by Eliza Knight
“I have a surprise for you,” she murmured as they passed through the door to the castle and started to walk down the corridor. Guards lined the walls, though they pretended not to notice them. “I was able to use your childhood Latin book to decipher the few legible words on the Gladius by the hilt. The wording along the rest of the blade was too scratched up for me to make out.”
Interest gleamed in his eyes. “Tell me.”
“It read Theodosia— Crimson and embers… Then perhaps four undecipherable phrases before it ended at: With dreams only of you.”
“Beautiful.” His grin was genuine, but she could tell by the lines furrowing his brow that something else disturbed him. “With dreams only of you… That line was etched onto my mother’s ring.”
“Fascinating, really.”
“I’m proud of you, Maxwell.”
She wanted to hear him say her name again. The way it sounded rolling off his tongue made her sigh with pleasure.
As they passed an alcove, he tugged her into it. She gasped, but he whirled her to face him, his expression serious.
“When my father passed, my mother started to go mad.” He spoke rapidly, as if he needed to get it all out before his lips were forced closed. “She’s tried to jump from her bedchamber window many times now. At first, I believed if I got the relics back, that I could help her, but I’ve come to realize that no amount of metal, no matter how it’s fashioned or inscribed, can help her.” He shook his head, his features showing his devastation. “She has been sick with grief and she’s just now starting to come out of it. I fear that if I return them to her, it will only send her down another spiral.”
“Sebastien, I had no idea.” She shook her head with empathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to hold you to your promise to give me the relics, Maxwell, but there is something I learned days ago, and I cannot hold back any longer. I must confess.”
She swallowed hard, her breath leaving her, heart fluttering behind her ribs.
“I love you. I love you so much that you’re my first thought upon waking and the last before I fall asleep. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my entire life, and I cannot stand that tomorrow you’ll choose a man to marry and that I might not be that man.”
Max’s heart dropped to her feet, then leapt up somewhere above her head. She squeezed his fingers. “I want you to be that man, Sebastien. As much as I tried not to, I’ve loved you from the moment I saw your boots peeking beneath my father’s curtains.”
“I do not think the relics are cursed, rather blessed since they are what brought us together.” He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them one by one.
Elation filled her. “And we are doomed to love one another.”
“Forever.” They spoke in hushed and hurried whispers.
“Eternally bound. With dreams only of you.”
“’Tis a fate I can live with. Gladly. I will bury the sword. Let your father keep the ring. ’Tis too much of a risk that my mother will find it.”
“Where will you bury it? At Hadrian’s Wall?”
Sebastien shook his head. “Nay. Not where a thief can find it. I will bury it in the gardens of Rayne Hall.”
“I’ll help you.”
“We’ll bury them as man and wife. Do not deny me this time, Maxwell. Marry me.”
Max swallowed. Over the past several days, she’d come to realize how much Sebastien filled her life. There was no way she could ever live without him.
“I cannot deny you, for denying you would be slamming the door on my own heart’s desire,” she said breathily, thrilled to have finally confessed her heart.
Sebastien brought her fingers to his lips once more and a tingle wound its way around her middle, traveling all the way to her toes.
“From the moment I stood behind that curtain and heard the melody of your voice, faced off with you and saw the fire of your spirit, there was no turning back.”
Her heart pounded in her ears and excitement burst inside her. “Even when I denied you, when I said you were the last man I’d marry, I lied.” She smiled, teasing. “You are a thief, for you stole my heart.”
“The first and only prize I’ve ever thieved, and I’ll not be giving it back.” And then he kissed her again.
Chapter Twelve
Three weeks later…
“I have a confession,” Sebastien whispered as they stood side by side at the altar, their wedding ceremony about to begin.
Max widened her eyes, her gaze on the priest as he opened his prayer book.
“I have to tell you… The queen, she ordered me to court you.”
Max stiffened. Was this all still a ploy? His words of love… No, they couldn’t be false. She refused to believe it.
“She overheard you tell me I was the last man on earth… I think she knew before the both of us that we were in love.”
The priest raised his hands and blessed them.
“The queen knows all,” Max whispered back, a smile of joy filling her face.
“Indeed, she does.” Sebastien winked.
They quieted, other than the repeating of their vows. When the priest announced they were husband and wife, the crowd of courtiers cheered and followed them down the aisle path to the spring sunshine.
A feast was prepared at Rayne Hall, though Max could have done without that part of the celebration. She’d not been allowed a moment alone with her husband since the moments they’d spent in the alcove the night they’d confessed their love, and truth be told, she was desperate to be alone with him.
Her father had been pleased that she’d chosen a husband well above her station—which he repeated continuously and she ignored—and he was even more pleased that he didn’t have to part with the poesy ring. Sebastien loved her and he did not think her to be such a burden as her father did.
As they rode their horses back to the house, she glanced over at Sebastien, proud to call the handsome man her husband. Her husband! All hers.
Several ladies at court had broken hearts because of that.
Sebastien caught her gaze and smiled. “My lady wife,” he said. “You are the most beautiful creature in all of England. The world, in fact.”
