If he crawled in that bed beside her, his fate would be sealed, whether anyone was aware of their circumstances or not. He may deny himself this chance to make love to her and he might just be successful, but it wouldn’t matter in the end. He would know how they had spent the night, even it was only sleeping in each other’s arm. It would still be damning to her reputation. And, as much as he would wish to keep it a secret, it wouldn’t remain so. Eventually, Trent would ask what became of them and no matter how innocent the situation may be, demands would be made upon him. In the end, it wouldn’t matter whether he remained in the chair, watching over her, or in the bed comfortable and warm. As far as Bentley and the rest of the Trents were concerned, they spent the night in a cottage, alone, naked except for blankets, and marriage would be expected.

  He shivered and pulled the blanket tight. He was so blasted cold, as was she and it was idiotic for both of them to suffer when they would probably be married within a fortnight.

  Rising from his seat, Jonathan added more wood to the fire before padding across the room to lie down beside her. Keeping the blankets between them, he pulled Geneviève into his arms. She sighed and rolled toward him and soon, they both stopped shaking.

  He stared into the flames. Though exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. Each time he closed his eyes he became more aware of the woman in his arms. It would be so easy the slip between the folds of the blanket, to bring her skin next to his, but he didn’t dare. Just having her this close stirred his blood. Another blanket lay across the foot of the bed. He pulled it across them, hoping it would bring more warmth. It was of little use.

  Geneviève snuggled closer and rested a hand on his bare chest and her head on his shoulder. How had she slipped between the blankets?

  He bit back a groan and closed his eyes. This would be a very long night but he was determined to sleep and not take advantage of the situation, or the woman in his arms.

  Chapter 21

  Jonathan slowly became aware of the ache of his arousal. Cracking his eyes open he looked about the room and out the window. It was just beginning to lighten outside. He wasn’t even sure where they were at the moment.

  The fire had burned down and only embers remained. He should add more wood but loathed to pull himself from the bed. Besides, he wasn’t nearly as cold as he had been earlier. The heat of Geneviève’s skin against his had warmed them both.

  His eyes popped open further. Her skin? He didn’t look but became intensely aware of her naked thigh draped across his, as well as her hand resting on his abdomen and breast pressed against his side. His arm was wrapped around her and her head rested on his shoulder, her deep breaths brushing against his chest.

  She snuggled further against him, her leg cradling his bullocks, the curls at the apex of her thighs brushing his hip. He groaned. No wonder his body was on fire with need. He was only a man and the one woman he desired above all others was pressed against him, making every inch of the skin burn with anticipation.

  She was asleep and was unaware of the danger she courted. It would be so easy to turn toward her, press his lips against hers, touch her as he wished and make love to her. But, he would not. Taking advantage of the situation was too low. Others may, but he was a gentleman.

  He was also a man who would get no further sleep. Perhaps he should go toss himself in the Thames again to cool his blood. Surely that is what a gentleman would do.

  Even as he considered the option, Jonathan knew he was not moving from the bed anytime soon, even though he should.

  Geneviève sighed and slid her hand lower, brushing his cock. He gritted his teeth and grasped her hand, moving it up his body. Truly, a man could only take so much.

  When she gasped, he looked down. Her eyes were wide and her face flushed and he suspected it had nothing to do with the warmth they shared. “Goodness,” she muttered. Slowly her head tilted back and their eyes met. A blush stained her cheeks.

  Nor did she move away from him. Shouldn’t she scramble to the other side of the bed, taking a blanket with her to preserve her virtue? She lay there, studying him. Her hand upon his chest, her leg across his thighs, her breaths quickening and her nipples hardening against his side.

  He groaned. How much was he forced to endure? She was becoming as aroused as he and he hadn’t even touched her yet. What would be her reaction if he cupped her breast or rolled her on her back and caressed her stomach and thighs as she had done to him? Was she one to cry out in passion or remain quiet?

  Jonathan truly wanted to know. His mouth was dry, wishing to quench his thirst from her lips. To suckle the rosebud nipples and taste her juices on his tongue. His cock swelled, becoming painful with need. His heart pounded and his hands shook in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. So far, he had done nothing too inappropriate. His hand was above hers on his chest and the other, wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her close. But, it would be so easy to slip it down the side and grasp the swell of her breast.

  Her tongue darted out, licking her lips and it was over for him. Turning toward her, he framed her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers.

  Instead of pulling away as she should, Geneviève’s leg slid over his hip, and his cock, free from the confines of the blanket, pressed against her curls. It was all he could do not to roll her on her back and thrust into her heat, but Jonathan fought the urge. She was innocent and had no idea of the temptation she offered. Could he enjoy her, give her pleasure without making love to her?

  A gentleman would.

  Hell, a gentleman would have never gotten in bed with her in the first place.

  She sighed, her lips parting, her tongue mating with his. He couldn’t take anymore and knew where this would end. However, she would know pleasure like none other before the fall.

