The Reluctant Marquess

by Maggi Andersen

  By the end of the week, his restlessness eased, and he slept deeply. She watched him anxiously, her eyes gritty with tiredness. Was that a sign he was getting better? Or worse?

  Charity woke at dawn and rose quickly from her makeshift bed on the chaise. Days had passed, and she had no idea how many. She stretched her aching back and went to pick up Robert’s wrist to check his pulse as she always did. She sighed with relief. It felt steady and strong.

  Fingers curled around hers, making her gasp. She hesitated, afraid to look up, and then as hope filled her, did so. Blue eyes studied her. “How long have you been sleeping there?”

  Relief made her knees weak. She placed her free hand on his brow, finding it pleasantly warm. Thank heaven. “Normal.” She gave a long shuddering sigh, and perched on the edge of his bed, smiling into the face she loved. His eyes were bloodshot. Well, she was sure that hers were too. In fact, she must look a fright.

  She put a hand to her hair and fiddled with her collar.

  “You look perfectly lovely, if a little tired,” he said croakily.

  He frowned. “My fault, I fear.” He gave her hand a shake. “I asked you a question. How long have you been sleeping on that chaise?”

  “Since you came here.”

  “And how long is that?”

  “I don’t know, some days.” Her lips trembled, and tears blurred her vision. She hadn’t cried since they’d brought him here. She’d been too intensely devoted to making him well. And she’d been afraid to, for crying seemed so final, as if it would seal his fate.

  His lip curved in a smile. “I can see I’ll have to ask someone else.” She sniffed, wiped her eyes and laughed as she straightened his bed covers. “Are you hungry? I’ll ring for food.”

  “In a minute. I want to talk to you.”

  “Let me get you some brandy first.”

  She rose and went to the bureau to add brandy to a little water. She returned and slipped an arm around his shoulders to help him drink it.

  He drank half a glass and sank back down again gratefully. “Thank you.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes taking in every loved feature, his teeth white beneath cracked, dry lips, his angular jaw badly in need of a razor, his dark hair in a tangle on the pillow.

  “We can talk later. You must eat.” She stood to pull the bell sash.

  “No. Do as I say, wife.” He coughed. “Sit down. I have something to say.” A muscle tightened in his jaw.

  Was he about to tell her they would part? She obeyed him, sitting back down, afraid of what he might say. To delay hearing the words, she smoothed his sheets. “I must get these changed when we can move you.”

  “Will you let me speak, Charity?”

  Charity swallowed. “But I can tidy you and make you more comfortable, while I listen, can I not?” It would be better if she could hide her face from him. He must never know how much she cared.

  He sank back on the pillows, closing his eyes, a wry smile hovering on his lips. “You seem intent on fussing about, so please do.”

  “I’ll just send for more hot water.”

  When the servant came to her summons, she requested the hot water and a tray of food. “Tell Cook something light. He’ll know best.”

  Charity picked up his hair brush from the dresser and returned to the bed. She began to brush his hair, smoothing it away from his brow.

  He closed his eyes. “Mm, that feels good.”

  “You have very nice hair,” she said to distract him.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist. “So do you. I like it hanging down your back and over your shoulders. Naked shoulders …”

  Charity’s pulse raced and hope filled her heart, but she hid her delight and shook her head. “I don’t intend to encourage this conversation. It’s not good for you.” There was a knock at the door. “And here’s the water.”

  Dipping a cloth in the lavender scented warm water, she proceeded to wash his face, gently dampening his dry lips. Lips she badly wanted to kiss. He lay there meek and uncomplaining under her ministrations. After patting his face dry with a fresh towel, she continued to wash his throat down to the vee in his nightshirt, skirting the bandage at his shoulder. Her hand lingered on his chest, smoothing the dark hairs there before she dried it.

  “That feels nice.” He gave the glimmer of a smile. “Do you intend to wash every inch of me?”

