by Kelly Boyce
“Oh.” And then, “It’s rather large.”
He laughed and kicked off his trousers until he stood before every inch of skin bared for her to see. “Thank you.”
“That’s good then?”
“It doesn’t hurt.” Although she may disagree on that account this first time. He promised himself he would take his time, be as gentle as possible to make this as good for her as it would be for him.
“Can I touch it?”
Sweet Jesus. Deliver him from curious females. She had no idea what she asked and he had no power to deny her request. “Yes.”
Her fingertips touched him and she drew her hand back quickly as if scalded. His body shook with the effort of holding still, when all he truly wanted was to push her back against the downy mattress and sink inside of her, ridding himself of the painful need her touch created. Though if this could truly be considered pain, he had never been happier to be on the receiving end of it.
Her hand wrapped gently around his shaft. With a mischievous smile, she leaned forward and placed a kiss upon the tip. Nothing prepared him for the pleasure that tore through his body, singeing everything in its wake until nothing else remained save the exquisite torture of her mouth toying with him. His fingers threaded through her hair and held her there for a glorious moment as her tongue flicked over him. If he did not stop her this evening would end before it even started.
He moved with swift determination and gently pushed her back onto the mattress, hovering over her. “You, my sweet little minx, are a wonder. I am almost afraid to know how you knew to do that.”
“Isn’t that what you did to me?” Her hand lingered on her breast where he had kissed her. “Was that the wrong thing to do?”
He shook his head. “God no. But—” How did he explain it to her. “Do you recall how it felt, when we were in your brother’s study and I touched you?” He slid his hand down over the tuft of hair.
The muscles in her throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes.”
“Tell me.” His hand slipped away and he knelt before her.
“It felt wonderful.”
“It started off slow, did it not?” He pulled her closer to the edge of the mattress. “Open for me,” he whispered.
She hesitated for only a brief second before spreading her legs to either side of him. “Yes. Then it built.”
He leaned forward, his hands sliding up the front of her thighs. “And then what?” He lowered himself and put his mouth against the folds of her core, pressing into her. Her hand flew downward, not to stop him, but to press against her center, as if to contain the sensations his touch stirred within her.
“Then it grew stronger. You stroked me and it grew stronger. More.”
“Like this?” His tongue lashed out and licked her. She tasted of honey and fire and he had to hold himself back.
She bucked against him. “Yes. Oh, yes.” Then, “Do that again.”
He did, slower, increasing the pressure as he went until he reached the nub at the top and pulled it gently into his mouth and teased it. She let out a cry and he continued until she writhed beneath him, her breath coming fast and hard. She grabbed at his hair to gain purchase and held him there while he kissed and suckled and licked and tasted. She rocked against him, the rhythm of her body quickening until another cry wrested from her and her body arched and stiffened and he felt her muscles contract and then blissfully release.
After a moment, once her breathing returned to normal, he stood and slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her farther onto the bed. He nestled between her thighs and wondered how a place so new could feel so much like home. How a person could feel so much like home. And yet she did.
“Did you like that?” He kissed her collarbone, neck, earlobe, temple. He could not get enough of her. Would never get enough of her. The idea rocked him so deeply he stopped for a moment, frozen in time as the truth of it swept over him and removed everything in its way.
After this moment, there could be no turning back. He could stop now, right now, and she could go on, recover from this and remain enough of an innocent to marry without questions being raised. She could marry a titled lord, one without the baggage or threats hanging over his head as Marcus did.
Guilt and honor continued to wage their battle while the touch of her skin burned into his, branding him forever. He belonged to her. Now and always. But did he have the right to keep her as his own, to ruin any chance of a future she had free of scandal and ruin?
“Stop thinking.”
Her voice startled him. Her words even more so. “I am not—”
“You are,” she said. “I can see it in your face. Your brow is doing that thing.”
He lifted his head to better look at her. “What thing?”
The light flickered over her ivory skin like a lover’s caress and jealousy hit him. He wished to travel the same path so the last touch she knew would be his. Always his.
“The thing where the two lines appear right here.” She reached a hand up and pressed her finger between his eyebrows. “And then you purse your mouth into a rather grim line.” Her fingertip slipped down the line of his nose and landed against his mouth. He opened it slightly and nipped at her, making her giggle, which he decided was, next to her moan of pleasure, perhaps his favorite sound in the world. “If you were thinking to stop now—”
“I was,” he admitted.
“Then you need to change your way of thinking.”
“I should not ruin you.”
She smiled at him. “I am already ruined.” She touched his face and he turned into her hand. “Do you honestly believe I could ever do this with another man? Let someone else touch me as you did, knowing I wished him to be you? My heart is not so fickle that it will allow me to transfer my affections so easily.”
“Perhaps you should try.” It would be better for her in the long run, and in the end that is all he wanted—for her to be happy. Safe.