  He cupped her breast, the nipple tightened further as the globe swelled in his palm. He devoured her mouth as she devoured his. She arched, pressing against him. Heated radiated from them and Jonathan slid the blankets to their waists and rolled Geneviève to her back as he came to rest between her thighs. She opened for him. Perhaps it was only for comfort because she couldn’t understand how vulnerable she just made herself, could she?

  Jonathan trailed kisses across her jaw and to her delicate collarbone before lowering himself until he could feast on her breasts. Once again Geneviève moaned and arched. His hand skimmed up her silken thigh until he came to her curls. They brushed against her sensitive skin and the moisture at his fingertips made him want to lift her hips and plunge forward. He held off and slid further down her body. Pleasure! She would know pleasure first.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair as he placed kisses across the gentle swell of her abdomen. He wanted to touch her everywhere. Taste every single inch. In time he would but right now, one area beckoned him.

  As he kissed the inside of her thigh, Geneviève reared up. “What are you doing?”

  It wasn’t something he could explain, nor did he dare. Gently he pushed her shoulders back against the bed. “Trust me,” he whispered.

  Before she could offer another objection, he kissed her in the most intimate manner. Geneviève gasped and her thighs relaxed. Jonathan slid them over his shoulders, lifting her slightly for better access, and returned his mouth and tongue to the most sensitive part of her body.

  She groaned and he feasted.

  Geneviève’s head thrashed back and forth on the pillow and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. He didn’t care if she drew blood and her passion heated his all the more. He found a rhythm and her cries grew louder until she stiffened, nearly screaming out her pleasure before falling back against the bed, panting.

  Jonathan bit back a grin of pride and pulled himself back on her body, nestled between her thighs. He could take her now and she would probably have no objections. But, she needed to understand that what was about to happen could never be undone and it would link their future together forever. She could walk away from this, as could he, without permanent damage, a lovely, pleasant secret between them.

  She blinked up at him, a relaxed smile on her lips, and tilted her hips. Was she innocent or were her actions instinctive of days old practice?

  “Stop,” he hissed.

  Her body stilled and she frowned.

  “You know what I wish to do?”

  “I think so.”

  “I won’t unless you want it as well and understand the consequences.”

  Her eyebrows drew together as if thinking. Perhaps she didn’t understand.

  “I want to take you. Make love to you. Bury myself so deep within until you cry with pleasure again.”

  Her pupils dilated and her cheeks darkened with a blush.

  “I want you, Geneviève Mirabelle.”

  She drew his head to hers, kissing his lips. Jonathan allowed himself this pleasure for only a short time. He could not afford to lose his head now. Not until she understood.

  He drew back and thrust his hips. He didn’t enter her but wanted her to feel him, to understand what he wanted.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He didn’t think his cock could swell further but it did.

  “From this day forward you will be mine. Nobody else’s ever. Only mine.”

  She stilled, staring at him. He wished he could read her thoughts. Was she now just realizing what was about to happen, or could happen, and appreciate this would be her ruination? Would she push him away? God he hoped she didn’t but he would do as she wished. He had never taken a woman against her will and he would not begin to do so now. He may have painful days ahead of him, but at least he would know he did the right thing.

  “Will you expect me to be your mistress then?”

  “Mistress?” Where the hell had she come up with that idea? Did she think so little of him? She turned her face away from him as it grew redder and Jonathan wasn’t certain if it was from embarrassment or shame. He would never shame her as such and she needed to understand.

  “My mother was mistress to many men in Paris.” She said quietly. “It ended when we moved to Milan, but it had been necessary to survive in France and she became wealthy.

  Did her family have any idea how the sisters had lived while away? What they had been exposed to? No wonder she wasn’t so innocent. Perhaps in body, but not in knowledge. “Maman wanted to protect us from that life and she would hate that I become one as well.” She turned to look back at him. “But, I want you. I want to know what it is like to be made love to. No man has ever made me want the things you do.”

  She kissed him quickly and drew back. “I ache with a need I cannot explain, deep inside, as if something is missing.” She looked away. “I’ve never known the pleasure that you just showed me, but there is more.” She looked back. “Is there not?”

  Jonathan nodded and swallowed against the lump in his throat. No man had ever made her feel this way and he would be damned if he disappointed her. He took her face in his hands. “Geneviève, I do not want you to be my mistress.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and she glanced away again. “I understand.” She pushed against his chest. Surely she wasn’t turning him away. Not now.

  “Hold,” he said. Bringing her face back to his. “I want you to be my wife.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Wife?”

  A chuckle rumbled up in his chest. “Yes.”

  “But you don’t love me.” She frowned.

  He studied her and his heart swelled. At that moment, he knew he did. He could make all kinds of arguments of why they wouldn’t suit, but, it came down to one thing. His heart. If he didn’t love her, he would have never gotten in this bed. He had desired women in the past and was able to keep away from them. It was impossible not to touch Geneviève and he didn’t want to contemplate not having her in his life.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She blinked. “You do?”

  He chuckled again. “I believe I have for a time.”

  A smile burst on her lips.

