Chapter Twenty-Six
Painting had always been her refuge. Whitney bent over the last canvas, the one depicting the Taverhams in this room, and added small details to what had become her best work. She was done with it, and she could leave first thing in the morning.
A deep sadness filled her. She had packed and repacked her trunks several times, deciding that she had to get rid of more than a few possessions before she traveled.
She straightened and groaned as her back protested. “There.”
The door lock turning made her shiver, as did the question asked in a voice she’d never hear again after tomorrow. “Are you finally done, Whitney?”
A shock of longing filled her at the sound of Lord Acton whispering her given name. They had not spoken very much more than a few words together since their return indoors, although he’d followed behind her silently all night and, true to his word, had kept the duke from approaching her again.
But what she felt for Acton was impossible to act upon. She had not expected that he would remain so late. He had guests at home he should be entertaining. “Yes, I believe so.”
She took her paintbrush and wiped it clean on the silk breaches that she’d once taken from him by mistake and, without looking around, began to pack up her painting case in readiness for tomorrow’s journey.
He came closer, boots striking the boards softly. “May I view the masterpiece?”
She nodded. “It’s time to show it off now anyway.”
There was silence behind her for a long time and eventually she turned. Everett had raised both gloved hands to his lips and stared at her work. “This is…”
He stretched out his hand but thankfully did not touch the canvas where some parts would still be wet.
“This is incredible,” he said, and then turned to Whitney wearing a huge smile. “I had heard you had talent, but this is more than I dreamed possible. I understand better why you wish to seek out others of similar persuasion.”
A blush crept up her cheeks at his praise and she looked away. “I can do better. That is why I am going away, to improve myself.”
She was also going away so she could forget him.
Acton came closer as he spoke. “You don’t need to improve, change, you just need to be yourself. You shame the angels with your gift.”
“Hardly an angel,” she whispered, glancing at him swiftly as her heart began to clatter in her breast.
“You are to me, Whitney Crewe,” he promised with a soft smile. “You make me a better man.”
“Everett,” she warned. “Don’t talk that way.”
“If not now, when? Oh, Whitney, I’m so tired of being alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Whitney promised him. “You have Alice.”
He shook his head. “I never kissed her.”
Her eyes widened. “Because of your sister?”
“No. It is not that.” He winced. “It seems I am like you. I’m not romantic. Not with her.”
Whitney trembled with shock. “But you’re to be married.”
He lifted his chin. “We were never left alone long enough for anything to occur. She sought me out only once, but only because you suggested she should.”
Whitney trembled. “She wanted to know if you loved her.”
“I don’t.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I thought she seemed more interested in your suitor than with me.”
“Exeter was never my suitor, and it cannot be true that she prefers his company over yours. The duke is very charming and funny, and you’ve been so very grim of late.” She closed her box. “Alice was raised to be a very proper young woman. If anything is to happen before you become man and wife, then I think you will have to pursue her.”
“It has not been easy,” he confessed as he picked up his breeches and folded them neatly. He held them out to her to pack away. “And that might be a problem. I just…”
Whitney added his breeches to her belongings, feeling better for keeping them. “What?”
“I wanted my relationship with Alice to be as easy and as uncomplicated as it is with you.”
Her heart beat wildly against her ribs. “Perhaps it only seems easy since I’m not the one you’ll marry. I’m hardly ever proper.”
“You’re proudly eccentric,” he whispered, as he captured the cuff of her sleeve to admire the fine details she’d painted there when she’d first come in.
“I am,” she agreed, but wished it were not so. If she’d been different, would Everett have considered her as more than a friend by now? “We’ve had our ups and downs.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “It’s why I like you. I never know what to expect. You never let me get ahead of myself, and for that I am grateful.”
Whitney turned away. “Nonsense!”
His hands skimmed her arms, and she shivered with the impulse to turn around. “It’s true. You changed me. I’m glad you never met my sister properly. I think Emily would have hated everything about you. She would have convinced others not to like you, too, and I am ashamed to say I might have gone along with her once upon a time.” He leaned toward her and inhaled. “But I don’t dislike you at all. I think…no. I know I fell in love with you long ago.”
Her breath caught as he fitted himself to her back and wrapped his arms about her waist. She didn’t resist him. She couldn’t catch her breath easily. The warmth of his body seeped through her gown and she started to turn around to face him.
“Don’t move,” he warned. He tightened his grip and drew her into him as they were. “I just want to hold you for a moment before we part ways. I need this.”
“Everett?”
“Nothing has changed since the night we first met, has it?”
“No.” There was comfort and pain in being in his arms again. She’d never thought she’d fall in love, and yet she was certain she loved him, too. “I still want you as much then as now,” she confessed.
Whitney let out a shaky breath as he splayed his fingers over her stomach. He was wearing gloves as usual but it made not the slightest difference to what she felt. His touch set her body on fire, and she longed for some way to end the torture.
She tipped her head back to rest upon his shoulder, gazing up at the intricate ceiling and wishing it was an open sky filled with stars instead. Everett nuzzled her hair with a tortured groan as his fingers rose to capture her breast and squeeze until she moaned, too.
Whitney loved the way she felt with Everett surrounding her. Her body began to tingle everywhere, even if she knew he would leave her unsatisfied. This man had caused her so many sleepless nights.
But she loved him, and that meant making sacrifices and taking chances.
