by Jane Lark
A sound rumbled in the back of his throat, and his hand gripped her breast more firmly, but his body lifted a little to let her slip his buttons loose.
When his waistcoat opened her fingers slid beneath, brushing over his cotton shirt and the architecture of his muscle beneath it.
She arched against him as her hands moved to his back beneath his waistcoat, she wanted the release he’d let her experience in the dark.
His kiss left her lips. She shut her eyes, shut out embarrassment, as his lips touched her chin then travelled down her neck, nipping and biting gently.
“You’re beautiful, Mary, within and without. I do love you.”
I love you too.
Her fingers slid down his back and pulled his shirt from his trousers, as his lips touched her breast.
A summer breeze swept in through the open doors, caressing the naked skin he’d revealed.
He said nothing as she pulled his shirt loose and touched his silky skin, and the firm muscle beneath it. With her eyes closed she hid in the darkness as they’d done in the garden.
He sucked her nipple with a sharp tug, and the pain of desire struck like a dagger between her legs. She wanted him there. To know how it felt.
Another moan left her lips as instinctively she arched again, pressing her breast towards his mouth.
Then the warmth of his mouth was gone.
She opened her eyes, sensing him looking at her. The brown amber had become dark, his onyx pupils wide. “Let me touch you fully.” His voice flowed over gravel.
She didn’t understand at first, but then his hand slid from her breast to her dress clutching the fabric.
“Will you allow it?” he breathed.
Her eyes held his gaze.
“Yes,” again the word fell from her lips without thought. But it was what she wanted, desperately wanted.
He held her gaze, and drew her dress higher, his fingers brushing the smooth inner surface of her knee.
A shiver raked her body.
A smile lifted his closed lips, but he did not look away.
She wished to hide behind closed eyelids but she could not while he watched, it seemed cowardly. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her drawers, playing across her inner thigh.
Her lips fell open. She wanted to weep, whimper and cry out with pleasure all at once.
Then with a single movement his fingers swept up and touched her there, between her legs, pressing against her flesh for a moment.
She bit her lip holding onto his gaze, imprisoned by it, as her fingers gripped the skin at his sides above his hips.
“You’re wet for me, darling.” His fingers slid forwards and back, as they had in the dark over her dress only now he touched her flesh, slipping through the slit in her drawers.
She could not breathe; a part of her could not believe she was letting this happen, another part wished for so much more. She wanted him to stop and she wanted him to continue.
If my parents find us like this?
Again the thought was swept away as his fingers slipped into her, only slightly, but…
She died, closing her eyes, the world crashing in on her, as her fingernails cut into his flesh, gripping him hard. She cried out. His lips covered hers, brushing them again and again, taking the sound.
“Good, God, you are perfect. I cannot believe how well we are matched.”
His fingers worked a charm within her, withdrawing a little and pressing back, gently stroking and provoking. Sensory delight danced through her nerves. The day was so hot; she wanted to be rid of all her clothes, of all of his and lie naked with him.
The column of his arousal pushed against her hip as he worked. She wanted to touch him, but embarrassment held her back, and yet… And yet… She could not hold herself back… She pressed her hips into his hand searching for a deeper invasion, but he would not give it. Desperation pulling at her nerves, her fingers hunted for the buttons on his waistband then she fought to free them as a soft laugh left his throat.
His lips touched her breast then sucked as the buttons came loose.
She bit her lip, afraid to open her eyes, afraid of his judgement, hiding in the darkness, and not wanting to face what they did because then she would have to admit she was committing a sin. If she did not face it. It did not feel sinful.
Her fingers dipped within his trousers to touch the hard column of his flesh.
The skin felt like velvet.
She clutched it, holding firm, not knowing what else to do.
“I’ll show you.” His voice brushed her cheek, answering her unspoken thought. Then his hand covered hers; his fingers damp with her essence. “Like this.”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze, as he drew her hand down and then up.
His eyes were pools of emotion, sunlight shining through honey.
I love you.
She should feel embarrassed by this intimacy. She did not.
After a moment he let her hand go, and then his fingers were back between her legs, and they touched each other, watching each other. He had a hand about her heart too, and a fist in her stomach, the emotion caught so tight within her.
His head bowed and his hair brushed her skin as his lips touched her breast again.
Drew.
He sucked her nipple, his fingers working their charm between her legs.
Drew.
Her fingers clasped tighter about him.
Drew.
The hunger and thirst inside her surged on a high tide, rising in a pool in the place between her legs, impatient for more. She wanted his weight, his strength, his pressure there.
Her thoughts lost in the turmoil swirling through her senses, Mary’s thumb brushed the tip of his erection.
A shiver racked his body.
How heady, to know she could move him as he moved her.
His suck pulled hard on her breast, then he released it and his head came up, a rogue’s smile twisting his lips. “Mary, darling, I’m trying to be good.”
“And if I do not want you to be good.” The breathless words tumbled from her dry mouth.
