Abigail had, of course, instructed Miss Cutwright not to breath a word to anyone about Mr. Burleigh, but since the other woman's goal in life was to see her charge successfully married off, if Miss Cutwright thought that the businessman was Abigail's best chance of making it to the altar, then she would sing his name from the rooftops if that was what it took to see Abigail married.
So for that reason - along with a healthy dose of guilt at keeping secrets - Abigail had decided to confess all to Adam and accept the consequences.
If she could even reach him that was. Thus far, she had not precisely been successful in that quest.
Deciding to take a moment to get some air before she tried again, she politely declined the multiple offers from gentlemen who sought to fetch her a cup of punch or some other refreshment, and instead made her way into Fairhaven's morning room by way of more of the odd, hidden hallways. Lucy had shown the secret passageways to most of the ladies during a tour of the house upon their arrival and now they served Abigail's purpose well. She could escape from the ball without being seen - or, more importantly, followed by a man who might think to take advantage of her. There were enough of those about tonight, especially with the guests from Crestfield in attendance as well.
When she reached the morning room, Abigail was delighted to find that someone had thought to leave the windows open so that the soft night breezes might blow through the room, hopefully cooling the interior parts of the house. Tonight, unlike the previous nights, the darkness had not brought cooler air. If anything, the air seemed more like soup and she could all but feel the dampness clinging to her skin. It was uncomfortable, especially in the tight-fitting silk gown she had chosen for the evening.
"I thought I might find you here."
"Adam." Abigail turned around, surprised that he had sought her out. "I thought you were still at the party. You are quite popular this evening."
He shrugged and closed the door to the side passageway behind him, indicating that he had followed her out of the ballroom. "I grew bored. There was not enough intelligent conversation to suit me."
"You had plenty of young ladies fawning all over you." Abigail really didn't mean to sound like such a shrew, though she knew that she did. However, she could not suppress the spark of jealousy that ignited within her every time she thought of another woman alone with Adam. Just as she was right now.
"I didn't want to talk to them," he replied evenly. "I wanted to speak to you."
Something inside of Abigail softened and she lowered her head. "I am sorry, Adam. Truly. I did not mean to snap." She waved a hand in the air. "It is merely that..."
"That you are preoccupied," he finished for her, his eyes glittering in the dim light.
She looked up in surprise. "How did you... I mean I did not say..."
Closing the space between them in a few easy strides, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh, darling. I know about Mr. Burleigh. I know that threat of marriage to him has been hanging over your head, likely for days now. What I do not know is for how long or why you did not tell me sooner."
"I wanted to," Abigail confessed without hesitation, feeling as if a great pressure was being lifted from her. "Truly, I did, even from the moment Mama's letter arrived several days ago. Before that? I was under the impression that my family had accepted that I did not wish to marry without love. And perhaps they had. Before the man's awful threats to Papa."
That might not be the specific reason she had fled the ballroom, but the idea of marriage to a man other than Adam had been haunting Abigail for the better part of the day. Particularly after he helped Fairhaven secure the Cup after so many years and the assembled guests all but collectively swooned at his feet. She was losing him, or she believed that she was anyway. And it broke her heart.
"Did you not think that I could help you?" Adam asked her softly, as he drew her chin up with his index finger. "I might be the Dastardly Duke, but I am not without resources. Especially given how...close we have become as of late."
"As I said, I wanted to tell you, especially now since Miss Cutwright discovered my mother's letters and is ready to announce my betrothal to the odious man at any moment now," Abigail lamented softly, unable to look away from Adam, especially as he drew her hand into his and pulled her tighter against him. "But given the way I carried on about resisting marriage without love, or at the very least to a man who does not love me..." She bit her lip. She didn't want to admit that she knew Adam didn't love her. It would be beyond humiliating.
Adam smiled and tilted his head. "Who says that I do not love you?" he asked.
"Well...you." Was the man that dense? Or was it something mental? It had been nearly a fortnight since he had crashed into the balustrade, after all. If he had suffered any head injuries, certainly they would have appeared by now. One would think so, anyway.
Adam shook his head. "I never said that I did not love you, Abby." When she went to speak, he put his finger to her lips. "Do not mistake me. I cannot say that I am in love with you at this very moment. I am not certain, and, as I have never said those words to another woman, I wish to be very certain before I speak them. I am a rogue, Abby, but I shan't break a woman's heart by whispering such powerful words if I do not mean them."
"Then what do you feel for me?" Abigail spoke around his finger for she had to know if she had all but given her heart to a man incapable of feeling anything for her.
"I do not know, but it feels as if it could be the beginnings of love." He caressed her cheek with his fingers. "This is all new to me, Abby. You know my past. I am not a good one to assess what is and what is not love. But today? When I thought of going on with my life without you? When I stood at the edge of that lake and wanted to win so badly, to prove to you that I was worthy of you? I do believe that is something like love and that it can grow into love if we allow it."
She shook her head. "I do not understand. What are you asking of me, Adam?"
