Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  She’d always loved him, she’d just been angry with him for a time. Her feelings had only grown stronger now that she’d met Lucas the man — flesh and blood. She’d felt a connection with him almost from the moment they’d met. It had grown stronger with each moment they’d spent together. Surly, autocratic, generous Lucas understood her as no other person could.

  He accepted and appreciated her for what she was. He never tried to change her to fit into the mold of Society’s idea of the perfect lady. He wanted to marry her. The knowledge made Penelope’s heart sing even as her stomach lurched with dread. He wanted to marry her, and his determination terrified her to the core. Because no matter how much he appreciated her, he didn’t love her. His only reason for wanting to marry her was to honor his father’s word. She had no right to chain him to her and keep him from finding someone he could love in the future. If she did, he’d end up tumbling ladies like her father.

  But she didn’t know if she had enough strength to refuse Lucas, to do the right thing and set him free. Penelope thought of what her future would be after he left Highfield Manor: empty. The twins would someday find partners and get married. And she would still be here, old and alone. Always alone, surrounded by bleating and clucking unwanted animals who, like her, didn’t belong anywhere. It would be almost funny, really, if it didn’t hurt so much. She felt like weeping.

  What a pickle she’d put herself in.

  “People began calling me Raving Ravenstone after my father died,” Lucas admitted, snapping her out of her thoughts. “I was sixteen, and I was angry then. Angry at the world, at my situation.”

  He held her hand, torturing her as his thumb caressed her palm. “One of the boys at school accused me of killing my father, and I beat him half to death. That’s when it started. People recalled my mother’s unstable disposition, and the epithet stuck, probably because of my size. I’ve always been a hulking brute.”

  Lucas gathered her into his arms as if he needed to reassure himself that she’d still welcome his touch. And despite all the turmoil she was in, her heart cried out for him. She lay her hand against his stubbled cheek, looked into the dark depths of his eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he quickly extinguished it and turned away from her.

  “Sorry for what?” Lucas retorted. “It’s not your fault people are idiots.”

  She waited for him to turn back to her. When he finally did, she put her hand on his arm to stay him. “I’m sorry for all the mean things they said about your parents. They had no right to do that.”

  He sighed. “Just as I had no right to expect you to wait for me for all these years. Forgive me, Penelope. If I had known you were waiting for me, I’d have come sooner.”

  His simple words meant more to her than she could ever say. She ducked her head and blinked back tears for the little girl whose dreams had been shattered by reality.

  She released his arm and started walking back to the manor. “It doesn’t matter anymore. One of the things Papa taught us is we should accept that life will not always be kind, and we should always focus on moving on.”

  “And have you moved on, Penelope? Have you forgiven me?” Lucas asked softly as he opened the manor’s back door, letting her precede him.

  “I have, now.” And she did. She hadn’t realized until tonight how much she’d needed to hear him acknowledge the pain she’d felt at his supposed abandonment.

  She turned back to check if he was following her up the stairs. Something about sneaking around the darkened manor late at night with a man she was dangerously attracted to made her feel like she was being … naughty.

  She continued talking to distract herself from the effect Lucas’s nearness had on her senses. “Papa says reality is what we make of it. Many people are so stuck living in their past or dreaming about their future, they forget the present is the only time we really have any control over. It’s what we do in the present that decides our future, and it’s the present that will become our past.”

  “So you’re saying we shouldn’t learn from our past or look forward to the future?” he whispered, so close behind her she could feel his warm breath caressing her nape.

  “Of course not,” she whispered back. “Only that we shouldn’t be living anywhere but in the present.” She certainly didn’t want to think of the future right then. She didn’t want to think of when he would be nothing more than a distant memory.

  They cleared the top of the stairs. When they reached her bedchamber, she put her hand on the door and turned to face him. He was standing so close, the tips of their boots touched. Perhaps she should invite him in. She was not ready to let him go yet.

  No, she decided. This was her stepfather’s house. There would be more appropriate places to start their affair.

  “Good night, Lucas,” she whispered. “Thank you for looking out for me.” She smiled up at him, turned, and carefully opened the door.

  Shock made her stop in her tracks when Lucas put his hand on the doorframe and followed her inside before closing the door with a soft click.

  “Do you realize what you are doing?” she whispered furiously, watching him as she tried to calm her rattled nerves and keep her voice low at the same time.

  The grin he gave her looked downright wolfish. “I’m living in the present,” he replied in a husky tone as he closed the distance between them. “And presently, I am alone with the most desirable woman I have ever known.” He cupped her cheek in his large hand. “Based on our past encounters, I have no doubt this one will affect both our futures.”

  Oh, God, if he only knew … her lips parted as she closed her eyes and released a tremulous breath while heat seeped through her veins.

  “Lucas, you promised not to ruin me,” she reminded him as she felt him remove her cloak, letting it fall into a pool of gold-trimmed velvet around her feet.

