A Most Delicate Pursuit
Page 14
She swallowed. The longer he held her hands, it was as if he’d some spell over her. Treacherous thing that it was, her body reacted. Her mouth went dry, her breathing became short, and her heart was beating a wild rhythm in her chest.
“Is this wise?” She barely whispered the words. “I mean, when we have to part, won’t it be difficult?”
“Of course, these things are never easy, sweet Beatrice. But it won’t be long and you’ll be on your way to a new life and I’ll be here alone.”
Standing, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. So profound were his touches, so sweet his kisses, Beatrice knew she couldn’t refuse—him or herself.
“For a few days, then,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “But you must promise to end this when the time comes,” she said, the raw need growing in her as she spoke.
“I promise,” he said. Then, lifting her into his arms, he carried her out of the dining room and up the stairs.
—
God, he thought, she is beautiful…
Once again he’d coaxed her into his bed. Lying atop the quilts, breathless from his kisses, her trusting expression nearly ended him at the sight.
“I want you, Beatrice,” he said, his voice a rough, throaty sound in her ears. He could hear her rapid pants against his own gasps, a music of passionate need surrounding them.
Not answering him, she grasped his shirtsleeves and pulled him down atop her, her lips searching his, her legs encircling his waist. Michael almost died at her embrace. But what an amazing death it would be, he thought. His need rushed through him and less than a minute later they were a tangle of torn clothing and heated flesh.
By the gods, the woman vexed him. But what a sweet torture it was…
“Mmm,” he heard her moan. “I’m such a harlot,” she gasped. “I’ve ached for your touch every moment since last night. When does this feeling stop?”
He laughed, the sound rumbling against her neck as he kissed her there. “I must confess,” he told her, “I’ve wanted to bed you at least a million times since our first time.”
“Only a million?” She laughed.
“Well then, more times than this poor man’s mind can calculate,” he said, and then captured her mouth again with his own. As he did so, he slipped one hand beneath her bottom and the other along her body from her waist to her thigh. She gasped as he did so.
“Please,” she whimpered.
The sound of her voice made him stop. It would be too easy to take the lead and push his will upon her. Far too easy.
All at once, Michael realized the true mettle of the woman who’d captured his heart. Beatrice was not one to be forced. She didn’t need a man to lead her, only to love her. He knew immediately why she’d refused all of the men who’d offered her marriage—the wealthy and poor alike. She was a woman who knew her own mind and meant to have her own way of things.
Of course, now that he knew what was needed, he knew how to convince her to marry him. The answer to Beatrice had been quite simple, after all.
Knowing what to do next, he pulled back from her kisses and rolled over to lie beside her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, rolling over to face him. “Why did you stop?”
Michael felt like grinning, like laughing out loud, but he was sure she’d think him a madman.
“I believe, my lady, that it’s your turn.”
Sitting up, she sent him a questioning stare. “What do you mean, my turn?”
Michael almost laughed at that. He didn’t know how it was possible but, flushed with desire, anger tipping the edge of her temper judging by the darkened expression she was now giving him, she looked more beautiful than ever before.
Angelic beauty. The sort of breathless visage that would bring any man to his knees before her. For a brief moment, he pitied all the fools who’d tried to capture her and failed. His concern for others was fleeting, however, when she leaned over him and searched his expression as though her stare alone might pry the truth from him.
“It’s your turn to make love to me.”
It was a simple enough phrase, but the depth of it was not lost on Beatrice. First he saw her confusion, then her surprise, and then caution cross her expression.
“Me make love to you? But, it’s men who…”
“I don’t care what other men do. I only want you, Beatrice. Not sniveling beneath me like some whimpering ninny. You have power over me, my sweet. You always have and you always will.”
“I do?” she asked. But her confusion didn’t last long and the full weight of what he was saying fell upon her. “I do.”
To his amazement, a broad smile crossed her face, and watching the machinations of her thoughts play across her expression was more than a little frightening. In truth, he had never trusted another to take such control while making love. It was exhilarating when she touched his face, exciting when she blew her warm breath across his chest, and almost his complete undoing when she sat up and, rolling forward, straddled him entirely.
Heart racing, he couldn’t help gasping when he felt the raw, naked center of her nestle upon him.
“By the gods, woman,” he gasped and very nearly lost himself in the process. The urge to spill into her was almost more than he could stand.
“Wait,” she commanded him. “Don’t give into it just yet.”
His breath caught in his throat.
His body spasmed beneath her but he held himself together.
“As my lady requests,” he said, though it took all of his effort to do so. “But I caution my lady not to wait too long. I’m only a man, after all.”
He could say no more because this time it was Bea claiming his mouth, kissing him deep and surely with the intention to drive him beyond the edge of his senses. This was new and exciting and his body came alive, as if she’d set him afire. With every kiss, caress, and pinch she gave him, his body responded with pure delight and unquenchable need.
