With a sigh of happiness, she rested her cheek against his chest. “In every way,” she repeated. A happy smile played at her lips as she whispered, “My husband.”
Nervous butterflies danced in her belly when she thought of it. And what they’d just done. It had been absolutely wonderful! Now she knew why her older sisters gazed on their husbands in that dreamy way they did, why her parents insisted that she and her siblings find love matches. Oh, love was divine!
Her heart felt so full that she wondered how it didn’t burst. She’d never been happier in her life as she was at that moment, knowing that Stephen loved her. That they would marry and spend the rest of their lives together. Simply heaven. They would have to be careful—they weren’t married yet, and God help him if either of her parents caught them together. Again. But for this moment, he was completely hers.
Stephen Crenshaw was finally hers.
It wasn’t the way she would have ever imagined a romance between them playing out, but love had blossomed after all.
They had so much to discuss, not least of which was asking Papa’s permission to marry her. Formally this time, the way the duke expected of him. But that could all wait. Right now, she cared about nothing more than simply being with him.
She rested her cheek against his chest, closed her eyes, and drank in the delicious pleasure of being in his arms. Within his embrace, comforted by the lullaby of his heartbeat, Faith slipped into peaceful sleep.
Chapter Ten
Stephen lay in bed and watched Faith sleep.
The pre-dawn blues of night faded as the light of sunrise began to spill through the window and play across the delicate features of her face. Her smooth skin and high cheekbones, her red-tinged lashes lying softly closed, her pink lips parted slightly, her hair spilling across the pillow...Dear Lord, even asleep she was beautiful. He could barely believe that she was now truly his to love openly and for the rest of his life, or that this caring, wonderful creature had given herself so freely last night.
They would have to rise and dress soon. The duchess would certainly return early to continue her care of Mary, and he needed to visit the manor house, to inform the staff of his arrival and check on Jeremy.
For now, though, there was no hurry to leave the warmth of the bed.
Yet the yearning inside him was too strong to let her keep sleeping. They would be officially engaged as soon as he was able to speak to the duke, but knowing his mother and hers, even a short engagement would mean weeks of wedding planning and no chance to be alone with Faith. He grimaced. After the way he’d left Hartsfield two days ago, Strathmore would certainly ensure it. Months might pass before she was back in his arms.
But at this moment, they were together, and he didn’t want to waste a moment.
He caressed his fingertips across her cheek and whispered her name. She stirred but didn’t wake. With a small pang of guilt that he wanted to rouse her when she’d been so exhausted last night—but only a very small pang—he traced his thumb along her bottom lip.
Her eyes opened with a light flutter of lashes and a soft inhalation. She stared at him, sleep-dazed and confused, which sent an amused warmth spreading through him. Clearly, she didn’t remember yet why she hadn’t awoken in her own bedroom at home, or why they were sleeping together in the same bed, still naked beneath the covers—
Then a smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes cleared with a bright sparkle.
“Good morning.” He leaned over her to place a kiss against her lips.
“A very good morning,” she murmured against his mouth as her arm snaked around his neck to pull him closer to her.
He kissed her languidly, savoring the sweet taste of her. As she returned his kiss and relaxed beneath him with a sigh, she ran her fingers through his hair and unwittingly stoked the tingle of arousal slowly building inside him. He smiled against her mouth. He wanted to wake up like this every morning, and soon, he’d be able to do just that.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
He slipped his hand beneath the blanket and caressed over her body. “Quite restful.” He cupped her breast against his palm, handling her gently, knowing she would still be sore. “Soft mattress,” he murmured as his fingers strummed her nipple. It tightened instantly with the memory of what pleasures he could give. “Warm blankets.”
“Warm man,” she corrected, her breath growing shallow with arousal.
He grinned down at her, happier than he’d ever been in his life. His hand left her breast to roam lower. “Soft woman.” Oh so very soft and inviting, and for the moment all his to savor. His hand stroked idly against her lower belly, his fingertips brushing tantalizingly against her feminine curls. “And you, love? Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” she sighed, which turned into a low moan when he stroked between her legs. “Oh yes...”
He watched the pleasure dance across her face as she closed her eyes and held her breath against the intimate caresses he gave her. He didn’t want to hurt her by bedding her again so soon, but already she was wet with desire and ready for him. And his body longed for hers.
“Are you too sore?” Concern thickened his voice as he watched for any sign of discomfort on her face as he lightly teased her with his fingertips.
“No,” she answered between soft pants. “That feels good.”
He groaned. It felt very good. Unable to resist, he stroked harder against her, caressing deeper into her slick softness. “And this?”
She gave an answering sound that was half moan, half whimper. And all pleasure. Her hand slipped down between them and folded around his cock, then gave a tentative stroke along his shaft that left him shaking.
“And you?” Another long, slow stroke of her hand, this time much bolder, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Then she asked so softly that he could barely hear her, the innocent question in complete opposition to the wicked way she was pleasuring him, “Are you sore here?” Her thumb caressed over his tip in curious exploration of his body and teased at the tiny slit, where already a drop of wetness gathered. “Or here?”
