She had chosen to give to him. Only him. Him, this once only and forever.
He disengaged his body from hers, lifted himself away from her, brought her over onto her side against him, his arms about her. He drew the bedclothes up about them.
“Fleur.” He kissed her warmly, lingeringly. “Have the ghosts been banished?”
“Adam.” Her eyes were closed. The fingertips of one hand moved lightly over his face. “You are beautiful. So very beautiful.”
She was not sleeping, as he was not. He held her close, one hand smoothing through her hair, and communicated with her beyond the medium of words. They had only the one night. There was no time for talk. Or for sleep.
They lay quietly in each other’s arms until it was time to love again.
FLEUR DOZED OFF TO SLEEP at some time just before dawn. The duke cradled her head on his shoulder and rubbed his cheek lightly against the top of her head. He stared upward into the darkness. The candles in the parlor had burned themselves out long before.
It should be possible, he thought, to set her up somewhere in a house of her own, somewhere not too far from Willoughby perhaps, or somewhere close to London. He would be able to visit her for days or weeks at a time. It would become more his home than Willoughby.
They could be married in all but name. There had never been a marriage with Sybil. It was not even a consummated marriage. He could be faithful to Fleur. They could even have a child, perhaps. Or children.
It should be possible. He turned his head to kiss the top of hers. Surely it would be possible to persuade her. She loved him as he loved her. She had told him so and she had spent most of a night showing him so.
A cottage by the sea, perhaps. They could walk along the cliffs together, blown by the wind, looking out across the water. They could stroll along the beach. They could take their children running and playing on the sand.
He rubbed his cheek against her hair again. Pamela would enjoy the beach. He must take her. Willoughby was less than ten miles from the sea. He must take her before the summer was over, perhaps arrange to go with Duncan Chamberlain and his children. Pamela would enjoy the company of other children.
She would never be able to enjoy the company of Fleur’s children and his—those mythical children who lived in their mythical cottage in a make-believe world.
He could have ended his marriage to Sybil within a year of its making had he chosen to do so. He had not so chosen. He had committed himself to the vows he had made even though she refused to allow him the rights that would have made a proper marriage of it. He had committed himself because at the time he still felt some leftover love for her. And he had done it because of Pamela. So that Pamela would not be a bastard.
Half a commitment was no commitment at all. Either he belonged to Sybil and Pamela or he belonged to Fleur. There could be no double life. Not for him, anyway.
He tightened his arm about Fleur and continued to stare upward.
“What is it?” she asked, turning more fully against him.
He kissed her unhurriedly.
“I want to tell you something before the morning comes,” he said.
“Yes.”
The imminence of dawn was like a tangible thing in the room.
“After tomorrow,” he said, “I will recommit myself to my marriage. I hope I will have the strength to live with that commitment for the rest of my life, with no more lapses. For Pamela’s sake I will hope it.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know, Adam. You don’t have to feel that you owe me anything. We agreed that there was just tonight. And I would not be your mistress even if you wished me to be.”
He set a finger over her lips and kissed her forehead. “This is what I want to say,” he said. “In one way, Fleur, you will always be my wife, more my wife than Sybil is. And physically I will always remain faithful to you. There will never be any other woman in my bed.”
Her lips were still against his finger.
“My marriage is a marriage in name only,” he said, “and always has been.”
He heard her swallow. “Pamela?” she whispered.
“Is Thomas’,” he said. “He abandoned Sybil, leaving her with child. I had recently returned from Belgium and still fancied myself in love with her, or with the person I thought she was.”
She let out a ragged breath.
“From the moment of Pamela’s birth she has been mine,” he said. “I would die for her. If there were any serious question of my annulling my marriage in order to be with you, I would not do so because of Pamela. If the choice were between her and you, Fleur—and perhaps it is—then I would choose her.”
She was pressing the top of her head against his chest.