She nibbled his chin, suckled his neck, and then bit by bit drove him nearly mad with every stroke.
“Please,” he cried out. “I can’t stand much more. And we must be careful,” he panted, “lest I lose all control. It will soon become impossible to hold back…”
“I see. You’ve been so good,” she breathed, “to hold your own pleasure until after mine.”
He nodded. “I do try,” he hissed.
“Very well. But first, I have a question to ask you.”
His mind froze. “A question?”
Somehow he felt as if his very life depended on his answer, his body close to exploding, his mind beyond emotion.
“Everything depends on your answer,” she said, her voice strained and echoing the need he felt as well.
“Ask your question, and be damned to the consequences.” He grunted when she pulled away from him.
“Michael Carver,” she breathed above him, “will you marry me?”
Chapter 12
Beatrice couldn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth. How natural it had come to her, to ask such a thing. She felt him tense beneath her and really, she couldn’t blame him. Not only had she killed their romantic playfulness, she’d buried and covered it with ash. Her own heart nearly stopped beating in her chest and her stomach twisted riotously.
There was no denying what her heart wanted now. She had to know before she could spend another minute with him.
Surely he would refuse her. How could he possibly want a woman who’d been ruined from the start and then who now freely gave herself to a man without any thought of propriety or decency? She was tainted and used goods and she knew to her soul that no man would ever really want her.
So she waited above him, breathless and wanting, preparing for the sting of his rejection. There were so many ways he could refuse her. Her thoughts swam around frantic in her head like an overfilled barrel of fish.
Seconds passed before Michael spoke. Then, as if awakening from a dream, he gently caressed her cheek.
Bea swallowed. “Marry me, Michael. Marry me and give your heart and I will give you mine.”
She kissed him then, deep and long, pouring herself fully into him.
When she pulled back, he took her hand and placed it on his chest, just above his heart. “My heart beats for you, Beatrice. I think it always has.”
She smiled. “It’s odd, but I know this is the right choice. Still, I can’t help but be a little sad at saying goodbye to the woman who would have struck out on her own.”
“Who’s saying you can’t? Go to America, Beatrice. But go with me instead.”
She sat up. “Really? You’d leave London?”
“I’d leave it all and never look back. You need only give the command.”
“Oh,” she said. “Then, to America we shall go.”
“Indeed. The only question is, when do you want to have the wedding?”
Bea chewed her lip. “I’d almost forgotten about Bainbridge. The sooner the better, I think.”
He grinned. “Then you’ll be happy to hear that your stalwart brother-in-law is on his way here with a special license this very moment.”
Shocked, Bea sat up. “What do you mean?”
He saw her suspicions rise like the tide of a full moon. He had to set things right or she’d cast him off and he’d lose her forever.
“I mean that Ash was most determined to get you married. Whether to me or not, he’d already had plans to get you married. I did tell him you were far too smart a girl to get yourself leg-shackled to a poor sot like me.”
“I see.” She licked her lips. “That does sound like Ash.”
Michael was careful with his next words. “Do you still want me?” he asked, though he was careful to not ask if she still wanted to marry him, because he simply didn’t care. Married or not, he wanted to be with her and would do whatever it took to stay with her.
“Yes,” she said, and he suspected that she knew as well as he that they’d crossed a threshold that neither of them could step away from.
“Good,” he said, pulling her back down to lie in his arms. “Because I can’t imagine life without you.”
“I do love you.” Bea kissed him again and reveled in the feel of him beneath her.
“And I have loved you since the very first moment we met,” he said.
“You have? Why didn’t you say so?” Bea didn’t want to tell him that she’d been pining for him since the night of Caro and Ash’s engagement.
He looked at her then, his eye wandering over her for a moment before he spoke. “Because everything in my life has been spoiled, Beatrice. My father’s hatred, my mother’s abandonment, my lost fiancée, my wife…” He took a breath. “I didn’t want to spoil you as well. It’s a big step I take, opening myself to you like this. I can no longer deny what I feel for you. But, for the life of me, I can’t help the fear of bringing disaster upon you.”
Bea shook her head. “That won’t happen. I refuse to let anything ruin our happiness.”
He let out a breath and Bea delighted in the warmth of his breath on her skin. “I do believe that if anyone can stave off ruination, Beatrice, it’s you.”
“Good. Now, I command you to make love to me, Michael. I shall wait no longer.”
He laughed and pulled her into his kiss. “As my lady commands…”
—
“Mmmm,” Beatrice moaned after their lovemaking. “I swear, I could stay in this bed forever.”
Michael stretched beside her. “You may do whatever you like, my love.”
“No, there are things to be done and putting them off won’t make it any easier. I’ve got a dozen letters to write, a wardrobe to assemble, and I know I must look a fright.”
“You look beautiful.” He laughed. “But I understand. I’d wanted to take you around the grounds in the morning, but, my friend Braden Winegood is touring the area and has stopped for a visit.”