  “I know.” He tipped her chin up, silently urging her to meet his heated gaze. “Do you trust me, Penelope?”

  She opened her eyes and saw his solemn face. “Yes, Lucas, I trust you.” It was herself she couldn’t trust around him.

  “You’re not afraid of me at all, are you?”

  “No,” she replied sincerely. Then she smiled and added, “I mean, what can you possibly do? Kiss me to death?”

  He chuckled. “Watch it, nymph, or I just might do that.”

  “Hah! I’d like to see you try.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “Would you now?” he rasped as his mouth claimed hers in a fiercely tender kiss that was unlike any of the kisses they’d shared before.

  Lucas worshipped her mouth, his tongue plunging in to savor her, and sweetness poured through her veins as he shook the pins out of her hair, tumbling the entire silky mass around them.

  Her hands linked behind his neck, and without breaking the kiss, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the frilly bed, laying her gently in the middle of it as he followed her down. Only then did Lucas lift his mouth from hers.

  “Penelope,” he whispered. “Open your eyes.”

  Her lashes fluttered before she stared straight at him. He groaned when her hands cupped his face, and he turned his head to plant a kiss into her palm.

  “I won’t ruin you,” he vowed, as he removed his coat and tossed it to the side of the bed.

  “You won’t ruin me,” she said to reassure him, before pulling him down to her.

  He stopped a mere an inch from her lips and met her gaze. “Unless you want me to?” he asked, half serious.

  Penelope smiled. “Kiss me, Lucas.”

  Lucas kissed her. Hungrily, deeply, with a savage urgency he’d never shown before. She moaned in pleasure as his hands roamed freely over her, claiming her breasts, while he parted her legs with his knee and settled hi
mself between her thighs.

  Penelope gave herself over to the demanding urgency of his kisses as the familiar heat rose in her. He said he wouldn’t ruin her, but she was beyond caring as she felt his hands slip underneath her back to work on the fastenings of her gown. She clung to him as he yanked her loosened gown off her shoulders, then past her breasts.

  She jumped when his hands cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise, filling his palms with her soft flesh, kneading them until her eyes clenched shut and she was mindlessly writhing beneath him.

  “You like that, sweetheart?”

  She sighed. “Yes!”

  A laughing groan escaped him as he continued fondling her breast. “So sweet, so honest … ”

  Lucas bent his head and worked the ties of her chemise loose with his teeth, making her gasp and open her eyes as he dragged her chemise down, freeing her breasts, watching as her nipples tightened into proud, erect buds beneath his hungry gaze.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered reverently as he lowered his head and licked her nipple.

  He paused when she couldn’t stop the tears shimmering in her eyes. “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

  She shook her head and gave a sad, little smile. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Lucas,” she said, hoping her voice held none of the pain she felt. She touched his arm, carefully avoiding his wound. “I know what I am. I realize that people find me — ”

  “Lovely? Tempting? Desirable?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  He held her gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough as his thumbs rubbed her nipples. “Because if you’re sure, then tell me why you drive me mad with lust just by holding your hand.” He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Tell me why I’ve spent sleepless nights imagining you beneath me, like this.”

  “Lucas … ”

  “Tell me why I ache to kiss and touch every part of you.” He rubbed his rigid arousal against the juncture between her thighs, and she moaned with pleasure. “You know I’m telling the truth, Penelope,” he growled. “You can feel how much I want you.” He pushed himself against her, his hips pinning her to the bed.

  He meant it. Penelope felt it in the urgency of his movements, of the raw hunger of his kiss when he covered her mouth with his, driving his tongue into her mouth again and again as his hips ground against hers. She felt it as he tore his mouth from hers to devour her breasts, and she kissed his dark hair, his temples, any part of him she could reach as she matched his movements and arched up against him, wanting more … needing more …

  He suddenly tore his mouth from her breast and stared down at her face. His eyes blazed with desire and his features were taut with need, his breath thick and ragged, making him seem like some great, predatory beast as he lifted off her to lie at her side.

  Was that it? Penelope protested the loss with a whimper of disappointment that turned into a shocked gasp as he lifted her skirts and his hand cupped the damp place between her legs. She clamped her thighs together, unable to question the instinct even as he groaned in frustration.

  “Don’t close against me, sweetheart,” he choked out. “Let me feel you … I only want to feel you.”

  Responding to the need in his voice, she forced her legs to relax, and he rewarded her with a blatantly carnal kiss while he found the slit in her drawers and slipped his hand inside. She felt him press his palm against the moist curls between her thighs, rubbing her in a manner that made her squirm and arch against his hand.

  He kissed her temple when she released a moan of pleasure and she buried her face in his neck, whimpering with need while he continued the delicious movement of his hand.

