IfHe’sSinful

by Desconocido

  Before she could succumb to utter cowardice, turn around, and run for home, his friends began to excuse themselves. Each man stopped to bow to her, wish her well, and kiss her hand. She held on to Brant’s hand and stared up into his shadowed eyes. Olwen was right. The man had been wounded and needed to heal.

  “Olwen says it will be fine,” she whispered and then blushed at the weak attempt to give comfort when it had not been asked for.

  “Does he?”

  “Aye, I just thought it might help if you knew that.”

  “Oddly enough, even though I am not sure I believe in all these things, it does.” He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Do not bludgeon him too much, m’dear.”

  Penelope knew she was blushing when Ashton walked past her to shut the door behind his friends. She heard him murmur something to Marston before shutting the door and then frowned. Was that the sound of a key being turned in a lock?

  She turned to face him and all her well-practiced words dried up in her throat. He was so handsome and he was smiling at her as if she was the best thing he had seen in years. Then she frowned. If he had wanted to see her, he could have come to Wherlocke House. She was not the one who had been in hiding.

  Ashton saw the soft welcoming look upon her face suddenly firm into a frown. Anger turned her eyes more green than blue. He should have kissed her while she was still looking soft and welcoming, he thought, and then inwardly shook his head. They needed to talk. He grinned to himself. Then they could kiss. He pocketed the key he had just locked the door with, for he intended to keep her in his study until she forgave him his idiocy and then he intended to do a lot more than kiss her.

  “It has been too long,” he said.

  “You knew where I was,” she replied, fighting to keep hold of her anger with him and not fling herself into his arms as she so ached to do.

  “Penelope, a man has his pride,” he began and then looked at her in surprise. “Did you just growl at me?”

  She had but she would have all her hair pulled out before she would ever admit it. “Do not be ridiculous. Ladies do not growl. You were going to tell me about a man’s pride?”

  “Pride can make a man act like an idiot. I suddenly realized how rich you were, in land and coin. I wanted to at least be clear of debt when I came to you.”

  “You did not care about such things when you courted an heiress, when you courted Clarissa. How is my money different than theirs?”

  “It is not, except that it is yours and I cared about what you thought of me.” He rubbed a hand over his head. “No, I cared about how I felt in your eyes. I did not want to be that fortune hunter any longer. I never did, to tell the truth. It always made me uncomfortable. But with you, it made me more than uncomfortable. When you burned those markers, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders and then it was back. I was already in debt to you and we had not even discussed marriage. That was when I knew I had to do something.”

  “Straighten out a few things?”

  “Yes, straighten out the remaining debts and find enough money to pay you for those markers.”

  “I do not want you to pay me for those markers. That was a gift. They had been the reason you had become ensnared in Clarissa and Charles’s trap and I wished to free you completely from it. I certainly did not wish you to remain chained down by debts your father made.”

  He stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know that now. Up until a few moments ago, I was still planning to pay you back but my friends made me see sense. Sometimes one just has to accept a gift.” He brushed a kiss over her lips, forcing himself not to take more just yet. “I thank you.”

  “You are welcome. And that was it? The markers?”

  “No, not all of it. I made an investment, you see, and was waiting for it to pay some results. It has.” He grinned. “I am now a wealthy man.”

  “So, you do not need a wealthy bride.”

  “No, but I do need you. I want you as my bride. I know you cannot fully understand, but I needed to free myself of debt and put some money in my purse before I asked you to join your life to mine.”

  “That is what Aunt Olympia said. All that puzzles me is why you should feel so with me and not the others.”

  “Because I cared nothing for them. To me they were more dowry than women. I knew I would be a good husband, faithful and kind, but I really felt little for any I courted and less than nothing for Clarissa. If not for those markers, I would have walked away from her at the start. But you, I could not bring myself to act the fortune hunter with you. I wanted to go to the woman I love with a full purse and no need of her money. I wanted the world to know that I chose her not for the weight of her purse, but because she was the only woman I wanted.” He leaned back a little, uneasy as he saw tears glistening in her eyes. “This makes you cry?”

  “You love me.” She finally gave in to the urge that had been gnawing at her from the start and threw herself into his arms.

  “Yes, I love you.” He savored the feel of her in his arms again, wondering how he had lasted even a fortnight without feeling her there. “I was about to come to you, beg your forgiveness and woo you.”

  “Oh, there is no need. I forgive you. I might not fully understand it all, it being a man’s way of thinking, but I forgive you. I also love you. More than I can say.”

  “Then show me, Penelope Wherlocke,” he whispered against her neck.

  “The door,” she began as his fingers nimbly began to undo her gown.

  “Locked.”

  “Cocky.”

  “Hopeful. Very, very hopeful.”