"Abby." He whispered her name in her ear as he drew her close, his warm breath tickling her cheek. "Abby, I am asking you to give me your heart. To let this thing between us grow, to become the love that I believe it can be. I am asking you to give me your body so that I might worship you as you deserve to be, with all of the care and attention in the world. I am asking you to love me, Abby, and, in time, to marry me so that I can learn to truly love you as I should in return."
Abigail's head swam and she felt momentarily dizzy. This wasn't at all how she imagined the moment a man confessed his love to her, the moment that he asked for her hand in marriage. In fact, this was all a little backwards. Adam had not asked her father for permission for her hand, but he would likely have to ask his forgiveness later on - provided her father was not furious with her that she was not going to wed Burleigh. In fact, it was rather likely that they would have to either be married by special license before she returned to Plymouth or they might need to escape to Scotland for a sennight or more.
None of this was the way she had imagined it, but it felt far more right than anything she had ever anticipated. It was also the only such moment she was likely to ever receive.
Abigail had thought there might be flowers in her mother's sitting room or a quiet garden bench with butterflies flitting about and songbirds in the trees. She had never imagined a darkened library at a duke's grand, country estate that looked more like a fortress than a house.
She had also assumed that the man proposing - if this was actually a proposal and she wasn't certain it was - would be someone from the local gentry, perhaps a baron or baronet if she was extremely fortunate. The man, however, would be above reproach and the picture of propriety, just as she had strived to be from the moment her mother had taken her off her father's ship in Plymouth and set her on the path to become a proper young lady. Never had she imagined that the man asking to claim her affections would be a duke with a more than slightly questionable reputation, a man who was considered something just this side of a rogue and altogether unsuitable f
or most gently reared young women.
Yet here she was in Enwright's library with the nearly full moon casting silvery shadows across the thick, Aubusson carpeting, illuminating the dark areas where the light from the few branches of candles did not quite reach. Somehow, it seemed fitting that here in this room, where she skirted the line of respectability versus ruin, that a duke of all people would be asking for both her heart and her body in one breath.
With another man, it might be very wrong indeed, but with Adam? Everything seemed so very right.
Slowly she leaned forward and rested her head against his strong chest. Even through his many layers of evening clothes, she could hear his heart beating strong and steady. Despite everything that had been said about him, this was a man she could trust with her life and her heart.
"Yes, Adam," she whispered into his chest, praying that he heard her, for she did not have the strength to look him in the eyes just yet, still a tiny bit afraid that she was making a horrid mistake. "Yes. I give myself to you. Now. Tonight. I trust you. With my very life."
He must have heard her, for before she could even blink, he reached down and scooped her up into his arms. "I will not let you down, Abby," he promised as he swept through yet another hidden door, this one leading to a fairly wide set of stairs that obviously led to the guest quarters. "I promise you that I will not. And that you will not regret this."
As she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his embrace, Abigail had no doubt that he meant each and every word that he said.
Chapter Seventeen
Adam had been waiting for this moment since that morning he had awoken to twittering birds and bright sunlight, only to see his garden goddess peering down at him in worry. He had Abigail in his arms and she had offered herself to him. It was as if all of his dreams, everything that he desired but knew he did not deserve, were coming true.
If she was having second thoughts, Abigail did not show it, for each time that Adam looked down at her, she was smiling, almost as if in anticipation of what was to come. In truth, he was having second thoughts. This was something that a rogue would do, not a gentleman. Very likely, the old Adam would have simply tumbled her over a desk or on a chair long ago and been done with it so that they could enjoy themselves for the entire house party.
That he had waited this long said something about his changing moral character - though he was not precisely certain what.
Striding down the hall with her in his arms was a bit more difficult than he had imagined, especially as this was one of the hidden hallways and it was a bit narrower than he had anticipated. It took some of the romance out of the moment when he had to pause and ask her which way her suite lie, but only for a moment. Then, Adam was pushing through a hidden doorway near the fireplace and crossing the room to lay Abigail gently upon her oversized bed.
It was a bedchamber designed for an innocent with pretty pastel wallpaper stenciled with pale pink and white cherry blossoms. The white counterpane had a similar design stitched in various shades of pinks and whites. High above them, a pale pink silk canopy covered the bed. Everything in this room spoke of innocence and purity. Which was ironic as Adam was about to take Abigail's innocence here in this very bed.
"You can change your mind, you know," he offered softly.
For as much as he desired this - desired her - he did not want her to regret this in the morning. She might have been raised on a ship with virile young men, but she was still ignorant of what truly went on between a man and a woman. She might have some idea. In fact, he was certain she did. However she could not truly know the passion that could flare between two people who desired each other. Adam had enjoyed tastes of such passion over the years, but, he suspected, whatever passions he found with Abigail would be beyond anything he had ever delighted in before.
Unsurprisingly, she shook her head. "No. I want you, Adam, and I want you now." A part of her still worried that, in the end, he might be ripped away from her - either by her family or his. If she did not know him in a carnal way now, it was possible that she never would.
