Wickedly Ever After

  Glinted? He froze, staring at a spot in the rocks under her hair.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her expression changing.

  “Don’t move,” he said, and reached into the water a few inches from her left ear. He pulled something up, water dripping from his fingers onto her neck.

  “What is that?” she asked, unable to see with the sun in her eyes.

  He turned it over in his hand.

  “It’s gold.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Let me see it.”

  Athena sat up and took the pebble from his hand. The nugget was the size of her fingernail and shaped like an eagle’s beak. It was rough and lackluster. If it was gold, it looked as if somebody had chewed it up and spat it back out.

  “Look!” Marshall cried, picking up another rock. “Here’s another one!”

  Athena took it and marveled at the two stones in her hand. “Is this real?”

  He cocked his head. “I’d say those two rocks would be worth about ten pounds.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Ten pounds? For these two pebbles?”

  Marshall scanned the riverbed for more. “Mm-hmm. Your little patch of land seems to be worth a lot more now than you first thought.”

  She closed her eyes, mentally putting the mysterious puzzle pieces back in their rightful place. “No wonder my parents had to have this land, whatever the cost. They knew there was a fortune here.” She shivered uncontrollably, just as much from the cold as from the memory of her parents’ stolen lives. “Well, these little rocks won’t do me much good if I freeze to death. I’m going back to the carriage.”

  Reluctantly, Marshall followed. Though the sun was high in the sky, the furious Highland wind was freezing him to his sopping clothes.

  She jumped into the coach and wrapped the warm woolen lap blanket around her quivering shoulders. Moments later, Marshall came to the coach and guided it to a grassy spot so the horses could graze. He stripped off all his clothes from the waist up, and hung them on the thill of the carriage.

  “Take off your dress,” he said through the carriage window.

  She frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  He pursed his lips. “If you give me your clothes, I’ll hang them out here to dry.”

  She was pierced by a stab of embarrassment. Even though she and Marshall had already made love, he had never seen her in the nude in broad daylight. Begrudgingly, she peeled off her wet spencer and outer dress, and handed it to him. Modesty forbade her to remove her shift or corset.

  A few moments later, he jumped inside the carriage, the picnic hamper under his arm. Athena let her eyes drink their fill of his magnificent torso, a huge triangle of muscle narrowing into a small waist.

  “It’s blowing up a freeze out there. I haven’t felt this cold since the Duchess of Twillingham came to visit me.”

  Athena inhaled sharply. “To press Calvin’s suit.”

  “Yes. Had you told her of your dowry here in Scotland?”

  Athena nodded.

  “Who else knew about Kildairon?”

  Athena’s eyebrows knitted. “Well . . . Grandfather.” She began enumerating them on her fingers. “Hester. The Duchess of Twillingham. Calvin Bretherton . . . and his parents. Not counting my own mother and father, of course.”

  “Did any of them know the land had gold ore?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even know it had gold. I’m sure Grandfather didn’t know, or he would have told me. Besides, he’d been against the purchase of the land from the start, and has been complaining about it every time he’s had to pay the land taxes.”

  “And Calvin Bretherton?”

  Athena shrugged. “As you say . . . if he wanted to marry me, it had to be for my dowry.”

  Regret twisted Marshall’s face at Athena’s expression. “Well, if he did know about your gold, I doubt he would have ever called off his suit—remember that he told your grandfather he wanted to marry someone else. I doubt he’d have been so cavalier about your dowry if he had known what he was forgoing. Clearly, he only renewed his betrothal at someone else’s behest.”

  “The Duchess of Twillingham? She was trying to help me win Calvin. She was acting on my behalf.”

  “Maybe she made you think she was acting on your behalf. Maybe she was orchestrating this marriage right from the very beginning.”

  Athena’s eyebrows drew together, remembering that the duchess came to offer her unsolicited help in winning Calvin over. “But what would the duchess stand to gain by our union? Upon my marriage to Calvin, my dowry would have become Calvin’s property.”

