‘Ohhhhh.’ She tipped back her head, arching her back, as his teeth grazed her nipple and then lightly nipped. She squealed.
‘You like that, my little dove?’
‘Ohhhhh, yes...’
He moved on to her other breast and her words drifted into silence. He explored without haste, his fingertips drifting along the sensitive skin of her inner arm, from wrist to elbow, raising shivers in their wake. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses—accompanied by appreciative murmurs—from breast to neck. Desire gathered, like a bud swelling, the pressure building deep inside her, and she closed her eyes—reaching,savouring every minute, every second, aware of nothing but him.
Zach.
The feel of him, the weight of him, the scent of him.
Intoxicating, evocative, manly.
His body was all heat, a solid pressure over her and against her, and yet not heavy. She raised reluctant lids—watched his almost fierce expression as he concentrated on her...on her body...on giving her pleasure—and her heart blossomed with a feeling like nothing she had ever known. Then he looked up, capturing her gaze, and—with a wicked smile—he pressed high with the leg that parted her thighs. High and hard.
That swelling bud of anticipation—deep inside her core—grew tighter...impossibly, gloriously tight. Then his hand was on her leg, stroking upwards with a delicate, knowing touch. She moaned as he reached the slick folds between her thighs and her breathing fractured as he played—stroking and swirling. One finger invaded her and she froze but, as he penetrated deeper, and stroked inside, she welcomed the feeling of him inside her and when he withdrew her body clenched helplessly around the sudden void.
Then he touched her again. Pressed. And she arched, crying out as that bud finally flowered and pleasure exploded, streaking through her. She collapsed back, every muscle and bone in her body turned to water, and then she was drifting on a lake of serenity, in a dream, aware only of the pulsations of that tender flesh, slowly diminishing.
Zach murmured low and deep in that musical language she did not understand. He gathered her to him, then he settled down, with her in his arms. Safe. Gradually, her breathing slowed and steadied. He watched her closely, his dark eyes enigmatic.
‘I gave you pleasure, little dove?’
She smiled and reached to brush his hair back from his brow. ‘You did. Although...’ She felt her brows knit. ‘We did not... You did not...’
She knew there was more, but she could not bring herself to speak the words. She knew how the animals mated. He kissed her—a slow, drugging kiss that melted her insides anew and stirred her desire. She kissed him back, hard, hooking her hand behind his head, feeling that sense of urgency build again. It was Zach who broke that kiss.
‘If you cannot be mine, gadji, I will not take your innocence.’
Cecily absorbed those words and a great sadness invaded her. If you cannot be mine... And she could not. Of course she could not.
She eased from his arms and forced herself to sit up, folding her knees sideways under her so she faced him.
‘I am thirty years of age. It is way beyond time I should be called an innocent even though, in truth, I am.’
‘Nevertheless...’ He said no more, but she could hear both his regret and his resolve.
She sighed. She could not fault him, or disagree. ‘You are right. If I wish to marry, whether it be Kilburn or another, then I should go to him whole.’
Her conscience—her moral compass—would allow nothing less.
‘You must not choose him. I cannot bear the thought of you with him.’ He stroked her cheek, brushing strands of hair back from her face.
She stared up at his grim countenance. ‘What are you not telling me?’
He frowned, then shook his head. ‘I am asking you to trust me. He is a cruel man. Do not accept him, if he asks again. He is not worthy of a passionate, loving woman such as you. Choose another man for your husband—a good man.’
He levered himself up on to one elbow, his stormy gaze searching her expression. Her heart squeezed and regret scoured her.
‘Choices are few for a woman of my age, Zach. I want a family and Kilburn is my best hope. Tell me why he is not a good man. Give me a reason to refuse him.’
He sighed, his gaze lifting to stare into the flames. Again, she had the sense of him waging some inner battle. Then his lips firmed, he sighed again, and he returned his eyes to her.
