“Oh Felix.” She shook her head. Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. “I cannot let you do that. You’ll destroy your reputation among the Peerage.”
“It’s already suffered a few dents. One more won’t harm me.”
“No. I’d hate myself if I gave in and let myself fall victim to your pretty words, for that’s all they are. We both know that.” Knots tightened in her belly, fueled by her old familiar fear of love over lust.
“And I’d hate myself if I didn’t press on.”
She tried a difference tactic. “I’m a nobody with a clouded pedigree.”
“It makes no difference about your bloodlines, but to me, you are everything and have my recommendation. If you wish to pursue your French connections, I will do everything in my power to help you claim them.”
Clarice issued an unladylike snort. Why was he being so impossible? “I’m more of a pastry chef and peasant cook than a lady.”
He slid his hands up, cupping her breasts. “All to the good since I enjoy eating. I know from experience you are quite capable in the kitchen.”
She trembled from the intimate contact, but the heat he imparted wove around her, relaxing and calm. “You know any union between us is impossible—a legal union—and I refuse any other resolution.”
“I don’t know.” Felix brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and when they hardened and she gasped, he slid his hands upward to rest on her shoulders. “What are you afraid of? Fear has lurked in your eyes ever since that first night in the kitchens. It’s made me curious. You run from me each time you feel our kisses affect you. Is it me who terrifies you, mon petit?”
His use of the French endearment, as well as his fleeting erotic caress made her shiver with need. His solicitous attitude and stubborn willingness to be with her broke through every defense she’d built. A tear fell to her cheek. There wasn’t anything else to lose. “My whole life I watched my mother move from man to man like a bee to flowers. She chased the feeling being with a different protector brought her, but I think they were merely ghosts. I believe she was once in love and that man broke her heart. She never could regain what she felt for him.”
“She didn’t confirm your suspicions?” He rubbed her collarbones with his thumbs. Each pass sent tingles of delight down her spine.
“No, she never spoke of him though I suspect he might have been the Duke of Amherst.”
“Then you were conceived out of love—at least on her part.”
“I wish I could believe that, for I’ve come to see my mother for what she really was—a flirt who cared more for the material trappings each man could give her.” Clarice peered into Felix’s dear face, caught that special grin he always had just for her, and she sighed. “I don’t want that sort of empty life she had, Felix.”
He slid a palm down her arm. “What is it you do want, Clarice?”
The way her name sounded in his whispered voice was as joyful as an angel’s song. “I don’t wish to be a slave to fleeting pleasure, bereft when it’s gone or when the gentleman grows tired.” She worried her bottom lip then forced away a smile. “I want love and all the raw feelings it might bring, despite that my mother cautioned against it. I don’t want temporal. I…” She wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I want forever.”
“Then you and I are in agreement on something. Thank God for small miracles. I want that as well.” This time he ran the pad of a thumb along her bottom lip. “With you, in case you wondered.”
“No.” Her chin trembled. “You only feel lust for me. It’s much too soon for love, and that emotion will only destroy a person.” She mocked herself in her head. Hadn’t she fallen in love no matter that it was impossible and in a short amount of time?
“You really are an innocent, darling, and very confused.” He pulled her close to his chest and held her tight. “Nothing is impossible. Please do not doubt that I’m entirely in earnest.” He pressed a kiss into her hair then proceeded to pull the pins from her mussed coif. When he tangled his fingers into her tresses, he sighed. “Stop being difficult and accept my suit. Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi.”
Clarice sucked in a breath. He’d admitted he was falling in love with her.
“If I’m not completely there already,” he finished.
A rush of warmth suffused her and brought with it a wave of joy that bubbled up in her chest until she wanted to laugh for the sheer wonder of it all. Her mother had been dreadfully wrong. Lust wasn’t better than love. In fact, love made a person break free of every bond—real or imagined—that held them captive. “I feel the same way, Felix, but—”
“Hush. Just enjoy the moment. Everything will work out in due course.” He held her head to his shoulder. “We’re almost home.”
Home. Never had that word sounded so sweet or as promising. She pressed her lips to the strong column of his throat and tasted salty sweat. For the first time in a long while, peace surrounded her heart. She was happy to let him take care of her for this moment.
Chapter Eleven
Felix handed Clarice down from the carriage just as dawn broke along the horizon. “I cannot let you return to the Drummond house, but until I can put you somewhere safe, you can stay with my family, in the company of my sister, of course. This is only until I secure you someplace else to reside.” Dear God, having her under the same roof, even for a few days, would tax his willpower. He’d nearly lost all common sense having her on his lap during the carriage ride. Despite the aches and pains wracking his body, he needed to claim her, show her how deep his regard went and make her understand he wanted her for more than a bedmate.
“I enjoy Charlotte’s company.”
“That will make things a bit easier.”
“However, you must understand that I value my independence and would like to find a new position and earn a salary.” Strength rang in her voice.
He tamped the urge to roll his eyes. “If that is what you wish, I will help you secure a new position.” Though how his mother would react to both him taking care of Clarice without the bond of marriage or letting her join the working public concerned him. In the end it didn’t matter. He’d handle his mother as he always had. Felix led Clarice into the house. Of course it was too early for Samuel to be up and about, especially after his sleep interruption from earlier, so he tugged her toward the staircase, hoping the spare bedroom they kept for guests had been made up.
