by Jane Lark
This time, there was lust as well as love, and when he broke away, hunger burned in the wide, onyx pools at the centre of his eyes. He feared she would argue; she could see it. He looked as he had at the ruins on that last day.
“Yes, I will marry you,” she whispered. “A real marriage, Robert. Not a pretend one.” No matter what happened, she could not walk away again. It felt good to make the decision.
He let go of her hands and braced her cheeks. “You mean it?”
She nodded.
“Good girl,” he answered with his rakish, charmer’s smile. Then his lips were on hers again, and her arms circled about his neck as they kissed open-mouthed. She was breathless when he pulled away.
“Come on then. We wouldn’t want to be late for our own wedding. What a to-do that would be.”
Her fingers squeezed his shoulders. She so longed for him to be the hero she needed.
“Let’s get you up before you change your mind.” He smiled and gripped her waist. In an instant, she was up on his saddle and he was lifting to sit behind her. She didn’t turn to sit astride, but put her arms about his sinuous midriff and snuggled close, her legs across his thighs.
“You are not alone any more, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Do you understand? You may stop pushing me away and holding me at a distance now.”
She pressed a kiss on his jaw. “Yes, my Lord.”
~
An hour later, Jane stood before a humble altar, watching Robert gently slide a plain gold band on the third finger of her left hand. She had left all her old jewellery behind.
They were bathed in coloured light. Her eyes lifted and caught the hint of a smile on his lips and reverence in his brown gaze. He looked as though he was wishing the years away and imagining this was the wedding they’d spoken of in their youth, their families lining each side of the church.
She’d have worn a white dress from the pages of La Belle Assemblée, and the church would have been full of roses.
But the church was bare, their appearance commonplace, and their only audience, Robert’s valet and groom. Yet it was a dream come true. She had Robert, at last, and that was all she’d ever really wanted.
Robert’s grip on her fingers pulled her closer, and his lips brushed her cheek. She smiled and met his tender gaze. The vicar snapped the book shut he’d held open. “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
She was Lady Jane Marlow. No longer a Duchess. No longer a Sutton. But Robert’s wife.
In a daze, she thanked the vicar then let Robert lead her to a table to sign the register. It was done. She stepped outside into dazzling sunlight and breathed fresh air. Robert’s fingers slipped about her waist.
He took her back to the inn where they awaited the arrival of the coach over a hurried breakfast.
She’d thought herself not hungry until it was laid out before her, then found herself ravenous, causing Robert to laugh over the size of her appetite.
He steered her straight to the coach and handed her up.
When she sat against the leather squabs, exhaustion washed over her as she listened to him give orders to the driver.
“You need not ride inside the carriage just to keep me company,” she said as he entered after her and dropped into the seat. James closed the door.
Smiling, Robert looked askance at her, set his arm about her shoulders, and drew her close. “A charming greeting for your husband, wife. You may ride outside, indeed.”
“I meant nothing by it.” She laid her cheek on to his shoulder, feeling relief and safety. Robert, her island, was now her property. “Husband. It sounds insanely silly to call you that. I only meant you needn’t feel obliged to keep me company. I’m too tired to ride, but if you wish to, I won’t take offence.”
“I will take offence soon if you’re not careful, wife.” He played with the word on his tongue, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Silly? I do not think it silly to call you wife. I refuse to let you mock it. Wife. I like it very much, and I’ve waited so many years to say it, I think the novelty will last. And I shan’t desert you after less than half an hour for a saddle. I’m very happy here. If you’re tired, set your head on my lap and sleep. I want to appreciate my acquisition.”
She laughed. He stretched out his legs and set his booted feet on the opposite cushioned seat, crossing them at the ankles. She willingly followed his suggestion and tucked her feet up on the seat with her knees bent, then used his thigh as a pillow, one hand beneath it and one on top.
Robert reached across and picked up the blankets from the far side, then slipped one beneath her head and the other he threw across her.
“Comfortable?” The carriage lurched into motion.
She nodded once, her eyelids already falling.
Robert toyed with a wisp of hair behind her ear, winding and unwinding it. She was his. Jane Marlow. God, that sounded good. Tomorrow he’d send an announcement to the papers. Let Sutton argue with that.
Jane. His wife. Lady Barrington. He liked it. He liked it so intensely he was concerned for his state of mind. Should any man be so bowled over by claiming the woman he wanted as his wife? Apart from Geoff, his friends would think him insane, and, of course, the women of his acquaintance would think him changed. He was changed. He’d be a damn recluse for Jane if it made her happy. Anything which made his wife smile would be his new obsession.
He pulled off his gloves, disturbing her sleep. Her fingers gripped his thigh, and her eyes opened with a start, the emerald glittering with urgency and fear.
He tossed his gloves to the opposite seat and stroked her temple.
“Robert?” she questioned, returning from a dream.
“Aye, the same.” He saw the concern ebb from the contours of her face. She laid her head back on the blanket.
“I thought … ” she mumbled as he continued to stroke her hair. “We really are married, aren’t we?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we really are. Wife.”
She took a deep breath, then her eyes closed, and she slipped back into sleep. Her weight increased on his leg.
