“I know every secret passage in this house like the back of my hand,” he replied.
“There are secret passages?”
He pointed at a life-size portrait of an ancestor on the wall. It was slightly ajar. “I came in through there.”
Rebecca studied it curiously, then hurried to shut the bedchamber door before someone walked by and discovered him laid out like a pleasure god on her bed. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “And you promised to wait an hour.”
“I was bored.”
“You were randy, more like it, wanting to see what’s in that diary.”
She shut the door and faced him. He leaned up on an elbow. “You have me pegged. But let me hear you say ‘randy’ again.”
His teasing tone sent a tremor of excitement through her. Oh, she was doomed.
“Randy. Now please get off my bed.”
He sighed with resignation, then swung his legs to the floor, but continued to sit with his hands curled around the edge of the mattress. “Do you know that you are the most exciting woman I have met in a very long time?”
“More exciting than Lady Letitia?” she boldly asked.
“Far more.”
It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but now was not the time to be bringing up another woman.
“I asked you nicely to get up,” she reminded him, determined to at least try and behave respectably, even though she’d already chopped and burned and utterly annihilated that bridge behind her.
He smirked, then stood up and spread his hands wide. “There. How is that?”
“Better. Now go over there.” She pointed to the fireplace on the opposite side of the room.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Frankly, no.”
He chuckled and sauntered to the hearth, while she moved to the armoire.
“It’s damp in here,” he said. “Allow me to light a fire for you.”
“If you like.” While she reached into the lining of her valise for the old diary, he began to lay out the kindling and strike a match. He was crouched down, his shoulders broad, his torso narrow, his buttocks muscular beneath his formal black trousers, stretched taut.
Holding the diary at her side, she suddenly understood why Lydie had needed to write about her lover and her passions on each glorious page of her diary. She hadn’t wanted to forget what it felt like.
Rebecca was tempted to start a diary of her own. Surely, with this man as her subject, it would be a compelling read. For her eyes only, of course.
He picked up the poker and shifted the logs around, drawing out the flames, sending sparks snapping and floating up into the black chimney, then he straightened and wiped his hands together. He turned and faced her and gestured toward the book she held at her side. “Is that it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“May I look at it?”
Her heart began to pound as she held it out. For some reason when they had agreed to this earlier, she had imagined he would take the diary back to his own room and read it in private—for it was, needless to say, a very private sort of book. But she now understood that he intended to read it in her presence.
He moved across the thick oval carpet and took it from her, then he moved back to the fireplace where the light was better.
He opened the book and read the first page.
Rebecca remained where she was, speechless and paralyzed, as if she were sharing her own diary with someone, for no one else had ever read this treasure she had kept hidden away since the day she’d found it.
Devon stood in front of the fire for a few minutes, then he slowly lowered himself into the wing chair and continued to read.
Eventually Rebecca moved to the bed and sat down. The only noises in the room were the sparks snapping in the grate, the mantel clock ticking, and the sound of pages turning.
She removed her earrings and necklace and set them on the bedside table, then sat quietly, fighting to stay calm while she watched Devon read.
A short time later, he closed the book and looked at her. “This is indeed a captivating tale, Rebecca. I think I should stop.”
“Does it make you feel guilty, because it’s someone else’s private thoughts?” she asked. “I certainly felt that way at first.”
“It’s not that.” He rose to his feet and came to stand before her. “May I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“When you read this book, do you fantasize about doing all the things Lydie does?”
Heaven help her, she wanted him to know. She’d always wanted him to know. “Yes.”
“Do you ever fantasize about it with me?”
“Always with you.”
His blue eyes warmed, then he held out the book. “Read something to me.”
She slowly took it from him. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I don’t think I could bring myself to say aloud some of the words Lydie uses.”
His voice was quiet. “You seemed quite at ease with me in the gallery, remember?”
A passionate fluttering began low in her belly. “Yes.”
A log dropped in the grate, and she looked toward it, feeling strangely mesmerized by the dancing flames.
“Why don’t you turn to your favorite entry,” he suggested.
Seated on the edge of the bed, she looked up at him. I should not let this go any further, she thought. I should ask him to leave. But despite her fears of spoiling everything, she could do nothing but surrender because she desired him.
Rebecca opened the book, flipped through the pages near the start, and began to read aloud.
“Dear Diary,
“Today was my birthday, and Jess gave me a beautiful white stone he had found on a beach when he was a boy. He told me he had been keeping it all these years just for me, even though we met only six months ago. I will never, ever part with it, Diary. Not as long as I live.
“But that is not all that happened today, for I was very, very wicked, and if Mother and Father knew what I had done, they would surely send me away.
“Tonight, after they went to bed, I locked my door, put the lamp in my window, and waited for Jess to climb inside. We could not speak a word to each other for fear of being caught, but we did not need words, such is the depth of our bond.”