Just as he put a foot onto the first step, Clarice squeezed his hand. “Is there an issue?” He turned his head and held her gaze for long moments, her brown depths peppered with gold flecks in the faint light of an oil lamp left burning on a table. Desire and something much bigger darkened her eyes. Dare he hope it was love? Though she’d agreed with his sentiments in the carriage, he longed to hear the words from her lips. “Clarice?”
“Yes.”
His groin tightened, but he couldn’t afford to assume her train of thought was the same as his own. “Yes what?”
“Yes, I want you to take me upstairs… to your bed.” Her whisper sent chills through his body. “I don’t wish to let fear hold me back from being with you.”
“Oh, sweeting, I—”
“Shh.” She held a finger to his lips. “You’re not taking advantage. I’m giving you this gift only on the knowledge this doesn’t give you permission to take me as a mistress.”
Felix stared at her as his pulse thundered in his ears. In the end, it didn’t matter that he’d wanted to show her respect and treat her like the lady he knew she was; he was merely a man who wanted to worship his woman with his body. “Very well, but we must be quiet. It won’t do to rouse the household at the moment.”
Never had he gained the upper floor so quickly. Never had he anticipated anything quite so much. By the time he’d ushered Clarice into his suite and closed the door behind them, his heart tried to burst from his chest and his hardened member pressed tight against the front of his trousers.
The window drapes hadn’t been clo
sed. The first soft glimmers of the dawn seeped through the glass and illuminated the insecurity and desire that battled in her eyes. “If you wish to beg off, I will understand.”
“No. I cannot imagine a more perfect night to share this with you.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Although I would have wished for a better presentation. I’m afraid I resemble a rag bag. And I’ve quite destroyed Charlotte’s pretty dress.”
“Not any worse than I do, I daresay. Besides, you would look beautiful wrapped in burlap.” He captured her face between his palms and gazed into her face. “I couldn’t take my eyes from you at dinner. You upstaged every other woman there tonight.” When she smiled, his chest swelled. “Never let anyone make you feel inferior. You surpass many who hold fortunes and titles.”
“Oh Felix, you are always the gentleman. I don’t deserve you.” She attempted to pull away, but he refused to release her, and instead kissed her forehead.
“That may be true for I fear I’ll be too much trouble for you in the future.” Sanity slipped as his gaze slipped to her low décolletage. He forced moisture into his dry throat. His happiness, his very being, hung in the balance, but his path had never been as clear as it was now. Before he could change his mind, he dropped to one knee before her. “Clarice Adele Delacroix, please marry me.”
Her eyes widened. Her lips formed an “o” of surprise. “You cannot mean that.”
“Oh, but I do. I should have asked you in the carriage, but I mangled that conversation too.” Felix grabbed her hands in his. “I’m nothing if you’re not by my side, and I want all of Society to know how I feel.”
“But your mother and your reputation. Your seat in Parliament will be in jeopardy.” She tugged at her hands, but he held tight.
“My mother and any other naysayers can go hang for all I care. Mother’s only wish was that I marry. Eventually, she’ll reconcile to the fact I love you to distraction. I’d rather wed for love than position, for in the end, I’ll gain everything.” He pressed a kiss to the back of each of her hands. “And if the pompous old goats in Parliament decree that wedding below my station compromises my ability to do my duty, so be it. My brother Oliver can have my seat and let the Darrington family be led by a Whig.”
“Felix, I…”
Botheration. Why couldn’t she accept the romance of the moment and give in? “I merely want you, now and for always, no matter what befalls us.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Please don’t leave me to my mother’s machinations. At least in this, she’ll get her comeuppance.”
Clarice giggled even as tears fell to her cheeks. “You’re quite incorrigible when you want your way.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Is that an acceptance?”
“Yes.” She tugged him to his feet. “Yes, you stubborn, determined, annoying, wonderful man, I will marry you, even if you are a Tory.”
With a cry of triumph, he crushed her in his arms and spun with her. “While you’ve made me the happiest of men, I have my doubts I’ll remain a Tory with you by my side, telling me how wrong I am at every conversation.” Finally, he set her down.
“Times are changing.” She slipped behind him and helped him out of his tailcoat. “Women will help shape the world—at least behind a masculine face for a while.”
“As long as men have women like you arguing and pushing them to be better, I cannot think that this will be a bad thing.” Felix pivoted and caught her in an embrace. “Shall we retire for the night?” He worked the buttons on the back of her gown, and when it sagged open, he slid it from her shoulders then pushed it down her hips. “Did my sister lend you the underclothes as well?” He trailed a finger along the embroidered blue butterflies at the bodice of her petticoat.
“Yes. I’m afraid I didn’t own anything nice enough for this evening.” She helped him out of his waistcoat then did the same with his cravat and shirt. “Oh my.”
