More Than Willing

by Laura Landon

Three steps led to the columned portico, and two wings extended outward on either side of the entryway. From where she stood, it was impossible to take in the manor’s entire width.

  She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Never had she fallen in love with any home so completely.

  He didn’t speak. She waited, hoping he’d say something but knowing he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Thankfully, the door opened and several footmen rushed down the steps, followed by a very stately gentleman dressed in maroon and black livery.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Delaney,” the butler said with a bow that rang with sincerity. “Allow me to help you and the young lady inside.”

  Gray nodded his greeting then looked down on her as if the butler’s comment had reminded him she was there. Maggie knew she must have looked as frozen as she felt because he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

  “Thank you, Boswick. I’m afraid there is no luggage.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  The butler didn’t seem shocked at Gray’s announcement. He ordered the footmen back to the house.

  Gray didn’t move, but stood as if mesmerized by the sight before him. His gaze traveled from one end of the mammoth three-story stone structure to the other. He studied and evaluated every balustrade and guarding lion perched on the parapet with obvious pride. But there was a visible change in his features when his gaze reached the north wing.

  He stared at the third floor windows as if expecting to see somethingor someone. The longer he watched, the more intent his gaze became, and a heavy film of perspiration beaded across his forehead.

  She couldn’t stand to see such torture in his features—to see him hurting so.

  She pulled one hand out of the fur muff she’d brought and wound her arm around his waist. It seemed natural to hold him, acceptable to want to comfort him. With a deep sigh, she leaned into him and held him.

  “Those were my mother’s rooms,” he whispered, pulling her closer against him.

  “I know.”

  Maggie tried to keep from giving in to him so completely but she couldn’t. She turned into him and laid her cheek against his chest.

  His heart thundered in her ear, keeping rhythm with her own as if they were a part of each other.

  “I didn’t ever want to come back here.”

  “I know.”

  He held her a few moments longer then leaned down and pressed his cheek next to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear, then he lightly kissed her cheek before pulling away from her.

  “Is the stable staffed?” Gray asked Boswick.

  The butler nodded toward the two men who were running to help.

  “Let them take care of the horses and come inside,” Gray said to Cleary. “Cook will give you something warm to eat and drink.”

  Gray’s confusion obvious, a place deep in her chest ached when he turned to the butler. “Is there a cook?”

  “Of course, sir,” Boswick said. “Mrs. Hathaway still rules the kitchen with an iron hand.”

  “Mrs. Hathaway,” Gray whispered with affection and a lump formed in her throat.

  “I believe she’s busy making a peach cobbler for dinner,” the butler added as he led the way up the snowy walk.

  Gray’s hold on her tightened as his footsteps faltered. She felt the pull this place and the people here had on him. And the battle that waged for him not to let them.

  They trudged through the snow, their progress slow and labored. The snow fell harder now than before. By the time they reached the foyer to Mayfair Manor, she was chilled through and through.

  “You’ll be warm soon,” Gray said, shaking the snow from his cloak and his hair. But Maggie half-listened to him. She was busy taking in her surroundings. Beautiful didn’t do Mayfair Manor justice. Perhaps magnificent, or amazing, or breathtaking could be used to describe the classic grandeur of Gray’s home.

  “It used to be quite a splendid place,” he said, leaning down to unfasten the closure beneath her chin.

  “It still is.”

  His fingers stopped beneath her chin and he lifted his gaze to look at the twin winding staircases that led to a second floor balcony. The wood leading up the stairs was a rich, polished oak and an ornately carved railing ran up each staircase and across the balcony that overlooked the circular entry hall below it.

  Gray took it in for several long seconds, then closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “When was this redone?”

  “After the fire, sir.”

  “Who ordered the work done?”

  “Your father, sir.”

  Gray still had hold of her open cloak. His fingers grasped the fabric tighter and Maggie placed her hands atop his to ease his grip.

  As if he suddenly realized what he was doing, he released his hold and dropped his hands to his sides.

  “Maggie, this is Boswick. Boswick, Miss Margaret Bradford. Boswick will show you to a room and send someone to help you. Just ask if there’s anything you need.”

  “Gray—”

  “Boswick, send some hot tea and something to eat up to Miss Bradford’s room.”

  “Right away, sir. I’ll show Miss Bradford to the yellow room and send Jena up to her.”

  “Fine. Fine.”

  “Gray—”

  “Just ring if you need anything. Boswick will take care of you.”

  Gray walked away from her and through the second door down a hall off the foyer. “What’s in there?” she asked Boswick as he handed her cloak, muff and bonnet to a waiting footman.

  “The master’s study, Miss.”

  “I see,” Maggie said, looking at the closed door a final time before she followed Boswick up the stairs and into one of the most beautiful bedrooms she had ever seen. Only now the beauty around her had lost some of its cordiality and warmth.

  Gray had taken that with him when he walked away from her. Maggie wanted to go to him and comfort him more now than she’d ever wanted to before.

