Lost In Love (Road To Forever Series #1)

by Louisa Cornell

  “Adelaide, let me in.” Good Lord, now he was at the door into the hall. She raced across the thick carpets and turned the key in the lock. “Adelaide.”

  “Go to bed, Your Grace. I am sure Romulus and Remus would love to join you.” A hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, she went to the dresser and began to open and close the drawers in rapid succession.

  A series of unintelligible growls and curses filtered through the carved oak from the hall. One last flourish of her wardrobe door and Adelaide flitted across the room and leapt into the luxurious comfort of her bed. She had already snuffed the candles on the mantel and Bess had banked the fire before she left. The room glowed from the flickering fire and the warm light of the lamp on her bedside table. It took a moment to plump her pillows to the perfect consistency behind her. She retrieved her gift from Anne, a heretofore forbidden to her novel by Mrs. Radcliffe, and settled in to read.

  After a time, she glanced up at the mantel and realized she had been staring at the same page for the last half hour. It was too quiet. Her little game had backfired. Rather than continue to bang on the door and beg her forgiveness, it appeared Marcus had actually gone to bed. Adelaide huffed loudly and pulled the comforter more snugly to her waist.

  “Well that’s simply perfect. I am packing to leave him and he goes back to bed.” She drummed her fingers on her now closed book. “You would think he would at least tell me he doesn’t intend to sleep until I promise not to leave.” The crackle of the fire and the wind playing on the window panes behind the drapes were her only answer.

  A final look at the clock told her it was well past one in the morning. High time she went to sleep if she intended to make Marcus beg her forgiveness and plead with her to stay in the morning. She punched the pillows into submission and returned Mrs. Radcliffe to the night table before turning out the lamp.

  The bed was too big and too cold. In only a week she had grown quite accustomed to Marcus’s warmth at her back. The shelter of his arms made her feel safe from all the unknown fears of the dark. It was going to be a long night.

  As he sat draped over the chair Adelaide had vacated hours before, Marcus studied the amber liquor which swirled in the bottom of the crystal balloon in his hand. The light from the fire danced in its waves and eddies. He wasn’t quite foxed, a little muzzy-headed perhaps, but not foxed.

  Still, he hoped the fear and worry which tugged at him was the result of one too many brandies. If not, if it was real, then his bride of one week had packed her bags, and in the morning, she would make good on her threat. He had said she would leave, but he never expected it to be quite so soon. He didn’t expect a great deal of what Addy made him feel. Perhaps that was why he was making such a hash of it. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

  Some unknown villain threatened to expose his brother’s darkest secret. A threat to the family name and to the valet, Jeffries, as well. And the bastard had even hinted he might drag Addy’s name into the scandal. Discovering this blackmailer’s identity and retrieving the evidence he had should be Marcus’s first duty. Instead, he was making a hash of his marriage and behaving like a besotted schoolboy.

  He stood and set the brandy on the mantel. The dogs, which had been asleep at his feet, stood at once and looked at the dressing room door. To his immense embarrassment, he crept quietly over to it and listened. A turn of the knob and he knew it was still locked. He had not heard a sound from Addy’s room for over an hour, but he knew she was still in there. At least he thought he knew.

  “How about it, boys?” He looked down at the dogs as they came to join him. “Is she still in there?” A few soft raps drew no response. “The little termagant has gone to bed. I think I’ll do the same.”

  His steps were only a bit unsteady as he moved to sit on the bed. It took a few tries, but he managed to remove his boots and stockings. With a little more effort, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and drew it off before he fell back across the thick silk comforter. He stared at the dark green canopy and frowned.

  She had no right to go to bed. Nothing had been resolved. It was true he had insulted, offended, and hurt her. He had, however, apologized. Repeatedly. Surely that meant something. Perhaps she had decided to sleep on it and forgive him in the morning. Probably the most prudent course. They had both been angry and said things they did not mean. Addy was a very sensible and sweet-natured girl. After a good night’s sleep, she would undoubtedly see how foolish her threat was. They would both be in a better frame of mind and be able to discuss her friendship with Crosby like two mature adults.

