The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London Book 4) by Adele Clee

Author:Adele Clee [Clee, Adele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Estelle closed her eyes and relished the closeness of Ross’ body. They sat touching foreheads until their breathing settled. Never had she felt so sated, so blissfully happy. During the moment of intense pleasure, she had almost professed her love, but she knew that her eagerness stemmed from her heightened senses.

Ross sighed contentedly, and his breath breezed over her cheek. At some point, she would have to move. But in the intimacy of the moment, the rest of the world no longer existed. Like this, it was easy to forget they had spent any time apart.

Estelle raised her head and kissed him once on the lips. Oh, his taste was so addictive. “I should straighten my clothes before we reach Whitecombe Street, though I have no idea where we are.”

During the wildly passionate encounter, she had been so lost in loving Ross she hadn’t considered that they were rattling along in his carriage.

A sinful smile touched his lips. “We were to stop in Whitechapel.” He looked so calm, so sated, not at all like the devil who stormed into Mr Erstwhile’s shop to demand answers.

She climbed off Ross’ muscular thighs and fell into the seat opposite. Embarrassment pushed to the fore, replaced by a flutter of desire when she watched him tuck his impressive manhood back into his breeches and fasten the buttons.

Ross shuffled forward and raised the blind nearest to her. He studied the passing houses for a moment.

“It seems Wickett has run his errand and we are on our way home.”

Estelle heard him speak, but her mind was engaged in an internal conversation. After surrendering to her craving for this man, her body felt different. A little sore and tender in places, and blissfully in tune with the universe. But this state of euphoria would fade. And then she would have to face the stark reality that she loved a man she could never have. The intense longing would never leave her and would only be compounded now, having sampled the true magnificence of this man.

Despite his comment to the contrary, Ross would marry eventually. They were both intelligent enough to know that any children born from their alliance would always bear the mark of her shame. And Ross could not beat every member of the ton into submission.

Estelle brushed her skirt and tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears.

Silence ensued.

Ross’ intense gaze settled on her face. “What are we to do now?” he said in a rich drawl.

“Do?” Her pulse rose a notch. “Why must we do anything?”

“Then allow me to rephrase the question. Are you still intent on leaving London after what has just occurred?”

How could she answer when she didn’t know what to do anymore?

“By your own admission you have had relations with other women,” she said, choosing to be aloof as a means of self-preservation. “How is this any different?”

“How is it different!” he repeated, seemingly unimpressed with her answer. “Please tell me you’re joking. Eight years may have passed, but the same raging need flows through our veins.

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