“Darling girl,” he whispered.
The tenderness in his chest absorbed her image with an enduring ache. Even if she forgave him for his past failures, he’d never forgive himself.
When the coach rumbled over the cobbled yard of the Crown Inn in the market town of Stourbridge, Jane was still asleep, and as James opened the door, Robert lifted his finger to his lips, bidding his groom quiet.
So it was that he carried his new bride over the threshold and laid her upon their marriage bed, sound asleep.
He ordered a scant supper sent to their room, and a bottle of the inn’s best champagne which remained unopened while he sent for a bottle of brandy. When it came, he drank one glass of it before making the decision to take off his coat and join her on the bed.
He lay down behind her, carefully settled his hand on her waist, and curled into the shape she’d made. She didn’t wake, but stirred. After a moment, his eyes closed, too.
Chapter Eighteen
When Jane woke, Robert watched her and he saw her eyes open wider as though her mind jerked into wakefulness. He lay beside her, his head resting on his palm, as he balanced on one arm. He smiled. She smiled, too. He touched her cheek then her lips.
“We were in the carriage,” she said against his fingers.
“And you, sleepyhead, slept right through. You left me to dine alone.”
Jane propped herself up on her elbows. “It’s morning! Did I sleep a whole day and night?”
He nodded. “You slept through our wedding night.”
“You rogue.” Sitting up further, she pushed his shoulder, tipping him backward onto the bed. Then she leaned over him, her palm falling on his chest. “Why on earth did you not wake me?” Her eyes flickered with light, which implied she was more grateful than angry.
“Because it would have been mean of me, when you were obviously exhausted. I’m really not the wretch you think me, Jane.
I can be sensitive.”
For a moment, she didn’t answer, but then she said, “You’ve never been a wretch to me, Robert Marlow. I know you too well to believe your façade. Although I will admit, I was deceived at first when I saw you in London, but you’d worked hard casting your damned reputation. I’ve never thought ill of you though, even that first night you were kind to me. I’ve always seen you buried beneath the rake.”
His fingers lifted and brushed her hair from her temple. “No need to sugar the medicine, sweetheart. I was angry with you that first night. I had no cause to be. You had every reason to be angry with me for leaving you to face a marriage to Sutton. I’m sorry, Jane. I should have stayed and listened. I knew you better than to believe you were willing. I’ve hurt you over the years, I know. I’m going to make it up to you. But you may wish to know it was not your father’s fault.”
Her eyes widened, and she pulled away, sat up and knelt on the bed. “How can you know that?”
Robert lay on his back with one hand behind his head. “Edward’s father-in-law has an unfortunate habit of thinking he owns everyone. When I mentioned I intended to marry you, he had your history traced. One of the things he found out was the former Duke of Sutton put the thumbscrews on your father to gain your hand. He forced him into debt.”
She said nothing and shut her eyes. He sat up and reached for her.
She leaned back. “I cannot think of him kindly.”
“I’m sure you can't.” With his arm still raised, Robert beckoned her to come to him. “I don’t think I’d be able to either if I were you. He played his part. If he’d managed his affairs better … So many ifs and buts, Jane, yet no matter how I wish it, sweetheart, I cannot change the past.”
She came to him, her arms circling his ribs as her face pressed into his neck.
“We’re changing the future though, darling,” he said gently and kissed the crown of her head.
“I hope so.” The words were whispered to his shirt. Gripping her shoulder, he held her back a little and lifted her chin with his fingers.
“I know so.” He dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “But for now you must be hungry. Let me order breakfast.”
“What?” She leaned back laughing.
His eyebrows lifted.
“A notorious rake like you, deserting a woman in his bed? I am your wife. Perhaps it has put you off? I do profess, my pride is wounded.”
He deliberately set a wicked smile that promised retribution, leaned forward sharply, and toppled her backward.
She squealed as his hands grasped hers.
He pinned her to the bed. “I can oblige you, if you wish, wife, but I had thought only to increase your stamina first.”
Her smiling eyes met his gaze. “Pray, do tell what I need stamina for, husband?”
He kissed her, invading her mouth as a lance of sexual hunger ripped through him.
Her hips pressed upwards and her fingers wove between his.
The woman was a wonder. His emotions raged beyond desire. He felt so warm and human inside. He’d always felt coldly determined with others.
Her soft breasts pressed to his chest through their clothing.
He could easily raise her skirt and set himself inside her — he wanted to — but this was their first time as man and wife. He wished to make a memory they could keep, and it would not come from a hasty coupling.
Forcing himself to stop, he let her hands go and rolled on to his back, sighing as his forearm fell over his brow. He fought to quell the desire burning in his blood.
“What is it?” Her voice was small.
“Not like this,” he said without lifting his arm from his eyes. He felt her move and sit astride his hips. Then her hands rested on his chest.
“Why not like this, when I want it so? I want you.”
Lifting his arm, he looked at her warily. “I want you, too, but I’ll not hurry it, Jane. Let us make the first time for us as husband and wife special.”
She pouted then climbed off him and moved off the bed, her back to him. “I suppose you wish for lavender and roses.”
