They had this night, before reality intruded and they were forced to resolve the danger that threatened them, and he intended to show Livie all the love in his heart. He broke free for no other reason than to reassure her that their futures were intertwined. ‘You love me, past, present and future, and I love you now and for ever. We were meant to be together.’ She shuddered in his arms, trembled with relief and desire, he was sure of it; and with that bold assumption, he swept her into his arms and made way to the ladder leading to the moonlit loft.
It may all be a dream. With the danger of the abduction, the humiliation of having her body touched and probed by strangers, and then an unceremonious abandon afterwards, how could she blame her mind for escaping into a fantasy place?
Now, their fingers laced in promise, they stood at the base of the ladder with only one lantern to lend light. Above, shards of fractured moonlight lit a loft laden with thick hay. It looked a little like heaven and she smiled.
He took the ladder first, though he stopped often and glanced below as if worried any flickering shadow or dark corner would steal her away. She followed. Her skirts wrapped the railing as she climbed into the space and she tumbled into the hay, but it didn’t matter. She knew what was about to happen, and she wanted it. An undeniable finality of emotion filled her heart as she took Randolph’s hand and settled beside him.
The moon was high, a sign it approached midnight, and while they didn’t know how long they would remain locked in the stable, they were aware they had the better part of the night.
Without a word, Randolph removed his wrinkled overcoat and then his waistcoat, pulling the tails of his white linen shirt free to wave in the soft breeze from the window. He looked incredibly handsome, limned in the golden light, a virile, potent image that had her heart thundering a dangerous beat. She took him in, wide shoulders, broad chest and wicked grin, how his eyes glittered under dark, slashed brows, his profile outlined in heroic detail. His body was a wall of muscle. She’d suspected as much from their unforgettable kiss at the opera, but now, as he released the buttons of his shirt, the vee of the collar falling open, cuffs free, deep licks of excitement shivered through her. She grew wet with wanting. Unable to stand still, she shifted from one foot to the other.
‘Come here.’
Amusement lingered in his voice and a tremor echoed through her. She didn’t hesitate. ‘The world has conspired to keep us apart.’
‘You are my world. You have been for a long time now.’
He removed her spectacles, placing them in a corner for safety before his hands engulfed her shoulders, pushing the fabric away to capture her closer, strength where she was delicate, heat against her cool skin. He lowered his head for a devouring kiss, a ravishment almost punishing in its demands. Craving, wanting, the same degree of yearning which coursed through her veins. He drew his tongue along the line of her lips and she obeyed his request, wanting to taste, touch, experience, remembering how every word had touched her soul, wanting the same man to touch her heart.
Their tongues wrapped, rubbed, tangled with the same agility as their hands. At first shy, she soon realised the more she dared to offer, the more he gave in return, his attention plentiful and enticing. Somehow, if at all possible, his kisses felt familiar, as if she’d kept them safely tucked inside and now opened the lid to a special box, setting them free. She needed to feel more of him, be closer to him.
They didn’t waste time with delicate considerations, her clothes shed with haste, the torn, damaged skirts of no use other than to line the soft bed of fresh hay inside the ample privacy of the loft. High above the ground, near the open window and the stelliferous sky, suspended over air, the loft lent an ethereal quality to their liaison. Anticipation, strong and persistent, swirled within her belly, deep down, between her legs where she wanted him to touch her again, bringing her to that otherworldly place where time stopped and emotion ruled.
They disrobed in tandem, shedding layer after layer to create a mattress of linen and silk atop the clean hay, until, hands held, they lay in each other’s arms, skin to skin, breathing in tandem, absorbing the sensations, allowing the thrill and enchantment to soak through their souls, just as the confessions of their letters had done so long ago.
She wanted more, so much more, yet to rush would be to lose the reverence of their joining, and so she waited, spooned against his lean, muscular body, his hard erection pressed to the small of her back, his hands in a possessive hold across her breasts as his mouth tasted her neck, his teeth nipping a path as erotic and sensual as the position of their intertwined bodies.
