My Wicked Marquess

by Gaelen Foley

  He flinched, but he did not deny it.

  She pulled away from him, stricken. “How could you not tell me this before?”

  “Forgive me,” he whispered. He put his head down.

  Daphne moved back to the table, leaning against it to steady herself against this terrible future possibility. She was silent for a long moment. “You finish this, Max. Do whatever you have to do. You and the Scotsman and Warrington, Falconridge, whoever else it takes. End this battle for once and for all, so our sons won’t have to.”

  “I will do all in my power to make it so.” He came up tentatively behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

  Her heart in a tumult of emotion, she turned around and returned his embrace, burying her face against his chest for a moment. She willed herself to hold on to her courage, pressing her eyes closed. “I believe in you,” she whispered fiercely. “And I will support you in this however I can. I love you, Max.”

  “That’s all I need to hear.” He hugged her harder, his impassioned whisper strained with feeling. “Virgil thinks the cause itself is enough to inspire us, but I’d give so much more to fight for you than for humanity at large. You are everything to me, Daphne.”

  As twin tears spilled from her eyes, he bent his head and kissed her.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she breathed against his lips. “Thank you for what you’ve done. Keeping people safe, and they don’t even know it.” She caressed him in reverent adoration. “They have no idea of your sacrifice.”

  “If you know, that’s enough for me.” He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “I never wanted to keep secrets from you, Daphne.”

  She took his face between her hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we are in accord now, and at last, you’ve let me see you—the man I truly love. Finally now I understand you, where you’ve been, and what’s been driving you. I love you, Max. I do. I always will.”

  “Daphne.” He tilted his head and kissed her in stormy tenderness.

  With the truth out in the open at last and the shadows between them cleared away, she was suddenly dying to have him inside her. She wanted nothing but to be one with him completely. She caressed his shoulders and held him in possessive passion, kissing him hungrily; his male instincts quickly got the message. He set her up on the edge of the table and continued kissing her. She arched as he cupped her breasts.

  “Max?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What if we had a daughter?” she murmured between kisses. “Would the Order also claim her?”

  “No. Though, on second thought, maybe they should. Because if our daughter took after her mother, she’d probably be even more dangerous than our son.”

  “Me, dangerous?” Daphne replied with an innocent glance.

  Max paused, a lazy smile curving his lips as they lingered against hers. “Damned right, my love. Did I mention how much I liked you last night?”

  She laughed softly and pulled back to give him a vixenish smile. “I rather liked me, too. Of course, I was furious at you,” she added.

  “You can get angry at me like that anytime,” he purred before burying his lips against her neck.

  “Well, now I think it’s time that we made up,” she replied, trailing her fingers down his chest.

  “Couldn’t agree with you more. God, you drive me to distraction.”

  “Take me.”

  She sat on the end of the long wooden table; he stood between her thighs. They were still fully clothed, but he lifted her skirts and moved closer; she reached down and freed him from his trousers.

  A moment later, her heart racing, she drew in her breath in sensuous welcome as he entered her. He groaned aloud.

  The blissful relief of their bodies joined once more in love swept over her senses. A throaty moan of pleasure escaped her as he rocked her slowly, with dark tenderness, savoring their union.

  The flickering torchlight played over the uneven stone walls of the Pit. As the pleasure of his loving ravishment overcame her senses, she lay back slowly on the table, offering herself as a gift to his hunger.

  He leaned down and thrust more deeply into her, aroused to new heights by her willing yielding. She wrapped her legs around him, hooking her heels behind his hips.

  The intoxicating passion of his wild, claiming kisses half suffocated her with dizzying pleasure. She raked her fingers through his tousled hair until she had to gasp for breath; she ended the kiss, panting, while her hands ran hungrily all over him, claiming every inch of him for her own.

  “I love you,” she breathed against his scruffy cheek as she gave herself to him, no longer in blind faith, but knowing fully who and what he was, and loving him all the more for the nobleness she had always sensed in him, but only now, finally, had proved.

  Max rested his elbows on either side of her head on the coarse wooden table and gazed for a long moment, wistfully, into her eyes.

  He was amazed to find himself finally known, truly loved, and accepted. “I love you, Daphne,” he whispered as he captured a strand of her hair and rubbed it longingly against his face. “You’re so much more than I ever dreamed I could have. Please don’t ever leave me again. You’ve run away twice from me now. I don’t think I could take a third time. If you do go, you know I’m only going to follow you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, love. You have me now, forever.”

  He moaned softly against her neck in ecstasy at her words. Finally, he knew the meaning of home.

  He might not have all the answers, and perhaps the war against the evil they were duty-bound to fight must yet go on. But at last, for him, there was a kind of peace.

  After all his years of solitary wandering, ever on the hunt, a stranger in a strange land, at least he was no longer alone. He had her now, and they were one, in spirit as in flesh, made whole again, as though each had found the missing pieces of themselves inside each other. She gave new purpose to his strength; he gave shelter to her caring heart.

  Max held her close as he loved her, whispering his devotion in her ear.