His eyes lost their rakish glint. “Sweetheart, you do. I made you a promise. You can trust me. I shan’t break it.” The caress between her legs grew more intense as he spoke, utterly entrancing her body.
His head bent and his lips brushed her temple, then his kiss touched the skin beside her eye. Her eyelids lowered.
He kissed her cheek, her nose, her chin.
Her fingers gripped his erection, just holding now, with one hand, while her other clutched his shoulder as her breathing quickened and her heartbeat raced.
“Let go, sweetheart, trust me,” he whispered to her ear in a husky voice.
A tide rose within her, like it had done in the dark. He knew… He knew how he moved her.
His fingers stroked, pushing inside her a little before withdrawing while his thumb played over a sensitive spot and the sensations flowed like ripples through her body, reaching even to her fingers and toes.
“Please, I want you.” Her fingers clasped more tightly about him.
“You’d regret it, darling. You would. Just let go.” His voice urged as it had done in the dark. “Come into my hand.”
Thoughts and feelings shattered, splintering into a thousand pieces that were swept away on a surging, rolling wave. It washed through her blood like a boar tide, ripping through her veins, stronger than she’d felt in the darkness.
“That’s it, sweetheart… Just… That’s it…”
Then his fingers were gone from inside her, and she felt him touch the tip of his erection, spreading her moisture there, before his hand closed over hers.
She opened her eyes, her vision focusing on his face, then his eyes. He was looking at her. She held his gaze. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry, but I need this.”
His hand covered hers, moving her fingers.
His gaze clung to hers, fixed and hard.
His hips moved, pressing into their joined grip and the
n withdrawing.
The pattern aroused her as his deep brown amber eyes shone, his gaze sharpening with a dark intent, their onyx centres dilating.
She understood the heat in his eyes, she could see the sensation he’d taught her echoed there.
His movements quickened, and his fingers gripped more tightly over hers, it became a painful embrace. Then he stopped, suddenly, as though every muscle in his body locked, a cry of revelation broke his lips, rasping from his throat and his gaze was lost then. She saw ecstasy there for an instant before his eyelids fell, then he pulsed in her hand and wet heat spilled from his tip.
The intimacy and vulnerability of it gripped at her soul. It spoke of his humanity. He was not a monster, just a man. A man she loved, and a man who’d said he thought he loved her. A man who did care for her. A man who’d just been isolated and labelled bad by society. They were wrong.
When he opened his eyes, they shone with gratitude. “You are divine, Mary, thank you.” His forehead rested on hers for a moment before he rose up, lifting off her, though his gaze still held hers. “When you’re certain, my darling, when you say, yes, then we’ll join, but not before. You can trust me.”
Her heartbeat had slowed. She felt cold, despite the hot day.
“Here…” He’d reached to his coat and withdrawn a handkerchief, to wipe her hand clean, then he wiped himself.
Her fingers lifted to brush back his brown hair as she sat up. She felt uncertain now, and her touch was tentative.
Had they really just done what they’d done? Had she really begged him for more?
He looked as if he feared she’d bolt.
She would not. She’d made her choice. But she was embarrassed and self-conscious.
He slid the soiled handkerchief back into his pocket, then rose to secure the buttons at his flap and tuck his shirt into his trousers.
He looked down and smiled. “You look gorgeous. Do you want to tempt me back?”
Heat absorbing her skin, Mary pushed her dress down, then swung her legs from the sofa, to sit upright before pulling up the neck of her chemise and securing the buttons of her bodice with shaking fingers.
He bent, and his fingers wrapped about her nape, tilting her face up so he could press a hard kiss to her lips – a thank you kiss.
Her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped.
When he straightened, letting her go, she stood up too, awkwardness besetting her, uncertain what to say or do.
He smiled as he buttoned up his waistcoat.
He was a stranger to her in so many ways and yet her soul knew him… It had been waiting to find him. She trusted him, regardless of what her father and John said. Had he not just proven himself? He could have taken everything from her. He’d not. He’d left her the choice.
She’d made it.
Lifting up on to her toes, and wrapping her arms about his neck, she kissed his cheek before saying to his ear, “I will, yes.”
He pulled away sharply, his eyes full of questions as his hands braced her elbows. “Yes?”
She smiled. “Yes. I will marry you.”
His brow furrowed, as though he did not believe her.
If she had needed more proof he was not the rogue he seemed, here it was. His surprise and doubt only showed he was not as self-confident as he appeared. He needed her as no other suitor had. He needed her to help him show people he was not what they thought.
“You’re sure?” he whispered. “I feel as though I have done nothing to prove myself.”
“I am sure,” she answered, holding his gaze and stepping from the cliff she had clung to earlier – faith her bridge. “I think I can trust you.”
His eyes softened, the rich, deep, honey brown glowing behind dark lashes. “You think you can trust me, and I think I love you. Is it a good enough foundation?”
Her hand cupped his cheek. “Do you wish to dissuade me now? You are only proving yourself worthy of my…”
His lips tilted to his roguish half smile, when she stopped. “Of your what?”
She shook her head, losing courage.
