Intimate Deception

by Laura Landon

  “Is she healthy, Caroline? Why hasn’t she cried?”

  The babe chose that moment to utter her first very loud, healthy cry.

  Grace breathed a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Vincent looked at the babe Lady Josalyn held in her arms. His daughter was smaller than her brother but looked perfect. Even her delicate cry was perfect.

  Vincent sat in a chair beside her bed and watched Grace sleep. Her sisters had bathed her and put her in a pretty satin gown sprigged with dainty yellow embroidered flowers and trimmed in lace. Even though dark circles rimmed her eyes and her face was still pale, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was his wife. The mother of his children.

  He loved her with such fierceness it frightened him.

  Josalyn and Anne were in the next room with the babes. He could hear their low whispers as they cooed over the newborns. God’s miracles.

  Sarah and Francine would come later, and Caroline and Mary tomorrow. They would all watch closely for the next few days to make sure Grace didn’t come down with a fever.

  Vincent would keep his own watch. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her ever again.

  He dropped his head back against the chair and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe it was over. Couldn’t believe Grace had survived his cousin’s attempts to kill her. Couldn’t believe Grace had given him not one, but two perfect babes. Vincent knew he was the luckiest man on earth.

  He silently thanked God again for blessing him so and vowed anew to keep his promise. Even though he knew it was a terrible penance to pay, he would never risk losing Grace with another pregnancy.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still worrying, Vincent.”

  Vincent sat forward in his chair and reached for Grace’s hand. “That isn’t worry you see, my love. That’s the humble look of a man who has just been given the world. I have just returned from looking at them again. They are beautiful, Grace. You have made me the happiest man alive.”

  Vincent lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel such love. Both for the children I never thought I’d have and for the wife I am so blessed to have. I love you, Grace.”

  “And I love you,” she said, touching her palm to his cheek. “Have you chosen a name for your son?”

  “I think Edward,” he said, watching her reaction. “After my father.” She smiled, and he gave her the rest of their son’s name. “He will be Edward Andrew Vincent Germaine, twelfth Marquess of Hayworth.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “And what name have you chosen for your daughter, Grace?”

  She hesitated, then said, “I would like to call her Hannah.”

  Vincent smiled. “Yes. I think Hannah would be very pleased to have our daughter named after her. She is, after all, responsible for her being here.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said with tears in her eyes.

  Vincent leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, then pulled away at the soft knock on the door.

  “The servants are here to remove Your Grace’s things,” Alice said, holding the door open.

  Vincent nodded. “Send them in.”

  “What’s happening, Vincent?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself over, Grace. For now I think it’s best if I move to another room so you won’t be disturbed.”

  “No, Vincent.”

  He heard the disappointment in her voice and saw the frown deepen on her forehead, but ignored it. He had no choice. He’d never be able to stay in the same room with her, let alone the same bed, and not touch her. “You need the rest. I would only bother you.”

  He nodded for Alice to show the servants in and take everything that was his out of Grace’s room. Before Grace could question him further, Josalyn and Anne came into the room. They each carried one of the twins in their arms.

  Vincent helped Grace to sit and propped some pillows behind her back.

  Josalyn reached the bed first. “Your son is already showing quite an independent streak, Grace. He isn’t shy at all in letting us know when he wants to be fed.” Josalyn placed a fussing Edward in Grace’s outstretched arms.

  “I can see already he’s going to take after his father,” Grace said, smiling up at him.

  “And your daughter already shows exquisite manners and a quiet, calm temperament,” Anne said, holding a contented Hannah.

  Grace looked at him with a gleam in her eyes. “She’s obviously going to take after me.”

  Vincent laughed and waited until the servants were out of the room before soundly kissing his wife, then leaving her to feed the babes. The minute he left the room he breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to the babes, he’d escaped an argument. He knew it wasn’t over, but for now, any concerns Grace had about his moving out of her room were, if not forgotten, at least delayed.

  Chapter 23

  Grace listened to the mantel clock below strike two in the morning, then slipped out of bed and lowered her feet to the cool wooden floor, long chilled from the dying fire in her room. With a slight shiver, she lifted her nightgown over her head and tossed it across a chair. The cool night air brushed against her bare flesh and she shivered again before slipping into the thin satin robe she’d painstakingly laid out before she’d gone to bed.

  The material did little to warm her, but warmth was not her intent. Not now. She’d be plenty warm later on.

  She smiled to herself and looped the tie at her waist just tight enough to hold the satin together, then walked to the door. She was off to wage a war, to fight a battle, to defeat the enemy. She smiled a broad smile and shivered a third time as a rampaging wave of desire swirled low in her belly.