  “Christ.” Marcus flung his arm over his eyes and groaned. “She’s driving me mad.” A cold wet nose snuffled into his hand. He lifted his arm and opened his eyes to glance at the twin hairy beasts observing him from the side of the bed.

  “Don’t worry, boys.” Marcus sat up and gave each furry head a pat. “She’s angry, but she won’t leave. No proper lady creeps out of the house in the middle of the night, even if she has packed for the journey.”

  Proper lady? A vision of Addy, barefoot at her wedding breakfast, came to mind. It was quickly replaced by an image of her face when he’d made his vicious remark as to why the servants liked her. He looked at the locked door. Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

  She would leave him. Addy was a very independent woman. Her family, for all the noise and arguments, were close. They would welcome her back with open arms, the way he should have welcomed her, instead of pushing her away. Once she made it to Smythe Hall those brothers of hers would close around her like palace guards. Crosby would probably be there as well. Marcus might well never see her again.

  Crosby would be there.

  Marcus’s stomach burned at the thought. He stood and drew his shirt off over his head. It didn’t help. His skin felt as if ants had invaded just below its surface. The idea of Addy in the arms of the lecherous young reprobate made him want to howl. A sharp pain shot up his arms. He glanced down to see his fists clenched and realized the pain was from his own nails digging into his palms.

  “We’ll just see about this.” Marcus marched over to the dressing room door and raised his hand to knock. Some unseen force stopped him. He stood there, poised to bang at the door, in complete silence. The only sound was the wind at the windows and the quiet pants of the dogs which had padded to stand at his side.

  What was he doing? If he confronted Addy in his present state he knew no good would come of it. His barely leashed temper roared like the beast it was, anxious for some prey to tear into and destroy. He lowered his hand and turned back to his bed. The polished handles of the tall boy across the room winked in the candlelight. With purposeful steps Marcus crossed to it and began to search the various drawers.

  “Aha!” he cried once he found what he sought. The dogs must think him mad to keep traversing the rug-covered floors in such a fashion. He fitted the key he’d found into the lock and secured the door from his side of the dressing room he shared with his wife. “She won’t be sneaking out that way, now will she, boys?” Wagging tails and lolling tongues were his reply.

  He dropped the key onto bench at the foot of his bed and started to remove his breeches. Whilst Remus settled down on the rug before the hearth, Romulus settled himself in his usual post across the threshold of Marcus’s bedroom door.

  “Damn,” Marcus muttered. He refastened his breeches and snatched a pillow and the comforter from his bed. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adelaide awoke confused and disoriented. Marcus was having a nightmare again. Where was he? Her hand searched in the dark for her husband’s shoulder to shake him awake. He wasn’t there. She rubbed her hands over her face in an effort to get her bearings. Of course. She was in her bed in the ducal suite at Winfield Abbey. Alone in her bed, to be more precise. A muffled thump and a repeat of the cry that had awakened her led her to push the bed curtains wide and set her feet to the thick carpet.

  The words were garbled and
distant, but she knew the sounds of her husband’s haunted dreams. She could hear well enough to make out “Julian,” “don’t go,” and “I didn’t mean it.” What puzzled her was how she was able to hear them at all across the expanse of her bedroom, the large dressing room, and Marcus’s bedroom as well.

  Another thump, this time louder, clarified the matter. The noises were coming, not from the dressing room, but from her private sitting room. At the sound of her own name, followed by an angry muddle of words, Adelaide hurried to snatch the door open into the rest of her suite.

  A large bundle of what appeared to be bed linens tumbled onto her feet. She clapped her hand over her mouth and muffled a startled shriek. The covers fell away to reveal Marcus, asleep across her bedroom doorway. Why would he do this? Her breath caught in a painful gasp. Tears burned in her throat and eyes. Adelaide sank slowly to her knees. She touched her hand to his bare shoulder and gently rocked him.

