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It created in him too large of a feeling, and he did not wish it to exist in him.
They had found plenty of pleasure with each other. They had found plenty of pleasure last night.
She turned and looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face.
‘Good morning, Your Grace.’
He could not help himself. And it was not often that he could not help himself. So... He simply gave in. And he kissed her. On those soft, luscious lips. Her cheeks turned pink, and she smiled. ‘It was not a dream.’
‘No,’ he said. His chest went tight. That she could find what had passed between them to be like a dream, rather than the waking nightmare his first wife had found it...
‘I was afraid that I would wake up and I would be alone. And I would still be Beatrice.’
He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The same Beatrice. The Beatrice I always am. The Beatrice who is always alone, and certainly has never been touched so by a man.’ She looked up at him. ‘You make me feel... Incredible.’
And his stomach went tense, only because he understood.
It was why he was not Philip.
It was why he was Briggs.
So he did not have to feel the same.
Her lips curved into a smile and his thoughts stopped.
He could only stare at her, marvel at the fact that she fit with him in a way he could never have quite imagined. Had it been before him all this time?
‘You astonish me,’ he said. ‘Innocence should not take to these acts with such fervour.’
‘Do I offend you with my fervour?’
She looked upset, and he did not want her upset. He resisted giving her yet more honesty, but she had been accepting of him so far. And he would hate to cause her distress simply because he was unwilling to speak of the past.
‘To the contrary. I find you exceptionally pleasing. It has just not been my experience.’
‘Oh,’ she said, looking away. ‘Your wife.’
‘I’m sorry. If it upsets you for me to speak of her...’
‘I believe I said that to you last time she was mentioned. It does not upset me.’
‘Are you jealous, Beatrice?’ Beatrice’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she looked away from him. He frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘She gave you things I cannot. She gave you a child and she...’
‘You give me things that she would not,’ he said. ‘And that to me means more.’
She seemed pleased by that. And he was glad that he had found some way to ease her concerns. He did not want her to be concerned. He wished for her to feel utterly and completely safe and cared for. He wished for her to feel completely satisfied in the aftermath of all they had shared.
‘We will go out today.’
‘Did you have obligations?’
‘Likely,’ he said. ‘But I am here in London with you and with William, and we should go again. To the park.’
‘I would like that,’ she said.