  “Thus making it easier for him to turn it over to the duchess.”

  “But why would he do that?”

  He leaned back in the seat. “I don’t know. Maybe Bretherton is somehow obligated to the duchess. Maybe they struck a bargain that upon your marriage, he gets Kildairon and sells it to her. Whatever the reason, my thoughts are pointing to the notion that there was some sort of scheme concocted between them to get Kildairon . . . before there was a scheme between you and the duchess to get Calvin.”

  Athena was lost in thought. The thought of a hidden conspiracy dizzied her. “But how did the duchess find out about the gold?”

  “I don’t know . . . but it really doesn’t matter. Because now, the choice is entirely up to you.”

  He reached over into the basket to pull out the bread and cheese, and she caught a glimpse of his scarred back.

  “What choice?” she asked.

  “You may still determine what your future will be. These hills are full of gold. Your own personal buried treasure. That makes you a very wealthy woman, once you mine it.” He handed her a plate of cold sliced meats. “It also makes you the most attractive prospect on the marriage mart. After all, you are still a free woman. You can marry Calvin . . . or you can marry me.” He pulled the cork out of the bottle of wine, and poured it into two rustic pottery cups. “Or you can even choose to stay unmarried, and keep all that wealth to yourself.” He handed her a cup. “Now that you’re in full possession of your options, what will you choose to do?”

  She took the proffered cup and looked Marshall in the eye. “Why are you saying this to me?”

  He stared back at her. “I want you to marry me not because I forced your hand, but because it’s your choice. I need to know if I am the man you want.”

  She gazed out of the window. Outside, there was a field full of flowers, their petals waving in the breeze. An insect zoomed from one flower to the next, sampling the flavor of each in a restless search for nourishment. Then she saw a butterfly take off in wobbly flight. Her new wings were graceless in movement, but there was direction to her journey. And though it took longer for the butterfly to get to her destination, she knew precisely which bud offered the sweetest nectar.

  Athena’s eyes traveled back to his. There was an intense look on his face. He held the cup on his knee, frozen in anticipation. There was no bravado, no pretense. Only a nervous quickening of his breathing.

  “Calvin was the first man I ever loved. He’s the man of my dreams.”

  Marshall inhaled deeply, his eyebrows knitting together. His gaze fell to the untouched cup.

  “But that’s all he was. Just a dream. Not like you. You are real. A real man.”

  A hint of a smile played on his lips.

  “When I look at you, Marshall, everything stops. I’m no longer a shattered person. The pieces of who I am come together in such a way that I finally make sense. And that’s because I have begun to breathe for you. It’s inconceivable to me how you loved me even when there was so little of me that was lovable.” Athena leaned forward. “I can’t imagine life with Calvin. Or life on my own, regardless of how much money I have. And when I think of the word ‘mine,’ I don’t think of gold. I think of you.”

  His expression grew tender and proud at the same time. “Now those are the kind of words I like hearing from your lips.”

  She got up and sat next to
him, and extended her woolen blanket around his shoulders.

  He enfolded her in his arms. “Know what else I like hearing from your lips?” he whispered.

  She looked up at him quizzically. “Hmm?”

  He smiled rakishly. “Something like that.”

  He touched his open mouth to hers, captivating her with its heated wetness. Slowly, he smoothed his lips over hers, as if he were savoring a juicy fruit, and she melted from the sultry pleasure.

  “Mmm,” she mouthed absently into his.

  He smiled. “That’s more like it.”

  He shifted, and Athena could almost have killed him for taking away the warmth from her back. “Don’t move,” she protested. “I’m cold.”

  “I know another way to keep ourselves warm.” He pulled her onto his lap, grinning wickedly as he wrapped his arms around her middle. Her thin chemise was pasted to her skin, revealing every curve and contour of her body. One hand went to her back and pulled at the wet strands of her corset.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making us more comfortable.” As he deftly yanked the strings from their eyelets, the stays in her corset slackened.

