My Darling, My Disaster (Lords of Essex)

by Morgan, Angie

  The wicked timber of his voice made every part of her body tingle. “And what’s the first, my lord?” she asked with a smile, the edge of her sadness fading.

  “Gambling.”

  His low answer was a caress, and as Lana lifted her burning gaze to his, the rest of the world seemed to fizzle away. The way Gray was looking at her—like she was the only thing worth seeing—eclipsed the playfulness of his words. The dancers blurred, the music dimmed, and it was only his strong arms anchoring her to him. She never wanted to be anywhere else, not for a single second.

  Her eyes drifted to her sister dancing with Lord Langlevit, and she thought of Irina’s earlier innocent, childish comment about dancing partners. What if Gray did not know how she felt…at least now, as Princess Svetlanka, enough for him to pose the question? What if he thought she was no longer within his reach? Or worse…that she did not want him for more than what he had already given her? Attention and protection, and a handful of scattered, passionate interludes? She’d said such horrible things before, convinced him that she did not care, when the truth was the opposite.

  She drew a determined breath. “My lord—”

  “Lana—”

  They’d spoken at the same time, and Lana lowered her eyes. “You first.”

  Gray stopped then, right in the middle of the waltz and in the middle of the room. Lana could feel gazes flutter to them as other couples adjusted their pacing and movements to avoid a collision. It was unheard of to halt so suddenly, uncivilized. Then again, neither of them had ever been advocates of convention. The sound of her heartbeat rushed in her ears like thunder as the ball faded away. The only thing left was the man standing in front of her, his heart on his sleeve.

  “I wanted to wait,” he whispered. “Court you properly as you deserve. But I cannot. I can’t wait one more second to make you mine. Not for this waltz, not for this ball, not for this night.” Gray’s words were short, as if he couldn’t formulate his thoughts properly, but she almost swooned at the look in his eyes as he drew one of her gloved hands to his lips. “Will you have me, love?”

  Lana couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt full and yet empty at the same time. “Have you?” she repeated, confused and hopeful and terrified that he didn’t mean what she wanted him to mean.

  “I want you as my wife, Lana.”

  She found she still couldn’t take a breath, but not because she was delirious with joy. Rather, she couldn’t breathe because she was suddenly afraid. Suddenly uncertain.

  She pulled her hand from his, and the sounds of the ballroom returned. “Why?”

  By the look in Gray’s eyes, he hadn’t expected the question any more than Lana had expected to pose it. But she needed to know.

  “Why?” he echoed.

  “Why do you want to marry me? Because I am a princess now?”

  Hurt replaced his confused expression, and she realized how harsh she had sounded. Lana rushed to explain. “Before, when I was nothing more than a maid—”

  “I loved you,” he interrupted, louder than perhaps he’d intended. The words reached a few of the closest dancers twirling around them, drawing their shocked glances. “When you chastised me for endangering Brynn’s health, I loved you. When you refused to tell me the truth about who you were, I loved you. When I saw you tend to Sofia through her illness, I loved you.”

  He reclaimed her hand and pressed it against the lapel of his jacket, over his heart. “I won’t lie. My plan to take you as my wife is going to be a hell of a lot easier now than it was before, when I’d determined to marry my sister’s stubborn maid, claim my illegitimate child, find my love’s lost sister, and take you all somewhere, anywhere, we could live together in peace.”

  He took a breath and finally, finally, so did Lana. With it came a stone of emotion lodged right in the center of her throat.

  “You were going to do that?” she whispered. “Leave your family?”

  “I was going to do whatever I had to in order to be with you,” he answered, and she saw that for him, the rest of the ballroom was still invisible.

  “And Irina?”

  He smiled, his blue eyes intense. “I come with a daughter, you come with a sister. Such a thing could not please me more.”

  “Oh, Gray.” Her own eyes filled with tears.

  Gray sunk down onto one knee, right there, in the center of the dance floor, and the couples waltzing around them all tripped to a halt and stared openly.

