Deveric’s eyes widened. “Dawes? Stoneleigh’s brother?”
“Not your William Dawes. The one from Virginia. My William Dawes.”
He didn’t like the sound of her calling any man hers. Except for me. I want her to call me hers.
“If I wished hard enough, Cat said, if I pledged my whole heart to loving William and having him love me, she thought that might bring me back.”
Deveric’s whole body went rigid. She’d wanted to leave him that badly? For another man?
“But I already knew after only a few minutes on that horse I couldn’t do it, Dev,” she said, her eyes glistening as she traced a finger across one of his eyebrows. “I couldn’t. My heart isn’t with Mr. Dawes. It never will be. It’s with—it’s with Freddy. And Amara. And Becca and Emmeline. It’s with Clarehaven. It’s with this family. But most of all, it’s with you. I love you, Deveric Mattersley. With all of my heart.”
He could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes, a sheen he knew was reflected in his own. He should be careful, shouldn’t touch her, but it was as if a force beyond his understanding pushed him toward her. For a second, his brain recognized it was a force beyond understanding that had brought them together. Then he was dipping his lips to hers, tasting her sweet essence, and all thought was forgotten.
Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling him closer. He gladly acquiesced. He peppered her lips with kisses, and then moved over her cheek, nipping at her earlobe. “What you do to me, Eliza,” he whispered, before returning to her mouth.
She said nothing, merely stroking his face before moving her hand down, unbuttoning his waistcoat, each release sending surges of anticipation through him. Who knew the mere act of unbuttoning could feel so erotic? And then she was tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his breeches. Her fingers slid up underneath the cloth and over his belly, sending shivers through him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him there.
“I love that you have hair here,” she said as her fingers danced across his chest. “Too many men in my era shave all their hair off. It looks weird.”
Shave chest hair? He hardly had time to ponder that curious statement before she was undoing the buttons on his shirt, as well.
“Eliza,” he said, the last bit of reason reminding him now was not the time or the place. He didn’t want to hurt her, to endanger her fragile health.
“Mmm?” she murmured as she planted kisses along his pecs, stopping to lick his nipple.
A zing of electricity went through him even as he tried to pull away. “We can’t.”
At that her fingers stilled. “Why not? Because we’re unwed? I’m not a virgin; I’ve been married before.” A fingernail traced its way across his bellybutton, distracting him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“No. That’s not it. I mean, yes, that’s it, but no.” He sighed, rolling over onto his back. “I can’t.”
She eyed the bulge in his breeches. “Other parts of you tell me you can.”
He coughed, unused to such frank talk. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. But I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. There’s ... too much of me.”
Eliza laughed out loud. Color flooded his cheeks.
“I know men like to boast about their size,” she said. “But I highly doubt that you are too much.”
“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “Mirabelle didn’t care for the intimate side of marriage. She said it hurt.”
Eliza arched a brow. “She’s not the only woman you’ve ever been with, right?”
Deveric closed his eyes. “I should not be having this conversation with a lady.” Running his hand through his hair, he admitted, “No. Of course not. But a few others expressed ... concern, too.” Though they hadn’t complained after, he had to admit.
“I’m not concerned. If a woman can birth a baby, she can accommodate a man. Even a well-endowed one.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.
When he said nothing, she frowned, her brow creasing. “Is that why—” She hesitated, her fingers reaching out to stroke his side again. “Is this what’s kept you from being with me, kept you running? You think you’ll hurt me if we have—if we make love?”
His throat constricted, and he swallowed before answering. “I’m afraid I’ll do more than that. Even if you ... tolerated intimacies with me, the idea of you—” He broke off, overwhelmed by a vision of Eliza swollen with his child. It sent jolts through him, unexpected thrills as much as terror. “Mirabelle died giving birth, Eliza. She died because I insisted on a physical connection, on trying for another child. If I hadn’t done that—”
Eliza’s delicate brows twisted. She was quiet for a moment. “Dev, are you saying you think you killed your wife?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth flattening into a harsh line. “My wife. My daughter.” He swallowed again. “I can’t, I won’t, do that to someone else.”
She traced a finger over his eyebrow, her eyes brimming with emotion. “But she gave birth to Frederick. Were there problems in that birth?”
Dev frowned. “No.” The midwife had assured him everything had gone splendidly, in fact, though Mirabelle had used different terms.
“Then how can you blame yourself? That makes no sense.”
Tears pricked the back of his eyes. “Amara said the same. Emerlin, too. But don’t you see, Eliza? Don’t you see I can’t risk it, won’t risk you?”
“No, actually.”
His eyes widened at her simple, matter-of-fact response.
“Frankly, I think these hips were made for child-bearing.” She snorted before her face grew utterly serious. Stroking her hand down the side of his face, she cupped his cheek as her eyes burned into his. “If we live our lives always assuming the worst is going to happen, that’s not living. I lost my husband. I lost my parents. But I never lost hope I would find happiness, Deveric. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to go on if I had. It’s what ... it’s that hope that brought me to you.”
Deveric lay still, his thoughts and emotions tumbling over each other. He couldn’t believe she was so nonchalant about it all, so unconcerned about the risk to her person. And then what she’d said about not living, about hope ... It rang so true.