  If all his years of wandering had taught him one thing, it was that the heart was its own place, its own country—and for him, she was its queen.

  There was nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in the arms of the woman he trusted and loved, his mate, his wife, his angel.

  Together they could share in their own secret heaven, even as the storms outside them raged.

  Epilogue

  A fortnight later

  I’m so glad you’re back in Town,” Carissa said as Daphne and she strolled through the brilliant ballroom together just like they used to.

  “Well, I’m just happy to see that your cousins are behaving themselves again.”

  “Yes, it’s remarkable how they suddenly turned around,” Carissa said dryly. “I must admit, I so enjoyed seeing them bowing and scraping to you, Marchioness.”

  Daphne chuckled. “Maybe I can find a marquess for you, too, my dear. Of course, there is always the new bachelor Duke of Holyfield.” Daphne gave her a subtle nod at Albert Carew, who was leaning by one of the columns in the ballroom, looking as malcontent as ever.

  Albert seemed very different since his brother’s death, the dandy’s flamboyant colors replaced by the somber black of his mourning.

  When he saw Daphne, he sent her a sneering imitation of a smile and turned away. Daphne shrugged off her former suitor’s unpleasantness and nudged Carissa.

  “So, do you want to visit the orphans with me before we all leave for Worcestershire? We’re going to let the children decorate the whole place for Christmas.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

  “Max bought a used pianoforte for the children, too, did I tell you? We are going to sing some carols, and I think I may even give some of the older girls their first music lesson.”

  “I still can’t believe how well you play.”

  “I do love it. I wish I hadn’t left off it all those ye
ars. It hurt too much before. It was always something I shared with Mama.”

  “Well, you certainly haven’t lost your touch. Oh, look, there is your husband. Oh, dear.” Carissa frowned. “Why is he off in that quiet alcove talking to another lady?”

  Daphne followed Carissa’s glance, then smiled. “That’s his sister, Lady Thurloe.”

  “Shall we join them?”

  She shook her head, warmed to see her husband finally reaching out to his devoted sister. “Better to leave them in peace for now. They have a lot to say to each other.”

  “There’s a message I’ve needed to pass along to you for a long time, Max, from our father. Something he said on his deathbed that he wanted you to know.”

  Max stared into his sister’s eyes. After seeing how painful Drake’s absence was for Lady Westwood, he had begun to realize that his own family might have suffered similarly with him gone. So, cautiously, he had sought out Beatrice. He figured he was as ready to hear what she had to say as he ever would be.

  “Max, you have no idea how proud of you Daddy really was,” she said. “I was with him for several days leading up to the end. We talked a lot. You see, I was angry at you for not being there when he was dying. I felt you had abandoned us for your quest for riches or your search for pleasure. But Daddy didn’t want me to be angry at you. He swore me to secrecy and then, on his deathbed, told me the real reason you were always gone. He told me how noble it was, what you were doing, and he made me promise never to give up on you. Don’t worry, I never told anyone. Not even my Paul. Our father swore me to secrecy, and I have honored that.”

  “Good.”

  “Max, even more importantly, when I asked him if he had any regrets, he said there was only one. He said his biggest regret was not letting himself be closer to you,” she said softly. “He said you were the best son any man could have, but he never really showed his love because he knew they’d come to take you away. He knew he’d have to give you up. The weaker your ties to us, the less painful it would be for you when the time came for you to go.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “You also need to know how ashamed Daddy was of the money the Order gave us to put our affairs in line. But he accepted it for Mama’s sake and mine. As hard as that was for his Rotherstone pride, what was even worse for him was knowing that he had no way to protect you from this burden on our lineage. He felt impotent to do anything about it, and I believe that is one of the main reasons he drank.”

  Max nodded grimly. He could believe it. Until now, he had not been quite able to put himself in his father’s shoes. But as the prospective father of a future agent of the Order, he could now easily empathize with how his father must have felt to have to let Virgil take him. It must have been even worse for his father, Max thought, because at least he had the training and the wherewithal to fight back so that, God willing, his son one day could be spared.

  “You may remember that Daddy’s drinking got worse after you left. He withdrew deeper and deeper into himself. Only I, in all my adorable childhood glory back then, was able to charm him back out of his depression on occasion. But at least he no longer gambled. He told me the powers-that-be at the Order had established those terms with him. If he ever broke their terms and gambled again, he was told he would never see you again. They would not even have allowed you to come home on those brief breaks from school that you sometimes got.”

  Max stared at her, stunned. “He quit gambling for me?”

  She nodded. “He loved you, Max. Some people don’t show it very well, and I’m not making excuses for him, but our sire had a good heart under it all.” She paused. “I can’t even imagine all you’ve been through, or how it must have felt for you as a boy, dragged off to be turned into a warrior, and to know your family had received gold in return. You must have thought they sold you. And maybe they did, I don’t know. I don’t think that your Highlander friend gave our parents much choice. But I want you to know that your sacrifice was not in vain.”

  “What do you mean?” he forced out, barely able to speak past the lump in his throat.