  “Lana,” he started, and then with a halting smile, finished, “That is, Princess Svetlanka Volkonsky…will you be my wife?”

  There it was. The question she’d been desperate for…longed for. Lana’s answer was already at the tip of her lips, pushed there by the blissful throb of her heart. “I am yours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The hour was late as Lana’s betrothed escorted her to Hartstone after many more dances and congratulatory toasts at the ball. Briannon—soon to be Lana’s sister-in-law—had been beside herself with joy. She’d witnessed her brother’s public proposal from where she’d stood on the dance floor and had rushed to embrace both of them while the rest of the guests had clapped and cheered in utter astonishment, only a handful of the oldest and most stringent tut-tutting at the overt show of emotion.

  Lady Dinsmore had been heartily congratulated for having pulled off two of the most brilliant matches that the ton had seen in recent years, which made Lana smile and Gray roll his eyes. But the most heartwarming had been Sofia’s reaction when her governess had brought her into the ballroom to bid Gray good night. He’d lifted her into his arms and told the little girl that Lana had just agreed to marry him.

  “Will you be my mama now?” she’d asked shyly.

  Lana had felt as if her chest would not be able to contain her love. “Yes, if you’ll have me.”

  “Can we have jam samidges with cream?”

  She had laughed her answer through her tears. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything you like.”

  After so many months of uncertainty, Lana felt consumed by happiness. She and her sister were safe, and the man she loved had asked her to become his wife. She was still walking on air as Gray led her up the stone steps to the manor.

  He bowed low, his mouth brushing her knuckles. “I shall pine away the hours until I see you again, my lovely bride-to-be.”

  Lana blushed, basking in the warmth of his gaze. She glanced up at the blanket of stars in the inky velvet sky. “I must admit that I am not quite ready to retire.”

  “Shall we indulge ourselves with a midnight stroll, then?”

  “It is a lovely evening,” she agreed. The June air was balmy against her skin, and a stroll in the earl’s gardens sounded too romantic for words. And the plain truth was she wanted to extend their magical night for as long as possible.

  They walked in silence, the pathways lit by the brilliant light of the moon riding high in the sky. All the flowers and leaves were gilded in silver, lending a mystical air to the gardens. After a while of strolling hand in hand, they chanced upon the start of a maze in the center of the lush gardens.

  “Oh, lovely!” Lana exclaimed, staring at the immaculately groomed hedges looming above them. “It’s like the one we have at Volkonsky Palace. When we were children, Irina and I would get lost for hours in it. There was a fountain at the center of ours!”

  “Since it appears that you are a maze expert, I shall give you a five-minute head start,” Gray said with a playful wink. As she turned to leave, he pulled her toward him, making her gasp at the feel of his hard body pressed against hers. “But first, we must discuss terms.”

  She licked her lips. “Terms?”

  “For the winner.”

  Her limbs turned useless at the thought of their last bet at The Cock and the Crown. A muscle worked in his cheek at the memories that were obviously tormenting him as well.

  “A kiss, perhaps?” he suggested.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Lana pressed her mouth to his, her t
ongue darting in for one swift taste before retreating. “I have a better idea for the winner’s prize.” Gray’s eyes widened in surprise, but she slid out of his grasp and disappeared around the first bend of the maze. “But you must be swift, Lord Northridge.”

  “Lana,” he growled in amused frustration.

  “You promised five minutes, my lord,” she sang over her shoulder as she came to another opening.

  It didn’t take her long to work out the maze. Every maze had its own mathematical pattern, and this one seemed to be every third left and every second right. Lana smiled to herself as she peeled the glove from her left arm and left it in the pathway. A few paces later, she dropped the second. Her entire body was tingling with anticipation as she left her slippers behind, and then, at later intervals, each of her stockings. She knew it was utterly scandalous, but she didn’t care. She felt free and unfettered, the cool, smooth stones under her feet exhilarating. The sublime glow of moonlight and the enchanted nature of the maze made her feel like a woodland sprite. It was an ethereal landscape, one that filled her mind with indecent fantasies.

