“Yes, I know,” she answered simply and molded her body against his, eager for his kiss upon her lips, in fact burning for it. “I’m asking—no, hoping—you will make love to me. I pray to God that you do.”
“Be careful what you pray for, my love, you just may get it.”
“I hope that I do, my lord.”
With that, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wantonly pulled his head down until their lips met. It was a kiss filled with aching need and pent-up passion, exploding in an inferno of melting ecstasy. When his arms went around her and pulled her into him, Marlee knew she had won. “You’ve asked for this, my love, remember that,” she heard him say over the pounding of her heart. “I’m a man who can no longer resist you, sweet Marlee. Forgive me—”
“Shh, my darling. I don’t want to speak or to think any longer. I want you to make love to me—now.”
“Oh, Marlee, now is all I can give to you. Please don’t hate me for wanting you.”
“I can never hate you,” she softly assured him, and at that moment she didn’t believe she would ever feel anything for him but love.
With skillful hands, Lark undid the back of her silver gown, allowing it to fall like a pool of moonlight at Marlee’s feet. Next, he removed her hoop petticoat and then her stays. Her breasts broke free of the restraint and Lark smothered a husky groan. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful woman, and he’d seen and sampled many a lady’s charms in his time. But there was something pure yet sensual about Marlee, a quality which stirred his blood from the very first moment he saw her. He needed her, wanted her, and no matter that his mission had brought him to Arden Manor and would cause his departure, he was determined to have her. For the first time in his life, he felt absolute tenderness, a melting of his senses. In the back of his mind he knew he should admit the truth to her, that he should do the honorable thing and leave. But he’d become engaged to Bettina out of honor and experienced no happiness because of it.
Now he didn’t give a damn about honor. All he wanted was Marlee and a fleeting moment of happiness to last the rest of his years.
“You’re so beautiful,” Lark praised and cupped her breasts in the palms of his hands. Through the silky material of her chemise, he felt her nipples harden in response as his thumbs gently massaged them.
“I love when you touch me. I feel so alive—so quivery”
Her candor about her feelings amazed him. He couldn’t help but smile. “And do you always feel quivery when a man touches you?”
She didn’t realize he was teasing her. Her horrified expression lent credence to her true innocence. She stiffened imperceptibly but Lark felt her resistance. “No man but you has ever touched me. Please, I beg you not to believe the gossip.”
“I don’t,” he hastily assured her with a fiery kiss upon her lips, but it wasn’t until that moment that he truly discounted the story about her virtue. Her body relaxed against him and she placed her arms trustingly around his neck. He couldn’t wait any longer for her, his loins ached with a fierce burning he’d never before experienced. Scooping her into his embrace, he lifted her off of her feet.
Marlee giggled in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to bed, sweetheart.” Which is exactly what he did when he placed her in the center of the fluffy coverlet. He watched her for a moment. She appeared so beautiful in the candlelight, so seductive, with the transparent chemise doing little to hide her physical attributes. His tongue wanted to savor every luscious inch of her, to taste each curve and crevice of her body. He’d never hungered for a woman this much, and knew he must go slowly with her, but the fire curling through his loins caused him equal amounts of pain and pleasure.
“Are you supposed to undress, too?” she asked him with wide eyes which were softer than deep blue velvet. “I mean, is it customary for the man to undress?”
His deep laugh sent ripples of delight down her spinal column. Bending over, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Yes, my love, very customary.”
With his gaze never leaving her, Lark stripped down to his trousers. His fingers stalled on the waist cord of his pants at her gasp. “Are all of the clothes removed?”
“Yes, of course. Didn’t you know that?”
“No-o.” Shaking her head, Marlee glanced down at her thin chemise. Her hands instinctively covered herself. “Must, must I undress entirely?”
“If you’d rather not, you don’t have to, Marlee. But it would be very nice if you do.” He kissed her with a sweet longing which left her breathless. “I think you’d like it very much, and if you’re shy about it, I could assist you.”