  His eyes blinked open instantly. Even as he rose to his feet, she knew he wavered in the place between wakefulness and sleep. She stood and rested her fingertips on his chest. His muscles rippled to her touch. She saw something wondrous and frightening in his eyes. Adelaide reached to caress his face. Marcus’s calloused hand shot out to grip her wrist.

  “You will not leave.” His voice was a low growl, thick with raw emotion. At once she knew. There was a storm brewing in those green eyes, sweeping across the landscape of his face like an invading army.

  “Marcus.” At the sound of his name on her lips, the storm broke.

  Like a squall coming in from the sea, he swept over her. He caught her in an embrace so fierce she could scarcely breathe. His lips crashed down on hers laying waste to any thought she had of wit or reason. She was vaguely aware of his savage kick to close the door. He swept her into his arms high against his chest and limped to the bed, never breaking the ferocious kiss he’d started.

  She sank into the feather mattress. His weight followed her down and her body arched to meet his. Her hands fisted in the silky black hair at the back of his head. She held him fast even as his lips seared across her cheek and down her tender throat. Whatever questions she had disappeared in the flames of his hunger, his need.

  Adelaide gasped as his lips found her nipple through the sheer fabric of her nightrail. His teeth worried the berried tip even as his lips suckled her to the point of exquisite pain. He raised his head with a gasp of his own. The eyes that stared into hers were filled with a collage of fierce emotions—passion, fear, desire and pain. She pressed her palm to his scarred cheek and he turned to sear it with a fierce kiss.

  His hands found the hem of her nightgown and in one swift move, pulled it over her head. With a quick jerk he divested himself of his breeches and smalls. She felt his fingers press into her naked hips as he pushed her further across the bed. Shivers of pleasure danced up her legs as he ran his fingers from her knees to her breasts.

  He paused to cup and knead them gently before his fingers traveled back down to the tops of her thighs. His body glistened in the low light of her bedside lamp. She leaned up to run her hands over the smooth muscles of his shoulders, his arms. He ran his thumbs in tiny circles over her tingling skin, closer and closer to the v of honey-colored curls.

  Adelaide pressed her lips to his fevered flesh. The tang of salt mixed with the powerful taste of Marcus alone infused her senses. She ran her teeth across the juncture of his shoulder and throat. A low guttural moan vibrated in his chest and teased her breast as it was pressed there. His breath came in soft pants that teased her sensitized skin.

  He turned his head and brought his lips to hers, softly this time. His tongue traced the curve of her mouth before it flicked at the seam, a plea for entrance. She nipped at his lips before opening hers for his kiss. Their tongues mingled in slow sensuous movements as he pressed her back onto the bed. She was not ready when he broke away and trailed his tongue down the center of her body in one long, hot sweep.

  His powerful hands pushed her thighs apart and slipped beneath them to raise them to his shoulders. Adelaide lifted her head to look down her body. Marcus paused, his mouth curved in a half smile over the place that even now wept for his touch.

  “Marcus, what are you…” Her question ended in a sharp squeak. Not one night in her weeklong wedding trip had he kissed her… there.

  Heat like nothing she had ever felt before rushed from the tip of his tongue to the top of her head. It washed over her body in a fiery wave. It was too much. Her body arched and wiggled, half in an effort to get away from his merciless ministrations, half to get closer. With lips and teeth and tongue he feasted on her, pressed her to the very brink of completion and then soothed her screaming flesh before the torture started all over again.

  Adelaide’s throat constricted against the fevered cries and mewling moans Marcus drew from her. Her hands pulled at the bedclothes. She ran her feet down the corded muscles of his back. His tongue found the hooded button at the heart of her mons. His lips curled around it and he gripped her hips to hold her in place whilst he drove her in ever higher spirals.

  Her inarticulate cries echoed all around them. Marcus’s greedy growls sent quivering vibrations into her channel until she was awash in the sounds and scents and sensations of a climax so powerful she could only scream his name over and over helplessly.

  Marcus kissed his way up her body. He laced his fingers with hers. Adelaide squeezed his hands in time with the pulsing spasms that shook her. She opened her mouth in a wordless cry when he slid his thick length into her eager sheath. Her legs wrapped around his lean hips. She tilted her body into his relentless thrusts as he drove her to the precipice once more.