Rebecca stopped reading and glanced up at Devon, who was listening attentively. She cleared her throat and continued.
“I never felt such wild desire and passionate yearnings. My blood raced with need as I looked down at his beautiful body. How I longed to touch him and feel his warmth. I sat down on the bed, and he sat beside me.”
Rebecca stopped reading again when Devon slowly sat down beside her.
“Continue,” he said.
Feeling the heat of his muscular thigh touching hers on the bed, she fought her own dizzying desires and swallowed nervously.
“He kissed the side of my neck while he eased me onto my back.”
Devon leaned a little closer and touched his lips to her neck, just below the line of her jaw. His soft kisses sent gooseflesh tingling down her body. She went weak all over and was powerless to resist the lure of sensation as he laid her down on the soft mattress. She knew she should not give in so easily. This was not how she had intended to win his heart, but she could not stop herself.
“Keep reading,” he whispered between kisses as he tasted the base of her throat. Rebecca barely managed to hold the book open in front of her.
“He unbuttoned the top of my nightdress and kissed my breasts, taking my firm, sensitive nipples into his mouth and sucking greedily upon them, until I was filled with such hunger, it was all I could do to keep from crying out.”
Quivering as she was with desire, Rebecca could not continue to hold the book. She let it
fall to the bed and reached up to touch Devon’s face. He kissed her mouth, down the length of her neck, then probed with his tongue into her cleavage at the top of her corset. It was all too much. She wanted him so desperately.
“May I take this off you?” he asked, running his fingers down the front of her bodice.
“Yes,” she replied, for she was floating in the blissful splendor of her fantasies, even when she knew she should be thinking about more practical matters—like whether or not this was wise when she sought a marriage proposal from him.
But she had wanted this for so long, and it wasn’t as if she had just met Devon yesterday. He had been living in her heart for four lonely years. She was eager and aching with desire. She could not deny herself this pleasure.
Soon she was nude from the waist up, feeling no modesty.
With a romantic look of seduction in his eyes, Devon crawled over her on all fours and nuzzled her breasts with his lips and cheeks, tickling her with his hair, dropping wet kisses down the center of her trembling belly until she gasped with delight.
“What happens next?” he asked.
Rebecca didn’t have to open the diary because every word of that entry was imprinted in her mind. “He removes her gown, then takes off his clothes and lays his body on top of hers. Lydie’s heart races with excitement and fear, for she had never been naked with Jesse before. She’d only dreamed of it.”
By the time Rebecca had finished describing the scene, Devon was already unfastening her skirt buttons and untying the tapes of her drawers. She allowed him to undress her completely while her body melted into the excruciating pleasure of all her wildest fantasies coming true.
He slid off the bed and stood to remove his clothes, and when he was nude in the warm, golden light of the fire, Rebecca took in the full splendor of his masculinity. She was captivated.
He came to lie beside her again and stretched out on his back, naked and magnificent like a great work of art. It seemed he was laying himself out for her benefit, to allow her time to satisfy her curiosity and explore the secrets of a man’s body. He presented himself to her generously.
More than eager to begin her exploration and discovery, Rebecca let her hands roam across his chest and down to his muscular thighs, touching him lightly in the firelight—the way Lydie had described doing, on so many incredible occasions.
“I want to be with you,” Rebecca whispered, brushing her lips lightly across his shoulder, “the way Lydie is with Jesse, when he lays on top of her.”
“Honestly, darling,” Devon said as he rose to the task, “you are like no woman I’ve ever met in my life. I am beginning to wonder if you are a figment of my imagination.”
“But I’m real,” she said. “I promise.” She lay down with her head on the feathery pillows.
He rolled onto her, massive and heavy, pressing her into the soft mattress. A sizzling tension filled the air.
“Lydie’s heart begins to race even faster,” Rebecca said. “She is terrified, but at the same time she is overcome by her passions.” Rebecca ran her fingers through Devon’s thick, black hair and shivered with pleasure as he blew gently in her ear.
“But her lover does not take her virginity that night,” Rebecca continued. “He does not exert pressure, physically.”
Devon went still, then lifted his head. “He doesn’t?”
“No,” she replied. “He simply lies on top of her, holding her and looking into her eyes with love and affection.”
“For how long?” Devon asked, sounding rather baffled.
“Until he rolls off her and she rests her head on his shoulder.”
Devon rose up on an elbow. “Are you sure that’s what it says?”
“Yes. Do you want me to read it to you?”
She noticed his chest was heaving, as if he were out of breath, and realized immediately that he was disappointed.
“When exactly does he take her virginity?” Devon asked.
“Weeks later, after he vows to make her his wife,” she replied.
“Weeks, you say.”
She nodded.