  “Oh, God! Lucas, that’s very — ”

  “Oh yes, it is. Very,” he rasped. His voice washed over her like liquid fire as his thumb found a sensitive nub of flesh and he rubbed the spot, teasing it until she writhed and pressed herself against his thumb. She wanted to scream. She wanted him never to stop. She wanted more.

  “Please, Lucas!” she begged him. For what, she didn’t know.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” He groaned. “Take it. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”

  He lowered his head to suck at her breasts once more and slid a finger inside her, stroking her in a way that drove her mad as she felt the fire build up in her.

  “Yes,” he growled as he slid another finger inside her and quickened his strokes. “Reach for it, nymph. Let it happen … ”

  The thrusts of his fingers grew firmer, more demanding, pulling at her and beckoning her, sending the flames higher and higher until a sudden explosion of pleasure made her cry out his name. He held her as she quivered and shattered beneath him, arching against his hand as waves of pleasure swept through her.

  Lucas’s knowing hand gently guided her back from oblivion. He held her as she regained her bearings, stroking her gently and brushing kisses against her cheeks, her temples.

  She dropped her hands from around his neck. “That was … ”

  “Good?” he whispered.

  “Amazing. Exquisite. Wonderful.”

  She looked up at him to see his reaction. What she saw filled her with guilt. His eyes were clenched shut, and the same stark hunger darkened his features as he held himself above her.

  “Ummm … is there anything I can do to make you … ” She bit her lip as she tried to think of how to say it. Then she spoke again. “I mean, can I … can I do anything?” She made a vague gesture that encompassed the whole of him.

  A strained laugh escaped him. “You can’t know how I’ve waited to hear you say that, sweetheart, but it wouldn’t be wise. I can only take so much, and if I don’t get out of this bed soon I will ruin you, no matter what I promised.” His eyes blazed at her. “And the servants will be up soon.”

  “Oh!” She sat up, panicked.

  “I better get out of here while I still can.” He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Good night, Penelope.”

  “Good night.”

  She sighed, suddenly wishing that he wasn’t so honorable as she watched him slowly open the door and slip into the darkened hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Polly? It’s Papa. Can I come in?”

  Penelope’s eyes snapped open. She blinked against the harsh light as she tried to regain her senses.

  “Polly? Are you awake?”

  “Ungh. Yes, Papa. Come in.”

  She watched from her bed as her stepfather came in bearing a tray of food. The comforting smell of freshly made toast and eggs wafted through the room, and she closed her eyes, savoring it.

  “You missed breakfast. I thought you might be hungry.”

  She opened her eyes, sat up and gave a languid smile. “Thanks, Papa.”

  Papa set the food tray on her writing table, turned and froze. Froze?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Is there anything you want to tell me, Polly?” He approached the bed. “Anything you think I should know about?”

  She frowned in confusion. “I don’t think so.”

  Her stepfather scowled back. “I see.”

  He tossed her dressing gown to the bed and averted his gaze as she put it on. “As I recall, you and the earl said you needed time to get to know each other before deciding to get married. Have you decided yet?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Papa waylaid her with a wave of his hand. “You shouldn’t play games with a man’s life, Penelope. I taught you better than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The earl has estates to run, tenants who depend on him and a sister who needs him. Yet you keep him here for an entire week to wait for you to make a decision.” He shook his head. “I thought it was a sound idea. It would help us get to know your future husba
nd better.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “But to be honest, I didn’t think you’d keep him dangling this long. There’s not much more to find out from spending time with a man for a week that you can’t learn in three days.”

  She watched Papa sit by her writing desk as shame poured through her. Lucas’s words after she’d accidentally shot him drifted through her mind: Enough of these games.

  She buried her face in her hands. “I’m scared, Papa. I’ve been avoiding making a decision because — ”

  “I believe you’ve already made a decision. I’ve seen you interact with him, and I believe it is a sound match. He’s a good man.”

  “I know he is, Papa, but … ” She faced her stepfather, letting him see her turmoil. “I’ve seen what an arranged marriage can be like. Mama married my father out of duty, and she wasn’t happy because she loved you. What would’ve happened to us if you’d been married when my father died and Uncle Hugh cast us out?”

  “I never would’ve married anyone other than your mother,” Papa said quietly. “And if your mother hadn’t married Edmund Maitland, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, when you put it that way … ”

  “Stop worrying about what happened or what could have happened in the past, Polly. You can do naught about it anymore.”

  He walked over to put his hand on her shoulder. “What matters is the present,” he reminded her. “Either marry the earl or release him from the betrothal. But make the decision, child, because if you wait too long, you will lose your chance. Then it will no longer be your decision to make.” His gray brows rose. “The earl can’t stay here forever.”

  What else could she say? She’d convinced herself she deserved to have him for a while longer after waiting for him all those years, but Papa was right. She was being a coward, and she could not keep delaying her decision any longer. “I’ll talk to Lord Ravenstone today.”