He quickly shed his clothes and slipped between the sheets next to her. He lifted the book and placed it on the dresser next to the bed. He moved over her and gently kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks and then her lips, which were already curved in a smile.
“Stephen, I think I fell asleep waiting for you.”
“I’m here now, my love,” and he rolled her over so she lay on top of him. She felt his hard erection against her stomach and the sleepiness left her eyes. She sat up astride him.
“You taste of cheroots and brandy,” she said almost to herself.
“You taste of heaven and bliss.”
She giggled. “You charmer.” With that he pulled her down onto him and kissed her solidly. He gave a groan against her lips as she moved her hips, running her wet womanhood up and down the length of him. He could go insane if he didn’t have her soon. He couldn’t wait for her to mount him.
Desire dissolved in his blood and spread through his veins, more potent than the brandy he’d been drinking. He wanted her. Wanted her as much as he did the first day he’d met her as she’d walked toward him at the auction house. He closed his eyes and loved how her image was so strong in his memory. Even if he lost his sight tomorrow he would always picture how she looked at this moment.
She pulled back and began to kiss down his neck, and he could not take his eyes from her. She paid special attention to his chest, nibbling on his hard nipples, causing his hips to lift, looking for her tight heat. “God, I want you. I’ll always want you.”
Her lips teased his senses, her hands slid down to stroke him, and his breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. She ran her nose over his skin. “I love the scent of you,” she whispered against his chest. “Even more, I love the taste of you on my tongue.” His blood pounded as she trailed those sensual, teasing lips farther toward his groin. When she finally took him in her mouth his hips left the bed.
His deep moan filled the room. He should stop her. He wanted to be inside her when he came.
She gave so much pleasure. He closed his eyes and for once the darkness didn’t frighten him. He could picture her perfectly and he loved how the other senses heightened. The way she used her tongue, the way her hands cupped his sacs, and the sound of her mouth working him, made him almost explode.
Yet he still loved to watch. Nothing prepared him for the hit of desire he got from watching her pleasure him. As she licked and suckled, taking him deep within her mouth, he watched her, and his eyes locked on her face.
* * *
—
She could tell he was watching her. His eyes burned into her. Penelope loved taking him deep into her mouth. Loved his reaction as he watched her possess him. Watching his features harden into a mask of passion; she’d never felt so powerful. The cords of his neck tightened, and his hands wound into her hair. His mouth opened. His breath became ragged. His hips began to rock, pushing him farther, deeper, into her mouth. He was about to come. His eyes closed, and his head fell back. His hands dug into her scalp and his whole body trembled.
“Penelope. Christ. How I love what you do to me.” And then with a series of jerks and a roar, he flooded her mouth with the very essence of him.
She drank him down, not letting him slip from between her lips until she had licked every last drop.
She crawled back up his body, showering his chest with little kisses. His skin was damp and his breathing still erratic. She lay on top of him, savoring the feel of him beneath her.
Without opening his eyes, he said, “Not that I’m complaining, but I really wanted to be inside you.”
She rested her chin on her hands and looked into his handsome face. “I thought you were the renowned seducer of women. I’m pretty sure if I let you rest for a few moments you can spend the remainder of the night pleasuring me.”
His mouth curved into that sexy grin that made her whole body tingle. “I do so like to please.” And he rolled her over so he was on top and she shivered as he began to kiss down her body.
Chapter 19
A week later the thick Essex fog slowed his journey as he trotted up the long tree-lined drive of Jonathan’s home, slower than he would have liked. His black stallion’s shuffling hoofbeats echoed hollowly in the mist. Stephen shouldn’t have pushed Charger so hard on his journey from London. But he was desperate to see Penelope. He missed her very much and he had only been gone a week. Both man and beast were exhausted.
He had parted ways with Sandringham this morning, and he was confident the duke could handle Rotham. The magistrates they had presented the evidence to were satisfied that however Carmichael had died, Penelope had had no hand in it. Like them, the magistrates assumed Carmichael had either fallen in a drunken stupor, or his smuggling connections had killed him. There was nothing at all to tie Penelope to the fall.
Even though Stephen was exhausted, a weight had lifted off his shoulders, knowing Penelope was safe and that she would keep her house and assets. The things she loved the most. A smile broke over his lips. Perhaps “loved the most” was not quite true. She loved him and she must love him a lot to marry a man who was going blind.
He wished he could push on to her house tonight, but that would not be fair on his horse. Charger had done far too much galloping around the country this past month.
Something in his saddlebags beckoned—the newspaper. He couldn’t wait to show Penelope the notice that he had put in the Times. Sandringham had even announced their engagement at both White’s and in the House of Lords. There was no going back now, and he could not believe how happy that made him feel. He was engaged to be married.
His mother of course was delighted. When he called on her and gave her the news, she had cried. Of course, she also bragged that she had picked it right from the beginning. Telling him that he’d made an excellent choice. He didn’t want to dampen her joy of his engagement by talking about his eyesight. There was time for that discussion after his wedding.