“No.” She leaned up and kissed him, teasing him in much the same way he had her, proving what a quick and eager student she was. Not to mention effective. She rocked against him and his protests melted away, his cock hardened. She was right. She was ruined. As was he.
There was no turning back.
“Marry me, then?”
“I thought you might never ask,” she said, then kissed him once more, the feel of her smile against his sheer bliss. “Now, kind sir, will you perhaps finish what you started?”
He smiled and his heart filled. A lifetime of happiness with this woman stretched before him and filled him with wonder. No matter what happened, he would protect her. He would ensure her happiness no matter the cost.
“If my lady wishes.”
“She does. She wishes it very much. But—what of my stockings?” She lifted one leg in the air and he glanced over his shoulder at the slim, shapely limb and the white silk tied securely above her knee by a dainty green and pink garter. Tiny pink rosebuds, embroidered into the silk traveled down her leg in a winding fashion along a vine of ivy that reached to her ankle.
“I think I should like you to leave them on.”
“Why?”
He shook his head and turned back to her with a smile. “I cannot say. Other than to admit there is something sinfully sexy about having you while you’re wearing nothing but soft skin and silk.”
She let out a small laugh and wrapped both legs around his hips so the silk rubbed against him and he hardened even more. The tip of his erection pressed against her opening, already slick from where he’d kissed her and brought her to the point of ecstasy before letting her tumble over its edge. “Then I shall leave them on. For you.”
Her kissed her once again then lifted himself onto his forearms and shifted his hips, entering her part way before stopping. “Does this hurt?”
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath then shook her head.
He withdrew slightly, pushed in a little farther. The twin lines she had accused him of wearing creased bet
ween her eyebrows. Her hand gripped his upper arm.
“Rebecca?”
She opened her eyes, silver and magical. “It feels…odd.”
He had no ready response to that as he waited for her to grow accustomed to him. His body begged for release, but he held back, resisting his own need. He did not want to rush her.
She arched her body and he sunk farther into her. She winced. “Oh!”
Shit! He moved to withdraw but her legs tightened against him and refused his retreat. The torture of it was almost more than he could bear.
“I’m fine,” she said and arched her hips once more. He slid fully inside her, enveloped by her warmth. Her breath caught and he froze, but surprise became a smile. “Do that again.”
He withdrew half way then slowly repeated the movement.
Her smile grew. “That feels quite—” He did it again. “Oh, yes. I like that.” The words came on a breath and her body lifted to meet his thrusts. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
She shook her head. “I have that ache again.”
She moved her body as if searching for the release they both craved. Her hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring her as she moved against him, taking over, seeking her own pleasure and leaving him no choice but to move with her to find his. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him and filled her again and again, listening to her breath, knowing when she grew close to climax and trying desperately to hold on as her body trembled then shuddered. Finally his control snapped and he joined her in the void where only their hearts and bodies existed and everything else remained at bay.
In that moment, Marcus understood the meaning of forever. Understood he would do whatever it took to keep it. To honor it.
To honor her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rebecca stretched and a thrill shot through her as her bare skin moved against Marcus’s. Her silk stockings had eventually been removed and any hope she had of recovering the brilliant hairstyle Nancy had managed, forever gone. She’d be lucky if she could find half the hairpins where they had scattered about the floor and who knew where else. She hoped they didn’t end up rolling over onto one.
“Do you think anyone has missed us?”
She and Marcus had been gone nearly two hours, but likely the party had another hour of life left in it before the revelers returned to their beds. She, for one, had no wish to leave hers. She found the more times she and Marcus shared their bodies, the more she liked it. The pain that had initially shocked her at his invasion had faded from memory, painted over by the pleasure to be found in his embrace.
Was it any wonder Abigail and Caelie wore such secret smiles since their own weddings?
Marcus kissed her temple, his eyes still closed since their last coupling where he had placed her on top of him and allowed her to set the pace. The heady sense of power had made her pleasure all the more potent and she was eager to try it again.
“I’m sure if your brother suspected what we were about he’d be banging at your door and demanding my head.”
“Which one?”
He opened his eyes and squinted at her until she could not help but laugh. Warmth spread through her when he joined her with a smile of his own. “Minx.”
“Perhaps, but I am your minx.”
“Indeed you are.” Marcus pushed himself up on his elbow. “I will speak to your brother first thing in the morning and see about procuring a special license. I do not want to take the chance of waiting in the event we have created a babe this evening.”
His hand traveled to her belly and she covered it with her own. “Do you think we did?” The idea filled her with a sense of wonder, to think of Marcus’s child already growing in her womb.
“I cannot say, but we cannot chance it. I won’t have our child being born a—” He stopped short, but his meaning fell between them as reality intruded into the warm cocoon their lovemaking had created.
She touched his face with a gentle hand. “I would love him no less and protect him just as fiercely, as I’m sure your mother did you.”
“Do you think she did?”
“Do you not?”
“I do not know. I have not read the last entry.”
