by Edith Layton
The shadow moved away, and he sighed. Then he felt her settle on the grass next to him, and her arms went around his neck.
“I’m naked,” he said.
“I can see that,” she said.
Instinctively, his hand moved to cover his groin, because chilled as he was, still the sound of her voice stirred him, and it showed.
“So can I,” she whispered, from very close. She giggled. “You have a big hand, my lord. But not quite big enough.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head. She lay beside him, and she wore nothing but a quavering smile. He sat straight up. He stared at her body, and started to stand up as well.
She put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising. “How else can I show you that it’s you, and not the man in the portrait, that I love?” she whispered.
When she’d come upon him, where he lay on the grass, she’d caught her breath. He was as good to look at as he’d been the day they’d made love. Only today, because she’d caught him unaware, she could look her fill. He was well made, muscular, perfect in her sight. She’d taken off her gown, and joined him.
She’d never expected him to be so withdrawn from her.
He shook his head. “We started our problems by making love that day,” he said. “What it did was to take away the element of choice. As a gentleman I had no recourse but to offer for you. As a clever woman, you heard the doubt in my voice, and left me. This time,” he said, taking her into his arms, covering their nudity with his body, “I want you to know that I offer for you because I must. Not in the eyes of Society. But in my own heart. Good God, Lisabeth, if you don’t marry me I’ll have to keep making a fool of myself, and I don’t like that. Lord! You can’t like that.” He bent his head, and whispered, “And your grandfather would hate it.”
He felt her laughter against his heart. He also felt how her soft breasts moved against his chest, and the warmth of her heated him to the point where he felt as though he had a fever.
“I didn’t really want a pirate,” she said. “They plunder and loot and kill. And highwaymen can be killed. Once I grew up I realized I wanted a man who could amuse me and challenge me, and support me. I suppose I’m still enough of a romantic to also want one who could risk all for me. You did that. And you didn’t seem a fool to me,” she said, her hand tracing the soft fuzz on his broad chest. “What you did was brave. For a man who always observes the proprieties, it was very bold indeed. And you did it for me. What more can I ask?”
“What I do for you now,” he said, with difficulty, “is let you go, so that you always know I chose you for yourself and for no reasons of propriety.”
“I know that,” she said, curling closer to him.
“Well,” he said, his eyes closed, as he kissed her neck, and breathed deeply of her scent. “We can maybe do something. Not, perhaps, everything. But enough to please you, and me, and bind us to nothing in the eyes of Society.”
“Which society?” she asked dreamily. “The birds? The fish? The trees?”
“All,” he said, turning so that she lay on the grass, and he looked down at her. “Miss Bigod, will you marry me? As soon as possible? Or will you condemn me to the life of an ass, and a lifetime of regret? I have an estate; my uncle lives there now. I have no taste for it, but I do have funds. We can build a home here, not far from Sea Mews. I like it here.”
“And we can live in London in the autumn,” she whispered. “I’d like to live there, at least for part of the year.” Her eyes searched his. “But no separate quarters. No separate beds. I don’t care to live a pocket, but I will not be set apart from your life. And if I ever find you’ve taken a mistress, I’ll kill her, and you.”
“Agreed,” he said, as he sank to her side again. “And as for you: no lovers, no midnight sailing with your male friends. And a promise to tell me whatever distresses you, now, and then, and later.”
“Good,” she said. “To start with, I wish you’d make love to me again, Constantine. And oh! May I call you ‘Con’?”
“Repeatedly, please,” he said, and kissed her until she couldn’t call him anything but “darling,” and “my heart,” and “oh, my love, yes.”
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For the Love of a Pirate
© 2006 by Edith Felber
ISBN: 9780060757861
AVON BOOKS
Ed♥n
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