Her fingers didn't burn at his touch. Her heart didn't flutter in her chest.
She felt as if a shadow Eleanor were in the room with them, the Eleanor of old, who would have been laughing, and crying, and throwing herself onto Gideon's chest. Who would have been unable to stop kissing him, her hands flying about his shoulders, touching him as he so clearly longed for her to do.
"Do you understand now why I left you for Ada?" he said, scooping up her hands and putting the palms against his mouth.
"No," Eleanor said. "No."
The shadow Eleanor would have kissed his palm. She might even have done something mad, like pull off his neck scarf, laughing at his protests, her fingers trailing over the strong column of his throat.
The real Eleanor just closed her lips tightly.
"I didn't understand that you were like food and drink. I never imagined that the attentions I—I silently chided you for would become the only thing I longed for. That without your desire I would shrivel into a man I scarcely recognize, a man without blood."
"You never revealed anything to me," she whispered. "Nothing. I saw you so many times after you married."
"Ada knew."
"I thought—I feared—"
"She understood. I used to talk of you sometimes." "You didn't!"
"She had no interest in marital relations," he said. "None. If I was trapped by my father's will, she was equally trapped." "You never made love?"
"A few times, in the first year. It made her cough. It made her uncomfortable and unhappy. She didn't enjoy it in the least." His hands tightened convulsively on hers. "After a while all I could think about was you, and the way you welcomed me, desired me. Of you, and what I threw away."
Eleanor took a deep breath. "I'm honored by your feelings—"
"There aren't many women like you," he interrupted. "Do you know that, Eleanor? Do you understand how life-giving, how important, you are to a man? I would kiss you now," he said, his eyes fierce, intent. "I would sweep you into my arms and carry you to that bed, if it were honorable, Eleanor. You know that, don't you?"
"Well—" she said, startled.
"In fact, the more I look at you, the more I feel my grip on honor slipping from my grasp," he said hoarsely. "Ada knew, after all. What's a scandal between you and me? We—"
"No," she said firmly. "Gideon, you have to leave at dawn and continue your journey to Ada's great-aunt."
"But I'll return to you," he said, his voice full of longing. "You can't stay here, with Villiers."
"I'm visiting Lisette, not the duke." "I saw the way he looked at you." "Villiers is marrying Lisette."
Gideon snorted.
Eleanor blinked. "Did you say something?"
"The Duke of Villiers has finally found the one woman he can't have." There was something bold and prideful in his voice that froze the words in her mouth. "He will have to live without you."
"As I said, he plans to marry Lisette," she said, moving toward the door. "Now I really must go to sleep, Gideon. It's been a long day."
"I would kiss you," he said, moving after her. "But I wouldn't be able to stop. And I know you couldn't. So I'm being good for both of us."
Eleanor swallowed. "I'm glad," she said faintly, opening the door.
It was all she'd dreamed of for years. He leaned toward her, his beautifully-shaped mouth hovering near hers. "Ask me, Eleanor," he whispered. "Beg me to stay. I can't say no to you. I never could say no to you."
The shadow Eleanor would have pleaded with him to stay. She would be a flame by now, intent on driving him to the same luxurious agony.
The real Eleanor felt strangely calm. Gideon seemed too beautiful, and too passive. Why did he want her to do all the kissing? Why did she have to—
She cleared her throat. "Not tonight," she said. "You're right. It wouldn't be appropriate."
She had the door almost closed when it opened again under the pressure of his hand. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you here with Villiers and those bastards of his." I'm visiting Lisette," she said patiently. How long?" How long what?" How long will your visit be?"
Oh, a few more days," she said, not having given it much thought.
I'll come back," he said. "I'll escort you and your mother back to London."
But then everyone will know—"
I love you," he said, his voice shaking a bit. "I love you and the world can know. I am willing to accept censure in order to have you."
"Wonderful," Eleanor said weakly. She closed the door, leaned against it, her forehead against the cool wood. "Wonderful."