by Adele Clee
She clasped his hands and held them above his head, sheathed his solid shaft, rode him as if her life depended upon it, until her ragged breathing obliterated the sound of the wind.
It was rough, heart-stoppingly wonderful. He was so hard she could feel him swelling inside her. She enjoyed playing the temptress, and so she clutched his waistcoat in her fists and ground against him again and again.
“We need to share a bed tonight,” he said between short gasps of breath. “I don’t care if it’s in the blasted stable.” He closed his eyes. “Lord above.”
He came apart, groaning her name, flooding her body.
Estelle stilled and waited for Ross’ breathing to settle.
But without warning he flipped her onto her back. “I’ll not leave you unsatisfied.”
She did not need to reach the dizzying heights of release, just being close to him was enough for now, but he moved to kneel between her legs and buried his head between her thighs.
“No, Ross. No.”
He gripped her thighs as his wicked tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive bud. The mounting pressure banished all embarrassment. She thrust her hands into his hair, tugged and pulled at the roots, wanted to shout a host of licentious things as the world fractured into hundreds of glittering pieces.
Ross rolled onto his back, and they both lay there panting, looking up at the sky.
“Well, that was a rather nice homecoming,” he said, catching his breath. “Perhaps regular trips to France might be in order.” He tucked his manhood away and came up on his elbow. “Marry me, Estelle.”
“You know I will.”
“At this rate, there will surely be a child, and so I want us to wed soon. Let us have a lavish celebration. Let us marry in St George’s. Would you like that?”
Estelle sighed. “Ross, such extravagance is unnecessary.” She did not want to disappoint him, but clearly, he had not thought this through. “We cannot afford to draw attention to the event. People will ask questions. How will I explain where I’ve been these last eight years?”
“Reach into the pocket of my coat and remove the letter.”
Intrigued, she sat up and did as he asked.
“Open it,” he said, “the seal is already broken.”
Estelle peeled back the folds and read the letter. Her gaze drifted to the embossed mark at the top. She shook her head. “How on earth did you come by this?”
The letter was written by the Reverend Mother of a convent in Brittany. It stated that a lady had been brought to them having been found unconscious on the beach. Due to the trauma, she suffered memory loss, and she remained with them until snippets of her memory returned some eight years later. At the bottom of the page she saw her name written in ink.
“The convent is crumbling down around them, and they are in dire need of funds. I happened to have the finances available to pay for a new roof, a new prayer room and for other things besides.”
Estelle looked at him and then looked at the Reverend Mother’s signature. “You bribed a servant of God?”
“Not bribed exactly but suggested they offer a helping hand to an innocent woman forced to act against her will. When she heard your story, she wanted to help.”
“Is this true?” She waved the letter at him. “Did you really speak to the Reverend Mother, because I find it hard to believe a woman of such grace would lie.”
A smile touched Ross’ lips. “Does it matter? Someone as holy as the Reverend Mother would never disclose the personal information of those given sanctuary. And should anyone search for proof, I have the receipt to show I donated a substantial amount of money out of gratitude.”
Estelle shook her head. “Your cunning astounds me.”
“I would do anything for you, and to secure the future of any children we may have.”
Estelle put her hand on her stomach. The thought of carrying his child brought a lump to her throat. “Then I shall treasure this letter because it shows the lengths you will go to for those you love.”
“So will you choose St George’s?”
While Ross had done everything to eradicate the past, she was as much a product of her mistakes as her successes. Being true to herself was what mattered now. “Fabian suggested we might marry here. It’s a small church but rather quaint. Would you be terribly disappointed?”
Ross grinned. “I’d marry you on the beach if it were possible, and so Raven Island it is. Though I wonder if you know the full extent of what you’re committing to.”
She was to marry a man who made her heart soar, her pulse race. “Oh, I’m committing to a man who is the epitome of sexual prowess.” Not that she had any complaint.
Ross raised a brow. “I wasn’t speaking about me. Mackenzie will want to host the wedding breakfast, and I hear he excels when it comes to picking the entertainment.”
“It is not the entertainment of the day that I shall concern myself with,” she said, returning to straddle his lap once again, “but more how you plan to please me on our wedding night.”
