Buckler's Hard

by Kelly, Sahara

  He moved with her, loving the whimpers and growls she uttered as her tension rose once more, keeping his movements steady and pleasurable for them both. It was different this time, easier, softer, yet every bit as amazing as the first time he'd taken her on this journey.

  Would he ever tire of this? He couldn't imagine doing so. He now understood Rowan Selkirk's inability to forget Thérèse. He understood why his friends at St. Chesswell's had suffered so much and yet fought on for each other and their mates.

  Perhaps he even understood himself better, his own capacity to love. Until this time, he'd not even considered an emotion like this. He couldn't. He'd been dying.

  A streak of pleasure flamed from his cock up through his body to land smack in his heart. It was the most extraordinary moment, an epiphany of sorts, a painfully exquisite feeling that made Marcus gulp down a lump of passion that seemed lodged in his throat.

  Mariah's inner muscles stroked and squeezed and moved around him in a paroxysm of release, an encouragement and an invitation to him to follow.

  Finally picking up his pace a little, it took only a few strokes before he did.

  He found, to his surprise, that he was filling her once again, emptying his seed into her, overflowing her tight passages, soaking her within as she was soaked outside. He wondered if they were making a child together in this magic moment, if his explosion was creating a new life.

  Inside Mariah.

  He hoped so. Visions of a family were now a thing to be anticipated, cherished, awaited with hope and knowledge that a future for them all existed. He could see Mariah round with his child, her belly holding the life they'd made together. Would he be a good father? He had no idea. But he was, for the first time ever, ready to find out.

  "Er, Marcus?"

  A question from the mother of his children-to-be distracted him. "Huh?"

  "You still there? I think you drifted off somewhere else for a minute or two."

  He grinned and eased away, letting Mariah's legs fall through the water so that she could support her own weight. "Never. I was just savoring the moment."

  "Mmm. There was a lot to savor." She shivered. "But I will admit that it's getting a little chilly."

  "Agreed."

  Pulled from his fantasy, Marcus also sensed the chill of the night replacing the warm breeze and he hurried Mariah into her dress and back to the house. They laughed and dried themselves off, tidying away their damp clothing and finally snuggling together in Mariah's bed.

  They were both tired and Marcus knew he'd sleep well. There would be no more sexual adventures for the moment. But there was one thing he needed to do.

  "Mariah—are you still awake?"

  The head on his shoulder turned. "Mmm hmm. Just very relaxed." She brushed his naked chest with her lips.

  "Me too." He settled himself more comfortably on the pillow. "I want to tell you a story."

  She chuckled. "How lovely. I haven't had a bedtime story in so long, I can't remember when the last one was."

  "Good. I think you'll find this one—intriguing." He sobered. "And it's true."

  "All right. So...once upon a time..." she began for him.

  "Once upon a time, there was an evil creature masquerading as a beautiful woman. Her name was Thérèse and she lived in the depths of Europe..."

  Marcus spun his tale, leaving out nothing, relating how he'd met Thérèse in Rogaška, how she'd seduced him and what she'd been beneath her beauty. He talked of his mortal illness, a disease of the blood that had put a time limit on his life.

  And he told her of Rowan, their bond and the events that finally freed them all, including him.

  By the time he'd finished, the moon had set and the sky was dark. He could not see Mariah's face, but he could sense her stillness, the rapid beat of her heart as she absorbed the fantastic tale that had been his life.

  "Can this be true?" She whispered the words.

  "All of it. It sounds unbelievable, I know. But I lived it. Rowan and Thérèse are settled farther down the coast. St. Chesswell's is a real place and I can assure you that Sir Sidney, Adrian, Katherine, Nick, Verity—they're all quite real."

  "It's—incredible." She moved then, reaching for his chest. "There is no mark of the sword, no scar—"

  "No, nothing. Just two tiny lines on my neck where I was bitten so very long ago. You wouldn't notice them unless I pointed them out."

  "And you're quite recovered? You no longer suffer from your illness?"

  "Completely cured, according to Sir Sidney. And I trust him. He's a scientist of great knowledge and also a good friend."

  "I'm—stunned." Mariah's head moved. "I scarce know what to say. It sounds like a legend. But you—you really met all these people? These—vampires?"

  "It's all true. Every word." Marcus sighed. "It's most strange how life and death can become merged and then reshape themselves into something quite new."

  Mariah yawned. "I need to think about it all, Marcus. I need time to try to understand."

  "I know. Sleep now."

  "For sure I shall have nightmares." She moved closer.

  "Then I shall hold you until they pass."

  "To think how close you came to death..." Her voice was fatigued and she yawned again. "And how close I came to never knowing you. Never loving you..."

  Marcus stilled. She loved him? Or did she simply mean the sexual things they'd done?

  He would have asked her, but a tiny snuffle told him she'd succumbed to exhaustion. It had been a long day, capped by extraordinary sex. He supposed telling her he'd been bitten by a vampire wasn't quite enough to keep her awake much longer.

  But he'd bet she'd have more questions in the morning.

  With a smile on his lips, Marcus closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep with the pleasant knowledge that his heart pillowed the woman he wanted more than anything.

