by Stacy Reid
And she did. There was no disappointment in the gaze peering at her, no bitterness, or betrayal. Only a desperate hope that he would not lose her, and a love so powerful she almost sank to her knees and wept her relief. This man saw her with all her flaws and adored her despite them.
“I’m sorry. I’ll never doubt you again,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears, not wanting to stop the hot trails as they washed away the crippling doubt that had held her for too long. “I love you, so much, Oliver.”
He kissed her again, and again, and again.
A storm of sensations washed over her senses. His lips moved from hers and began spreading a line of kisses over her jaw and down her neck. She held him to her, feeling safe, loved, the tearing emotions ebbing. They undressed, and he never stopped kissing her. Over her brows, her cheeks, then her lips again, sometimes rough, sometimes tender. She felt lost in a sea of bliss and arousal, a soft gasp escaping Lily as he lowered her to the bed and covered her body with his like a warm, sensual blanket.
“I love you, Lily,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against hers.
She could only stare up at him, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Lily lifted so very slightly and licked along the seam of his mouth. A fleeting smile touched his lips before he ravaged. He wasn’t rough. In fact, her love was gentle, yet his touch and every kiss was filled with fiery passion. He trailed his lips down, kissing soft globes of her breasts before licking the hardened tips of her nipples, drawing an eager moan from her throat. Heat raced through her veins and settled into the throbbing heart of her. “Oliver!”
He took his maddening kisses down to her stomach, where he lingered. A lump formed in her throat, and warmth blasted through her. She wasn’t frozen with fear at the wonderful and telling caress, only pure need, and she arched her hips in instinctive want. His tongue dipped into her navel, a quick flick before a lingering kiss. She savored the moment, and the love and acceptance he seemed to be communicating with his touch.
He went lower, and teeth nipped along her the insides of her thighs, followed by the tender ministrations of his lips. For a moment, she could barely breathe with wanting him in her, soothing the ache. Then he was there, but with his wicked tongue, which slid through the tender folds of her pussy with erotic precision. She wailed as pleasure knifed through her. He rose, his face heavy with desire, nudged her legs apart, then positioned himself and slid deep into the heart of her.
Oliver loved her with slow, easy strokes, gradually thrusting deeper over and over. Her hips arched, her hands ran down his sweat-slicked back to cup his buttocks, pulling him deeper into the heart of her.
“Without your love, I am incomplete,” she gasped tenderly.
A powerful need flared in his eyes, and he bent his head to brush his mouth along her temple then down to her lips, which he claimed in a deep kiss.
It could have been hours later, or a few minutes, but they were locked in a passion that had only room for the love they had for each other. When Lily climaxed, it was a gentle crash but deeply satisfying. With a groan, her love reached his pleasure right after.
Her fingers brushed his face. He pressed his brow against hers for a few seconds before rolling onto his back, taking her with him and tucking her into his side. She yawned, quite indelicately, burrowed into her marquess, and as the comfort of sleep claimed her, Lily knew she could never be happier.
Epilogue
Eight months later…
Lily felt as if she were dying. She was bent over the washbasin in her chamber, heaving. She had been feeling poorly this week, and it seemed the dreadful distemper of the stomach would not ease. Her love shifted her hair, which clung damply to her nape, and pressed a cool cloth against her forehead.
“Do you still want to cast up?” Oliver murmured, his eyes dark with worry.
“No, the feeling has abated, but I do feel tired.”
He handed her a glass of water, and she gently rinsed. The maid that had been hovering hurried over and took the washcloth and basin away. Oliver lifted Lily with effortless grace and placed her in the center of their bed. The fire from the hearth blazed, providing much-needed warmth. Still, she shivered and tugged the sheets over her body.
A knock sounded against the door.
“Come.”
The door opened, and she almost wept with relief when her brother-in-law strolled in. His dark brown hair was ruffled, and his kind eyes settled on her. He winked, and Lily smiled. Her sister had fallen in love with David only a few days after meeting him. Lily had thought it improbable, but their love had only grown deeper over the years.
“My lord,” he said, dipping into a bow. Then he turned to Lily, a concerned frown pleating his brows.
“May I have a few minutes alone with your marchioness, my lord?”
Oliver glanced at her, and she smiled reassuringly. He left, granting them privacy, but she knew he would not go far.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” David murmured.
“Wretched, just wretched. I have been casting up my accounts three times every day for the past week. My lower back aches, and I feel terribly exhausted most days.”
“I’ll have you right in no time.”
