She couldn’t help the involuntary spurt of laughter he surprised from her. “At my height?”
He smiled, and the sun rose in his eyes. “You will be admired as graceful and lovely. We’ll say you came into an inheritance from—an eccentric uncle. That would explain to the world why your family is not wealthy, but you can attract a duke.” His words picked up as he warmed to his story. “We’ll introduce you as a recluse. I met you when you came to care for your sister’s children.”
“They think the boys are yours. Everyone in society thinks it.”
“I don’t care. I denied them, and anyone who chooses to believe otherwise is no concern of mine. My sweet, I’ve thought about this. I talked to my man of business in York and he said we could accomplish it.” He glanced away, then gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for not consulting you, but we need to get matters in train.”
“You were so sure I would accept?”
He shook his head. “I was not sure at all. I’m still not sure. I don’t take anything for granted, least of all you, my prickly governess. I want you to have more than you arrived with. If you rejected me, you would have somewhere to take the twins. They would share in your good fortune.” He pressed her hands. “Don’t say no, please. Think of nothing except this—I’m just a man, kneeling before you, begging you to accept me. Just me, Ruth. We can work out the rest.”
Her mind was racing. She could no longer deny his sincerity. Would this work? Would the strain of marrying below his station destroy what they shared? She was no dairymaid, or a fallen woman. Only they knew what she had done that night. Her incredulity strained at the seams, and she desperately tried to find reasons why they should not marry, why this was too good to be true. Looking at the man before her, she recognised the right of what he was saying. She loved him as she would love nobody else and nothing else mattered as much.
“Yes,” she said.
The lines of tension on his face relaxed and his eyes widened, until the grey was almost swallowed by the black. “You will?”
She had never seen him so unsure. She nodded vigorously. “I will.”
“Oh, my love!” Getting up, he swept her into his arms, kissing her with an abandon she never thought to experience again. Or to accept. He bore her back on the cool, satin bedcover, and she laughed as her abundant skirts tangled around her legs. Her hooped petticoat was compressed so much she feared the cane would crack. Not that she cared.
He lifted away enough to allow the hoops to spring back. “Let’s get rid of these, hmm?”
He helped her to her feet, and she started on the hooks of her gown, where they fastened together at the front. A line of ribbon bows concealed the join, but they did not need undoing.
When he put his hand over hers, she stilled and gazed up at him. Sheer joy delineated his features, but small creases either side of his mouth indicated something else. “I can wait,” he said. “Now I can wait for you.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks. We’ll have the banns called this weekend. Tomorrow I’ll talk to the ladies and explain the situation. If they object, I’ll call on my lawyer to explain, and any number of others. It’s true, sweetheart, I’m not bound to Lady Nerine. If I refuse the marriage contract, which I fully intend, they can do nothing. I’ll offer to return the land to them, if they wish it, for compensation. Nothing will keep us apart. Nothing.” For a second, something else crossed his eyes. Concern put a frown between his brows, but then his face cleared. “We have precedents for our actions. You cured me, my sweet, and I want to spend the rest of my life thanking you for it.”
Surely that was going too far. She was too happy to dispute the point with him. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave her tonight. She believed him, and when she thought about it, she saw the truth in what he’d said. A new law had gone through Parliament recently. Marriage could only occur between people over sixteen years of age, and they must both consent to the match.
It was true. Her reason was catching up with her, but nothing could overtake the joy surging through her system like effervescent wine. “Then we don’t need to wait. I want to celebrate our…” She still had a problem saying it out loud.
He did not. He caught her hands. “Our love. I’m so glad you said that. Then let me help you.” He pulled her fichu free from her bodice. “I will take you to London to buy gowns suitable for a duchess.”
“I’ll look foolish. I’m not made for such things.” The fine clothes she had worn for local assemblies at home had not become her in the least.
“D’Argento may help. Say what you will, the man has a good eye for fashion. You will be graceful, elegant, beautiful.”
She smiled, for only a man in love could describe her thus. No false modesty this, merely the truth. She let him have his way, and she would need some clothes in order to be worthy of the position he wished to elevate her to. She’d need to appear at court at least once. She pushed the thought from her mind. Not here, not now. Any uneasiness would come later, and she would cope with it as it occurred.
He made himself busy helping her unfasten the hooks on her bodice until she brushed his hands away. “I could do it faster myself.”
“I doubt that,” he growled, but he let her get on with the task while he stripped. He made short work of undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, pulling them free with little regard to the fine fabric, and then treated the fall of his breeches in the same cavalier fashion. His underwear, stockings and shoes went in a similar manner, and then he dragged his shirt over his head so he stood before her unashamedly naked.
His cock reared up, the tip grazing his stomach, the bulbous tip gleaming rosily, ready for her.
Her mouth went dry, but she did not stop stripping herself, throwing her gown on the bed, then unfastening the drawstrings at her waist so petticoats and hoops soon joined his clothes. Bending, he undid the buckles on her shoes and her garters, his fingers clumsy on the knots. She worked on the front hooks of her stays, and shrugged them off her shoulders, and then she could follow his example. She dragged her shift over her head so she was as naked as he.
