by Sophia Nash
He had finally coaxed the very faint beginnings of a smile to her face.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Rory, and it isn’t going to change my mind no matter what you say or do.”
He rubbed his palms together and strode to the table, inching around the glass top toward her.
She inched to keep the table between them. Her smile disappeared. “Please.”
He immediately stopped. “All right. Let’s try your way.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Shall we sit across from each other?” He indicated the Aubusson carpet in front of her elegant marble fire grate.
She nodded and crossed to the place with him. Each sank down, Verity gripping her knees tightly to her chest, Rory more casually sprawled in every direction after he tugged off his boots and wiggled his toes.
“Go on then. I won’t say a word,” he promised.
She extracted a rumpled sheet of paper from her gown’s pocket, her signature bold handwriting covering every inch on both sides. Lord, this was going to take forever, and all he wanted was to take her in his arms.
He waited patiently.
“There are several important things I must do before I go away.”
He straightened. He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it. He had promised to listen. And he would listen even if she began to sing an epic opera where a female heroine died in the end.
She smiled when she realized he would not say a word. “Thank you. But first I will explain why I am going away.” She spread the sheet again with her long, delicate fingers. “I’ve let my entire family down and have tarnished the Fitzroy name. Worse, I’ve caused someone I love to be in terrible peril.”
Lord, he hoped that last part was about him and not someone else.
“I’ve—I’ve, no, I think I’ll skip the next part.”
Oh, thank God. The full letter was going to take forever to read.
“I revealed that I possess no moral fiber when I asked you to make lo— Well, this is too long anyway, let me be brief . . .”
There was a God. He resisted the urge to hum to distract himself from pondering if her breasts were as beautiful as he remembered. One might be able to take the gentleman out of the primate, but one could never extract the primate out of a gentleman.
“Yes, here it is.” She pushed aside that adorable lock of hair that always tumbled into her face. “I’ve single-handedly pushed the entire country to the brink of anarchy and revolution.” She glanced up from the paper. “Are you listening to me?”
“May I answer?”
“Of course.”
“Just checking,” he said. “Yes, I’m listening very carefully.”
“Then why are you staring at my—my bodice?”
How he managed to keep a smile from his lips, he would never know. “It’s a lovely bodice.”
“Keep you eyes right here, please.” She made a V with two fingers and pointed them at her own eyes.
He stayed silent but his eyes did not obey his mind and traveled to her exposed trim ankles.
“Pardon me,” she said crossly, “but did you hear me?”
“Is this how you treat the boys in the school? It’s a wonder they like you so much.”
“Fine,” she said. “I see how it’s going to be. I will finish now before I lose your attention completely.”
Oh sweet happiness, it was almost over.
“Hmmm . . . I’ve caused the, uh, person who does not love— Right, yes, what I mean to say is that you now stand publicly accused of not only authoring my own treasonous ramblings, but even worse, of also blackmailing the Crown for a duchy.”
She finally put down that blasted litany of hers and looked at him. Writers were always so damn wordy.
“Rory, I just need you to understand that you will be fully vindicated by the time I correct all of my unpardonable mistakes. You are the only one I can make that promise to. After I reveal myself, you will be proven not only innocent, but also you will never be vilified since your name was never in the diaries.” Her expression darkened with worry. “But my family and anyone connected to us will be forever tainted via association. Sadly, there is nothing I can do to truly fix that.”
“May I speak now?”
“Yes, of course.”
“First, I want to know why you never mentioned me in those diaries.”
She stared him in the face. “It took me until a day ago to figure that out. You never did anything stupid. You were always there to pick up the pieces.”
“Except the night I woke up in your bed.”
“Yes, but that was not your fault.”
“And whose fault was it?”
“It was the Duke of Kress who provided the absinthe.”
“Did he force the bottle to my lips?”
“No, but—”
“Verity, don’t you realize what you’re doing?”
“I’m listening,” she murmured.
“The French call this type of discussion ‘pondering the sex of angels’ or ‘considering the fragility of pipes.’ ”
“The first description is far more interesting.”
He smiled. “I know. But the point is that dissecting blame, regretting the past, and endless contemplation that will not change anything is absolutely useless.” He picked up her hand, and she allowed it. He turned it and pressed a gentle kiss on her palm.
She shook her head. “Well, this is no fun. You promised this would be more satisfying than the last time we didn’t argue.”
“Well, at least we learned silence is not the answer.”
“Agreed,” she replied softly. “So to continue, before I go to the Prince Regent and—”
“Verity?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve patiently listened to you, but now I think it’s my turn.”
She smiled. “Almost every duke I know insists dukes don’t have to take turns.”
“Sounds like Kress and Helston to me.”
“Precisely.” Her expression willed him to continue.
