by Sara Bennett
“I shouldn’t think he’ll come,” Valentine assured him.
“Oh, I wish he would!” George declared. “I’d like to show him what I think of him.”
Valentine considered his brother and Marissa thought he might begin a homily on overly hasty behavior but instead all he said was, “Take care.”
With George gone the room seemed very quiet, and when Valentine yawned, Marissa rose to her feet and wished him goodnight. He smiled at her sleepily. “See you in the morning, minx,” he said.
Marissa hesitated, and then reached out to touch his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Valentine,” she said, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight.
“Nothing will happen to me,” he replied, but he reached up to take her hand in his. His fingers were warm, alive, comforting. Marissa trembled.
It was as if their passion, always so close to the surface, broke free. He pulled her down onto his lap, holding her close, his breath warm against her hair. “Marissa,” he groaned.
Her mouth trembled as she lifted her face to his. “Earlier you spoke to me as if you had made a decision about our future,” she said. “Tell me what you’ve decided, Valentine. I need to know.”
The moment stretched out and then his arms tightened. “Let’s go to bed, Marissa,” he said in a deep, husky voice that took her breath away. “Let’s go to bed right now.”
Chapter 29
Her mouth was warm and passionate, and he kissed her as he lifted her in his arms, finding it difficult to stop long enough to open the door. The passageway was in darkness, only a dull murmur of sound coming from beyond another door that led out to the front of the building. He kissed her again, before starting up the narrow, creaking stairs to the landing, and then stopped to kiss her once more.
Marissa wrapped her arms about his neck, her fingers twining in his hair. “Mmm.” She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, as if he were a delicious dessert. The soft warmth of her body shifted in his arms. He tightened his grip and moved toward his chamber, ducking his head under the lintel as he pushed open the door.
His bed was turned down, the pillows fluffed up, and a lamp burned low on a table. Valentine carried Marissa to the bed and kissed her again, before he lay her down on the mattress. She sank into it with a gasp, struggling to sit upright, but he didn’t give her time to escape.
She gave a squeak as he landed beside her and then they both went still, staring into each other’s eyes.
It struck him, as it had the first time he saw her, just how beautiful she was, with her flawless pale skin and dark hair. Her thick, dark lashes swept down over her velvet brown eyes, then lifted again, and he looked deep inside her. This was a woman who had felt alone and isolated, who’d sought to follow her own dreams, and make her own happiness, with a determination and passion and intelligence that he couldn’t help but admire.
She would make him the perfect companion. They would never grow bored with each other, and although they may well argue they would always find a way to compromise. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance he knew now he couldn’t live without her, and he wasn’t going to fight with himself any longer.
“I love you,” he said.
The corners of her full mouth lifted, and that irresistible dimple appeared. He bent and set his lips to it, and then kissed her mouth. She arched up against him, slipping her hands inside his jacket and then, as if that wasn’t enough, tugged his shirt out from his breeches and touched his skin.
He shuddered, feeling the rush of blood to his head and his groin, taking all thought of caution with it. He reached for the fastenings of her prehistoric gown, fumbling at buttons and hooks and laces. Finally he tugged it over her head and flung it to the floor. They were both panting now.
“You may as well be wearing a medieval chastity belt,” he groaned, flicking a finger over her underwear.
Marissa glanced down at herself and giggled. Then her face grew serious and she said, “I wonder if Richard de Fevre’s wife was forced to wear a chastity belt before he left for the Crusades?”
“Taking the key with him, do you mean?” he mocked.
She looked appalled. “Would he have done that, Valentine? Left her like that for years? And what if he didn’t return, what then?”
Valentine smiled. “I think the idea was to leave a spare key with a trusted friend or servant, so that his wife could be released if he was captured or killed.”
“How unfair,” Marissa retorted.
“Unfair in what way?” he asked, beginning to undo the buttons of her chemise, one by one, disclosing her pale skin and soft curves. A dark rose nipple butted his hand and his mouth watered.
“Unfair that de Fevre would force his wife to take a vow of chastity, whether she wanted to or not.”
He’d opened her chemise fully now, and was working on her stays, fingers trembling slightly in his haste to have her naked.
“Perhaps she wore it willingly, Marissa.”
Marissa looked uncertain, seeming not to notice he’d now divested her of her corset and was working on the ties of her bloomers. “I don’t think so. Women are not great believers in being uncomfortable just to prove a point. They’re practical creatures.”
That made him stop and raise his eyebrows. “Really? So you think I am a romantic dreamer with no notion of reality?”
“I think you are a little removed from the outside world, but that’s to be expected of a man who is an expert in roses.”
He sat back on his haunches and stared down at her, then he folded his arms for added effect. She blinked. He waited.
“Why have you stopped?” she said in a little voice.
“I thought you must want me to,” he retorted.
She smiled. That dimple again. His heart began to beat quickly in his chest, echoing the beat of his blood as he looked down at her charming disarray.