  Penelope let herself drown in the heat and passion of his kiss. They stumbled toward a settee, leaving their clothing in their wake. She was shaking with her need for him and the tremors that rippled through his body told her he suffered from the same hunger. By the time they fell together onto the settee, she had nothing left on but her stockings.

  Ashton looked down at the well-kissed, delightfully tossled woman in his arms and his whole body hardened with his need for her. He was panting as if he had run for miles and was pleased to see that she was doing the same. The wildness was still there and he rejoiced in it.

  She moaned her welcome as he joined their bodies with a slowness that had her gritting her teeth in need. He moved in and out of her with an equal slowness and she thought she would go mad. Every nerve and muscle in her body tautened with hunger and her desire roared through her veins. She did not want slow and easy. She wanted to be possessed with fire, ferocity, and blind need.

  “Ashton, cease playing with me,” she said as she rubbed her feet over the backs of his legs.

  “I like playing with you.” He was not sure how much longer he could do so, however, as his mind was clouding with passion’s heat and his body was screaming for release.

  “Do you now?”

  Penelope trailed her hands down his strong back and slowly ran her nails over his taut buttocks. The way he trembled at her touch, sweat beading on his brow, told her she was on the right track. Smiling faintly, she slipped her hand between their bodies and did the same just above where their bodies joined. He groaned. She tightened herself around the hard length of him and almost undid herself with the way it made her desire soar. He gasped and shuddered. She did it again. He finally gave her the ferocity she craved, pounding into her until they both cried out with joy.

  “Penelope,” Ashton said when he could finally speak again, “have you been reading some of those books?” He smiled when she giggled.

  “Actually, there were quite a few in the library at Wherlocke House. Naturally I had to hide them away so the boys could not find that, er, pirate treasure.”

  “Really? There are naughty books at Wherlocke House?” He grinned at her. “And you read them? Sinful child.”

  “I peeked at a few.” She blushed. “I think whoever wrote them and drew the pictures had some very grand ideas of the size of men and just what a person is capable of doi
ng. I am sorry, Ashton, but some of the things I glimpsed in those books are impossible, if not positively painful looking.”

  “I agree, all except on the size of men.” He laughed when she slapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, my Penelope, I do love you.”

  She brushed her lips over his. “I love you, too. Ashton?”

  He touched a finger to her mouth. “And I love the boys. I have already begun making changes to the west wing of Radmoor Manor so that they may have rooms.” He frowned at the glisten of tears in her eyes. “Are you going to cry again?”

  “I did not cry before. ’Tis just a little dust. You need to get the maid in here.”

  “I also may still have doubts about what you and your family can do, will confess that some of the things can make me uneasy, like what your uncle Argus can do, but I do not care. It neither frightens nor repulses me. Those were the things you were most concerned about, correct?”

  “Very correct.” She stroked his cheek. “Thank you, Ashton, and do not worry about your doubts hurting any of us. We understand that those who have not lived with such things as we have cannot always accept them as we do. It has always been the fear, the whispers of witches and such, that we cannot abide.”

  “I am not surprised.” He idly began to caress her breasts. “I hate for this moment to end as my mother will be eager to keep you busy and at her side as she makes wedding preparations.”

  “How long does that sort of thing take?”

  “I am hoping I can keep her to the three weeks needed to read the banns.”

  “It could take longer than that?”

  “Easily.” He studied her face and smiled. “In a hurry?”

  This was not the way she wished to tell him, Penelope thought. Yet if she hesitated, she would find herself in a precarious position. Three weeks was not so bad as she was carrying twins and everyone expected them to come early. Any more than that and they would be raising eyebrows everywhere at the birth of the children.

  “Three weeks. No more.”

  He blinked. “You are sounding very firm. I will speak to Mother, though, if you really feel that way.”

  “Ashton, I would love to have a big wedding, love to make your mother happy as she plans and shops and all of that. However, any more than three weeks and I shall not fit into any wedding dress made now.”

  Ashton sat back on his heels and stared at her for a moment. Then he stared at her pretty, flat stomach. Then he stared at her again.

  “Am I guessing right in thinking that you are already carrying my child?”

  “Aye, I am.” She squeaked when he lunged at her and hugged her almost too tight. “So, I need not say I am sorry for ruining your mother’s wish for a big wedding?”

  “No need to say you are sorry at all.” He kissed her with all the love and joy he was filled with. “I do believe I had a hand in this.” He stroked her stomach. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry all the time. I fought with Artemis over the last piece of apple pie last night. He lost.” She grinned when he laughed for she could hear the joy in his voice.

  “But not ill?”

  “Nay. Oh, a tiny little bit in the evening, but if I have a biscuit or piece of toasted bread and lie down, it passes. I was only sure this evening. I had guessed at it but pushed it aside with all the work that needed doing.”