Rebecca lifted herself up on her elbow. “Why ever not?”
He shook his head and avoided her gaze, but she could see it in his eyes nonetheless. The uncertainty. The fear.
“You do not want to know how her story ended.”
He shook his head in answer then gave her a wan smile. “Cowardly, isn’t it?”
“No.” She reached up and pressed her lips against his mouth, infusing all the love in her heart for this wonderful man into that one touch so he would know, whatever the end, good or bad, it would not change her feelings for him. “I think it quite normal.”
He chuckled and kissed her back and for a moment she hoped they could push the world away a little longer, but as quickly as the kiss began, it ended and he looked at her with regret.
“I cannot stay.” He hesitated. “The sheets will have—”
She nodded, cutting him off. The telltale signs of her loss of innocence would be readily visible. “I will have Nancy take care of it.”
Marcus’s hand trailed down her face and neck, his lingering touch testament to his reluctance to leave her. Soon, he would not have to. She longed for that day, to tarry in bed for as long as they wished and let the day go on without them while they stayed beneath the covers exploring each other, talking, laughing. He smiled at her as if understanding her unspoken thoughts.
“There is a hunt on the morrow. I will try to speak to your brother beforehand.”
“What of Walkerton’s threats with respect to the watch? I do not know how much longer we have before he makes good on them.”
Marcus pulled her into his arms and she tucked her head beneath his chin. “I will return the watch to him tomorrow.” She heard the smile in his voice when he spoke next. “I cannot have my bride marry me from a barred cell.”
The idea of him being in such a predicament frightened her far more than any scandal, but she did her best to maintain a lighter air so he did not know. “It would make the wedding night most difficult to enjoy.”
“Then that seals it. I cannot risk disappointing my wife on the first night of our marriage.”
She pulled away and gave him a kiss. Bride. Wife. His. How she loved the language that bound them together and drew a future she could invest her heart and soul in. “You could never disappointment me.” She pushed lightly at his chest. “Now go. It is much easier to sneak away while the shadows are still long and the hallway dark.”
He stole another kiss, quick and passionate. “How tawdry you make it sound.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts.” She laughed. “For soon we shall be an old married couple and your days of sneaking and tawdriness will be well behind us.”
“Perhaps the sneaking,” Marcus said as he threw back the covers and rose from the bed, giving her a full view of his magnificent backside. “But I do hope the tawdriness lasts well into old age.” He glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Were you just looking at my backside?”
She smiled. “I was simply doing my part to maintain the tawdriness.”
And suddenly he was beside her once again, and sneaking into the hallway’s shadows was put off for one last tumble in the bed they had shared.
* * *
“Ah, and this must be the beautiful Lady Rebecca.”
Rebecca stopped short, her path through the library blocked by a man she had not met before. He was of medium height with plain brown hair, though grey had threaded through his temples and streaked it throughout. She did not recognize him but trepidation crawled up her spine and the hair at the base of her neck stood on end.
“Lord Walkerton?”
He bowed slightly. “At your service.”
“We have not been properly introduced,” she said, hoping to put him off, to slip away
. She wanted nothing to do with the man threatening to ruin Marcus and destroy their future, though the second part he had no knowledge of. Their engagement would not be announced until after Marcus spoke with Nicholas and she had the opportunity to break the news to Lord Selward. She did not want him to learn of their plans publically. He deserved better than that and she needed to maintain a good relationship with him. In the event Lord Walkerton refused to acknowledge Marcus, Lord Selward may be the only one who could back up Marcus’s claim.
“Indeed, we have not. An oversight on my son’s part given your close relationship.”
She did not care for the connotation in his tone. “We have an acquaintance, my lord. I consider Lord Selward a friend.”
“Ah. Friend is it? Well.” He smiled at her and she searched for some hint of Marcus in him, some sense that they shared blood and that, despite everything she had learned about the man, she might find something redemptive. She didn’t. For all his slick politeness, Lord Walkerton remained difficult to read, his expression closed off beneath a veneer of politeness that lacked any hint of sincerity.
“If you will excuse me, my lord. I am on my way to see my mother about this evening’s entertainments.”
“Then I would be only too happy to provide you escort. It has been quite some time since I have seen the lovely Lady Blackbourne. You favor her in some regard. Not surprising my son would be so taken with you.”
The man offered Rebecca his arm and despite the warnings that clamored in the back of her head, she took it. Perhaps if she could ingratiate herself to Lord Walkerton, she could make him see the sense in acknowledging Marcus as his son. The chances were slim she could convince him so easily, but she was not one to pass up an opportunity when it presented itself. Besides, after last night, the need to be Marcus’s wife had increased tenfold. She did not care to be separated from him for another night, and while she recognized that their marriage was unlikely to happen so quickly, the sooner the better. Her hand traveled to her abdomen then, realizing what she had done, she let it drop away as Lord Walkerton led her out the French doors and onto the stone terrace.