Everywhere they touched, a shock of awareness sparked her skin, his strong muscles against her softness, the brush of his chest hair on the curve of her spine, the burn of new whiskers as he sought kiss after kiss, taste after taste.
The swirling within began and he hadn’t touched her sex yet. It was all too much and yet too little. With a willing cry, she reached for his hand, moving it from the peak of one breast where he pinched and teased, down to her stomach, lower to her centre.
He growled against her nape, biting her shoulder in agreement as he sank his fingers between her legs, into wet warmth and quivering sensitivity. He groaned against her skin, the deep vibration echoing the shock of sensation thrumming in her core.
The first wave of pleasure caught her by surprise, the acute intensity almost too strong, and unable to remain still, she climaxed, her bottom tucked hard against his sex, the insistent rub of his cock a joyful, sinful temptation while his fingers caressed her with sensual pressure. She let the pleasure rescue her, take her away to the place he’d shown her, a moment composed of suspended time, where everything became feeling and nothing else mattered.
And he ensured she experienced it all, his kisses hard and devouring along the line of her shoulder, his hold tight on her hip as her body quaked with wave after wave of indescribable sensation. All the while, the heated press of his cock against her backside reminded of what experience lay ahead, anticipation the best aphrodisiac.
For two people who’d formed an irreparable bond by committing words to paper, not a syllable was exchanged, the precious exchange physical, emotional and communicated without a sentence uttered.
She had never felt more fulfilled. Sated, she breathed deep, restored clarity and twisted so she faced him, nestled on their straw bed, the air heavy with the scent of lovemaking and lust.
‘Let me touch you and kiss you the same way.’
He cradled her face in his palms, threaded his fingers through her unruly hair and placed a silent kiss on her mouth. Then he closed his eyes and waited.
With little effort she pushed his shoulders down to the makeshift bed and brushed her fingertips across his nipples. The muscles of his chest bunched, smooth and tight, and in a bold move she pressed her mouth to his skin, flicking her tongue across the hardened tips while her hand coasted across his taut abdomen, the ridged muscles an erotic diversion. Her hand slid lower and encircled his hard length.
He gave a sharp inhale, every inch of him rigid, and she paused, fearing she’d caused him pain. But she had waited too long for this moment of giving, dreamed and fantasised of offering him pleasure. He’d evoked in her endless revelations of gratification and she wanted to show him the same. Vowing to be gentle she moved her palm against his shaft and he groaned, a sound of pleasure, not pain, so she went again, developing a rhythm that promised to bring him to climax, his one hand lost in her hair while the other remained clenched by his side.
They remained silent, other than small sounds of love play, and as she worked to bring him the joy she’d cherished inside, she soaked in his magnificence, naked, muscular and regal in the shafted moonlight. He seemed lost, somewhere else, and with a subtle movement she shifted to bring her mouth over his cock, wrapping her lips around his hot, silken shaft in a bold kiss of carnal sensuality.
She moved with slow attention, her tongue smoothing a line down his length as she took him in
to her heat and his groan this time was all pleasure, no pain, so she lifted her head and took him again, just as precisely.
Perhaps it proved too much, her wet, insistent caress. He cursed, something wicked that almost caused her to smile, and then he shuddered and yanked her away, rolling to the side and spilling himself on the fabric beneath, his breath in raspy exhales, seemingly tempered by sheer effort and determination.
But he did not take respite.
Catching her by surprise he spun, reversing their positions with one elegant sweep of his arm so that she lay completely under him, encapsulated beneath his broad chest, caged by his muscular arms, absorbing his warmth, his scent, his attention. The wet tip of his cock pressed hard to her skin.
‘You are a vixen; a tempting little minx, slight of form, bespectacled and innocent, but able to bring a man to his knees, quite literally, with one flick of your velvet tongue.’
She smiled, gratified she’d achieved pleasure. ‘I love you, Randolph.’