  That she was so weak where he was concerned worried her.

  The idea she’d already fallen in love with him terrified her.

  ****

  Maggie lay in the spacious four-poster bed and listened to the muffled sounds of an unfamiliar house in the darkest hours of the night. Usually, she felt uncomfortable spending the night anywhere but in her own bed, but Gray’s home didn’t seem strange at all. In fact, for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt as though she belonged here. She knew she didn’t, of course, and never would, but all through dinner, then after when she sat in the morning room and watched the snow pile high in the garden outside the double French doors, she was consumed with a warmth that she never experienced when away from Bradford House.

  Maggie tossed from one side of the bed to the other then gave in to her restlessness and sat up. She propped a pillow against the massive oak headboard and leaned against it.

  Everyone was in bed—everyone except Gray. He hadn’t come up yet. She knew he hadn’t because she heard him moving about downstairs. Then, an hour or more ago she’d heard a noise that sounded like glass shattering.

  She wanted to go down to make sure he was all right, but she told herself leaving the safety of her room wasn’t wise, so she stayed in bed. But she hadn’t been able to fall asleep, and the way her stomach turned in knots, she knew sleep was nowhere in sight.

  With a sigh of frustration, Maggie tossed back the covers and got out of bed. She slid her feet in the slippers the maid Jena had given her when she’d brought a nightgown and robe that smelled like the oleander and roses it had been stored in.

  Maggie ran her hand across the soft, silky material and wondered if the elegant nightdress had once belonged to Gray’s mother. Somehow, she knew it had, and Maggie felt like she’d been given a glimpse of a woman she’d never know.

  With a sigh of regret, she pulled a coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then walked to the window and pulled back the velvet drapes. The snow was still falling a
nd even though Maggie didn’t want to face the possibility, she knew it was doubtful that they’d be able to leave tomorrow either. A heavy rock fell to the pit of her stomach and stayed there.

  She dropped the drape back into place and leaned her forehead against the soft velvet. How on earth would she ever survive another twenty-four hours this close to him? He consumed every waking moment.

  She knew how difficult it had been for him to return to Mayfair. He’d been desperate to avoid coming back because it meant having to relive what had happened here.

  She pulled the coverlet tighter around her shoulders and pressed her fist against the ache in her chest. She didn’t know caring for someone would hurt so much. She didn’t know—

  His footsteps sounded as he climbed the stairs.

  Her heart increased its steady rhythm the nearer he came. His gait as he walked down the hall was laborious, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  He slowed when he neared her room, then stopped in front of her door.

  The blood pounded in her head as she waited for him to either open the door, or go away.

  He didn’t move for what seemed an eternity and she waited.

  She knew there would be no turning back from whatever he decided and she held her breath as she kept her gaze on the knob.

  His labored breathing came from outside her door. She knew he struggled with the decision he was about to make.

  Then slowly, silently, the knob turned and his dark, powerful outline filled the entryway.

  It took him a second to realize she wasn’t in bed, then another second to search the room for her. When he found her he didn’t move.

  Then, with deliberate care, he stepped inside her room and closed the door.

  Neither of them spoke. Maggie hoped he wouldn’t shatter the silence with words.

  He didn’t.

  Without asking permission, he walked across the room until he was close enough that one more step would put her in his arms.

  He didn’t touch her, but looked down on her as if he needed to memorize every feature of her face.

  Her heart ached for him. That place deep inside her chest she’d convinced herself couldn’t be affected by anyone, especially a man, wept for him. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears that caused her vision to blur.

  She knew he was going to speak before he opened his mouth and she prayed it wouldn’t be to ask permission for whatever it was he needed from her.

  He breathed in a harsh breath and nestled her cheek in the palm of his hand. “Maggie, I need you,” he whispered in the most heart-wrenching tone she’d ever heard.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  With a mutual offering, she took the one step that brought her into his arms. In one swift movement he lowered his head to claim her lips.

  His kiss was hungry and greedy and he drank from her as if he were dying of thirst. Even when she gave him as much as she thought would satisfy him, he seemed to want more. He pulled her closer to him and tilted his head as if that angle gave him an advantage.

  She matched his kisses and offered him all. He was hurting and she wanted to help him heal. He’d lost something and she’d give him whatever it took to make him whole. He’d been alone so long he needed to be loved. And she desired to be the one to offer love.

  She opened her mouth and deepened her kiss. A hunger she’d never experienced before consumed her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and brought him closer, then pressed herself against him. She was as desperate to have him as he was to have her.

  A flash of understanding exploded inside her head and for the first time she realized something she’d refused to admit until now. She hurt as badly as he did. And she needed him to help her heal.

  She’d lost the same thing he had. And she needed him to give her whatever it took to make her whole.

  She’d been alone too long. And she ached for him to love her.

  “Maggie, I—”

  “Shh,” she said, pushing his open shirt off his shoulders. “Just want me.”

  His moan was filled with gratitude and desire.