“Of your love? Do you think you love me too…” His voice rang with surprise and hope.
“I would not have done what we did, if I did not?” Vulnerability trembled through her nerves. She lifted her chin in defiance of it.
His fingers brushed her skin as his gaze bored deep into hers, looking for something. “Let us be in love then. Let this be a love match.” His voice rolled through gravel. Then he pressed a hard brief kiss on her lips, before catching hold of her hands. “I’ll make arrangements.”
She nodded.
“You know we must elope, your family would never agree to a match while your brother is so against me.”
“I know.” The weight of her decision settled heavily on her shoulders. This would be hard, she would break their hearts. But surely they would come to see the good in Drew.
His fingers tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her brow.
The muscle within her core clenched, aching at the memory of his more intimate touch.
“I’ll write to you. Send the boy to me in three days and I’ll send word.”
She nodded.
His lips brushed hers, another brief touch, then he breathed across her mouth. “Sweetheart, I cannot believe you said yes.”
She could not believe it either.
Her fingers clasped in his hair as she kissed him. She did not want him to go.
He broke it. “You will have me hard for you again but I must go.”
She nodded. Her parents would be home soon.
He gripped her hand and squeezed it for an instant before letting go and turning to pick up his coat.
“I’ll walk you to the gate,” she said as he put it on.
He threw her a smile across his shoulder, then picked up his hat and put it on, before picking up his gloves too.
Her heart thundered.
He held out his hand. She took it. It held hers firmly, the leather of his glove now a barrier between them.
She pulled gently, leading him from the summerhouse into the cover of the trees and then beneath the arches draped with sweet scented flowering wisteria.
When they reached the gate which opened onto the alley leading to the mews, she stopped and looked up at him.
His gaze held hers, then he bent, bestowing a brief hard kiss on her lips. When he broke it, his eyes shone. “I’ll write. I’ll tell you where and when.”
Nodding, she caught her lower lip between her teeth as tears clouded her vision.
He smiled, and his gloved fingers brushed her cheek. “We will be together soon.”
She nodded again, unable to speak for fear she’d cry. He turned and slid the bolt loose, opened the gate and threw one last roguish smile across his shoulder, then he left.
It was still clear and bright, but without him the sun had gone.
“Mary!”
Her heart raced as she turned back to the garden.
“Mary! Mary!” Several voices lifted on the air shouting her name, her brothers and sisters.
Her parents were home and her siblings had tales to tell about everything she’d missed.
She longed to tell her own news. I am engaged.
A smile suddenly parted her lips. I am engaged, I am going to marry him.
Her brothers and sisters came into view, charging towards her at a run, all shouting at once.
* * *
As Drew jogged up the steps of White’s, he grinned from ear to ear. When he walked into the room where his friends were ensconced a few moments later his grin had dropped to a smile but joy was lodged somewhere deep in his chest and exuberance hovered. He had said the words I love you. God knew if they had been true; he did not, no one had ever taught him what love was. But his feelings for Mary had been so much more than physical.
She had been without guile, without powder or paint, without artifice, beautiful, honest, and her soul had been naked for him. She had let him touch her.
But more than that, she had given him her complete trust… and hope… and love… She had inferred that she loved him too.
His feelings had been more than lust, it was not just a physical desire he felt for her, and so the word love had come to his lips, the word he’d never thought he’d say… Even if it was not true, it did not matter. He cared for her. He knew that.
He cared a great deal.
He saw his friends.
Strange new feelings still whizzed about through the nerves in his chest, like fireworks exploding. Pride. Happiness. Hope. Excitement. His life had become something to look forward to, he saw a horizon in the distance, and Mary there.
“Success.” He stated the single word as he joined their group and dropped into one of the leather armchairs about a low table. Their eyes turned to him in question. “You may congratulate me gentlemen, I am engaged to the fair Miss Marlow.”
“No!”
“You dark dog!”
“Bloody hell, old boy!”
All three exclamations broke at once, his friends rising to their feet, then they slapped his shoulder and shook his hand.
“The prose did its job then,” Peter intoned.
“It was more than the prose, my friend. It appears I’ve not lost my charm after all.”
Peter laughed. “You did not? It’s the middle of the day. How the hell did you get within ten feet of the girl?”
Drew smiled. That is for me to know…
Peter laughed again, shaking his head before sitting back down.
The others sat too, but as they did, Drew caught sight of Pembroke across the room. Mary’s half-brother sat among his influential uncles, looking Drew’s way.
Drew sent him a twisted smile. Let the bugger squirm, he would find out the cause of their exuberance soon enough.
But Drew needed to be wary, he could not let her family find out. They would stop this instantly if they knew, and he’d have her father, her brother and her uncles baying for his blood. But they would be anyway when the truth was out.
Looking away Drew leaned forward to pour himself coffee. He was in for a fight, but it was a fight worth having. He would need a day alone with her. It would be best to leave in daylight then they could travel more easily and cover more miles to find somewhere they could be private for a night. There, he would fix their fate, so when they were found, there would be no going back.