  He hardly blinked as he watched her face. With each cross-tie unfastened, her breathing became easier and her movements freer. Nevertheless, her heart began to beat faster as she realized that the loosening garment would soon fall away altogether.

  He stopped halfway down her back, and brought his mouth to her barely covered breast. The hot lips sizzled on her cool skin, focusing all her senses on that one spot. His other hand drew tight swirls on her back, making her body tingle from the sensation. Again his lips descended onto the ridge between her breasts, searing both of them at the same time. The slow torture was working its effect on her. Her inhibitions were being annihilated, kiss by tantalizing kiss.

  The air in the carriage grew progressively warmer as the close heat of their bodies began to steam away the moisture. A scorching kiss on her exposed shoulder made her shudder from warm pleasure.

  As he tugged on the last length of her corset’s ties, the garment had become an odious barrier rather than a protective covering. The thing collapsed and fell away.

  Instinctively, she clutched the blanket to herself. Though she was comfortably free of the constricting stays, her modesty still protested. The sun shone through the carriage window, illuminating her body through the sodden, wrinkled chemise.

  He made no effort to remove the blanket. But his blue eyes bored into hers, as if trying to break down the barriers in her mind. He had never beheld her body before, and it terrified her to even consider he might be repulsed by her. The abundant curves that many young men had rejected. The fullness of her figure, which Calvin had abandoned. This body that had helped to keep her unmarried and alone for so many years.

  He kissed her tenderly and lovingly, maddening her with the painstaking slowness, helping her win the battle against her own reservations. For the first time, she was able to appreciate the feel of his body. As he cuddled her on his lap, she relished the sensation of his massive arms on either side of her. His thighs, long enough to seat her, pressed firmly against her buttocks. The hard chest against which she lay was molded with muscle she longed to touch.

  His kisses wended down her neck, and the vine of erotic sensation descended to a spot between her legs. A single hand cupped her face, and she turned to kiss it. Those large hands, callused from labor aboard ship, were mesmerizing to her. She didn’t know which she wanted more . . . to touch them or be touched by them.

  But that same hand traveled down to the hem of her chemise, peeling it off her legs. When the air made contact with her skin, the crease deepened between her brows. But that large hand, so warm and strong, caressed a heated path up to her thighs, and her frown evaporated. It felt as if he were slowly bringing her to life . . . and she felt it strongest in the crevice between her legs.

  But he was feeling it too. The rising pressure beneath her thigh told her she was not the only one enjoying their closeness. His rearing cock made her believe that whatever the other men had thought of her figure, this man felt aroused by it. Slowly, her reservations were being squeezed out by her growing confidence.

  She brushed her hand along his hair, which spiked and curled chaotically. The water had exaggerated the varying shades, exploding it into a prism of yellows and golds. So beautiful, she thought. And yet his vibrant hair and vivid eyes only hinted at the stunning man inside.

  “Sit over there,” he said, his voice hoarse with leashed passion. She shifted herself over to the seat facing his. He knelt before her, his wide chest nearly spanning the carriage. With one hand, he pushed away her arm that still clutched the blanket, leaving her exposed to his eyes.

  She watched his eyes dance down the length of her body. His expression became grave, focused, and his accelerated breathing indicated his mounting arousal. His hands came to rest on her thighs, slowly pushing upward on the tissue of her chemise until the fabric went over her head and puddled on the carriage floor. His mouth fell upon her breasts, devouring the untouched nipples until she was panting for his cock. The remembered sensation of being filled by him tantalized her fevered brain.

  Her whole naked body was open to his touch, and he made full use of his hands. There once was a time when she feared what her thighs would look like during lovemaking, but the vanity was drowned out by what her thighs felt like at the hands of this man. Between her relaxed thighs he brought his hand, and she gasped at the sensation of someone else’s fingers between her folds. Who knew that men could be so gentle? Every caress was itself a profession of love. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tempting hers to spar with him. All the while, his fingers were also dancing inside her, and she nearly swooned from the pleasure of the double penetration.

