“I’m not even going to the bother to look. I’ve decided I don’t want a titled gent. Which is the reason I’m here. To gather all the memories of this place while I may.”
“And then?”
“You said that leaving me had never been easy. When did it become difficult?”
He glanced off to the side, toward the curved end of the small alcove that allowed for privacy. It was one of the reasons she’d always felt safe here. She could dance with no one watching, could be carefree and lighthearted, and not worry if she behaved like a hoyden rather than a lady. His gaze came back to her. “The night I kissed you in Kingsland’s garden. Long before that, probably.”
She felt as though she’d unlocked a wooden chest and unearthed a secret treasure. Leaving her had never been easy. Nothing about her had ever been easy. Just as nothing about him had ever been easy. But she’d only recently realized why. “How long have you loved me?”
He closed his eyes, and she watched the muscles at his throat work as he swallowed. His sigh was carried off by the breeze. Finally, he opened his eyes and captured her gaze. “Forever.”
The tears stung her eyes, and her chest felt as though it was caving in on itself. Her heart sped up and slowed and seemed to have lost its ability to beat with any sort of rhythm. “Why did you never tell me? Why did you never let on how you felt?”
“Because I’m a second son, and years before I knew about the conditions related to your inheritance, I overheard you tell Althea that you would only marry a man with a title. I would never have one. And now, Kathryn . . .” Once more his gaze slid past her. “God, the things I’ve done. As you know the blood on my hands wasn’t always mine.”
She was no longer shocked by the truth of what he’d done, but it seemed he still struggled to come to terms with it. “But it was there in defense of others. Whether you were working the docks to provide for Althea or battling dangerous men in order to protect Marcus . . . or to protect me. Kingsland wouldn’t go down on one solitary knee for me. You went down on both. With no hesitation, even knowing if you misjudged my ability to decipher your message, you would likely be killed. You sacrifice for others, asking nothing in return.”
“I deserve nothing in return. Want nothing in return. I don’t do it for personal gain.”
She’d come to realize even the letter he’d written to Kingsland hadn’t been because of his damned wager. He’d been seeking to give her what she longed for. But just as he had changed over the passing months, so had she. What she yearned to possess, what she considered important. What mattered.
She placed her palm against his jaw. “I love you, Griffith Stanwick. I turned the duke away because I would rather have a lifetime with you than a cottage by the sea.”
With a groan that sounded as though he was in pain, he placed his hand over hers, turned his head, and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “Ah, Kathryn, you deserve so much better than a man who has done the things I have done.”
“You’re wrong there. I want to spend my life proving it to you, showing you that you aren’t an afterthought, a spare, or being held in reserve. That nothing you’ve ever done makes you unworthy of anything. To me, you’ll always come first, my first love, my only love. And I promise I won’t be quiet while proving it, nor require that you be quiet, either. Will you honor me by becoming my husband?”
She brought him to his knees. Even though he was sitting, he still felt as though he’d dropped to them. Somehow, it seemed appropriate that this woman who thought rules should apply equally to both genders would be the one issuing the proposal.
He scooted up, scooted nearer, and cradled her beautiful face between his scarred hands, hands that no longer seemed to define him. Within her eyes, the ugliness of his past didn’t matter—and that was all that concerned him. How she viewed him. “Do you fully understand what you’ll be giving up?”
“I fully understand what I’ll be gaining—all that I’ve ever dreamed of acquiring.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Ah, Kathryn, you humble me. The honor will be all mine, sweetheart. Yes, I’ll be your husband and love every minute of it. Just as I love you, with everything within me.”
He claimed her mouth as he’d longed to do from the beginning, as though it belonged to him and him alone. She was sustenance, air, life. She was all that was good in the world. She was all that mattered in his. Brave, beautiful, and bold.
She had never written to the duke, had never wanted Kingsland, and Griff had done her a disservice by striving to determine her destiny. He would spend the remainder of his life making that up to her. She would be his partner in all things. His helpmate. The one he turned to when decisions were needed, the one whose opinion he sought above all others. The woman who had turned down a duke for a second son. Turned away a gentleman in favor of a scoundrel.
She was on the verge of discovering how much of a scoundrel he could truly be.
Without taking his mouth from hers, gently he eased her down to the blanket and swung his body around so he lay beside her. He eased his mouth from hers, returned for another taste. God, he’d never have enough of tasting her.
Only now no guilt was associated with the indulgence. He was no longer in danger of taking anything from her. She’d chosen him.
With a growl, he took her mouth again, thoroughly and completely, relishing the feel of her hands digging into his shoulders, into his back. Rolling to her side, she swung her leg over his hip, hooking her calf against his buttocks, and sliding herself closer until her soft haven was pressed against his straining cock.
Her hand skimmed along his chest, freeing buttons as it went. When she ran out of buttons on his shirt, she started on the ones at his trousers.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he went to work on the ribbons of her chemise. With a laugh, she separated from him and began tugging off what little clothing she wore, tossing it aside, seemingly unbothered by the wind catching it and carrying it a short distance away.
