by Jade Lee
“Come for me,” she said, barely knowing what it meant, but liking the echo of his words.
His eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned. It was as if she had let loose his reins. Suddenly, he was thrusting into her harder than before. A wild tempo of impalement. Again and again.
His breath rasped in her ears as she held on. Her body thrummed with every impact, and she felt her body spiraling up with him. Another glorious splintering soon, but this time with him. He slammed one last time, and his body shuddered.
She felt him deep, saw his face as he surrendered to the release, and thought for a split second: This man gave everything. No half measures, no partial gifts, but everything. To a woman who made lists, measured every word, and never gave everything of anything to anyone. This was almost beyond comprehension.
Then he took her with him. Her body exploded. No half measures, no itemized list. Everything she was changed completely.
And she was amazed.
Twenty-two
It was done. She was his, and the magnitude of that gift robbed him of speech.
He collapsed beside her on the bed, careful not to crush her. She was still languid with pleasure, and he was thankful he’d managed to control himself long enough for her to come again. It had been a near thing, but this time—and every time—should be perfect for her.
He reached out and gathered her to him. She snuggled close, settling her head on his shoulder, her breasts on his chest, and her hand in his. He pressed a kiss to her fingers, feeling the rightness in that. She belonged with him.
She slept.
He drowsed, but forced himself to stay awake. She had gifted him with her body; the least he could do was be sure to keep it safe. And that meant being careful that she returned home before her reputation was destroyed.
A half hour.
An hour.
He spent the time making plans for her dowry. He would make Sommerfield into a paradise. And he would do it with her.
* * *
“Mari. Wake up, sweetheart. We need to get you home.”
Mari hated waking. When she slept, she went deep and generally refused to get up until she was ready. But there was something special about rousing to the sound of Peter’s voice. To the gentle way he squeezed her shoulder and nibbled at her lips.
She opened her eyes on a smile, and she stretched her arms around him. Up this close, she could see his eyes crinkle as he returned her smile, and she was reminded again how handsome he was. Then she ruined the moment with a jaw-cracking yawn. She slammed a hand to her mouth to cover it, but it was too late. He’d already seen it.
“Sorry,” she said behind her hand.
He grinned and pulled it away from her mouth. “Don’t ever hide from me. I want to see it all.”
She shuddered in horror at the thought. “No man wants to see everything.”
“I do.” Then he pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose before pulling her upright. “But we cannot linger here. Not unless you want everyone to know what we have done tonight.”
It was a testament to how far she’d fallen that part of her didn’t care. They were to be married. What difference did it make if things were done quicker than completely proper? But it was a very small part. She’d been reared to be a lady, and no lady lingered in a man’s bed before marriage. Unless…
“Surely we have time for—”
He kissed her. Swift and hard in all the best ways. But just as she was beginning to truly enjoy it, he set her apart from him.
“A lifetime with you will not be enough to satisfy me. So for now I will get you safely home.”
She laughed, but then heard the rumble of a dray on the street. Surely it was too early for that.
He must have seen her confusion, because he answered her question before she could ask it.
“It is just after four.”
Four? She gaped at him. “But the servants will be up soon.”
His expression turned wry. “Just so.”
She grimaced as she quickly donned shift and coarse stockings. The shoes were distasteful, since they pinched her feet, but it was nothing compared to the hatred she felt for her corset. But as the dress was too tight for her, it was wear it laced rib-crackingly tight or go naked in the street.
“You must help me,” she said as she fitted the garment to her chest.
“I dislike that you must be disguised,” he said as he quickly closed the buttons on his own attire.
“No more than I. Believe me, I will be the one gasping for air.” She twisted so the ties were facing him. “Next time, I shall be sure to barter with a larger woman.”
He gripped the ties but didn’t pull. “There will be no next time. I will not put you in danger like that again.”
“You didn’t put me there in the first place,” she countered. “I found you. Now pull. It’s almost daylight.” It was far from daylight, but she was beginning to fear discovery and was anxious to be demurely back at home.
He pulled the ties, but not hard enough. She could still take a breath. She cast him an arch look. “Is that all the power you have, my lord?”
He blinked then frowned down at the garment. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
“A woman does what she must to find a husband.”
He hauled on the ribbons, but again, he was holding back. At this rate, she’d never be able to close the gown. Meanwhile, he grumbled into her ear, “You have already found a husband.”
“Which means I will have to appear as a countess at your side. You will not want me looking fat.”
“I would have you naked in my bed and never in one of these things again.”
She chuckled, shaking her head at his silliness. He truly did mean what he said, but she knew there were requirements of a lord and his lady. He would see to the land and his people. She would have to see that they were respected in Society and acted in a proper fashion.
“Come now, my lord. It is bind me tight now, or take me home in a gown that gapes in the front for all to see.”