  Charity tamped down a rush of yearning and raised a brow, looking as stern as she could. “I don’t like that gleam in your eye. I believe I’ll send for a male servant to do it.”

  His brows snapped together, and the old Robert appeared.

  She didn’t know if she was glad or sorry. “Not bloody likely.”

  “Very well,” she said mildly, not at all sure she could keep herself in check.

  She pulled up his nightshirt and began to wash his chest and the ribs of hard muscle over his stomach. She had not seen his naked body clearly in daylight and caught her breath at how athletic and strong he was. She lost her nerve and skirted the male part of him. Ignoring his faint protest, she stroked the cloth over each long, muscled leg and gave far more attention to his feet.

  “Unfair!” he said with a lazy smile, as she dried him.

  She swiped a loose lock of hair from her forehead with her forearm. “You’ll do for now.”

  A gleam brightened his eyes. “You promise to be more thorough tomorrow?”

  Charity rubbed her neck muscles as they loosened with relief. He had forgiven her. “We shall see how you are tomorrow, my lord.” She briskly straightened the bedclothes. “Now if you can sit up a little, you must eat.”

  She smoothed his bedding and arranged his pillows as he eased himself up painfully. “Charity, I came to Cornwall to tell you I was sorry. Sorry for everything.”

  She caught her breath. “So am I. So very sorry, Robert.”

  He shook his head, those vivid blue eyes gazing earnestly into hers. “You have nothing to apologize for. Before I embarked on this cursed trip, I went to see my mother. I made my peace with her.” His voice rasped with emotion. “Your wise words, my love, made me realize I was no longer that hurt boy. It was quite amazing how light-hearted I felt after I’d straightened things out between us.” He sounded boyish, and it made her smile.

  “Oh, I wish I’d been there,” she said, thrilled. “I do so like them all.”

  “They’re not so bad. Well, all except Charlesworth. Pompous boor.”

  She laughed and didn’t remind him she’d accused him of being pompous more than once. She shook her finger at him. “We shall see them all when they come to visit.”

  “All right,” he said sheepishly. “Charlesworth does appear to care for my mother.” His eyes took on a sleepy, intense look, which sent her pulse racing. “You can make me feel a lot better with a kiss.”

  She leaned over the bed to press her lips to his, feeling warmth and contentment replace the tension and icy fear she’d suffered. This was what she had always wanted, and where she was meant to be. His left arm grasped her waist and drew her against him on the bed. She tried to pull away, but he was surprisingly strong. “My lord!”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Blast and confound it!” Robert reluctantly released her. The servant placed a plate of food on a table.

  Charity checked the bandage with a tiny smile. “Most timely! We wouldn’t want you re-opening that wound.”

  “Sorry for the profanities, my love,” Robert said after the servant departed the room. She tucked a napkin under his chin.

  He grinned. “What do we have to eat?”

  “It’s a Cornish pasty.” Charity cut the savory up into small pieces. “I asked Cook to make them after the servants told me how tasty they are.

  The men working in the tin mines take them for their lunch. The filling is made of potatoes, meat and turnips.”

  Robert dug his fork into the meat.

  At the end of the second week, Robert insisted he get up. After t
he doctor sanctioned it, he dressed and walked with Charity through the gardens. The cool breeze off the ocean ruffled the leaves of the trees which had turned glorious shades of crimson, gold, and russet since she’d arrived here.

  He stopped to rest, a hand on her shoulder and glanced about. “It is very nice here, I must say.”

  “I hope you’re not going to demand we return to London soon.” Charity gazed up at him. “I’d like to stay until you’re completely well.”

  He raised a brow. “You’d like to stay even after I’m well, wouldn’t you?”

  “Not if you don’t, but I do love it here. I’d like to see the other properties too. Sometime in the future when you’ve fully recovered.”

  “And you shall. I will have to see to business there before the year is out. There’s a hunting box in Leicestershire, a pretty house in Hertfordshire built of grey stone, and I haven’t seen the villa in Italy, but I believe it has wonderful gardens and a fine view. I’ll enjoy taking you. We never had a honeymoon.”

