She was hurting him. She was clutching onto her anger because it was all she could depend on, but all she was doing was hurting the one person she—
The flower in her hand snapped in two. Had she been about to say loved?
Victoria felt herself rising to her feet as if lifted by some invisible force. There was something else in her heart now. She wasn't sure it was love, but it was something gentle and good, and it had pushed the anger aside. She felt freer than she had in years.
She looked back up to the window. Robert's head was in his hands. This wasn't right. She couldn't keep hurting him this way. He was a good man. A bit domineering at times, she thought with a wobbly smile, but a good man.
Victoria reentered the house and quietly made her way to her room.
She sat motionless on her bed for a full minute. Could she really do this? She closed her eyes and nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, she moved her shaking hands to the fastenings of her dress.
She slipped into the blue nightgown, sliding her hands down its silky length. She felt transformed.
And she finally admitted to herself what she had known all along—she wanted Robert. She wanted him, and she wanted to know that he wanted her. The question of love was still too scary for her to confront, even in her own mind, but her desire was strong and impossible to deny. With a steadiness of purpose she hadn't felt in some time, Victoria walked to his chamber door and turned the knob.
He'd locked it.
Her mouth fell open. She tried the knob again, just to be sure. It was definitely locked.
She nearly fell to the ground in frustration. She had made one of the most momentous decisions in her life, and he had gone and locked the damn door.
Victoria had half a mind to turn around and head back to her own room, where she could sulk alone. He would never know what he had missed, the blasted man. But then she realized that she would never know, either. And she wanted to feel loved again.
She raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Robert's head shot up in surprise. He thought he'd heard the doorknob rattle, but he'd assumed that it was merely the creaking of an old building. Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine that Victoria would come to him of her own volition.
But then he heard something different. A knock. What could she possibly want?
He crossed the room in swift, long strides and pulled open the door. “What do you—” He sucked in his breath. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Victoria had donned the seductive gown he'd given her, and this time she wasn't covering herself up with a quilt. The blue silk clung to her every curve, the neckline plunged to reveal her delicate cleavage, and one of her legs was visible though along slit in the side.
Robert's body went instantly taut. Somehow he managed to utter her name. It wasn't easy; his mouth had gone dry as death.
She stood before him, her bearing proud but her hands shaking. “I've made a decision,” she said in a low voice.
He inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“I want you,” she said. “If you'll still have me.”
Robert froze, so unable to believe what he was hearing that he couldn't move.
Her face fell. “I'm sorry,” she said, misinterpreting his inaction. “How ill-bred of me. Please forget I—”
The rest of her sentence was lost as Robert crushed her to him, his hands roving wildly up and down the length of her body. Robert wanted to devour her—he wanted to wrap himself around her and never let go. So all encompassing was his reaction that he was afraid he'd frightened her with his passion. With a ragged breath he pulled himself a few inches away from her.
She looked up at him with huge, questioning blue eyes.
He managed a shaky smile. “I'll still have you,” he said.
For a second she didn't react. Then she laughed. The sound was almost musical, and it did more for his soul than the Church of England ever had. He took her face in his hands with reverent gentleness. “I love you, Torie,” he said. “I will always love you.”
She didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally she stood on her tiptoes and brushed a feathery kiss across his lips. “I can't talk of ‘always’ yet,” she whispered. “Please don't—”
He understood, and he saved her from having to finish her sentence by claiming her mouth once again in a fiercely possessive kiss. He didn't mind that she wasn't yet ready for “always.” Soon she would be. He would prove to her that their love was a forever emotion. He would do it with his hands and lips and words.
His hands slid up the length of her body, the silk of her gown bunching under his fingers. He could feel her every curve through the thin material. “I'm going to show you what love is,” he whispered. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her breast. “I'm going to love you here.”
He moved his lips to her neck. “And here.”
His hands squeezed her buttocks. “And here.”
She moaned in reaction, a hoarse, sensual sound that came from deep within her throat. Robert suddenly doubted his ability to remain standing. He swooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, he said, “I'm going to love you everywhere.”
Victoria sucked in her breath. His eyes were burning into her, and she felt terribly exposed, as if he could see into her very soul. Then he came down beside her, and she was lost in the heat of his body and the passion of the moment. He was hard and strong, hot and overwhelming. Her senses were swimming.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered, barely able to believe her own boldness.
He grasped her hand and guided it to his chest. His skin burned, and she could feel his heart pounding under her fingers. “Feel me,” he murmured. “Feel what you do to me.”