The special license was tucked safely into his jacket pocket. He instinctively knew that Penelope would want to be married in the Seaford Chapel. He didn’t care where they married, just as long as she pledged her love to him.
Stephen dismounted stiffly and was pleased to see a groom approach from inside the stables. He handed over the reins to the man and gave his tired steed a grateful pat on the neck. It was late and he expected that both Jonathan and Dorothea would already be abed. He would grab a quick bite to eat before falling into his bed. He would wake up early and ride straight to Penelope.
As he entered the house he narrowed his eyes against the sudden brightness of the chandelier. His eyesight did not seem to be worsening but maybe it was rather that he had his mind on something else for a change. Penelope helped him forget that there was anything wrong with him. She certainly never treated him as anything but a robust, virile male. He couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow and remind her just how virile he could be. He’d been without her touch, taste, and arousing sighs for a week.
“Good evening, Lord Clevedon. His lordship has retired for the evening, but I saw you arrive and I have ordered some food. Would you like to take your nourishment in the dining room or in your bedchamber?”
“Thank you, that is most kind. On a tray in my bedchamber I think, before I fall asleep on my feet.” Stephen made to climb the stairs when Jonathan’s butler handed him a missive.
“This arrived for you yesterday morning.”
He took the note and continued up the stairs. He didn’t think it would be from Penelope because she had written to him while he was in London, although she knew he would be stopping here. When he got to his room he sat on the end of his bed, and having no valet, set about removing his Hessians. He lay back on the bed but knew if he closed his eyes he’d fall asleep immediately. Only one more night before he could hold Penelope in his arms as he fell asleep.
He w
as so close to getting everything he wanted, and everything he thought he’d never want. Penelope as his wife. Throughout the day’s long ride, he had gone over his plan for how he would go about catching the French smuggler without alarming Penelope. She would be torn between wanting to catch him and not wanting to put Stephen in danger. It was going to be difficult to explain why it was so important that the smuggler was caught when he could not explain exactly what the Frenchman was smuggling, for he did not wish to explain exactly what trade the Frenchman and Carmichael were engaged in.
He wanted to save Penelope at least that.
While there was much to be done, he needed to rest. He needed to eat first and then get a good night’s sleep. Everything else could wait until the morning.
He lay back and exhaustion gathered as he waited in the darkness for the servant to bring his food. Then he suddenly remembered the note. His hand searched around the bed for it, before he realized he was lying on it. He sat up and moved across the room so he could read it better in the light from the fire and the lantern that was sitting on the mantelpiece.
As he opened the note, he didn’t recognize the handwriting.
As he read the words his world came crashing down around him, and suddenly the idea of food made him want to cast up his accounts. Pain ripped through his chest as he crushed the note in his fist.
Fool. Bloody, stupid fool. He should have known everything was too good to be true. What woman in her right mind would marry a man going blind? Only a desperate, deceiving one.
* * *
—
He took his leave from Rayleigh before anyone in the household had arisen. He was supposed to be rested but he’d actually slept very little, finally falling into a restless sleep filled of anguished dreams near dawn.
He would take a side trip to visit David Gregory before riding home to Penelope. She deserved the benefit of the doubt before he accused her of murder. But something in his gut had told him all along that something wasn’t ringing true. Stewart seemed desperate and afraid of the French smuggler. Why would he have killed Carmichael to take over if he was not prepared to continue the trade? The Frenchman definitely didn’t want Carmichael dead as it had halted his lucrative trade.
He galloped through the beautiful sunrise and even that could not lift his foreboding mood.
Soon he came upon the row of fishing cottages. Some children were playing outside with a small puppy. He heard one of the elder boys call to a little girl. That must be Sarah, and he watched as a fair-haired little girl who was sitting alone on a stone wall jumped down and wandered over to a boy who looked like her brother.
He made Charger walk down the path toward where the children played. At the sight of him, Sarah’s brother pushed her behind him and he stood glaring at Stephen with hands on hips.
“Good morning,” he called softly. “My name is Lord Clevedon. Have you heard of me?”
The boy’s fists left his hips. “I’m Craig. Are you the man helping Lady Penelope?” he asked.
Stephen nodded and dismounted. “I’ve just returned from London and I have managed to halt any investigation into her husband’s—accident.”
The boy hugged Sarah tightly to him. “That is good. The man deserved to die.”
“That he did,” Stephen agreed as he approached the pair. He crouched down so he was at eye level with the little girl. “You are safe now, Sarah. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
She gave him a small smile. He reached for her hand and said, “Shall we go and tell your mother the good news?”
Sarah hesitantly slipped her hand in his. “Craig, would you mind holding Charger for me while I talk with your mother?”
Craig looked at the horse longingly. “He’s a beauty, my lord.”
He ruffled the boy’s hair. “That he is. Perhaps one day I can take you for a ride on him.”
