by Dayna Quince
Jeanie blushed, fiery heat spreading from her head to her toes, her limbs heavy with liquid pleasure.
He had kissed her and so much more. Her body was still weak and passion-spent. She’d never experienced anything like what he’d done to her.
“You can’t tell anyone,” Jeanie begged
Josie folded her arms and leaned forward. “He should be made to marry you. That was the whole point of this party and the reason, I suspect, Violet invited rakes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No one can fall in love in a fortnight. The purpose of inviting such unsuitable gentleman is because one of them is bound to compromise one of us and forced to marry. It’s diabolical and not the least bit responsible as far as plans go, but I have to admit it is rather genius. None of these wealthy gentlemen would marry us otherwise, unless forced to do it.”
All the air seemed to be sucked out of Jeanie’s lungs.
Josie touched her arm with an expression of concern. “I’m sorry. I know you dreamed of having a season somehow. But really, I don’t think it’s a season you wanted. It was the attention. You’re often lost in the mix of us louder, opinionated Marsdens. You’re too gentle, too quiet. You should be more demanding like me or Willa.”
Jeanie swallowed. “You think I just want attention?”
“Don’t be ashamed. Every flower needs sunlight to flourish. We read about those parties and Miss M. and Mr. Q. It sounds exciting, but people are the same. Even if you stood in a crowded ballroom in the finest gown, you would still be you, and you might find those people are even more obnoxious than us.”
Jeanie clenched her fists. “What the devil does this have to do with the present situation?”
She didn’t want to explore what Josie had just said. It stung too much. She was overwhelmed enough, new sensations and feelings clamoring to be dissected and analyzed. She shook her head.
“Never mind. Just swear to me you won’t utter a word about me and Lord Luckfeld to anyone.”
“He’s taking advantage of you, don’t you see? You’re an easy target for a man like him.”
Jeanie’s eyes began to sting. “Promise me, Josie.”
Josie’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Josie wagged her finger. “But I don’t trust him and you shouldn’t either.
Jeanie nodded, but she feared her emotions ran far beyond trust.
She wasn’t like her sisters, impulsive, reckless, so if she was losing her heart to him, so much as to throw caution to the wind, she must be falling in love with him. It would seem sudden to Josie if Jeanie confessed to her feelings, but Josie didn’t know that the falling had been slow and steady since the dance they’d shared at the ball last spring.
“Come back with me.” Josie took her hand and pulled her back the meadow.
Lord Selhorst and Luc followed.
Luc.
His name suited him perfectly.
She didn’t want to return to the meadow, to the bright sun and chatter of the other guests. She’d rather stay in the wood where it was quiet and cool. She wanted to sit and relive her first taste of passion over and over. But they must return, and when she and Luc returned to their blanket to collect their belongings, she found it hard to meet his gaze.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his expression clouded with concern.
“I think so.”
“I can’t apologize enough,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have let things go so far.”
“Don’t.” Jeanie reached over and touched his hand where it rested on the sketchbook. “I don’t regret what happened. I can’t.”
He flipped his hand under hers and their fingers interlocked. “I won’t regret it either.”
“I want you to keep drawing me,” she said. It might be the only way for them to be alone, and when the party ended, the drawings would be all that was left of what they had shared.
“The tower?”
She nodded. He must have guessed her thoughts.
“Are you certain?”
She was, she’d never been more certain of anything. She couldn’t explain it. Why was she so eager to throw every caution to the wind for this man?
Because I am in love with him.
She chewed her lip, her eyes watering. Then she remembered what he’d said about noticing she did that and stopped. But then she smiled. He’d noticed and that pleased her to no small end.
Perhaps Josie was right. She wanted to be seen but not by hordes of people, just by him. She wanted to be singled out, to be loved.
And even though he could never say the word, or marry her, he’d already done it. He’d made her feel like one in a million, not just one of nine.
He wasn’t using her. He cared about her, so much he’d drawn her as his only way of keeping her.
Maybe he was falling just as hard as she was.
Her heart swelled to rib-bruising capacity, and the bittersweetness of her thoughts made it hard to breathe.
“I’m certain. There is only so much time before the party ends,” she said.
His jaw tightened, his cheekbones standing out in relief.
“It will never be enough,” he said. They had to part ways. Josie and Selhorst were waiting for them.
“The nursemaids are here,” Luc said.
Jeanie smiled. “Such astute chaperones they make.”
He offered his arm and a footman folded up the blanket. Holding her sketchbook, she accepted his escort back to the cart. Josie watched them carefully, as did Selhorst. Jeanie went from being nearly invisible amongst her sisters to being watched. She hid a giggle behind her hand, and Josie narrowed her eyes at her.
Reaching the castle, she returned to her room to change and wash the dust from her face after the cart ride. She wondered if Josie would come and interrogate her again, but she didn’t and Jeanie had a few blessed moments alone to reflect while she was supposed to be resting and dressing before dinner.
