Meanwhile, pleasure built with each delicious push of his body. She arched her back, moving into the sensations. He pushed back up onto his arms and rocked forward, hard. Then again and again, thrusting into her with such force, she scarcely knew how to hold onto her sanity.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And I’m yours.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh yes.”
“Mine, mine, mine,” he said each time he pressed into her.
“Yes!”
The pleasure peaked swiftly, quicker than she’d anticipated, crashing around her like the ocean waves. It thundered through her and she gripped Russell’s body tight, clinging on for dear life while it ebbed up and down her body until it seeped away, and she was left satiated and limp.
Russell bundled her to him and stilled, his body frozen in pleasure. With a deep groan, he released into her, moving gently inside her until his muscles relaxed. He dropped a gentle kiss to her lips and Rosamunde smoothed her palms up and down his damp skin.
“I am so sorry.”
She smiled. “For that? There is definitely nothing for which to apologize there.”
He hesitated. “I meant for leaving you. And for my words. But I shouldn’t have...” He indicated between them.
“Oh.”
“Unless...” He blew out a breath.
“You don’t need to apologize. I wanted that.”
His lips tilted, the slightest hint of a smile upon them. She pressed her fingers to his mouth and traced the curve. “You should smile more often.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He eased out of her and rolled onto his back, drawing her with him so that she was cradled in one arm.
She lifted up to view him, tracing a finger across his chest and the puckered scar that sat over his heart. “You’re still smiling,” she teased.
“Fine. Maybe get used to it. Occasionally.”
“You are quite handsome when you smile.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you saying there are times when I’m not handsome?”
“Goodness, I did not mark you as a man of vanity. Perhaps I have you all wrong.”
He shook his head and rubbed her shoulder. “You seem to understand me better than anyone. Somehow, you knew precisely why I was such an ass when you told me of my father.”
“You think you are all mysterious, but I do not believe you are as elusive as you’d like to think.”
He eyed her, that smile still hovering on his lips. “You would be the only one to think that.”
“I’m the only one to know you,” she declared.
“That might very well be true.”
She dropped her head to the crook of his shoulder and took a moment to absorb the feeling of being so safe in his arms. “Did you speak with the Earl of Henleigh?”
“I did.”
She lifted up again to look at him. “And?”
“It’s true.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t get much chance to hash it out with him because I thought someone was in trouble.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “Mabel said she hadn’t heard from you and was worried.” He blew out a breath. “I thought I might have lost you.”
“Gosh. I did send a letter. Perhaps it is simply delayed, but I am not sad it brought you back to me.”
“Neither am I, but it doesn’t make me any less of an ass for leaving you in the first place.”
“Perhaps not but I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” She kissed the very corner of his mouth, where his lips were curved upward.
“Oh?”
“Or maybe many ways.” She kissed his chin, the side of his face, even the tip of his nose.
“Many ways,” he echoed. “I think I can do that.”
Suddenly, he shifted, rolling her onto her back and covering her body with his. “Many, many ways actually. After all, I do have a lot of apologizing to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Take off your coat.”
Rosamunde’s eyebrow arched as Russell entered their room at the inn.
Russell chuckled. “Not like that. I just mean we aren’t going anywhere today.” He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of the wooden chair.
Tucked into one end of the building, the room in which they were staying was split into two, with a dressing room just past the fireplace. He’d thanked God Rosamunde had booked herself into a relatively respectable establishment but many of the hotels on the coast served sailors and other coarse types, so he didn’t regret rushing to her side.
He didn’t regret a damned thing. Not even spilling inside her many a time last night. After this was all over, he was going to ask for her hand in marriage.
He allowed himself a smile.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” If he was going to do it, he’d do it properly. Approach her father and buy a house somewhere. He might be no gentleman, but he’d treat her like the lady she was.
“I take it it’s too windy again.”
He nodded and set his hat on the hat stand. “No ferries today.”
She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Why is it England can never make up its mind when it comes to the weather? We’ve had such warm, sunny days recently.”
He peered out of the window that overlooked the docks. “It’s still sunny, just damned windy. The waves are too big for such a small boat.”
“I missed the one pleasant day because of you.” She slunk over toward him, looping her arms around his waist. “I was about to catch the ferry when you arrived.”
“I know you’re keen to find your Uncle Albert and we will, I promise. Chances are he’s staying on the island and could not get a message to you with the seas being the way they are.”
“I’m beginning to conclude you are right.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “And at least you made it worthwhile.”
“Minx.”
She pressed herself up against him and kissed him lightly, leaving him wanting more. He inhaled slowly and fought to slip back into his usual mode—the all business Russell that was not entirely infatuated with this crazy, wonderful woman. It was a fight, but he needed to keep his head level while he was protecting her. As much as he was certain Albert wasn’t actually in trouble anymore and this was all just a lack of communication, he couldn’t afford to lower his defenses.
