What A Lord Wants

by Anna Harrington

  “You are beautiful and vivacious. The most spirited woman I’ve ever met, full of life and passion.” His heart beat a fast rhythm against her back, so strong and intense that she couldn’t separate his heartbeat from hers. “I cannot for the life of me understand why such a precious creature like you would love me.” His voice ached with uncertainty. “But I pray to God that you still do.”

  She admitted in a breathless whisper, “I do.”

  “Then give me the chance to earn your love.” His arms tightened around her, although she couldn’t think clearly enough to decide if from relief or from fear that he might yet lose her. “I’m asking for your forgiveness, Eve.”

  At what cost? Even now desolation pulsed inside her to know that while he might love her, he would always love his art more. She whispered with anguish, “But nothing’s changed.”

  “Everything’s changed.” He placed a kiss to the side of her neck. The affectionate gesture twined up her arm and landed with a simmering warmth in her breast.

  She shook her head. “Your art will still come first.”

  “Not anymore.”

  He turned her to face him. Through blurry eyes and dark shadows, she saw the expression of love on his face, and a sweet lightness soared inside her. An emotion she didn’t yet have the courage to name as happiness.

  “I realized something very important tonight.” He strummed his thumb across her bottom lip, and that tender caress soothed each pained beat of her heart. “That I’m a damned idiot.”

  “Yes, you are,” she agreed chokingly, overcome by roiling emotions.

  He quirked a half-grin at that, accepting her admonishment. Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her.

  “In the past few months, you’ve become more than my model, more than my marchioness and wife. You’ve become my inspiration.” Not breaking his gaze from hers, he stroked his knuckles across her cheek, eliciting a soft tremor from her. “When I paint now, I paint for you. I see your face, hear your voice…With every brushstroke it’s you that I want to please with my art. You, Eve. I can’t go forward, as a man or an artist, without you.”

  She didn’t move, didn’t speak—she didn’t dare to let hope find purchase inside her for fear of being wounded again.

  “You wanted my heart. Well, you have it, darling. You always have. I was just too damned foolish to see it. But I plan to do everything in my power to show you how much you mean to me.” A promise underscored his words, one that stirred a heated ache between her legs. “Starting tonight.”

  Without warning, he lifted her into his arms and carried her quickly toward his bedroom. She threw her arms around his neck with a startled gasp, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. He kicked closed the door behind them and paused only to throw the lock before carrying her to the bed.

  She grabbed at his waistcoat as he followed down after her. “We can’t!”

  “Oh, I think we can.” He grinned at that challenge and captured her mouth beneath his, in a kiss filled with so much yearning and desire that she whimpered. Her body ached for his, even though she knew they couldn’t do this. But he didn’t know—because she’d been too cowardly to tell him.

  She twisted her mouth away from his and shoved her palms against his chest to hold him away. “No.”

  He stilled immediately, searching her face for answers. “You will never again be second to my art, I promise you. You come first now, Eve, in everything.” Misunderstanding her reaction, he tenderly smoothed her hair away from her forehead. “I was a damned fool to think I could keep you apart from it.”

  She blinked rapidly, knowing how much that admission cost him. She could choke out nothing more around the knot of emotions in her throat than his name.

  “So forgive me.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then to each of her eyelids. “Swallow your pride, mia bella, the way I’ve swallowed mine.” Another touch of his lips, this time to her throat, where her pulse danced so wildly beneath his lips that he groaned. “And take me back as your husband.”

  His mouth found hers, and the kiss he gave her was filled with so much love and promise for the future that she melted. She wanted nothing more than for him to make love to her. Every inch of her throbbed and hummed for just that, to have him inside her, to join bodies and feel whole again—

  She tore her mouth away with a frustrated groan. “No, you don’t understand. We can’t because…” She inhaled a deep breath and lowered her gaze to his chest, dreading how he might accept the news—“I’m enceinte.”

  Dom stared down at her, stunned. Good God. She was with child?

  “I wanted to tell you, that day I went to the studio,” she admitted, her faint voice filled with remorse. “But everything was so…wrong between us. And then later, I didn’t want to distract you from your painting. I’d already ruined the first painting you wanted to claim as your own. If I ruined a second one…”

  His heart broke in two, not knowing whether to weep for the pain he’d caused her or soar for joy at the news. So he lowered his head and kissed her.

  “You didn’t ruin anything.” In the end, she’d proved to be his salvation. But a baby…He rested a trembling hand on her belly and felt the small bump beneath his palm, and the invisible connection that stretched between them grew stronger.

  “Are you happy about it?” Distress colored her voice.

  “I am beyond happy.” But that didn’t seem to console her. He touched her cheek to reassure her. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”

  She dropped her gaze to his chest and to his waistcoat buttons as she nervously played with them. The sudden change in her was palpable. And stunning, because she should have been beaming with happiness, so thrilled that she should have been bouncing in his arms—

  Instead, she looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

  “The timing of it…” she whispered. “This baby will change everything.”

  “Yes, it will.”