She changed into a fresh dress, this one yellow with little embroidered flowers of yellow rattle. She’d always loved how the flowers looked like little dragons. She could only do a hand full of flowers on the bodice due to the cost of thread.
Once she was done changing, she couldn’t sit still. And since most of the house was preparing for dinner, Luc might go to the tower and… She was out her door before she considered the madness of it. Reaching the steps to the tower she carefully climbed, the clatter of glass bottles reaching her as she approached. The door was partially closed, but she held her breath and pushed, and there he was, already changed for the evening, squatting before the open trunk.
He paused as he saw her, and Jeanie halted in the entry to the tower. He stood slowly, his gaze wandering over her.
Jeanie’s heart galloped like a horse gone wild, set free at last. The fine hairs on her arms stood up, and it seemed like every part of her wanted to reach for him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms.
But that would be…not like her. Too bold, too revealing of her yearning, desperate heart. And entirely something Bernie or Georgie would do. They would take no prisoners, they would… She should do it.
She’d already waited a lifetime to meet a man like him. Was she going to accept defeat? Would she sit down and watch her one chance at love drift away like a lost dingy on the sea?
She’d spent many years dreaming of this moment, but dreaming never got her anywhere. Things would never change if she wasn’t willing to break free of her fantasy and reach for what she wanted.
Reality was harsh and unforgiving, but so much better than fantasy. She’d touched him, felt the passion that could be found in his arms, and there was no going back. Her dreams would never sustain her again. She’d lived a passive life, sitting in the same chair every day, bent over gloves, dresses, stockings, stitching away as if the man who lived in her head would magically appear at her door.
But she knew now she would have to do something if she want
ed to keep him.
Something brave.
Something that might risk her heart.
Her knees were wobbly but once she was moving forward they steadied, and she walked right into his arms. She came up to her toes and kissed him, perhaps stunning him at first, but then he took over, his arms binding her to him, his mouth slanting over hers.
She opened her mouth, tasting his wild hunger that matched hers.
She wasn’t alone.
Whatever this was, he felt it too.
It couldn’t be ignored now.
Somehow, some way, Jeanie was going to find a way to make it work. They would be together. She’d do whatever it took.
She just didn’t know what that entailed.
He swept her into his arms, and as the world flipped and rotated, he set her down on the chaise and lay on top of her.
The contact of his full weight made every fiber of her body rejoice. She arched up to him, her breasts and her sensitive nipples begging for more. His hips aligned with hers, and her body cradled him naturally as if made for exactly this, for him. Between them, she could feel his hard manhood pressing into her body, and the nerve endings there at the apex of her thighs sent jolts of acute pleasure shooting through her like fireworks.
She couldn’t keep still beneath him, not when moving was a symphony of sensation and delight.
His tongue filled her mouth, and his body moved against hers, hardness to softness, heart to heart.
Her pulse thrashing in her ears, her lungs wouldn’t fill with enough air to sustain her. Her head floated, stars dancing behind her eyelids as he stole her breath, kissing his way down her neck, the slight scrape of his night beard adding an edge to her arousal.
Arousal.
Such an alien word to her.
She was consumed by it, this new, carnal yearning.
And now she understood how women were swept away by men like him, how one moment one knew the proper boundaries, and the next nothing else mattered but the next kiss, the next encounter.
And she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to lose herself in this new version of her. She arched her neck, giving him access to the delicate skin of her neck, but he moved lower, biting the edge of her bodice and pulling it below her breasts.
She couldn’t breathe. Air wafted over her nipples and she couldn’t look away as he devoured her with his gaze. Her nipples furled into tight buds as if shy under his scrutiny.
He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipples, and the caress was so divine she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
But then he licked her nipple and her mind exploded. Her happy nerve endings burst with rapture, and Jeanie couldn’t stop a gasp. He did it again, this time slowly, sucking her nipple into his mouth and a half moan, half groan escaped her. Her skin lit on fire, her embarrassment warring with sheer pleasure.
He grinned into her skin. “You like this.”
She nodded. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. She didn’t want him to stop, but she couldn’t watch what he was doing. She was scandalized, but dear God she loved it. She wanted to grip his head and hold him to her breast like a brazen wanton.
He moved to her other breast and payed similar homage to that nipple. He took his time, lapping at her skin, trading between licks and kisses until he’d wound her body so tight she thought she might snap.
She gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his fine black coat.
“Please, Luc, make it stop. I can’t bear it anymore,” she begged.
His hips moved against her, the hard ridge of his arousal riding against her core, and her knees spread apart of their own accord. But there were still layers of clothing between them. Too many. She couldn’t get close enough and yet…
She groaned, her skirts bunched between them and the friction against her womanhood set her on fire. She blazed with ecstasy and before she could draw a full breath, sweet release crashed through her.
She shook, her body melting, her muscles twitching in her thighs and abdomen.
He came up onto his arms.
“You were made for passion.”
She forced her heavy lids to lift and licked her dry lips. She was floating in a sea of liquid gold, heavy, sedated.
