Page 83 of In With a Chance

To be outside the ballroom meant to reduce the opportunity for Lady Romeril to notice you. After all, Gwen and Ernest had, hand in hand, strode along the house from the ballroom to a corridor and clambered up the wide, sweeping staircase without meeting a single soul. Not even a footman.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Ernest murmured as they stood there without moving.

“I don’t know why,” Gwen shot back quietly as she pulled him forward. “This feels like the most right thing I’ve done in ages.”

Her whole life, she had sought a connection, a place for herself, a home, a family where she would be the one at the center of it all.

And it was with Ernest, not the Marquess of Ravenshurst or anyone else, with whom she had found that.

“I don’t think we should—”

“I have found the person I want to be with,” Gwen said quietly, halting and staring up at the man she loved. “For the rest of my life. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you right now?”

Ernest’s features softened and he smiled. “Oh, Gwen.”

“And these, I think, are Lady Romeril’s guest bedchambers,” she said quickly, suddenly conscious that they could be found out here in the upstairs room. “I do not believe anyone will come to look for us here.”

The bedchamber was large, and the sound of the door closing behind them had echoed most delightfully. They had walked sufficiently far along the corridor to prevent their conversation from being overheard downstairs, Gwen was sure of it—and though she did not exactly picture them having a much longer conversation, she very much wished to speak.

Or shout.

Or cry out.

One of the three.

“Gwen—”

“If you wish to dissuade me, then I am afraid your opportunity ended approximately three minutes ago,” Gwen said smartly, turning to the man she loved with a grin. “You should not have given me a hint of such pleasure if you did not wish me to gain a taste for it. For you.”

Ernest groaned, but it was not a groan a disappointment, but rather of delight. He stepped over to her, crushing her into his embrace as he captured her lips with his own.

Gwen melted into his arms. Oh, God, I never want to leave this moment.

Except a few minutes later, when she did. “Ernest!”

“I need this gown off you,” he muttered desperately, the hunger in his voice palpable now. “I need to see you—”

“You’ve seen me plenty enough,” Gwen said with a laugh as his frantic fingers attempted to under the ties of her gown.

Ernest’s molten gaze met hers. “Not naked, I haven’t.”

“‘Naked’?” Somehow, she had not considered this—a grave oversight, Gwen could not help but think as Ernest started stripping off her layers with far more expertise than she would given thought to.

Naked, in front of a man?

Even before Ernest, that would be a great commitment. Gwen had never been—that was, no one had ever… She did not expect to—

“Oh, dear God,” Ernest croaked as the last layer was removed and petticoats, corset, stockings, and underthings fell to the bedchamber floor with her gown.

Gwen fought the instinct to cover herself. Well, her hands simply weren’t big enough, for a start. She had always been the more curvaceous of her sisters, and while she personally liked her rounded form, she had absolutely no idea what men in general or this man in particular preferred.

What if he—

“If you are not careful, I shall finish right here in my trousers just looking at you,” muttered Ernest, a tad slack-jawed as he attempted to undo his shirt buttons and his trousers at the same time, all while not taking his eyes from Gwen.

She flushed, and this time, her lover would see that her flush started at her breasts and slowly worked its way up. “Ernest, you don’t have to—”

“What I have to do right now, right this minute, is worship your body exactly as is intended,” Ernest said quickly, almost falling over as he tried to pull his shoes off while his trousers were slipping down his thighs. “What I have to do right now is—what?”