The trouble was she couldn't. Even if she could, did she want to? For that way lay madness. Elizabeth knew nothing about him, only how he made her feel, the whirlwind passion he had filled her with. That was not exactly the best criteria for selecting a spouse, even if she knew who he was.
And marriage was more than likely not on the cards at all. She knew all too well from the many cautionary tales she had heard about men and their depravities that many just used a woman and then cast her aside, leaving her ruined and alone, sometimes with a child which would also be shunned by society, called an evil name. It had happened to her own sister, for Heaven's sake, despite them having been strictly brought up.
What on earth had she been thinking when she had let him kiss her, touch her so? It had only been by sheer luck that she had got away.
Well, not luck at all, a little voice admitted. He had been the one who stopped. He had not pressed his attentions to their natural conclusion. Elizabeth had to acknowledge truthfully with a bitter groan that she would have been more than willing to continue onwards if he had.
She sat up, put her head in her hands and sighed heavily. Good Heavens, she was as much of a lewd woman as her sister had been. Worse. For at least Paxton had wooed Jane for weeks with warm words of regard.
A strange nameless, faceless man had kissed her once, and she had spread her legs like a tuppenny whore.
Well, perhaps it had not been quite that bad, she thought with another pang of longing, recalling his tender hands and his whispered promises.
What was wrong with the women in her family? Her brother Thomas seemed to have iron-clad control, never having indulged himself indiscriminately the way many men in their society did. All of the men in his set, the Rakehells, were most deferential toward women, respecting them for their intelligence and character even as they admired them for their beauty. They advocated equal rights for women, and espoused numerous other worthy causes, which had earned them their nickname, due to their rather passionate and devil-may-care way of fighting for social justice.
Clifford Stone, a respectable landlord, and Jonathan Deveril, a dashing young man now turned sober vicar, were Thomas' closest friends, without the least hint of sexual scandal attached to their names. Dr. Blake Sanderson ran Sarah Deveril's clinic for fallen women in London, and was said to be little better than a monk. Several of the other men had served in the war with distinction, such as Michael Avenel and Alexander Davenport.
Even Alistair Grant, one of the greatest barristers in England, could also be numbered amongst her brother's set. Though he was not as involved in politics, given his exalted position in the legal system of the country, he was still deemed a Rakehell for his ardent pursuit of justice for everyone, from king to commoner.
Most of the Rakehells were remarkably restrained, in fact. Only one of Thomas' friends, Philip Marshall, recently back from abroad, was said to be cutting cut a swath amongst the beauties of the Ton. Yet Thomas had said that all gossip could not be believed-appearances were often deceiving.
She trusted his judgment and opinion of Philip, that there was more to him than met the eye. All of Thomas' particular friends she had ever met had been decent, God-fearing men just like him. She sighed. Her brother most definitely seemed to be the only one in their family immune to lust.
But then, her brother had been lucky enough to find a good wife to settle down with. better to marry than to burn, as St. Paul had said.
Elizabeth feared men, feared desire. Yet the man who had almost taken her in the cave had set her afire. Yet surely matters between a man and a woman had to be more than just that? In fact, most couples in her society married for strategic reasons. Certainly not for love, let alone unbridled lust. The Rakehells who had married thus far had all made love matches, but they were the exception, not the rule.
How could she feel so strongly about someone she had never even exchanged a meaningful word with? She had no idea of his background, character, only what his lips had told her as they had run over her fevered flesh, thrilling her…
Elizabeth groaned again and heaved herself off the bed as the lassitude in her limbs threatened to engulf her. Lord, what was happening to her? She was sparking now without even touching herself in any way.
She pressed her palms together to take a deep breath, and then began to lay out a gown for dinner. She pulled out her undergarments from the dresser, and forced herself to think of mundane things like the garden and the account books, until at last she had safely covered her bareness, though she could feel the warm heat rolling off her thighs.
Then she donned her gown, a delicate spotted muslin of white with sapphire to match her eyes. She began to brush out her hair, but that was almost her undoing as she recalled his hot, hard hands stroking down its silken fall to her waist and bottom.