“Michael,” she gasped.
“Are you frightened, love?”
Betsy gave a quick shake of her head and brought her eyes to his.
“However did you fit inside of me?” she asked. “You’re so big and I’m so small.”
Michael groaned.
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. “You’re small. And hot and wet. And when I was inside you I wished to stay forever.”
Betsy’s heart pounded as much at his words as at the heat in his dark eyes.
“Oh, my!” she whispered.
Michael bridged the gap between them and came down upon her on the bed, kissing her hungrily. Betsy moved beneath him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as pleasure began to pulse through her. He brought his mouth to her breast, flicking his tongue over her taut nipple. She arched upward, silently begging him to end the sweet torment. He gave her what she craved and closed his mouth over her nipple, gently teething the nub as she whimpered softly. His fingers found their way to the curls that shielded her womanhood and she parted her legs for him.
“Betsy, love,” he rasped, kissing her once more. “Are you ready for me?”
Betsy could hardly form the words, the intense pleasure of what he was doing to her nearly driving her out of her mind
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He gently lifted her hips and entered her. Betsy rose to meet his thrusts, her arms wrapped around his neck as he moved within her. There was no pain this night, thank goodness, and he seemed to fit her perfectly. His big body was poised over her and then he began to move. It was sublime. It was… What had he called her? Incredible.
Michael trembled and made the most beguiling sounds as he thrust harder. At the very moment his climax hit him Betsy joined him in fulfillment, crying out her pleasure into his mouth as his lips found hers.
Michael collapsed on top of her. She could scarcely draw breath, she was so replete with satisfaction.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her ear. “Have I pleased you?”
She sighed in answer, cuddling closer to him. Her fingers curled in the dark hairs on his chest. He dropped a kiss on her hair and let out a sigh of intense satisfaction.
“What are you thinking, love?” he asked her.
“You and I are so different, Michael,” she mused aloud. “How can it be we fit together?”
At her words, he laughed softly. He cupped her cheek with his hand as he looked down at her.
“You were made for my loving, Betsy,” he said in answer. “You fit me perfectly.”
She smiled lazily and closed her eyes. She ought to return to her room. A yawn took her and she cuddled closer. Lord, it felt so good to be held tight in his arms.
When she next opened her eyes the sun was beginning its ascent, bathing the room with soft pink light through the mullioned windows.
“Good morning, love,” Michael said.
“Morning,” she said around a yawn.
“You must return to your room, sweetheart,” he said, brushing a curl back from her face. “You mustn’t be found here.”
Betsy hurriedly donned her nightgown and wrapper. Before she left him, they shared a sweet kiss. Betsy stared up at him, waiting for the words she so longed to hear. When no declaration of love came from him, when no offer of marriage spilled from his lips, her heart sank. Perhaps what he had said last evening was true. Perhaps what they shared was merely lust. She accepted another sweet kiss and left his chamber.
Betsy slipped between the covers of her bed and hugged her pillow. It was of no consequence that Michael hadn’t professed his feelings. He loved her. It was evident in his beautiful eyes.
Chapter 11
Later that morning Michael reined in his horse and dismounted, patting the animal soundly. He set about the animal’s grooming, removing the horse’s bridle.
“Balsam,” Philip growled from the doorway.
Michael looked up, surprised to find Philip glaring at him.
“Wilton,” he said, his brow furrowed. “What the devil is troubling you, man?”
“In your office, Balsam,” Philip ground out. “Now.”
Perplexed, Michael handed the bridle to a groom and followed Philip into the office. He arched a dark brow at his friend.
“I believe you have me at a disadvantage, friend,” Michael said as he closed the door. “You’ll spook the horses with that dark look.”
“This isn’t a matter for jesting, Balsam,” Philip said. “What are your intentions?”
Michael blinked rapidly. “Intentions?” he repeated. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.”
“I know you’ve dallied with her,” Philip said curtly.
Michael pulled back. “How do you know that?”
“A servant saw her leaving your room this morning.”
Michael closed his eyes as the truth settled on him. “Ah, God.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “She’ll be disgraced.”
“Not necessarily.”
Michael opened his eyes and regarded him closely. “What are you saying, Wilton?”
Philip grinned. “I admit I, um, preceded my own wedding night.”
“Wedding night?” Michael asked. “I haven’t given thought to any such thing.”
“You haven’t given thought to asking for Betsy’s hand?” Philip fisted his hands. “What kind of scoundrel are you?”
Michael splayed a hand on his chest. “You do me grievous injury, Wilton.”
Philip took a deep breath. “Tell me, then,” he said. “Tell me of your intentions.”
“I would marry her tomorrow if I were able.”
“What the devil is stopping you?”
Michael paced the floor, raking his fingers through his hair. “My present situation hinders it, Wilton,” he said sadly. “Her father will never accept me.”
The two men were silent for several moments.
“Do you love her?” Philip asked at last.
