He didn’t need this. He had just learned how to breathe without thinking about her and their nights in Russia. And now she wanted him to be a father to all three of her girls and whatever other children would come of them being together?
Wanting that responsibility was one thing.
Doing it justice was quite the other.
He strode around her, chanting to himself to remain calm and made his way toward the door and opened it. He was determined to do right by her. Determined.
He gripped the handle of the door. “I ask that you give yourself time to think about what you are saying. If you are saying these things because you feel the need to do right by me, know that I am well, Cecilia. I am forging a life for myself and am buying a home next week. It overlooks the park and will prove peaceful. The duc promised to provide formal introductions to men and women of my standing. The nouveau riche, as they are called. I will be accepted by these men and women for what I am. It is a good path for me to take.”
She turned, tears streaking her eyes. “Have you already moved on?”
The raw hurt in her voice and the tears that streaked those beautiful eyes punched him in the gut. It was like she felt for him what he felt for her. A genuine connection and passion. He swallowed. “No. I have not moved on. How…how can I? I simply…” He opened the door wider, trying not to look at her. “Please. Let me do this for you. You do not want or need a man who used to protect all the wrong people.”
“Konstantin—”
“Please let me do the right thing.” His voice was ragged. “Think about your daughters.”
She drifted toward him. “I am ready for a new husband and my girls are ready for a new father.”
“Cecilia—”
“I want you to show my girls what a good man ought to be before they go out into the world and find men of their own. Please say you will call on me tomorrow afternoon. Please. It can be a short visit. Juliet, Giselle and Abigail ardently wish to meet you. You can decide then.”
Her daughters actually knew about him? She had told them about him. Him. As if he were worth knowing about. He envisioned youthful faces gathering around him and eagerly beaming up at him as if he worth the glory of their attention. Despite his past.
Cecilia now lingered before him and the open door. “We don’t have to stay in London. In fact, I do not wish to stay and allow any of us to be subjected to the cruelty of a circle that does not understand genuine people. Let us go to Paris and then back to Russia as a family. Why not show my girls the city you grew up in? It could be a beautiful adventure for all of us.”
Konstantin’s pulse quickened. “You would move your entire family to Russia? For me?”
“Of course,” she softly insisted.
She clearly understood that Russian society was more accepting. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because destiny demands this. Destiny has proven its existence. As you told me it would.”
He searched her face, desperately needing to believe that destiny was with them, not against them. “How has it proven its existence?”
A small smile touched her lips. “My daughters and I live right next door at 30 Belgrave Square. ’Tis overwhelmingly obvious what destiny has in mind for us.”
His lips parted, his hand dropping from the door he held open.
She released a steadying breath, her smile fading. “My girls have announced they are ready for the transition and would like to meet you based off of my affection for you. Would you be willing to agree to a courtship with a possibility toward matrimony if we find we are match?”
He dragged in an astounded breath. She wasn’t just asking to get to know him. She was asking him to be part of her life. “You are asking me to court you?”
“Yes.” She stepped closer. “What is your reply, Mr. Levin?”
He focused hard on pinning his attention to her face. It was the only way he was going to remain calm. This was a moment money could never buy. It was a moment that made him feel like a man. Not a criminal who had stolen a woman’s heart but a real man who had won the affections of a real woman by…being himself.
He adjusted the belt of his robe, feeling awkward. “I, uh…I am without words. Truly. When I am properly dressed and-and…ready, I will call on you tomorrow afternoon. I have some errands to oversee.” Flowers and a ring. He needed a ring. “Expect me at three.”
She hesitated. “So there is no reply?”
He smiled, unable to hold it back. “Tomorrow afternoon I will deliver a reply.”
“Drat you for making me wait.” She sighed. “I suppose I won’t die.”
Her voice clearly indicated she might.
She fingered the pearl button on the inside of her glove and eventually offered, “It appears our respectable fifteen minutes are up. I wish you a good-evening, Mr. Levin. I will see you at three tomorrow afternoon.” She smiled rather superficially, turned and swept quietly down the corridor.
Something told him the woman had been waiting for a kiss. Not just an answer. Which meant, he should do this the way he envisioned. Not the way her circle envisioned.
“Cecilia,” he called out, quickly walking toward her.
She paused and turned, her dark eyes capturing his.
He finished walking toward her and jerked to a halt before her, unable to breathe.
They stared at each other, the corridor pulsing and shrinking to a pinpoint.
“My answer is yes,” he unabashedly announced.
Her lips parted. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He grabbed her waist and yanked her against himself, dragging his hands down the curves of her body. “Now stay an hour so I can keep telling you yes.”
Her gloved hands jumped up to his face. “If I stay an hour,” she whispered, “do you promise to still come over tomorrow at three?”
“With flowers and a ring,” he whispered back.
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and yanked him down toward herself and to his astonishment, tongued him, angling her mouth harder against his own.
He melted against her and feverishly tongued her back.
Their hands were suddenly everywhere, desperately looking for skin to touch.
They stumbled and fell against the nearest wall, kissing and kissing.
