by Olivia Drake
A groan rumbled from deep in his chest. He broke the contact of their lips to bury his face in her hair. She felt the touch of his tongue on the side of her neck as he began to drive inside her, moving in and out, in and out, creating a maddening friction that fed the gathering storm inside her.
Kissing and caressing, they rocked together in an ever more frantic rhythm. Her blood felt fevered, her heart beating with the same swift tempo as his. She tilted her head back against the pillows, arching up to meet his thrusts, her entire being focused on the place where their bodies were joined. His lunges became swifter, more frantic, and she felt on the verge of a precipice. Just as the tumult of their coupling became unbearable, the tempest within her broke, showering her with rapture.
Even before the bliss began to fade, Lucas gave one mighty thrust and then stiffened, groaning out her name in the throes of his own release. He melted on top of her while their breathing slowed and their pulses eased.
In the aftermath, Rory drifted in sleepy contentment. Her arms around him, she treasured the weight of his large body. The sound of the rain pattering against the windows underscored her happiness. If not for the storm, she wouldn’t be nestled here in the warm cocoon of his arms.
So this was the joy of lovemaking, she thought hazily. This state of being in complete harmony with the man she loved. How was she ever going to live without him?
* * *
He didn’t know how he would ever live without her.
As Lucas returned slowly to his senses, cold reality intruded on his lethargic contentment. He pushed the thought away. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face his duty. He was accustomed to taking charge, to solving problems, to making decisions. But this once, he would banish the outside world and savor the moment.
Soft and sated, Rory lay beneath him in all her naked glory. Inky strands of her hair spread across the pillows and clung to his sweat-dampened body. Her eyes were closed, her lips rosy from his kisses. His chest seized into an aching knot. He was the only one to have ever been inside her. It shouldn’t matter, and yet it did. She was every man’s dream of the perfect woman, beautiful, seductive, wanton.
And she loved him.
The fierce pleasure of hearing her say those words resonated in him. He felt shaken, as well. He hoped to God that she had been merely carried away by the moment, fancying herself in love in order to justify their lust. He himself had meant every word of his own declaration, yet the thought of subjecting her to heartache, too, caused a twist of pain in him.
Fearing to crush her, Lucas shifted position to lie on his side facing her. Rory made a mewling sound of protest and opened her lovely dark eyes. They were large and luminous, especially when she smiled, as she did now.
Lifting her hand to his face, she traced the outline of his lips. “So you’re real,” she murmured. “I was afraid this might all be just a marvelous dream.”
He caught her finger and nipped lightly at it. “Then we’re in it together.”
“What did you mean when you said you’d dreamed of this for so long?”
He tenderly brushed back a lock of hair from her cheek. “Darling, I’ve loved you ever since the moment I first saw you, riding in Hyde Park. You were laughing, your eyes sparkling, the center of attention in a group of gentlemen. I was as besotted as them—perhaps even more so.”
Her eyes widened. She pushed up against the pillows, propping herself on her elbow, her hair playing peek-a-boo with her bare breasts. “But … that was eight years ago.”
He dragged his gaze from the allure of her bosom. A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Indeed.”
“I never imagined! You always glowered at me. And the one time you asked me to dance, you scarcely said a word—even though I tried to converse on everything from the weather to the crush of people in the ballroom.”
He remembered her attempts to break him out of his shell. But he had been so keen on propriety that he hadn’t allowed himself to pursue a girl who was so lively and vibrant. “I’m not an eloquent man.”
“You seem to be doing quite well tonight.” A wistful expression softened her face. “‘Beautiful inside and out.’ Did you really mean that?”
“Absolutely.”
She still looked doubtful … perhaps because of all she’d been through, tricked by Stefano, banished for eight years, treated as a pariah by her own family. Yet her remarkable spirit had remained unbroken.
“But I’m twenty-six and an old maid.”
“I’m thirty-two. Does that make me ancient?”