He pulled his shirt over his head. Shucked off his trousers.
With dual laughs, smiles, and eyes sparkling, they came together. He’d never known such freedom, such joy.
Her skin was so pale glistening in the sunlight, and he imagined freckles were forming even as he dotted her breasts with kisses. “I have long wanted to see you in the brightest of lights.”
“It’ll be brighter at noon.”
“I can’t wait that long to have you.” He circled his tongue around her nipple, drew the little pearl into his mouth.
Moaning low, she writhed beneath him. “I’ve come to enjoy the manner in which you tease me.”
“You tease equally.”
As though to prove his point, she shoved him onto his back and proceeded to taunt and torment with touches, licks, and bites, while he used his hands to pinch and console. There was no part of her he didn’t touch, no part of her he left bereft. He worshipped every inch of her.
Then he cupped her face between his hands, guided her gaze to his. “I don’t want a quiet wife, Kathryn. I want you to scream my name.”
“Only if you’ll scream mine.”
She could hardly believe what she was doing, outside, along the shoreline. Fishermen never came into the cove. No one ever did, but still the possibility that they might be spotted—
She truly did not care. Not when his hands were roaming over her as though every dip and curve had not been touched before. Not when she was straddling his hips and could see his cock jutting so proudly, straining . . . straining for the pleasure that she could provide.
After scooting farther down, she lowered herself to that beautiful part of him that could bring her such pleasure, that would see to children growing within her. And lapped at it as she had an ice concoction she’d eaten in the village last summer. With a harsh curse, he arched toward her as he burrowed his hands in her hair and dug his fingers into her scalp.
“Do you like that?” she asked innocently before lifting her gaze to
his, surprised that the fire burning hotter than the sun in his didn’t ignite her on the spot. Never taking her eyes from his, she kissed the head, licked the dew that had gathered there.
Then she closed her mouth over him, and his feral growl echoed around her, as he jerked and his breathing grew harsher. So she could drive him as mad as he did her. With a long wet stroke of her tongue and a suckle, and a low moan to affirm that she liked what she was tasting. And a wicked smile.
“Christ, Kathryn.” Reaching for her, he brought her nearer. “You’re going to make me spill my seed, and I want to be buried deep within you when that happens.”
“Don’t leave me this time.”
He gripped her hips. “I won’t. Never again will I leave you.”
Lifting her up, he guided her down the length of his shaft, stretching and filling her. She dropped her head back, saw the top of the cliff, and wished she’d have a lifetime of looking up at it with him. But she would have the memory of now, rocking against him, moving in rhythm to the pace he set, languid at first, matching the cadence of the waves rolling in and out.
Sensations rippled through her. She touched him everywhere that she could reach. She loved the strength of him, the defined muscles, the dips, and shallows. The manner in which his arms bunched as he held her. The way he looked at her, as though she was the sun and the moon and the stars.
When pleasure cascaded through her, she cried out his name, and it echoed around them, quickly joined by his guttural howl that was her name, the sounds weaving together as their lives would. Bending forward, sated and content, she rested on top of him, savoring the feel of his arms folding around her, holding her close.
For several minutes, she simply absorbed the warmth and comfort of him. She wouldn’t need her dances on the beach any longer. She had him. “When shall we wed?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Perhaps we could get married in the church in the village.”
“We’ll get married wherever you like.”
It was early in July. She had a few more weeks to gather memories here, memories with him. “Afterward, although I know you’ll need to be in London each day to see to your business, as it’s not such an awful distance, perhaps I could stay here and you could join me each day until the middle of August.”
“You can stay here as long as you wish, visit whenever it suits.”
Silly man. He hadn’t yet recovered enough from making love to her to think clearly. “It goes to my cousin the day after my birthday,” she reminded him.
“Actually, Kathryn, he’s giving it to you as a birthday present, to celebrate you reaching a quarter of a century.”
Sitting up abruptly, she stared down at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned with such satisfaction and so much love in his eyes, that she thought she might melt on the spot. “He has decided he has no use for it and would prefer to see it in your hands.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he has secrets to be kept.”
She threw a hand over her mouth, striving to decide if she should be horrified or thrilled. “You threatened to reveal his secrets?”
“Took me nearly a week to discover them. Then we had to have a discussion about them. Otherwise, I’d have come to you sooner.”
“You scoundrel. If he weren’t so odious, I might feel badly for him.” With a laugh, she hugged Griff as hard as she could in their prone positions. “But I’ve no doubt he deserved a visit from you. I love you so much, Griff.” Then she sat back up. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel that you owed me—before I asked you to marry me.”
“You were planning to ask me to marry you?”
“Mmm. But I prefer the way it happened.”
So did she, but still she liked knowing he would have asked if she hadn’t. “Acquiring the cottage must have been done at great inconvenience to yourself.”