Losing his restraint, he brought his mouth down hard over hers, capturing her lips in a fierce, open-mouthed kiss that had her arching beneath him—
A knock rapped sharply at the door. “My lord?” More knocking, harder and more insistent as Polly continued to call out for him. “Sir! Wake up, please!”
Faith’s eyes grew wide.
He placed his fingertip against her lips in warning to keep quiet, then called out over his shoulder. “I’m awake. What is it?”
“It’s Mrs. Halstead, sir. Her fever’s broken!”
A long, jerking sigh of relief poured from him. “Thank God.”
“She’s askin’ fer ye, sir. I came to fetch ye.”
Faith sucked in a silent breath.
“I need a moment to dress. Go find Lady Faith,” he called out with a grinning wink at her. “She’s sleeping somewhere downstairs.”
“Yes, sir!” The sound of scurrying footsteps drifted away.
“You’re terrible,” Faith scolded in a whisper.
He arched a brow. “You’d rather she find us together like this?” With a last, lingering kiss, he rolled off her and out of bed. He snatched up his breeches from the floor and yanked them on. “That should buy us a few minutes while she hunts for you.” He slipped his shirt over his head. “I’ll go to Mary, and you can follow when you’ve finished dressing.”
She sat up and pulled the covers over her body to hide her nakedness. Which was a damned shame, as far as he was concerned. Although if he’d remained here with her looking like that for a minute longer, nothing could have pulled him away.
“You’re awfully good at hiding naked women,” she commented quietly, wariness darkening her face.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He dared to play with fire by leaning over the bed. “I might have changed, but I still remember how to be a rake.” He pulled down the sheet to bare a single plump breast and placed a
kiss on her nipple. When it puckered eagerly beneath his lips, he groaned and murmured with a heavy sigh, “I’m going to miss being a rake.”
She swatted at him again. Laughing, he dodged her hand and grabbed up the rest of his clothes from the floor.
Buttoning up his waistcoat, he grinned back at her and reluctantly slipped into the hall.
He was dressed halfway respectable by the time he reached Mary’s room, although covered in prickly morning beard and still somewhat dusty from yesterday’s ride. He stifled a silly grin. It must be love if Faith found him desirable looking this rumpled and worn.
He paused in the doorway. “Mary?”
She opened her eyes, and his heart skipped. “Stephen,” she mumbled, “you’re here...”
With a rush of relief, he hurried forward and sat on the chair drawn up to her bedside. He reached for her hand. “Thank God you’re better. You had me worried.”
She smiled weakly at him. “You weren’t the only one.”
Footsteps hurried down the hall and into the room. “Sir! I can’t find Lady Faith anywhere downstairs.”
“How peculiar.” He kept his face inscrutable, except for a twitch at his lips. “Did you check in the kitchens?”
Footsteps raced away.
Looking at her with a mix of relief and sympathy, Stephen placed his hand against her forehead, then smiled. She would have a long recovery ahead of her to regain her strength, but now her forehead was cool to the touch and the color had returned to her cheeks.
With a grateful smile, she took his hand and squeezed it, but the gesture which was meant to reassure him of her strength only reinforced how weak she was.
She tried to sit up. “Where’s Jeremy?” A panicked worry rose in her voice as she glanced around the room. “Jeremy!”
Stephen took her shoulders and gently put her down against the pillows. “He’s all right. He’s at the manor house.”
She nodded and eased down, the panic leaving her but not its intensity. “I want to see him.”
“You will,” he assured her in as soothing a voice as possible. “Soon. But for now, you need to rest and regain your strength.”
She blinked rapidly as tears welled in her eyes. “I was so frightened. I kept having nightmares...”
“It was only the fever,” he said gently.
She shook her head, tears spiking her lashes. “I thought I was going to die.” Her hand tightened around his, and his chest ached that he couldn’t help ease her fear. “And I was so terrified. Not for me, but for Jeremy. What would he do if anything happened to me? How would he survive if he lost me, too?”
Too. Along with his father. “He would have me,” he rasped hoarsely. “Always.”
“Thank you, Stephen,” she whispered. “Everything we have is because of you. I don’t know what we’ll do without you, or how we’ll ever repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me,” he assured her. Then he added quietly, despite the tightening of his chest at the repercussions of what he was offering—“I think you should remain here at Elmhurst and not leave as we’d planned.”
She shook her head weakly. “I cannot do that.” Sympathy softened her face. “You need to marry and have children, and the last thing a new marriage needs is scandalous rumors that you’re keeping a mistress in your back garden. If her father consents to let you marry her at all.”
He clenched his jaw at that brutal dose of reality. She was right. As long as Mary remained at Elmhurst, Strathmore would never consent for Faith to marry him. “I don’t care about rumors and untruths.” Although how he planned on convincing Strathmore to think the same, he had no idea.
“I care.” She grimaced. “And so will your wife.”
“The woman I marry will be strong. She won’t let a few rumors bother her.” Faith was too strong to let gossip stop her from getting what she wanted. His chest warmed, because finally what she wanted was him.
