Her body thrummed an erratic cadence, his seductive words making her weak. Archer kissed her swiftly and began to work his way down her body, his tongue running between her breasts and delving into the sensitive indent of her navel. His hands slid her bloomers past her hips and, in one smooth motion, he removed the last piece of her clothing. She lay naked before him, every part of her on display for him to view and appraise. Heat singed her body in a deep blush. Embarrassed, she reached for the sheet, but Archer stalled the movement.
“No, don’t. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? Your ankles, your calves, your knees, your hips, all of you. I could stare at you forever.”
Brynn inhaled sharply, seduced by his fevered words as his fingers caressed the slope of her knee and the curve of her thigh. His mouth and tongue followed the searing path of his hands, his lips tracing the sharp edges of her hip bones. Every touch, every scrape of his teeth, made her skin tingle and burn. Her body felt as if it were melting, transforming from flesh and bone to liquid heat as Archer’s hand settled onto the ready, damp core of her. Oh. Her hips lanced forward, craving more. Archer circled his finger there with slow, deliberate strokes, her body tightening compulsively at the scorching sensations his touch evoked. His lips grazed across the plane of her belly, closer to the heat of her. She gasped his name as she realized where his mouth was going…what it sought.
“Archer, no.”
“I like the word ‘yes’ more.”
His lips followed the hot path of his fingers and, when he finally set his mouth to her core, Brynn’s head fell back with a cry of surprise.
The glide of his tongue against her was as electrifying as the storm outside. Brynn almost lost herself in the wild carnal sensation of it as Archer eased his tongue deeper, licking and thrusting, and doing lewd, wicked things that she had never dreamed of. But, oh sweet lord, she didn’t want him to stop.
Archer settled himself between her thighs and swirled his tongue against her in teasing, flicking motions that drove her daft, his fingers working gently into her passage, stroking forward and retreating. In a mindless daze, her fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned his name. The exquisite pressure was unbearable. Searing. Brynn writhed against his mouth, incoherent sounds escaping her lips. Her body felt possessed, utterly consumed by him, and as he drew her pliant flesh between his teeth, it froze for one terrifyingly bright second—and then shuddered into wild tremors that threatened to break her apart.
“I love the way you taste,” he whispered. His erotic words made her quiver anew at the thought of what he’d just done and how wantonly she’d responded.
With a satisfied smirk, Archer nuzzled her stomach and worked his way back up her body, continuing to stroke her with his hand, sliding it around her hip to hold her flush against him. He caressed the length of her spine, curving around her buttocks and gently molding her flesh. He held her gaze as if needing to measure every moment, every reaction to his every touch. Brynn swallowed hard at the pressure of his arousal pressing so intimately into her, but she didn’t pull away as Archer positioned himself at the entrance of her body.
He inched forward, the strain of holding back bunching his muscles as her virginal passage stretched to accommodate him. The insistent press of his blunt tip felt like his fingers had—only much, much larger. Her hands found his shoulders, kneading apprehensively. “Archer—”
“Trust me, darling.” He pushed as far forward as he could until Brynn felt as if she were going to split apart. He stroked her face, all the love in the world glowing in his eyes. She knew he would never hurt her, not when he looked at her like that with so much aching tenderness. “I love you, Briannon.”
The gently offered words were her undoing.
“And I you.”
He entered her fully then, and her body arched like a bow against him, a sharp cry wrenching from her mouth. A hot lash of pain tore through her, echoing in waves across her lower abdomen. It felt like she had been split apart, her body rebelling against the unfamiliar girth of him. Her eyes smarted as she expelled a shuddering breath.
Archer held himself still, his face above her strained and worried. “Brynn?”
“I’m okay,” she assured him, and it wasn’t a lie for very long. The pain flattened out until there was only the proud heat of him resting deep within her.
“Are you certain?”
Brynn answered by reaching for his mouth with hers, her tongue curling against his in desperate need. She needed him. Archer shifted slightly, and she braced for another bout of pain as he withdrew. Groaning, he sank carefully back into her clinging heat, but this time, there was no pain, just the unfathomable, astonishing slide of his body joining with hers. She gasped at the pressure, and within moments, her body let go, softening underneath him. Receiving him as it was meant to do.
Brynn’s hands settled around his waist as he moved, slowly at first and then with more intensity as she clutched at him, her hips rocking instinctively upward to meet his deep, controlled thrusts. Pleasure pulsed through her thighs with every stroke. Instinct took over as she matched his motions, hitching her legs around him as he had taught her and gasping at the deepened friction. Archer growled as if pleased, his movements quickening with the deliberate shift of her hips.
“Archer,” she moaned.
“Soon, my love,” Archer said, sliding his hand in between their slick bodies and amplifying the tension to impossible heights. His thumb stroked her sensitive bud as his body drove rhythmically into hers. The erotic combination made her senseless. She murmured inaudibly, gripping him with her thighs to bring him closer, to make him more a part of her than he already was. Her nails dug into his back, and Archer responded to her demands, driving deeper, giving her what she asked for.