“Men are considered distinguished as they grow older. But an unmarried woman is a spinster by one-and-twenty.”
At the mention of marriage, their gazes met and held. The vulnerability in her eyes pierced Lucas in the chest. The future must not intrude for this one night. So he strove to distract her. “If you intend to write an essay on the matter, I believe you should change your nom de plume.”
“Why do you dislike the name Miss Cellany?” she said in a huff.
“It’s too tame. I much prefer Miss Behaving.”
When she giggled at his jest, he tickled her belly for good measure. She squealed and squirmed, trying to get him back, and the conversation devolved into a gratifying tussle in the sheets for several minutes of breathless fun. He felt happier than he’d ever been in his life, especially when their shared teasing turned to carnal caresses.
Stroking the satiny skin of her bottom, he sealed their mouths with a warm kiss. Rory opened her lips on a sweet sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tasted of heat and hedonism. Her breasts and hips writhed against him as if she could not get close enough to suit her. As he fondled her slim body, desire kindled in him again. It was too soon. She had already drained him dry. Nevertheless, he throbbed in a hot-blooded response.
As the rain diminished outside, he made love to her more slowly this time, honing her passions to a fever pitch. All that mattered was pleasure-seeking and fleshly indulgence. He found nothing in the least debauched about making love to the woman who owned his heart. With Rory, the act felt right and perfect. Their mutual love was a vow that bound them together.
He only wished it could be forever.
Chapter 25
It is the height of folly to believe a gentleman’s flattery.
—MISS CELLANY
A soft click lured Rory from a deep, dreamless sleep. She floated in a serene state midway between slumber and wakefulness. It was so very tempting to sink back down into heavenly oblivion. But a sensation of light tugged at her, drawing her upward into awareness.
She opened her eyes to the early morning sunshine streaming through the dormer window. Befuddled, she blinked at the low ceiling and the tiny, unfamiliar chamber. The bedclothes lay in disarray, the pillow beside hers bearing the impression of someone’s head. The linens were still warm. Then the events of the previous night came surging back in a lovely rush.
Lucas caressing her, moving inside her, taking her to paradise. They had made love twice, the second time with beautiful and heartrending leisure. The last thing she remembered was him embracing her from behind, tucking her body into his as they’d fallen asleep together.
Where was he?
His satchel was missing from atop the dresser. Only her bandbox sat there, untouched. A soft click had awakened her. That must have been him closing the door.
She sat up in a panic. Had he left the inn without her? Surely he wouldn’t have done so after the spectacular night they’d shared. Or perhaps that was why he’d gone. Maybe he’d thought it best that they not see each other again.
Naked, she sprang out of bed, her toes curling against the cold floor. The chilly air restored her senses. She was panicking for nothing. He’d likely gone downstairs to see about the hitching of the horses. They would have to leave as soon as possible if they hoped to catch Celeste and Henry.
Dear God, how had her sister’s plight slipped her mind so completely?
Feeling guilty, Rory quic
kly performed her ablutions, grateful for the pitcher of warm water on the washstand that Lucas must have fetched for her. As she ran the wet cloth between her legs, her skin felt tender and sensitive. Her scattered clothing on the floor brought a reminder of him undressing her. The tumbled linens on the bed made her yearn to lie there with him again.
But that was impossible.
A pang wrenched her heart. There was no time to linger dreamily, remembering all the ways he had loved her. They must hurry to get on the road and find Celeste before she made a terrible mistake.
Yet it seemed to take forever for Rory to dress, her hands straining behind her to fasten the buttons at the back of her gown. She brushed her tangled hair and secured it atop her head in a bun. Catching herself primping in front of the small mirror, she realized her own foolishness. She was trying to make herself beautiful for Lucas. But their one night together as husband and wife was over. They had both agreed to those terms.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she jammed the straw bonnet onto her head and tied the green ribbons beneath her chin. She grabbed the bandbox and cloak and took one last look at the rumpled bed where she’d found such joy in Lucas’s arms.
