Rebel Marquess

by Amy Sandas

  Rutherford placed his hand at the small of her back as he tipped his head toward hers to whisper in an intimate manner that was still not so quiet the others could not hear. “I vow to come to your rescue should one of the spiteful things choose to offend you.”

  Eliza flushed with pleasure, understanding his meaning very well. He was not speaking of spiders just then. “I do appreciate such gallantry, my lord,” she replied softly.

  There was heartbeat of a pause before the marquess lifted her hand to his arm and straightened. “You are welcome to it. Now, I believe Grandmother wished to speak with Miss Terribury before she retires for the evening. Do excuse us, ladies.”

  With a nod to her stupefied sisters and his confused cousins, he turned and led Eliza away in a graceful escape. Once they were out of hearing distance, Eliza relaxed her composure and allowed the laughter to bubble from her lips. “You realize they likely believe you have lost your mind.”

  “Perhaps they will think twice about attending any of my dinner parties in fear of being entertained in the attic.”

  “Do you have many dinner parties?”

  “No. I do not.”

  Eliza laughed again as they walked slowly round the room. A band had set up in the next room and soft strains of music drifted through the open door into the drawing room. She glanced to where Lady Rutherford sat amongst her friends.

  “Shall we make our way to Lady Rutherford?”

  “Later.”

  “But I thought she wished to speak with me before she retires.”

  “She will not retire for a couple more hours at least. There is time. I thought you might like to catch a breath of air. The sky is clear and the stars are lovely.”

  Eliza looked at him askance, wondering at his suggestion. It was a bit out of character for him, but nothing in his expression indicated anything out of the ordinary. “A breath of fresh air would be quite welcome. Thank you.”

  Rutherford led her through a pair of doors, which had already been opened to allow cooling night air into the crowded room. Stepping onto a wide balcony, Eliza had to agree the evening was lovely. It was one of those idyllic nights of summer, when the scent of flowers and green growing things stirred gently on the breeze. Not a single cloud drifted past the moon and the sky seemed to stretch forever overhead.

  Eliza stepped to the railing and rested her hands on the cool stone surface and then tipped her head back to direct her gaze at the countless points of light above.

  “How far away do you suppose they all are?” she asked softly, soaking in a sense of wonder at recognizing just how small a space she occupied in the universe.

  He didn’t answer, and after a moment she turned to look at him.

  He stood still and silent at her side. She might have thought he appeared relaxed if not for the way he stared at her so intently. Tingling raced over her skin, giving rise to delicate goose bumps.

  “Dance with me, Eliza.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Pleasure rushed through Eliza at his gruffly uttered request and she realized belatedly that the musicians were playing a slow, soothing waltz. She turned toward him with a wide smile. “I would love to.”

  With unhurried care, the marquess drew Eliza into his arms. He placed a steady hand at her back and took her other hand in his. Then, without preamble or pause, he twirled her in a tight three-step turn that had her laughing out loud and clutching tightly to his shoulder in order to keep her feet.

  His answering laugh was low and warm, and when he slid his hand farther around her waist, she followed his direction willingly until their bodies were flush against each other. Looking into his face as he took her around and around the limited space of the balcony, her heart swelled at the sight of his smile. On pure impulse, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and rose up on her toes to press her mouth full and open to his.

  After a bare moment of initial surprise, he responded to her kiss with a tilt of his head and a luscious stroke of his tongue. At the same time, he released her hand and wrapped both arms around her waist, crushing her against him.

  All pretense of dancing disappeared.

  His embrace was demanding, his kiss ravenous. He tasted of passion and adventure, and he angled his wide shoulders over her, bowing her spine and throwing her off balance. He claimed every silent breath from her lips. The solid strength of his body anchored her to him.

  For a few heart-stopping moments, he kissed her as if she were life itself and he would die without her. But when she feared she may ignite into flames from the heat swirling between them, he loosened his arms from around her waist to grip her hips in his large hands. With a last long draw of his mouth on hers, he pulled back and forced her to arms’ length.

  His expression was provoking beneath the light of the moon. His firm lips curved in a subtle, sensual arch and his lowered brows shadowed his gaze. He was the Lord Highwayman. Wicked, daring, mysterious. And he was the Marquess of Rutherford. Fully in command, proud and confident. And he was everything Eliza wanted.

  They stared at each other, their breath fast and harsh.

  “I meant only to dance.” His voice was rough and slightly labored.

  Eliza drew a ragged breath and released it slowly before she answered. “I love dancing with you.”

  Surely, it was a trick of the starlight that made it look as though his hands trembled a bit before he curled them into fists at his sides. He stepped back until he came up against the railing of the balcony. “Go inside. I need a moment.”

  Desire flowed freely through her blood and she resisted his cool dictate. She understood the interlude could go no further while Lady Rutherford’s guests were gathered merely steps away. But that knowledge did not manage to curb her reckless impulse.

  She closed the space between them, grasped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. The kiss lasted barely a second, but it was enough for desire to flare hot through her core as she felt the hard ridge of his erection against her belly.