“No!” He followed her, angry that she would thrust that at him at this moment. “You cannot compare that!”
“I did not … ” she began as she turned back. Then she started again, “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just hungry. Call for breakfast.”
His gaze held hers. He still felt hurt. But he shrugged. He was hungry, too. “Well then, apart from me, what do you fancy?”
The smile she gave him in answer was censored. “Anything will do, cheese, ham, eggs.”
“Coffee and bread, as well, and we are done then. Do you want me to send a maid up to you?” He echoed her smile, pulling on his boots.
“Hardly, I have nothing to change into.” And her gown was badly creased from a night sleeping in it.
He stood. “I’ll send a maid to find something else you can wear then. Besides,” he said as he tossed her a lopsided roguish smile, the one he knew could melt most women’s defences, “you need wear nothing for the rest of the day regardless. I intend to keep you very busy in this room.” He left then, in search of a maid and breakfast, not that that was what he was starving for.
~
Jane finished her last mouthful of ham and eggs then rose. They’d breakfasted in their chamber, for privacy’s sake. Jane rested one hand on her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”
“I wish you were,” Robert chimed, leaning back against his chair and stretching his legs.
“Sometimes, my Lord, you can be too crude.”
“And sometimes, my Lady, I am not indecent enough. You cannot have it both ways.”
She smiled to mollify his irritation, but turned away and went to look out the window. A carriage pulled into the courtyard below. She’d hurt Robert, she knew. She should not have mentioned the scene he’d set for Lady Baxter, but she could not help thinking about it. He’d hurt her through the years, too, through his desertion and his public pursuit of other women. That wound would not be easily forgotten.
He was the only one; she was one of hundreds.
Footsteps struck the floorboards behind her, then his palms slid about her ribs, as his lips brushed her neck with a gentle kiss. “I want you, wife.”
Just the words sent a power wave of desire racing beneath her skin. She nodded and leaned her head back on to his shoulder. His fingers began working loose the buttons at the back of her high-necked gown. His lips brushed her neck gently as her gown tightened then slackened when each button was freed, and once her dress was loose to her hips, his fingers slid beneath the fabric over her stomach and upward to cup her breasts. He was too good at this for the sake of her sanity.
He slid her dress from her shoulders and it fell to the floor. A deep breath caught in her lungs. But then he stopped and was silent.
She turned, wondering why.
His eyes were on her throat and he reached out and touched the bruises.
“You said he didn’t touch you.” There was pain in his voice.
“He didn’t, not as you meant.”
Sorrowful eyes glanced up and met her gaze. He looked down again as his fingertips brushed over her arms. There were bruises there, too. She stepped back.
“The man’s a bastard. I’ll have to kill him.” His hands fell, clenched then flexed. She stepped forward and clasped them.
“I’m free, you said it. Don’t seek to stir up a hornet’s nest, Robert.”
His gaze met hers. “I want to call him out,” he whispered in a bitter voice.
“I knew if I’d stayed at Farnborough, it would end that way. That is why I left, because I knew you would fight, and I will not see you harmed. He would kill you before you got near him. Don’t take any risks, Robert, please.”
His eyes focused heavily on hers for a moment, then, suddenly, he lifted his hands free and embraced her instead. “I’m sorry, Jane. I should not have let you leave. I should have forced you to stay. Can you forgive me?” His jaw press
ed against her hair, and she hugged him, too, and felt his anger ebb.
“I chose to leave,” she said to his shoulder. “You rescued me.”
He sighed, pulled away, and tapped her beneath the chin. “I wish you would cease getting into trouble so there would be no need for rescue.”
She lifted to her toes and kissed his lips. “Thank you.”
He hugged her again. “Come along then. Crack to it, wife. Let us get your clothes off.”
“Such charm, my Lord,” she mocked.
“Sod charm. I am impatient. Besides, you have promised to obey. What need have I for charm?”
“You had better charm me, Robert, or you’ll get nowhere. It is your charm I fell for.” He was joking to make her forget Joshua. She loved him even more for it.
“I’ll charm you with my body, Jane. You shan’t need words.”
The sentiment in his pitch made the muscles in her stomach spasm. “Robert,” she said the moment before his kiss brushed the corner of her mouth. Then his lips touched her chin and her throat, gently pressing over her bruises as his fingers slid upward from her waist.
When she lay naked on the bed, watching him finish undressing, she saw her Robert, not the rake. It touched her heart.
He grinned at her, all art gone from his look as he came to her.
He’d been with others, but they didn’t know him as she did. “Do you like what you see?” he asked as he lay down.
She did not reply. He did not give her chance; he kissed her.
She felt as though she had been made for him. This was so very right.
“I love you,” he said as he came into her.
His loving was slow and intense, heavy with emotion which burned bright in his eyes.
“Sorcerer,” she breathed as she felt a wave sweep towards her, its crest not yet broken. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders, and she cried out as the first release came already, flooding her body in a blissful tide of eclipsing sensations.
“You’re the witch,” he whispered to her ear when a second flood swelled throughout her. “You captured me years ago, Jane. I’ve been under your spell all my life.”