“And you, my husband, are the most handsome of men in all the world. I am very lucky.”
“Nay, nay, Countess of Bedford, ’tis I who am lucky.”
Sebastien’s mother had not been well enough to attend their wedding ceremony, but when they arrived at the estate, the dowager countess stood upon the grand entrance to greet them. Max stared up at the impressive building and around at the courtyard. Rayne Hall was easily three times the size of Thornton House.
“Your mother is looking well,” she murmured, noticing how relieved Sebastien appeared to be at seeing her.
“Indeed, and I think it is your doing.” His voice was filled with wonder.
“Mine?”
“She needed something to look forward to, and the idea of a new daughter and, in time, grandchildren, has renewed her spirits.”
Children! The thought sent another wave of excitement through her. How much her life had changed. Soon, Sebastien had told her, the queen would be sending him abroad again and he was going to allow her to accompany him.
Groomsmen came forward to help them from their horses, and while their guests dismounted, Sebastien and Max walked up the wide stairs to greet his mother.
“My lady.” Max curtsied.
“Oh, my darling, you are beautiful,” the dowager said, tugging her to stand. “You’ll make my son a fine countess.”
“I am most pleased to be his wife.” Max sent him a sideways glance and a small smile.
“’Tis I who am pleased and honored.” He winked, sending a thrill through her. “Mother, would you mind showing our guests into the great hall? I’ve a need to be alone with my wife for just a moment.”
His mother gave a knowing nod and Max’s belly did a little flip. He took her by the arm and led her inside h
is grand estate. A butler bowed to them, along with a housekeeper and a line of staff.
“Bims, Mrs. Gram,” he nodded to the line of staff. “Let me introduce you to your new countess, my wife, Lady Maxwell de Rayne.”
’Twas the first time she’d heard her new name and her stomach did another little flip. The line of staff murmured their congratulations and salutations, but Sebastien didn’t wait much longer. He led her up a circular, marble stair, past the great hall where a portrait of his mother hung over the hearth, and down a corridor. When he opened a door, he led her into what looked to be his study. The walls were lined with books and portraits of past de Raynes. A massive, polished, oak desk flanked with wood and leather cushioned chairs was near the hearth. But he led her toward a matching pair of settees, tugging her down beside him on one.
“I had to have a moment alone with you,” he said.
“I thought we wouldn’t until the very last guest left.”
Sebastien traced the line of her jaw, his gaze on her lips. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
She shook her head, her eyes slipping to his mouth. “Nay. I pray you don’t find me too forward, but I’ve waited weeks for you to kiss me again.”
“And I shall kiss you every day for the rest of our lives.”
Sebastien leaned forward and brushed his mouth over hers. Max melted against him, the still fresh feelings of excitement burning through her. Every day—for the rest of their lives.
She gently touched his shoulders, trailing her fingers over the back of his neck to toy with his dark hair.
“I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”
“I love you, too,” she whimpered.
Sebastien deepened the kiss, utterly possessing her. Every inch of skin tingled and she longed to stay here with him the rest of the day. To let him kiss her for hours. He tasted sweet and smelled of spice. Boldly, she ran her tongue over his lip, twined her tongue with his. She’d learned fast how to kiss him back.
Sebastien let out a groan that sent a ripple of pleasure from her lips to her breasts, then her core, settling between her thighs. She yearned for more. To be closer.
“Oh, love,” he whispered, his lips trailing from her mouth to her chin and the side of her neck. “I love your scent, like spring blooming flowers.” He grazed his teeth over her collarbone.
Max let out a moan, and then leapt a little in his arms when he caressed over her ribs, his palm cupping her breast.
“I want to kiss you everywhere,” he murmured.
Max’s mouth fell open in pleasure, eyes wide, as he kissed the top of her breast. Decadent sensation heated the spot, then her entire body as he tugged enough on her gown that her nipple was freed and his wicked tongue swirled around it.
“Sebastien,” she moaned. “What…?”
“Does it feel good?” he asked. “My kiss?”
“Yes, but is it… right?” Max knew nothing of kissing, only that when wedded a man would take his wife to bed, and their parts would meld. Without a mother to teach her, she was innocent to most ways of the flesh.
Sebastien pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “You are so innocent.”
She swallowed, starting to feel self-conscious. “My mother died when I was a baby.”
“I will teach you everything. And yes, this is so right.” He kissed her breast again, and Max sighed, arching her back.
She did like this. A lot.
He moved to give her other breast equal attention and she squirmed. She was suddenly hot all over, and a pulse had started in her core, a need that made her restless with wanting.
“We must attend our feast, but we will not stay long. I want to spend the rest of the day making love to you.”
“In the daylight?”
“Oh, yes, my love. And the night, too.”
Her breath escaped her. Sebastien fixed her gown and pulled her to standing, and though she walked with him toward the great hall, her mind was back on the settee, enjoying the touch of his lips on her skin.