That was enough to spur him to action. With a grunt, he set one hand to her waist while the other hauled back on the ties. She exhaled as she must, and within moments, she was restricted as any not wayward Welsh could possibly be.
“Excellent,” she said. Quietly and with a shallow pant.
“Abhorrent. I like you better lush.” Then he turned her around, and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Though I suppose there are some advantages,” he murmured as he stroked a finger slowly across her breasts.
She felt her skin heat, and her breath caught. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
She needn’t have asked. He was already leaning in. So they kissed. Not deeply, but long. And when they separated, his gaze was intense.
“We will marry as soon as the banns are read.”
She dropped her hands on her hips. “I cannot manage a wedding fit for an earl in three weeks’ time.”
“Between you and my mother, I am sure you can.”
“But—”
“I have waited six years for you, Mari. I am impatient to begin our life together.”
She’d been dreaming of the day she’d be mistress of a home since she was old enough to pick up a doll and order her brother’s soldiers around. “Finish the contract with my father, and I will see what can be done about the wedding.”
He agreed with a swift kiss. “Hurry now. If we linger much longer, I will have you back in my bed.”
She smiled at that thought and pulled on the gown. It was tight, but she managed it, though there was nothing to be done about her hair. The pins were long gone. She tied it back, pulled on the heavy shoes, and pronounced herself ready. Two minutes later, they were in a hackney and headed to her home. It wasn’t a long distance, but they spent every moment in each other’s arms. She doubted she wo
uld ever tire of kissing him. Then the hackney stopped. She would have lingered, but he refused to allow it.
“How will you get in?”
“I have a key to the back. Everyone’s asleep and won’t stir for another hour.” Half hour more like, but she didn’t quibble.
“Have you done this before?”
“No, but my sister did. Sometimes she just needed to run free, even in London.”
“Dangerous.”
“I know. But she was quick and careful. Just like I will be.”
He nodded, pressed a last kiss to her lips, then pushed open the door. “I will call on your father today.”
“I will be waiting.” Then she hopped out of the hackney and ran as quickly as was possible in the corset around to the kitchen entrance. She opened the door quietly, tiptoeing as she slipped inside. But a moment later, she realized her mistake.
The kitchen was well lit.
She turned slowly, dread rising from the pit of her stomach to choke off her breath. Then she turned around to see her parents, the cook, a young boy, and Horace, all staring at her.
“Sodding hell,” cursed her father.
She couldn’t help but agree. What was she supposed to do now? Her best choice, she decided, was to distract them, so she smiled at the dirty boy eating some honey bread. “Hullo there. You’re a new face.”
Her father slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone jump. “Where the devil have you been?”
“At Lord Vinson’s ball,” she said with a bright smile. “It, er, was a masquerade ball.”
Her mother huffed out a breath. “It was not!”
“Well, it was for me. Afterward.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice dropped to a more menacing level. “You said you were staying with Georgette.”
“Yes, well, I intended to.” Lies upon lies. “But my help was needed elsewhere and…um…in disguise.” This was not going well at all. However had her sister managed to sneak about? One wayward night, and Mari was floundering. She glanced significantly at Horace, then back at her father. “Must we discuss this right now?”
Her mother sniffed. She had the angriest sniff of any woman alive. “I rather think it’s too late to try discretion now.”
“Mother—” she began, but she hadn’t a clue what she wanted to say. And then her brain finally caught up to the situation. At least as far as the people in the room, as she focused on the boy. “Wait a moment. Are you Tie?”
The boy’s eyes were round, and his mouth was jammed full, but he still managed to nod at her.
“You’re the reason I’m dressed like this. We’ve been searching all over dockside for you.”
“Mercy me,” murmured the cook.
“Dockside!” gasped her mother.
“We?” said her father with a growl.
Trust her father to narrow in on exactly the point she wished to avoid. He could be angry at her all he liked. Heaven knows she deserved it, given what she’d really done this night. But she did not want that fury turning on her future husband. That would not do at all.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said much too brightly as she focused on the child. “The point is that finally we’ve—that I’ve finally found you. Or you found me. Was it Ellie who told you?”
The boy nodded his head. He’d finished off his bread and was reaching for his cup of honey tea. But when she stepped toward the child, her father intercepted, his hand hard on her wrist.
“What have you been up to, Mari?” His voice was low and dark. Darker than she’d ever heard from her father.
“Papa, it’s nothing.”
His voice dropped to a low timbre, barely audible in the near-silent room. “Were you in my bedroom? Have you been looking at the ledger?”
She frowned. “What are you talking about? I haven’t been in your bedroom for weeks.” She looked to her mother, but the woman just shook her head, her expression sad. “Has something gone missing?”
“No, no,” said her mother. “Nothing’s gone.”
“It’s been touched. Damn it, I know when my things have been moved.”