  She pulled away, and with a final glance at his fierce scowl and tense jaw, she rushed across the balcony, worried that if she didn’t leave him now she might never be able to.

  Over the next couple of hours, Rutherford avoided any further direct contact and maintained a constant distance as they moved about amongst the guests separately. Still, no matter if she was playing a game of whist or talking with Lady Rutherford or one of her sisters, Eliza was intrinsically aware of where he was at every moment. Every time she met his gaze, whether briefly in passing or for a long, intimate stare, she searched for some indication of what he was thinking. But his expression remained stern, his eyes mysterious.

  It was torture to go through the evening in such a manner, and by the time the guests began to wander to their beds, Eliza had decided she simply could not accept such uncertainty.

  Up in her bedroom, she practiced patience as the maid helped her out of her evening gown and into her nightclothes. Knowing she had some time to waste, Eliza sat still and quiet as the girl unpinned her hair and brushed the length of her brown tresses one hundred strokes before tying it all back at Eliza’s nape with a ribbon.

  Once the maid had been excused to find her own bed, Eliza sat by the light of a single flickering candle and waited another hour for the rest of the household to settle in for the night. Then she could endure no more.

  Opening her bedroom door a crack, she peeked out into the darkened hall. Her ears were perked for any sounds of movement or voices, but all she heard was the heavy thud of her own heart. She found the experience of creeping through a darkened country house on a mission to meet her lover thoroughly invigorating.

  Clamping her bottom lip between her teeth as a reminder to be as silent as possible, she left her bedroom and started down the hall on swift feet. It was a long way to the marquess’s bedroom, and she sent a quick prayer she would make it without encountering anyone, though if she did she had a ready excuse for why she might be out and about so lat
e at night.

  She barely made it two doors down from her bedroom when a large shadow swooped toward her. She nearly let out a shriek of alarm, but a hand fell heavily over her mouth, effectively cutting off any sound. The sharp scent of citrus and spice drifted through the darkness and her body reacted in an instant to the realization of the shadow’s identity. Her knees went weak and her stomach quivered.

  The marquess pushed her back against the wall of a small alcove. His large, muscled body pressed against hers, forcing the breath from her lungs and filling her with heat. She acknowledged the unexpected pleasure of being trapped between his solid male form and the wall at her back. It was strangely exhilarating to feel that moment of powerlessness against his strength.

  With one hand covering her mouth and the other wrapped about her waist, he lowered his head alongside hers to whisper against her ear. “You should not be wandering the halls so late at night. There is no telling who you may encounter.”

  When he did not immediately lift his hand from her mouth so she could answer, Eliza angled her jaw and nipped at the pad at the base of his thumb with her teeth. He gave a low growl but slid his hand from her mouth to rest it on her rib cage, his thumb pressing close to the underswell of her breast.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Eliza whispered. “What are you doing so far from your apartments?”

  Her question ended on a shuddering sigh as he slid his hand down her side in a sensual exploration that left her skin burning beneath her thin nightclothes.

  “I was coming to you,” he murmured against her temple and lowered his head to lightly kiss the outer curve of her ear.

  Eliza inhaled sharply. “You were?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  He pressed a whispering kiss to the side of her throat.

  Eliza’s heart rate leapt. She ached with a sudden yearning to rub her breasts against his chest, but her position between him and the wall did not allow much movement.

  “After our…dance on the balcony—” She broke off on a gasp as his gentle exploration turned possessive when he gripped the swell of her hip. Breathing deep to dispel the lightheadedness accompanying the flash of lust that claimed her, Eliza continued, “I was under the impression you wished to avoid me.”

  “I did.” His voice was a rough whisper. “I could not be near you without doing this.”

  He leaned away from her and brought his hands up to cup her breasts. Eliza’s head fell back against the wall. It was exactly what she wanted. The feel of his heavy palms covering her, lifting the weight of her breasts, released a wave of pleasure through her body, turning her limbs languid and her skin to fire.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she replied on a choked sigh as she lifted her hands to rest them against his chest. “I was so worried you regretted what happened earlier.”

  He released her breasts to brush his knuckles over the flat surface of her abdomen. “Yet you were coming to me anyway?”

  “I had to know…” Her voice held a weak tremor that revealed the trembling deep in her center.

  “Know what?” he asked, reaching down between her legs. He pressed the very tip of his finger to the sensitive bud of her sex, and Eliza’s eyes drifted closed. She tried to roll her hips into his hand, but his thighs held her firmly to the wall. She bit her lip in frustration and opened her eyes again to look up at him. His features were indiscernible in the darkness of the alcove. He was the highwayman now. Reckless and dangerous.

  “I had to know if you still wanted me,” she admitted on an exhale.

  The sound he made was nearly a growl. He shifted his stance so she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal jutting against her hip. Lovely indolent heat pooled between her thighs.

  He lowered his head beside hers to murmur harshly into her ear. “Do you have your answer, minx?”

  Eliza slid her hands up into his hair to splay her fingers against his skull. “I believe I do.” Angling her chin, she urged him to turn his head. Their lips met in a hot-breathed, open-mouthed gasping kiss.

