by Monica Burns
“I’m not so decrepit that I can’t enjoy a small stroll,” Aurora snapped.
Biting back a smile, Constance rose to her feet and offered the older woman her arm. Together they walked toward a row of French doors that opened up into a long gallery. With a quick glance in Lucien’s direction, she saw he was deeply involved in conversation with her sister. It was their second dance together, and jealousy nipped at her when she realized he was so absorbed in his conversation that he didn’t even glance in her direction.
The dowager countess seemed to know exactly where she was going, and as they entered the corridor that adjoined the ballroom, she smiled. “William proposed to me here at Marlborough House.”
Startled, Constance sent the woman a curious look. “Was his proposal unexpected?”
“No,” Lady Lyndham shook her head, her smile widening, clearly enjoying the memory. “But the way he proposed was. He kidnapped me out of the ballroom and proposed to me in one of these rooms up here.”
With a wave of her hand, the woman pointed toward several doors lining the hallway. “Come along, I’ll show you.”
Slowly they made their way to the third door. As they reached it, Aurora’s hand rose to her throat. Hesitating, Constance touched her arm as the woman stared at the closed door, a look of longing on her face.
“Are you all right, my lady?” she asked quietly, afraid the woman was close to tears.
“What?” Lady Lyndham sent her a puzzled look then nodded. “Oh yes, I’m fine. Would you mind checking to see that we’re not interrupting someone, girl?”
“Of course,” Constance said with an understanding smile.
Moving forward, she knocked quietly. When no one answered, she carefully opened the door and looked inside. Not seeing anyone, she opened the door wider and stepped into the room. The small sitting room was softly lit by gaslights on the wall. In many ways, it reminded her of the room at the Clarendon, the night she and Lucien— No, she refused to think about that night.
A soft sound behind her made her spin around. Lucien’s powerful frame filled the doorway and blocked any possibility of escape. Over his shoulder she saw Lady Lyndham’s self-satisfied expression disappear behind the closing door.
In mute dismay, she saw him lock the door and put the key in his trousers. She’d been lured into a trap. But did she really want to escape? The silence in the room buzzed with raw tension, and she struggled not to show how much his penetrating look was disturbing her.
“I’m going to ask you a question, yâ sabāha, and I don’t want anything except a yes or a no. Is that understood?” The autocratic note in his voice said he wouldn’t be thwarted, and in truth, she didn’t have the ability to defy him at the moment. Remaining silent in the face of his stern expression, she nodded.
“Do you love me?” The question surprised her slightly, but not in an alarming way. She’d already confessed her love to him. That wasn’t the point in question where he was concerned.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment before pinning her beneath his blue gaze. The intensity of his look made her shudder, and she furtively glanced around the room, hoping to find another means of escape. A taunting voice in the back of her head chided her for being unwilling to face him.
“Yes or no. Do you believe I love you?”
“I can’t—”
“God damn it, Constance, just say yes or no.”
“No.” She bowed her head. It was a true answer. She didn’t believe he loved her the way she deserved to be loved.
“At least that’s an answer I can deal with.” The terse note in his voice caused her to jerk up her head with surprise. His eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. “Come here.”
She shook her head sharply and took a quick step backward. God help her, the last thing she wanted was to find herself in his arms again. She’d forget everything then, and when she woke up from the pleasure of it, she’d find that nothing had changed. He still wouldn’t love her for who she was.
“As you wish,” he said grimly. In three long strides he was standing inches away from her, and yet he didn’t touch her.
Trembling, she tried to suppress the gossamer frisson layering its fine web across her skin. With each breath she took, the scent of bergamot and leather flooded her senses. The tension in him was evident from the way his scar had tightened to a thin white line. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the sight of him, but his image was still crisp and vivid in her head.
“Look at me, yâ sabāha.” The soft command forced her to meet his gaze.
For a fleeting instant, she saw a tortured look in his blue eyes before he reached for something in his coat pocket. Slowly, he pulled a square jeweler’s box out into view. Bewildered, she looked at the box and then back up at him as he offered the blue velvet package to her.
“I don’t know what made you think I don’t love every part of you, yâ sabāha, but I do.” She flinched as the tips of his fingers singed hers when she accepted the box. “I don’t care that you can see things others can’t. All I know is that I can’t live without you. I love you, and I don’t know how else to prove it to you, except with this.” He tipped his head toward the box she held.
He was speaking all the right words, but did he really mean them? Uncertainty gripped her as she studied his face. His somber look of apprehension made her want to reassure him, and she resisted the impulse to reach out and touch him. Slowly, she opened the box and stared at the gold calling-card case. Perplexed, she frowned at the small accessory.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured with confusion.
“Open it up.” The tension in him was almost palpable. Again, she had to suppress the urge to touch him, ease the note of worry she heard in his voice.
The gold case was cool to the touch as she popped up the lid. Inside there were several calling cards already prepared. Shock held her rigid as she stared at the inscription on the cards.
