“No, I am not,” she said eventually. It had to be said, it was the harsh truth. Though she regretted her words the next moment when she saw the look on Markus’ face – there was sadness there. She wished she could claw the words she had spoken back from the air and force them within her once again, pretend it had never happened, yet Markus’ pain could not be undone. “But I am your good friend, Markus. Now,” she turned to the door. “I expect the carriage is waiting for the two of you.”
She hurried towards the door, desperate to urge their departure as soon as possible.
This cannot be happening!
Loftus’ initial astonishment was quickly turning into other thoughts.
Markus spoke – he spoke to her! It has worked! Augusta has helped him overcome his fears after all. She has saved him from the demons in his mind.
His overjoyed thoughts kept coming as he clutched his son tightly in his arms. With this progress, his boy could be happy again, comfortable around women and lead a normal life.
It was Markus’ face when Augusta answered his question that had Loftus’ mind working quickly, as fast as a galloping horse. The devastation on the child’s face was almost too much for Loftus to bear. He held the child even closer to him as he followed Augusta from the room and into the hallway leading to the grand entrance.
My poor boy, you need a mother.
The realization cut him deep. Markus needed not only a mother in his life, but someone different from Maria. She had never been the mother she should have been to Markus and clearly the boy had built up ideas of Augusta being his new mother.
Loftus’ eyes drifted from the boy in his arms towards Augusta who was marching ahead in front of them to the front door.
Markus should have someone just like Augusta as a mother.
She would make a wonderful mother. He had known that when they had been betrothed eight years ago, but the happenings of the last couple of weeks had proved it. She was excellent with Markus; she was kind, loving, and intelligent.
What more could I ask for in a mother for my son?
His feet fell still in the hallway as he watched Augusta arrange with the footman the departure of the carriage.
Why could I not marry again?
He could. He smiled as he looked at Augusta, a new desire leaping within him.
Loftus’ son needed a mother, and, in truth, he knew that he wanted another partner, a woman’s touch. No one else but Augusta could fit that description better. He had never desired anyone else since he had first danced with her at that ball eight years ago, where she had laughed at his jests and held tightly to his hand, those hazel eyes turned up to him.
She drove him equally mad and overjoyed. He was crazy in his pursuit of her.
What better wife could I ever hope for?
He had made up his mind. He would ask her to marry him again, and this time, they would not go through the heartbreak of eight years ago.
It will be different this time.
He looked to Markus in his arms. The boy had his arms around Loftus’ neck, holding tightly to him.
“Markus,” he whispered to the boy whilst Augusta’s attention was busy preparing the carriage, ensuring she could not hear him. “Miss Creassey and I need to discuss some important matters. Would you be all right to return with our footman home, and I will follow you later?”
The boy bit his lip and looked down from his father, then he opened his mouth, going to speak again.
“She said…” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
“I know, son,” Loftus whispered and kissed his son’s forehead. “Miss Creassey is a part of our lives now. Don’t you worry about that.”
As Augusta returned to the door with the footman, both looking expectantly towards Loftus, impatient for the departure, Loftus made his announcement.
“Herring, could you take Markus back to the house please?” He placed Markus back on his feet. “There is a matter I need to discuss with Miss Creassey before I depart.”
“Of course, my Lord.” Herring held out his hand to the boy and Markus took it eagerly, waving up to Miss Creassey in departure.
Augusta quickly corrected on the look of shock on her face and waved too.
“Goodbye, Markus. I shall see you tomorrow, yes?” To her happy words, the boy nodded in reply.
The moment the door closed behind the footman, Loftus watched as Augusta’s face fell. She covered her mouth with her hands again, as though she could not bear what had just taken place.
“Augusta?” He walked toward her, insistent now, he had to speak to her. Yet, to his surprise, she walked away from him.
“Whatever matter you wish to discuss I am certain can wait for another time, please depart,” she gestured to the door. Her dismissal and the way her hazel eyes were fixed to the floor made his anger grow.
“You wish to turn me out with such rudeness?” He half laughed at her.
“I am reeling with surprise, Baron Bardolf,” she snapped her head to him, her face a picture of irritation. “Markus just…” She did not finish her sentence. She turned away from him again. “Please leave, leave me alone to my thoughts.” She walked past him, returning to the drawing room, but he followed her, pursuing her every step.
You cannot escape from me so easily this time.
“I will leave as soon as I have said what I need to say,” he followed her as she walked around the room. She attempted to put some furniture between them, keeping distance. He abided by it, so that both the divan and the settee were between them, making the distance great indeed.