  He held her tight with an arm around her waist and slid his hand farther between her thighs to press more insistently to her sex. She whimpered and tugged at his lips with her teeth, wanting to draw him in to her. Wanting to meld with him.

  He dragged his mouth from hers and chuckled when she tightened her hands around his skull in resistance. He rubbed his fingers along her sex, dampening the cotton of her nightgown, and murmured with a rough note of humor, “Another minute and I could take you here against the wall.”

  Desire flooded her at his words and her body pulsed in deep and private places. “Take me now,” she panted.

  A dangerous sound rumbled through his chest and he tightened his arm around her. “Ah, how your tempt me.” He proved his words by shifting to grasp her buttocks in his hands as he rocked his hips against her. The hard ridge of his sex ground against the sensitive peak of her sex.

  She gasped and dropped her forehead to his shoulder as a blaze of heat engulfed her. She was like softened wax in his hands. He could do whatever he wanted with her just then. He could have swept her gown up to her waist and plunged deep into her body right there in the middle of the hallway and she would have been grateful. She would have been ecstatic.

  But the marquess proved to have far more control than that. “Shall we retire to your bedroom?”

  “Yes,” Eliza managed on a swift release of breath. “It is so much closer than yours.”

  He laughed and she realized somewhere in the haze of her lust-filled brain that he was asking her permission to continue their rendezvous, not necessarily where they should continue. Still, her answer resulted in the favored response. He pushed away from the wall and grasped her hand to pull her along behind him on wobbly legs as he strode swiftly to her bedroom.

  Eliza let go of his hand as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. Not caring to waste a single minute, she released the ties of her robe and dropped it to the floor as she crossed the room. Then she grasped fistfuls of her nightgown and swept it over her head to toss it aside before she turned back to the marquess.

  He stood frozen just a few steps behind her.

  “Dammit, Eliza. You stop my heart,” he choked and clenched his hands into tight fists. His gaze roamed over the contours of her nude body. “You are stunning.”

  Pleasure swelled in her heart at his words, but when she looked down at herself, Eliza saw the same body she had always had reflecting with gold shadows in the flickering candlelight. She looked up again to see the marquess stalking toward her. Tilting her head, she asked curiously, “I am?”

  He reached her then and lifted his hands to lay them on her. She tingled in anticipation of feeling the slide of his palms on her bare skin. But then he curled his fingers back into fists, dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head.

  “So beautiful and ingenuously sensual it makes my teeth ache with the effort to maintain control.” His brows lowered over his gaze, shielding his thoughts, hiding the penetrating light of desire that shone in his eyes.

  “Then don’t.”

  “What?” He met her gaze again, and Eliza was struck breathless by what she saw there.

  Eliza felt the steady hum of barely contained sexual energy emanating from him. She wanted it. She wanted his need to consume her.

  “I give you permission to lose control,” she clarified.

  The light in his eyes blazed to full flame and a sound raw with animalistic hunger issued from his throat. He lunged for her, lifted her against his chest and carried her into the private shadows beneath the canopy of her bed.

  She laughed as he dropped her to the mattress. “Always the barbarian,” she accused.

  “And you love it,” he growled as his full weight covered her. Without pause, he gripped her buttocks and positioned her to accept the demanding thrust of his sex.

  Her laughter turned to a heady moan. “I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  What the hell was
Eliza doing in this part of town?

  As soon as he passed her walking along the street, Rutherford called for his carriage to be turned about. Unfortunately, the mid-day London traffic created a problem there, so he decided to catch her by foot rather than risk losing her. He instructed his driver to meet him once he was able to get the carriage turned around.

  Taking off after Eliza, he contemplated what could have drawn her to this neighborhood filled with business offices and solicitors.

  Had she become lost during a shopping excursion?

  But they were nowhere near the popular shopping lanes.

  His long strides ate up the distance between them quickly enough, and as he approached her from behind, he could not help but admire the lovely lines of her figure beneath her smart day gown and spencer. The woman’s curves were enough to make a man’s mouth water.

  The weekend at Boarhill had been more than three weeks ago, yet still he remembered every moment in minute detail. He had been forced to stay away from her for just that reason, worried that even a moment in her presence would incite him to lust.

  He had not been overly cautious, he realized as he forced down a rising tide of desire. Once he was within a few paces of her, he cleared his throat. “Miss Terribury.”

  She stopped and turned around with a start, her eyes wide with surprise. He noted the way her expression warmed to a wide smile and her eyes flashed with pleasure at the sight of him. He hoped she would always have cause to greet him so sweetly.

  “My Lord Rutherford, what a pleasant surprise.”

  Their greeting was properly formal, yet when he took her gloved hand in his, a wealth of sensual memories flickered in the depths of her gaze and his loins tightened even more. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I did not expect to see you in this neighborhood. Is your family nearby?”

  “No. I am on a personal errand,” she replied as she drew her hand back. He did not miss the evasive tone coating her voice.

  He lowered his brows. “Where is your groom?”