“She might very well not,” Mary continued, regret lacing her voice, “but she also doesn’t deserve to have what should be the happiest time of her life tarnished because of me.”
Guilt tightened his chest. “I won’t have you leave, Mary, not when you have no one else to care for you.”
“And you can’t have us stay either,” she whispered, blinking at her tears. “So where will that leave your wife, except caught in the middle? Is that really how you want to start your life together?”
He bit back a frustrated curse. “That isn’t at all—”
Her eyes darted to the doorway. Stephen looked up.
Faith stood there, and for several long seconds, none of them moved. His heart pounded. How long had she been there? How much had she overheard? Although judging by the dark frown marring her suddenly pale face, she’d been there long enough to hear far too much.
Forcing a smile, she came forward hesitantly into the room with her hands folded in front of her. God only knew what thoughts were speeding through her mind, if already she was regretting last night and her promise her marry him.
Stephen stood and introduced quietly, “Mary, this is the woman who’s been caring for you. Lady Faith Westover. Faith—” He hesitated as she came to his side. “This is Mary Halstead.”
Mary sat up and leaned heavily against the pillows. “Thank you for caring for me. I owe you my life.”
“It wasn’t as desperate as that,” Faith answered with a faint smile. An obvious lie meant to make Mary feel better.
“And Jeremy? Did you care for him, too?”
“No, my mother took care of him.”
Mary’s eyes moved between Stephen and Faith, as if searching for answers. “You know...who I am, then? Stephen’s told you?”
“Yes. You’re the woman Daniel loved,” Faith acknowledged softly. She drew a deep breath and whispered, “I’m so sorry that you lost him.”
“Thank you,” Mary whispered, unable to find her voice as her eyes glistened with tears.
“Daniel would have been so proud of Jeremy,” Faith commented. She sat on the chair beside the bed. “He’s a beautiful boy.”
Her face broke into a proud smile over her son. “He’s a handful, but smart.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know him, and you.”
“Me, too, my lady.”
She smiled gently, and the awkwardness between the two women melted away. “Please...call me Faith.”
Stephen watched as they fell into conversation about Jeremy and how rambunctious he was, even for his young age, and how rambunctious Polly was for hers.
With every smile and soft laugh that came from Faith, his chest squeezed tighter around his heart. Unable to remain in the room a moment longer, he walked into the hall and stopped only when he reached the stairs, where he leaned heavily against the banister and drew a deep breath.
Faith and Mary...he’d never realized before exactly how intertwined their lives would become. Oh, he knew that the gossip which surrounded Mary and him would make it difficult for Faith to marry him. But knowing how strong Faith was, he’d focused his determination on gaining her love anyway, believing that he could move Mary away, set her up in the life she would have had if Daniel hadn’t died, and send away the rumors right along with her. That whatever gossip lingered after that could be ignored until it vanished completely.
But Faith had been right that day during the pall mall game that simply giving Mary a new home wouldn’t be enough to break from the shadow of his misspent youth. How ironic her solution had been—that he needed to marry as well. Yet she’d had no idea that he’d already determined to do just that. With her. He’d thought that had solved their problems. Confident of it enough, in fact, that he’d arranged that picnic in the stables with the sole intention of proposing to her.
He’d been so very wrong. Solved their problems? Their troubles were only beginning.
But he knew one thing for certain. Now that Faith was his, he had no intention of ever letting her go. No matter what he had to do to ensure t
hat.
*****
When Mary fell into a peaceful sleep, Faith quietly left the room to let her rest and to find Stephen. Last night in his arms, she’d thought that there was still a lot between them to discuss before they could start their new life together. Now a mountain stood between them, and she couldn’t see to the other side.
She saw him and stopped. He stood at the top of the stairs, leaning back against the railing as if waiting for her, his arms folded and his gaze staring thoughtfully at the floor. Dressed in the same clothes he’d worn all the way from London, his hair sleep-mussed and stubble darkening his face, she’d never seen him look so disheveled. Or so breathtaking.
Or so troubled.
When he looked up and his eyes softened on her, she came forward and stepped into his embrace, circling her arms around his waist as his own folded around her and held her close.
“Mary’s going to be just fine,” she told him.
“Thank God,” he murmured, his lips resting against her hair. Then he drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then said quietly, “She’s right, you know. Her presence here will only cause problems for us. But I cannot send her away, not without anyone to look after her.”
“No, you cannot,” she agreed so softly that he words were little more than a pained breath.
Her chest squeezed around her heart at the impossible situation they’d been forced into. Mary and Jeremy could never be left without protection and care. They were too vulnerable. This illness proved it. Even if he gave her an allowance and moved them to one of his other properties, they would still need someone to help them. What would Mary do if another fever struck her? Or Jeremy? Who would take care of them then?
“She can stay here,” she whispered, despite knowing what it meant for their marriage, how difficult the future would be for them. A man who had spent his life spurning society and the daughter of a duke...Society would simply salivate for the opportunity to make them fall. Yet she didn’t care, not as long as she had Stephen’s love. “What matters is that we’re together. After we marry, everyone will see what a loving marriage we have and—”
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