The Right Honorable Countess of Lyndham
Helping Others Communicate with Lost Loved Ones
Lyndham House, Mayfair, Park Street
She saw the words, but she didn’t believe they were real. It couldn’t be real. Could it? Raising her head, she stared into his blue eyes. The troubled light in his gaze indicated his uncertainty as to how she would respond to his gift. And it was exactly that. It was a gift of love. His love. The cards were his declaration to the world that he loved her for who she was and would never expect her to hide her true self from him or anyone else. A shudder raced through her, and she swayed on her feet. A tear slid down her cheek, and then another as she stared into his apprehensive expression.
“For the love of God, yâ sabāha,” he rasped. “Say something.”
Unable to speak, she simply flung herself into his arms and sought his mouth in a passionate kiss. Clinging to him, she eagerly drank in the heady scent of him as she kissed him with all the love and passion that was in her heart. His response was immediate and fierce. Strong arms locked around her in an embrace she would never be able to escape from, even if she wanted to.
His mouth left hers to gently kiss her damp cheeks. Still holding her close, he raised his head to stare down at her, while his fingers wiped away her tears. “I take it this means you’ll marry me.”
“It seems I have no choice given the earl has already printed up my calling cards.” She uttered a laugh mixed with a sob of happiness.
“I couldn’t think of any other way to make you understand how much I love you.”
“And you’re sure?” she asked with just a hint of trepidation. “There may come a time when you’ll regret saying you love me as I am.”
“Never,” he said firmly. “Although I have no doubt there will be moments when I’ll want to shut the ghosts out just to spend a quiet hour with my wife.”
“I love you, Lucien.” Her w
ords tugged a sigh from him as he feathered a kiss across her mouth.
“Not half as much as I adore you, yâ sabāha,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m never going to let you leave me again.”
Capturing her lips in a hard kiss, he breathed in the familiar honey-jasmine mix of her perfume. He’d almost lost her, and God knows what would have become of him if that had happened. He owed his grandmother and future sister-in-law a debt of gratitude he’d never be able to repay. Cupping Constance’s face in his hands, he probed the inner sweetness of her mouth as the familiar surge of desire and need plowed through him. Beneath his hands, the silky softness of her skin reminded him of other parts of her that were equally soft. Parts he wanted to explore without the constraints of clothing. With a groan, he released her to put distance between them. The disappointment on her face made him shake his head.
“Don’t look at me like that. I want you more than you know, my love.”
Daring flared in her eyes as her mouth curled in a come-hither smile. Her expression made his cock grow hard as iron in a brief second. He watched in disbelief as she reached behind her back to undo her gown.
“Damn it, Constance, this is hardly the Black Widows Ball at the Clarendon.”
“But it is a locked room,” she said with a seductive smile.
With a quick movement, the bodice of her gown slipped off her shoulders and fell to her waist. Unable to do anything but watch, his body hungered for her as she slowly untied the front of her corset. It was unmitigated torture to see her undo each ribbon with exacting care, when all he wanted to do was rip the damn thing off her.
Her movements were sensual and seductive as she slowly undressed in front of him. God, she was the most beautiful creature in the world. And she was his. His to love without fear of madness. The dress she wore pooled at her feet. Clothed only in a transparent chemise, she slowly inched it up over her thighs then her hips as she revealed the delicious nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.
Seconds later the chemise crested over her hard nipples before it landed on the floor with the rest of her clothing. An alluring smile on her lips, she stepped forward and undid his tie. Past the point of caring what might happen if they were caught, he didn’t stop to think as he quickly removed his clothes. She moved away from him toward the room’s sofa. Sinking into the cushions, she stretched out her hand to him.
It was the most enticing offer he’d ever received, and she knew it. She knew the power she had over him. Desire barreled through him, and he reached the couch in two quick steps. With a quick tug of her arm, he pulled her up onto her feet, and he saw the look of surprise on her face. He smiled. She wasn’t the only one with the power, and he was about to show the future Countess of Lyndham that two could play this game of torturous seduction. Bending his head, he trailed his mouth along the side of her neck and down her shoulder. She smelled heavenly and tasted even better.
As he nibbled at her, he heard her soft pants of desire. Each one more heated than the last as his mouth moved to caress the top of one voluptuous breast. An instant later when his tongue flicked over a hard peak, a soft mewl poured out of her. Taking her into his mouth, he heard her cry out with pleasure.
God she tasted good. Hot and sweet like honey. And he’d missed the way she purred for him when he suckled her. He wanted to take his time with her, but his cock wasn’t going to wait any longer. Pulling her with him, his knee forced her legs apart as they sank down onto the cushions of the couch.
She went willingly, her mouth seeking his as she straddled him. The hard heat of his erection pressed against her hot core and she shuddered. It would always be like this with him. The raw passion, the blinding desire. Shifting her hips slightly, she pressed down on him until he slid up inside her, filling her, expanding her. She didn’t suppress her moan of pleasure, instead she reveled in it.