  For a man who'd experienced so much that was strange and deadly, it was—for once—a moment that he could simply classify as "perfect".

  Chapter Nine

  For the next couple of weeks, Mariah gave herself permission to luxuriate in the knowledge that she was sharing her life with the most unique man. It had gone beyond a sexual adventure into some strange new territory where Marcus had become essential to her well-being, her happiness—her very existence.

  And it was terribly wonderful.

  Wonderful, since for the first time she was not alone—in the sense that she had someone who could answer her questions, discuss her concerns with her, treat her as something precious and then take her to bed and fuck her until she melted into a puddle.

  Terrible in that it had to end. It was an idyll she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams and yet hovering over it was the shadow of their eventual parting. Because it could not last indefinitely.

  The weather turned cool, the clouds moved in and rain began to fall, a sure harbinger that autumn had brought its stranglehold to the countryside. There was work to be done and Mariah, in complete astonishment, watched Marcus throw himself into the simple life of a farmer. He followed Ned around, chatting, learning, helping gather the one or two late crops of vegetables, tending to the animals and generally making himself useful.

  She even discovered him with Peg one afternoon, sleeves rolled to the elbows, kneading dough.

  He seemed fascinated with every tiny detail of her life, poking and prying into the simplest of chores with enthusiasm.

  And every now and again he'd flash her a wickedly handsome grin and ask her to marry him once more.

  She would always snort and refuse with varying effectiveness. Most often he'd simply smile. Occasionally he'd shake his head. But his persistence was beginning to wear her down.

  What would happen if she said yes?

  Mariah shuddered at the mere thought. He would marry her, take her to whatever estates he owned and she'd spend the rest of her life trying to fit into the mold that Lady Camberley occupied. And there'd probably been a Lady Ca
mberley since before time began.

  She—Mariah—was a simple woman from a simple background. Yes, she was well-educated. But no education could ready anyone for the aristocracy. It was the sort of thing one had bred into one's bones.

  Then there was the question of an heir. She had no idea if she was even able to bear a child. She hadn't during her first marriage. And when her monthly courses had appeared right on schedule, she knew once again there was some doubt about her fertility. God knew she'd tested it recently.

  And apparently it had come up short.

  When she'd bluntly spoken of her current state to Marcus the night it had begun, he'd simply smiled, gathered her close and asked if she was cramping. Then he tucked her against his body and fallen asleep with his palm lying warmly across her belly.

  She had to confess that any minor pains she suffered were eased by his heat, but that didn't change matters.

  Staring from the kitchen window at the gloomy weather, Mariah knew that things were drawing to a head. If Marcus didn't leave soon, she didn't know if she'd be able to let him when the time finally came for his departure. Not without losing a part of herself forever.

  She'd been hurt enough. She didn't know if she could withstand the devastation of losing him.

  That evening, as they sat by the fire, Mariah decided to broach the subject once more. And this time, if at all possible, make it stick even if she had to use the fireplace poker to get it through his thick head.

  "Marcus." She rested her hands in her lap and looked at him as he lazed in a matching chair to hers and stretched his feet to the flames. It was a corner of the kitchen they'd made their own when the cool rains had begun.

  "Hmm?" His face turned to her and smiled sweetly.

  That was unfair. And damn him for knowing it. "We need to discuss matters."

  "What matters, my love?"

  "Our matters."

  He nodded. "I agree. I think the barn roof might need a little work before the worst of the winter sets in."

  Mariah gritted her teeth. "I wasn't referring to the barn."

  "No?" He blinked at her in surprise. "But it's important. With the storage in there and the latest calf..."

  "I know it's important. The rain does leak into the feed bin now and again..." She caught herself before Marcus could distract her. "But those are not the matters I wish to discuss."

  "Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. Are all your ladies quite well? I saw Nora Dunnigan when I was in the village yesterday. She tells me—"

  "Marcus." Mariah snapped out his name.

  "Yes?"

  "Shut. Up."

  His eyes widened and he stared at her in what would—on another face—have been innocent confusion. On his, it was a sign that he knew damn well what she wanted to discuss and was doing his best to avoid the topic.

  "I want to talk about something very important. I need to know when you're leaving."

  Marcus remained mum, looking at her with an odd expression in his eyes.

  "I know it has to happen. And it should happen soon before the winter sets in." Mariah waved her hands. "Although your presence has been accepted surprisingly well by everyone, you and I both know you can't ignore your duties to your houses or estates or whatever. I don't know about such things." She shrugged.

  Still Marcus said nothing.

  "You have been chivalrous enough to offer me marriage and time and again I've refused your generous proposals. Again, we both know how unsuitable such a thing would be."

  She paused, but no comments were forthcoming.

  "So, I ask again. What are your plans? I would suggest that you make them soon. The weather will go downhill from here on. Roads will become a nuisance and then, if there's snow, all but impassable."

  Marcus blinked.

  "Say something."

  He shook his head.

  "Why not?"

  "You told me to shut up. I'm simply following orders."

  Mariah reached for the poker.

  He laughed and held up his hands. "All right, all right. You don't need to resort to violence."