‘And I you, Lavinia.’ He breathed deep and she could feel the action against her breast, their bodies perfectly aligned. ‘This is not one last moment. This is not a dream we’re creating because it is all we have.’ His strong words, though low-spoken, were stated with absolute conviction. ‘This is our beginning and no one will interfere with our future.’
They fell silent again and she dared wonder if he stated the vow because he, too, doubted what would occur once the sun rose. The unwelcomed suggestion fortified her intentions more than diminished them, refusing to allow apprehension to ruin the evening.
‘Make love to me, Randolph. Show me how very much you believe we were meant for each other.’
‘As you wish, sweet Lavinia, keeper of my heart. It would be my honour.’
Chapter Nineteen
There was no need to hurry; the impatience to feel each other’s nearness passed. Instead, the desire to savour the nuance of their joining set the pace for their actions. He viewed her in splintered shadows, her hair catching the glint of moonlight, the chilled night air causing their breath to steam between them. He settled his weight between her legs, supported on his arms not to crush her, and dipped his head to taste her breast, the tender skin melting on the heat of his tongue, while the tip, hard and tight, begged him to bite and suckle. What a glory, to taste, feel, inhale her scent, fresh and floral, heated and sultry. So many sides to this beautiful woman and he meant to know them all.
Her hands rested on his arms, settled there to smooth over his shoulders as if she enjoyed touching the movement of his muscles, revelled in his hard masculinity in contrast to her feminine delicacy. At times she would clasp the ends of his hair, tug and grasp as if she, too, wanted to learn the texture and quality.
He knew not how long he’d last, having spilled himself when she’d fondled his cock, and he yearned for their lovemaking to consume the night. She may be an innocent, but she was his.
Now.
Forever.
He poised to enter her with the thought.
A subtle nudge for her legs to open and she offered her body as if the most natural act. The tip of his cock throbbed at her entrance, wet and hot against wet and hot. She was tight. He didn’t wish to hurt her. His hesitation shot her eyes open and he leaned in for another reassuring kiss.
With a mental entreaty for patience, he fitted himself, lowered his hips to the ideal angle and thrust between her slick folds. She was ready. Molten heat, her muscles closed around him and he trembled with restraint. How he wanted to drive into her. Lose himself to their erotic fantasy, but he cared too much for Lavinia to surrender to his need without a care for her comfort. Instead, with forced endurance, he withdrew and entered, again a little deeper. Again, faster and harder. She matched his movements, meeting his thrusts, her body bowed with the rhythm of their lovemaking, her arms that loosely encircled his neck long ago fell from grasp. Her eyes were closed yet he felt as though he saw into her soul, so much beauty and tenderness his heart ached, tightening in his chest, near full of love and reverence unlike the anxiety-ridden pains of his past.
This was true happiness.
Another thrust and he clenched his teeth, willing himself to endure, yet his mind was no match for his body. He captured her moan of pleasure with his kiss, her body awash with climax as he spilled into her, hot life, hopes, dream, vows; everything he’d ever wanted and never knew to wish for lay within his arms.
It was much later, after they made love again and reassembled somewhat to recover smalls and other under dress articles, that Livie dared to breech the unspoken subject which created a wall between their happiness and the present.
‘What will happen when Allington returns? I understand everything you’ve told me and hope Esme has helped Dashwood and my sister to realise the circumstances, but if he meant to force you to marry Claire…’ Her voice trailed off on a desolate note.
‘His plan has the markings of a madman. It’s dangerous, convoluted and can come to no good end. I am disappointed Claire would stoop to participate, but with these circumstances I realise I know even less about her character than I assumed. To think I selected her as a candidate for wife when all along I was herded and manipulated in that direction by Allington’s persuasion. I can’t count the fencing matches I’ve shared with him when he’s prodded my intentions. All along he meant to sweeten the coffers by convincing me to invest, when it would supply further funds for his theft. I’d fallen prey to his influence when I should have exercised finer judgement.’
