She thought back to the first moment when she’d opened her eyes after hitting her head. She had been happy to learn he was her husband. And he… had acted cautiously toward her. He’d been protective, caring, and affectionate…
At her request.
“Do you regret marrying me?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he answered quickly. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t care that I’m a lady. I don’t care that you don’t hold a title. I just wondered if perhaps it bothered you.”
“It doesn’t,” he denied with a shake of his head. “But I wish I could give you everything you want.” Disappointment filled his voice.
But all she wanted was him! Had she demanded more before her injury? Her mouth went dry at the possibility that she’d been so stupid.
“Tell me more about your childhood.” She leaned her head against him, not wanting to contemplate deficiencies in herself that she wasn’t currently aware of. She’d have to face those soon enough. “Did you get high marks?”
As the day wore on, they stopped a few times to water and rest Poppy, eating the rations Mrs. Hettrick had packed for them, and talking about anything that avoided both her past as well as what awaited them in the future. They even waded in one of the streams, splashing one another.
When the sun began to set, however, rather than begin watching for an inn, he pulled the horse off the road into another thick cluster of trees.
“Is someone coming again?” She twisted on the bench to search the road, and then back around, confused, when no one approached. “Shouldn’t we put off stopping until we arrive at an inn for the night?”
“We aren’t staying at an inn.” Rock kept right on driving through the trees until finally reaching a small clearing.
“What do you mean, we aren’t staying at an inn?” Tabetha glanced around again, thinking there must be a small house or cabin.
“They’ll be watching for us.”
His words gave her pause. Because, of course, he was right. But…
“Where will we sleep?”
He jumped off and proceeded to untether Poppy. “We’ll have the grass for our bed and the stars for our canopy.”
A silent battle commenced in her mind. He was right, but she couldn’t sleep outside in the elements. She was a lady.
But she was a different person today. She didn’t care if her husband was a prince or a pauper. The woman whose husband had told her he loved her—the one who had spread her legs for him earlier that afternoon—acknowledged that sleeping outdoors could possibly turn out to be a most romantic adventure.
Only… “What if it rains?”
“It won’t,” he answered and then swaggered back to the gig and grasped her by the waist before swinging her onto the ground.
“I am glad of your confidence.” She couldn’t help but laugh when he suddenly sent her twirling and then drew her back into his arms. “You’re mad.”
“For you.”
She wasn’t quite sure why he suddenly seemed so… cheerful and unconcerned, but she was more than happy to go along.
When he held her, swaying gently under the twilight sky, she imprinted all of the sensations she was feeling onto her heart.
She was acutely aware that she was happy and in love. And it rather made her feel like she was witnessing a once in a lifetime event, like an eclipse of the sun, or an erupting volcano.
And when it was over, she would be left with only a memory.
This wasn’t something she’d ever expected to find. They rocked together, lost in a world where they were the only two people who mattered.
“I hope our children’s eyes are blue, like yours,” she said.
“Let’s hope they have your nose, though.” He leaned forward and inhaled, his breath, warm as it ghosted over her neck.
She tilted her head to the side, inviting his exploring kisses. “Did you dance with me? At my come out?”
“You granted me a single set.”
“Only one?”
He pulled back and pressed a closed fist to his chest. “My little heartbreaker.”
“Never!” she vowed. She didn’t remember anything about their wedding, so she promised him, “I’ll never break your heart.”
His throat worked, as though overcome with emotion.
“I wish I could remember—the day I met you, our first kiss, the moment you proposed.”
“You will.”
Despite how the morning had started, and despite having to hide from an evil duke, the two of them had had a most satisfying day together. Tabetha’s heart leapt, because she hoped they would go on to have a most satisfying night.
Because rather than burying her memories deeper, his… intimate attentions had summoned some of them to the fore.
Rock stared up at the sky and then sighed. “We’d best set up camp before dark.”
In that moment, she would have agreed to anything. “What do I need to do?”
Holding her hand, he walked her into the trees, showing her which twigs and sticks would burn. They had to be dry. Dead.
“How many will we need?” Tabetha released his hand to scour the ground for their supply.
“As many as you can find.” He stole one quick kiss before returning to where he’d parked the gig.
After making several trips while he used a rope and folded canvas to build a makeshift shelter, she hovered beside him, watching as he spread a second canvas over the ground, and then a quilt for the two of them to share. The second quilt he’d retrieved from the pack on the gig was immediately claimed by Archie.
“Let’s see what you’ve found.” Rock sorted through the treasure she’d collected and then went about arranging them. He sparked a flame to the kindling on his first attempt, impressing Tabetha as she watched him nurture the flickering spark into a full-fledged fire. She thrilled watching his hands work, knowing that not only was he efficient at performing manly tasks, driving a horse, and beating villains to a pulp, but those hands were more than capable of providing her with the most illicit pleasure imaginable.