“I could utter a dozen hideously romantic words to you, or patiently explain everything I will do to make all your worries disappear.” He slowly pulled her into his arms, and she did not resist. He settled her in the cradle of his lap. “But what I really want to do is hold you, comfort you, do a few wildly wicked things with you, and then afterward I will promise you a few things that will ease your heart and your mind. Will you allow me to do all this?”
“But you cannot fix this.”
“I can and I will.”
She looked at him, trust coloring every inch of her expression. Never had anyone ever looked at him like that.
Verity finally replied, “Do I get to do a few wicked things to you, too?”
“I’m counting on it.” He traced a finger along her collarbone, and when he encountered the edge of her gown his fingers reversed course to the back of her gown to undo the small buttons. Her corset was a simple affair, and beyond the translucent shift lay what he had dreamed of forever.
She inhaled sharply when his hand touched her skin. He felt her inexperienced fingers attempt to unknot his neckcloth when he dipped down to kiss her. He brushed away her fingers in uncharacteristic impatience and nearly tore off his bloody neckcloth, soon followed by his coat and shirt.
And then Rory gathered her in his arms once again and nimbly regained his feet to carry her to her bed. She refused to let go of his neck when he placed her in the center of the heavily monogrammed white linens covering an eider-down duvet.
Rory dragged his knees across the covers to fully join her, nearly ripping his breeches in the process of removing the rest of his garments.
He couldn’t wait another moment. He had to have her in his arms. Skin-to-skin, breathing together the same air, and gazing into each other’s eyes as if there was no one else in this world.
And finally he was covering her, but he was struck stock-still when a truth hit him: she was someone he had been missing
his entire life.
Her hands stroked his back and caressed his derriere until he thought he would go mad. No lady’s touch had ever affected him like this.
He could not hold himself in check to take the time necessary to bring her slowly to the peak of pleasure and then methodically push her over the edge to fly in relentless waves of a release.
“Are you ready?” He could barely breathe; the need to have her was too great.
Her legs parted beneath his and he shifted so she could bend and raise her knees. He gripped one of her thighs and moved it higher still.
Heavy with a primal desire to possess her, he flexed his hips, now cradled between her thighs. When the tip of his sex touched hers, a sensation seared his mind with white hot intensity.
“Why is it like this?” He bit out the words as his body took over his mind. He pushed himself into the depths of her being, each time driving her higher on the bed.
Her hands were still caressing his flesh, and she had found the sensitive dimples at the base of his back. When he looked down at her face, he found a woman flushed with passion. She was already on the brink of ecstasy.
He eased his upper body weight onto her breasts and cupped her bottom with his hands.
Tilting her a fraction of an inch higher, he drove into her in one long thrust, filling her fully. Her breath caught and then she turned her head and shouted into the pillow.
And then shouted again.
He covered her lips with his own and flexed his hips again. Slowly.
She was lost in a whirlpool of pleasure; her muffled cries echoed in his ears, driving him to near madness.
She could not seem to stop, and he would not let her. While he had thought he would explode as soon as he entered her, the opposite happened.
Each time he reached the end of the tightrope to release, he had only to look at the passion in her face, and that sight brought him back under control—to a level of intimacy that left him perpetually hanging on the precipice.
Verity suddenly clenched him closer to her, and all chance of halting the unraveling of his desire was gone.
He could not move.
He did not want to leave her.
And so he released his seed into Verity’s body, choosing a true future for the first time in his life.
Verity was lost in a stark wild world of vivid sensations and overwhelming emotions coursing through her veins. But each time she felt herself getting lost in the tangle of sensibilities, she refocused on his green unblinking eyes.
When Rory shifted above her and gripped her with his powerful hands, she’d lost all sense of time and space. A sensation, not to be denied, gathered force and her flesh suddenly constricted.
His breathing became harsh, his rhythm uneven as he swelled inside her. Every muscle in his body hardened and he shook from the effort to possess her.
And for one thrilling moment she felt truly desired. He had become a wild animal; out of control instead of the practiced seducer.
When he shouted her name, and stilled inside of her, her heart sang with joy. She knew what it meant.
Immediately.
He might have gotten her with child.
She should have been worried but could not suppress the sheer joy flooding her spirit.
It was odd how when one faced a mountain of impossible mistakes of irreversible consequences, all of it could fade away for a few moments by just the idea of the smallest possibility of nurturing the child of the man she loved. It brought her a joy she had never imagined.
Oh, but it would not happen.
While Rory had suggested he could save her, deep inside, she had not a prayer of a chance.
When his breathing evened, he carefully rearranged her in his arms as if she were made of fine porcelain.
He gently kissed her. “You yell,” he murmured, his voice like hot whiskey on a cold night.
“So do you,” she whispered back.
“I do not.”
“You do. You yelled like a girl.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “This is what you meant when you said we’d fight with the gloves off, right?”