Michael’s brow furrowed in thought. He wanted her like no other. She made him laugh and drove him mad both. Her happiness was most important in his mind. His brows shot up as the truth hit him.
“Yes,” he said. “I love her.”
Philip clapped his hands together. “It’s settled then!”
“But, what of the earl?” Michael asked. “How can you be so certain he’ll accept my offer for her?”
“Balsam,” Philip began, placing his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Trust me in this. The earl thinks very highly of true love. His views might be considered unconventional by some, but that’s the fact of the matter.”
Michael nodded absently, his mind focusing on another dilemma.
“I can’t give Betsy all she deserves,” he said. “If she were to leave me due to my situation, I don’t know what I would do.”
“She has a very large dowry, Balsam,” Philip said. “Surely a man of your talents will no doubt build upon it. And if someday you were to recover your fortune, all the better.”
“I will recover it,” Michael said firmly.
“Well then, there you have it,” Philip said with a smile.
Michael resumed his pacing, determination filling him.
“I’ll speak to the earl directly,” he said with a nod. “He’ll accept my offer. I’m certain of it.”
Philip clapped him on the back in hearty agreement. “Capital.”
Michael smiled in answer, satisfied to have a course of action at last.
After returning to his chamber and dressing with care, Michael went in search of the Earl of Bridgewater. He found Betsy’s father to be in his study and rapped determinedly on the door. At the earl’s bidding, he opened the door and greeted the man with a nervous smile.
“Lord Bridgewater,” he began. “I wish to have a word with you, sir.”
The earl furrowed his brow. “Is this a business matter, Balsam?” He came to his feet. “I had thought your partnership with Philip would keep you engaged.”
“This isn’t a
matter of business, sir,” Michael rushed out. “It’s a personal matter.”
“A personal matter?” Lord Bridgewater took his seat once more. “I do hope nothing untoward has happened.”
Michael gave a quick shake of his head and sat to face him. He’d given much thought to the many ways to broach the subject of his betrothal, still unsure of the direction he should take. He wished to be diplomatic. To voice his interest and gradually make his ultimate intentions known.
“I wish to ask for your daughter’s hand, sir.”
The earl blinked in surprise. Michael winced at his own blunder.
“You wish to marry Betsy?” Lord Bridgewater asked.
Michael took a deep breath to steel himself for the possible rebuke as he forged ahead. “Yes, sir. More than anything in this world.”
The older gentleman opened his mouth but Michael held up a hand to silence him. At the man’s nod, Michael voiced his concerns.
“I know my situation is a bit muddled at present, sir,” he said. “I would understand if you had doubts regarding your giving me your consent.”
“Balsam,” the earl said, his eyes warm. “I know what kind of man you are. Of your fine character. I trust you know of Betsy’s substantial dowry?”
Michael nodded. “I do, sir. I assure you that is not my incentive.”
Lord Bridgewater laughed lightly. “I should hope not,” he said to Michael. “I know you to be an intelligent and honorable young man. Philip has told me of your fine management of your venture thus far, and of your affinity for handling finances.” He looked at Michael with a touch of compassion. “It’s a pity your father had not those same talents, eh son?”
“Yes,” Michael said. “I regret I cannot offer Betsy all I would wish, sir. But you have my word she will never want for anything.”
Lord Bridgewater waved his hand dismissively.
“I must know one thing, son,” he said. “One thing that will seal this union.”
Michael could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. What would the earl wish to know? He swallowed thickly.
“You may ask me anything, sir.”
Lord Bridgewater leaned toward him. “Do you love her?”
“Yes,” Michael answered fervently. “More than I ever imagined I could love another.”
The earl flashed a bright smile now. “My dear boy,” he said, coming to his feet once more. “I could not choose a better man to wed my second daughter.”
Michael felt the tension leave his body in that instant. He bounded to his feet, clasping the earl’s offered hand with a hearty handshake.
“Thank you, sir,” he said with a grin. “You have truly made me the happiest of men.”
The earl smiled at him. “We’ll settle the marriage contract at another time, Balsam.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael agreed. “I believe I have need to speak with your daughter directly.”
At the earl’s nod, Michael left the study and hurried to parlor. He found Maggie working on her needlepoint within and smiled at her. She looked up at him in surprise.
“Lord Balsam,” she said with a nod.
“Excuse me, Maggie,” he said with a bow. “Have you seen Betsy?”
Maggie shook her head and opened her mouth to answer. Before she could say a word, he bowed again and left the room.
Michael raced up the stairs, intent on finding Betsy in her room. He nearly knocked Mary down in his haste.
“Do forgive me, Mary.”
“Hello, Lord Balsam.” The girl giggled. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“What?” he asked, gazing down the hall toward Betsy’s chamber. He returned his attention to the girl. “Yes, it is. Have you seen Betsy, Mary?”
“No, I haven’t,” Mary answered with an adorable pout. “She promised to show me some new stitches this morning but stayed abed until luncheon.”