  When she stopped toying with the buttons, her fingers still trembled against his chest. If the lamps had been lit, he was certain she’d be as pale as a ghost.

  Then she breathed out, so softly that he barely heard, “It will cause problems for your art.”

  That whisper sliced into him like a bayonet. He understood now why she’d not told him before, and the self-recrimination branded him for a damn fool. Because he’d led her to believe the exact same thing about her.

  Scolding himself for being so blind, he took her hand from his chest and raised it to his lips to place a reassuring kiss to her palm.

  “This baby will never cause problems for us.” Her eyes widened at the firm insistence with which he pledged that, then softened with disbelief. “And even if it does, I don’t care. Because this baby—and you—are my primary concerns now.”

  Lead with your heart, and the art will follow…When she started to argue, he kissed her, silencing whatever challenge she’d been about to unleash.

  “A baby, Eve.” He wanted to reassure her but found himself warming with fatherly pride at his own words. “Our baby. How could I not want that?”

  She searched his face, asking hesitantly, “So you’re not upset?”

  He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly against him, burying his face against her shoulder. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered.

  He cupped her cheek against his palm and searched her eyes. “Truly?”

  She nodded. “Except…”

  His chest tightened when she lowered her eyes. The disappointment in her was so strong that it was tangible. He prompted, “Except?”

  “That I can’t make love to you.”

  The realization of why she was refusing him slammed into him. Not because she didn’t forgive him, not that she didn’t want him—he wanted to laugh with happiness! His chest swelled with relief even as her face fell with disappointment.

  “Oh, but you can.” He reached down to untie h
er wrapper and spread it open.

  She trembled and protested weakly despite the quickening of her breath, “But I’m with child.”

  He grinned at her as he took her night rail and pulled it up her legs. “I know.”

  She puzzled at that but didn’t stop him, not even when he slipped his hand between her thighs to tenderly caress her. A soft whimper of need fell from her lips.

  “It’s possible for a woman to make love even when she’s enceinte,” he informed her rakishly as he teased at her folds.

  Her arms tightened around his neck as her arousal grew. “It is?”

  He bit back a chuckle at her hopefulness. “Very much so.” Sweet Lucifer, she was already wet and hot against his fingers. “In fact, I’ve heard that being enceinte makes a woman quite enthusiastic for her husband.”

  He strummed his thumb over the hard little bead at her core, and low moan of pleasure tore from her. “Oh, it does…”

  Hiding his grin by kissing her, he slipped two fingers into her warm core and groaned when all those tiny muscles inside her clamped eagerly around him. She panted beneath him, her bottom wriggling against the counterpane as her body begged for more.

  He’d wanted to take his leisurely time with her tonight, to show her tenderly and affectionately how much she meant to him. But his resolve vanished with each moan of aching desire that came from her, each hot shiver of wanton excitement. She had him stiff as steel already, and even reaching between them to unfasten his fall and free his cock did little to ease his discomfort.

  “But if you’re worried we’ll hurt the baby…” He withdrew his fingers from her warmth.

  A plaintive cry sounded from her lips at the loss of him.

  He took her by the hips and rolled over onto his back, bringing her up on top of him, to straddle his hips. “We can do it like this.”

  The surprise in her eyes melted into a knowing gleam. She leaned over to outline his lips with the tip of her tongue in a wickedly sultry kiss that left him panting.

  “Oh yes, like this.” Resting her left palm on his chest for balance, she lifted her hips and reached between them with her other hand to clasp his cock and guide him between her legs. She nestled his aching head into her silky folds, then slowly lowered herself, taking him inside her tight warmth to the hilt. “Oh yes!”

  For a moment, she stilled, closing her eyes and doing nothing more than sitting perched on top of him, absorbing the sensation of having him inside her again. Unable to resist touching her, he cupped her breasts through the thin cotton of the night rail and teased at her nipples that had already puckered into tight little buds.

  Her eyes opened, and she stared down at him with a look of such love and desire that it hit it him like a punch. Then she began to move, her gaze fixed to his. At first, she gave only a small rocking of her hips over his, slow and controlled, so incredibly sweet.

  But then she sped up. The slow rocking became a full gallop as she rode him hard. Her knees clenched against his sides and her hands clutched at his shoulders for leverage. He grabbed the neck of her night rail and yanked it down to expose her breasts, jiggling gloriously before his eyes.

  “Dom,” she moaned softly, arching her back as his hands kneaded at her fullness.

  She was insatiable and so sensitive that every touch he gave her drew a gasp of pleasure from her. She quivered around him as she drove toward her release, bringing him deliciously along with her. He lifted onto his elbows beneath her, angling up his body so that every rollicking thrust she took now pressed her clit against his hard abdomen and shot pleasure through her.

  “Oh that’s wonderful…that’s so—so—Dom!”

  When he felt her release begin to grip her, he sat up and grabbed her into his arms, to hold her tightly against him as she broke with a cry. He followed immediately after, pouring himself into her with a long, shuddering groan.