  With her arms still wrapped around his neck and his mouth locked with hers, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Her robe and nightdress fell away with little effort and his naked flesh felt strangely wondrous when he came down over her.

  He kissed her again while his hands moved over her body and Maggie thought she would burst into flames. She’d never thought she’d experience this. She never thought that if she did, it would be like this.

  “I’d never hurt you if I could help it,” he whispered in her ear as he entered her.

  She sucked in a harsh breath and closed her eyes until the pain lessened. He didn’t move, but waited until she relaxed before he shifted. The pain was gone and each powerful thrust carried her to a place she’d never believed existed.

  She’d have plenty of time tomorrow and every day for the rest of her life to think about why she’d fallen in love with Gray Delaney. Plenty of time to remember the feel of him in her arms and inside her body. Time to regret that she’d never be brave enough to risk her future with him.

  With her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs wound around his hips she soared with him far above the real world. When she couldn’t hold back any longer, she cried out and shattered into a million pieces before she plummeted back to earth.

  She waited for him to join her and within seconds he did. He thrust into her once, then once again before he dropped his head back onto his shoulders and stilled. He shuddered in her arms and with a low moan he spilled his seed deep inside her.

  Maggie clasped him to her and skimmed her fingers over his damp flesh. His heart thundered in rhythm with hers and his chest heaved with exertion.

  Oh, she didn’t ever want to forget this night. She didn’t want to forget the way his muscles quivered beneath her touch. Or forget the look in his eyes or the expression on his face when he made love to her. She’d always remember the feel of him inside her, and the wondrous weight of him atop her after he’d found his release.

  He lay against her, his forearms propped on either side of her body, his ruggedly handsome face nestled in the crook of her neck, and his gasping breaths whispering across her heated skin.

  She held him close and brushed her fingers through his hair. She’d dreamed of doing this since the first time she saw him. Dreamed of raking her fingers through his hair and running her hands across his broad shoulders and holding his naked flesh in her arms. Even his scarred back was a unique part of him she never wanted to forget.

  She just prayed that when she woke up tomorrow her dream wouldn’t turn into a nightmare.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maggie woke up in the bed alone. But she’d known she would. She’d heard him leave several hours ago.

  She lay in the dark, trying to force her muddled mind to rationally evaluate what she’d done. It refused. Finally, she got up and scrubbed the spot on the bottom sheet so there wouldn’t be any evidence of what had happened last night. Then she wrapped a cover around her shoulders and curled up in a chair.

  As the light of a dreary winter day stole into the room she had no choice but to face the future.

  She clutched her hands to her middle and thought again about what had happened between them last night. And what the ramifications of her actions might be.

  He couldn’t force her to marry him. She was seven and twenty. Old enough so no one could force her into marrying if she didn’t want to. Except, this morning she wasn’t as sure of what she wanted as she’d been the day before.

  How would she ever endure a life without him?

  Maggie closed her eyes and remembered what her mother had said all those years ago when she’d asked her why she’d married her father. Because I couldn’t live without him.

  She squeezed her eyes tighter and let a river of hot tears stream down her cheeks. Did she regret what they’d don
e last night? How could she regret something so wonderful? And yet…

  How could she live such an empty existence for the rest of her life if he wasn’t in it?

  Maggie brushed the tears away when a maid rapped softly at the door. “Come in.” She sat up straighter and brushed her hair back to make it look as if she’d had a calm, restful night.

  The young maid who’d attended her last night entered with a tray. “Cook sent me up with some hot chocolate and warm scones.”

  “Thank you, Jena,” Maggie said, giving the young girl time to put the tray on the table. “Has Mr. Delaney gone down to breakfast?”

  “No, Miss.”

  “Ah, he must still be abed.”

  “No, Miss. His room is empty.” Jena poured the hot chocolate, then stepped away from the table. “Will you be needing anything else?” she asked before she left the room.

  “No, Jena. That will be all.”

  Maggie stared at the closed door then took the cup of hot chocolate and sipped.

  It shouldn’t matter to her that Gray wasn’t in his room. It shouldn’t matter where he went when he left her. But it did.

  She waited until Jena returned to help her dress.

  “Do you know where Mr. Delaney is?” she asked after she was dressed and her hair was arranged. “I thought perhaps I’d ask him to show me the house.”

  The pleasant expressions on Jena’s face fell away.

  “What?”

  Jena swallowed before she spoke. “The master isn’t likely to give you a tour of the house, Miss. Cook sent a tray to his study this morning because she said she doubted he’d leave the room until the weather cleared enough for him to leave Mayfair.”

  “I see,” Maggie whispered.

  Jena left the room and Maggie sat for several minutes before she found the courage to do what she must.

  With her shoulders back she left the room and walked down the winding staircase that led to the right side of the foyer. Without giving herself time to lose courage, she knocked on the door that Boswick had told her was Gray’s study, and waited.

  She didn’t hear him give her permission to enter but she hadn’t expected that he would. He obviously intended to spend his time here in isolation.