“You mean Ash’s friend from the army? The Viscount of Waverton?” Beatrice asked.
“Yes. He wants to have another go at Old Walter.”
“Old Walter,” she said. “You mean that deer that everyone goes on about?”
“He’s the finest and meanest buck in the territory. Any man who could take him down would become a local hero.”
“I’ve heard Ash speak of him many times. The beast is legendary.”
“You won’t mind if I go with him? Just for the afternoon, I promise.”
Bea smiled. “You’re asking for my permission? I thought men dictated what was to be done and women bowed to their will. And yet, you allow me to decide. I find that most curious and at the same time very pleasing.”
“Many a man might disagree and suffer the arrows of an unhappy lady.” He laughed. “But as you’ll find out, I’m not most men.”
She sat back and studied him for a moment. “No. You’re not.”
“So, I can go?”
“I can occupy myself for the afternoon, although I don’t see what’s so sporting about shooting a defenseless animal.”
“He’s not as defenseless as you’d think.” Michael laughed. “Managed to outsmart every hunter who’s ever traversed this forest for over a decade.”
She sighed. “Off with you, then, as long as you don’t mind if I take the side of Old Walter. It’s my hope that he dodges your arrows for another day.”
Michael laughed and pulled her into his embrace and kissed her again.
“I’ll return and give you a proper thank-you then.”
“Blasted man,” she said as she watched him fall asleep. She’d gotten herself in a boil now, for certain.
Despite her best efforts not to, Bea had changed.
And Michael had not. Oh, the true man had been hidden beneath layers of guilt, pain, and fear, she was sure of it. But there was so much more to him. She knew that by confessing her love to him, she not only set herself free, but him as well. By accepting him into her heart, she had saved them both.
Though she’d known the public Michael Carver for two years, did she really know him at all? One moment he seemed to be an angel and the next, the devil himself. Worse than that, Bea didn’t know which one she liked better.
“Oh, the scoundrel.”
—
“Are you ready, my lord?”
Michael looked at his reflection in the cheval glass. The valet was right on when it came to choosing the best attire for any occasion. He now looked quite impressive in his hunting ensemble, complete with a dark brown jacket and trousers, and black Hessian boots polished to perfection. He’d have to thank Ash at the first opportunity.
“There you are.” Braden Winegood, the Viscount of Waverton, had just arrived earlier that morning and was on his way to London. He was passing through after visiting one of his distant relatives in the south.
“Braden”—Michael nodded to his valet, who brushed his jacket one last time and left them—“are you sure that you want to go hunting so soon? Didn’t you just finish a round in the north?”
“I did, but those paltry lands are nothing compared to the Great Forest. I swear, this lodge has vexed more than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Michael laughed. “Because you haven’t met the right one.”
“And you have?” He stepped back. “Something’s changed about you. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were happy.”
“You have always been very perceptive.” Michael snorted. “There’s no hiding from you.”
“So, you offered for Her Grace’s sister-in-law and she accepted?”
Michael grinned. “Not exactly. She asked me to marry her, and I accepted.”
“Truly? Then this is a day fo
r celebration. Break out the champagne and we’ll throw a fete that will raise the countryside.”
Michael held up his hand. “Not yet.” He motioned his friend to the dressing room door and the two of them set off down the hall. “I adore Beatrice. She’s beautiful and has a quick wit. I love her.”
“By the gods, you have gone mad.”
Michael shook his head. “We’re to be married as soon as Ash arrives with the license.”
“You have been and ever will be a fine soldier, Michael. I salute you.”
“What the devil are you on about?”
His friend shrugged. “You set out on a campaign to marry Ash’s sister-in-law and prevailed.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he started and then thought better of it. Why did anyone need to concern themselves with his business after all? “Well, it was in the beginning, but then things changed.” He scoffed. No good trying to explain it.
“Truly, I’m not judging you, my good man. I’m applauding you. You’ve managed to net the most difficult woman in all of Britain.”
Michael turned to his friend, his curiosity peaked. “Why are you so concerned about my marriage? Haven’t you got worries enough of your own?”
Braden gave him a grin. “I’ve no more worries than most.”
Michael followed his friend to the stairs, wondering what the man was about. Was he “checking in” on the happy couple for Ash? It wouldn’t be unheard of. Beatrice was his sister-in-law, after all.
They reached the main floor and headed toward the front entrance. “I’ve already had the groomsmen ready the horses and bring them to the courtyard.”
It was to be a simple affair, both of them hunting with bow and arrow with the hounds. He’d been hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Old Walter. But now, after hearing Beatrice’s thoughts, he decided that a sighting would be enough.
“I’ve only to choose among the available young women,” Braden said as they walked to the courtyard.
“What’s keeping you single?” Michael asked as they mounted their rides. “After all, a decorated young man such as yourself, a viscount even, is quite the catch.”