“I’d like that,” he said and reached and took the reins from Stephen’s hands. Stephen patted Charger’s neck. “Stay, boy. I won’t be long.” The horse gave a soft whinny.
As they walked down the lane toward Sarah’s house, Stephen asked, “Was it Lady Penelope who saved you up on the cliff?”
Sarah nodded shyly.
“Did she stop the bad man from hurting you?”
Sarah said softly, “She pointed a gun at him and I managed to slip free and jump down from his huge horse. She told me to run.”
“You were very brave. Did you see what happened to Lord Carmichael?”
She shook her head. “I just ran.”
“That was very clever of you.” Just then the door to one of the cottages opened and a woman stepped out. Sarah let his hand go and ran toward her mother. When Mrs. Gregory saw him, a worried look crossed her face before she quickly tried to hide it. “My lord. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was just passing on my way to visit her ladyship and thought I’d give your husband the good news and thank him for his help. Rotham’s case has crumbled. Is he home?”
“I’m sorry, my lord, he is on a fishing trip. He’ll be back early afternoon.”
“No problem. But can you tell him to let me know when it would be convenient to talk, or better yet, when he has time, ask him to call on me at the house.”
“Yes, my lord. I shall tell him.”
He waved goodbye before walking back to where Craig was holding the reins to Charger. He gave the boy half a crown for helping and Craig grinned broadly. “Thank you, sir.”
He kept his sunny disposition until he turned for Penelope’s estate. She had lied this whole time. And he’d been the biggest of fools.
* * *
—
Jacque Dupree knew that Lord Clevedon had arrived in Rayleigh yesterday. He would have received his note. At the moment Clevedon was likely on his way to Seaford this morning. It was unlikely that his lordship would start his search for him, the French smuggler, immediately. He would be too busy with his fiancée, Lady Penelope, and her web of lies. Her ladyship had dug herself a very large hole.
The note he had sent Lord Clevedon would ensure his lordship’s mind was focused on other things for the immediate future.
But he held no doubt that Lord Clevedon would continue to hunt for him. And he could not have that. He had set up a very lucrative trade and he wasn’t about to lose it, especially because of that fool Carmichael.
Surprisingly, he was enjoying the thrill of outsmarting the English lords. When in Seaford he made the caves at Nick’s Cove his home. The vast network of caverns was where they kept the cargo until it was safe to move them. No one could hear the little girls’ cries above the waves or the seagulls. The other benefit was that the caverns had many secret exits. It was difficult, if not impossible, to get trapped. And to top it all the largest of the caves on the west side was filled with water deep enough to allow a rowboat to enter.
Dupree’s eyes danced, imagining the emotions that must be rising within Lord Clevedon. However, his enemy’s pain was not currency. Her ladyship had cost them a lot of money. Since Carmichael’s death his shipments had ceased. He had to set up a new distribution arm, and Stewart was no Carmichael. That would take time.
He had decided that her ladyship owed him and he cleverly thought of just how she could repay him.
Sending the note to Lord Clevedon was an inspired idea. If all went to plan her ladyship would soon be on her own. And then he would strike. He had two of his men keeping watch. He told them that when they saw an opportunity they should take her.
Until then, he would be patient.
* * *
—
Penelope knew that Stephen would be arriving sometime this morning. He’d sent a note before he’d left London stating he would be stopping with Jonathan and Dorothea for the night on his way home. Home. She loved the sound of that.
She’d pu
rposely got up early this morning to go down into the rose garden. She wanted to pick some roses so she could scatter the petals in her bath. She wanted her skin to be covered in their luscious scent. He loved her fragrances. She had forgotten to get them yesterday.
She was so excited about seeing Stephen again. Even the mist that had plagued them the past few mornings had disappeared. The sun was shining and somehow it made the day seem even happier, if that was at all possible.
She returned to the house to find her bath was steaming, and she sprinkled a handful of petals into the water. By the time Jane helped her undress and she had slipped into the tub, the scent of the petals surrounded her.
She closed her eyes and lay back in the bath, trying to tone down the excitement skimming in her blood. She would see Stephen today. She would spend the afternoon with him in her bed and if that made her a wanton she didn’t care. How her life had changed. She wanted a man in her bed.
She bit her bottom lip, still not believing how wonderful her life had become. After enduring six years of hell with Carmichael, she thought she deserved some happiness, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she could be this happy.
Lost in her happy imaginings of the life she would share with Stephen, she did not hear the door to her bathing chamber open. Her eyes flew open at the sound of something landing with a slap on the stool next to the bath. Her eyes flashed open to see Stephen standing over her, but the smile that was about to break on her lips died when she saw anger and hurt blazing in his eyes.
“I brought this home to show you. The announcement of our engagement in the paper as I promised. You are stuck with me now, as I am stuck with you, unless of course you would like to withdraw from our engagement as the woman has the right to do.”
Drawn to the Marquess Page 19