“Then speak it quickly,” she urged with a gesture of her hand, clearly impatient for his departure.
“Clearly my son’s words just now have upset you –”
“They did not upset me they just…” She turned on the spot, as though searching for the right word in the room around them. “He just startled me!”
“They stunned me too, but they have had another effect entirely that I must speak to you about,” he persisted, prompting her to return her bold hazel eyes to him. “It is abundantly clear to me that Markus likes you a great deal. Beyond that, he is attached to you.” To his words, she clutched her chest with both hands. The image brought a new thought to his mind. “From your response just now, I would also say that you are attached to him too.”
She turned away from him, tilting her head to the ceiling.
“He is a lovely boy,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “Anyone would be mad not to dote on him.”
“Not everyone does, but you clearly do,” he walked around the furniture, trying to close the distance between them. As she realized what he was doing, she walked the other way, putting the distance back until they had swapped places. “Before Markus spoke just now you and I were both confessing to not being impervious to one another. We both desire each other still.”
Augusta looked at him, as though trying to calm her countenance, her hands now on her stomach. Loftus leaned over the back of the divan, resting on the back to hold her gaze with his own.
“What if the two of us were to court again?” He kept his voice low and clear, desperate to stop the anger that seemed to keep returning between them.
“Again?” She repeated in surprise.
“A second chance.” He confirmed with a nod.
“But –” She became fidgety, turning in a circle.
He grew afraid of her saying no and decided to keep talking, as though he could delay her rejection of him yet again. He was not sure he could handle hearing her rejection of him a third time.
“Listen to me, Augusta,” he walked around the furniture, this time when he closed the distance between them, she did not try to escape from him. “If my talking of desire upsets you so, then listen to the facts of the proposal instead.” Her eyes shot up to him, mere slits as they narrowed in confusion. “Why can we not discuss courtship again? We are both unattached now. You are good with Markus, excellent in fact. It is still an eligible cou
rtship. Are these not all sensible reasons for us to try another time?” He had thought being practical might appeal to her, but she looked away again, her expression crinkling with almost despair.
“You talk as though courtship is a business discussion,” she walked from him, but he did not let her escape.
He took hold of her hand and pulled her back towards him. She spun round instantly, her face alight with surprise.
“Then shall I go back to speaking of passion instead?” He closed the distance between them. He placed his other hand on her waist and pressed their bodies together, unable to be away from her.
She gasped, looking at how they were connected before her eyes slipped up to his.
“You said before that we were both lost in our passion last week in the storm,” his green eyes darted between hers, waiting to see her reaction with expectation. “If we were married, then it is something that we never need be ashamed of. We could explore our desire for each other.”
“Explore our desires?” She repeated the statement with a small shake of her head. “Listen to yourself, Loftus,” she kept shaking her head, but she had used his Christian name. A slip of the tongue that revealed more to him about her temptation to agree than she was willing to express with words. “For all I know, desire is temporary. What would happen to a marriage between us when it burnt out?”
“You called me Loftus,” he smiled, his hand holding her to him from her waist.
“I did?” She looked surprised at her own mistake.
“You did,” he laughed again. “Besides, if our desire has not faded after eight years of being apart from each other, then I am not concerned it would, as you say, burn out. Wouldn’t you like to know what could happen between us?”
She did not say anything. She stared at him, biting her lip. Then her eyes drifted down to his lips. It was the only encouragement he needed.
He closed the distance between them and passionately kissed her.
Chapter Eleven
Augusta did not object as Loftus deepened their kiss. It was full of instant heat. Augusta was filled with urgency, pulling at his arms, desperate to keep him kissing her.
She did not want to think of his words. Did not want to think of what Markus had said or Loftus’ suggestion that they court again. She was too consumed by the heat they shared and his suggestion that they could explore it together.
She felt the backs of her legs against the divan – she had barely noticed he was walking her backwards, she was too busy holding onto him. He toppled her over the chair, and she fell against it with him on top of her.
Their kiss parted briefly, both staring at one another. She was reminded of their moment in the summer house eight years ago, when their hands had gone wandering, only this time, she did not want to stop.
He returned his lips to her, begging entrance as he nipped at her bottom lip. She gladly relented. As his tongue touched hers, she gasped into his mouth, her body pressing up against him.
Her hands started pulling at his coat again, only this time she was going for the buttons, desperate to remove the garment from him. There had barely been a night over the last week where she had not gone to sleep thinking of what such a moment could be like. She was tired of imagining. She wanted to know what it was really like.