Brynn matched his hungry rhythm, wanting to please him as much as he wanted to please her. She was reaching for something, but she didn’t know what. Deep down, she knew that Archer would give it to her. But she frowned as he slowed his pace, the effort making him grunt as he hoisted his weight to his forearms.
“Am I going too fast?” he asked. “Your lungs. I don’t want to push you too hard.”
He was worried about her lungs now?
“Archer,” she gasped, half laughing, half growling. “My lungs will surely burst if you stop.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, making him inhale sharply, and more than conveying what she wanted. He grinned at her boldness and twisted to his back, taking her with him until she was straddling his hips. Brynn cried out in surprise as he pressed intimately up into her and flushed hotly at the brazen position.
“I’ve always been rather jealous of Apollo,” he told her with a knowing wink. Brynn’s legs went weak at the overtly erotic suggestion—sitting astride Archer was nothing like riding her horse. She hovered over him, her hair a cascade around her shoulders until he pushed it back, allowing him free rein of her breasts once again. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, and she moaned low in her throat.
“What do I do?” she gasped.
He placed his hands on her hips and, with a gentle rocking motion, showed her what he wanted. A smile curved her lips as she followed his instruction, her tentative thrusts soon turning frenzied. Brynn nearly stopped breathing with the sheer torture of it.
“Please,” Brynn whimpered, the pressure between her thighs agonizing.
“Almost there,” he grunted as his hips ground against hers with desperation. “Come with me, love.”
He reached between their bodies to stroke her, and she cried out, her body wracked with spasms as he sent her barreling over the edge. Brynn sunk forward, and he held her close, groaning as the convulsions of her orgasm rippled around his length, still buried deep within her. With a growl of what she could describe only as pure male satisfaction, Archer surged upward in one powerful thrust, his body bucking beneath hers as he, too, found his release. Brynn felt sated to the center of her bones.
Archer brought her gently back to
the mattress beside him. He brushed the damp hair out of her face and frowned. “Darling, is something the matter?” She nodded solemnly, and his hesitant frown turned into something panicked. “What is it?”
Brynn stared at the face of the man she loved and felt everything in her world fall perfectly into place. She smoothed the furrows from his brow.
“I’m afraid, Your Grace, that you have made good on your threat.”
“And which threat is that?” he said, his voice wary.
Then she smiled at him, her entire heart lighting up with mischief and love and contentment. “I have been completely and utterly ruined.”
Epilogue
Brynn stared at her new husband of barely a month and hid a secret smile as she strolled through the verdant gardens of Worthington Abbey. He stood at the lily pond, one black Hessian propped on the pond’s low stone perimeter, in deep conversation with the Earl of Thorndale. The two men were no doubt discussing the new children’s hospices they had agreed to build together in London.
Archer had retired the guise of the Masked Marauder for good, instead soliciting charitable donations to improve the situations of the sick and needy in London and in the countryside as well. When Archer had brought her to a handful of the churches, hospitals, and orphanages that the Masked Marauder’s repurposed money had benefited, she had been stunned. It had made her and Archer more determined to make a difference…in a legal way, of course.
And so, Archer had founded the Bradburne Trust in memory of his mother, a charitable organization that fed and clothed starving children, provided medicine to the ill, and helped families caught in dire straits. She knew most of the ton viewed them and their efforts as eccentric, but she didn’t care. She could hardly turn a blind eye to those who were suffering on their doorstep when she had so much and they so little. Brynn was deep in preparations for the Trust’s first fundraising gala, one they planned to host every year in honor of Archer’s mother, the late Lady Bradburne. It would be an evening of entertainment and dancing and, considering the frenzy of excitement surrounding the duke and his new duchess, not one member of the peerage would dare miss it.
Brynn was inordinately proud of her husband and his burning desire to make the world a better place. He was still Robyn Hode of the old ballads, but now he asked for funds instead of stealing them.
Archer was escorting Lord Thorndale to a waiting coach after a lengthy morning meeting. The two were equal in height, though Lord Thorndale was lighter in coloring and far more mild-mannered and approachable than her husband. They did seem to get along well, however. Lady Thorndale had been in attendance at the wedding, and Brynn had taken a liking to her immediately. The wedding seemed like it had happened years ago instead of a few weeks. Archer had reposted the banns a short week before they had been married in Essex in a discreet ceremony in the village church. Archer had asked her whether she wanted a London society wedding, but Brynn had declined. And despite her mother’s obvious consternation, Brynn had stood her ground. She’d had enough attention to last her a lifetime.
Their reception ball had been another matter altogether, as the marriage of a duke wasn’t one to be ignored. Their friends and acquaintances had traveled in droves to Essex in the midst of the season to toast their nuptials, and the guest rooms at Worthington Abbey and Ferndale had been filled to bursting. It had been a full three days of dancing and celebration with visitors toasting their happiness, all of them misty-eyed at the sight of the handsome, aloof duke smiling in enchanted delight at his young bride.
The wedding had been everything she had imagined and more, even when she said her vows and pledged to obey him, and Archer had promptly crooked an amused eyebrow. She’d stifled a shocked giggle and admonished him later outside the church.
“You terrible wretch!”
