Page 21 of Prescription for Sin

"Perhaps." His hands settled on her waist of their own accord, not pulling her closer, just steadying them both. "Though I find myself less interested in teaching than in..." Words failed him as he nuzzled the spot behind her ear, discovering new notes in her personal perfume.

"In what?"

"In discovering every note of your fragrance." The hoarseness in his voice betrayed his crumbling control. "In learning how it changes with each breath, each touch, each..." His lips brushed her earlobe, unable to resist. "Taste."

"Mr Hughes..." The way she said his false name should have brought guilt, but he was too far gone in sensation.

"Hush." He inhaled deeply again, memorizing this moment. "Just feel. Notice how your scent mingles with mine? How they create something new together?"

Their combined essence filled his lungs with each breath, making him dizzy with want. His hands tightened on her waist as desire threatened to overwhelm duty.

"We should stop," he forced out, though his body screamed in protest.

"Should we?" She turned her head slightly, bringing their faces dangerously close.

For a moment, neither moved. Then sanity reasserted itself, and he stepped back abruptly, breaking the spell.

"That's enough for today's lesson," he managed, his voice unsteady.

Her eyes flew open, dark with unfulfilled promise. "But we've barely begun to—"

"Trust me," he cut her off, knowing if she pressed, his control would shatter completely. "Any more would be...risky."

He watched understanding dawn in her eyes as she took in his state. Her own body trembled with barely contained need as her eyes widened at his arousal.

"Tomorrow then?" The professional mask she attempted couldn't hide the hunger threading through her voice.

"Unless you object?" He couldn't help but smile at her attempt at composure.

"That would be acceptable." She smoothed her skirts with trembling hands.

"Until tomorrow, Miss Brown." He turned to leave, needing escape before he did something unforgivable.

"Mr Hughes?"

"Yes?"

"What will you teach me about tomorrow?"

The naked want in her voice made him close his eyes briefly. "That would spoil the lesson, wouldn't it?"

Her soft laugh followed him up the stairs. In his borrowed room, he pressed his forehead against the cool window glass, trying to regain control. What the hell was he doing? Every moment with Emma pulled him further from his purpose, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Her scent lingered on his skin, lavender and desire and dangerous secrets. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would remember his duty. But for now, he let himself drown in memories of her lips quivering beneath his almost-touch and the way she'd offered her throat like an invitation to sin.

Chapter eight

Danger

9December 1840

Dearest Emma,

For heaven’s sake, do not retreat into that clinical shell of yours! Some opportunities are too precious to sacrifice on the altar of propriety. You are thirty, unmarried, and have found a man who stirs your blood, yet you wish to end it because you’re frightened of feeling something?

Let me tell you about fear, darling. I entered my marriage bed as innocent as a spring lamb and look where that got me. Henry had no idea what to do with a wife, and I had to resort to using lard just to endure our conjugal duties. To this day, the neighbourhood dogs chase me thinking I’m a walking rasher of bacon! Do not sentence yourself to such ignorance.

A man who makes you forget yourself is precisely what you need. Your patients will still be there, your practice will survive, but chances for encounters like this are rare indeed. Seize it with both hands, dearest. And then write me every detail so I might live vicariously through your adventures!