He gazed at her with reverence she didn’t deserve. “Not exactly. This is when I admit that I’m not sure I’m done having my wicked way with you,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her again. He stayed there to nibble her lips. “I’m too heavy,” he finally suggested.
She steadied his hips. “No, you’re not. I like you here.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual.”
Verity could not get her fill of gazing at him. It felt like she was part of a living, breathing dream.
Until he spoke.
“I’m going to withdraw from you now.” He disengaged himself, fell on his back and drew her with him, into his arms, her head resting on his hard shoulder.
“Verity,” he said, gazing at the ceiling as she studied his even profile. “Listen to me. I am your betrothed, whether you think it temporary or not. For me it is real and true.”
She opened her mouth to interrupt but then closed it again.
“Look, you told me once we were great friends. And I told you that was even more important than love. Do you remember?”
She nodded mutely.
“All right, then. As your friend, I am asking you to trust the truth of what I say.” He paused. “You are a good person.”
She bit her lower lip.
“And as your friend, I am going to help you make this right.”
“I’m not asking you—”
“You’re right, you’re not. This is my own decision.”
“But—”
“No, it’s still my turn,” he said.
“Your turn has been infernally long.”
“Well, according to you, you should be grateful that I even agree to allow turns.”
“True, but—”
He brought a finger to her lips. And she stilled.
“It’s very simple, I—” His voice gave out.
He tried again, but again nothing came out.
She held her breath.
“Verity . . . I need you.”
She exhaled, and murmured softly, “You don’t need anybo—”
He finally turned his head to look at her. “You are not listening, my love.”
She gazed at him mutely.
“Good. Now then. It’s like this.” He muttered an oath. “The thing is, I don’t want you.”
It was like getting the wind knocked out of her when she had once fallen awkwardly from a horse. She simply could not breathe.
“No,” he continued, “hear me out,” he insisted, passion rising in his voice. “Verity, I’m not a man who has ever needed anyone. I might have wanted women in the past, but I never needed one. Do you understand the difference?”
She refused to allow the hot prick of tears to take hold.
“I need you,” he repeated. “You are part of me now and I am part of you.”
Chapter 16
A silence had taken hold after his simple, yet powerful words that made her heart sing despite the darkness that lay ahead. She had stopped the words by kissing him without pause.
His breathing had evened and she knew he finally slept. She would not follow him to sweet oblivion. She wanted to make a careful impression in her mind of every detail of these moments.
For the first time in over a decade, or maybe ever in her life, she felt lucky. Blessed, even.
She pondered what he had told her. The poor, deluded, wildly wonderful man of her dreams thought he knew her. He seemed to have overlooked the massive streak of stubbornness that ran in her blue-blooded veins. Only her brother bested her in the universal Fitzroy trait.
And because she was willful to the core, and knew he might very well attempt to sacrifice himself to save her, she had to beat him to it. But first she had to try to protect her family’s name if she could, and she also wanted to ensure Amelia’s safety if Sussex had not managed it.
Yes, sleep would have to
come later. Much later.
He had tried to pamper her with words that were half truth and half fiction. He could not fix the problems she had made, and he did not have the power he suggested. Prinny listened to no one, especially members of the royal entourage at this particular moment.
Someone was going to have to go up in flames to end this grand disaster. And Verity was certain that full and complete honesty was the only answer.
Rory woke with a start and a feeling that something vastly important was missing.
He turned his head abruptly only to find her gone. Since when had he stopped sleeping like the cat that he was—one eye open all night?
He went still and listened. Only the wind rushing through a tree’s creaking branches beyond the open window made a sound. He glanced toward her door and gaped.
It was open.
He was starkers and she had left the door open?
What was she thinking? Had she not enough worries on her dish to add yet another round of whispers among the servants of Boxwood this time?
Something on the Aubusson carpet near the fire grate caught the edge of his vision.
A note. He squinted. Lord, he was going to have to get spectacles soon.
And then he remembered. Verity’s list of sins.
He grabbed his breeches, which had fallen to the floor, and tugged them on. Next, he pulled his shirt over his head, and hastily fashioned some sort of knot after winding his neckcloth into position. He gathered his stockings and boots in one hand, snatched the note from the floor, and stopped at the door.
He peeked out like a regular thief in the night, instead of with the practiced moves of a seasoned spy. Looking both ways, he quickly sprinted down the hall to the east corridor, past the spot where the cheeky maid had accepted his kiss. He continued through the south’s narrow passage filled with all sorts of odd artifacts, such as a gigantic foot in marble beside what appeared to be African tribal headdresses on the walls.
So this is where his beloved gathered inspiration for her bonnets.
He stumbled over a bronze serpent and fell into a gloomy chamber he remembered from his youth as being the Oak Room.
Picking himself up, he hopped on one foot as he rolled his stocking onto the other foot and calf and then switched to accomplish the same on the other side. He was finally wiggling into his second boot when he heard the scratch of match to flint.