by Raine Miller
D. R.
He greeted her with a kiss to her forehead and then pulled back to peruse her from head to toe.
“The color suits you, Marianne. You wear that blue very well.”
“I haven’t ridden in over a year.”
“I’m sure it will all come back to you. Riding skill is not something one forgets. I just know you’ll be splendid, but I am more than happy to help you if you need it.” He seemed excited, smiling like a boy awaiting a treat, she thought.
She cried out when she saw her “surprise.” The lovely gray horse standing in the stall was her own, Tempest. Or, at least she had been Marianne’s horse before financial ruin had forced her sale. “Tempest?” Marianne petted her neck and leaned forward. “I can hardly believe she’s real.”
“For you, Marianne. She is yours once more.”
Marianne whirled around to face him. “Darius? How did you know?” Her throat tight, she could hardly speak.
“Your father told me she had been sold to the Hallborough estate. The owner is a good friend and was happy to let her go. I bought her back is all.” Darius looked at her questioningly. “Shall we ride?”
They traversed inland, skirting over stones and grass until they reached a copse of trees. Darius announced it was a good place to stop and rest the horses. His strong arms reached for her and brought her down to stand on firm ground. He did not release her, but looked into her eyes. “What is bothering you?”
“Nothing,” she said stiffly, knowing her answer would not be satisfactory to Darius. He would demand an explanation from her now. And she knew she would give it to him.
“Yes, there is something. You are melancholy, I can see it clear as day. Tell me.” He rephrased it for her. “You want to tell me, Marianne.”
Feeling a wash of relief fold over her, she lowered her gaze and whispered, “I–I don’t deserve all of this.” She shifted her eyes to rest upon Tempest. “It is too much, Darius. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t—”
“—I think you deserve it, and I’ll help you get comfortable. Say to me, ‘I deserve everything Darius gives me.’ Say that, Marianne.” His voice firm, harder than she had ever heard, commanded her. And she was helpless against his masterful directives.
“I…I deserve…everything Darius gives me.”
“Yes, you do deserve everything, and now I’ll make sure you’re convinced.” He took a blanket from the travel pack and spread it out on the ground. “I know what you need.” He held out his hand to her. “Lie down with me, Marianne.”
She carefully removed her hat before obeying. Marianne held on to his gaze as she lowered herself onto the blanket. Joining her, he stared down, his eyes raking over her, almost reverently, she thought. Darius certainly knew how to impel her, for it was easy to do his bidding.
She saw her eyes mirrored in his dark ones, the color easily visible as he descended. He began at her mouth. Working ravenously, he used his teeth to scrape over her lips and tongue, gently grazing and sucking them into his mouth. He nipped along her jaw and under her chin. His hard body pressed into her side, then turned her to face him, seeking alignment from head to foot.
They fit against each other well, she thought.
After some time, he pulled back and stared again, focusing in on her face. No, it was above her face. He leaned down again and kissed her hair and inhaled. Whatever he asked of her, she knew she would do.
“Take your hair down for me.”
She struggled to sit up, and he was quick to assist. Then he watched greedily as she removed the pins that held her hair. Darius sighed just before she plucked the last pivotal pin, her dark curls tumbling down in a curtain around her face. He looked happy watching.
Reaching out his hand, he lifted a curl and brought it to his nose. His face, so close she could feel the intake of breath drawing from her and into him. Warm lips came down on her almost desperately, seeking deep entry. His velvet tongue plumbed her as he pressed her back down on the blanket.
Fisting handfuls of her hair, he breathed in the scent, his weight settling back against her side. “I’ve imagined you like this with your glorious hair flowing free, lying in our bed, waiting for me.” His mouth moved to her neck, grazing in the hollows with gentle lips and teeth. “Open the top of your dress. I want to see you, Marianne.”
She did not hesitate. Her fingers moved quickly to tackle the neck cloth and unbutton her jacket. Darius eagerly did the rest. Pushing open her bodice, he was presented with the view of her breasts swelling above an alluring French silk corset. One that he had chosen for her. He also saw the pearls he’d given her. He froze. A ragged breath and then another controlled one.