They stood, facing each other. He swallowed. “You are lovely.” Reaching out, he touched her waist, gliding the tips of his fingers up to stroke a line under her breasts. “Everything I want, all I need. Only you.”
The words sounded like a promise, even though defiance laced his tones. Defiance against the world that would condemn them, or force them apart, she guessed. She knew how he felt. She would have only him. His powerful body was just for her, his love for her alone. They would have children, in the fullness of time. Perhaps sooner than they planned, if their actions tonight or that time before had a result.
When he opened his arms, she stepped into them without hesitation. They closed around her, sweetly as feathers, strong as bars on a cage, but a cage she would willingly live inside for the rest of her life. “A man and a woman,” he murmured into her ear. “That is all that is in this room tonight. Come, love. Let me show you.”
Bending, he lifted her, and after pulling the bedcovers back, laid her on the crisp, smooth linen sheets. She was right, the bed felt like clouds under her body. He came over her, nudging her legs apart so he could kneel between them, and then kissed her.
When her nipples brushed the firm muscles of his chest, she flinched, but with excess of feeling. More would come. After the first, beautifully passionate kiss, he murmured against her lips, “No pain tonight. Nothing but love.”
Even if he had not made his offer, Ruth doubted she could have found the strength to push him away. She wanted him so badly, she could taste it in her mouth, bitter before, sweet now. He kissed her again, then touched his lips to her ear, her throat, working down as she stroked his short, silky hair, ran her fingers through it, cupping his strong, proud head, and spreading her hands over the breadth of his shoulders. So much wider than anything sh
e imagined. Somehow his clothes made him appear less powerful, but perhaps, with the fashion for graceful elegance, the best tailors could accomplish that. She rejoiced that so much sheer power was hers, and he was putting all of it to use pleasing her.
He nuzzled her breasts, dropped tiny kisses around her nipples and then took one into his mouth, drawing deeply, then releasing it. She gasped, unafraid to reveal her feelings. Every part of her was attuned to him and his caresses, every sigh, every teasing nip, followed by soothing strokes of his tongue. He was not silent, either, but murmured endearments as he worshipped her body. “So smooth, so lovely. Your skin undoes me. Every time I touch you I want you more, need you more.” He stroked her flanks, down her thighs to her knees and back again, much as he might gentle a high-strung steed. Every touch increased the bank of sensation building in her, but she knew more now, knew where this was leading.
He reached the heart of her femininity and flicked his tongue across her clitoris. “Better than the rarest fruit. I crave your taste. Ruth, Ruth, Ruth.” He said her name as if in wonder, increasing in fervour. It crossed her mind they were neither of them making any effort to remain silent, but she could not care for it. If anyone heard them, what of that?
When he settled in to lap her juices, she tugged his hair, squirming when the shots of arousal grew too much to bear. She pleaded with him. “Love me now. Marcus, come to me. I need you.”
“And I you.” At her entreaty he came back to her, but before he brought his cock to her he slid a finger inside her, curling it to stroke her inner walls. With a whimper, she moved against him, but she no longer knew if she wanted to get away or wanted more. He added another finger, and opened them a little. “I promised no pain,” he said. “Is that good? Does it feel right?”
“More than right.” Warmth grew to heat, so close to her peak she didn’t know how she could bear it.
After withdrawing his fingers, he brought his shaft to her entrance. He still needed to push to get that fat tip inside her, even though she widened her legs and brought up her heels and flattened her feet on the mattress. He watched her, smiling. “Your eyes are lovely, sweetheart. They tell me everything I need to know. Talk to me.” Sweat broke out on his brow and he gritted his teeth as he forced himself to slow down. “You’re tight around me.”
“I feel it.” Her breath shortened once more, but for an entirely different reason. “Marcus, oh my love, don’t stop. Take me, make me yours.”
“You are already mine. You said so and you shall not take that back.” Covering her lips with his own, he thrust his tongue into her mouth as he entered her, completing her. The hair that covered their private parts meshed together, his darker than hers. She had noted the sight earlier, and when they came together before, so even though she could not see it the vision rose to her mind, beautifully completing their union, binding them together.
He took her finally and she gave herself to him. Arching her back, pressing her hips against the mattress, she met his thrusts, opening her body for his possession. He held her close, their bodies pressing together from head to toe, and kissed her as his movements grew in intensity. As his way grew easier, he drove harder, the sound of their joining, the slap of skin on skin adding to her arousal.
Every part of her was engrossed by him, and every sense she possessed was completely bound up in him. She screamed, and he swallowed her cry as everything became one. Colours pulsed behind her eyelids, explosions detonated through her as she lost all sense of time and being.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he gave one sharp cry. His cock throbbed, and the wetness between them increased as his seed spurted deep inside her.
Ruth tightened her hold, unwilling to let him go.
