Penniless until the earl.., p.19
Penniless Until the Earl's Proposal, page 19
‘To us,’ Marcus said as he handed her a glass of red wine.
‘To us,’ she murmured, raising her glass and gently tapping his before taking a sip of wine, ‘and to a new beginning.’
There was a pause as their eyes held for a moment, the peace between them unspoken but there all the same. It had been a while coming, and they both felt it deeply. She felt herself tremble with wonder, and the relief at being here with him surged through her entire body. But it was more than that. With Thomas receding into the past, Marcus had released what had been lost inside her, had set free her ability to feel the emotions that swelled her heart—her ability to love. She was ready to relinquish her guard, like a snake shedding its skin.
‘What do you think of Mulberry Hall? Although having grown up in the grandeur of Endcliffe House and surrounded by the trappings of the nobility, perhaps it does not impress you as much as it would some.’
Juliet’s eyes were alight with interest as she gazed at the pictures and furniture that harmonised perfectly. Turning to look at her husband, she realised he was awaiting her reaction. There was an expectant hope in his handsome face, and she could not deny him.
‘On the contrary. I am impressed. It is very fine indeed,’ she murmured, taking a seat by the hearth, ‘and just as I remember. Few brides are presented with so much. Usually, it is the groom who receives what his wife brings to him as a dowry, which I have failed to provide.’
‘I told you. None of that matters. You will find that I am a generous man in that regard.’
‘What was she like, Marcus—your first wife, Elizabeth? I imagine she didn’t enter into marriage as impoverished as I.’
‘No. She came from an impressive, wealthy family. Our families were friends of long standing. It had been in the cards for some time that we would marry. Elizabeth was young—no more than eighteen—simple and good and pretty.’
‘Biddable?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘Unlike me.’
Marcus grinned, capturing her gaze. ‘Exactly. Never were two people less alike.’
‘I see. And did you love her very much?’
Marcus looked at the glass of wine in his hand and swirled the liquid round in the glass, seeming to think how best to answer her question. ‘I don’t think love entered into it. We liked and respected each other—there was affection—indeed we were the best of friends, but love? Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to be my wife. For the short time we were together, she was content. She died giving birth to Adele.’
There was a husky rasp to his voice, an edge of sadness. ‘I’m sorry,’ Juliet said quietly.
‘There’s no need for you to be. It happened. I did love her in a way, but I wasn’t in love with her. It was a long time ago. She is but a memory to me now.’
‘Kept alive by Adele.’
He nodded. ‘I can’t tell you how important it is to me to be here, to take care of her. I returned home for a brief period when she was born, but the war in the Peninsular got in the way, and I was duty-bound to return. Now that I am home and she is with me, I will be able to devote more time to her.’
Their conversation was curtailed when a footman came to tell them dinner was ready to be served.
Chapter Ten
Attired in just her nightdress Juliet moved aimlessly to the open window, nervous but impatient for Marcus to come to her. As she looked into the distance, in the darkness she could imagine Endcliffe House. Part of her wanted to be back there but, she thought wistfully, if she were back there, then Marcus wouldn’t be with her, and suddenly all those girlish dreams of Thomas and the bulwark of her security—Endcliffe House—began to slip into the past and didn’t seem to matter now.
Suddenly, without her noticing, Marcus had become a very important part of her life. He had stood by her, offering her his name, risking his money and his reputation. No man would have done all these things for a woman he did not care about, and she knew she would rather be here with him than without him at Endcliffe House. But what did she feel for him? Did she love him? This she did not know. After Thomas, she would never trust her judgement again, but when she thought of him, of his darkly handsome face and flashing smile, her body trembled with an unaccustomed desire to have him hold her. To feel his strong arms about her and to rest her head on his broad chest—to have him love her. She was more than ready to become his wife in every sense of the word.
Her vigil was rewarded when she heard footsteps on the other side of the door that connected their rooms. With feverish anticipation she turned. Her heart began to beat quickly and her mouth became dry, the palms of her hands clammy, and then suddenly he was there, standing in the open doorway. His flame-coloured robe was partly open at the front to reveal the strong muscles of his chest, with its crisp matting of hair just visible. Broad-shouldered and with his dark hair curling about his face, his jaw lean and firm, with his wicked eyes and lazy smile, he would have made the most handsome pirate, she thought.
They stared at each other, the air crackling with unexpressed emotion. Marcus’s awesome presence seemed to fill the room. She could sense his eyes on her, sense his penetrating gaze stripping her body bare. She watched him close the door and move closer with the same rapt attention a rabbit gives a stalking fox, feeling his presence with every fibre of her being. A growing warmth suffused her, and she was achingly aware of her own newly formed desires.
He cocked a handsome brow as he gave her a lengthy inspection. Her nightdress clung to her slender form and the pins had been removed from her hair, allowing the thick tresses free to tumble about her shoulders. ‘I see you are expecting me,’ he murmured, raising his hand and tracing her bare arm with his finger.
‘Yes. I—I expected you sooner.’
‘I apologise if I have kept you waiting, Juliet, but I want you to be sure you are ready to become my wife in more than name. After your ordeal at Waring’s hands, I would like to make sure I will be welcome in your bed.’