Moved? Touched? Papa didn’t notice when Mama bought completely different furniture for the main parlor. It took him weeks to comment after Josephine laid off pastels in favor of brighter colors. And Mari believed he’d yet to realize the nursery had been remade into a sitting room eight years ago. But that wasn’t his ledger. About certain things, her father was obsessive.
“I don’t understand,” she began. Worse, she was rather disconcerted to realize he cared more about his ledger than that she’d walked in at dawn, wearing a tavern woman’s dress. Then she realized the thought had come too soon. Her father certainly did see what she wore and the hour. In fact, he made a point of sniffing her hair.
“Why do you smell like ale?”
How to answer that? “Well, I got into an accident while we were searching for Tie.”
A man’s voice came from behind. “She clapped two pints of ale across a villain’s head. I assure you, sir, I had no desire for her to be there, but she appeared nonetheless, and I was grateful for her assistance.”
She spun around to see Peter walking casually into the room, his expression rueful even as he nodded to her parents before looking intensely at the boy.
“Pet—um, Lord Whitly. What are you doing here?”
“I waited to make sure you got inside safely, then I heard the conversation.” He flashed her a sad look. “Do you realize you are the worst liar I have ever heard? A masquerade party?”
“I was in disguise,” she huffed. “It felt like a masquerade. Of sorts.” In truth, it had felt like the most fun she’d ever had. Until, of course, she had gone to his rooms and learned about even better amusements.
Meanwhile, her father straightened to his full, lanky height. “Strange goings-on here. My things touched. A dirty boy appearing, asking after my daughter. And now you say she was in a fight with a villain. You will explain yourself this instant, or I will have you clapped in irons.”
“Papa!”
“Quiet. I am waiting for Lord Whitly’s explanation.”
She reared up, furious about this, of all things, on this bizarre day. Her father demanding an explanation from Lord Whitly for her actions. “Well, you cannot have it,” she snapped. “I am the one who jumped a hackney on the way to the docks. I am the one who found Tie. And I am the one responsible for clapping Silas on the head with two tankards of ale.”
“Really, Mari,” gasped her mother. “And here I thought Josephine was the wild one.”
Mari threw up her hands. “She is, Mama. I am the wayward one.”
Her father banged down his hand again, the clap echoing loudly in the kitchen. “And what has that to do with anything?”
Everything. It had to do with everything, but she couldn’t begin to explain. Not with her father glaring daggers at Peter, and her fiancé accepting the blame for everything she had done. It was ridiculous, and she was tired of it.
“I am a grown woman, Papa, well into my majority.”
Her father flashed her an irritated grimace, but it was Peter who spoke, his voice calm and deliberate. “The servants will be rousing soon.” He glanced at the cook and butler. “The other servants. Perhaps there is a more private place we could speak?”
“Come to the library,” her father answered, his voice gruff.
Mama didn’t even bother getting to her feet, but Mari moved forward, only to be stopped by her father’s glare.
“I will call when I am ready to speak to you.”
She glared right back, but she knew better than to press the point when he was in this mood. Her father was not generally mercurial, but when he became angry, everyone in the household stayed away. She was still trying to decide what to do, when Peter spoke to the boy
.
“Tie, if you have finished eating, would you come with us? This concerns you.”
The boy nodded, his eyes round as he hopped up from his seat.
“A ten-year-old boy gets to join you, but I—”
Peter touched her lips. His finger was large, but still gentle. Generally, she would have had no trouble speaking past his gesture, but the intimacy of what he did shocked her into silence. Certainly he had the right to touch her so openly, but it was still an announcement nonetheless. He’d effectively told everyone in the room that a proposal was imminent. And if there were any doubts, his next words made everything clear.
“I told you I would speak with your father today.”
He had. She just hadn’t expected it to be fifteen minutes after she’d snuck in the kitchen door.
“I should be there. This concerns me.” Much more than it did the boy.
“Do you recall how you told me the dowagers would never dance the waltz?”
She nodded. “I won the wager.”
“Because you know Society much better than I. Women’s Society.” He glanced at her father, who was watching them with a steady gaze. “In this, I am better equipped to handle the discussions of men.”
“That was a ballroom game.”
“And this is our future together. I will take care with it.”
She wanted to say no! She wanted to stamp her foot like a child and then continue to stomp her feet right into the library. But she knew her father, and he would not tolerate such outright disobedience. The servants were watching, most especially Horrid Horace. She already appeared a scapegrace; she had no wish to compound that with a useless display of temper. Nevertheless, it grated on her to give way.
“Call me quickly,” she finally said.
“Of course,” he agreed. Then he gestured to Tie to precede him as the men trotted out of the kitchen to the library. Even Horace went, presumably to open the library door then stand with his ear pressed to it once the others were inside.
“Come along, Mari,” her mother said with a sigh. “You can explain it all to me as Cook heats water for a bath. You cannot spend the day smelling like a tavern.”