“You want your pleasure to come in slow, rippling waves, I seem to recall.”
Estelle fought to suppress a grin. “Do I? How strange that my memory seems to have failed me.”
Ross’ hands settled on her hips. “Then perhaps another demonstration is in order.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three weeks later
“Come,” Lillian said, grabbing Estelle’s hand and pulling her towards the bailey. “Mrs Brown spent the whole day yesterday preparing the cart.”
Estelle needed a distraction to calm her nerves. In an hour, she would be the Marchioness of Trevane. More importantly, she would be married to the man she loved for the rest of her days. “I’m sure I shall love it no matter what she has done.”
When Estelle entered the bailey, it wasn’t the sight of the pretty rose garlands or the reams of pink ribbons that stole her breath. It was the sight of Mr Erstwhile sitting on the seat gripping the reins in his hand, a beaming smile illuminating his face.
“Are you ready, my dear? We do not want to keep his lordship waiting.”
She had Ross to thank for making the day special before it had even begun. He had arranged for someone to tend the Erstwhiles’ apothecary shop in their absence. He’d arranged their transport to Branscombe, and Fabian had found them a room in the castle.
“I wouldn’t want to be late,” she said. Mackenzie appeared and offered his hand so she could climb up onto the seat. “His lordship might think I’ve left on the mail coach.”
Mr Erstwhile smiled. “I believe his lordship would chase you to the ends of the earth.”
“Aye,” Mackenzie said, helping Lillian up to the seat, too. “And he’d swim there in just his breeches if he had to. Now give me a moment to scoot into the back, and we can be on our way.”
Mr Erstwhile looked proud seated at the helm. Mrs Erstwhile had gone ahead to the church, the maid in her needing to make certain everything was clean and in order.
“I cannot tell you what it means to be here,” Mr Erstwhile said, “to see you so happy and about to wed the one you love.”
Estelle touched him lightly on the arm. “It would not have been the same without you here.”
“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
The wedding party consisted of a small gathering of close friends. Ross invited Lord Farleigh, Rose and the children. He’d also extended an invitation to the Earl of Stanton, Lord Farleigh’s brother-in-law, and his wife, Nicole. When one made a stand against the sticklers in society, it was best to do so with an army of peers guarding your back.
They rattled along the narrow road towards the church on the hill. Estelle’s stomach flipped. She couldn’t wait to see Ross. But another surprise had her buzzing with excitement, too.
Fabian was waiting for them outside the church. He strode towards them looking so smart in his cravat and waistcoat, though she preferred seeing him in the more relaxed garb of a would-be pi
rate.
Mackenzie came to help them down from the cart. Fabian kissed Lillian on the cheek and whispered something in her ear that brought a blush to her cheeks.
“You look beautiful,” Fabian said, taking Estelle’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Trevane arrived an hour early. The man is eager to claim you as his wife. Indeed, I feared he might sleep in a pew last night.”
In that moment, Estelle did not know if it was possible to be any happier.
“Well,” Mr Erstwhile began. “I had best go inside and find a seat.”
“Your wife has saved a seat for you,” Fabian said, casting Estelle a covert grin. “But you’ve no need to go inside just yet.”
“Is the Reverend Sykes not ready?”
“He’s ready,” Fabian said, “but you cannot enter the church without the bride.”
Mr Erstwhile looked at Estelle, a little confused.
Estelle turned and hugged him. “My brother must give me away,” she said, “but I would like you to assist him.”
“Me?” Mr Erstwhile covered his heart with his hand. “Oh, but I could not intrude.”
“Sir, Estelle would like us both to escort her to Lord Trevane.”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. “You would?”
“I would,” Estelle said, struggling to hold back her own tears.
A look of pride and joy brightened Mr Erstwhile’s countenance. “Then it would stand as one of the greatest honours of my life.”
A few tears did fall, and they all took a moment to compose themselves before heading into the church.
Ross looked immaculate in a dark blue coat and gold waistcoat. Their gazes locked, and he mouthed I love you. His eyes held a look of promise that warmed her core and left her anticipating what the night would bring. There was a glimpse of the younger man about him. The happy, carefree lord who’d chased her about the orchard and swore to love and protect her until his dying day.