While they worked, the sky had turned its darkest blue, almost black. A few stars already twinkled and the forest, where she’d been wandering a few minutes before, was now a maze of dancing shadows. An owl hooted in the distance, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Will it burn all night?” She wasn’t afraid, not with Rock beside her, but she wasn’t altogether comfortable.
“I’ll keep it going. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” She hadn’t realized until he asked.
He turned around then and grasped the handles of the basket they’d been digging into throughout the day. Tabetha’s mouth watered as he drew out some cheese, bread, fruit, and then a bottle of wine.
“We’ll have to both drink from the bottle as there aren’t any glasses.”
“Food has never looked so wonderful to me.”
“You worked hard.” He winked at her as he sliced an apple in half.
She stuffed some of the cheese into the bread and then bit off a piece of her makeshift sandwich. “I’ve never done anything like this before, have I?” she asked as he handed her a section of the apple.
“I don’t think so.” He studied her. “You like it, though, don’t you?”
Tabetha was glad she’d ignored the niggling part of her that would have complained and resisted such accommodations. She didn’t need a soft mattress, a maid, a bath, or perfumes. All she needed was…
Her husband.
“I am quite enjoying watching the particularly thorny twigs get eaten by the flame.”
“Ah, yes. Wicked little buggers. We’ll burn those first then.” He tossed another one on top and then popped a bite of fruit into his mouth. His gaze didn’t leave her face, though.
“What? Why are you watching me like that?”
“You keep surprising me.” It was almost as though he was thinking out loud.
“In good ways, I hope.” She tore
off another piece of bread. “I have a feeling I’ve never eaten so much food in one sitting in my life.”
“I doubt you have either, and yes. In good ways.”
“How have I surprised you?”
But he simply shook his head vaguely. “You are stronger than I imagined.”
“And?” She knew she was fishing. She was flirting. Like they had at dinner the evening before.
“You certainly aren’t prude.”
“Did you think I would be?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“But now you know.” Tabetha held his gaze. She most definitely was not prude. Could he guess her thoughts by the look in her eyes? Feeling flushed, she edged away from the fire and onto the quilt. “Not being prude was good for my memory,” she reminded him.
He didn’t answer. Was she pushing too hard again?
“We finished off most of this.” He deliberately returned the linens and empty bottle to the basket. “Tomorrow, we’ll have no choice but to stop in one of the villages to purchase more rations.”
“Perhaps we can find some milk for Archie,” Tabetha suggested.
Rock was squatting on the blanket beside her, dangling his hands between his knees. “I’ll find milk for Archie. But we’ll need to keep you out of sight.”
He was staring at her again, as though trying to come to a decision. Tabetha licked her lips, knowing precisely what he was thinking.
“What will you do if you see one of them?” It was possible that the duke’s henchmen would want to exact revenge for the beating Rock had given them. “What if they ambush you? What if they have a pistol?”
He grimaced and then grinned. “Are you worried about me?”
“There is only one of you, and who knows how many there are of them!”
“You don’t think I can handle them?” He dropped his knees to the ground, crawling toward her with a menacing expression.
The sounds of his fists slamming into those villains were unusually vivid.
“You will handle them,” she admitted, her breath catching.
“And how will I do that?” The menacing tone of his voice thrilled her.
She was on her back now, pinned by her husband, who was crouching over her with a wicked glint in his eyes. She wiggled, pretending to try to escape, all the while staring into eyes the color of the sky at twilight, breathing in his scent, and relishing the feel of his thighs pressed against hers.
“Will you pound them?” Her voice trembled.
“Absolutely,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“And knock them out cold?” Tabetha grasped the sides of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair.
“But of course.” His mouth trailed over her jaw.
“Will you kiss me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 20
Surrender
Stone claimed Tabetha’s mouth. He’d decided to claim the rest of her and then changed his mind for the thousandth times since they’d stopped to make camp.
And then he’d changed it back.
What some of London’s best fighters had failed to do, Tabetha Fitzwilliam—nay, Tabetha Spencer—had managed to accomplish in less than a week.
Because Stone, a man who backed down to no one, was on the brink of surrender.
She was a spoiled debutante, one who had dismissed him more times than he could count. He swept his tongue behind her lips and she caught it with her teeth.
She’d mocked him with this pretty little mouth—for his lack of title—his lack of refinement. She’d foolishly run off with Culpepper to elevate her position.
But she’d realized that had been a mistake. Why?
This duchess obsession of hers, he suspected, couldn’t be motivated by her own wants, Someone had convinced her it was something she needed.
But who?
There was so much more to her--to this woman who’d moved into his heart.
Whoever she was now was also a part of who she had been before. And the person she was now loved him. The person she was now wanted him.
“Tabetha.” He drew back. He needed to tell her everything first. She needed to make this decision knowing the truth. He would risk losing her, risk losing this tenuous connection that had developed between them, but it was better this way.