God knew, he’d done enough of that yesterday.
“Rosie,” he warned when she slipped her hands between them.
“You know I used to hate people calling me that, but it feels nice to hear you say it.”
“I could always call you Lady Rothmere,” he offered.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not think about my late-husband when I am with you, thank you very much.”
“I’d certainly rather you not think of him either.” A knock at the door snared his attention and he strode over, letting in the maid.
“Food?” Rosamunde asked.
He nodded. “As we’re not going anywhere, I thought it best we have a decent meal.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Some of us haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime.”
And some of them had used up a ridiculous amount of stamina making love to the most beautiful woman in the world. He didn’t say it aloud, but her eyes crinkled at the corners and he knew she was thinking the same.
The maid set out the food and left them to it. He motioned for Rosamunde to sit then dropped onto the chair opposite her. A slightly overcooked pie nearly spilled over the edge of the plate, its crust thick and flaky. They’d also been provided with a jug of ale and two cups.
“Remember the last time we shared an ale?” She gestured to the jug.
“An ale? If I recall correctly, you had several and were quite merry afterward.”
“You know, I never did get around to asking you that last question,” she mused.
He paused, his knife halfway through the pie. “You had better make it a good one.
”
“I think I should be allowed many more questions after last night.”
“Was it not enough to satisfy you, my lady?”
“I was certainly satisfied.” A lovely blush creeped into her cheeks. “But only in one way. My curiosity will never be satisfied I suspect.”
“You always do seem to enjoy getting into trouble.”
“I do not intend to!” she protested. “But I cannot help myself. I have always wanted adventure, and no one seems to understand that.”
“I can, in a way.”
“But you’ve had a lifetime of adventure. Surely you do not want more?”
“Not more adventure, no, but I always wanted more. Ever since I was a boy, all I could think of was having everything I never had.”
“And now you have it.”
He nodded. “I do, and more than I could have imagined, but it never seemed enough. At least not until—”
“Until?”
No, he couldn’t say it. Not yet. If he was to do this, he’d do it properly.
“That was a question,” he pointed out.
“No!” She shook her head vigorously. “That scarcely counts as a question.”
He smirked. “Fine. Ask away. After my behavior, I cannot deny you anything.”
“Any question?” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Goodness, I must have millions.”
“Go on then, but I’m going to eat while you think.” He took a bite of pie and despite the slightly burnt crust, it melted in his mouth. He ate swiftly and she watched him for a few moments, her eyes wide.
“I never noticed how rapidly you eat.”
He shrugged. “I cannot help myself. I guess it comes from the days when I didn’t know when my next meal would be.”
“I would have to agree.” She cocked her head and eyed him. “What will you do, now that you know you have a family?”
“I haven’t thought about it much, but I cannot see that things need change. I don’t need charity.”
“But will you try to have a relationship with your brother?”
He stilled. He had lost any anger toward Guy now, but it was hard to consider having a real brother. Having said that, Guy was about the closest thing to a friend he had, and he did not much want to lose that, despite himself.
“I suppose I will.”
Her lips curved. “You are softer than you realize, Marcus Russell.”
He was. Softer than she realized too because he knew now, he’d do anything for her. He’d settle down and play the son of an earl and see his brother for dinner parties in the country and take walks in the park and attend charity balls or whatever the hell gentlemen did. He’d do it all. But only for her.
ROSEMUNDE COULD NOT quite fathom why he kept getting that odd little smile on his face, but she rather liked it.
“I think I should get to ask you questions too.”
She furrowed her brows. “Me? But you know everything.”
He leaned in, his smile growing wicked. “I know many, many things about you but I want to know more.”
She glanced at the made bed.
He chuckled. “I appreciate your belief in my stamina, Rosie, but even I need sustenance and rest occasionally.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Forgive me. It has been a long time since…well…and it was never like that.”
“Good.” He took a long gulp of ale. “It might make me a barbarian, but I’ll be damned if I like the thought of you being with another man.”
“It definitely makes you a barbarian, but I quite like it,” she admitted.
“Good to know. I’m not a gentleman,” he reminded her.
“I am aware of that,” she said primly. “But I am barely a lady.”
He shook his head. “You are most definitely a lady,” he said. “An unusual one but still a lady.”
“I do not feel much like a lady after, well…” She gestured to the bed.
“Why did you marry?” he asked abruptly.
Rosamunde blinked a few times. “It was what I was meant to do.”
“I don’t think I could ever persuade you to do anything against your will.”
“I was young. Only eighteen. I hardly knew any different.”