“You wore them.” Kissing over the tops of her breasts, he purred, exploring every uncovered inch with wandering, but determined, lips. He even kissed the pearl crucifix framed between. “Bellissima, so beautiful.”
Darius’s next move was bold, commandeering in its way. Cradling one hand behind her head, the other reached under her skirt and swept up her leg. She stiffened and shook her head. He just smiled and kept going, up to the top of her thigh. His hand moved inside, toward her heat. “Open up for me, Marianne. You want me to do this. You want me to.”
Sobbing out a moan, she obeyed, moving her legs apart. She quickly succumbed to tremors as his hand burned on her thigh.
“Your skin is so smooth, like the silk that covers you,” he murmured.
Holding the back of her head, he forced her to look up at him. His long, elegant fingers journeyed on, burrowing in between more silk undergarments to the apex between her legs.
Oh God! He’s going to touch me…there.
Her legs grew rigid, and she tried to close them, but Darius wouldn’t allow it. His touch was firm as his determined fingers found her center and buried into the short curls that covered her cunny.
She sucked in a gasp at the feel of his hand plying her.
His fingers pressed a little harder, the pressure allowing her folds to part. That burning hot gate of entry he sought. It burned as hot as his eyes did, seeking complete surrender from her. One finger forged ahead of the others, pressing deeper still, and delved inside.
Marianne jerked hard when he invaded and groaned low in her throat. He was inside her body with his finger!
“Shhh,” he whispered, holding her firmly. “It’s all right,” he crooned at her lips, stroking into her slick cunny with his finger while hovering barely an inch from her face.
Marianne could not hold back the cry that escaped. Darius was so close and overriding she could do nothing but give in to him. But that was what they were both after, wasn’t it? They each had their role to play. He would dominate. She would submit. In that way, both would be getting what they wanted, and needed.
Marianne’s body responded in the only way it could.
When Darius felt her wetness, he arched his brows. “You’re wet for me…and so soft.” His lips brushed hers. “I knew you would be.”
His words, so intimate, burned a path straight through her, laying her open, exposing her completely to his mercy. Arching sharply, her body arced and then froze as she accepted his invasion.
“That’s it. Feel my touch in you. You’re so soft here…and slick. I love that you’re wet and slippery.” His eyes flared before growing hooded.
Dear lord! The things he said made her blush to the roots of her hair. But that did not curb her response to what he was doing to her. With a will all their own, her thighs clenched around his hand and her hips started to move.
Marianne couldn’t keep still—the pleasure was indescribable, setting her afire. Movement was as necessary as breathing.
Darius played her like an instrument, stroking over a swollen nub that shot bursts of sensation each time he drew over it. Slowly, he brought her to life, knowing where to touch and how hard to press. The hot pulses grew higher, more intense, building low in her belly. Nearly out of her mind, her neck straining, eyes closing, she thought she’d surely die
if he stopped all that glorious rubbing. Something was happening to her. Maybe she was dying. She didn’t care though—as long as he kept up stroking her in that most perfect, magnificent way.
“Look at me, Marianne. Don’t close your eyes! Look at me!”
When he commanded her, something unraveled, breaking inside her. Her eyes began to flutter as the first convulsions struck. It was a struggle to keep them open, to obey his command. She tried to. Shudders of explosive current took hold, rushing throughout her body.
Darius stopped the rubbing and pressed the heel of his palm down hard. She felt her eyes welling, and then a single tear tumbled down each cheek as she stared up into his eyes.
The pleasure so powerful, she finally understood the craving Darius ignited in her body when he touched her. This was the culmination of the unearthly feelings he brought about. And it was…magnificent.
“Oh, Darius, you make me feel—” Shuddering into his neck, she panted and rode the wave, unable to finish her words.
