticed to hear Sam's breathing hitch.
"Are you certain?" she teased, unsure where this brazenness came from.
"No." He groaned. His hands replaced hers for a moment, caressing her softly, before he groaned again and dropped them to her waist. "God, Ivy... Please don't tempt me. I've already taken this too far tonight."
Leaning forward, she nipped at his ear, and his hands at her waist flexed. "What if I want to go further?" she whispered, and she could feel him tense underneath her.
"I..." He gently pushed her away. "We can't. As much as we want to, it would be foolish to risk there being any consequences. And I would never want to put a child into the world to live through what I did. No one should have to grow up a bastard."
Suddenly feeling cold, Ivy pulled her stays and bodice back up. She understood Sam's reservations. She did. But it was also a stark reminder that he had no intention of marrying her. Not that he had ever said as much, even if he had hinted at his interest before he left for London. Unable to button her dress, she had to leave it sagging across her chest when she slid off his lap.
"Ivy." He caught her hand before she could step out of his reach. "Please."
"It's fine. I understand. Your position is quite clear." She pulled on her arm, but Sam wouldn't let go.
"No. I don't think you do," he said. "I want you. Desperately. But the circumstances... It's simply not possible."
The circumstances. She stared down at their joined hands. As much as she understood what he meant when he said she was now too far above him, she couldn't help but feel that it was only an issue if one made it into an issue. If one was in love, surely that mattered more than social status?
As if he knew what she was thinking, Sam said, "You've grown up as a gentleman's daughter. They have taught you how to run a household, to be the lady of the house. Not to work in one. And I could never ask that of you. No one would allow you to bring Darcy. It's not a life you want."
Deflated, she nodded. He was right. The idea of working didn't sound so bad, but the reality of it was that she had never worked a day in her life, and abandoning Darcy was unthinkable. But never seeing Sam again was also not something she wanted to contemplate.
"I will go to London," she said quietly. "But if I don't meet someone there... I hope you may come to see me again here in Tilbury. I'm not sure what sort of dowry I have, but it might be enough to—"
"Let's see you in London for your season first," Sam cut her off with a gentle smile. "You may fall madly in love with a gentleman."
She scoffed. "I doubt any gentleman will want a country duckling like myself."
A surprised chuckle escaped Sam. "A country duckling?"
"Is that not what you say?"
"I believe it is a country bumpkin."
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Practically the same thing."
The smile on Sam's face warmed her. "Ivy, never forget how wonderful you are."
"Stop making me blush." She pulled on her hand again, but he still wouldn't let go.
"No," he said, sounding serious. "You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I l... I adore your spirit and your energy. How quick you are to smile. Your sense of humour."
She made a wry face. "Then come to see me after my season."
"We shall see." He turned her hand over and placed a kiss on her palm.
When Sam released her, she fisted her hand as if to keep the kiss there forever. Fearing she might cry if she dragged it out any longer, she gave him a quick kiss before slipping out through the door. Her friend Alice had shown her which room was Sam's, but she knew her way out of Wilborne Hall and didn't need to find her friend to leave.
Making sure no one saw her, she followed the winding halls of the old manor house until she made it out to the gardens. The row of windows belonging to the upstairs bedrooms were open, and she wondered if one of them was Sam's. She also wondered if he would come for her if she didn't find someone in London. She rather hoped he would. He seemed to care for her, and if she didn't marry some dandy after her season—which seemed rather unlikely in her view—she hoped he wouldn't think their difference in status mattered enough to not return.
The sound of muffled voices caught her attention, and she realised someone was standing just inside the open window above her. She was walking close to the walls of the house to make it less likely someone could see her, and the sound carried through the window. A moment later, she recognised the voices of Lord and Lady Wycliffe. Her parents. It still felt odd to think of them as such. She had known her mother and father her whole life... Only they were not. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to knowing this about herself.
She wasn't intending to eavesdrop, but one sentence made her halt her steps.
"What did you mean when you told Mr Edwards that you settled the matter of Mr Hemsworth and Ivy?" Lady Wycliffe's voice said. She must be standing close to the window, as Ivy could hear her so clearly.
There was a reply from Lord Wycliffe, but he was too far into the room, leaving his voice too muffled to hear clearly. A moment later, he appeared at the window, blowing out a puff of smoke from a cheroot.
"That's appalling," Lady Wycliffe said behind him. "I cannot believe you paid Mr Hemsworth to leave Ivy."
Ivy clasped her hands over her mouth to stop the gasp from escaping her. What?
"I did what I had to." Lord Wycliffe dropped the cheroot out the window, and it landed next to Ivy's feet on the gravel path close to the house. "They were obviously growing close. She has only just entered our lives. It is far too soon for her to marry. Especially a man so beneath her in life. I offered him a handsome reward for leaving now, before it's too late."
"Oh, Wycliffe," his wife said, her tone dismayed. "You shouldn't have. Ivy seems to like him."
"This is why I did not tell you sooner. I knew your soft heart would not allow you to do what was needed." Lord Wycliffe stepped further into the room, taking his wife with him, and soon their voices were too muffled for Ivy to hear more.
Her heart felt as if someone had stabbed it with a knife. They had paid Sam to leave? No wonder he was so happy to see her off to London! Even if he felt something for her—she did not believe he had fully lied about that—he obviously did not care enough to choose her over money.
Damn him. She drew a shuddering breath, trying to fight the burning feeling behind her eyes. She would not cry. He did not deserve it. Forcing herself to be angry rather than hurt, she stomped home to Orchard Cottage. Once there, she hid in the room she shared with Lily—who thankfully was already asleep—where she penned a quick note to Sam. Before going to sleep, she had a servant deliver it to Wilborne Hall to ensure Sam received it before leaving in the morning.
'Don't bother returning to Tilbury. You were right. We can never be equals.'
She knew he would misunderstand her words and think she meant in social status, but really she meant she would never be as callous as he had just proved himself to be. She would never choose money over someone she cared for. So they were far from equals.
She had a heart.
And he had broken it.
~~~~~~