A surge of masculine pride assailed him as she ran her eager gaze over his form. “They are pretty and suit you.” He couldn’t wait to dress her in fine lawns and silks or drape her with expensive gowns and jewelry. “But they are not needed tonight.” With slightly shaking fingers, he divested her of the petticoat, manipulated the stays and relieved her of that garment before finally pulling a plain linen shift up and off her body.
When she attempted to cover herself, he grabbed her hands, spreading her arms in order to look at her. Her olive skin beckoned to him like a siren; the dark brown peaks of her lush breasts were pebbled and erect. “Breathtaking.” Gently, as if she’d break, he encouraged her onto the enormous four-poster bed. “I’ll be but a moment.” He removed her shoes. As soon as they fell to the floor, he toed off his boots then shucked out of his trousers with more haste than finesse.
“Do you wish for me to remove the stockings or at least your sister’s choker?” Clarice propped herself on an elbow, but her gaze firmly locked onto his engorged shaft.
A shudder moved through him from her avid regard. “No. You look fetching laid out for me just as you are.” The beribboned garters that encircled her slim thighs urged him onto the bed; the black velvet around her neck dared him into nipping the soft skin there. He sighed against her lavender-scented skin as he encouraged her fully onto her back. “Let me love you the way I’ve wanted to since you dumped that trifle into Olivia’s lap.”
She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him. The scrape of her fingernails on his back heightened his need. “I will admit I was impressed you defied convention and entered the kitchens to talk with me.”
“I was fascinated from the first.” Felix kissed a path from her jawline down between her breasts. Then there was no more talking as he closed his lips around one hardened nipple. A gasp escaped her and he switched attention to the other breast.
“Wait.” She pushed against his chest until he looked into her eyes. “You’re injured from the rescue. I saw the bruising, the cuts.”
“Trust me, sweetness. Loving you has made me forget my aches, and besides, nothing is broken or in desperate need of a physician. I’ll be right as rain soon.” He dipped his head and again found a nipple.
Her velvety skin increased his craving. Every breathless sound she made spurred him onward. The heat from her body called to him, urging him to claim her.
Felix parted her legs with a knee then settled himself between them. “Are you certain?” If she wanted to change her mind, he’d let her go and be honorable about it.
“Yes. I’ve desired you since the confectionary shop. You treated me with such kindness and tenderness, I nearly cried.” She stroked her hands down his arms. Goose flesh followed in her wake. “But might I suggest a couple of pillows beneath my hips? Mother always recommended such a prop as it allegedly brings greater pleasure to both participants.”
He levered off her. “Have you personal experience in love making?” His stomach clenched at the thought of another man knowing her on such an intimate level. After all her staunch protests, had she truly known men as her mother had?
“Absolutely not. You are my one, and my only, much to my mother’s disappointment. I wasn’t lying.” She handed him two bed pillows then planted her feet flat on the bed and lifted her hips. “Quickly now. We have danced around this coupling for weeks. I’ve just been too confused to know that love, though it feels much like desire, goes much deeper.”
Was it any wonder he loved her?
Once he’d situated the pillows beneath her hips and buttocks, he resumed his position between her legs, kneeling this time. There was so much he should tell her, warn her of since she was a virgin, but the throbbing of his shaft signaled time was wasting and no doubt her mother had already schooled in such things. Still, he was honor-bound to try. “Dearest, there will be pain.”
“Felix, rest assured, my mother made certain I was thoroughly versed in what transpires between a man and a woman.” Her chuckle warmed his chin. “In this matter, she was a good teacher.”
“I plan to explore and e
xploit your knowledge.” His tip kissed her wet opening. “My dear Clarice.”
She curled her hands around his upper arms. “I want you, my lord.”
“Afterward, I will kiss you until you agree to call me by my given name for the rest of your life. I don’t know why you keep relapsing.” He leaned forward and thrust his hard shaft into her heat until his length broke through her maidenhead and he was fully sheathed. A groan ripped from his throat. It mingled with her sharp cry. She was marvelously tight and so welcoming.
Unshed tears choked his throat. She’d willingly given herself to him, offered up her virginity. He was the first man to ever claim her. He vowed to teach her everything he knew of the bedroom arts, protect her with his life, and encourage her in any endeavor she wished to try and in everything, to love her without condition.
“Felix?” Clarice wriggled her hips, which sent him deeper.
He shoved all other thoughts aside and concentrated on her. “Are you hurt?” He couldn’t help withdrawing only to experience the tingling joy of entering her again.
“Minimal discomfort, but it is fading.”
“Good.” Then instinct guided him and he took her with short, powerful strokes. She pulled her legs closer to her chest and he penetrated deeper. Heat and wonder swirled through and around him. Her breasts jiggled with each push. Emotion sparkled in her dark eyes, but it was her smile that made him lose his heart to her all over again. Faster and faster he moved. Harder and stronger he drove. Her thighs trembled. She threw her head back as tiny, broken cries left her throat, followed by a string of excited scraps of endearments and encouragement in French too quick and soft for him to understand.
Felix gritted his teeth. When her inner muscles tightened and spasmed, heat raced up his shaft. His own release broke before he was ready, and when sensation rushed through his member, he ground his hips into hers to prolong the feeling. He groaned as he finished then collapsed onto her body, his breathing harsh and ragged.
Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord Page 16