  “Because you were not sure of me. That is why you came here tonight. You needed to make me take a stand.”

  “That was some of it. Everyone assured me that you would be back. It was Delmar who told me I might want to come and give you a kick so that you would find your way back to us a little faster. He confirmed what I had been trying to ignore, that I carry your children.”

  He was kissing her belly when she said that, so Penelope decided it might take him a moment or two to fully grasp the meaning of her words. She stroked his hair as she waited and knew the exact moment the words struck home. His mouth stilled on her belly and his long, strong body that caused her so much pleasure grew tense, but not in the way that would give her any delight. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at her.

  “Did you say children? Not child, but children?”

  She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Aye, fear so. You are at least speaking more coherently than I when Delmar first told me.”

  “Twins?”

  “Aye, Papa, twins. One boy and one girl.”

  He took her into his arms and held her until the worst of the shock passed. “Are you certain you are fine?”

  “Very certain. We are good breeders, Ashton. We have our children easily and rarely, very rarely, lose a woman to childbirth. I will be fine.”

  Ashton wriggled around until he was on his back and held her on top of him. “I cannot think of any time my family has produced twins,” he said as he ran his hands up and down her slim, soft back. “Yours?”

  “Not that I know of but they are not all that unusual in the Wherlocke and Vaughn family. I will be fine, Ashton. I will. Trust us to know such things if naught else. There was not a glimmer of worry in any of the boys. Not one. All they were interested in was that the children not be bastards.”

  “I am glad they pushed you to come here.”

  “And if we are about to be pulled into all the business of a hasty wedding, I think I do not wish to talk anymore.” She smiled as she stroked his body with hers and he grew hard beneath her.

  “Neither do I. I do love you, Penelope, my fruitful little nymph.”

  “Shall I call you my handsome satyr?”

  “Only if there is such a thing as a faithful until death type of satyr.”

  “I think there might be now.”

  He laughed and kissed her, eager to make love again. Ashton believed he would also be eager to make love to Penelope no matter how many years and children they had together. He had started out a fortune hunter but ended up with riches no man can find in his purse. Love, he thought, as he gave himself over to the wildness he and Penelope shared so well, that was true wealth.

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  SHE SEES HIS FACE EVERYWHERE…

  Lady Alethea Vaughn Channing is haunted by a vision

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  Alethea Vaughn Channing looked up from the book she was trying to read to stare into the colorful flames in the massive fireplace and immediately tensed. That man was there again, taking shape within the dancing flames and curling smoke. She tried to tear her gaze away, to ignore him and return her attention to her book, but the vision drew her, ignoring her wants and stealing her choices.

  He was almost family for there was no denying that they had grown up together. She had been seeing glimpses of the man since she was but five years old, although he had been still a boy then. Fifteen long years of catching the occasional peek into his life had made her somewhat proprietary about the man, even though she had no idea who he was. She h
ad seen him as a gangly, somewhat clumsy youth, and as a man. She had seen him in dreams, in visions, and had even sensed him at her side. An unwilling witness, she had seen him in pain, watched him weep, known his grief and his joy and so much more. She had even seen him on her wedding night, which had been oddly comforting since her late husband had been noticeably absent. At times, the strange connection was painfully intense; at others it was only the whisper of emotion. She did not like invading his privacy yet nothing she had ever done had been able to banish him.

  This was a strong vision, she thought, as the images before her grew so clear it was as if the people were right in the room with her. Alethea set her book down and moved to kneel before the fire, as a tickle of unease grew stronger within her. Suddenly she knew this was not just another fleeting intrusion into the man’s life, but a warning. Perhaps, she mused as she concentrated, this was what it had all been leading to. She knew, without even a hint of doubt, that what she was seeing now was not what was or what had been, but what was to come.

  He was standing on the steps of a very fine house idly adjusting his clothes. She could smell roses and then grimaced with disgust. The rogue had obviously just come from the arms of some woman. If she judged his expression right, he wore that smirk her maid Kate claimed men wore after they had just fed their manly hungers. Alethea had the suspicion her vision man fed those hungers a lot.

  A large black carriage pulled up. She almost stuck her hand in the fire as a sudden fierce urge to pull him back when he stepped into it swept over her. Then, abruptly and without warning, her vision became a dizzying array of brief, terrifying images, one after another slamming into her mind. She cried out as she suffered his pain along with him, horrible continuous pain. They wanted his secrets but he would not release them. A scream tore from her throat and she collapsed, clutching her throat as a sharp, excruciating pain ripped across it. Her vision man died from that pain. It did not matter that she had not actually seen his death, that the fireplace held only flame and wispy smoke again. She had suffered it, suffered the cold inside his body as his blood flowed out of him. For one terrifying moment, she had suffered a deep, utter desolation over that loss.