“Would you? I’m—afraid.”
“Gladly, my love.” His fingers itched to rip away the thin silk from her body. He removed his trousers, suddenly aware of the way Marlee’s large, frightened eyes appraised his aroused manhood. There was curiosity in her gaze, too, but fearing she might withdraw from him, he quickly pulled down the cover and slid beneath it.
“Now, your turn,” he invited and was more than relieved when she rose up on her knees to face him. Gently, he touched the white lace covering her breasts. “I don’t bite, not unless you want me to.” Lark flashed her a mesmerizing smile.
Marlee nodded, but he suspected his meaning was lost on her. Long dark strands of hair fell forward and covered her bosom. “Would your undressing me give you great pleasure?” she asked.
“Very great pleasure.”
“Then undress me, my lord, and make me yours,” she whispered. “I want to belong to you.”
“Ah, Marlee, Marlee, you’re mistress of my heart.”
Tenderly, Lark pushed her chemise down until it rested at her small waist. His throat swelled, she was so beautiful, so perfectly formed. Her breasts were thrust upward, arching toward him, taunting him to take their globular fullness within his warm hands. He responded by bringing each nipple to his lips to suckle.
A wetness gathered within the very center of Marlee’s womanhood. What Arden was doing to her felt so very wonderful that it seemed wicked to enjoy it. “Am I supposed to like this?” she asked, and her hands steadied on his broad shoulders to still the trembling which rocked through her.
His dark head moved from her breasts and he glanced up. “Don’t you like this, sweet Marlee?”
“Oh, yes, very much,” she breathed into his hair.
“Then enjoy it. There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of, frightened about.”
She swallowed convulsively. “Is there more?”
“Much more. Let me show you.”
He guided her down onto the coverlet and removed the rest of the chemise. She lay there in complete surrender before him, vulnerable and so lovely that his heart contracted. His forefinger reached out and found the sensitive bud which was hidden within the lush folds of her body. Gently, he stroked the velvet nub, feeling himself become so hard and rigid that he feared he’d soon explode.
Something was happening to her. Marlee could no longer think, could barely speak. Her whole attention was fixed on the very center of her femininity where something within her was building to a fiery peak, threatening to overflow with molten heat. “What—what are you doing to me?” she asked in a low, breathy voice.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like it? Should I stop?”
He stilled his finger and she arched her body to make contact with his fingertip. “Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. I—I just don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
Her eyes were glazed with desire, and her voice was thick with passion. He knew it wouldn’t be long until she found her release. “Lie still and enjoy, my love. Close your eyes and concentrate only on my finger within you, feel the pleasure it gives to you. Go on, Marlee, close your eyes.”
Like an obedient child, she did as he commanded but was very much aware when he laid beside her to suckle one of her breasts. “I’m going to take you to paradise, my love,” he promised with a spine-tingling tug upon her nipple.
Paradise meant heaven to Marlee, she’d heard a great deal about it from the minister’s sermons each Sunday. But suddenly paradise took on a whole new meaning, and it was no longer a place within the clouds. It was here and now, a physical reality. With each silken stroke of Lark’s finger, he brought her closer and closer to it.
She began to pant, writhing and arching toward the heavenly crescendo Lark promised. She wasn’t certain what she was going to feel, but what she felt now was more wonderful, so stupefying, that no words could adequately explain the intense sensations gathering and spreading like sweet wildfire between her legs. A low moaning began in her throat. She was coming to an end that was also a dazzling beginning.
Marlee’s release shook her to the very bane of her existence. Nothing and no one could have prepared her for the throbbing sensations centered within her womanly core. Like someone coming out of a daze, she opened her eyes to find Lark smiling down at her. He rose up on his knees and straddled her, his finger gently probing her body’s crevice, opening her to him. It was then she felt his hardened manhood nudging the moist entrance between her legs and suddenly she understood what was about to happen and knew that she was created for this man to love.
