by Tamara Gill
“Your Grace,” she said in return, standing. “Are you enjoying the play?”
“I forget there is even a play as the theater holds so many other delights this evening.”
She blushed, and Lord Kinruth coughed, covering his grin with his hand. “I didn’t think you would attend,” he said.
“As you can see, I have.” He noted the absence of Isolde’s brother and her younger sister Victoria, and yet Lady Alice was there, her gaze one of contemplation.
“Out, while in mourning, Your Grace. Correct me if I’m wrong, but have the rules of polite Society changed so much to allow such a thing?” the duchess asked, watching him with contempt.
“Mama,” Isolde said, blushing furiously. “I’m sure His Grace has reasons for attending this evening.”
“I’m sure he does,” the duchess mumbled, taking her seat and giving them her back.
“I find myself equally surprised you’re here but glad that you are.” Isolde moved them to the back of the box to give them privacy. “I did not think gentlemen attended such entertainments when in mourning.”
He cringed, knowing how true that was. “You’re absolutely right, but I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.”
Isolde looked up at him, her beautiful green eyes widening at his words. How he wanted to take her into his arms and astonish her and her family even more. “I’ve shocked you.”
She nodded, biting her lip. “You have, Your Grace, but not in a bad way.”
“Merrick—no titles between us,” he whispered. He watched her with something akin to desperation. He needed to see her again, alone where there was no one to interrupt them. “When will I see you again? Just us?”
She looked back toward her family, and Merrick noted that although they spoke with others who visited their box, their attention constantly diverted toward them. “We cannot.” She frowned. “You’re newly widowed, and I’ve just broken my betrothal. The scandal would be too much, if we were caught. I have to think of my family and yours.”
Merrick could understand her concern. Hell, he had his own demons that haunted his every waking hour. He did not deserve a second chance, to be happy once more, not after his part in making Leonora’s life a living hell. But must they continue to be apart, if only to please others? To always do what was right and expected of them? He thought not.
The pain in Isolde’s eyes told him, more than words, that she loved him, wanted the same as he—for them to be together. If only they could make the choice and the ton could go hang with their so-called standards that left so many unhappy couples within that social sphere.
Hidden by Isolde’s gown, Merrick reached out and clasped her hand. Her fingers entwined with his, and her lips lifted in a knowing smile. “Please, Isolde.” He would beg if necessary and be damned who was about. The theater staff started coming in to turn down the lamps, signaling that the second act was about to begin. “Please think on it.”
Isolde slipped her hand free and patted the lapels on his jacket. “I will. I promise.”
Merrick stood back and allowed her to pass, not leaving until Isolde had regained her seat. He didn’t return to his box but left the theater and sat in wait in his carriage for the entertainment to be over. And then he would see what Isolde’s choice was and if he had any chance of winning her back.
Chapter Eighteen
They returned from the theater late, and Isolde potted about her room, as sleep eluded her. Merrick’s plea, and her insomnia, made his request hard to deny.
There was nothing more she wished than to lose herself in his arms. To let him sweep her off into the dream of them, but she could not. The risk was too great, for everyone, and she would not, no matter how much she cared for Merrick, place her family in the midst of another scandal.
The clock on her bedroom mantle chimed midnight and with it another day beckoned, filled with balls and parties that she no longer found interesting. With her betrothal to Wardoor at an end, and no other gentleman about town she wished to pursue, the Season loomed long and boring. Isolde rubbed her forehead, wondering what she should do versus what she wanted to do.
What a conundrum.
Isolde blew out the candles and slid under the blankets. The sheets were cool, and she rolled over, looking out toward the moonlit night. Not being able to sleep, she opened the drapes to see the stars, but with the moon so large on the horizon, it muffled the stars’ brilliance and took all the glory.
A creak of the floorboard outside her bedroom door made her start, and she sat up, clasping the blankets to her chest. No light shone under her door to explain the noise, and it was well past the time that the servants would be about.
Fear crept up her spine as her door silently opened, before the ghostly figure of a man she’d never thought to see in her own room quickly stepped into the space, shutting the door behind him. The flick of the lock sent tendrils of desire spiking through her.
“What are you doing here?” She didn’t move, just watched as he made his way toward her, the cloak, shrouding all but his face, dropping to the floor.
“If you’ll not come to me, I will come to you.” The deep baritone made the air in her lungs still.
Merrick was all muscular beauty and dark features that left her shivery with need. “Josh will murder you if he catches you here. You must leave.” She kneeled on the bed, pointing toward the door. He ignored her, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. So close she could almost touch him.
She wanted to touch him. To slide her hands against his perfect frame and marvel in his strength.
He pulled at his loosely tied cravat, dropping that, too, on the floor. He threw her a seductive grin that promised a night full of pleasure and sin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oh my… “Merrick, do be serious.” The mattress dipped as he, too, kneeled on the bed. Unconsciously, her hands reached out to touch his chest, his muscles flexing under her contact, and she swallowed the need that coursed through her hot and fast. A small voice at the back of her mind warned her that this was wrong. To travel down this path led to scandal and possibly broken dreams.