  With his heart pounding and his breath coming in gasping gulps, he dug his fingers into her hair and brought his mouth to her ear.

  “You and this baby are everything to me,” he whispered, unable to speak any louder because of the swell of emotions tightening his throat. “You are my inspiration, my purpose, my future…” His eyes stung with tears as he placed a kiss to her temple. “Ti amo, mia bella…ti amo.”

  At that moment, he knew that nothing would be the same again. All the way down to his soul. And he welcomed it.

  Chapter 26

  Preview Night

  The British Institution’s Winter Exhibition

  From across the crowded gallery, Dom watched as Eve leaned in closer to examine the painting. Her eyes were rapt on the work, her lips parted slightly, in admiration for Turner’s technique.

  Sweet Lucifer, she was beautiful. She wore a gauzy, candy-pink dress with a beaded bodice, flowing skirts, and fragile lace straps that slipped down her upper arms to reveal creamy bare shoulders. Her hair was piled high on her head, accentuating the elegant curve of her neck and the pale perfection of her skin. For ornamentation, she wore only a pair of teardrop pearl earbobs, as if she knew she didn’t need the false sparkle of jewels when she shined so brightly on her own.

  Thank God, she’d come tonight. He’d been on edge all day, fearing that she’d beg off. They’d reconciled last night, in ways that left both of them shaken to their cores, but tonight was still about his art. He’d been a selfish bastard, wounding her more deeply than he would ever know, and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d refused to come tonight because of it. He hadn’t even been able to escort her from Mercer House because he’d been required to arrive early for tonight’s event. Because the exhibition was his idea, he’d arranged nearly every detail of it, leaving only the most mundane duties—the hanging of the paintings, the auction, the refreshments—to other members of the Institution’s board. Which meant he had to be here to make certain all went smoothly and to welcome the guests. Which meant that he’d had to entrust her escort to the Carlisles.

  Now he finally had time to seek her out and welcome her as he should, as his marchioness and wife, as a lady patron of the arts. Yet he found that he couldn’t move from his spot, too mesmerized by the sight of her.

  She shifted a step sideways and stopped square in front of his painting. The one of Sally that he’d spent last night touching up until it conveyed the feeling he’d been hoping to capture. Oh, it would never be as good as the painting of Eve. That one remained in a category all by itself. But this one was still excellent and good enough to win the competition. The painting that would launch his new career.

  But he never would have come to this moment without Eve.

  Her gaze swept over the painting. Then she fell still, except for a slight tilt her head as the minute details caught her attention, all those tiny additions and changes he’d made through the night with her as his inspiration. She leaned close to the canvas as she read the signature…Dominick James Mercer.

  She stared at his signature for several long moments, then she blinked hard and swiped her hand at her eyes.

  His heart soared. Her tears were the best compliment he’d ever received as a painter, and ever would.

  When she simultaneously straightened away from the painting and stepped toward the next one, her dress pulled tight across her front. Only for a moment, and then the gauzy material hung loose around her again. But in that instant, the dress silhouetted her lithe figure beneath, and he saw it. The unmistakable bump at her lower belly.

  He smiled, his chest swelling. He didn’t think it was possible to love her more than he already did, but somehow, with every passing moment, he did just that.

  He made his way slowly across the crowded gallery toward her. She was too caught up in the paintings to see him drawing near, her gaze still straying sideways to his signature, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

  He came up behind her and gently took her elbow. Lowering his mouth to her ear over her shoulder, he murmured, “Because of you, my love.”

&nb
sp; Because of you.

  Eve didn’t dare move, not even to face him. She was still trying to absorb all that he’d revealed to her last night, still stunned by the enormity of knowing that he loved her.

  “You’re absolutely beautiful.” He traced his fingertips up her arm in a private caress that shivered through her. “Simply glowing.”

  “Because I’m with child,” she said quietly as she face him, so no one would overhear.

  “Because I spent all night and most of today repeatedly ravishing you.”

  And he had, too. Quite thoroughly. Even now she tingled from it. But she forced out a bored sigh. “Perhaps.”

  When he quirked a brow at that world-class understatement, the gleam in her eyes gave her away, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  He learned toward her to bring his mouth to her ear, and the wolfish growl he gave her sent a longing ache spinning through her. “The moment this preview is over,” he promised in a heated murmur, “I’m putting you into our carriage, where I plan on making love to you all the way home.”

  Her face flushed.

  “Where I plan on making love to you again. Passionately and repeatedly, until you shatter in my arms, until you cry out from how much I love you.”

  At that, her face turned absolutely blazing. “You’d better.”

  Laughing, he scandalously stole a kiss to her neck. That was the only taste of her that he could have in the crowded gallery, but it was enough to reassure her and added to the growing trust between them.

  From the other side of the gallery, the Superintendent of the British Institution raised his arm to gain the attention of the room. It was time for the varnishing to end. The other painters hurried to make last-minute changes to their paintings, but Dom remained at her side.

  “Aren’t you going to touch up your painting?” she asked.