“I-I think we must stop,” she said. “I can't do this…My reputation…” She had no idea how to put her thoughts into words. Her father's warning rang ceaselessly in her ears. He will use you and discard you.
She saw Robert's head at her breast. “Robert, no!”
Robert inhaled raggedly and pulled her gaping bodice together. He tried to redo the buttons, but his hands were trembling.
“I'll do it,” Victoria said quickly, turning so that he would not see the red shame on her face. Her fingers were shaking, too, but they proved more nimble than his, and eventually she managed to right her appearance.
But he saw her pink cheeks, and it nearly killed him to think that she was ashamed of her behavior. “Torie,” he said softly. When she didn't turn around he used two fingers to gently prod her chin until she faced him.
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Oh, Torie,” he said, wanting desperately to haul her into his arms, but settling for touching her cheek. “Please don't berate yourself.”
“I shouldn't have let you.”
He smiled gently. “No, you probably shouldn't have. And I probably shouldn't have tried. But I'm in love. It's no excuse, but I couldn't help myself.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But I shouldn't have enjoyed it so much.”
At that Robert let out a bark of laughter so loud that Victoria was sure Ellie would come crashing through the woods to investigate. “Oh, Torie,” he said, gasping for air. “Don't ever apologize for enjoying my touch. Please.”
Victoria tried to shoot him an admonishing glance, but her eyes were far too warm. She allowed her good humor to rise back to the surface. “Just so long as you don't apologize for enjoying mine.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him in the breadth of an instant. He smiled seductively, looking rather like the rake Victoria had once accused him of being. “That, my darling, has never been a danger.”
She laughed softly, feeling her earlier tension slip from her body. She shifted position, settling her back against his chest. He was absently toying with her hair, and it felt like sheer heaven.
“We'll be married soon,” he whispered, his words coming with an urgency she hadn't expected. “We'll be married soon, and then I will show you everything. I'll show you how much I love you.”
Victoria shivered with anticipation. He was speaking against her skin, and she could feel his breath near her ear.
“We'll be married,” he repeated. “Just as soon as we can. But until then I don't want you to feel ashamed of anything we have done. We love each other, and there is nothing more beautiful than two people expressing their love.” He turned her around until their eyes met. “I didn't know that before I met you. I—” He swallowed. “I had been with women, but I didn't know that.”
Deeply moved, Victoria touched his cheek.
“No one will strike us down for loving before we are married,” he continued.
Victoria wasn't certain whether “loving” referred to the spiritual or the physical, and all she could think to say was, “No one except my father.”
Robert closed his eyes. “What has he said to you?”
“He said I must not see you anymore.”
Robert swore softly under his breath and opened his eyes. “Why?” he asked, his voice coming out a bit harsher than intended.
Victoria considered several replies but finally opted for honesty. “He said you won't marry me.”
“And how would he know that?” Robert snapped.
Victoria drew back. “Robert!”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice. It's just—How could your father possibly know my mind?”
She placed her hand on his. “He doesn't. But he thinks he does, and I'm afraid that is all that matters just now. You are an earl. I am the daughter of a country vicar. You must admit that such a match is most unusual.”
“Unusual,” he said fiercely. “Not impossible.”
“To him it is,” she replied. “He'll never believe your intentions are honorable.”
“What if I speak with him, ask him for your hand?”
“That might appease him. I have told him that you want to marry me, but I think he thinks I'm making it up.”
Robert rose to his feet, drawing her up with him, and gallantly kissed her hand. “Then I shall have to formally ask him for your hand tomorrow.”
“Not today?” Victoria asked with a teasing glance.
“I should inform my father of my plans first,” Robert replied. “I owe him that courtesy.”
Robert hadn't yet told his father about Victoria. Not that the marquess could forbid the match. At four and twenty Robert was of an age to make his own decisions. But he knew that his father could make life difficult with his disapproval. And considering how often the marquess urged Robert to settle down with the daughter of this duke or that earl, he had a feeling that a vicar's daughter wasn't quite what his father had in mind for him.
And so it was with firm resolve and some trepidation that Robert knocked on his father's study door.
“Enter.” Hugh Kemble, the Marquess of Castleford, was seated behind his desk. “Ah, Robert. What is it?”
“Have you a few moments, sir? I need to talk with you.”
Castleford looked up with impatient eyes. “I'm quite busy, Robert. Can it wait?”
“It is of great import, sir.”
Castleford set down his quill with a gesture of annoyance. When Robert did not start speaking immediately, he prompted, “Well?”