Relaxing at that confident declaration, she allowed him to examine her. If she were the blushing sort, her sensibilities would have been mortified at his thoroughness.
When he finished, David was smiling.
“I am clearly not dying if you are amused.”
“This is a smile of pleasure, I assure you.”
“What is it?”
“You are with child.”
She jolted, a confused rush of emotions tangling through her. “With child!”
His voice droned on, and she only half listened, drowning in a vortex of heartbreaking emotions. “David?”
“Yes, Lily?”
“I need my husband,” she gasped out.
“Did you hear what I explained?” he asked gently.
“I did. Would you please get the marquess?”
David left, and a short moment later, Oliver strolled in, his disheveled hair a testament to his worry.
“Hold me,” she sobbed.
Her love complied immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and dragging her to him, burying his face in her hair. “Did David give you a good report?”
“He didn’t tell you?” she whispered, fighting the tears that thickened in her throat.
“I confess, I rushed past him the minute he was through the door.”
“Oliver…”
He took her mouth with gentle kisses of reassurance. “What is it, my sweet?”
She swiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks despite her desire to hold them checked. She settled her hands across her stomach, battling the anxiety rising to choke her. “He says…he says I am with child. And I’ll be terribly ill and will have to endure early confinement.”
Her love froze. “A child?”
“I know…I am afraid to feel such hope. He said the severity of my symptoms indicate I might miscarry.”
He gathered her into his arms, one of his hands curving around her neck, fingers working to massage the tension out of her. “I’ll not allow it,” he vowed.
“You make me feel safe when you hold me.” Lily fitted her body more comfortably into his and inhaled his calming scent. “Oliver—”
“No, my sweet. No doubts, no fear. Only joy, thankfulness, and love. We’ll do everything that we must, and we’ll pray to God to keep our family, but we’ll not despair or lose faith. A child is such a miracle, it deserves no negative emotions, wouldn’t you agree?”
His assurance crept through her, stealing into her soul, filling it with warmth and love. “You are the miracle,” she whispered, her throat and heart tight with emotions.
“You won’t say that when I won’t allow you to even lift a book,” he said mildly.
He kissed the tip of her nose, the corners of her mouth, before settling on her lips. Lily knew the n
ext several months would be difficult, but she was no wilting flower, and she would do everything that was asked of her and more. “I’ll not lose faith,” she promised.
“That is all I ask, my sweet. That, and to never stop loving me.”
She trailed her fingertips over his face, gently touching every beloved line. “Never.”
Then her husband kissed her, holding her close…and nothing else mattered for a very long time.
Dearest Diary,
I’ve never been so happy or content. I write my final entry, for I believe it is time I put you away. I’ve written my deepest secrets and hopes within these pages, and my unhappiness and shame have been immortalized. I now wish to end my journey by sharing my greatest happiness with you. I’m the wife of Oliver Carlyle, the Marquess of Ambrose. And only last week gave birth to Caroline Elizabeth Carlyle and Alexander Edward Carlyle.
Cheers,
Lily Carlyle, Marchioness of Ambrose.
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Acknowledgments
I thank God every day for loving me with such depth and breadth. Nothing can take his love from me.
To my husband, Du’Sean, you are so damn wonderful. Your feedback and support are invaluable. I could not do this without you.
Thank you to my wonderful friend and critique partner Gina Fisovera. Without you I would be lost!
Thank you to my amazing editor, Alycia Tornetta, for being so patient when I miss my deadlines (which is always) and for being overall a kickass, amazing, wonderful, and super super stupendous editor.
To my wonderful readers, thank you for picking up my book and giving me a chance! Thank you. Special THANK YOU to everyone who leaves a review—bloggers, fans, friends. I have always said reviews to authors are like a pot of gold to leprechauns. Thank you all for adding to my rainbow one review at a time.
About the Author
I am an avid reader of novels with a deep passion for writing. I especially love romance and enjoy writing about people falling in love. I live a lot in the worlds I create, and I actively speak to my characters (out loud). I have a warrior way, “Never give up on my dream.” When I am not writing, I spend a copious amount of time drooling over Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead, Lucas Hood from Banshee, watching Japanese Anime, and playing video games with my love—Du’Sean. I also have a horrible weakness for ice cream.
I am always happy to hear from readers and would love for you to connect with me via Website | Facebook | Twitter
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Happy reading!
Stacy
Also by Stacy Reid…
Accidentally Compromising the Duke
Wicked in His Arms
How to Marry a Marquess
The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding
The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell
Sins of a Duke
The Royal Conquest
The Earl in My Bed
Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night
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