  A laughing gasp froze on her lips as she came to the center of the maze. It wasn’t a fountain like the one at Volkonsky Palace or some Greek statue. Instead, the jewel of this maze was a gorgeous stained-glass greenhouse. She pushed open the door and smiled in delight. A circular cushioned bench dominated its center, while fragrant miniature roses of every hue ran its circumference.

  She was so spellbound at the whimsical sight that she didn’t hear Gray until his arms slid around her waist from behind, his lips nibbling at her ear. “You are a minx,” he murmured, her discarded items of clothing falling to the floor.

  Lana turned in his arms. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  “Yes.” It was clear he wasn’t referring to the greenhouse, and she blushed. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin inside her elbows with grazing touches that left tingles in their wake. Gray’s gaze slid to the tips of her bare feet, peeping from the hem of her dress. “My barefoot princess,” he whispered before his lips claimed hers in a tender kiss.

  Lana pulled away before the kiss evolved into something more urgent. “Gray,” she asked, her voice trembling. “Would you have truly wanted to marry me if I were still a maid?”

  “I would have wanted you if you were an urchin on the street without a farthing to your name,” he breathed. “You belong with me, Lana. I think I knew it when you gave me that dressing-down in the kitchen stairwell without a care for my station, just to protect my sister. I knew I had to have you, especially after that morning you were in my carriage along Ferndale’s drive. Do you remember? You asked me if I liked what I saw.” His smile turned wolfish. “I did, very much.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “That was bold of me.”

  “I love it when you’re bold.” His thumb slid over her lower lip, freeing it from where her teeth had it pinned. “I love everything about you.”

  “You do?” she asked, her voice thin with sudden nerves. Her feet were cold against the slate floor, but that wasn’t why she’d started to shiver.

  Gray’s palms cupped her cheeks. “My sweet love, you have had my heart in your keeping for months.”

  He drew his mouth down to hers, and Lana’s lips parted, welcoming the hot sweep of his tongue. He lifted her in a smooth motion, kicking the door shut with his heel and walking toward the center of the greenhouse. He set her on the round bench, the cushion soft beneath her.

  He remained standing, gazing down at her. The moonlight caught the segments of jeweled glass and lit the inside of the greenhouse, as well as the two of them, in a kaleidoscope of colors. Gray turned to look at the small pile of her things he’d left on the floor near the greenhouse door. Her slippers lay underneath her silk stockings and gloves.

  “Eager are we?” he asked, his attention coming back to her.

  Lana drew her chilled feet up onto the cushion and felt the softness of her calves rubbing together under her gown. She flushed at her own audacity. “Call it incentive, my lord.”

  He lowered his chin and deepened his stare, the bright blue of his eyes a radiant ice color in the jeweled light. “You know I enjoy it when you are bold, but what I want to know,” he said, one of his knees sinking onto the cushion beside her. “Is if you enjoy it when I am.”

  Leaning onto her elbows, Lana lifted her eyes and stared up at him. “How bold might that be?”

  “Bold enough to tell you exactly what I want.”

  She felt an extra throb of her heart and a responding flutter of her pulse in her neck. “And what do you want?”

  Gray gripped Lana’s hips and with one swift motion rolled her onto her stomach. “Ooof!” she let out and tried to push up onto her elbows. He’d climbed higher, bracketing her upper legs and pinning her into place. “What are you doing?”

  “I am planning a letter to Madame Despain in which I tell her to never design another dress for you that has laces up the back.”

  She felt him tugging at the intricately laced satin ribbon that wove up the back of her dress.

  “Gray—”

  “I told you I could not wait to make you mine,” he said.

  Her bodice became looser as he spoke, her front still pressed into the cushion of the bench. “But we are in Lord Langlevit’s greenhouse! And I am already yours. We are betrothed.”

  “I now mean to make you mine in an entirely more carnal way.”

  She gaped at the creamy white cushion beneath her, her body igniting to flame at the mere spark of his words. Of course he had already done so. At The Cock and the Crown. And it would be a lie to say she had not dreamed of being underneath him again. And again.