“That was a glorious thing to watch, my beauty, you taking your pleasure. You do deserve everything. You deserve what I just gave you, Marianne, and there’s so much more. I will show you everything.” He pressed his lips to the streaks of tears on her cheeks, kissing the wetness away. He nodded slowly. “The next time you feel this same pleasure, it won’t just be my fingers here against you.” Pressing the heel of his hand against her curls and his fingers atop her clit, he elicited an easy shiver and a moan. “It will be this.” He took his hand away and mounted her, thrusting forcefully, his intent as unmistakable as the weight of him upon her.
Marianne felt every inch of his hard cock pulsing against her body, feeling him clearly through their clothes, his hips pushing her legs wider apart. His erection lay flat upon his belly and hit her right at the pubic bone. Instinctively, she offered resistance to his thrust, finding an immediate rhythm in the primeval stroking. He liked that very much, she could tell.
Smiling, he brought the fingers that had touched her to his mouth. She watched him put his lips around them and draw them back. When he pulled them out, he closed his eyes and said, “Like a sweet plum.”
She gasped and clamped her eyes shut. The sight of him tasting the fingers that had just been between her legs was so erotic and intimate, she wanted to hide. It was as if he truly wanted to devour her. She turned her head away, embarrassment flushing her.
“No, no, no, my Marianne, we cannot have that.” He took her chin and gently forced her right back to face him. “Do not turn from me. I will know all of you. I will. How you look, how you feel, how you sound, how you smell, and even how you taste. Every beautiful part…of you…for me to know.”
And Darius didn’t release her right away after that either. He kept her close, on the blanket for a long time, holding and kissing and rocking against her body, whispering to her. Finally, when she was languid and calm in his arms, and Darius seemed satisfied that she had accepted his declaration—that she deserved everything he wanted to give her—he freed her. His words told her how he felt.
“Marianne, you are so perfect.”
Darius, you are so wrong. I am nothing even close to perfect. I have done something unforgivable.
Chapter Seven
Darius looked around the room and tried to settle himself in the moment as Marianne took up the pen and wrote her maiden name for the last time on their marriage certificate. She looked as composed as she always did, so it was hard to judge what she felt. He knew what he felt though, and it involved just the two of them alone together in his bed.
Their wedding had been arranged as a small affair with just family and a few friends. Marianne had asked Byrony to be her attendant, while Darius asked his cousin, Alexander Rourke, Lord Verlaine, to stand up for him. The Rothvales honored them as did the Carstones and others. Darius, being a respected member of the community, was bestowed with sincere congratulations and felicitations.
It was done. The vows had been given, the documents signed. Marianne belonged to him now, and the idea was a blessed relief. Now, if he could just get her alone and be rid of all these bothersome wedding guests! Well-wishes of family and friends aside, Darius wanted her all to himself and found it a challenge to smile genially and to be patient.
“Mrs. Rourke, you are a vision of loveliness, and I find myself jealous of my cousin’s good fortune,” Alex complimented with admiration. “And I can see by the way he glares at me that Darius will be the possessive sort when it comes to you.”
“Thank you for honoring us this day, Lord Verlaine.” Marianne blushed as she thanked Alex, looking so very delectable Darius felt his mouth begin to water.
“Cousin, you are as astute as you are annoying, but correct as ever. My wife is loveliness personified, it’s true, and I am possessive of her. I’ll readily admit to both of your observations.” He drew her hand up to his lips and kissed it reverently. “I cannot help any of it,” he whispered while looking into her eyes, not caring who saw him.
“Apparently so, Darius.” Alex chuckled wryly. “You read as an open book. But I am happy for you both and wish you all the best on your nuptials. You must bring yourselves to Orangewood soon, yes? When you desire for Town? I am sure Mrs. Rourke can find plenty of the London shops to her liking and she still must meet Gray. My brother sends his sincere regrets he could not come to celebrate the occasion of today.” Alex bowed deep. “Look for an invitation and I’ll not take no for an answer,” he reminded as he took his leave.