“Your brother is otherwise engaged. I checked on his whereabouts before coming here. As for the rest of your family, they’re asleep. No one will interrupt us.”
Heat pooled at her core, as his words and the meaning behind them became perfectly clear. “And pray tell, what exactly would they interrupt?”
His gaze raked over her and all thoughts of anyone but the two of them vanished. “Tonight, my beautiful Isolde, I intend to ruin you.”
Isolde clasped the hem of his buckskin trousers and pulled him close. Merrick’s hands came around her back, hauling her against his chest. Hard muscular planes met her through her light silk shift, and she shivered. Had it been only a few days since she’d been in his arms? Each hour had seemed a lifetime…
Merrick smiled, playing her like a pianist played a piano, to perfection and for his own enjoyment. He traced the line of her shoulder, flicking a tendril of hair out of the way before leaning down and kissing her beneath her ear. Isolde closed her eyes at the softness of his touch that left an ache in her chest. Yes, he knew exactly how to play her perfectly.
“I’ve missed you, Isolde. You promised to come see me again. You lied.”
His words were said with playfulness, but Isolde didn’t miss the steely tone. “I wanted to come. I did, but…”
“No more excuses.” He pushed her onto the bed, and she bounced, a laugh bubbling up inside her. Merrick watched her, a wicked edge to his gaze, before he crawled over her, pinning her to the spot. “Take off your shift, Isolde.”
Heat bloomed on her chest. “I cannot. I…”
“If you do not, I’ll rip it off. Unless you’re up to explaining your ruined unmentionables to your maid…” His hand ran up her stomach to clasp the underside of her breast. Their eyes met in the moonlit room as his fingers clenched about the shift, slowly pulling it down until her breast was bared.
“Merrick,” she gasped, her voice breathless. “Kiss me.”
With a little love bite to her breast, he moved up to meet her gaze. “As my lady wishes.” He took her mouth in a fierce kiss, and there was no turning back. The years spent apart fell away, and Isolde embraced all that he offered. She’d dreamed of such a night, and now it was finally here; Merrick was in her arms, just as he should be.
He sat back, and clasping her shift, ripped it down the front. Stunned, Isolde didn’t move, before she laughed at her ability to make him lose restraint. His heated gaze raked her body before halting at the apex of her thighs. Isolde writhed under his attention, wanting him to touch her where he looked.
Merrick ran a finger along her thigh, across her stomach, before sliding over her sex. She bit her lip, slick and achy, his touch when it went farther still, made her breath hitch. It was too much. Her body no longer her own.
Merrick let out a guttural groan, his touch sliding against her flesh became more insistent, more delicious. “I want you. Let me make love to you, Isolde.”
She lifted one of her legs to wrap about Merrick’s waist, pulling him down with her foot. She clasped his face, the slight prickle of a day’s growth tickling her palms. She adored him, had missed him beyond anyone or anything in her life. She nodded. “Yes. You may.”
…
At her words, Merrick ground his hips against her heat, the need to take her, to make her his, beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He moved to grasp her ass, helping her to push against him. The contact shot blood to his cock, and he hardened further. He took a deep breath, fighting for control. “Tell me you want me, Isolde.” He needed to hear her say the words. Needed to know she longed for him as much as he did her. In some small way, he needed reassurance that what they were doing wasn’t wrong. That he deserved her after all that had passed between them, after how he’d treated his wife. All the mistakes and wrongs he’d done over the years.
“I want you, Merrick.”
Her whispered reply made his soul soar. She was his, and he was hers. Always had been and, from this day forward, always would be. She fumbled with the buttons on his front falls, and the breath in his lungs stilled. Her saucy gaze met his before she slid her hand into his pants and stroked his cock. More confident this time and with a little knowledge of what he liked.
Holy hell, he’d never survive the night. He’d dreamed of making love to her, making them of one body as they’d always been of one mind. His breathing irregular, he pushed into her touch, wanting for this to never end.
“Help me.” Isolde understood his plea and aided him in pushing down his breeches. Free of restraint, he came over Isolde and kissed her hard, enjoying the delicious friction of his member against her sex. Her hands came about his nape, her eyes heavy with unsated desire.
“Stop teasing me, Merrick.”
Her words broke what little restraint he had left, and he took her in one smooth stroke. Isolde stilled beneath him, and he fought not to move, to give her time to adjust to him. His breath came out ragged and fast against her neck, and he kissed the little mole beneath her ear, soothing her as much as he could. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Her fingers threaded through his hair, dragging him back to look at her. “I’m not.” The pad of her thumb brushed his lip. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Isolde’s long, slender legs wrapped about his hips, pulling her to him, and he rocked into her. She fit him perfectly, the sweetest thing he’d ever possessed. Never would he have enough of her, and he’d known that from the first day they’d met. Isolde was his soul mate, his one true happiness in the world, and always would be.