She arched to meet his thrust but was unprepared for the sharp ache when her maidenhead tore. Instinctively she started to pull away, but he held her to him until the hard length of him stretched the tender walls. She moaned her pain and he kissed her. He kissed her until a flicker of pleasure darted through her and obliterated the pain.
With wondering eyes, she watched his face. He was more handsome, more manly, if that were possible, in the throes of passion. And his passion was for her.
Each taunting thrust took her to the summit. Grabbing onto his upper arms, Marlee’s fingernails dug into the sinewy muscles. Her release was a heartbeat away, an eternity of waiting. Suddenly he went still and looked at her, his face a mask of pleasure. Once more, he thrust, and her name was torn from his lips.
Liquid warmth spewed inside of her, a throbbing which caused an exquisite explosion so intense that Marlee thought she’d die from the ecstasy of it.
Later, he held her in the crook of his arm, and her head nestled against his chest. “I never thought, never knew—” she began, but words seemed somehow inadequate to describe the sensations she’d felt.
“I know, I know,” he said and kissed her until she was again clinging to him and aching for his possession. For the rest of the night, Marlee belonged to Lark body and soul. Near dawn, she drifted into a peaceful slumber.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Lark, however, didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. Guilt at what he’d done ate away at him like an acid, and he found all he could do was dully stare at the carved cherubs, naked and cavorting on the ceiling.
Marlee lay so trustingly in his arms. Every now and then she’d give a tiny sigh in her sleep, and he realized just how young and inexperienced she was. He’d taken advantage of her youth, her innocence, cruelly used her. Somehow he felt as if he’d just awakened from a torturous dream into a land of enchanted beauty. Never in his life had he felt so alive with a woman, or dared hope he’d find such happiness. But like all delusions of the mind and heart, happiness was a fleeting and gossamer thing. His short-lived happiness was about to end.
Quietly, he left the bed and dressed. He sat by the table and poured himself a large cup of port to fortify himself for what was to come. His gaze never left the sleeping young woman. Even now, after hours of unbridled lovemaking, his loins hardened at the sight of her. What was there about Marlee that set her aside from the other women he’d known? God, if only he could have felt this same sensation for Bettina, maybe the forced betrothal wouldn’t have seemed like the end of life itself for him.
He’d agreed to marry Bettina only to please his father. His father and Bettina’s father had been great friends in their youth and both had wished to unite the two families through their children. Lark would have been married to Bettina now. Fate decreed otherwise when Manuel Silva captured the auburn-haired beauty off of Lark’s ship after Lark had gone to Bermuda to bring her to Williamsburg. Lark knew he must find Silva soon and recapture Bettina—if she was still alive. He’d marry her out of a sense of honor. He owed her that much.
Lark shivered as an early morning rain gently beat upon the windowpanes. A chill settled over him, and he shivered not so much from the cold but from the thought of what awaited him in the future—his impending wedding if he found Bettina—and more imminently, Marlee’s hatred when he told her the truth.
The moment of truth came sooner than Lark expected. Marlee stirred and rolled onto her back. Her beautifully formed breasts were bare. Lark wished he could make love to her again, just once more before he left her. Turning her head, she spotted him. A timid smile curved her lips and she sat up, immediately covering herself with the sheet. “You’re up and dressed already,” she said more as a comment than a question. “I best get up and dress, too. I must look a mess.”
“You look beautiful, wonderful,” Lark hastily assured her and stifled the urge to sit beside her. He wanted to kiss her pretty mouth, to hold her and never release her. Instead, he resisted the inclination to touch her, but he impressed her delicate features upon his mind for later, when he needed to remember her.
“You look wonderful, too,” she praised and dimpled. “You are wonderful.”
He couldn’t help groaning aloud when she took his hand and brought it to her lips. Her kiss felt like golden fire upon his flesh. “I love you so much, Richard. I shall love you forever.”