  Her senses locked in a shattering of light as her mind followed her body into golden delirium. Marcus threw back his head, the corded muscles in his neck bulged as he cried her name in release. A rush of liquid heat suffused her very soul as his head fell to rest beside hers.

  From the moment she said his name this was what he sought—complete and utter possession. Nothing in their week of marriage prepared her for the consuming passion that gripped her body. He took her now like a conqueror and left it in no doubt. She was his and his alone and he would bind her with the only cords he understood, cords of flesh and fire.

  Adelaide stroked his damp hair and turned her face to kiss his temple. The room was warm and quiet save for the sound of their labored breathing. Whilst her extremities were cooling, beneath Marcus’s comforting weight the rest of her was snug and languidly soft.

  Her hands moved from his hair to his back and shoulders and lower to the smooth marble-like contours of his buttocks. How she loved to touch him, to explore the muscle and sinew of his frame. He might claim her with fierceness and an overwhelming assault of her senses, but Adelaide chose to tie him to her with gentle touches and a willing acceptance of his passions.

  Marcus stirred slightly and pulled the coverlet over them in a clumsy motion. He reached down and took the hand that rested on his hip. When their fingers were laced once more he pushed their linked hands beneath the pillows.

  “You will not leave.” His eyes burned in the low light of the bedside lamp. His voice was rough.

  “No, Marcus. I won’t leave.”

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head to the crook of her neck. His deep sigh brushed against her skin. In moments, he was asleep.

  In those four words, he explained why she’d found him asleep across her bedroom door. To anyone else his terse tone and clipped words were an order. Her heart heard it for what it was, the deepest fear of a man who feared nothing. She had been angry and hurt. Her threat, however, had been just that, a threat. She had played a foolish game with her husband to teach him a lesson. What it taught her, might well serve them both.

  *

  Adelaide rolled over and cracked one eye in an effort to gauge the time before she decided if she really needed to get out of bed. It was a tactic she had used even as a child. No matter what one’s age, s
ome days were simply better spent in bed. The sliver of light from between the drapes told her she really should not linger. Duchesses were allowed to rise whenever they wished, but there was no need to abuse the privilege.

  A long luxurious stretch made its way up from her pointed toes to her flexed fingertips. Sweet aches and tingles touched the places where Marcus’s passion had branded her. He’d awakened her just before dawn to lavish her with a gentle lovemaking as tender as his earlier one was passionate. The words he murmured, the way he looked at her; she found it difficult to reconcile the considerate lover with the man who was so cold and cruel earlier.

  “Oooh,” she groaned. Adelaide turned onto her stomach, snuggled more deeply under the covers and pulled the pillow over her head. “Why do men have to be so indecipherable?” Speaking of indecipherable, where was Marcus? She swept her hand across what she discovered was the vacant side of the bed. At the same instant she raised her head to search the room, a stinging smack was delivered to her bottom. With a loud shriek, she rolled over to confront her attacker.

  “Out of bed, duchess.” Marcus delivered his command with a condescending smirk. He snatched the coverlet and sheets back and strode to the window to open the drapes.

  Adelaide shielded her eyes with one hand and rubbed her bottom with the other.

  “You have a busy day ahead of you, duchess.”

  “Had I known you were a wife-beater, sir, I would not have accepted your proposal.” She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “What is it I am to be busy about, Your Grace? I don’t recall any urgent plans for today.”

  “Which proposal would that have been, Addy? The first, or one of the other six?”

  Adelaide stretched again and left the bed to pad naked across the floor in search of her nightrail and wrapper. She glanced over her shoulder at Marcus. It was all she could do not to laugh at his expression. His face was flushed and his eyes glazed. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. She might be new to passion, but Adelaide was a quick study. A strange heretofore dormant instinct allowed her to be completely comfortable clad only in her hip-length hair and a smile. Perhaps it was the fact it made Marcus utterly uncomfortable.