“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted. “I talk when I’m nervous.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Now she looked contrite, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “What can I do to make up to you, Valentine? There must be something you’d like me to do?”
“Well…” He pretended to consider the question. “You could take off your stockings for me. Slowly.”
She bowed her head submissively. “Yes, Valentine.”
He watched as she stretched out her leg, and reached down to untie the ribbons holding the stocking up over her knee. Slowly she rolled it down, taking her time, arching her foot. His gaze was fixed on the line of her leg but then he noticed her breasts were rocking gently with each movement she made, and it was too much for him. He reached for her, planting openmouthed kisses on her, finding a turgid nipple and drawing it in.
Marissa clasped his head and held him to her, her head thrown back and her eyes shut as she gave herself up to the wondrous sensation.
He found her other breast, giving it the same treatment, and then he was pushing down her bloomers, while she wriggled eagerly, trying to help. Her skin was feverish, and he could smell the musk of her arousal. It only added to his own need.
He nudged her thighs apart and began to stroke her slick flesh, playing with her, causing her to gasp and moan and press against him, seeking the release she knew he could give her. But this time Valentine knew it was going to be different. This time he was finally going to claim her.
He knelt above her, and began to remove his jacket. Now that he was no longer touching her, Marissa opened her eyes, pushing her hair back out of her face, where it had tumbled wildly. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes gleamed softly. He drew his shirt over his head and tossed it after the jacket. Then his hands went to the buttons at his waist, while she watched with flattering attention.
His body was hard, straining toward her, and she reached out to grasp him in her hand, moving closer, focused on what she was doing. As he looked down at her, wary and yet excited almost beyond control, she began to lap at him with her to
ngue.
Valentine felt desire roar through him, drowning out everything, as her warm lips closed over the head of his cock. Bending over him as she was, he could see the smooth line of her back, the bones of her spine drawing his eye down to the rounded curves of her bottom.
He knew he could let her have her way, spill into her mouth, and she would not be shocked or outraged. But such pleasures were for later. Now he just wanted to take her as he’d dreamed of so often.
Gently he lifted her, hands spanning her waist, and as she gazed at him with passion blurred eyes, he began to kiss her mouth. She tasted of him, and there was something arousing about that, if he wasn’t already aroused nearly beyond bearing. She fell backward into the soft mattress, taking him with her, and their bodies slid and pressed together, naturally shifting into the best fit.
Her nipples were hard little beads against his chest, and he bent to kiss her breasts, his hand reaching again for the heat between her thighs. She was ready and he put the head of his cock against her, easing himself the first inch. She didn’t stop him or stiffen, rather she seemed to melt around him, urging him on to fulfillment.
“You must be patient,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He pushed further, feeling the resistance, and waited until any discomfort had passed. She groaned, hands sliding down to his buttocks and clasping him urgently. He was deeper now, and suddenly her maidenhead gave and he slid up to the hilt, nudging at her womb. She jolted and he felt her breasts rising and falling quickly, her hands still on him.
“Marissa,” he said, hoping she was unharmed, hoping all was well.
She moved, just a little, experimentally, and when it didn’t seem to hurt, she moved again. Her hot, tight body clenched around him and he groaned and thrust against her, his control slipping. Her breath was warm against his shoulder, and he felt her teeth nipping at him.
“Minx,” he managed, as he began to move against her, with a mixture of urgency and tenderness.
Her breathing was quickening again, but this time it was passion, and he felt the telltale signs within her as her pleasure began to peak. He shifted slightly, nudging deep inside, his rhythm quickening, the muscles of his buttocks and thighs tightening with the effort. And then she began to cry out, arching her back and clutching at him frantically. With a groan of relief he let his own control slip, and felt himself spilling within her, the ecstasy shaking him and tumbling him, so that he clung to her.
“Valentine,” Marissa whispered.
It was some time since either of them had spoken and she wouldn’t have now except that she felt the need to say something.
He grunted, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, his face in her hair. He’d rolled over onto his side, his body still connected to hers, and held her in his arms while they caught their breath. Marissa could feel the tingles and tremors in her body still, the momentous pleasure they had experienced together. If she’d ever doubted they were meant for each other then she did no longer.
“You don’t regret it?”
He lifted his head and opened one eye, peering blearily down at her. “Good Lord no! What a bloody silly question.”
“Well, it was you who said only a cad would ruin me,” she said mildly. “I thought I should ask.”
He chuckled and hugged her closer. “I’d only be a cad if I didn’t marry you after I’d ruined you.”
“Is that a proposal?” she said quietly.
“Will you marry me, Marissa?” He was smiling but there was a seriousness in his expression that told her he was in earnest.
She could have accepted immediately; it was on the tip of her tongue to do so. But she wanted to wallow in the moment, enjoy the pure bliss of knowing her future happiness was certain. And, if she was really honest, there was still a tiny kernel of doubt. Her practical side was telling her, loudly, that she’d sworn never to marry a botanically inclined man, and here she was considering spending the rest of her life with one.