“Marlee, stop!” he ground out and realized he’d startled her by the vehemence in his voice. He wasn’t angry with her but with himself—so disappointed in himself that he wished to slither away and never face the light of day again.
“Have—have I been too bold?” she asked him and there were tears shining in her eyes. Instantly she withdrew her hand and held onto the sheet.
“It’s not that, not anything-you’ve done. God, Marlee, can’t you see that I care for you? You’ve turned my life upside down.”
“Is that so bad?” A delighted grin spread across her face, expressing her happiness and awe that he cared. “That’s what I want, Richard, I’ve prayed for it—”
“Stop it, Marlee, no more, please.’’
“But I love you. I do.” She started to get up, to reach out for him again, but he purposely backed away. “What is it, Richard? What have I done?”
“Stop calling me Richard for one,” he said with such pain on his face that he noticed she immediately stiffened.
“Should I call you something else, my lord?” She sounded frosty. “I had thought that after last night you’d consider me as something more than a commoner.”
“That’s not it. You’re making this very hard for me—and I deserve things to be hard, I deserve your hatred.” Lark raked his hand through his hair. The agony in his eyes sent waves of fear spinning through Marlee, but he didn’t realize this. All he knew was that he must confess his deception to her but he was unable to look at her. Instead his gaze found one of those infernal grinning cherubs on the ceiling. His attention was on the little carved statue the whole time he spoke. “First of all, Marlee, I am the Baron of Arden Manor, but I’m not Richard Arden. I’m Lark Arden, Richard’s cousin, from Virginia. I’ve deceived you, Carpenter deceived you—”
He took a quick look her way and found her gaze was riveted on him. Never in his life had he seen another person’s eyes grow so large. Swallowing a number of times, he thought his throat had closed up, but no, his voice came out surprisingly strong.
“I arrived here the same day that Richard had an accident. He died a few days later.” He heard her audible gasp but continued, “You did marry Richard; never doubt that you’re a baroness. But, well, I desperately needed to finance a voyage. My grandfather left me a trust, money which Richard illegally squandered. I arrived here to claim my fortune and found nothing. After I g
ot over my frustration and anger, I learned about you, about your being an heiress. My only recourse was to pretend to be Richard, to woo you into signing the money away so I could take what was due me. And that’s all I’ve taken, Marlee, only the amount that Richard owed me. The rest of the money is yours, the estate and the title are yours—everything belongs to you.”
He stopped, feeling a terrible weakness assail him. Whoever had said that confession was good for the soul had been wrong. Lark felt horrible, miserable. He didn’t dare ask her forgiveness, but he’d like her to say something, anything. He’d settle for her aiming a candlestick at his head, gladly suffering the brunt of her rage.
Nearing the bed, he decided that she might be in shock, so still and quiet was she. “Marlee, are you all right?”
A trembling sigh coursed through her entire body. She looked at him but her eyes were a dull shade of blue, almost as if she didn’t see him any longer. And he suddenly realized that for Marlee, he’d ceased to exist. He waited for what seemed like hours before she finally said anything, and when she did, it was spoken so softly that he barely heard the words, “Leave me alone.”
The problem was he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to hold her again, to tell her that he loved her and would marry her. But he couldn’t do any of that because he wasn’t free to love her. “Marlee, I won’t leave you like this—”
She suddenly rose up on the bed, resembling a wild-eyed specter with the white sheet wrapped around her. “I said go away! Leave me in peace, Lark Arden, or whoever you may be. Leave me alone!”
He was forced to leave when Mrs. Mort burst through the door and cast a venomous glance his way. “My lady, what is it?” the woman cried.
More than anything, he wanted to remain with Marlee, to somehow make amends for what he’d done to her, but there was nothing he could say or do to help her. All he recalled was the chilling sound of her cries of “Get out!” as he left the house.
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