Her hands clawed at his back, and he reveled in her pleasure. The smooth glide of their lovemaking increased, and with each thrust it became fiercer, overwhelmingly uninhibited. She bit her lip, and he muffled her moan with a kiss. Nothing else mattered but to give her pleasure, make her as crazed for him as he was for her.
“Merrick,” she panted, the air of her breath whispering against his cheek.
Their gazes held, and he pushed her on, took them toward a pinnacle of pleasure. He repeated her name, how much he loved her, had longed for her always. “You’re everything to me,” he said, kissing away a tear that slid down her cheek. “I love you, so very much.”
Her mouth opened on a sigh, and her shattering release pulled his own forth. Tremor after tremor rocked through to his very soul, and he lost himself for a moment within her arms. They lay like that a minute, both panting, neither willing to move. Merrick rolled beside her and smiled as she nestled into the crook of his arm.
“I know you love me, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s enough.”
“What do you mean?” Unease ran through him at her words, and he remained silent as he waited for her response.
“You are probably the only person in the world who knows me better than my own family. And you know I always try to do the right thing. I captured your heart at a country dance, without even having to have a Season in Town. How very clever of me, don’t you think?” She threw him a self-deprecating look.
“I believe it was I who courted you that night, not the other way around.”
Isolde clasped his hand. “I’m not the oldest of my siblings, but they all look up to me. I’m the sister who always sees both sides of any situation, doesn’t judge or give criticism, but looks on things with both pros and cons and then decides which way would be best. I removed myself from Wardoor, my second betrothal, which the ton is unlikely to forgive or forget. I cannot bear to think what my family or Society will say if I marry you. A duke still in mourning, his wife not two months gone.”
Merrick sat up to lean on the headboard. “What are you saying? That you will not marry me? I’ve ruined you, Isolde,” he reminded her.
She sat up also, kneeling beside him. “You must see it’s not possible. Not at the moment, at least.”
Words eluded him for an instant, before he said, “When then?”
“A year. You’ll be out of mourning, and by then the ton will have forgotten about my engagement with Wardoor, or at least, found something else to amuse them.”
Merrick slid from the bed, anger coiling about his insides. “Why do you care what the ton thinks? Are you not the same woman who only weeks ago told me I deserved to be happy? That Leonora’s death wasn’t my fault?”
“Yes, but—”
“There is no but in this decision. I love you, Isolde. I want you to be my wife. No more waiting for when Society thinks we should marry. I want to marry you now.” He stared at her a moment, willing her to let everyone who had no bearing on them to go hang. “Marry me, please.”
She shook her head. “I want to marry you, Merrick. I do, but I cannot. Not yet. You have to give us time. Please,” she said, following him to where he stood, heedless of their nakedness. “Just do this one thing for me. I’ve put my family through so much already. I can’t foist an understanding with you on them. My brother will need time to come around. You know he still thinks you guilty of your crime against me with Leonora.”
Merrick pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt, throwing it over his head, heedless if it was on backward or not. “I’m sick of paying for other’s mistakes, other’s choices. You know the truth of that night with Leonora. What does it matter what your brother or anyone believes?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and he clenched his jaw, pain severing through him like a sword. “Do you love me?”
Her silence was deafening. Merrick walked to the door, pausing when he grabbed the handle. “You know where I am when you’re ready, or when you believe Society is.” He left without another word, striding down the hallway, heedless of how loud his footsteps were. He shook his head, not believing what had just occurred. Isolde was well known for her strong conviction, and if she believed this was the correct course for her, no one, not even he, could talk her out of it.
At the base of the stairs he turned and headed toward the back of the house, and the servants’ stairs that led to the kitchens below. Twelve months loomed ahead of him, unbearable months that he couldn’t be with her. How would he ever survive it? He cringed, knowing he would, for when had he not done what Isolde wished? He would do it for her, even if it was intolerable.
Chapter Nineteen
The following week, Merrick lounged in a settee at Lord Statton’s home, the gentleman hosting a coming-out ball for his daughter, Madeline, and Moore’s first cousin. It was an event that, even in mourning, he refused to miss, no matter what gasps and glares he received from the ton.
The fire crackled in the hearth as he waited for Wardoor, whom he’d summoned to join him. The rumor mill about town was rife with scenarios as to why Isolde had cried off from the wedding. The most disturbing whisper was the one he wanted to discuss above all else—his love had endured enough heartache over the past five years. He wouldn’t allow any more to darken her soul.
And then, once Wardoor was dealt with, he would try to amend his mistake with Isolde. He should not have walked out on her after they’d just made love. Was he insane? Isolde was entitled to her beliefs, even if they were the opposite of his own, and he should have respected that more.
I love her.
Wardoor stumbled into the room, and Merrick stood, frowning when two women who could only be termed whores strode in after him. Their gowns gaped at the front, their hair askew and knotted. “I do believe I summoned only you, Wardoor. Your friends may leave.”