  “I would like that.”

  He looked at her, amused. “Yes, you wanted to live in Italy, didn’t you?”

  She screwed up her nose. “Only to annoy you. You were so insufferable.”

  He widened his eyes. “Was I?” His gaze grew solemn, but she detected a glimmer of humor there. “I suppose I was.”

  “You’re here, and that’s all that matters,” she said, deciding not to pursue it. There was love in his eyes at last. It made her feel warm and cherished and she no longer wished for them to examine things too closely. It seemed better to put the past behind them and start afresh.

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, placing his cheek against her hair. “I want to make love to you, sweetheart.”

  “I want that, too,” she murmured against his chest. “But are you strong enough?”

  He cast her a hot glance. “Would you like me to carry you back to our chamber to prove it?”

  The raw lust in his eyes thrilled her, her desire fighting against the worry that he might damage himself. “Please don’t do anything to set back your recovery. I couldn’t bear it.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’ll be gentle.”

  The memory of his gentle lovemaking reassured her. “I know you will.”

  Robert held her hand and led her back to the house. At the door he said, “We don’t wish to be disturbed, James.”

  James managed a poker face as he bowed.

  Charity’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Did he have to say such a thing? In broad daylight? How scandalous! She followed Robert up the staircase, their hands still linked. Just the promise in his hot blue glance sent shivers racing through her body. By the time they reached the chamber, her breath had shortened and her nether regions clenched with nervous desire.

  They had only made love once, and although every part of it was etched on her memory, she felt as if this was the first time.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Robert abandoned all pretense and snatched her up in his arms. He sought her mouth in an urgent kiss. Caught up in the excitement and the months of longing, Charity ran her fingers through his silky hair as his tongue plundered her mouth, their rasping breaths loud in the room. They separated to tear off their clothes. She undid the buttons on her gown, as he stripped off his shirt. Stepping out of the pool of fabric at her feet she kicked it aside. The sight of his splendid physique made her thighs tremble. She shivered at the touch of his quick fingers unlacing her corset. It fell to the floor along with her panniers. His hands slipped round to cup her breasts through the thin material of her shift, then he pulled it over her head.

  “You’re beautiful, Charity,” he said his voice husky.

  She stood proudly naked apart from her stockings, garters and shoes. He undid the buttons of his breeches tented by his erection and they joined the pile on the floor.

  A burning heat in her belly, she admired his strong manly beauty, the long line of thigh and the curve of his backside, muscles rippling across his back at each movement. No trace remained of the invalid beyond the puckered red scar on his shoulder hidden by the bandage.

  She had to touch him and ran her hand over his broad chest. “You don’t have much chest hair. I like that.”

  His eyes gleamed, a mix of humor and suspicion.

  “Compared to whom?”

  She laughed. “I saw my father’s chest once, that’s all.”

  He held her hand moving it across his chest. “Do you like the feel of a smooth chest?”

  She took a deep breath. “Oh, yes.” She was startled when he moved her hand lower and she felt the soft black hair growing from below his navel down to … She blushed and pulled her hand away, wanting to touch him. “Don’t you wear anything under your breeches?” she asked to cover her embarrassment.

  “Not when my plan is to seduce you.” Robert grinned and pulled the shift over her head, then kneeled at her feet to remove her shoes, peel off her pink satin garters, then her silk stockings, almost shredding them in his haste. Clasping her velvety bottom, he pulled her closer, finding himself at just the right angle to kiss the juncture of her thighs.

  “Oh!” Hands to her mouth, Charity attempted to back away, but he held her close. It delighted him that she tasted of fragrant soap and woman, and he teased the folds of her delicate peachy skin with his tongue. Her knees buckled and she emitted little cries, holding onto his shoulders. “Oh, Robert,” she whispered, “Take me to bed.”