‘I knew him. When I was a boy. He and—’
He paused. Sat up and wrapped his arms around his bent knees, staring once again into the flames. Cecily sat up, too, and put her hand between his shoulder blades, circling, soothing.
‘He made my life hell when I was a boy. Him and one other. I have seen neither of them since I was sixteen years of age.’
Cecily hesitated, fearful of saying the wrong thing. But there were too many anomalies for her not to question him.
‘When you were sixteen,’ she said, ‘he must have been—’
‘Twenty-four. Yes. Old enough to know better.’
‘Better than what?’
He shook his head again. ‘I have said enough. You do not need the details—’
‘But...it makes no sense. You are constantly on the move. You cannot have come into that much contact with him.’
His eyes were bleak when he turned to her. ‘The contact was sufficient for me to know the truth of him. You do not know him. I have never lied to you, dove. Trust me. Please.’
She shook her head in frustration. ‘You ask me to make a decision about my life and my future based on the vaguest of accusations. Wedding Lord Kilburn would be no different for me than for countless other women of my class—a marriage of convenience with advantages for both sides. Were you and I two different people, from similar backgrounds, I could love you, Zachary Gray. But we are not and, having met you, I now find myself...strangely indifferent about my choice of husband.’ She swallowed the tears that filled her aching throat. ‘Being unable to choose you will be the biggest regret of my life.’
She rose to her feet, and straightened her clothing. Every inch of her yearned to stay with him despite knowing she could never embrace the Romany life. And duty...family...expectation...drove her on. She must return to her life as the perfect lady. Zach had risen as well and he folded her into his arms. His body shook, as though he reined in some strong emotion—or perhaps it was the trembling of her own body she could feel, vibrating through him and back into her. His warm breath stirred the hair at her temples as they stood, holding one another, for the longest time. Eventually, she stirred. His arms tightened around her as she leaned up to kiss him.
‘I cannot stay. We both know that.’
He released her then and let her walk away but, when she looked back, he was following. He would not allow her walk back alone, she knew. But she understood it was too hard for them to walk together. She walked on, back to Leyton Grange and to her life of duty, restraint and respectability.
* * *
Zach heard them coming early the next day. Men on horseback. At least four of them. He stood tall and straight. Outwardly relaxed, but holding himself ready.
Five men rode into the clearing, Kilburn at their centre. The others—and Zach breathed a sigh of relief—had the look of labourers and grooms. Not a posse of vigilantes then. No self-righteous crowd of townsfolk, eager to chase the thieving gipsy from the area.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
The surprise on each face gave him some satisfaction. Let them wonder at this gipsy who spoke like a gentleman.
Kilburn nodded at one of the men, who dismounted, a basket clutched in one hand.
‘I promised Lady Cecily I would bring you provisions for your journey,’ Kilburn said.
The man crossed the campsite and placed the basket on the ground.
Zach inclined his head. ‘I am grateful for the provisions, but I fear you labour under a misapprehension, my lord. I plan no journey.’
/>
Kilburn’s eyes narrowed and he nudged his horse forward until the beast was standing right alongside Zach, who did not move. He stared up at Kilburn, his arms folded across his chest.
‘If you know what is good for you, gipsy, you will go. Today.’
‘And why, my Lord Kilburn, are you so very keen to see the back of me?’ Zach described a sweeping arc with one arm. ‘What harm am I doing? What possible threat am I to you?’
‘Threat?’ Kilburn barked a laugh. ‘A common gipsy is no threat to me. But I do not appreciate your association with my betrothed. I want you gone.’
‘Your betrothed?’ Anger throbbed in his veins. The man lied. ‘If the Lady Cecily is truly your betrothed, then you can have no reason to threaten me. One word in her ear will be sufficient to ensure she confines herself to the Leyton estate.’
Too late, Zach realised his recklessness in challenging Kilburn, and far too late he registered the light of recognition dawning in those deep-set eyes. Kilburn’s brows beetled over the bridge of his nose and he peered closer at Zach, who held his gaze, head high. He would not back down, even though he now teetered on the edge of a precipice.
