Falling for the Marquess (American Heiress Trilogy Book 2)

by Julianne MacLean

  She was thrusting her hips against him while she begged. It was too much. He was losing the fight. Then she reached into his trousers and took a firm, determined hold of his desire.

  “Please,” she whispered again in his ear, more urgently.

  The bed seemed to shift beneath him, and that was that.

  He reached down in a fumbling panic that was completely outside his natural smooth approach and ripped his pants off like a randy schoolboy.

  How much time did they have? A quarter of an hour? Let it be more than that.

  A second later he was nude, pressing himself into the soft moist heat between her thighs.

  “Are you certain?” he asked one last time, praying she wouldn’t change her mind now.

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation there.

  She nibbled on his earlobe, leading him into a swirling eddy of pleasure until he was long gone, past the point of no return.

  His whole being trembled with need as the head of his desire came to a quiet pause at the entrance to her sweet, welcoming haven. Slowly he edged himself inside as wave upon wave of pleasure enveloped him. He kissed her deeply and she wrapped her legs around his hips, and she pulled him into her, her fingernails digging into the firm flesh of his back.

  Her body arched into his. He shifted, hesitated for a moment, then thrust slowly forward, as gently as possible, into the tight hollow between her thighs. It wasn’t long before he felt the rupture of her delicate womanhood.

  Clara whimpered in his ear and the awareness of the physical pain he had caused her brought him to a halt. “I’m sorry for that,” he whispered as he kissed her neck.

  She clung to his shoulders and squeezed him tightly. “Don’t be. I wanted it.”

  Pushing himself up on one elbow, the other arm stretched across her, he gazed down at her face in the flickering candlelight. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The vision of her beneath him with her hair splayed out on the pillow was so astounding, so humbling, it made his chest ache.

  She took his face in her hands and stroked his cheek, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  Feeling a passionate jolt, and awakening from what felt like a dream, Seger paused for a moment to think, realizing this was only the second time in his life that he had taken a woman’s virginity. It had been twelve years since the first time, and he had not thought about it in ages. Tonight, he felt almost like a virgin himself.

  Lowering his mouth to hers, careful not to hurt her, Seger pushed more deeply into her soft, heated depths. Together they moved in harmony, seeking a satisfaction they had both been craving since the first night they’d met and kissed under the stairs.

  She was his now. Forever. She would be his wife and share his bed each night. He wanted it to begin now. He didn’t want to wait two months, but this was how the world worked, he supposed.

  Suddenly a pounding wave of pleasure crashed over him and he quickened inside his future wife, feeling a blinding rush of gratification. She dug her fingernails into his back and pushed her hips upward, squeezing around him.

  Just then, somewhere in the house, a clock chimed four times. He collapsed upon Clara, utterly spent.

  Clara tried to lift her head off the pillow, but it fell back. “Stay where you are,” she whispered. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But I made you a promise,” he replied, ribbing her on, without withdrawing from the splendors of her womanhood.

  “This is the one and only time I will let you break a promise to me.”

  He chuckled at that.

  “Unless we are in this same situation again,” she added, “in which case I hope you will do whatever I ask.” Her voice trailed off. “I had no idea it could feel like this.”

  He kissed her cheeks and nose and felt a great groundswell of affection.

  She’d just said she had no idea it could feel like this, when in fact it was he who was bewildered. He had just made love to a virgin—a virgin he’d already proposed to—and he felt wholly content. All seemed right with the world, except for the fact that he would soon have to slip out of her bed and make a hasty departure.

  His gaze roamed over her face, then he rolled off her.

  He was accustomed to this routine—rolling off a lady, then reaching for his trousers and making himself scarce—but tonight it felt wrong and frustrating and the reaction was completely foreign to him. He felt like he was already home, and he should not have to leave.

  Clara snuggled into him and rested her cheek on his chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “Me too.”

  “When will we be able to do this again? I’m not sure I can wait until September.”

  He was quite certain that he couldn’t. “Then let’s get married sooner.”

  She rose up on an elbow. “Really? How soon are you thinking?”

  “Tomorrow would be nice.”

  She chuckled softly. “Tomorrow would be nice indeed, but my mother won’t arrive until next week.”

  “I look forward to meeting her,” he magnanimously replied. “What about next week, then, by special license?”

  Clara’s eyebrows lifted. “All of my family needs to be here.”

  “They could all get here within a week, couldn’t they?”

  She stared at him for a moment, considering it. “Your stepmother is making plans for September.”

  “Plans can be changed. There is no reason to wait. In fact, it’s dangerous to wait because I am sure I won’t be able to stay away from you, and we can only rely on luck for so long. We’ll get caught eventually, and on top of that, we’d go insane. I would at any rate.”

  “I would, too.”

  He held her cheek in his hand. “Then marry me sooner than September. Put me out of my misery.”

  “There would be talk.”