He frantically undid his robe in between ragged breaths, revealing his nudity and a more than ready cock. He slid down the length of her body, until he was on his knees before her and jerked up her skirts. Holding the fabric away from his head, he tugged up her chemise. Finally finding her through the sea of fabric, he leaned in, spreading her thighs open and sucked her wet nub.
She staggered against the wall and started sliding down. “Maybe we should…go back into the…room,” she choked out. “Maybe we should…”
He suckled that nub until she could no longer speak and her body trembled against every flick of his tongue. She dug her hands into his hair and slid further down the wall until they were both on the floor and she was beneath him, her hair spilling out of its pins in a cascade.
He flicked his tongue faster.
“Konstantin,” she panted. “I…oh God!” She held his head tighter against her lower half and writhed.
His mouth finally released her nub. “Hold onto it. Not yet.” Moving her head away from the wall, he shoved her gown further above her waist, letting the curtain of fabric fall over to the side of them and grabbing a hold of each leg, he wrapped her legs around his waist.
He drove his length deep into her wetness and choked back, “I am taking you in the corridor where you—” He rolled his hips into her “—proposed to me.”
She clung to him in between gasps.
He rode her into the floor faster, his body desperate for release. “I thought about you every day,” he rasped against her throat.
“I thought about you ever hour,” she rasped back.
He savagely pounded into her, ensuring she felt every moment of his jarring movements. Their moans mingled and grew progre
ssively louder and louder. The rapid thuds of their bodies against the floor echoed as the air grew so unbearably hot. He grunted into her, no longer able to think. He could only feel between uneven, ragged breaths.
She cried out, gripping his shoulders hard.
He cried out, in turn, and let all of his pleasure spiral into one long guttural shout he couldn’t hold. He spilled everything into her, his core and his entire body shuddering and pulsing. He pressed himself against her, catching his breaths.
“Cecilia.” He cradled her, still in disbelief that she was back in his life and in his arms.
The movement of a shadow from down the corridor made him freeze.
The duc pushed away from the far wall he was leaning against in the shadows outside the candlelight, then turned and quietly walked in the opposite direction, the swaying ribbon of the mask dangling from his hand. He disappeared into a room and closed the door.
Konstantin swallowed, knowing the man had been watching. He was going to bloody cut the man’s heart out. Coming upon them accidentally and making a dash was one thing. Staying to leisurely watch was quite another.
Konstantin quickly pulled out of Cecilia and scrambled to yank her skirts back down, while arranging his own robe. He probably shouldn’t tell Cecilia. He skimmed her beautiful face with quaking hands, trying to focus on her and only her.
Her hands slid up his robed shoulders. “I adore you.”
He smiled. “And I you.” He grabbed Cecilia’s face and kissed her hard before releasing her lips and whispering, “I need you to go. ’Tis late. I will call on you tomorrow at three. I cannot wait to meet your girls.”
She kissed his lips one last time. “We will be waiting.”
He pushed himself up off the floor, ensuring his robe was in place and reached down and swept her back onto her feet. He steadied her and smoothed back long curls that had fallen from its pins. “Did you get all dressed up for me?”
She smiled and eased away. “I think you know the answer to that. I had better go, Mr. Levin. Before I stay.” She blew him a kiss with a pucker of full lips.
He grabbed at the air before him and fisting the imaginary kiss she bestowed him, he thudded it against his chest. “I will keep it here. Always. Let me know when you want it back.”
Her smile broadened as she searched his face. “Don’t ever give it back. It’s yours.” Gathering her skirts, she glanced back at him one last time and disappeared down the main stairwell.
When everything had grown quiet and he knew she was gone, Konstantin let out a riled breath, adjusted the belt on his robe and stalked straight toward the duc’s bedchamber that was down a few doors. He wasn’t letting this flit over his shoulder. If the man could openly watch him and Cecilia have sex, the man was capable of anything.
Coming to a quick halt before the closed door, Konstantin used his bare foot to bang against the door. “Andelot?” The son of a bitch. “Open this door!”
Several drawers slammed shut and the door swung open.
The mask was back on. It was crooked. The holes barely aligned.
Konstantin wanted to smack that crooked mask off that face. “How long were you standing against that wall watching us?” he demanded.
The duc leaned heavily against the frame of the door. The heavy scent of brandy clung to the air. “Long enough. Why?”
The man was drunk. But of course. “Why?” Konstantin echoed. “I will tell you why. Any normal man, be he slathered up with brandy or not, would have darted out of sight and given us privacy. Any normal man would not have stayed and taken off his mask so he could watch.”
“Since when did I ever imply I was…normal?” Andelot sighed, blowing out a breath of brandy. “When you get to be a man my age, Levin, you find yourself…well…watching people for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. I have seen it all. What you and she did was…tame. Not at all what I like or what I would do with a woman.” The duc reached out and sloppily patted him on the cheek like a father would a son, the man’s signet ring nudging Konstantin’s skin. “I am happy for you. If you have a son from it, name the boy after me given I was there to see it. Now let me sleep. I am still recovering from Thérèse.” The duc pushed away from the door, staggering and slammed the door.