Michael flushed and averted his gaze, knowing full well what had tired Betsy so. He looked back at Mary and soon found the odd speculation in her blue eyes quite disconcerting. He cleared his throat nervously.
“If you will excuse me, Mary,” he said with a bow. “I need to speak with your sister.”
Mary smiled sweetly up at him. “Are you going to tell her you love her?”
“What?” Michael asked, stunned.
Mary giggled again and dropped a curtsy. “Good day, Lord Balsam,” she said, skipping down the staircase.
Michael watched the girl go, his head still spinning at her words. Was he truly the last to know his own feelings?
He shook his head and rapped lightly on Betsy’s door. When no answer came from within, he turned and descended the stairs. Where the devil was she? He left the house, bound for his office in the stables.
As he entered the building, a burst of feminine laughter drew his attention. He turned swiftly, his eyes widening with appreciation as Betsy raced her horse toward the stables. She spied him and smiled brightly, reining in her horse before him.
“Good afternoon, Michael,” she said, still out of breath.
“Good afternoon, love,” he said in answer, grinning broadly.
He assisted her down from her mount and held his hands on her waist for much longer than was proper. She looked nervously about and shook her head at him.
“Michael,” she began in a whisper. “What are you about?”
He grinned wickedly at her. Her eyes widened as he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her ravenously.
“Michael,” she quietly admonished. “Someone may see us.”
He shrugged. “I care not,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her once more.
Betsy pulled back from him. “Do cease this,” she gasped, her brow furrowed with worry.
Michael relented and let loose his hold on her. She brushed her hands over her skirt and glanced about once more. He watched her, his grin widening.
“Did you have a pleasant ride, love?” he asked her.
“Yes.” Betsy regarded him closely. “Whyever are you grinning so?”
He shrugged again. “I can’t help myself,” he said with a chuckle. “Give me the words again, Betsy love.”
“The words?” she repeated in confusion.
He nodded slowly. “Tell me you love me.”
She blinked long lashes as she stared up at him. “I love you, Michael,” she said softly.
He took his courage from her words, and any apprehensions he had regarding their engagement flew from his mind. He reached out and grasped her hands in his.
“Sweetheart,” he began. “Will you marry me?”
He found the surprise evident on her face delightful, her violet eyes were opened wide, her lovely mouth agape.
“What?” she breathed.
“Marry me, Betsy.” He smiled, cupping her cheek with his hand. “I wish for you to become my wife.”
“But, Michael,” she began. “You never said a word of marriage.”
“I love you,” he rushed out.
She could only stare at him, her eyes huge. “What did you say?”
“I love you, Betsy,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “Say you’ll be my wife.”
She stood there in silence, her face a picture of swirling emotion.
“Don’t leave me floundering, love,” he said. “Give me your answer.”
She smiled brightly up at him, putting his worries to rest.
“Yes!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
He let out a whoop and hugged her tightly, twirling around in a circle. He came to a stop and set her back on her feet, smiling his joy. His eyes suddenly darkened as he lost his grin.
“Ah, Betsy,” he said, bringing his face to hers. “Sweetheart.”
Betsy sighed as his lips touched hers. Their kiss was sweet and tender. When at last he lifted his head, he found her brow wrinkled with worry.
“You don’t regret your answer?” he asked.
Betsy laughed sweetly, setting his concerns aside. �
�Oh, no. I’ve wanted to marry you for so very long.”
He let out a breath he had not been aware he was holding.
“Then what’s troubling you, sweetheart?”
“I was simply thinking about my parents. What on earth will I tell them?”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“I’ve spoken to your father, love.” He brushed a kiss on her skin. “He’s already gifted me with your lovely hand.”
“Truly?”
“How could he deny me?” He couldn’t keep a smile from his face. “Once I told him the truth, he knew our match was inevitable.”
Her mouth fell open in apparent shock. “Surely you haven’t told him of our…trysts.”
“No, love,” he assured her. “I would never shame you in such a manner.”
“Then, what did you say to him?”
“I told him that I love you.”
Her eyes sparkled up at him. “You love me.”
He stroked his hand over her hair, his eyes dark. “How could I not?”
“Oh, Michael!” she cried, hugging him once more.
He laughed and returned her embrace.
“It’s nearly tea time, love,” he said at last. “No doubt your father will wish to announce our betrothal this afternoon.”
She nodded and the two of them returned to the house to ready for tea, their hands clasped tightly together.
Chapter 12
Betsy stood poised in the hall outside of the parlor. She brushed her hands over the skirt of her violet tea gown and nervously gazed into the room. Her mother sat on a settee, a look of bemusement fixed upon her face. Her father stood beside her, wearing a big grin for his second daughter. Betsy returned his smile, feeling her tension begin to lessen.
Her eyes fell on her sister. Maggie was fairly shaking with excitement as Philip stood smiling beside her. All in all, they appeared as a happy group within.
“Do come in, daughter,” Lord Bridgewater instructed.
Betsy smiled at her father once more and began to step into the room. A pair of strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, causing her to jump.
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