He held his weight on one elbow, propped over her, and looked off to the side, thinking.
“But you want to make love to me now,” Rebecca said in a low voice, for she was not a fool. She understood that he wanted more.
Devon met her gaze. “My body has a mind of its own.”
“So does mine,” she responded, appreciating the consequences of such a remark, knowing that she could ruin everything—herself included—if he made love to her without promises.
But she wanted what she wanted—to give herself to Devon and no other, no matter the consequences.
“If I make love to you,” he said, “I will marry you. I would insist upon it. Do you understand?”
Had he been reading her mind? It was exactly what she wanted. Exactly.
“Yes,” she told him. “And I would agree, happily, because I’ve never wanted anyone in the world but you.”
It was the truth, every single word, and right now, she didn’t care if he married her or not. She didn’t care about what she was running from, only that she was here in his arms. Nothing mattered but the blinding passion in her heart, and the love—was it really love?—in her soul.
She felt the pounding of his heart against her chest.
Never taking his eyes off hers, he kissed her softly on the mouth and slowly began to enter her. Rebecca tried to concentrate on the workings of her body while his strength and power made her want him all the more. He was her hero. He could rescue her from anything, and she wanted to give him everything she was as a woman.
She closed her eyes as he thrust firmly, causing a surge of pain until their bodies were joined intimately, and she was his. A new joy swept through her as he moved, and the pain began to recede. His body was slick with sweat and the sensations were feverish and intoxicating. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It was everything she’d imagined it would be.
He whispered sweet words of affection, and she shivered at the touch of his soft lips on her ear. Then he drove in hard and fast, shuddered and groaned, and she felt him climax inside. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to tell him that she loved him, but she bit back the words because they seemed foolish, even to her. They barely knew each other. She was in love with a romantic fantasy she had been cherishing all these years.
But it was real now...
Wasn’t it?
He rested on top of her for a time, then rolled onto his back.
Rebecca stared up at the ceiling—amazed and bewildered. She had just been made love to. By the man of her dreams, Devon Sinclair. Her body would never be the same. Nor would her heart, her mind, her life.
He sighed heavily. “I am spent.” He lay quietly for a while, then he turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Are you all right?”
It was all she could do to manage a nod.
“It always hurts the first time,” he said, apologetically.
“You didn’t hurt me. It was wonderful.”
He turned his gaze to the ceiling again. “How long do you think I’ve been here?”
She tried to guess, but time seemed immeasurable. “An hour perhaps?”
“Will your aunt come to check on you?”
“No,” she replied. “But even if she did, the door is locked, and she always knocks.”
“I would have to hide under the bed, I suppose.”
Rebecca managed a chuckle while struggling to get her mind around this light tone of their conversation. This was all so foreign to her. “If you wish to avoid a caning from her, yes.”
He rolled to face her and rested his cheek on a hand. “I intend to speak to her in the morning. Is that agreeable to you?”
“Speak to my aunt?”
“Yes. I must tell he
r that I wish for you to become my duchess. But I suppose I haven’t asked you properly yet.” He took hold of her hand and kissed it. “You have captured my heart, Rebecca. I am completely besotted. Will you marry me?”
Strange panic exploded in her belly—for there it was. He had said it. He had put into words the very thing she had dreamed about since she’d met him in the forest. Just the sound of the question on his lips—will you marry me—was enough to dry up all the rain outside and bring sunshine into the room even though it was well past midnight.
But of course he would offer marriage. He was a gentleman and she was a gentleman’s daughter. He could not make love to her without knowing the consequences and requirements.
How could it have been so easy?
“Are you certain that’s what you want?” she asked, knowing it was a foolish question. “There are other women here who...”
“I don’t care about them. I only want you. So much of this feels like destiny, don’t you think? But are you sure you want me as your husband?”
“Of course I am sure,” she replied. Could there be any other answer? “I have wanted this since the moment I saw you galloping toward me on your horse four years ago. I cannot begin to describe how I desired you that night, and how I have wanted you every day since. I wanted what we just did, and I will want it again and again and again.”
He smiled. “How is it possible that I have found the perfect wife, so soon after my return to England?” He ran a finger lightly down her front—from the base of her throat to her navel.
Rebecca shivered with pleasure, even while her mind was reeling with disbelief. She had not expected any of this to happen so quickly.
“Perhaps it truly is destiny,” she replied.
And perhaps she was meant to be happy after all.
Devon’s eyes lifted. “If this had not been your first time tonight, it would be my pleasure to satisfy your desire for ‘again and again.’ But I will make the proper arrangements first and give you time to recover. We shall have a respectable engagement, Rebecca, and save any further lovemaking for the wedding night.”
He rolled off the bed and bent to pick up his trousers, which were lying in an untidy pile on the floor.
In My Wildest Fantasies (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 1) Page 11