He notched his shaft into her wet heat and plunged. Then gasped. She was so tight, but so lusciously welcoming. When he was embedded as deeply as possible, he stopped. “If I move I’ll end this too soon, and I want to make you come once more at least.”
“Come?” Her eyes were shining.
“That’s what it is generally called. I used that word with you before.”
“You remember that?”
“Every moment. Every second. Every thrust,” he said, matching action to words.
As he drove deeply, and she caught the rhythm, she gripped his shoulders, her mouth dropping open as she gasped his name.
He claimed her mouth, kissing her fiercely as he took her further and harder, until they were working as one. As he stroked into her, she met him, grinding her body against his. Her breasts quivered with each stroke, her nipples grazing his chest every time he came down on her.
When he found that spot inside her, he ensured his cock nudged it with every thrust. The effect stunned and delighted him. Clutching him so hard that she would leave marks, she quivered and pulsed, her body fiercely responding to him.
He could hold back no longer.
He barely drew out of her in time, and with a groan, spent himself on her stomach, each throb wrenching the soul from his body.
Hovering above her, his arms shook. Hair fell over his face when he hung his head, panting, trying to recover enough to grab the towel that lay within reach on the washstand. With an effort, he managed the feat, and wiped her clean before lying next to her and pulling her into his arms.
“Why did you do that?” Her features reflected her bewildered tone.
“What, sweetheart?” Sleep swept over him, the slumber of the sated male, but her question kept him awake.
“You know—on my stomach.”
“Ah. Well, we’ve agreed that we are not running away this time. Reconciling ourselves to our families could take some time and if—when—we have a child, I would prefer that its legitimacy is unquestioned. There’s still a risk of pregnancy, but I’ve done my best to reduce it.” Since he was awake now he kissed her.
Her fingers around his chin, the pressure of her body against him gave him more than enough to fight for.
Their lips parted and she sighed and rested against him. “I should like to remain here always.”
“The outside world would come knocking. Indeed, it’s a wonder this place has remained hidden from our people, since both our families are experts at uncovering matters people prefer to keep secret.”
“Yes.” She curved her arm around his waist. “Until recently Julius put all his energies into—” She broke off with a guilty gasp.
He chuckled. “I’ll say it first, shall I? My father knows that King James married Maria Rubio prior to his official marriage to Queen Maria Clementina. Then, after the Queen left him, he went back to his first love. Which makes the children from the marriage to Maria legitimate. Does that ease your mind that I know?”
“In a way,” she admitted. She stroked his stomach in a very distracting way. “But that was not all. Julius knows that you know. Our family and yours have different aims.”
“Not so much.” He glanced down and dragged the covers over their cooling bodies. “My father wants my brother or my sisters to marry one of the candidates, giving them a claim to the throne. Your family has been marrying them with alarming rapidity.”
“But we don’t want them to be monarchs.”
“True.” He should tell her the truth. “Which is why I’ve been helping your brother covertly. Although if you tell him, I doubt he’ll be grateful.”
She mumbled something into his shoulder, which he didn’t catch, and then moved her head away. “I think he knows. He’s puzzled.”
After smiling down at her like a loon, he kissed her.
“He found love again recently.”
“She’s not a daughter of the Old Pretender.” That was the original reason Julius had sought Eve out.
“I know. Your brother kindly let me know, in a roundabout way.” He sighed. “If I could find the original birth certificate between Maria and the King, I’d toss it into the flames. It has diverted my father badly. I would rather accept what we have and work with that. He still has the idealism of his youth.”
“Would you truly destroy it?”
He nodded. “The Stuarts will not come back. I’m convinced of that. Forcing a candidate from a dubiously legitimate marriage on to an unwilling populace is not the way to achieve it. She was a wise woman, Maria Rubio.”
“How so?”
“She loved King James, but she did not trust him or his advisors, so she sent the children away to be raised in secret. I believe she loved her children too much to force the issue. Don’t forget that at any time, she could have presented her certificate of marriage and claimed legitimacy for her children, but she chose not to.”
Helena raised a brow. “Chose? Or perhaps she was made to send them into exile to keep them secret? Now the secret is known in certain circles, the Young Pretender seems determined to find them first.”
He nodded. “And his intentions are murderous. Another reason to discover them before he does. What is done, is done, my sweet. We cannot go back, only go on, but the Restoration of the last century gave my father more ideas. It might happen. Who knows?” He gazed at her, his recovery well under way. His shaft sprang back into awareness, demanding attention like an eager child after a sweetmeat.
Regretfully he would have to deny it. “If we stay here, we’ll be doing more than discussing politics. We need a plan, sweetheart. I’m claiming you as my wife. No waiting, not anymore. I will speak to my father today.”
“I can find you more proof, if you wish.”
He turned her in his arms, bending to kiss her once more. “This will not be an easy path. We cannot expect to announce our marriage to our families and have them welcome us with open arms. It will take time, my love, for them to accept us. Are you ready for that?”