  “When I turned seventeen, the money we had received paid for my Season, where I met my Paul, the love of my life. And in turn, we now have our two beautiful children, whom we utterly adore, and hopefully several more to come. My big brother, you gave me the chance to find happiness, and, at least, now I get the chance to thank you.”

  She shook her head. “Dear heaven, if you had not done it, if you had not gone with the Order—if they had not given us the money, and we had stayed poor—I never could’ve had a Season, or met my husband. I would’ve had to stay in the country in Worcestershire, and probably would’ve ended up marrying one of our neighbor boys, the Carew brothers!”

  He furrowed his brow as he saw the truth of her words.

  “Due to my rank, I probably would’ve married the eldest, Hayden. Don’t you see? That wife of his, who drowned with him in France—if it weren’t for you, big brother, that could have been me.”

  Max drew in his breath, stunned by this revelation.

  Beatrice hugged him, and this time, Max hugged her back, gathering her more tightly after a moment. His mind was reeling as the same past he’d always looked at one way assumed a whole new, different shape.

  He had always interpreted his father’s distant attitude as disappointment, disapproval. He saw now that was not necessarily the case. “Thank you for telling me all this. It really changes the picture for me.”

  “You thought nobody cared.”

  He nodded silently.

  She shook her head and gave him a misty-eyed smile.

  “Well.” She sniffled, bringing her emotions under control. “At least I don’t have to worry about you as much anymore, now that you’ve married Daphne.” Beatrice glanced toward the ballroom. “She’s probably wondering where you’ve run off to.”

  Max spotted his beautiful lady, who was looking over at them with obvious curiosity about what they were discussing. He would have to share this with her later. He sent her a smile from across the room when she gave him a little flirtatious wave. “Yes,” he murmured, “it does appear I’m wanted.”

  The words were casual on the face of it, but the truth of them resonated into the depths of his soul.

  “Ah! Go to her.” Bea let him go with a doting pat on his cheek. “Your pesky sister’s done monopolizing you for now.” She turned and waved to Daphne.

  “Pesky. I suppose you are that.” Max laughed softly, gave his sister a peck on the forehead, and said he’d see her later.

  Then he went to rejoin his lovely mate.

  Dressed in royal blue, Daphne held out her hand to him as he approached her, the light from her eyes washing over him with an adoring gaze.

  He took her outstretched hand, but instead of pulling her closer, he suddenly paused, taking note of the music that was starting.

  She let out a wordless exclamation as he suddenly bent and kissed her knuckles with a Continental flourish of a bow. “My lady!” he declared in a formal tone. “As I recall, you have long owed me a dance.”

  A radiant smile burst across her face. He could see the thrill that came over her at his nearness, and he knew so well now that he was loved.

  “A debt I will pay gladly, my lord,” she declared with equal enthusiasm.

  The smiling, ever-watchful ton cleared a path for them as he escorted his lady to the dance floor, her delicate gloved fingers resting on his palm.

  His other hand, lightly fisted, was poised behind his back in formal fashion. Her chin was high, her step graceful, the slender curves of her body molded by her flowing gown.

  The rest of Society didn’t even bother to join them, but stood back and watched as the orchestra introduced a waltz.

  In the center of the gleaming dance floor, Daphne curtsied to her partner: Max bowed.

  With a twinkle of adoring love in her blue eyes, she rested her dainty right hand on his left shoulder. Max set his left hand o
n her waist. Staring into her eyes, he stretched out his right hand, opening his palm, much as he had opened his heart.

  She ran a small caress across his waiting palm as she joined her hand with his, the wonderful familiarity, the simple homecoming of her touch sending a frisson of passion through his body.

  The bright, graceful music washed over them, and they began to dance.

  Daphne gazed at him tenderly as the music swept them away, turning and gliding under the twinkling chandeliers; he could only stare into her eyes, until he had lost all awareness of the world watching them. There was only she, the utter joy of his life, his true love.

  As he whisked her smoothly around the ballroom in their timeless waltz, he knew they both agreed their dance, at last, had been well worth the wait.

  Oh, they make me sick, thought Albert Carew.

  At least he now outranked Rotherstone, but somehow, even his newly gained dukedom was cold comfort compared to the irritating happiness on their two faces.

  I’m getting out of here.

  As he walked out of the ballroom with his nose in the air, as usual, he enjoyed the bowing and scraping that was now his due, and yet, in truth, it was already growing rather stale.

  He went home, but a few seconds after he walked into his dimly lit library to pour himself a brandy, he suddenly felt a presence.

  He whirled around and spotted the outline of a man sitting idly, with his feet up, on Albert’s desk.

  “You!”

  “Hullo, Your Grace.”

  Albert’s heart instantly began to pound. The stranger had approached him once before only briefly, months ago, at the End of Summer Ball. “H-how did you get in here?”

  “Enjoying your new title?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, don’t be naïve.” The silhouette moved, lean and deadly. The man brought his feet back down onto the floor and rose from the chair.

  Albert swallowed hard. “What do you want?”

  “Merely your cooperation, as we discussed.” A wolfish smile flashed in the darkness.