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He worked so hard to hide this side of him, but here it was, all tenderness

She loved it

She loved him

And he would never accept it

She froze at the thought, lifting her head, afraid to hts His hands tightened around her "Did I hurt you?" The question was hoarse, as though he couldn’t bear the idea

She shook her head "No"

Heto pull himself from her "Penelopelet meI don’t want to hurt you"

"Michael"

And then, because she was too afraid to speak--too afraid that if she allowed herself to speak shethat he did not wish to hear--she rocked against hi the way his head tilted back, eyes narrowed to slits, teeth clenched, neck corded with unyielding control She repeated the motion, and whispered, "Touch me"

At the words, he released his control and finally, finally hed at the movement, and he stroked deep, beautifully deep, all pleasure and perfection Theyher, as her hands settled on his shoulders, and she leveraged herself above hi, soive

And he gave it in longer, deeper strokes "Beautiful Penelopeso hot and soft and glorious," he whispered at her ear "When I watched you coht die with the pleasure of it You’re beautiful in ecstasy I want to bring you there againand againand again" His words were punctuated by his thrusts, by his hands stroking along her back, across her shoulders, down again to cup her bottouide her, beautifully, on him

"Michael, I" And then his hands were on her, between them, and he was so deep, and she could not finish the sentencebecause that strange, re up in front of her, and she’d never wanted anything so much as she wanted to reach it

"Tellher everything she did not know she wanted Needed

I love you

So the words as pleasure rocketed through her He tu her name in the dark room

Chapter Twenty

Dear M--

I’m in a bit of a reflective hton Debacle" as my father likes to refer to it, and I’ve turned down three proposals--each less appealing than the last

Nonetheless, my mother continues to ferry h she could somehow erase the past with a few yards of silk or a whiff of bergao on forever, can it?

Worse, I continue to write letters to a specter and iine that, one day, replies will arrive in the post

Unsigned

Dolby House, November 1829

Letter unsent

"Gooseberry fool"

Penelope did not lift her head from where it lay on Michael’s shoulder, her blond hair spread around the your pardon?"

He stroked one warh her "So polite" He leaned over the edge of the chaise, not wanting to disentangle hirow cold in the large roorabbed his frock coat froet to his wife, and pulled the navy wool over theainst hiht his breath at the feel of her, soft and silk against him "Gooseberry fool," he repeated

"That’s not a very nice thing to call your wife," Penelope said with a little sh after e just did, I ooseberry fool over you"