  The skilled fingers gently caressed the pearl between her legs, experimenting with different rhythms and strokes until he found the one that made her moan. Patiently, maddeningly, he maintained that stroke until her body was begging for release.

  As her pleasure mounted, it occurred to her that the first time they had made love, it was an act of taking. This time, it was an act of giving, making it infinitely more enjoyable. But she was not about to enjoy this intense pleasure alone.

  “Stop,” she breathed, and the interrupted friction from his nimble fingers left the nub throbbing in protest. Panting, she waited to float back to earth so that she could make a coherent sentence. “Sit over there,” she repeated.

  His intense expression sprouted a smile. With a wonderful economy of movement, his body reversed onto the facing seat. She knelt between his legs, and the wanton position gave her an intense erotic thrill. Slowly, she unbuttoned his trousers, and the rigid pole of his penis pushed aside the flap.

  “I’ve always wanted to touch you here. May I?”

  His relaxed grin spread. “Far be it from me to disappoint a pretty redhead.”

  In daylight, she was able to see his penis so much clearer. The long shaft was covered by veins, just like his muscled forearms, but the skin was infinitely softer. It was a strange dichotomy—something so hard enveloped in something so soft. The knob at the end was amazingly large, and she marveled at the fact that she was able to fit this into her body. She caressed the soft nest of wiry hairs that surrounded his penis, and touched the sack underneath it.

  After a few moments, Marshall interrupted her. “Is something wrong?”

  The apples of her cheeks darkened. “Well, Lord Rutherford taught us one way to do this, but Mr. Gallintry showed us another, and I was trying to decide which one is right.”

  With a low growl, he took her by the arms and brought her astride him. “I don’t give a damn the way Rutherford or Gallintry would have you do anything. Let me show you what I like.”

  Her knees fell on either side of his hips. Guided by his hands, her hips descended onto his lap. Reflex made her stop when her soft flesh met with his unyielding staff, but instinct quickly took over. With a force
of erotic will, she impaled herself on the thick stake of his body.

  Her expression pinched as her body reminded her she was not yet used to his girth. But slowly her slick sheath ceded to him.

  “This is how I want you,” he said. “Filled by me, just as I am filled by you.” He took a long lock of her hair and brought it to his lips.

  She rocked on him—uneasily at first, her muscles unaccustomed to such a movement. But soon she found the way to slide over him in such a way that it intensified the pleasure between her legs. Her mouth fell open as she began to excite herself all over again, her passion enraged when he cupped one breast and lifted the plump weight to his mouth, his hot lips sucking on her stiffened nipples.

  Her breasts bounced against his chest, and he was enthralled. His jaw tensed as his own instincts took over, and his hips began to buck up into her. Within moments, they were moving together in perfect synchronization. Deep inside his chest, he made the most incredible sounds of pleasure, and it was music to Athena’s ears. Lady Ponsonby had once told her that men were to be enjoyed, like rich desserts or fine wine. But she was finding that she derived more satisfaction from eliciting those moans in him than making them herself.

  As only lovers can, he communicated his mounting need to her. He increased his speed, thrusting harder, which propelled her to a new level of pleasure. With his hands on her back, her breasts springing against him, and her sex kissing his, her entire body thrummed with sensation. She hugged him to herself, and with one blinding thrust, ecstasy exploded around them like sparks from a firecracker.

  He opened his eyes to find her staring at him. His hot breath fell on her face in great gusts.

  “I want to spend a lifetime bringing that expression to your face,” she said.

  He grinned at the memory of his own words. “If you make love to me like that, my lifetime may not last that long.”

  They remained joined for several moments, each taking part in the other’s afterglow. Despite the ebbing of the sexual pleasure, the joy did not diminish. Her caresses continued, her hands studying the feel of his body.