‘I know you,’ Kilburn said slowly. He peered closer. ‘But where—?’ His jaw dropped. He turned to his men and waved them away. ‘Get back to work.’
Kilburn did not speak as he watched his men ride out of sight, giving Zach a few minutes to realise that the other man did not want anyone—even his own servants—to discover Zach’s true identity. Kilburn slid from the saddle and faced Zach.
‘Graystoke?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘Zachary Graystoke? What...?’
Zach waited.
‘Does Cheriton know? Or Lady Cecily?’
‘Do they know what?’ Zach turned to feed another log to the fire, his mind racing. Where would this lead? What would it mean, for him? For his future? ‘Do they know that my brother drove his stepmother and his sixteen-year-old half-brother away in defiance of our father’s dying wish that he protect us?’
Kilburn paced across the camp and back again. ‘Do they know who you are?’
‘That,’ said Zach, ‘is none of your business.’
‘By God, you have a nerve, sir. Charming your way into the life of a trusting lady such as Lady Cecily. I suggest you leave and leave today. You can be certain I shall write to apprise your brother of your deceitful attempts to inveigle an acquaintance with the Beauchamp family. If you refuse to leave at my command, you will not dare defy your brother.’
Zach allowed a slow smile to stretch his lips, relishing the fury it prompted in Kilburn’s expression. ‘You forget I am no longer a stripling with no power to withstand my brother, Kilburn. I am a man grown. And if I choose to remain here, in this place, then neither you, nor Thetford, nor even the Prince himself, will change my mind.’
‘My letter shall be sent by the swiftest means possible, Graystoke. If you are so unwise as to remain in the area, you may expect a visit from Thetford within the next two days.’ He thrust his face close to Zach’s, a sneer twisting his mouth as he said, ‘Do you still have your mark, gipsy boy? Perhaps you wish for another? Heed my advice. Leave, while you have the chance.’
Zach watched Kilburn strut away, his mind full of the plan that had begun to take shape in the hours since he had seen Cecily safe back to the Grange. He had inherited a small, unentailed estate—Edgecombe—from his father, and it had been under his control since his twenty-fifth birthday. His brother—his half-brother—no longer held the purse strings. What if he and Cecily were to marry? He would at least have something other than the Romany way of life to offer her. She had said herself that she did not much care for London and society—they could settle at Edgecombe, hidden away from the damning eyes and opinions of the haut ton. They could keep the whole world at bay.
But would she agree? Or would the risk of being estranged from her family, as well as society, be a step too far for her?
Chapter Fourteen
The enormity of what had nearly happened hit Cecily as she waited, sick with nerves, for Kilburn to call. She would have given herself to Zach, seized with a kind of madness that drove her on, reaching for the promise that seemed to flutter just out of her reach. It was Zach who had shown restraint. Even now that same restless yearning toiled deep inside her as though trying to find its way out of her body. Just the thought of him set her pulse skipping and her heart lurching. Then she thought about doing those same unimaginably intimate things—and more—with Kilburn and her stomach clenched.
But it will be different with Kilburn. It will merely be breeding, like the animals in the fields.
She must simply learn to separate her mind and her feelings from the physical process. It was no more than many a wife must do when she harboured no tender feelings for her husband. But when she relived last night—how Zach had made her feel and how she felt now—she felt even less ready to accept Kilburn even though her head still told her it was the right path to take, despite the misgivings fuelled by Zach’s warnings.
She paced the salon to the window that overlooked the carriageway. She wished Kilburn would make haste—she could not abide this waiting. She looked at the clock on the mantel. Almost noon. He must have visited Zach by now. What was keeping him? Had Zach gone yet? Did Kilburn force him to leave? Her throat thickened and she diverted her thoughts. Waiting. Waiting.
The door opened. Parker entered and bowed.
‘Lord Kilburn is here, milady.’