‘How will we leave here when he means us harm?’ She frowned. ‘And I haven’t any shoes.’
‘I had hoped the loft window somehow aided our situation, but not only is the drop a steep twenty-five feet, while I might manage climbing down knotted blankets there is no purchase to anchor the line and I could never take the chance with your safety.’ He shook his head with frustration. ‘What did Allington say when he discovered you didn’t have the diamonds?’
‘He was angry and voiced a great many expletives blaming the man named Hawkins. But while I feared he would strike me, he merely pushed me down to the floor of the stall, locked the latch, and left.’ She shuddered with the retelling. ‘I assume he decided finding the diamonds was more important than taking the time to search me again.’
His gentle embrace went hard and motionless as she finished her sentence.
‘Search you again?’ The words were forced through clenched teeth. ‘Did he touch you? Lay one finger on your skin? I will snap Allington’s neck. No…’ He repositioned so he leaned on his right elbow and stared at her with fierce intent. ‘No, I will take great pleasure running him through with my sword, the heartless bastard.’
‘I doubt you have the possession to kill. Sometimes the illusion of doing something pales when compared with the reality.’ She brushed her fingertips across his jaw, easing the tension there and then strayed, her fingertip resting near the corner of his mouth, coasting across the bottom and then top where she caressed the deep cleft of his upper lip. ‘Then other times the reality exceeds even one’s bravest imaginings.’ She sighed. ‘You’re very handsome.’ She stole her fingers back and waited for his response.
‘You’re not wearing your spectacles.’ He tapped the tip of his nose. ‘But that doesn’t matter. You look all muzzy from our lovemaking. Drowsy and delicious. And in this case, the reality was far better than any illusion I’d conjured. Are you warm enough? I’ve never been so thankful for clean horse blankets.’
They shared a soft laugh and Livie found the more she looked at him, this man who’d become the core of her life for longer than she could remember now, the more she wanted to look at him. ‘I feel very well loved.’
‘As you should. Always.’ He cuddled her against his chest, their bodies as close as two sides of the same coin. ‘Let’s get some rest. As much as I’d like to keep you cosy and share stories, morning will arrive in a few hours and I intend to level Allington and exact our escape. He’s tangled with the
wrong earl, and without laudanum to assist, he will soon discover he doesn’t stand a chance.’
There wasn’t anything to add to that vow and, content to be held in Randolph’s safe embrace, she closed her eyes and found sleep.
The new morning began much as they predicted, but unlike the series of events which led them to be locked in the stable overnight, Livie and Penwick were ready. They’d risen at the first ray of sunlight through the loft window, the undercurrent of escape ever simmering below a visage of fitful sleep, a sporadic reminder that daybreak brought danger. Few words were spoken, whether to preserve the fragile beauty of the night shared in each other’s arms or because each considered that in view of the pending confrontation, inescapable and threatening, nothing could be said.
Now, assembled as best possible, for with irony she still lacked shoes, they waited. One of her overskirts was positioned in the stall where she’d been locked, partially covered by hay to provoke Allington to enter and investigate. With luck he would arrive alone, not wishing to involve others in his deranged perpetration. Penwick hoped to lock him in once he entered the stall to rouse her. Of course, the two had planned for several other outcomes should events not unfold as hoped.
‘Are you ready, my love?’
Her soon-to-be hero husband looked dashing in his rumpled, dishevelled appearance. More accustomed to his pristine attire, viewing him now, bruised and beaten, his coat and shirt dirtied, warmed her heart in a strange condition she could not label. Danger awaited them and yet here she stood considering how handsome her future husband appeared and the glory of their intimacies the night before.
Her neck still burned from the rub of his fresh whiskers and she touched the tender place, the sensation a cherished reminder of their love play. The action stirred the scent of his cologne, cashmere and bergamot alive on her skin, and she smiled with secret delight.
His Forbidden Debutante Page 19