  “My pleasure, my love.” He rose and they stood naked for a brief, incredibly erotic moment, and then came together flesh to hot flesh, burning where they touched. He swept her up and carried her to the bed.

  Charity murmured half-heartedly for him to put her down, but stopped at the determination in his eyes. Feeling his strong, hard body against hers, she let her worries go and coiled her arms around his neck. His longing matched her own feelings.

  Both had suffered pent-up desire from months apart and the unfinished business between them.

  He gently laid her down.

  Robert leaned over her on the bed, his arms braced, his gaze feasting on the beauty of the woman he’d come to love dearly.

  So long denied this pleasure, their coupling would be fierce. His blood thrummed through his body, demanding, banishing the ever-present-ache in his shoulder. Their first time was too brief.

  He was determined to have Charity enjoy every moment of their lovemaking. He lowered his head and sought her lush, swollen lips, his tender kisses turning wildly passionate as she curled her arms around him.

  He nuzzled a small ear and kissed his way down her long graceful neck to the hollow in her throat, then her breasts, feeling the weight of each in his hands and paying close attention to a dusky-rimmed nipple until it peaked. He turned his ministrations to the other, loving her small mews of pleasure.

  When he parted her legs and returned to stroke her there, Charity squirmed aware of how wet she’d become. Ignoring her protestations, he continued until she thought she would die from the waves of exquisite sensation. His fingers probed inside her, his thumb teasing that small nub of intense feeling until she couldn’t take it anymore. She let out a loud sigh which turned into a moan and then a plea. Growing bolder, she took his erection in her hands and stroked the length of it, marveling at how it grew even harder beneath her fingers. The blushed skin was silky smooth beneath her fingers, yet rigid beneath. She fondled the head and the soft sacs beneath. How strange and how different from a woman’s body, and yet how perfect.

  He made a noise deep in his throat. “If you keep doing that I’ll spend,” he said tightly, moving her hand away. He gave a strained grin. “Another time, my love.”

  She couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside her, and knew he couldn’t either. She gasped, “I want you now, Robert!”

  “Why?” he asked teasingly, kissing and licking his way down her body, making her moan.

  She ran her fingers through his thick ha
ir and gave it an impatient tug. “Because I love you.”

  He gave her a lazy grin. “And I love you.” She looked ready to hit him.

  “Darling, please!”

  “You are ready for me?”

  Charity gave a sob. “Yes, my darling, yes.”

  Robert entered her with one swift stroke, thrusting into her hard and fast. Charity lifted her hips to meet him with each thrust. Incoherent words tumbled from her lips, as she raked his back with her fingers. The bed banged against the wall. A painting crashed down from its perch.

  “I love you, Charity,” Robert said fiercely, thanking God he was alive to say it.

  He settled into a smooth rhythm enjoying the feel of her breasts rubbing against his chest, her thighs hugging him close and her small mews of pleasure. Her body felt warm and welcoming. This was where he was meant to be and his heart burgeoned with love.

  A sudden sharp pain stabbed at Robert’s shoulder, and drew an involuntary curse from him. He paused and swallowed at the force of it.

  “What is it darling?” She took his face in her hands, her voice fearful. “Have you hurt yourself?”

  “No. It’s nothing, just a bit of discomfort.”

  “We must stop.”

  “Stop?” He would not be denied and neither would she.

  Distress rumpled her brow and her mouth trembled with alarm and disappointment. “Oh no we won’t.” The demanding throb in Robert’s balls distracted him more than the ache in his shoulder.

  “Might we try something else, sweetheart?”

  “Yes. Anything.”

  He pulled himself back against the headboard and lifted her over him. One long, perfumed lock of her hair curled over her shoulder, falling to the gentle rise of her belly. He raised it to his nose and breathed in its fragrance then tucked it back over her shoulder.

  He wanted to see all of her, the emotions flitting across her lovely face, the curve of her bouncing, beautiful breasts and her long legs. He guided himself inside returning to the slick, wet warmth with a groan of delight.