“And yet you wanted more?”
“I did.” She pushed the remainder of her meal around the plate with a fork. “But I did not know how to get it.” She released a long breath. “I did not enjoy being married much but I do not regret that I have freedoms now that most women do not. Besides, it could have been much worse. You must know that with what you do for women.”
His mouth stretched into a thin line. “That I do.” He met her gaze, seeming to search for something. “Your family talked of your remarrying.”
“Apparently one marriage isn’t enough for them. They mean well, though, they only want to ensure I’m looked after.”
“Despite the fact that if there is one woman who does not need looking after it is you.”
She rubbed the end of her nose. “It’s hard to imagine being married again.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“How is it you ended up questioning me? You offered me full access, if you recall?”
Russell opened his arms wide. “I’m at your disposal.”
Goodness the thoughts that rushed through her mind at his words. At her disposal. To think she had spent all night with this man in her bed and she would likely get more. They had not spoken of the future, but he wanted her as his. She was hesitant to let herself think of anything more. They would be lovers, maybe for the rest of their days, was her conclusion. How could she let herself think of anything more when she knew how averse to the idea of family he was?
“How did you gain your wealth?”
“Lots of business deals and investments.”
“Yes, but how did it begin?”
He hesitated. “Pickpocketing to start with.” He watched her reaction, so she concentrated on keeping it neutral. “Then I managed to get a job at the docks. I saw the goods coming in and made note of those products that were most in demand. It was easy to figure out what the next big thing would be. So once I had enough saved, I invested.”
“That’s mightily clever of you.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always been one to observe. It came naturally to me.”
“Why do you still live modestly?”
He motioned to his clothing. “None of this is modest.”
“You have never spoken of a house or arrived in a carriage, and I am certain my family would know if you had some great country pile somewhere. I have to assume either you do not wish to show them to me, or you have neither.”
“I don’t do possessions particularly, no,” he agreed.
Another reason why she should not picture a specific future for them.
“Do you wish to?” she could not help herself asking.
His eyes took on that odd intense look, the one that said he was keeping his feelings to himself. Perhaps she had asked too much. He’d already surprised her with his candor.
“You do not have to answer that.” She offered a quick smile. “You have already answered more than I anticipated.”
He shrugged. “I can deny you nothing, Rosie. You should know that by now.” He finished his ale. “And there is certainly one thing of which I wish to take possession.”
His eyes darkened and her breathing quickened in response. Her body was already attuned to him, still warm and flushed from his touches and kisses last night. She moistened her lips with a quick dart of her tongue and fought for a response through her desire-muddled brain. How she could feel such a way after a night of lovemaking, she could not fathom, but she had a suspicion this would never abate. They would always be able to light the fire with the tiniest spark.
Russell saved her a response, standing up so quickly that his chair fell to the floor with a thud. He scooped her up in one swift movement and carried her over to the bed then
laid her down. He moved over her, his gaze hunting hers. “You said you were mine, do you remember?”
“I remember.”
“Good.”
“You thought I had forgotten?”
“Perhaps.”
She shook her head. How a man like Russell could seem so vulnerable at times, she did not know. Creases were etched between his brows and she smoothed them out with a finger. “I’m yours, Russell. To do with as you wish.”
“As am I,” he muttered, coming down for a kiss. “As am I.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The white cliffs of the island gleamed under the morning sun. Wind threatened to tear the hat from Russell’s head, so he kept one hand on that and another around Rosamunde’s waist. Despite the clear day, the seas were still unpleasant, and he regretted he’d ignored his gut and allowed the ferryman to take them out. Still, they were nearly to the shore and in one piece. He jumped out when they reached the beach and aided the old man in dragging the boat up onto the shore then aided Rosamunde onto the soft, damp sand.
A hand to her bonnet, she peered up at the cliffs. “There’s nothing here.”
The ferryman shrugged. “The tides have taken us about a mile from Fishbourne. It’s not too far a walk.” He gestured toward the small cluster of buildings that could just be seen farther along the island.
Russell peered at the town. “It won’t take us long,” he assured her.
She gave a tight smile and took his offered hand so he could aid her across the sand toward a narrow path that cut through the slope of the grass. Unease ate into his gut, but he couldn’t tell if it was because something was amiss or that this would soon be over.
Not over, though, he told himself. She’d talked of being uncertain about marriage, but she still wanted to be his. That had to mean something surely? He blew out a breath. These were uncharted waters for him, and he could scarcely recall the last time he’d been doubtful of his next move.
“I hope he’s there,” Rosamunde said once they were away from the unsheltered coastland, nodding in the direction of the town.
Stealing the Heiress (The Kidnap Club Book 2) Page 18