‘Thank you, Parker. Please show him in.’
Now the moment had arrived she felt strangely calm. This was her choice. She yielded her hand willingly when he carried it to his lips.
‘Lady Cecily, I trust you are none the worse for your adventure yesterday?’
There was no hint of nervousness on his face, just supreme confidence and an abundance of male satisfaction. He was utterly assured of his own worth and that she would accept him.
‘I am indeed none the worse,’ Cecily said. ‘And might I enquire whether you delivered adequate supplies to Mr Gray this morning, as promised?’
His lips tightened a fraction. ‘Why is it you are still concerned with his welfare? You saw for yourself yesterday that he was recovering.’
‘I should like further reassurance, however, my lord, for my brother will certainly wish to know his friend was in good health when you saw him. You did visit him?’
‘Yes, I did, first thing this morning, as promised. I then had urgent correspondence to send via the London mail coach, or I should have attended you earlier.’
She reined in her irritation. She couldn’t care less about his correspondence. ‘And did you find Mr Gray well?’
‘I did. His camp was all packed up and I watched him leave. You will not be troubled by him again.’
Her heart cracked and pain ripped through her at the thought of never seeing Zach again, never feeling his arms around her; his lips on hers. She gritted her teeth and stood straight, folding her hands before her. To reveal any emotion at this news would only raise Kilburn’s suspicions.
‘I am pleased to hear of his recovery and I know Vernon and his new wife will also be relieved. Thank you.’
‘Now, enough of that heathen. I believe you know the question I am about to ask you.’
Cecily lowered her eyes as he once again took her hand.
‘Lady Cecily Beauchamp, will you do me the great honour of being my wife?’
Cecily willed herself to remain calm, her years of experience in navigating awkward social situations coming to her aid. She lifted her gaze to his. There was no ardour in those grey eyes, merely the light of lasciviousness as his own gaze dropped to her décolletage, followed by a hint of impatience as it rose again to meet her eyes.
‘I am sensible of the honour you do me, sir, but before I give you my answer, I have a request of you.’
His expression turned stony. ‘And that is?’ He released her hand and took a turn about the room, halting again before her. ‘I trust
you are not playing fast and loose with my affections, madam.’
‘That is not my intention. But you know—you must know—after all, I refused your offer earlier this year, so surely we can dispense with any pretence that this would be a love match?’
His eyes narrowed. Then he inclined his head. ‘Go on.’
‘It is a practical arrangement—one that suits us both. I should rather have that openly acknowledged between us before we proceed. You require a mother for your children.’
‘And another son. At least.’
‘I understand. And I, for my part, wish for the status of a married lady and a house and a family of my own.’
‘Then what is there to discuss? We are agreed, are we not?’
‘We are, but my request is that we delay our formal betrothal until the end of the month. In the meantime, let there simply be an understanding between us. I should like the opportunity to tell my family in person and, as you know, Vernon is currently on his honeymoon.’
‘When do you expect his return?’
His impatient tone, and a hint of desperation, puzzled her. She had glimpsed the same after she refused his original proposal. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Kilburn’s gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there, making her feel a little sick. She released her lip and strove to keep her voice level.
‘Vernon and Thea will arrive in London in a few weeks, before travelling on to Brighton for the race meetings. Once I have told them, our betrothal may be announced.’
‘Can you not write to them?’
‘I should prefer to tell all my family face to face. And no doubt you will also wish to discuss the settlements with Leo first? There is surely no need for an unseemly rush?’
A muscle tightened in his jaw, suggesting there was something of which she was unaware—some reason why he wished to wed her sooner rather than later. Could it be that Vernon was right and his debts were bigger than was commonly known?
‘And I do not wish for any hint of our understanding to reach my aunt, if you please,’ she added, ‘for she will be certain to announce it to all and sundry before I have the opportunity to inform my family. As we both intend to return to London shortly, we can discuss the matter with Leo then.’
Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray Page 14