  “You know I don’t care about that sort of thing.”

  Clara sat up and grinned at him. “Why are you so persistent all the time? I can never say no to you.”

  He brought a finger to his lips to remind her to speak softly. “Shh. And I don’t want you to say no. I want you to say yes.”

  “I already said yes. To everything so far. We have to draw the line somewhere.”

  Seger frowned. “Why draw a line? Why deny ourselves? Why not simply have what we want?”

  She stared at him in the candlelight, then her face changed. Her voice lost its playful tone. “You’re used to that, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Taking what you want without considering the practicalities or social restrictions. Must everything be about pleasure and immediate self-gratification? Is that all you want?”

  “Clara,” he whispered as he sat up. “Don’t.”

  She continued whispering angrily, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Can you not abide by society’s rules just this once and suffer through the usual betrothal?” She reached for her nightgown and pulled it on over her head, then climbed off the bed and walked to the window where she stood with her back to him.

  Seger raked a hand through his hair. “Something tells me there is more to that question than the obvious.”

  It almost seemed as if she wanted to make him wait—in order to use their engagement as a test of his ability to resist temptations.

  She merely shrugged.

  He climbed off the bed and went to her. He stood behind her, feeling the soft fabric of her gown against his nude front. He tried to ignore the urge to take her into his arms, carry her back to the bed and plunge into her again, to go back to the way they were feeling only a few moments ago.

  “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered. “I’ve never taken what I wanted from you when I had every opportunity. Even tonight I would have resisted if you had not been so persistent.”

  The fact that h
e was even discussing this was astonishing. Any of his previous lovers would be shocked to see him defending himself like this. It was a tremendous concession, and he wished she knew that.

  She dropped her face into her hands. “Maybe you should go.”

  “Go? Why?” He tried to keep the shock and anger out of his voice because he was afraid that if he didn’t, someone might hear them. He had to keep this argument to a whisper. “What’s this really about?”

  She said nothing for a few seconds, then turned to face him. Her eyes were filling with tears. “I’m nervous about marrying you.”

  He tried not to let her confession vex him, but it did. It damn well did. He had come forward leaps and bounds to reach this point with her. He had proposed to her, for pity’s sake!

  She bowed her head. “You can’t blame me for being unsure. I am a prime target for fortune hunters, and you have made it very clear that you don’t truly love me. How can I be sure you will be a good husband?”

  He backed away from her. “I am no fortune hunter. You know that.”

  She merely stared at him.

  “This is about my being faithful to you,” he said.

  God, women were so bloody complicated. Normally, he would walk away when his bed partner began to talk like this, or even hint at talking like this, but with Clara, he couldn’t. He was in for the long haul and there was no turning back now. Not after what they’d done tonight.

  She let out a heavy breath. “If you can’t endure two months, how can I be sure you’ll be able to endure any reasonable length of time in a marriage? Sometimes there are temptations, and I’m afraid you are not even going to try to resist them. What about when I am enormous with child and unable to perform my wifely duty? What if I become ill? I won’t be attractive to you then. Will you go back to your usual entertainments?”

  He turned away from her and picked up his trousers. “Maybe I should go.”

  She watched him pull them on. The volume of her voice rose a fraction. “Wait, Seger.”

  “The servants will be up soon.”

  He donned his shirt, then sat down on a chair to pull on his boots in a hurry. He wanted to get out of there. He felt her hovering over him. Women never did that to him. They knew better than to push. They knew that if he was going to return another day, they would have to let him go without a fight.

  He felt impatient with Clara, for he was not accustomed to rules or controls. For eight years he had lived freely. He had steered away from responsibility and commitment.

  He didn’t like feeling impatient with her. She was different from the others. He didn’t want to feel this way with her, but he supposed that old habits were not so easy to change. This bloody boot!

  Clara followed him around the bed. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. It’s just that a lot has happened these past few days, and we just.... We just....”

  Her voice shook and Seger looked up.

  She was distraught. He’d just taken her virginity and all her choices were gone. She probably felt vulnerable and confused, and—what was wrong with him?—she was most certainly sore down there. Bloody hell, he was an idiot. He knew nothing. In eight years, he had never let himself feel responsible for a woman’s happiness. He’d avoided women who pushed toward intimacy and commitment. Now suddenly here he was, up to his ears in commitment and obligation and probably tears, too, if this continued in the direction it seemed to be going.

  He was completely out of his realm of experience. He was fine with seductions and physical attachments—more than fine—but he didn’t know the first thing about emotional intimacy and how to handle a woman who was upset. But now he was to be someone’s husband and he had no choice but to stay. He couldn’t don his boyish charm and tease his way out the room like he normally did.

  He suddenly felt as if he had bitten off more than he could chew.

  Then he saw Clara’s nightgown quiver and knew she was fighting a full-blown sob.

