∞∞∞

James had never shared his bed with a woman. Always he had joined them in theirs, then made his excuses and left before any of them could mistake lust for love and grow clingy. He had never wanted a woman invading his sanctuary, encroaching upon his space, disturbing his rest.
But he wouldn’t have had Jilly anywhere else. She had tried, just briefly, to do the proper thing and leave his bed for her own. She knew as well as he did that husbands and wives of their class did not share bedrooms, that their routines worked best when uninterrupted by the inconvenient presence of one’s spouse.
But he hadn’t wanted her to leave. And when she had at last located her silk wrapper, he had snatched it from her fingers, balled it up, and hurled it across the room. It had taken only a moment to coax her back into bed, to tuck her head beneath his chin and the rest of her into the curve of his body, to permit his arm to drape over her hip. She had surrendered to sleep gracefully, her breaths soft and even, untroubled.
He envied her the pleasure. The guilt he had temporarily blotted out of his mind had settled back in anew, sharper and more poignant. But he thought he could suffer it the rest of his life, if only he could fix things so that she never discovered how he had deceived her from their very first meeting. If only he could keep her, hold onto her love, he would suffer beneath that burden forever. If only he could keep it from becoming hers.
He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and kissed the soft curve of her cheek, breathing in that biscuit-sweet fragrance that clung to her skin.
She had surrendered herself into his keeping. How could he do any less?
“I love you, Jilly,” he whispered into her ear.
And even in her sleep, he would swear that she had smiled.

Chapter Twenty Four