She could eat little as toasts were made, songs were sung, dances were danced. Finally, Sebastien gripped her hand and she leapt to her feet. She ignored the cheers as they hurried from the room, up the stairs and down another long corridor. When they entered the master bedchamber, a maid waited to help Max undress.
“I will do it,” Sebastien said.
The maid looked startled to hear it and Max was, too. How would he ever get her out of all of her clothes?
“Trust me,” he whispered and reached for the lacings on the front of her bodice.
Eyes on his fingers, she watched him make quick work, until the heaviness of her gown felt loose.
“See? Not so hard,” he murmured.
Next, he tugged at the lacings beneath her arms until the sleeves of her gown were unfastened and he slid them off.
Of a sudden, Max felt completely at ease. She turned so her back was to her husband and waited. A moment later, his fingertips brushed over the back of her neck and trailed down her spine.
He worked with nimble fingers removing her skirts, farthingale and petticoats until she stood simply in her shift, corset, stockings and slippers. Though it was spring, she was thankful for the small fire in the hearth, which left the room warm. She shivered at the weightlessness of being disrobed and at her husband’s close proximity. Resting his fingers gently on her shoulders, he leaned over her and kissed her neck.
“You’re even more lovely than I imagined,” he whispered.
“You imagined?”
“I admit I’ve had thoughts that sent me to confessional.”
Max laughed. “Impure thoughts, Lord Bedford?”
“Deliciously wicked.” The low growl sent a delicious thrill humming over her skin. The sensation was reminiscent of their kiss under the stars weeks before.
Max slowly turned, her breasts brushing over his chest. Boldly, she looked up into his eyes and said something that was not at all proper for a wife. “Show me.”
Sebastien’s mouth fell open, but he quickly recovered himself, looking very pleased. He slipped his arms around her waist and hauled her against his hard length. “Maxwell, love, I cannot tell you how much you please me. I want to show you everything. I want you to enjoy every moment.”
“Yes, please,” she said, tipping her head back for his kiss.
His mouth claimed hers, demanding, urgent, and then soft and loving. Back and forth he went, sending her up in a whirlwind of sensation, delicious, wondrous. She wrapped her arms around his neck, toyed with the hair at his nape, all the while allowing herself to succumb to the pleasure he brought her.
Sebastien growled in the back of his throat and dipped to lift her in his arms. He carried her to the bed where he lay her gently down. He stared down at her, his eyes filled with yearning, lips as red and wet as hers felt.
“I shall buy you another,” he said, pulling a knife from his belt and slitting the laces of her corset before she knew what he meant.
Instant relief filled her and sweet air poured into her lungs. She watched in amazement, curiosity and with deep hunger as he tore at his own clothes, revealing a chiseled physique and leaving her quite breathless again. Wide shoulders, a flat muscled belly, corded arms and narrow hips. And… His erection… She’d never seen…
Max gasped, feeling a hot rush of desire and panic come over her.
She tossed her corset aside, noting how heavy her breaths had become.
Her eyes were wide and glued on his body. What did a woman do with a man’s body? How did he fit?
“I cannot wait to have my skin touch yours,” he murmured, slipping onto the bed beside her. “I want to go slow, but I fear if I do not touch you soon I will die.”
All the emotion and sensation that somersaulted through her was overwhelming, and she simply nodded, needing to feel the contact in order to slow her racing thoughts. But the moment his body slid against hers, the opposite occurred. Question after question, worry after worry.
The
length of his arousal pressed hard to her thigh. Where would it go? How did this work? Was she ready?
“What’s wrong?” Sebastien asked, nibbling at her chin.
She swallowed, not wanting to seem ignorant, but fearful all the same. “I… don’t know what to do.”
He pulled back, seeming to remember all of a sudden that she was an innocent.
“Oh, love, I’m sorry.” He tugged her hand into his, threading their fingers. He bent forward and kissed her. “You’re doing so well. You kiss like you were meant to be kissed. I will teach you everything. You need not be scared.”
“I trust you,” she said against his mouth.
Sebastien kissed her until her breaths came in pants, and she rubbed her legs together in an effort to ease the ache that grew at the apex, but it only grew.
He skimmed his lips over her neck, nipping gently at her collarbone. Unlacing her shift, he opened the fabric, staring in wonder as her breasts were revealed.
“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Breasts were meant to feed a child, and yet he’d kissed them before, and she’d liked it. He was kissing them again, tongue swirling over her puckered nipple until her back arched, and she tugged at his hair. Whimpers escaped her lips. She was flushed red, hot and shivering.
Sebastien kissed his way to her belly as he tugged the fabric of her shift up over her legs, exposing the heat of her sex to the room. She shuddered again, trembling with a need for more and worry over whether she’d please him.
“Sit up,” he urged gently, tugging at her arms.
When she did his bidding, he pulled the remainder of her shift off and tossed it to the floor, then he pulled her against him, her breasts crushed to his chest. Both of them let out groans at the contact.
This was wicked, sinful, but so amazing.
“Sebastien…” she crooned. “I love you.”
“Oh, Max, I love you so much.”