You’ll be standing on rainy hillsides with freezing fingers while he ignores you and croons over his latest find…
No, he wouldn’t do that!
Defiantly, Marissa nuzzled against his throat, enjoying his scent. Her leg was resting on his thigh, and now she felt his cock twitch against her. He moved as if to draw away, probably believing once was enough for a virgin, but she was not having that.
“First, can we do it again?” she asked innocently.
“Minx,” he growled, clasping her in his arms.
“Your minx,” she said, with the sense that she was burning her bridges, and then gasped as he began to show her all over again how wonderful they could be together.
Chapter 30
Valentine opened one eye. The room was still, apart from Marissa’s gentle breathing as she slept. Any doubts he’d had were gone, laid to rest by the knowledge that he’d made the right choice. For a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the feel and sound of her, as she lay next to him, and to imagine what it would be like in the years ahead, going to bed with her and waking up to her every day and every night.
But there was something he must do first, a dark shadow that could not be allowed to intrude upon his happiness and Marissa’s safety any longer.
He rose, stretching, and went to the window, lifting aside the blind to see outside. The yard was in shadow, moonlight barely penetrating beyond the crooked rooftops of neighboring buildings. As he’d expected, no one was about.
Making as little noise as possible he pulled on his clothing, and then sat down to put on his boots. Marissa didn’t wake, for which he was grateful. She would argue with him and want to come with him, and he wasn’t about to put her into any more danger. Which was why he hadn’t told her what he intended.
She’d be angry about that, too, but he’d face her recriminations later. Running his hands through his hair, he went to the door. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, at the shape of Marissa in his bed, and smiled. Who would have thought his life would be transformed so swiftly and so completely by this woman?
Valentine wasn’t a violent man, but if violence was necessary to stop Augustus from ruining their future then he would use it. He found his hands had folded into fists, and he opened them, forcing himself to be calm. Tonight he’d end this matter, one way or the other, he told himself, as he closed the door quietly behind him.
The landing was chill, and as he stood a moment getting his bearings, words echoed softly in his head.
“I will steal her, and when I do I will use her until every part of her smells of me. And even if she should live a hundred years and wash a hundred times every day she will never rid herself of my memory. And neither will you, every time you look at her and hold her and kiss her. You will think of me, Valentine.”
Remembering made him icy with rage. Normally he thought of himself as a hot-blooded man with a fiery temper when it was roused, but not this time. The anger he felt toward Von Hautt was glacial, and he knew when he got hold of the other man he would find it difficult to control his fury.
The parlor was dimly lit, the fire had burned down to mere coals. He warmed his hands as he waited for the innkeeper to bring him a tankard of ale while his horse was being saddled. They’d made the arrangement last night, out of Marissa and George’s hearing, and now it was time.
“Your horse is ready,” the man said, entering the parlor, his eyes reddened with lack of sleep and his hair on end.
“Good,” Valentine said, taking the ale and gulping it down.
“How is your head, sir?”
He’d forgotten about his head, he’d had far more enjoyable things to think of. “Better, thank you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to send for your brother, so’s he can go with you?” he said.
“Quite sure.” Valentine noticed he didn’t offer to come himself, but even if he had he would have refused the offer. This was something he wanted to do on his own.
The horse’s breat
h was steamy in the damp air, and quickly he mounted and set the animal at a walk out of the stable and into the yard. Water dripped from the roof and ran down his back, and he grimaced, shrugging his shoulders. A light rain was still falling but it wasn’t enough to worry him and he set off.
The road from the village to Beauchamp Place was empty and Valentine set his horse at a gallop beneath the night sky. The worst of the rain might be gone but the road gleamed wet and there were numerous puddles, reflecting the moon as it darted behind clouds and peered out at him through the cold mist. Swaths of white hung in the dips and hollows, and seemed to spin like webs about the horse’s hooves. Valentine rode on.
Soon the dark shape of the manor house loomed to his right, and as he slowed to observe it more carefully he spotted a gleam of lamplight in one of the upstairs windows. Just a brief flicker before it was hidden again. He was there then, his arch enemy; Baron Von Hautt who hated Valentine with all his heart.
It was time to confront him and discover why.
Marissa opened her eyes and moved in the bed. At once she felt unfamiliar aches and twinges, as if her body belonged to someone else. And then she remembered. In a way she was someone else. She was Valentine’s lover. She had given herself willingly to him and stepped into a new phase of her life.
As she thought of the pleasure they had taken with each other her smile grew. She could hear the deep rumble of his voice in her head: Minx. He’d asked her to marry him. She felt immensely privileged and lucky. Valentine had tried to convince her he was staid and tedious and she’d grow tired of him, but she knew that wasn’t how she saw him at all. She had finally realized that it didn’t even matter that he was involved in botanical pursuits—surely she could deal with that? She would even join him on his expeditions—she pictured sleeping under the stars in Valentine’s arms.