Afterwards, they dined in the great hall in what proved to be rowdy celebration organised by Mackenzie. Fabian’s men joined them, as did Wickett.
“Look at Wickett,” Ross said, leaning in and whispering in Estelle’s ear as they sat at the long table on the dais. He took the opportunity to kiss her cheek, pressed another on her jaw. “Fabian’s men are plying him with drink. I might see if one of them can get him to sing or dance. It will give me ammunition when he attempts to tease me.”
“You have rather an unconventional relationship with your coachman,” Estelle said, sliding her hand under the table to grip his muscular thigh. She found she could not keep her hands off her husband.
Ross sucked in a breath as her hand edged higher. “The man has saved my life on more than one occasion though I would never tell him that.”
Estelle’s fingers settled on the fall of his breeches and caressed him in slow, sensual strokes. “Perhaps he’s not the only one with the ability to tease you.”
“Then you should know I’m a man with a hunger for revenge.” He met her gaze and whispered, “Would you like me to make you come in front of all these people?”
Had she been sipping her wine, she might have choked. “How would you do that?” She had to admit to being a little excited.
“Trust me. No one would know.”
“That is simply not possible.”
Ross raised a brow. “Is that a challenge, Lady Trevane?”
Estelle loved this playful side of him. He looked so different from the dangerous devil who had dragged her into a coaching inn and forced her to tell her tale. “I cannot see how you would have an opportunity.”
Ross gestured to the men setting up the music stands in the far corner. “In a minute, Mackenzie has arranged for Fabian to play his fiddle while everyone dances. We don’t have to join them on the floor straight away.”
“I highly doubt our guests will let us sit out.”
Ross placed his napkin on the table, stood and moved to speak to Fabian. Her brother looked at her and then nodded.
“What did you say?” she said when Ross returned to his seat.
“I said you were feeling a little hot, a little overwhelmed by the events of the day, and we would sit out for the first dance and join them for the second.”
Ross proceeded to tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her in bed that night. The precise details fired a heat between her thighs that was soon a blazing inferno. How was it she was panting with arousal and he’d not even touched her yet?
When Mackenzie stood, banged his gavel and instructed them the dancing was to commence, Ross placed his hand on her thigh.
“Cross your legs,” he said with supreme confidence in his ability.
She did as he asked, and the sensation only heightened her need to find her release. Good Lord. She was liable to stretch out on the table and let him take her there and then. That thought sent another pulse of desire shooting to her core.
Fabian stepped down from the dais to join two other men. They played a country tune and their guests piled to the floor. Everyone danced, though the Erstwhiles were lauded for their stamina when they managed to keep pace with Mackenzie’s jig.
The music was loud. The crowd were laughing and singing as Ross’ fingers delved between her thighs and played her through the fine material of her dress as easily as Fabian stroked the strings on his fiddle.
Estelle struggled to sit still.
Ross’ gaze never left her face. “I’ll not wait until tonight to be inside you.”
That was it. She came apart then. The muscles in her core clamped down, missing the feel of having him to grip on to, though still sending pleasurable shivers to her toes.
Ross waited until the tremors subsided and then sat back with a huge grin on his face.
“So,” she began, a little breathless. “It seems you have found yourself another opponent as well as Wickett. Now, I shall have to think of new and novel ways to tease you.”
“Then I shall look forward to the event with bated breath. Perhaps you may get your first opportunity in an hour or two. Mackenzie has hidden a chest of coins with clues how to find the treasure. I imagine most people will go on the hunt.”
Estelle smiled. “But not you?”
Ross took hold of her hand. “No, not me. I have the only treasure I want right here.”
THE END
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The Daring Miss Darcy
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Books by Adele Clee
To Save a Sinner
A Curse of the Heart
What Every Lord Wants
The Secret To Your Surrender
A Simple Case of Seduction
Anything for Love Series
What You Desire
What You Propose
What You Deserve
What You Promised
The Brotherhood Series
Lost to the Night
Slave to the Night
Abandoned to the Night
Lured to the Night
Lost Ladies of London
The Mysterious Miss Flint
The Deceptive Lady Darby
The Scandalous Lady Sandford
The Daring Miss Darcy
Avenging Lords
At Last the Rogue Returns
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