As she flicked the buttons free, she went to pull the coat from his shoulders. He parted from their kiss momentarily, leaning up in order to help her remove the coat then he tossed it to the floor. As he returned to their kiss, she wound her hands in his hair, marveling at the softness of the brown locks and using it to hold him to her, desperate just to keep kissing him.
He moved his kisses, releasing her lips and travelling down her neck. She gasped, trying to quieten the sounds she was making as he nipped a spot between her neck and collarbone. She arched against him, as though she could not get enough of his touch.
She was very aware of his hands clutching her waist, practically spanning it with his fingers. It was such an intimate position, yet she wanted to be closer to him, needed to be.
Her hands went to his waistcoat and she unbuttoned the first one. He growled in the back of his throat in reply and lifted his kisses.
He looked around the room briefly, his green eyes darting.
“James is not due home for a while, is he?” He asked, his voice husky, a tone she had never heard him use before.
“No,” she shook her head, wishing he would stop talking and just start kissing her again.
“What of the staff?”
“There are two maids below stairs, that is all,” she explained. She reached up to him and kissed him again. His hands around her waist tightened, holding her to him before he pulled away.
“Bedchamber,” he said simply, looking at her with wide eyes.
She bit her lip for a moment, understanding the full meaning of his words. She thought about refusing, but after all, she was the one trying to remove his clothes and she wanted to know what it would be like to be with him. At least then she would not be driven mad by her imagination.
Perhaps this is the way to get you out of my system – to free myself from thinking of you.
She nodded in reply, causing him to smile.
He leapt to his feet off the divan and took hold of her hand. She led him out of the room, not even looking back to see his expression as she did. In the corridor, she briefly looked up and down the hallway and to the stairs, but there was no sign of anyone around. She led him up the staircase, holding tightly to his hand. The hand was warm beneath her touch as their fingers laced together.
At the top of the stairs, she led him to her chamber, hurrying inside and constantly glancing around for fear of discovery. Once she closed the door, she released his hand, breathing a sigh of relief that they had not been seen.
She turned back into the room, ready to find him again, but he beat her to it. He was but a hair’s breadth from her. He kissed her and pushed her back against the flat of the door, molding their bodies together. She slotted perfectly against his own, her body tingling with each place where they were joined.
One of his hands was on the back of her neck, tilting her head sideways to give him better access to kiss her. His other hand was on her waist. As the hand began to rise up the side of her ribcage, her breathing became stuttered with anticipation, wanting to see where the hand would travel.
He took hold of her ribcage beside her breasts, barely caressing the side of her breast with his thumb. It still made her take a sharp breath, surprised at the tingle of excitement that coiled in her stomach from such a simple touch.
She pulled apart from the kiss and placed both hands to his waistcoat, desperate to remove it from him. He helped her. Within moments, the waistcoat had gone to the floor. Next was the shirt and the cravat. He made quick work of the cravat, tossing it too to the floor as she began to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, pulling it over his head. He helped her with it, flinging it to the side with his other clothes.
As his chest was released bare to her, she pulled back her hands for a second, bracing herself against the door behind her as she looked at him. He was not as she had pictured him. He was more toned, the broadness of his shoulders and the carving of muscle made her wet her lips before she drew her eyes back to his.
He smiled, clearly seeing the way she was looking at him and returned to her for another kiss. She pressed herself towards him, away from the door, thinking briefly how so little parted them now. Just her own clothes and his trousers. He seemed to make the same realization.
He pulled her away from the door, into the middle of the room and turned her around until her back was to his front, hurrying to untie the fastenings at the back of her dress. It came away easily.
Augusta closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the chiffon material being dropped past her shoulders and over her arms, along with his hands, just barely brushing her skin. The path his hands had taken left heat behind them. Soon, she felt the whole co
vering of her skin were alive with that heat.
The dress fell to the floor at her feet with a soft thud, prompting her to open her eyes again. She stepped out of the dress and her shoes at the same time. Next came the short corset, his hands urgently pulled at the lace on her back, trying to free her from it. When it came away, she was amazed how much deeper she could breathe. Her breathing had grown even heavier, just thinking at what could pass between them.
Leaving her in her chemise, he threw the corset to the floor, and it slapped against the floorboards before he turned her back around. He took her waist in his hands, pulling her back to him as he set trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone, urging her to hold back her head, looking at the ceiling to give him better access.
In the Baron's Debt: Historical Regency Romance Page 10