She nodded. “I don’t want to give my family up. If we have to live at a distance, so be it, but I can’t reject them completely. We might be able to mend the feud, or we might cause a temporary lull, but that is not likely, love. I suspect both our families will do all they can to reject us or negate the marriage.”
He hated the twinge of pain that crossed her features and the frown it put between her eyes. “Perhaps. But I will not give you up.”
“Nor I you.”
Chapter 14
Helena arrived back at Julius’s London house in time to dress for dinner. Still bathing in the glow of reconciling with Tom, she had hoped to gain her room without interruption, but as she passed the main salon on the first floor, Eve came out.
“Ah, Helena, I thought I heard you come in.” She appeared harassed, her usually smiling mouth in a thin line, and her eyes wary. “Could you spare a moment?”
Wondering what had happened, Helena followed Eve in. The gracious drawing room contained delicate French furniture upholstered in forget-me-not blue, and the wide windows let in any daylight available. In the midafternoon, the sun was beginning its decline to the horizon, but there was still plenty of light, enough for the wax candles in the sconces to remain unlit.
Unfortunately, the room also contained her mother and Julius, arms folded, grim-faced.
“I said an hour,” he said.
“You sound like my father.”
“He is upstairs. He’ll be joining us shortly,” her mother said.
Helena made her curtsey to her mother, who regarded her daughter with a jaundiced eye.
“Sir George is in Derbyshire, awaiting the birth of his firstborn. That child should have been yours.”
The notion repelled her even more now. “I’m happy for him, Mother. I’m also delighted that I had the good sense to reject him. We would never have suited.” She changed the subject briskly. “I am surprised to see you here, ma’am. Is this n
ot a distinctly unfashionable time of year to come to town?”
“Nevertheless, I know my duty,” her mother said. She folded her hands in the lap of her dark red afternoon gown. “I have come to take you home. I have had enough shilly-shallying, my girl. You have had all the time in the world to sort out your affairs, and you have failed to do so. Since you will have it, I have come to save you from yourself.”
Helena glanced at Julius, who motioned to a chair by the fire. Feeling trapped, she sat. Matters were coming to a head much faster than she had imagined. On the way home, she’d made her plan. She would tell Julius and Eve tomorrow morning and then let them prove anything they wanted, but she agreed with Tom. They would wait only as long as needful to inform their families of their intentions.
Sooner than that, if tonight was any indication. She lifted her chin defiantly. She would lie no more.
“The rumors have spread to Derbyshire,” Julius said gloomily. He strolled to the window, hands in the capacious pockets of his coat. “I can do no more. If you wish to continue with your plan to move to your own establishment, I will support you, but I cannot think it wise.”
“What rumors?” she demanded. “Oh, I know why, but I want to know precisely what they are saying.”
Julius turned around, the light casting him into shadow, but she could still see that his mouth was set in a grim line. “That you were trysting with Lord Alconbury in that inn last week. I have, at your request, neither confirmed nor denied the stories, but they have gone too far now for me to nip them in the bud.”
Her father stood in the doorway. He did not usually intervene in his wife’s management of the household and their children, but this time, here he was. “If you come home with us, I swear I will do everything in my power to protect you from malicious gossip. I will not have you subjected to that viciousness.”
“You are always welcome to stay with us, Helena,” Julius said softly from the other side of the room. “But things must necessarily change.”
“By which you mean I may no longer expect to attract a husband I may be comfortable with,” she said primly and then broke into a smile. She was bursting to tell them, but even more she wanted her mother to condemn herself even more.
“Are you glad?” The duchess bridled, positively drew herself up and trembled with rage. “Can you be happy that you are about to dwindle into overlooked and never-thanked spinsterhood? I daresay your father could find someone to marry you. After all, your portion is generous. But you can expect no more favors, and you will not have the pick of the crop, as you have before. We must work to restore your reputation, but it will not be easy, and by the time we have achieved it, you will be well past marriageable age. Is that clear enough for you, Helena?”
Julius groaned. “Why did you not allow me to cover this story? I have done it before.”
Ah, yes, with Connie, their cousin Alex’s wife. Connie was in direr straits than Helena had ever found herself, and not through any fault of her own. Julius had restored her reputation, simply by denying the events had ever taken place. He could not do that with Helena, not now. His silence had given tacit acceptance to the rumors flying around town, and obviously, the country, too. But they did not matter because she had won.
Julius deserved an answer. “Julius you’ve been unfailingly kind and patient with me. Thank you.”
Her brother inclined his head, but he stayed silent, giving her the floor.
“But you do not have to worry about me any longer.” She encompassed her mother in her glance and then fixed her attention on her father. “I am already married. I have been so for the last five years.”
* * * *
Tom waited until the following day to break the news to his father. While he grieved to bring any more distress to him, this task would not wait. Nor should it. He intended to busy himself finding a house for them for a few weeks, until they could decide what they wanted to do next. He had to admit that would depend on what their families wanted, because, although he would prefer to whisk his wife away to a private paradise of their own, that would have to wait.