  She was off to seduce her husband.

  She walked down the hall and stopped before the door to the room he’d moved into six weeks ago, on the night their twins had been born. She’d known his intent from the first, had known he was distancing himself from her because of his fears. Fears he’d battled since his first wife died. Fears he’d struggled to defeat even before he knew for sure she was carrying his child. Fears he was convinced he was not brave enough to face again.

  Grace was aware of his nightmares, just as she knew he foolishly thought he could be content never to resume the private side of their marriage. And since there’d been little she could do until now to counteract such an absurdity, for six weeks she’d let him think she was in agreement with his decision.

  Nothing was further from the truth. It was time to show him she was not satisfied merely holding hands or sharing a chaste and polite kiss. Time to show him she would never be content with a marriage that lacked physical intimacy. Time to find a release to the building desire that grew increasingly intolerable by the day. Time to end the self-imposed separation he foolishly thought would keep her safe.

  She no longer worried that the ton would speculate that she’d gotten pregnant in order to trap Vincent into marrying her. Because she’d been carrying twins, and because of the tragedy that had occurred the day the twins were born, the babes’ early arrival hadn’t even been noticed. Now, no one would count months when they heard she was increasing again.

  She smiled and opened the door to his room, not bothering to knock. Not bothering to give him warning.

  She expected to find him in bed, but the covers were thrown back and the bed empty. He was obviously spending as restless a night as she.

  She looked around the room. Her gaze found him staring out the window, his gaze locked onto the darkness, his hands clasped behind his back. No wonder each morning he looked like he hadn’t slept the night before.

  She wanted to laugh. At least tomorrow morning there would be a reason for his tired look.

  Grace knew the minute he realized she was there. He turned and took one step toward her, then stopped. Concern etched his features. “Grace? Is something wrong with the children?”

  “No, Vincent. Edward and Hannah are fine. In fact, they are perfect.” She took a step c
loser and worried her lower lip to keep from smiling. “It’s me.”

  “You?” Vincent crossed the distance that separated them in two anxious strides and clasped his hands around her upper arms. There was real fear in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Grace? Are you ill?”

  “Not exactly,” she answered, trying to stop the shiver his touch caused. “It’s more an ache. And it won’t go away. In fact, it seems to be getting worse and worse.”

  Deep worry lines crossed his forehead and Grace felt a momentary pang of guilt for worrying him so. She quickly brushed it aside.

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then pulled her closer to him. “Where do you hurt? Do you want me to send for the doctor?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid a doctor can’t help me.”

  He touched his fingers to her cheek, then his palm to her forehead. “You don’t seem to be fevered.”

  “Oh, yes. I think I am.”

  He felt her face again, then leaned his forehead to hers. The feel of him so close sent waves of molten heat spiraling to the pit of her stomach, then lower.

  “Would you please hold me?”

  “Of course,” he said eagerly. “Do you want to lie down?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Very well. Where does it hurt?”

  Grace pulled at the belt around her waist and pushed her wrapper from her shoulders. “Here,” she said and lifted his hands to her breasts.

  Vincent’s breath caught and he shuddered.

  Grace heard his breath catch and considered the raspy sound of his breathing the first sign of surrender.

  Vincent knew what she was doing. Knew what she intended would happen tonight. Bloody hell and damnation! Didn’t she know he couldn’t allow it? Didn’t she know the risk they’d be taking?

  His heart skipped a beat and he fought to move away from her. But his feet refused to move. He could do nothing but stand there with her breasts nestled in the palms of his hands. Bloody hell! This was torture of the worst kind.

  “Yes, Vincent. Touch me.”

  “Ah, Grace...”

  “Please. Hold me.”

  Her voice was soft and held a pleading quality to it he couldn’t resist. The battle raged fiercely inside him, and his only victory seemed to be a compromise. Maybe he would just hold her. But he vowed he would do no more.

  Vincent wrapped his arms around her and touched her soft, satiny skin. A thousand spirals of heat swirled in vicious circles all through his body. A molten whirlpool of desire rushed deep in his gut and he grew uncomfortably heavy. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath.

  He swore he would stand here for just a few moments, then let her go. Swore he would. But of their own volition, his hands moved in slow, gentle circles over her flesh.

  “Yes, Vincent. Now lower.”

  He drew his circles lower on her back.

  “Lower yet, Vincent.”

  His hands moved lower, and she sighed when he touched her. He was hot, hard, uncomfortable. He needed to stop. Needed to push her away from him. But he couldn’t.