  He couldn’t let her cry. Someone would hear. He felt a shameless, shallow need to stop her from crying, only to keep the silence, and an even more shallow need to get out of there as soon as she collected herself.

  Something else took over, however. Perhaps it was compassion or affection for Clara. Perhaps it was merely the need to fix the situation. He had no idea.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the room and was gathering her into his arms. All that mattered to him was her comfort and happiness. Her needs became more important than his own.

  His voice was gentle and soothing. “Why did you insist we make love if you weren’t sure?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “I couldn’t think about anything except that I wanted you. Now it’s settling in, and I think I’ve just realized the gravity of what we’ve done, and I’m scared. I feel very alone.”

  Alone. She felt alone? His heart began to pound.

  “But I can’t do anything about it,” she continued, wiping under her nose, “because I can’t turn back the clock.”

  He rubbed her shoulders and stroked her hair. “And the fact that you can no longer change your mind about marrying me has spooked you.”

  She nodded.

  It bloody well spooked him, too, but he knew better than to say it.

  “There is nothing to fear, Clara. We’ll be married soon. If we hadn’t done this tonight, we would have done it eventually—on our honeymoon at least, which is only two months away. A mere sliver in time. Do not feel that you are alone.”

  But how would he ever prevent her from feeling that way? He was here. He’d just made love to her, and she felt alone. Even though he was holding her in his arms.

  Clara nodded, and he relaxed somewhat, knowing he had eased her mind a fraction, at least. Still, the urge to leave lingered, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was a result of the servants’ impending appearance, or the subject matter of this conversation.

  Either way, he had to go, and she knew it. At least he had a good reason to slip out. Quickly, he pulled on his waistcoat and jacket while she watched him in silence. “I really do have to go before people are up and about.”

  “I know.” She crossed toward him, looking vulnerable and uncertain. Even her voice had changed. It did not hold her usual confidence. “I’m sorry, Seger. Now I feel foolish for the things I said. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  He gathered her into his arms again. “No need to feel foolish. You did something you hadn’t planned to do tonight. It’s only natural.”

  Natural that she would regret what they’d done. Something tightened in his chest, but he tried to ignore it because he didn’t understand it. He’d never felt any self-doubt after making love to a woman. He’d always walked away secure in the knowledge that he had pleased his partner and the session had been a success.

  He should walk away now. He wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to do it. He couldn’t leave her like this. “Let’s do it sooner.”

  Her eyes were wide with innocence as she blinked up at him. “Do what?”

  “Get married, like I said before. I know that’s what started this argument, but you don’t need to make me wait to test me against temptation. Let me marry you and prove that I am completely devoted. If I were not, I would be putting it off. I want you and no one else. That is what lies at the heart of this. It’s why I want to skip the elaborate wedding and keep it simple. We could do it the week after next.”

  What the bloody hell was he doing? The more uncertain he became, the faster and deeper he dug the hole.

  “Seger, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel better.” But he was, and he knew it. “I just don’t want to wait, it’s as simple as that. Besides, you might be carrying my child.”

  Worry flooded her eyes.

  It was wretched of him to resort to
that, but he forged ahead. “Let’s make the leap. You will have my total commitment and I promise, after the wedding day, all these doubts and fears will disappear.” What he really meant was that if he put a ring on her finger and signed the papers, she wouldn’t feel guilty about making love to him, and they wouldn’t need to have this difficult conversation again.

  “You will be my wife,” he added, “and we will become a respectable married couple. Who could ever have imagined it?”

  That at least got a smile out of her. “I think I’d like to be respectable.”

  Seger chuckled. “You would? I’m about to enter a whole new world.”

  The tension lifted and she rested her forehead on his chest. “What about the honeymoon? You’ve made arrangements for September.”

  “We’ll simply wait and go then. This way, you’ll have time to settle in to your new home.”

  She laughed at the absurdity of such a rushed affair. “Go, before someone catches you sneaking out of here.”

  “Not without an answer.” She was still resting her forehead on his chest and he wished he could see her face. “An answer, darling. The week after next?”

  She gazed up at him in the candlelight, then at last she replied, “All right, but only because I want to share a bed with you again.”

  Her answer pleased him greatly. What could he say? He was a man, and bed was the one place he felt confident in knowing his way around.

  He turned to leave, but Clara stopped him with a question. “Seger? Was I your first virgin?”

  He halted, closed his eyes, and wished she had not asked him that. “What does it matter?” He did not see the point in the question.

  “But was I?”

  He slowly turned, faced her, and paused. “No.”

  “Have there been many?”

  “No. Only one.”

  She blinked a few times. “Daphne?”

  “Yes.”

  Hearing a thump in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Seger knew it was time for him to vamoose. He hesitated a moment, however, for he could see the distress in Clara’s eyes and wished he could stay to make it disappear. He wanted her to know that Daphne was in the past. She was forgotten. There was no need for Clara to feel as if she were not the most important woman in the world to him.