For a brief moment, she considered the possibility of a child resulting from what they were about to do, but she pushed that worry aside and attempted to calm her imagination. Whatever happened...happened. She would not dwell on it, not now when Adam was looking down at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. It might not be love - for either of them - but it was close enough for her in this moment.
"Then you shall have me," he promised with a seductive smile.
"Show me," she demanded, pushing herself up on her elbows, the heavy skirts of her ballgown becoming cumbersome now. When Abigail Northrup decided upon a course of action, she saw it through. She was no shrinking violet and now was not the time to start being so. After all, she had already seen his naked chest. How much more shocking could the rest of him be?
Very, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered, but she shushed it quickly.
"Abby, I am not a...small man." Especially not now when his cock was so swollen and aching with need. He was honestly a bit afraid that he might frighten her with his length and width.
Being bold, she reached out and cupped him intimately through his trousers. "Then show me. I am not afraid. I trust you, Adam."
Her eyes burned hot with need and desire, but also with just a touch of fear that she was clearly attempting to hide from him. But he would not turn back. Not now. "As you wish, my lady."
With supple grace, he rose from the bed and began peeling off his clothing one garment at a time. Abigail's wide eyes never left his body, even when her breathing stuttered in her chest. With each garment he removed, her eyes grew a bit wider in anticipation, as if she was now not so certain that she truly desired what she had asked for.
Adam, however, was not about to allow her to change her mind, and kept his heated gaze pinned on her so that she would not look away. "Look at me, Abby," he commanded when, as he reached for the buttons on his evening shirt, she started to look down at her clasped hands. "This is nothing you have not seen before."
"In the garden you were not quite so real to me," she replied as she swallowed thickly. "It was more like a fairy tale."
"I am no fairy tale," he assured her as he undid the last button and allowed the fine fabric to fall to the floor in a heap. "I have been called many things over the years, from saint to sinner, devil to angel. But never have I been referred to as a fairy tale."
His chest was even more impressive than she had remembered, and Abigail's throat went dry at the sight of him. He was all hard, lean muscle, with a dusting of hair down the length of his beautifully sculpted chest. His skin had a golden hue, likely from all of the time he spent in the sun swimming and rowing at Willowby Hill on the lake there. She could see more muscles covering his stomach and then dipping lower - beneath the waistband on his trousers.
"You are my fairy tale," she assured him when she could draw breath again, her feminine core growing damp and achy as she looked at him. "For I have never seen anything so perfect as you in all of my life."
"I should hope not," he growled roughly. "And after tonight, I shall be the only man you see this way."
It was not truly a promise of marriage, but Adam could not bring himself to say the words she might otherwise wish to hear. It was too soon. He was not ready. And he feared that, for all of her bravado, she was not quite ready to hear them either. Not for marriage, anyway. However the raw hunger in her gaze indicated that she was ready for this. For him to take her and give her the first true taste of physical pleasure she had ever known.
Then his hands were on the buttons of his trousers. He could see her eyes fastened on the bulge there and he knew that she was curious. He hoped that he would not shock her, but if it did? Well, it could not be helped.
"Are you ready for more, Abby?" Adam asked as he took a step towards the bed.
She nodded though she swallowed hard at the same time. "I am." Her voice shook a bit, b
ut her jaw was set firm and he knew she meant what she had said.
Slowly Adam stripped out of his pants. She swallowed a gasp as he slid them down his long legs to reveal yet more muscle, but then her eyes flew to the bulge of his cock now prominent through his smalls. This time he didn't hesitate but instead yanked off the bit of cloth until he was proudly naked before her, his cock swelling so much that he all but ached.
"I...never...I could not..." Abigail stumbled over her words. Dear Heavens, the man was huge! Much too big to fit inside of her! And she could tell from the expression on his face that he meant to do just that. But she was too small. It would never work!
Once, back on the ship, she had caught a glimpse of one of the sailors as he had been leaving the bed of one of the few female crewmembers. His cock had been short and squat, and Abigail had assumed - incorrectly, now it seemed - that all men were built alike in that regard. Even though she knew that was foolish, as all women did not have the same size breasts for instance. Yet she had never imagined that a man could be this large. Or that tempting. For there was a wanton part of her that very much wished to try, mechanics be damned.
Biting her lip, Abigail shook her head. "This will not work. I am so sorry, Adam. I shall...make it up to you." She had heard whispers of women sucking on men's cocks. Perhaps he would like that. She could only hope that it would suffice in place of actual fucking. She was extremely disappointed, so she could only imagine how he must feel.
Except that Adam did not appear to be disappointed at all. Or even concerned for that matter. Instead, he walked towards the bed and took her hand in his, drawing her to her feet.
"This will work, Abby," he whispered as he kissed the side of her neck. "Trust me. However you must be ready. Otherwise it will be painful, and I have no wish to hurt you. Ever."
The Kiss of a Rogue Page 23