At length, he said, “You astound me.”
Eliza rolled over to him, climbing on top and pressing her full body into his. “You intoxicate me,” she said before kissing him again.
He groaned as she moved her lips down across his neck, reveling in the frissons of electricity ricocheting through his body. Could she be right? Mirabelle had birthed Frederick, after all.
He wanted to believe so badly. Or at least one part of him did.
Chapter 39
His hands reached for the laces on the back of her gown. He loosened them and those of the stays underneath, pushing them down over her shoulders.
She sat up so she could pull her arms out of the top of the dress, allowing her breasts to fall free. His eyes widened as he drank in the sight of her.
“You’re so beautiful.” He reached to stroke her breast with one of his hands. “So beautiful, Eliza.”
He pulled her forward again, just enough so that his mouth could taste one of the orbs. She sighed in satisfaction as he moved from one to the other, licking her, suckling her, absorbing the deliciousness of her.
“I want to see you, too,” she said after a moment, her voice coming in small pants.
His groin jumped at her bold statement. Mirabelle had never wanted to see him unclothed. He had frightened her. But Eliza—Eliza was different. Thank God Eliza was different.
“All right.” He hardly believed his own voice. What was wrong with him? Surely he wasn’t going to seduce this woman, wasn’t going to risk hurting her. Trust in this, a voice echoed in his head.
As Eliza’s fingers pushed his shirt over his shoulders and then skittered to the buttons on his breeches, he realized he wasn’t exactly the one doing the seducing. He lay back, watching her face to gauge her reaction to the full o
f him. When he sprang free from the constraints of his smalls, he was sure she’d recoil in disgust. She didn’t.
Eliza, his Eliza, smiled, a gentle smile at first, and then one that turned quite saucy. “This ought to be fun,” she said as her fingers traced up one side of him and down the other. His cock constricted and flexed under her ministrations, and it was all he could do not to flip her over onto her back right then and there.
Slow down. Slow down. “Slow down,” he said. “I want to see you. I want to savor you.”
Eliza’s eyes widened as if surprised, but she stopped, her hand merely holding him. “Slow down? That’s not something I’ve heard often,” she said, chuckling.
A bolt of jealousy streaked through him. “Have you been with so many men?” he said, more sharply than intended.
Her eyebrow winged up. “No. Only two. Not that that’s any of your business, really. How many women have you been with?”
After a moment, he said, “Five. And you’re right; I had no right to ask that. It’s just—the thought of someone else holding you, someone else touching you, drives me mad.”
“Right back ‘atcha,” Eliza answered. “But you’re with me now. And you’re the only one I want to be with.” She leaned down and kissed him again, her lips opening over his. For long moments, they savored each other, tongues dancing and retreating, a meeting of bodies hinting at delights to come. And of souls, he thought.
“Forever,” he said, surprising himself. “You’ll be with me forever.”
Eliza pulled back, an astonished look on her face. But before she could say anything, he whipped her over onto her back, pressing the full length of his body into hers. She moaned.
Instantly, he rolled back off. “I’m sorry.” He scanned her face. “Did I hurt you?”
She bopped him on the shoulder. “No, you idiot. I liked that. I want more of that!”
She reached for him, but he was tugging at her dress, pulling it and her undergarments up and off as she leaned forward to aid him. He drank in the sight of her, his own Eve, a temptation grander than anything Eden’s serpent could ever have offered. “Oh my God, Eliza. You are perfect. Simply perfect.”
Eliza flushed. “Am I not a bit too much?” she said, her voice small and unsteady as she self-consciously touched her stomach.
“No!” he declared, running his hands up her thigh, over her hip, and over the small mound of her belly, moving her fingers away. “You are all woman. Luscious. Ripe.” He ran his fingertips up her abdomen to her breasts. “I’m particularly fond of these. Leave the apples to Adam, I say; I prefer melons.”
She chortled at that, and he was glad to see the doubt leave her eyes. She reached out to him. “Come back to me. I want you.” She wiggled an eyebrow in comical fashion. “Also, it’s darn cold.”
She grinned, her eyes dancing, as he pushed his own clothing off and shoved it over the side of the bed. “Cheeky wench,” he said, covering her once again with his length. He reached for the quilt and pulled it up over them both. “There. Satisfied?”
“Oh no.” She ground her hips against his. “I’m just getting started.”
A guttural sound emerged from Deveric’s throat. Her enthusiastic directness excited him like nothing else. He buried his face between her breasts, delighting in their warmth. Her hands roamed over his back and down over his buttocks, his nerves firing wherever she touched. He pressed against her and in response she made the most delicious sounds, arching up against him.
“Please, Deveric,” she whispered.
Surely she wasn’t ready yet? Surely it was too soon? He reached down between her legs and was surprised to find her soft and wet.
“Yes,” she breathed into his ear. “Yes.”
She moved her hand from his rear to in between them, grasping him and guiding him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then slid into her, slowly, so slowly, as she panted and mewled against him. He gritted his teeth to keep from plunging full in. Please, God, say I’m not hurting her.
