Free The Courtship by Grace Burrowes Page B

clinging to Esther’s life.
    Percival’s fingers, strong and warm, closed over Esther’s hand. “If you think for one instant I could forget either kissing you or the prospect of kissing you again, Esther Louise, you are much mistaken.”
    I want to see you naked, but for this glorious, silky hair, Esther, and a smile of welcome for me. She recalled his words, and they made her brave—or reckless.
    “I want to see you naked, sir.”
    He went still beside her then drew her to her feet. “Not here.”
    If not here, then somewhere—anywhere. She did not care, provided he granted her this wish, because a man in want of his clothing was often a man in want of his wits—her grandmother had told her that, and with a wink and a laugh too.
    “Where are we going?”
    He tugged her along a path that led away from the house. “Somewhere private, safe from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. If you’re to make free with my person—and I with yours—I want there to be no hurry about it.”
    And yet, he was hurrying. Hurrying Esther toward the dark expanse of the home wood, a tangled, overgrown place she’d ridden through with Lord Tony just yesterday. A nightingale started caroling, or maybe Esther was simply noticing the birdsong as they traveled into deeper shadows.
    “How can you possibly see where we’re going?”
    “I have excellent night vision, and I scouted the terrain last week.”
    He’d been thinking of trysting places even a week ago? The notion brought a serpent into the garden of Esther’s anticipation. She shook her hand loose from his. “Have you—?”
    He rounded on her and linked his arms over her shoulders. “Of course not, not with anybody else, nor will I.”
    She prepared to launch into a lecture, a stern description of what she expected of him during the remaining days of the house party, but he drew her into his embrace. “Do you think I could share a kiss such as you bestowed upon me two days past and then casually dally with another? Do you think I’d wait in the garden, night after night, hoping for another quarter hour’s conversation with you, then turn easily to the likes of the Harpies and Hair Bows lurking in the alcoves?”
    He sounded a touch incredulous, maybe even exasperated. Esther tried to tell herself his sentiments were superficial gallantries.
    Herself wasn’t inclined to listen. She leaned into him. “I want to make love with you.”
    His hand on her back went still, and Esther felt his chin resting on her crown. “My dear, there are consequences to such decisions, potentially grave consequences.”
    She might conceive, though the timing made that very unlikely. “I am prepared to accept those consequences.”
    “Are you?” Had his embrace become more snug?
    Was he arguing with her? The darkness prevented Esther from reading his expression, so she gave in to an impulse—one that would inspire him to put his lovely mouth to ends better suited to her plans than arguing.
    She slid her hand down the muscular plane of his chest, over his flat belly, down to the gratifyingly firm—dauntingly sizable—bulge behind his falls. “Enough talk, Percy. Make love with me.”
    He pushed into her hand for a moment, once, twice, then led her farther into the woods, to a clearing lit with the meager moonlight. In moments, his cloak was spread on the soft grass and Esther was flat on her back, while he loomed over her, blocking out the stars.
    “You must be sure, Esther. There can be no undoing what happens now, no regretting it.”
    So earnest, so unlike the shallow cavalier she’d seen across the room not two weeks ago.
    He would not be earnest and careful like this with other women. As he untied the bows of her dressing gown, Esther knew the relief of certainty. He would be charming and lighthearted, tender even and generous, but he would not be so… serious. For that, she loved him—loved him a little more.
    She trapped his hands in hers. “You first.”
    He sat back on