Marianne embraced Byrony next. Promises of summer gatherings were made and accepted. Byrony’s father, Lord Rothvale, offered his congratulations. “You are blessed, Rourke, and I wish both of you every happiness together. Now, when you can bear to leave your lovely bride for an hour or two, I want you to come and see me and we’ll talk some more about getting you elected to Parliament. I know Verlaine can vouch for you, being family and all. You’d have the ready support of many. The Commons needs good men like you to take up the cause—”
“Yes, my darling,” Lady Rothvale interrupted her husband with a smile. “I am sure Mr. Rourke has other things on his mind right now.” She turned to Marianne. “My dear, you are a most beautiful bride, and the both of you make a stunning couple. I knew you two were meant for each other on the day of the strawberry picnic. I said it wouldn’t be long before Marianne George got herself a new last name. Mr. Rourke had eyes only for you that day, and he still does. I daresay he made an excellent choice.”
“Thank you for coming today, my lady,” Marianne answered, her face a mask of mysterious beauty, revealing nothing of her true feelings, yet suggesting their presence simmering just below the surface.
It drove Darius mad with desire for her. He wanted to know the woman beneath the quiet, graceful exterior. He couldn’t wait to watch her face when she was lost to pleasure and coming undone in his arms as he made love to her, their skin melded together when he was buried inside her. How much longer?
“Thank you, my lady, I can only agree with you on the excellence of my choice,” Darius answered politely, forcing himself to tamp down the lovely image of Marianne in flagrante delicto with him. All he could envision was her face as she lay on the blanket the day he’d taken her riding—the wild look, the surprise, the fire in her as she rode out that first climax under his fingers. He could remember how soft she had felt and would give just about anything to be back there right now. God, he was going to die right here in front of all these people, mad with lust for his beautiful bride! How much longer? Again he shook off the visions creeping into his mind to attend to the guests in his home. Upon their departure, the Rothvales exacted a promise to attend them soon for dinner.
On and on the well-wishing went. They both kept smiling and thanking the guests for their attendance. All Darius really wanted was to pull Marianne into the closest room with a locking door and commence with the wedding night, but he couldn’t do that of course. He had to maintain decorum and stand patiently by her luscious side, g
rowing hungrier as the minutes ticked by.
Mr. George was the last to go. Mercifully he had maintained some sobriety for the occasion, but the haunted look in his eyes told Darius his new father-in-law would hit the bottle the second he was out the door.
With tears in his eyes, he faced his daughter. “You are the image of your mamma, lass. She would have been overjoyed this day.” He took both of Marianne’s hands, his whole body shaking. “Be happy, Marianne, with your husband. He’ll care for you well.” He looked to Darius and then back to Marianne. A wistful look came over him, and he seemed far away in his memories. “I just wish your mamma was here…and also your—” Mr. George cut himself off abruptly, attempting dignity for once, kissed her forehead, nodded to Darius, and made his escape.
The relief they both felt was palpable in the room. But Darius knew it was for very different reasons. Darius guessed Marianne felt relief knowing she had saved her father from ruin, and he was more than happy to give her that. Darius was relieved because his gamble had paid off—he’d gotten his prize. She belonged to him now. His dream was about to become reality.
* * * *
Darius stopped them at the door after escorting her upstairs to the bedchamber. “I’ll come to you in an hour. Your new maid will help you get ready,” he said, his voice thick with suggestion.
Nodding in agreement, she couldn’t help lowering her eyes. Understanding him precisely, Marianne knew why he was coming back and what she needed to be ready for. He had rights to her now, and he would definitely apply them without hesitation. Rights to take her to bed, make her his wife in every way.
“Look at me, Marianne.” The command relieved her for some reason, and when she lifted her eyes she found Darius smiling down at her. “You’ve made me very happy. I just want you to know that. And you were such a gorgeous bride in your dress today. I am a fortunate man. You know, I’ll no longer be just ‘Mr. Rourke.’ I imagine from now on there’ll be an addendum whenever my name is mentioned. I’ll forever be known as, ‘Mr. Rourke, you know, that man with the beautiful wife.’”