Then she stepped out and firmly closed the door. Going down the narrow staircase, she drew several deep breaths to compose herself. It wouldn’t do to appear as woebegone as she felt inside. Or to fall at his feet in a puddle of weeping. She and Lucas were both adults, and she must make an effort to behave politely and pretend nothing had happened.
He was, after all, the Marquess of Dashell. He had a duty to marry well. A woman of her ruined reputation was only suitable for a dalliance.
She faltered to a stop at the base of the stairs. Lucas stepped out of an open doorway in the passageway, looking immaculate in his customary dark clothing. His eyes were a cool steel-gray, his features set in granite. Her heart died a little to see that mask back on his face. Against all reason, she had hoped for a smile at least.
Without speaking, he motioned her forward and stepped aside to allow her to enter. She found herself in a private parlor. An array of breakfast dishes held eggs and ham, toast and jam. It appeared several guests had eaten already. Just beyond the table, a young couple sat on a bench by the window. Rory’s attention snapped to the blond girl.
Joyful shock energized her. Dropping her bandbox and cloak, she dashed across the small room. “Ce-Ce!”
Celeste jumped up, and the sisters came together in an exuberant embrace. Rory knew in that moment that she didn’t care about bloodlines. Celeste would always be her dear sister. Tears blurred her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, her heart overflowing with happy relief. When she opened them again and drew back slightly, her gaze fell upon the young gentleman who sprang to his feet.
She blinked at his fair hair, the green eyes, the freckled features. “But … you’re not Lord Henry. You’re Perry Davenport.”
He made a rather nervous bow. “Er … yes,” he said, his voice squeaking a little. “Good morning, Miss Paxton.”
Lucas strode forward to address Rory. “It seems your sister didn’t run away with my brother, after all. Only a few minutes ago, I found these two rapscallions here eating breakfast.”
Celeste slid her arm through Perry’s. “Why would I run off with someone else when I love Perry? Lord Henry was only our messenger. He was very kind in helping us make our plans.”
“You may be certain I shall have a talk with him about that,” Lucas said darkly.
Rory stared at the young couple in befuddlement. Apparently, they too had spent the night at the inn. “But … I don’t understand. The innkeeper said that no one fitting your description was here.”
“He knew nothing of a brown-haired gentleman and a blond girl,” Lucas explained. “Because, of course, Perry is sandy-haired, and Celeste was in disguise.”
“I wore a black wig,” Celeste said, pointing to the messy hairpiece lying on the bench. “It was Perry’s idea. He found it in a costume trunk in his parents’ attic. Wasn’t it ever so clever of him?”
She gazed adoringly at the young man, and he gave her a soppily loving look in return. It was clear the two were mad about each other, and the sight tugged at Rory’s heartstrings. Celeste looked so much happier than she’d been with the pompous old Duke of Whittingham.
“I trust you two secured separate chambers for the night,” Lucas said.
The couple glanced guiltily at each other. Gulping, Perry admitted, “I only had coin for one room. But nothing happened. I swear it on my life!”
“Perry slept on the floor by the hearth,” Celeste asserted. “He was the perfect gentlemen.”
Rory’s gaze flew irresistibly to Lucas. He had not been the perfect gentleman, thank goodness. He was gazing intently at her, and heat flickered ever so briefly in his eyes. It told her that he, too, was remembering their wild tryst. A bone-deep pulse of longing assailed her. At least she would have that memory to cherish forever.
His gaze grew stern again as he looked at Perry. “Eloping is hardly the act of a gentleman. However honorably you behaved last night does not change that fact.”
A blush made Perry’s freckles stand out against his pale features. But he squared his shoulders. “Yes, my lord. I am aware of that. However, I believe it would have been more ungentlemanly of me to allow Ce-Ce to consign herself to a lifetime of misery.”
His hands clasped behind his back, Lucas walked slowly back and forth in front of them. “And how do you mean to support her?”