Accordingly, he sought an interview with him before his father left the house the following morning. Breakfast was served at noon in London, but they were out and about before that. Tom had lodged a copy of the marriage certificate with the family’s London lawyer, apologizing for the late delivery. He would carry a picture of the way the clerk had reacted to the end of his days. The man had glanced at it, picked up his spectacles from the debris on his desk to take a closer look, and then glanced at Tom and back at the paper before he’d said, “Yes, my lord,” in such a wooden tone that Tom knew he was deeply affected.
The murmurs began even before he had cleared the office. The news would not be circulated from there, but by tomorrow London would know.
His father tended to remain in the house before breakfast, attending to necessary business and writing letters, so Tom was fairly confident of finding him the small office on the first floor, behind the main rooms. Sure enough when he tapped on the door, the irritable “Come!” told him his father was at home and not happy with whatever he was dealing with.
He would be even unhappier when Tom told him his news. However, if he heard the tidings from anyone else, the duke would probably have the kind of apoplexy that would affect his health. Tom loved him too much to risk that occurrence.
His father’s usually stern expression softened when Tom entered the room. He gestured to a chair. “Good morning, Alconbury. You have saved me from the tedious task of checking the list of candidates for the position of second footman.” He sighed. “I should leave such matters to Richardson, but I cannot say that I altogether trust him.”
“You trust nobody, Papa.” Tom drew up a chair and sat, holding the papers he’d brought with him.
“I have good reason. Kirkburton constantly sends spies to me.”
“And you do not send them to him? Or rather, to his son.”
His father carefully placed his pen in the stand and rolled his shoulders, leaning back in his well-worn but supremely comfortable chair. He refused to allow the dowager to replace it, claiming it was the best chair he’d ever sat in, and he would never find another. “I see you came armed. Is this new information, or something I’ve forgotten to discuss with you?”
Tom shook his head. He took his last look at his father, because in a moment their whole relationship would change. He greatly respected his parent for refusing to deny his wife and the cuckoo in his nest, but now he loved him more. “I’m sorry I have to bring this matter to your attention, sir.”
His father regarded the pile of unopened correspondence next to him with a grimace. “One more will not make a great difference. Out with it, boy!”
Tom could not resist a grin, despite the tension turning his insides into a small, painful knot. The epithet told him that his father was in an averagely good mood. “Do you remember when, five years ago, you told me the story of my birth?”
All notions of good temper disappeared. The duke took on the mien of an icicle. “Yes.”
“Because of that information, I terminated a relationship with someone I cared for very much.”
A little of the icicle thawed. The duke raised a brow. “I hope you were not shamed into it. You have nothing to be ashamed of, my son.”
Now that epithet he had used deliberately. “I know that. But thank you.” Now he was here, he did not know how to begin. He’d rehearsed a speech, but it left him now. His mind went blank to all but one fact. “Five years ago I married Helena Vernon.”
His father had rested his hands on his desk. Both hands clenched into tight fists.
“When you told me of my parentage, I immediately cut the relationship.” The remembrance of what giving up all his hopes had done returned to him with a sharp pang.
“Why would you marry her without asking me?”
The duke spoke mildly, but Tom was not deceived.
“
Papa, we fell in love before we realized who we were. I saw her and wanted her. She felt the same. Once I learned your secret, I assumed I had mistaken love of a brother for his sister. Obviously applying for an annulment was out of the question. I fell deeply in love with her. Then her mother tried to compel her to marry a man of her choosing, and she was deeply distressed. I claimed her before anyone else could.”
“Like picking a kitten from a litter?” The duke’s dry words pierced Tom to the heart.
“Like making sure of the woman who already had my heart.”
“But you cut off the connection? Then there is no harm done, is there?” his father said. “Is that why you refused to accept any of the young ladies your grandmother pushed your way?”
Tom nodded. “I tried, but I could not forget her. I kept away from her, but I knew I had hurt her greatly. I did not tell her why I had cut the connection. I only told her that our marriage was a sham. I could not bring that to her.” He looked away. Even recalling that time brought back the gnawing agony that had sliced into him for the last five years. “Why would I cause another person the same pain that I felt? I let her believe I’d had second thoughts, thinking the reputation our family has with hers would persuade her of my perfidy. It did not, but I still kept away.”
This time his father just nodded, but his hands relaxed a little.
“However, the recent incident brought us together again.”
“About that…” his father said.
“She was abducted by a man determined to take her to the border and marry her. I happened to be there when it happened, so I went in immediate pursuit. I could do nothing else.”
“In that I agree. No young woman deserves that fate.”
“Unfortunately I did not catch up with her until later, after dark, so her reputation was endangered. There was a fracas, which Lamaire and I did our best to quell, but the occupants of the taproom in the inn saw some of it and recognized Helena. I never made any secret of my identity.”
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