She wriggled beneath him. “Make love to me, Rock.” She arched her back, straining to capture his mouth again. “I want you. I want all of you.” Her hands roved down his sides and then around his middle, clutching at him.
His straining cock begged to be released, and the siren beneath him answered the call, unfastening his trousers and tugging them down.
He could tell her everything afterward.
“So much.” Her throaty entreaty broke his last vestige of restraint.
“So damn beautiful.” The memory of the soft flesh he’d tasted earlier remained vivid in his mind. One hand lowered her bodice while the other pushed up her skirts. She assisted him by raising her hips off the ground and, with a frenzied efficiency, the two of them managed to remove every barrier between them. His mouth at her breasts, his cock at her entrance.
“It’s too fast. I should go slow for you.” He made one last attempt.
He’d wanted her first time to be leisurely. He should draw it out slowly, ensure that she was wet and open and ready to take him in.
“No.” Her hips bucked. “This is us. Take me, Stone. Now. I want all of you.”
The temptation was too great. He nudged himself inside, no more than a few inches. She was so tight and soft, like velvet.
“Yes.” His virgin bride would drive him to madness. He allowed himself a few more inches, waiting to feel her relax and adjust around him. Her eyes were open now, and she was gasping, gazing up at him.
She was a gift.
“Tell me if it hurts too much.” Had he already hurt her with everything he’d done? The last thing in the world he wanted to do was cause her pain. “I’ll stop.”
Even if it killed him.
“No. Don’t stop.” She begged. “I want more of you.” Her skin glowed silver in the moonlight.
“I’ll give you everything.” He edged in deeper. “My brave girl.”
Her eyes rolled back before focusing on him again. “I’m yours,” she breathed.
“Mine.” She was sensitive. Generous. Kind. Desirable as hell.
“You’re mine,” he vowed. He couldn’t stop from claiming her with his words any more than he could stop from claiming her with his body.
Deeper. Her lashes fluttered and pinched shut as he filled her completely.
Sensual. Sexy. Passionate.
“Yours,” she gasped, not asking him to stop but imploring him to move faster, harder, deeper. Wild abandon claimed them both. Not caring about anything but this woman beneath him, Stone moved in and out in a satisfying rhythm, thanking the heavens when she shuddered in relief because there was no way he could have lasted even a second longer.
Only after spending himself and then collapsing beside her did he realized what she’d said.
Take me, Stone. Now. I want all of you.
What did that mean?
She moaned and turned onto her side, running her hand down his shoulder. “I think I’m going to like being married.”
Stone pulled her close and pressed his mouth to her forehead. “I think I’m going to love being married.” He’d lost all grasp of reality.
And he didn’t care, at least until she realized he wasn’t good enough.
If her memory wasn’t restored by morning, he would tell her everything. He needed to tell her everything regardless. He reached for the quilt and drew it up and over them both.
“I love you, Stone.”
Stone stiffened, waiting for her to realize what she’d said. But she only nuzzled him again, her breathing coming steady and even.
She’d told him she loved him but when she learned the truth, would she still feel the same? Was the love they�
��d found together going to be enough?
Chapter 21
Between a Rock and a Stone
Tabetha lay on her back, staring up at the midnight sky, listening to Stone’s breathing, deep and even beside her, feeling his chest rise and fall to the same steady rhythm.
He was not Rock Chester. He was Stone Spencer, the man who’d done his very best to frustrate her at every turn since the day she’d made her come out.
And she had married him in Scotland, not because they were madly in love, but because they’d both been drunk as wheelbarrows and decided it was the best way to save her from Culpepper. She even remembered waking up the morning after. She’d marched out of the room and fallen down the stairs in a fit of temper.
He turned onto his side, pulling her closer.
Stone Spencer had promised Westerley he would watch over her because he’d lost a bet. Her heart missed a beat, but she forced her breathing to stay even.
How much of it had been a lie? The name was the one they’d checked into the inn under. And they were legally married. But why had he gone along with her belief that they were in love with one another? She pinched her lips together.
She had literally thrown herself at him. No wonder he’d been distant after she’d joined him behind the privacy screen.
Which parts of everything he’d told her were lies, and which parts were true?
She’d all but demanded he consummate their vows.
Still, he had known the truth all along and failed to share it with her.
She rolled around and buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent, feeling as though this was precisely where she belonged. Only he wasn’t the husband who’d married her for love. How could she feel this way about Stone Spencer?
What an idiot she was! Had been? Was going to be again?
She had been so happy as her other self. She’d been free as Tabetha Chester. That happiness hadn’t come from wearing the most fashionable gown, or having the most suitors, or marrying a stupid duke.
Why then?
One week ago, she had been ninety-nine percent certain she would feel whole after marrying Culpepper—a man who was vile, selfish, and cruel—merely because she would have the status her father would have been proud of.
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