Konstantin blinked. Why the hell did he feel sorry for a man who had just watched him have sex with his future wife? There had to be something wrong with him.
“When are you getting married?” the duc called through the door.
“I do not know quite yet. She and I are progressing into a courtship to ensure we are a match.”
The door rattled. “To hell with courtship, boy. Courtship is…for the devil. It would only give her a chance to find someone else. You either know you want her to be the mother of all your children or you do not know. Which is it?” he slurred.
Konstantin sighed. “I suggest you sleep off the brandy.”
“Sleep, sleep. Brandy, brandy. Cease being rude. You Russians are rude. I am not done speaking to you. Did I say I was done?”
Konstantin rolled his eyes. “Be sure to let me know when you are.”
“Are you buying her a courtship ring? Is that the plan?”
Why were they talking through the door? “Yes, I intend to buy one. Tomorrow.”
Heavy steps from within the room resounded and several drawers opened and then closed, some of them being slammed shut. “Levin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you still there?”
The man was beyond soused. “Yes. Yes, I am.” He didn’t know why he was but he was.
The door opened and the duc grabbed Konstantin’s hand and deposited a small gold ring with a large garnet. “Take it. I have held onto it for…too long. Thérèse never accepted my proposal when we were younger. And given that she is engaged to another she never will.”
Konstantin’s heart constricted as the weight of that ring sat heavy in his hand. That garnet ring represented the man’s dreams. Dreams that were not his to take. Dreams that were not his to even hold.
Grabbing that scarred hand, Konstantin pressed the ring back into it hard, closing that hand around it. He shook it and leaned in to the duc. “I appreciate your generosity, but this ring represents what is yours. Not mine, but yours. Fight for her. Win her back. I know you can.”
The duc glanced up at him through his own haze. “How do you know I can?”
Konstantin shook that hand one last time in assurance. “Destiny. We Russians know these things.”
* * *
3:07 p.m.
The Stone residence
Cecilia nervously glanced toward the sunlit parlor window from where she sat and arranged her lace morning gown for the third time. It was like waiting for the King to call.
Giselle, Juliet and Abigail primly sat elbow to elbow on the upholstered couch, their dark pinned curls piled in ringlets and white satin matching ribbons they had all insisted on. Whilst Juliet and Abigail both wore white dresses and white slippers, as was proper given their age, Giselle, who sat between them, opted for a regale pale blue and red satin slippers.
Juliet pressed her gloved hands together tighter. “He is seven minutes late, Mama.”
Giselle perused the French clock on the marble mantelpiece of the hearth that was a few feet away from where they sat. “A gentleman is supposed to be aware of the time.”
Abigail picked at the fabric of her cotton gown. “I think he realized the amount of responsibility involved and left for Russia.”
A breath escaped Cecilia. “Cease fussing. Just because he is a few minutes later doesn’t mean he left for Russia. I’m quite certain he—”
The calling bell chimed through the corridor announcing a visitor.
They all jumped to their feet as the butler strode toward the door.
Abigail and Juliet grabbed each other’s arms.
Giselle frantically smoothed her skirts.
While Cecilia felt her entire face grow hot remembering what she and Konstanti
n had done last night against a wall and then the floor. She needed a glass of wine. Desperately.
Booted steps approached. The butler paused in the doorway and announced, “Lord Gunther is calling, Lady Stone. Are you receiving?”
Cecilia felt all of the blood leave her head. It was her cousin. The one whose father used to humiliate her parents when she and her family had been dependent on Lord Gunther’s family for finances. Before Cecilia married well and ended her cousin’s advances by providing her parents with everything herself. In their youth, Gunther had repeatedly tried to do more than kiss her. He eventually married and had children of his own and kept to himself, but whenever their paths crossed, she always panicked and ensured she was never alone. She didn’t trust him.
Cecilia glanced toward her daughters, who gaped at her wide-eyed.
They knew the story about her cousin all too well.
She set her chin. “I am not receiving anyone but Mr. Levin. Please turn him away.”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler inclined his head and departed to dismiss their unannounced guest.
Giselle hurried over to Cecilia and whispered, “He called several times and kept asking to see you. The governess was quite annoyed with him given he kept asking about your return. He hasn’t associated with us before. So why now? Knowing how he used to treat you in your youth, his intentions scare me, Mama.”
Cecilia let out a shaky breath knowing it. “His intentions have no bearing on us. He will be turned away every time.”
A shout from the butler caused them all to pause.
Lord Gunther walked into the room, his grey satin trimmed morning coat announcing the extravagance that had always followed the man. His greying, blond hair was meticulously brushed and parted.
He’d worn his hair the same since 1808.
Hazel eyes briefly met her gaze. He inclined his head. “You look well for yourself, cousin.” Turning to the girls, he smiled and lowered his shaven chin against his silk cravat. “I am certain you are all pleased to have your mother return from her travels abroad after so many months away.”
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 155