“I’ve been studying the law at Oxford. I’ll work after hours as a clerk in a barrister’s office while I finish my schooling.”
“And I will teach drawing lessons to young ladies,” Celeste piped up. “Besides, there is my marriage portion of three thousand.”
“Which your mother has every right to refuse to release,” Lucas pointed out, “since you are underage and marrying without her consent.”
Celeste turned her stricken gaze to Rory. “Do you truly think she’ll do so?”
Rory doubted it. Kitty might threaten retribution, but she would relent eventually, for she loved Celeste to pieces, the daughter of her torrid affair with Lucas’s father. A pang resonated in Rory’s heart. Celeste and Lucas were half siblings, though the girl didn’t know it yet. And he was only doing what a good elder brother should do in making her see the ramifications of her actions.
“She was extremely distraught last night,” Rory said. “Only imagine the worry you have put her through. I very much doubt she slept a wink.”
Though Celeste’s happy expression had dimmed, she stood firm. “I’m sorry to hurt her, but there was no other way. She’d never have allowed me to break the engagement. I would have been miserable married to the duke.”
“Poverty can be miserable, too,” Lucas said bluntly. “Especially when there are little ones to feed and clothe. You’re both accustomed to luxury.”
Perry put his arm around her. “I’m content to leave all that behind so long as Ce-Ce is my wife. I will come into a small legacy when I turn twenty-one next February. It isn’t much, but it will tide us over until I become a solicitor.”
Celeste snuggled against him, gazing adoringly into his eyes. “Dearest Perry, I shan’t require fancy things so long as I have you.”
Watching them coo at each other, Rory felt a melting softness. If only she and Lucas could be so happy.
His warm fingers closed around hers. She caught her breath and looked up to see him incline his head toward the doorway. Holding her hand, he drew her out into the corridor for a private conversation.
He bent closer to her, his gaze flitting to her lips. Rory hoped for one wild moment that he meant to kiss her. A wanton need for him flourished inside her even though guests could be seen at the end of the corridor, partaking of breakfast in the common room.
But he didn’t draw her into his arms. He murmured for her ears alone, “What shall we tell them?”
His lordly mien reminded Rory that he val
ued duty above true love. “Tell them?” she whispered back. “Why, they must be allowed to marry. I forbid you to force Celeste to honor her betrothal to the duke!”
“You misunderstand me. I was inquiring about the secret of her birth. Is it wise even to mention it now, considering there is no longer any danger of brother and sister marrying?”
He was right. Everything had changed. They would have been obliged to reveal the sordid story to Celeste if she had run off with Henry.
“I don’t suppose there is any pressing need for Ce-Ce to know just yet,” Rory said slowly. “It might be best to return to London and discuss the matter with Kitty.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.”
He had not released her hand, and his thumb lightly rubbed her palm in a way that made her skin tingle and pulse leap. Their gazes clung, and his eyes were silvery hot with passion for a moment before he shuttered the look and dropped his hold on her.
He stepped back, once again the cool-faced marquess. “Perry’s carriage damaged a wheel in the storm. It shall have to remain at the inn for repair. If it is agreeable to you, I’ll drive the curricle back while you chaperone our young lovebirds on the mailcoach to London.” He consulted his pocketwatch. “Can you be ready to depart in half an hour?”
“Certainly.”
Her throat felt so taut she could barely utter that single word. So that was end of it. She wouldn’t see him again, except perhaps in passing, for she could not possibly remain in his employ.
Not when he was marrying Alice Kipling.
Though her heart was breaking, Rory tried to summon a civil smile, but it wobbled on her lips. When she started to step past Lucas, he caught her by the waist and his fingers brushed a light caress over her cheek. “I’ll call on you in London, Rory. If not later today, then tomorrow morning. I promise you that.”
Releasing her, he strode away toward the common room. She watched until his tall figure vanished out the door. What was left for him to say to her?