She glanced toward the door, remembering he’d locked it. She couldn’t be with him once he’d married Alice. Opportunities like this would cease tomorrow.
Whitney closed her eyes, lost in a fierce battle with her conscience and her desires as he began to arouse her in earnest. She was betraying Alice, a woman she’d considered a friend for a very long time.
But she had met Everett first—and he was the one for her.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” he gasped as he caught hold of her hips. “But I swear I would love to do nothing more than that tonight, and all the nights of my life.”
Whitney let out a frustrated groan that had Everett chuckling against her hair.
“I love that you want me this much,” he whispered. “It makes the torture bearable knowing it is shared.”
“There is a way for us to be together without risk,” she said and caught his hand, inspired by a wicked idea. “Come with me.”
She led Everett across the room to an open window and drew him outside, into the night.
She ran with him to a secluded corner of the garden she’d discovered, where two stone benches had been placed opposite each other.
They were set far enough apart to surely be considered a safe distance by him.
His brow creased in the moonlight. “What are we doing?”
She pushed him down onto one and spun around to sit on the other.
“We are going to make love together, but separately.” She inched her gown up her legs a little, and then undid the top button on her gown.
His eyes widened. “Almost like the first night we met?”
“The beginning,” she promised. She smiled as she undid another button on her bodice. “I won’t run away with your breeches this time.”
“I can’t promise not to take a souvenir of my own,” he warned with a wide smile before tossing off his coat. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, loosened his cravat and caught the first button of his breeches. “I could steal your whole gown.”
Whitney licked her lips. “That would mean others might see me naked.”
“No, I do not want that. I want you all to myself. I’ll have the chemise your wearing instead.” He smiled warmly. “Have you done this before?”
She should tell him now about her past so that the last of his shocks were over for him. If he did not like what he discovered, then he was not the man for her. “I’m not innocent, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He smiled. “I’d already gathered that, and I don’t care either way.”
“I’m not promiscuous,” she promised. She licked her lips as he removed his shirt and exposed half his beautiful body to her eager eyes. The man was sinfully attractive. “But…”
His lips quirked. “You have trouble staying away from men you consider handsome?”
She held up three fingers, and his eyes narrowed.
“Is that three before me?”
“Including you.” She shrugged. “I know we stopped, but you were so memorable, I concluded we may as well have shared a bed together.”
“There wasn’t a bed anywhere in sight,” he said darkly. “I was planning to have you up against the wall.”
Whitney’s breath caught, and she quickly finished unbuttoning her gown. She left it on but parted to tease him.
“Be naked with me,” he whispered. “I would like to see you tonight. All of you.”
She rose to her feet as she slipped her gown off her shoulders so it fell to pool at her feet. Clad in only a sheer chemise now, she glanced at her lover.
Everett moaned. He had opened the fall of his trousers and now idly stroked himself with the edge of his thumb.
Her smile grew as he became bolder about it. “Remind me of what you have there,” she asked, hands shaking with the need to grasp him again.
He shuffled to bring his breeches to his knees. Whitney had of course seen Everett naked before, and her imagination often brought him to her bed, but the visual added to her arousal to such a degree that her palms became damp.
He brought his hand to his cock and began to stroke. “Is this what you need?”
She nodded, breath coming even faster. She lifted her chemise a little higher, so he would glimpse her quim. She ran her fingers through her red curls and he moaned again.
“I’m wet,” she told him. “Again.”
He laughed once. “I’m in hell,” he complained. “Again.”
Whitney leaned back on one arm and began to play in earnest, sliding her fingers through her slick folds, dipping the tip of one finger deeper into where he could be if he wasn’t so concerned for her health and her future.
“Take it all off,” he growled.
Despite the frustration of not being able to touch him, she loved him all the more for his demand.
“Everything?”
“Leave your slippers and stockings on,” he decided with a nod. “The stones might hurt your feet.”
She tugged her chemise over her head and then returned her hand to her quim. She had never pleasured herself before another but found it wildly exciting with him looking on. They fell silent, each watching the other, each touching themselves with unabashed need.
His hand stilled and his chest heaved.
Dressed in nothing but stockings and shoes, she felt free, she felt beautiful as she stared at him.
“Lovelier than I could have imagined.” He shook out his cravat. “Don’t move from that pose.”
Whitney closed her eyes, but she slowed the movement of her fingers. She was very aroused. Very ready for him to touch her sensitive skin if only he would.
She opened her eyes suddenly, realizing he’d moved to stand over her, his nose and mouth covered by his folded cravat.
She met his hot gaze, heart hammering painfully against her ribs. She needed him. Her attention dropped down his body, lingered on his stiff cock. He held himself tightly, gripping the base without moving.
“Widen your legs farther for me,” he demanded, his voice hot and dark and so eager, she shivered.
Whitney parted her folds, reveling in Everett’s loud groan in response.
She longed to touch him as a lover would. Give herself over to his pleasure and an uncertain future. Yet she was too emotional to speak.
The moment was perfect. Raw with emotion, and yet she had to tell him what was in her heart. “I love you,” she whispered.
Everett dropped the cravat and fell to his knees beside her bench, close but too far away to touch. “Show me your passion, Whitney,” he begged. “Make yourself come for me.”
So Whitney groaned desperately and, while he watched, gave her body and soul to him completely.