“Oh, Dev,” she said. “You feel so—you feel so—”
He waited for her to tell him to stop, waited for her to say it wasn’t going to work.
“—good,” she finished, as she placed both hands on his buttocks and pushed him all the way in.
“Oh God, Eliza,” he cried, relishing the full length of him inside of her. “You’re all right? You’re truly all right?”
“Yes, silly man,” she panted. “More than yes. Now can we stop talking and...” She thrust her hips up against him, letting him know without a doubt what she wanted.
He pulled back and then buried himself in her again. Her skin was flushed, her eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face. “Yes, yes, yes,” he said, punctuating each thrust. “Yes, Eliza, my Eliza, yes.”
Her fingers slid in between them again, pressing against herself just above their joining. He slowed down. “Do you want me to do that?” he asked, his chest heaving.
“No,” she exclaimed. “Just ... harder. Harder!” The sight of her touching herself, the feeling of being in her, the idea that she was relishing this as much as he was, drove him over the edge. Pounding into her, he could feel her constrict around him, heard her own shouts of pleasure. Ecstasy flooded through him. Leaning down, he drew her lips into a fierce kiss.
“I love you,” he chanted against her mouth as the spasms overtook him. “I love you, Eliza James.”
She clutched him to her, savoring every last instant. Oh Lord, Cat, what a man you made for me. She smiled sleepily, chiding herself for thinking of her friend while she lay in the arms of this man. Or underneath this man, really.
She felt his belly contract as he pushed up on his arms before rolling off to her side. Pulling her close, he nuzzled her hair. “I pray you are not laughing at my performance,” he said. “Next time will be better. It had, uh, just been a long time, and—”
She laughed outright before he could finish. “You think I’m complaining? That was awesome. Better than awesome.” She snuggled into his warmth. “I was just thanking Cat for giving you to me.”
“Likewise,” he said with a yawn. “I am full of awe.” His eyelids fluttered closed.
She watched him as he settled into a relaxed sleep. She was tired, too, and knew she should rest. All she’d done for the last week was rest, though. And as if she could go to sleep now, after sharing the most intimate emotional and physical connection she’d ever had.
A flash of guilt zapped her when she thought of Greg. She’d loved him, too. But this was different. This was beyond special. This was a connection surpassing time, a love for eternity. She closed her eyes and settled in next to Deveric, vowing she would find a way to repay Cat for all her friend had done for her.
Deveric awoke to a warm body pressing into him. Eliza. He rolled to his side and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close to pepper her shoulder with light kisses. “Good morning. Or evening. Or whenever it is,” he whispered, his voice husky.
Eliza turned toward him, her eyes flying to the window. Sunlight peeked out from the edges of the curtains. “What time is it? How long have we been in here? Does everybody know?”
Deveric chuckled at the panic in her voice, his fingers dancing over her hip. He’d thought he’d have been the one panicking in this situation, but he felt oddly calm.
“It’s all right, dearest Eliza. Or perhaps I should say, it’s okay. No one will begrudge me a little time with my Duchess-to-be.”
At that, Eliza sat up and stared at him. “Duchess-to-be?”
“Well, of course. I’ve now thoroughly compromised you.”
“We thoroughly compromised each other,” she retorted. “But just because we made love doesn’t mean we have to get married.”
His face stiffened. “You don’t wish to marry me?” Fear constricted his breathing.
“Of course I do.” Exasperation showed through in her tone. “But I rather expected to be asked, not informed.” She sighed, brushing the hair ou
t of her face.
Deveric watched her, this goddess, his goddess, sitting upright in bed without a stitch on. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her stomach. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. He looked up with a devilish grin.
“Oh, get off it. I’m just cold!” She shoved at his shoulder, but the side of her mouth quirked up. She winked at him before lying back down, burrowing under the blankets and up against him.
He stroked her back, pondering all that had happened in such a short time. Had someone told him a month ago he’d reconsider all of his thoughts on love, on marriage, on society, he’d have laughed in their face. He was a Claremont and a Claremont behaved in expected ways.
And then this whirlwind entered his life. Against all possibility, against all logic and rationality, he found himself ensconced in bed—naked—with a woman two hundred years younger than he was.
At that thought, he winced. That hadn’t sounded good. A woman opposite from him in so many ways, but one who had managed to make him feel complete again. It was as if the final piece of the puzzle, missing for so long, had fallen into place at last.
He pulled himself away from her and exited the bed. Eliza gasped—perhaps as much from the absence of warmth as from his unexpected departure; he didn’t know. Worry etched across her face, but before she could say anything, he dropped to one knee.
“Dev!” she exclaimed. “You’re naked!”
“So I am,” he said. He glanced down at himself for a moment and then back at her. “And from the look of things, all of me would like nothing better than to hop back into bed with you right now.”
She giggled, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“But I find myself with a question to ask you.” He pressed his hand to his chest, looking for all intents and purposes like a lovelorn Shakespearean character—albeit a naked one. “Mrs. Eliza James, time-traveler, unpredictable American, adopted cousin, charmer of children, speaker of odd phrases, and other half of my heart. Will you do me the highest honor and consent to be my wife?”
The Magic of Love Series Page 56