“Indeed, it was. Although, this time I won’t ask for anything in trade because you’ve already given me the only thing of importance I could ever want: you.”
On a sunny Saturday morning, they were married at the village church, with only close friends and family in attendance. She had little doubt that the curious would have filled Westminster if they’d married there, but she had no interest in putting on a display for anyone who had ever shown him even a teaspoon of unkindness.
Her parents weren’t particularly pleased, didn’t understand her giving up a duke for a rapscallion, but they did give their blessing to the union, and her father walked her down the aisle. Althea and her husband were there, but Marcus was noticeably absent, and while Griff didn’t give any outward indication, she knew he was worried about his brother and the fact that he’d heard nothing from him since that night by the Thames.
After the ceremony, everyone strolled down to the shoreline for a picnic that Mrs. McHenry had prepared. Simple fare along with champagne and wine.
Laughter and conversation floated on the wind. The sun glinted off smiles. As a couple of gents from the village played a tune on their violins, her husband waltzed with her over the sand.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Very. Today is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Wait until we get rid of this lot”—grinning, he jerked his head to the side, encompassing all the Trewloves and their spouses, Wilhelmina, and Kathryn’s parents—“and I can have my way with you. I’ll show you perfection.”
She eased closer to him, her bosom brushing against his chest. “What do you have in mind?”
“Making love to you until dawn.” His brow furrowed as he stilled. “Who is that?”
He turned her so they were both looking toward the path. A woman in a very proper dark blue frock was cautiously making her way down it. “I don’t know. I don’t think she’s anyone from the village. We should probably let her know this is a private affair.”
Holding on to Griff’s arm as he escorted her, she strolled over to the woman who appeared to be only slightly older than herself. “Hello. May we help you?”
The stranger gave her a very serious study from her bare feet—she’d removed her shoes as soon as she reached the sand—to the top of her head. “Mrs. Griffith Stanwick?”
Kathryn smiled. “What gave me away?”
“The white silk and lace gown and the veil brushed back from your face,” she responded with such seriousness that Kathryn wondered if she should bother to explain the question had been rhetorical. But before she could say anything else—
“I’m Miss Pettypeace, secretary to the Duke of Kingsland. He asked that I have this delivered to you on your wedding day, and as it seemed incredibly important to him, I decided to see to the responsibility of placing it into your hands myself.”
Kathryn took the envelope she’d extended toward her. “What is it?”
“Something he wished you to have.”
It seemed Miss Pettypeace took everything quite literally. “I do hope the duke is well.”
“Why would he not be?”
Well, obviously he wasn’t suffering from a broken heart, which made her feel somewhat better.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Stanwick.” She turned to go.
“Miss Pettypeace?”
The young woman glanced back at her.
“Would you care for some refreshments before you leave?”
“Thank you, but I haven’t time for such frivolities. I must away to London and tend to some other important business for the duke.”
“Safe travels, then.”
With a quick nod, the duke’s secretary headed back toward the path.
“Well, she’s certainly an efficient sort,” Kathryn mused.
“Are you going to open the letter?”
She tucked it inside Griff’s jacket. “I think I’ll read it later. At the moment, I have a waltz to finish.”
And another and another. As the sun arced through the sky and the champagne f
lowed. As her friends and family shared in her happiness.
When the sun began sinking into the horizon, before they took their leave, the revelers gave them one last round of well-wishes. While Griff accompanied Althea and her husband to their coach for a few final words, Kathryn stood at the edge of the cliff and read the letter Kingsland had sent her.
My dear Mrs. Stanwick,
I debated the wisdom of sending you the enclosed and decided it was something that belonged with you.
I would wish you every happiness, but I find it pointless to wish for what one already possesses.
Yours,
Kingsland
She wasn’t surprised his missive was short and to the point, rather suspected marriage to him would have been as exacting. Although, perhaps he’d known nothing that he could say would compare with the additional letter he’d enclosed.
My Lord Duke,
You have asked the ladies to explain why you should honor them by making them your duchess.
I would argue that you do not want a woman who believes it an honor to have your attention. Rather, you should seek out a lady who makes you realize it is an honor to have her attentiveness directed your way.
To that end, I suggest you select Lady Kathryn Lambert, sole daughter, only child, to the Earl of Ridgeway. Unfortunately, the lady does not have a tendency to recognize her own attributes that make her so stunningly appealing to a man, and I have little doubt her letter will put you to sleep before you have finished reading the first paragraph. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to champion her cause for becoming the next Duchess of Kingsland.
As you no doubt noticed during our encounter at the park, she has a quick wit, a biting tongue, and a sharp mind. She is a keen conversationalist, and while you want quiet in a woman, I believe you would find it a mistake not to seek out her opinion on all matters, whether they relate to your home or your myriad businesses or the management of your various estates. Her thoughts are not muddled but are concise, and she can offer a viewpoint you might not have otherwise considered. I have never known her to be capricious or irritatingly insipid.
Scoundrel of My Heart EPB Page 24