Passion and need darkened his face as she looked down into his eyes. The intensity of his gaze heightened the sensations flooding her body as she moved slowly over his hard thickness, intent on drawing out the pleasure. His eyes narrowed as he dragged in a ragged breath at her slow, measured strokes.
“Ride me, yâ sabāha,” he said hoarsely. “Ride me now.”
Obeying his command, she quickened the pace of their joining, her bottom crashing into his thighs with increasing force as she rode him. In seconds, her body tightened around him in her first spasm of pleasure. A deep growl rolled out of him as he urged her to rock against him with feverish abandon.
Inside her, he stiffened and exploded at the same instant she shattered over him. It was a blinding moment of clarity. This was what she’d sought all her life. This acceptance. This knowledge that she was at one with the man she loved. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his. For several moments, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing as they slowly recovered from the intensity of their mating. A strong hand slid up her stomach and between her breasts to caress the base of her throat.
“First the Clarendon and now Marlborough House,” he said with a satiated smile. “What will you propose next, I wonder.”
“Are you saying you don’t like living dangerously?” Wiggling against him, she elicited a sharp groan from him as she returned his smile. He shook his head and trailed his fingers down her cheek.
“Not as long as I’m with you, my love. Wherever you go, so goes my heart,” he whispered.
“I love you, Lucien,” she murmured as she lowered her head to kiss him. The dangers of the past were gone, leaving only a bright future ahead of them. Her mouth brushed across his, and for just a moment, she thought she heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. She ignored it. For once, the spirit world could wait.
Epilogue
“You must tell him, Constance.”
The Dowager Countess of Lyndham set her teacup back in its saucer, and sent her granddaughter-in-law a stern look. Constance briefly met the woman’s eyes then averted her gaze.
“I can’t, not yet.” She shook her head before she rose from her chair and moved to stand at the window overlooking the keep’s garden. The gray winter day only worsened the bleak feeling inside her.
For more than a week, she’d been struggling between despair and uncertainty. In the beginning, she’d easily dismissed her nausea. Jamie had been ill, and her natural instinct was to deny the truth by telling herself she’d caught something from her son. She’d recognized the fallacy of her thinking from the beginning. Only she’d refused to believe it.
Even more painful had been Lucien’s tender concern for her. If he’d known the real reason for her illness, his reaction would have mostly likely been one of grim regret. He’d made his feelings quite clear. He wouldn’t want the child, and the knowledge made her heart ache with an intensity that was almost physical. Worse, she wasn’t even certain how she felt. Loving the baby would be easy, but if she passed on her gift, just as she had to Jamie, what sort of a life would the child have?
“He deserves to know, my dear girl.” A gentle rebuke filled the dowager’s voice, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“And I would tell him if it weren’t for what he said not more than a month ago.” She glanced down at her hand pressed against her belly and winced. “He doesn’t want any children.”
“The boy actually said that?” Lady Lyndham’s voice held an incredulous note and Constance turned her head to see the old woman’s look of dismay.
“Not in those exact words, but I know it’s what he meant.”
“I’m surprised the doctor didn’t say anything when Lucien summoned him to the keep more than a week ago.”
“I asked him not to.” She winced at the way she was deceiving her husband. “I told him I wanted to surprise Lucien.”
“Well, you won’t be able to wait too much longer to surprise the boy.” The Dowager eyed her critically. “He’s bound to notice something any day now, and t
hen where will you be?”
“I know,” Constance said with a troubled sigh. “I just can’t tell him yet.”
“Can’t tell me what?”
The sound of Lucien’s deep voice echoed behind her, and Constance whirled around to see her husband standing in the salon doorway. Startled by his unexpected arrival, she simply stared at him. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and he’d rolled his shirtsleeves up past his elbows. He looked as if he’d been crawling through spider webs.
Deliberately ignoring his question, she shook her head. “Whatever have you been up to? You’re covered in dust.” Despite the misery of her predicament, the sight of him still filled her with happiness.
The dirt covering his face emphasized the scar on his cheek, and he looked just as wickedly dangerous now as he had the night they’d first met. The memory of that sinful night at the Clarendon made her breath hitch, and her eyes met his piercing blue gaze. Almost as if he could read her mind, a wicked grin curved his sensual lips.
God, he had only to smile at her and she was little more than butter melting in his hands. Even now, after almost two years of marriage, he still had the power to make her tremble. But this time she trembled with more than just desire.
He slapped dust off his hands as he winked at her. “Jamie, Gene and I have been searching for the Seth statue.”
“Lucien, really,” Constance exclaimed. “Must you use that horrendous nickname for Imogene? She’s becoming a hoyden.”
“I think it suits her,” Lucien said with a roguish grin and crossed the room to kiss her cheek. “Now, then, what secrets are you hiding from me, yâ sabāha?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret any longer.” Unable to help herself, she laughed at his playful manner.
A flash of devilment darkened his gaze. She’d seen that look many times since their wedding night. It meant he intended to use any method at his disposal to get his way. And the man would do it in ways so pleasurable she’d be unable to keep her secret from him. Trepidation spiraled through her as he leaned forward to press his mouth to her ear.