“Have to keep you on your toes, now that you are to be my obedient wife,” he’d teased. “No more midnight escapades attempting to lure dangerous criminals.” His voice had lowered a notch. “Unless, of course it is in bed.”
Which would explain why her color had been unnaturally high as they entered Archer’s splendid ducal coach, enough to provoke a barrage of questions from her mama asking whether she was about to have a spell.
That night Archer had made love to her with a new exquisite tenderness. Only when he had brought her to the heights of pleasure for a third time had he allowed himself release. He had worshipped her with his body, letting her know then and forever that she would always—and only—be his. Brynn trembled at the memory, her body melting as it did when thoughts of him invaded her mind.
Their days were shared with laughter and intelligent, provoking debates, and their nights with passionate lovemaking. He showed her all the ways a man could please a woman and had taken exceptional satisfaction, she was certain, in showing her all the ways a woman could please a man. Some nights he made love to her swiftly and others he took his time, drawing out each blissful second.
A faint blush colored her cheeks as she recalled earlier that morning when she had woken him from slumber, rolling astride him and coaxing his body to life. He loved it when she took charge, and she enjoyed watching him lose himself beneath her. It was a part of him only she would ever know. That underneath his self-possessed and standoffish exterior, there lay a passionate and deeply caring man. When Archer was with her, he had no need for masks or pretenses. He was him. And she loved him with an intensity that she could hardly put into words. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him, nor he of her.
Which would explain why her monthly flux was late.
Brynn wrapped her hands around her middle and smiled again. Her fingers spread across the flat expanse of her stomach at the thought of the tiny life blooming there. She and Archer had not yet discussed children, though she wanted them desperately. A part of her worried that his own difficult upbringing and his father’s innumerable by-blows would have made him resistant to the idea. She didn’t want to ask because, in truth, she feared the answer.
She waved as Lord Thorndale’s coach ambled past, and then caught the eye of her husband. He strode in her direction, his long legs crossing the distance in a few swift strides. He looked tantalizing in his trousers and linen shirt, his fingers undoing the topmost buttons of his collar now that company had departed. He caught her to him and took her lips in a breathless kiss.
“My lord,” she gasped against them even as her body responded the way it always did when he touched her. “The servants!”
“Have been well paid to turn a blind eye to my wife’s public displays of wantonness.”
“You shameless rogue!” she said, blushing, though relishing the feel of his strong arms about her. “I do no such thing.”
He nuzzled her ear, breathing in the scent of her. “Then, my dear duchess, you should stop looking so desirable. The sight of you can incite a man to madness.” He glanced up at the clear blue sky and smiled down at her before placing a chaste kiss to her cheek, one that was completely undermined by the leering look in his eye. “Do you fancy a ride before dinner?”
“Not today.”
“Is something amiss?” he asked with a frown. “You never say no to taking Apollo out. Is it your health?”
He had taken up Gray’s vexing habit of worrying over her breathing once she’d moved to Worthington Abbey, though she found she could better endure it coming from Archer. She didn’t enjoy that he worried, but the crease between his eyes whenever he did felt like a small reminder of how much she meant to him. Brynn was quite certain she’d never tire of seeing or hearing how much he loved her.
“No, everything is fine. I…feel like a stroll instead. Walk with me?”
With a concerned look, Archer did as she asked. They ambled through the gardens, the light scent of the flowers rising with the afternoon breeze. He stopped her at a bench out of sight of the house. “Something is in the wind. What is it? Was it the meeting this morning? I am sorry it went so long, but the plans for the hospitals are taking lon
ger than we expected—”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, drawing him down to sit on the bench with her. She drew a deep calming breath, fighting the rapid cadence of her heart. “I held a baby some days ago at the orphanage, and… I was wondering…if you…wanted children,” she finished lamely. A shadow flickered over his eyes as he regarded her in somber silence. “Someday, I mean,” she added when his attention lowered to her hand, still splayed across her middle.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?” he asked, gently nudging her chin up to face him.
“I am…past my time.”
“You are with child.” She nodded, even though his soft words hadn’t been a question. Brynn nearly melted at the tender, awestruck look in his eyes. “My child,” he whispered in reverent wonder. She heard the joy in his hushed tone, saw the cresting light of another dawn in his eyes as they gazed at her stomach again. In that moment, all of Brynn’s fears drained away.
“If it’s a boy,” she said teary-eyed and smiling, “we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t follow in his marauding father’s footsteps.”
Archer took her into his arms, his fingers intertwining with hers lying against her stomach. “But if it’s a girl, I fear we will have much more to worry about, especially if she is anything like her mother.”
“And how is that?” Brynn asked.
“To be beautiful, fearless, and incomparable is to invite great distress upon her father. He will surely have to lock her in a tower and post three guards at all times.”
Her breath hitched at the love on his face, and she slid a palm up to his cheek. “And what if she wears her brother’s breeches and rides without a saddle and says what she thinks?”
“Then I shall count myself the luckiest father in the world.”
Brynn opened her mouth to retort, but her husband leaned down and smothered her words with his lips. And then she forgot everything but him.
My Rogue, My Ruin Page 37