“I’m a wanton.”
“You’re a goddess.” He kissed her brow and slid off of her, sitting on the edge of the chaise.
Jeanie sat up, lifting her bodice over her breasts.
She ought to be ashamed but… She felt amazing. As if she’d swallowed starlight and now she was glowing.
He adjusted his own clothing and twisted to face her.
“I thought I’d frightened you away.”
“I don’t think you can now.”
He brushed her hair from her face, his gaze following the movement.
“Is your hair naturally curly?”
“It is. Only three of us have it. Me and the twins.”
His gaze met hers, the liquid fire in his eyes cooling. “This doesn’t change anything. I can’t resist you, but I can’t marry you. I wish… I wish I could, Jeanie.”
She touched his hand and pressed it to her heart. She believed him. She didn’t know how she knew he spoke the truth, but she did. He didn’t have to come to this party. He didn’t have to promise her anything.
He cared for her, desired her, and if he said he wished he could marry her, he meant it.
So it was up to her to make that wish come true.
The how of it still eluded her, but for the first time in her life, she had fire in her heart and was going to do something with it. No more sitting near the wall, staying quiet while others were loud.
She was going to fight for him.
“We’ll make the most of the time we have, Luc.” She wasn’t going to say more than that.
He had a valid reason for thinking they couldn’t marry. He had his own family to support. A wealthy wife was the only way he knew how to do that. Jeanie wasn’t going to waste her breath trying to convince him otherwise. Words would not be sufficient. She had to find a solution.
But for now, their time was up, and her hair was probably a mess. She had to go back to her room and fix her appearance before she could go down to dinner.
He remained quiet, but his hand still held hers.
“I don’t think I deserve you.”
She cupped his cheek. “You do. You’ll see.”
She kissed him one last time and left him there in the tower.
Chapter 16
Luc sat in the tower longer than he should have, but he couldn’t seem to leave the bubble of paradise the tower had become. First he’d drawn her here, and now she’d lain under him here. But once he stepped outside it was over.
He was losing his focus, his mind muddied by his desire for her. But he’d never wanted any woman as much as he wanted her, and clawing deep into the back of his mind was one word he’d never before considered.
Love.
He was in love with a woman he couldn’t marry. He’d tasted her skin, warm silk, salt and honey, and he still wanted more. He wanted an eternity of her.
But it changed nothing.
He still didn’t have the coin to wed her. His brother and sister depended on him, and the only solution he could see was to marry a wealthy wife, but he’d failed during the season, and now… He just couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but Jeanie.
The idea of anyone else left his stomach sour.
Before her, he imagined a pretty-faced heiress he could tolerate but felt nothing for. But now he knew he’d be starving if he left this party without Jeanie. Any woman he wed would only be a shell of the one he truly wanted.
If the viscount were alive, he’d be chortling with glee.
His mother had done this very thing, she’d followed the will of her parents, marrying a titled gentleman she didn’t love while she’d given her heart to a penniless painter. And for once Luc understood just how difficult that decision must have been for her.
How did
his mother do it? Maybe she hadn’t had a choice at all, not with two parents holding her fate in their hands.
But he had neither.
His brother and sister did not know how desperate things had become. He’d hidden the truth. He could afford to wait another year for his sister to debut, but Charlie begged daily to go to Harrow, even though he was hardly prepared for it. The viscount had spoiled Charlie something fierce, lauding it over Luc.
“Charles is my real heir.”
And yet, the viscount had made it almost impossible for the boy to receive a proper education. Luc couldn’t afford tuition to Harrow. He could barely afford the tutor he had now.
And Charlie, though whip smart, had terrible manners and even less discipline.
Guilt racked him.
He should be home. Charlie needed a steady influence. Mr. Baldy was an exceptional tutor, but Charlie needed a male presence who could keep up with him. If not for the few loyal staff Luc maintained, Mrs. Hopper, the butler, Granger, and the footman, Harry, Luc didn’t know how he would have managed to raise Charlie. He wasn’t prepared to be a parent when his mother had died five years ago, only a year after the viscount, and not much had changed now.
Luc didn’t know what to do. Everything in his heart begged for Jeanie, but he’d made a promise to care for his siblings. Despite the viscount’s influence and attempts to poison them against him, his brother and sister loved him and looked to him for everything.
He couldn’t let them down.
Luc scrubbed his hands over his face and stood. He was going to be late for dinner as it was.
Entering the dining room, he made his apologies to his hosts and claimed his seat. Josette was beside him, and he imagined that was done intentionally by her.
He nodded in greeting. “Miss Josette.”
She returned his nod, her eyes narrowing slightly, “My lord.”
He took a hearty sip of wine.
“You seem piqued,” she said.
He set his glass down. “Not at all.”
“Your shiny veneer has worn thin, I see.”
He paused, the pool of soup on his spoon splashing back to the bowl. He set the utensils down and checked his clothing for spots. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his tone low and not at all friendly.