  But what of her feelings. Would all emotions be one-sided? That was no way for a marriage to continue. She would have the power to destroy him. Dare he risk his heart so he could make love to her now?

  Chapter 22

  He loved her. He really, truly loved her and wanted to marry her. Geneviève’s heart soared. She never dreamed of finding such happiness. She pulled Jonathan down, intent on kissing him as he had her. She ached and wanted to know more of what they could be to one another. She wanted him to make love to her so that she finally understood. She wanted to lay in his arms, content for the first time in her life.

  Jonathan pulled back. “I need your answer.”

  “It is yes. I will be your wife,” she blurted out. He loved and respected her. He had come to her for help. She would be a partner. Not a wife on his arm when needed. Their lives would be glorious and she would no longer need to try and please her family only ending up disappointing them at every turn. They wanted her to change, which she would do. Jonathan already knew who she was, much better than her brothers. And, he loved her.

  Jonathan rolled away. “Is there a chance that you might one day love me?”

  She missed his warmth immediately. Why did he pull away from her? She ached with need and anticipated what he might do to her. His manhood had been pressed against her stomach, and then brushed the sensitive apex of her thighs. Of course, it scared her. He was so large and if she understood the mechanics of lovemaking at all, anticipated that it would probably hurt. How could it not given his size, but for some reason, she didn’t care? She wanted him. But, now he was next her. What had she said wrong?

  With a sigh, he pulled the blankets up, shielding her body, and then wrapped one around his own. They no longer touched and she was immediately cold.

  “What is wrong?”

  “You didn’t answer my question, which should be answer enough.”

  He had confessed his love and she didn’t return the words. He asked and she hadn’t answered. She was such a stupid fool. Geneviève turned to her side and placed a hand against his cheek. Stubble was beginning to grow and it tickled her palm. She had so much to learn about this man and couldn’t wait for days, hours, and years they had ahead of them. “Of course I love you.”

  “Yet, you had to think about it.”

  “No. I didn’t.” She bit her lip. Yet she had. But, she knew the answer. “I just hadn’t realized until now.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you just saying that so you can have your way with me?”

  She giggled. “Isn’t that what a gentleman says to a miss?”

  He didn’t laugh. “I am serious.”

  She sobered. “I do love you,” she whispered. “I want to be your wife because I want to be with you. I want to be your partner.”

  “Partner?” he questioned.

  “Yes.” Geneviève came up on her elbow. “You are the first gentleman, including those in my family, who has not treated me like a simple miss, as if I don’t know my own mind. You asked for my help. You needed me. Nobody has ever really needed me before.”

  “I’m sure that is not true.”

  “Perhaps Maman when she was alive. But my sisters are married and Bentley will see me married to a man who wants me in his home and seeing to children. I want so much more. I want to help you. Be a part of your life.”

  He pulled back further. “Surely you will not want to come to the warehouse.”

  “I could be your secretary.” The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Her life would be full and she could share it with a man she loved and loved her back. “We could give each other what we need most.”

  He blew out a breath and did not say anything for a bit. “I am afraid I cannot allow that.”

  He might as well have struck her for the pain it caused.

  “You are a gently bred lady, who should be at home, taking care of a house and children. Not working in a business.” He caressed her cheek. “I can give you that home. I own a house on Piccadilly. You can decorate it as you see fit. I am wealthy and can give you anything.”

  He was no different than the others. He may have needed her help once, but he would not ask again. Just like her brothers, he would be telling her what she could and could not do. She would shrivel and die if all she did was sit at home waiting for his return. “I can’t be that kind of wife.” Tears sprang to her eyes. Her one moment of elation was doused with a few words.

  “The docks are no place for a lady.”

  “I am safe with you.” She had to make him understand. This could not be over so quickly.

  “I cannot always keep you safe. I would worry.”

  “I can take care of myself and be careful,” she insisted. “Please don’t insist I remain at home waiting.”

  “Of course not. You have friends, your sisters are here. I am sure your days will be full of entertainment.” His warm smile did nothing to soothe the ached in her heart. “It is where you belong.”

  He was not going to change his mind and as much as it pained her, Geneviève knew she could not marry him. She would be miserable within the year. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and rolled away. “Then it is best we did nothing further.” Turning her back she buried her face in the pillow. It was best this way and maybe in a decade her heart would mend.

  Jonathan said nothing. She waited, hoping he would change his mind. Instead, silence filled the room.

  The bed dipped as he rolled further away and got up. She wanted to know where he was going, but didn’t ask, nor did she look in his direction. If he wanted her as his wife and lover, he needed to accept every part of her and he was not willing to do so. A frigid chill filled the room and she glanced over her shoulder. He had opened the door and stood only in his blanket. Morning sunlight streamed into the room. He would catch his death. But, before she could say anything, he disappeared outside, closing the door behind him.

  Foolish man! Hopefully, he would return soon or he would freeze to death.

  She rolled to her other side and watched the door. If he were not back soon, she would go after him. Why had he left in the first place? Even if he didn’t want to remain in bed with her, he could have stayed in the cottage.