  Then Grace lifted her head and said, “Kiss me, Vincent. Please.”

  And he was lost.

  His mouth lowered to hers and his lips touched hers, tasting her, drinking from her. And she answered his kiss with the same desperation that surged through him.

  He opened his mouth atop hers and met the boldness of her tongue as she came in search of him. They touched and parried and battled until neither of them could breathe. Then, with an agonized moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

  Vincent knew he was lost. Knew if he looked down, his resolve to never make love to her would lie shattered at his feet.

  “Ah, Grace...”

  “Shh, Vincent. Just love me.”

  He gasped a sharp intake of breath. The feel of her against him sent fiery heat spiraling low in his belly. Then she pressed a kiss against his flesh where his robe gaped open and it was nearly his undoing.

  “Grace?” His voice sounded heavy and strained even to his own ears.

  “Don’t talk, Vincent.”

  She kissed him again, then rained kisses over his face and neck and chest. And all the time, her hands worked frantically at his flesh, touching him until he was on fire.

  “I...we...” His back arched and his head dropped back on his shoulders. “Ah, hell.”

  “No, Vincent. But I’ll promise you heaven.” Grace slipped his robe from his shoulders and let it puddle at her feet. Then she went willingly into his embrace.

  His breathing was raspy and labored; his chest heaved as if he had to struggle to control his breathing. He couldn’t take much more of this. Couldn’t let this go much further. Yet he didn’t have the willpower to stop.

  His breaths shuddered. If he didn’t want her so desperately he might have the power to push her away from him. But he wanted her too much.

  He made the mistake of looking into her eyes and almost laughed at the raw desire that stared back at him. The same look he was sure he wore.

  “Touch me, Vincent. Please.”

  The moan that escaped him was rife with torture and agony, but Vincent wrapped his arms around her and held her as if he were desperate never to let her go.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, burying his face in her loose hair. “I swore I never would.” He gasped for more air. “Swore I’d never risk losing you again.”

  “You’re not going to lose me,” she whispered, touching her lips to his flesh. “You’re going to love me.” She kissed him again. “And love me.”

  She touched his cheek with her hand, then tilted her face and kissed him again.

  He fought as valiantly as any warrior had ever fought, but lost the battle with every kiss. He knew he couldn’t hold off much longer.

  “Love me, Vincent. Make love to me.”

  He moaned as if calling on every ounce of willpower he possessed. But he knew it was futile. He’d waited so long. Dreamed of loving her so many nights.

  On a heavy sigh he gave up the battle and stared at her with all his raw pain and fear exposed for her to see.

  “You’re going to force me to risk it all, aren’t you?”

  “I have to.”

  She lifted her mouth and kissed him on the lips.

  He moaned softly, then kissed her back. “I can’t fight this any longer.”

  “You’re not supposed to fight it, Your Grace. You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

  She kissed him again. Then again.

  “Grace, I promised. I—”

  She pressed her fingers atop his lips and stopped his words. “We’ll talk about your promises in the morning.”

  “By then it will be too late,” he said on a gasp.

  She smiled. “It’s already too late, darling. Now please. Love me.”

  With a moan of resignation, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Their lovemaking was a melding of passion and desire. Their need for a connection that bound them to each other was a beautiful culmination of love as it was intended to be.

  After he floated back to earth, Vincent cradled her to him, marveling at the perfect feel of her in his arms. He stroked her flesh, then kissed each spot where his fingers had touched her.

  “I love you, Grace,” Vincent said when his breathing had calmed.

  “Almost as much as I love you,” she answered.

  Vincent thought of the night she’d deceived him and smiled. He never thought her deception would turn out so perfectly.

  He tucked her close beside him and lowered his mouth to meet hers. “I should have known it was impossible to fight you.”

  She smiled as her hand cupped his cheek and rubbed her fingers across his jaw. “Impossible. From the first.”

  She wrapped her arm around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. The kiss they shared was a fusion of emotions neither of them could deny.

  At last, his mind under
stood what his heart had known all along. That the love they shared was strong enough to conquer all his fears. Strong enough to endure a lifetime...and beyond.

  About the Author

  Laura Landon taught high school for ten years before leaving the classroom to open her own ice-cream shop. As much as she loved serving up sundaes and malts from behind the counter, she closed up shop after penning her first novel. Now she spends nearly every waking minute writing, guiding her heroes and heroines to happily ever after. She is the author of more than a dozen historical novels, and her books are enjoyed by readers around the world. She lives with her family in the rural Midwest, where she devotes what free time she has to volunteering in her community.