  "You make it damn hard not to."

  "Forgive me?"

  How could she refuse him? He sat so comfortably, looking at home and relaxed in the informal atmosphere of her kitchen, for heaven's sake. Once again, her heart lurched just from the sight of him.

  It probably always would.

  She straightened her shoulders. "This is serious, Marcus."

  "I know, love. It would be much easier if you'd just accept my proposal."

  "Nonsense. That's the height of absurdity and you know it."

  "So you say."

  "So I know. We've been over this. I've explained to you why I would make the most unsuitable wife for someone of your status. I've also explained the hundred and one other reasons why we wouldn't suit. I've thanked you politely, thanked you with my tongue between my teeth and come close to smacking you with a cooking pot a few times, but still you refuse to accept my decision." Mariah glared at him. "What the devil is wrong with you?"

  Marcus sighed and stood up. "Not a damn thing. Come on. Let's go to bed."

  "Oh, good grief." She tossed her hands in the air.

  He grinned. "So you'll marry me?"

  Mariah frowned fiercely at him even as she gave him her hand and let him pull her to her feet. "No."

  Undaunted, he kept on grinning. "That's my girl. Never give an inch."

  "You're—you're incorrigible."

  "It's all part of my charm." He put a log on the fire, checked that the screen was in place and turned for the door. "But you're right."

  "I am?" She paused. "About what?"

  "It's time to settle this for once and for all."

  "Oh."

  "Tomorrow, I think."

  "Tomorrow what?"

  Marcus put his finger to her lips. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything." He led her upstairs, pausing only to blow out the candles on the way. "It's gone on long enough."

  Mariah's heart dropped to her boots as she followed him silently.

  So it had come. Tomorrow he would finally leave.

  And her life would never be the same.

  *~*~*~*

  Mariah had been right, mused Marcus as he rode home late the next afternoon. The winter was fast approaching and the wind had a bite to it that gnawed through his coat to his bones.

  He'd hated the flash of pain he'd seen in her eyes when he'd come into the kitchen in the morning and told her he was off to run a few final errands. But Peg had been there and Mariah had done nothing but nod.

  However, that flash of emotion told him everything he needed to know. Mariah might not have ever weakened enough to tell him she loved him in so many words, but he knew—just knew—she did. Any schemes he might have in mind...well, they were all justified if the end result took that pain away.

  And got him what he wanted at the same time.

  A wife.

  Now he was returning, his tasks accomplished, the stage set for their final showdown.

  And oddly enough, he was nervous.

  Not about Mariah or that she didn't love him enough to spend the rest of her life with him. No, she'd shown her feelings every time they touched, every time they loved, in the small things and the large. And above all, she'd shown it in her eyes each time they met his.

  It was there, the heat of passion, the warmth of desire, the urgent quickening of something within her that found a mate in his own heart.

  A heart that beat faster as he rode around the back of the farmhouse and found Ned finishing up the day's chores.

  "Hello, Ned. Bit on the cold side today."

  "That 'tis, Sir Marcus. That 'tis." The old man nodded. "You all ready then, are you?"

  "I am, my friend." Marcus grinned. "You remember what you and Peg must do, right?"

  Ned grinned back. "Aye."

  "That's good. Thank you." He tossed the reins to Ned. "Hold him ready. I'll be out again shortly."
/>   With more ceremony than usual, Marcus strode into the kitchen. "Mariah?" He shouted for her, making Peg giggle as she busied herself with pots of something on the stove. He frowned at her as he heard Mariah's step on the stairs and held his finger to his lips. She nodded back.

  "What on earth—Marcus, are you all right? You're shouting loud enough to wake the dead." Mariah hurried in, her hair askew. "I was turning out the winter linens."

  "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to tell you I won't be here for dinner tonight. Rogue Chambers has invited me over to the regimental mess and I've rather neglected him, so I thought it would be all right to accept."

  "Of course."

  He noticed her throat move as she swallowed.

  "And there's a chap heading back to London tomorrow. He says I might ride with him if I wish."

  She turned away then. "Ah. Well, that'll be nice."

  He ached, knowing the pain he must be causing with his words. But it was necessary. It was her own fault, damn her, for being so bloody stubborn.

  "Good. I knew you wouldn't mind." He lied through his teeth, of course, but fortunately she was staring in the other direction at the time. "Before I forget, Mrs. Partridge wants to know if you could stop by the vicarage at about five or so. She needs to ask you something about stuffing for the pew cushions."

  "Yes." It was a squawk more than an acknowledgement. "I'll take care of it." And she hurried from the room.

  "If you don't mind an old body saying so, Sir Marcus, that was downright cruel." Peg shook her head at him.

  "It had to be done, Peg. You know that."

  "I know, sir. And me 'n Ned'll be ready."

  He dropped a quick kiss on the wrinkled cheek. "Couldn't manage without you." He turned. "I must be off. I'll see you in a little while."

  Grinning broadly, Marcus strode from the kitchen and back to his horse. "Now, my friend. Now we shall see what this evening brings. And with any luck, you'll get a bit of a rest over the next week or so, because I shall be far too busy riding a much more attractive mount."