  But the earl could return to Hartstone at any time. And Irina! She had begged to stay at the ball to fulfill her dance card completely and perhaps have a little more cake, but Henry was no doubt growing restless. The countess, as well.

  “We cannot,” she whispered, as if someone might already be lurking just beyond the stained-glass exterior.

  He slowed his tugging, but after a moment, Lana realized it wasn’t because he was in agreement. Gray opened her bodice, the cool air touching her bare upper back.

  A pair of warm lips followed. They were light, delicate nudges, but to her astonishment, each one elicited a reaction within her as deep and resonant as the strike of a bell. She gasped at the familiar prickles of desire between her legs.

  He lifted his lips from her skin just long enough to murmur, “I want to strip this gorgeous gown from your body and lay you out before me.”

  Lana closed her eyes, allowing him to gently free each of her arms from their cap sleeves. She then stretched her bared arms before her and clutched the edge of the bench.

  Gray began to pull at the unlaced bodice and stays. The layers slipped down her body, and she felt him shifting side to side to allow the voluminous skirts to ripple down onto the floor. Within moments, she was in her chemise and drawers, his knees still caging her legs.

  “I want to see every inch of your delectable skin,” he said, his breath hot against the low-backed cotton chemise. Lana shivered and felt his fingers pushing the cotton up over her head, his body reaching to pull the fabric from her arms.

  “I want to taste every part of you,” he said, and Lana’s eyes snapped open.

  “Wh—what?” she asked, her throat barely able to make sound.

  Gray slid one palm in between her body and the cushion, and filled it with her breast. He kneaded her gently, and Lana tried once more to rise onto her elbows. She gasped, her other breast yearning for attention. But his free hand had traveled southward, to the final article of clothing she wore. His fingers dipped underneath the waistband of her drawers.

  “I’m telling you what I want,” he replied, lowering himself until she felt his weight against her back. He took her earlobe between his teeth and pushed the fabric down, exposing her backside. She swallowed a moan as his hand cupped one of her rounded cheeks.
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  “And what I want is for you to say yes,” he said, his tongue swirling behind her ear.

  Distracted by his caresses, she murmured, “I’ve already said yes.”

  “You said yes to being my wife,” he corrected, her drawers now around her knees. Gray’s hands caressed her from shoulder to thigh, his lips and teeth kissing and nipping her back in their wake. Lana wanted to turn over and wrap her arms and legs around him, pull him into her and feel every sublime sensation she had on that purple velvet sofa at The Cock and the Crown. “I want you to say yes to the things I’ve enumerated right here,” he said. “Right now.”

  To see every inch of her.

  To taste every inch of her.

  Heat swamped her, her brain going utterly useless. What normal-blooded woman in her right mind would say no to the thoroughly wicked things this man was offering? She felt his lips trailing down the curve of her lower back and then along the rise of her buttock and promptly lost any and all care for where they were and who might chance upon them. She could not tell him to stop, not now, not when the hot, sweet ache in her core demanded otherwise.

  “Yes,” she admitted, blushing fiercely. “I want what you want.”

  His tongue stalled out on her rump, and she felt his smile against her skin. “Yes, you do.”

  The drawers sailed from her legs, and with one more roll, Gray had her on her back. The cool greenhouse air hit her breasts, and they tightened, gooseflesh firing up and down her arms and legs. Parts of her had been exposed to Gray before, but never all of her. And he’d never stood back, the way he was right then, and stared at her with such intrepid ardor. Lana felt the urge to cover herself, but she knew he would only coax her hands away. Besides, he liked it when she was bold. And so she lifted her chin and allowed his eyes to roam. A knowing grin pulled the corner of his mouth, and he lowered himself slowly in front of the bench. Lana tried to sit up, but he made a sound to stop her.

  “But, what are you—oh! Gray—”

  He’d run his hands up her inner thighs and nudged them apart, and slid her closer to the edge of the cushion. He kissed the inside of one thigh.