He let his head drop to the pillow beside her and panted out his release, a low groan reverberating in her ears. After a moment’s hard breathing, he lifted his upper body away from hers, so they could both breathe. “You will be the death of me,” he said, “but never would my end be more welcome. If there was a way for us to marry tomorrow, I would take it.” His breath heated her ear.
At last she could speak. With the remnants of her shattering orgasm thrumming through her, she told him she loved him. “I can’t stop myself. When I see you, right from the first, I wanted you, even though I couldn’t put words to my longing.” She stroked his back, her fingers trailing down his spine, revelling in her freedom to do so.
“For me too,” he said. He lifted his head. He was smiling. “When I saw you, I yearned for you. I knew I could not let you leave. Even when I thought you a spy, before I knew who you truly were, I wanted you.” He caressed her with his gaze, drinking her in. “Do you believe people can fall in love at first sight?”
She shook her head. When a stray hairpin stuck into her scalp, she moved to free it. “Perhaps they can get an intimation of what is to come, or the potential. No, not love. Lust, some kind of sympathy, for sure, but love must grow.”
“I disagree.” Smiling, he touched her forehead. “I give you this now. Nobody but I will be able to see into you, to read what is in your mind. I will only do so when you trust me enough to allow it.” Warmth from his touch spread through her mind and her body.
Laughing, she shook off his hand. “As if such things are possible!”
His smile faded, and he met her gaze. “If only.” He opened his mouth, then closed it once more, lowering his eyes. “One day, I may tell you more on that score.” His eyes met hers once more. “Not tonight. We’ve said enough, done enough.”
She shifted slightly, reminding them both they were still locked together intimately. “Done enough?”
“Yes indeed. We celebrated our love, and we shall do so again. Be still, sweetheart, rest. I will wait until you sleep, then go to my room. Nobody will know what we did here tonight. In the morning, I’ll talk to the sisters. Later, I will visit the vicar. Should you like to accompany me?”
She swallowed. Perhaps she should, but events were racing up on her. She wanted breathing space, time to sit and think.
He kissed her forehead. “On second thought, I’ll do it on my own. The vicar might not understand. He is a man of limited understanding, taking everything from his books of sermons. I’ll bear his strictures and lectures for both of us. You stay, and if he wishes to see you I’ll bring you to him later.”
Yes. She knew the vicar too. Every Sunday either she or Andrea went down to the village to attend the service, and he was right. The vicar could drone on for hours about nothing. “Don’t you need me to make the arrangements to have the banns called?”
“No. I would normally arrange for a special licence to dispense with banns, but that would take more time.” He took her hand and kissed it, each knuckle, before withdrawing from her body as gently as possible. She missed him immediately and would have drawn him back, but he pulled her into his arms. “Then you shall have it. It will give you time to get some clothes made.”
“I own enough, thanks to you.”
“No you don’t. We can go into York next week. I’ll find a chaperone for you, and we’ll behave like any staid affianced couple.”
She laughed, stroking down his body. “Isn’t that too late?”
“Not for respectability. From tonight onward I’ll keep my distance.”
Disappointment made her heart sink. “You won’t come back to bed?”
He grinned. “That’s different. By day I’ll be as staid as any priest.” His face grew serious. “I did not realise your reputation would be put at stake once your status was revealed as guest rather than servant.” He grimaced. “Sometimes I think society makes up rules to please itself. None of it stops this happening. Thank God.”
“Spoken like a man used to privilege.” She trailed her finger down his chest, tracing the perfectly delineated muscles.
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “You make me very happy, sweetheart. Never allo
w anyone to tell you otherwise.” He paused, examining her fingers closely, as if he could see something special there. “There is more to tell you, but not now. One hurdle at a time, hmm?”
“If you say so.” What more was there to do? Only a life to live, a shared one, learning about each other and making each other happy. She had fallen in love with a man, not a duke, and if it made him happy for her to learn to be a duchess, she would do so. She’d faced worse. Only one stone remained in her shoe, as far as she could tell. People would gossip, and gossip could cost a lot. Leaning up, she rolled over him, as he had done to her.
“That,” he said, gazing down at her breasts, “is dangerous.”
“I wanted to feel you.”
“Already?” His cock was rising, gaining strength as it reared between her legs.
Ruth laughed, more carefree than for years. Forever, if she paused to think about it. “I’m not sure.” The freedom to speak as she wished was going to her head.
He pressed the back of her head, urging her to rest it on his shoulder. She was only too glad to do so. With their legs twined together, and his breath raising and lowering her rhythmically like a sea swell, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Never had Ruth woken up with such a sense of wellbeing. She vaguely remembered her lover—for such he was for now—rising when the night was still upon them and dressing swiftly. She recalled the rustle of fabric when he picked up his coat and slung it around his shoulders. He held his shoes, his stockings stuffed inside them, and stared down at her, that smile on his face she had not seen until recently.
When she blinked awake, he bent and kissed her, very gently. “Go back to sleep. I must leave now or the maids will discover me creeping along the corridor.”
When she returned his kiss warmly, he groaned. “I will see you tomorrow, my lovely one.”
War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 Page 19