She laughed lightly, touched that he would still be concerned how Thomas’s assault may have affected her. ‘Worry not, Marcus. What happened has not scarred me in any way. I know you would never harm me physically. I have no fear of what you will do to me. Indeed,’ she said, flushing slightly as she anticipated the night to come with a tremor of excitement, ‘it is quite the opposite. In fact, I am as impatient as you are to begin our lives together—already I am anticipating exploring the sensual side to our marriage.’
‘Then I shall do my best not to disappoint you. Be assured, I shall be a proficient and considerate teacher.’
‘Did you say goodnight to Adele?’
‘I went to the nursery only to find she was asleep. She is quite exhausted, poor lamb.’
‘I—I looked in on her earlier,’ Juliet said haltingly, trying to subdue her nervousness. ‘She is thrilled with her new toys, in particular the rocking horse.’
‘I had it brought here from Cranswick,’ he said, his fingers moving upwards to caress her shoulder. ‘I intend buying her a pony of her own when she is settled. She loves horses.’
‘She will like that,’ she said, her heart pounding with a deafening beat as he bent his head and placed his lips where his fingers had gone before. She was tense and still as she allowed him to continue his caress. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, feeling delicious sensations stirring inside her. ‘Marcus, please,’ she gasped. ‘Should we not wait—and—’
‘Juliet,’ he murmured, ‘stop talking.’ Looking into her eyes, he caressed her fingers with his mouth. He could feel her melting, feel it in the way her fingers trembled.
‘But we—’
He stopped her sentence with his thumb gently pressed against her lips. ‘Shh.’
The tone of his voice was so soft and inviting that for one mad moment, Juliet almost surrendered herself there and then. She felt herself tremble with the need that he always invoked in her when he was close.
Taking her shoulders, he drew her lithe form towards him, capturing her in a gentle embrace, his eyes feasting on the delicate creaminess of her face and her shining hair spilling down over her shoulders. The sweet fragrance of her body drifted through his senses, and the throbbing hunger to possess her began anew.
‘You must learn to relax, Juliet,’ he whispered, his mouth against hers. ‘The attraction between us has been denied for too long. It is my hope that come daylight, we will have reached an understanding.’
‘But there is nothing to understand.’
‘There is, my love,’ he said, his voice a ragged whisper as he slid his tongue across her lips. ‘Let me show you.’
His voice had deepened. His strength and the heat of him were palpable. When he lowered his head, she lost sight of his eyes and fixed her own on his lips. They brushed hers, gently testing their resilience, teasing, savouring, then, with the confidence that there would be a welcome, he covered her lips assuredly. That kiss almost sent her to her knees. Sensations she had never imagined overwhelmed her. The feel of him, the smell of him sank into her flesh, into the bones of her. In response, she slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders.
The kiss ended and he drew back slightly, sliding his hands down her bare arms.
Taking her hand, he drew her towards the bed, seizing her lips once more, drawing her senses again into the heated depths of a kiss, devouring her sweetness, languidly coaxing and parting, his tongue probing and plundering the honeyed cavern, as if he had an eternity to explore and savour.
The sweet urgency of it made Juliet lose touch with reality. It filled her soul. The embers that had glowed and heated her rebellion in the early days of their relationship now burned with passion, her protestations having become raw hunger. It was a kiss so exquisite that whatever doubts had plagued her over the days before becoming his wife died as she became imprisoned in a haze of dangerous, terrifying sensuality over which she had no control.
His hand deftly slipped the narrow straps of her nightdress off her shoulders, revealing the cleft between the round fullness of her breasts. Her cheeks flushed scarlet at his boldness. Raising his head, he laughed softly. There was still so much of the girl in her at war with the assertive young woman, and Marcus had the knack of bringing it quickly to the surface. It was clear to Juliet that in this particular arena, he had absolute control.
Bending his head to pay homage to the soft flesh glowing like creamy pearls in the soft light, he placed his lips in the hollow of her throat where a pulse throbbed. The contact was a shock to Juliet, a delicious one. Heat blossomed and spread. But the heat building inside Marcus, fed and steadily stoked, was escalating into urgency. As he awoke from their kiss, his long fingers divested her of what remained of her nightdress. Her glorious body was a lustrous shade of pale gold in the wavering blur of the flickering candles. Juliet’s throat dried. Marcus’s gaze focused upon her figure and the ardour in his dark gaze was like a flame to her senses. She was unable to free her rational mind from the overwhelming tide of desire that claimed her, fuelled by a whirlpool of emotions she didn’t recognise, much less understand.
‘When you’ve finished ogling me, Marcus, kindly remember you’re supposed to be a gentleman and take off your clothes too, unless you intend to make love to me with them on.’
Marcus continued to drink his fill, noting her shallow breathing, sensing anticipation rising like scent around them. Chest tight, eager to seize, to devour, to slake the lust that drove him, every nerve Marcus possessed stilled as slowly his gaze traced up the curves of her long legs, the gentle swell of her thighs, over her taut stomach and minuscule waist to her breasts, full and tipped with rosy peaks. Proceeding to remove his robe, he struggled impatiently with the restricting belt.
Surrendering to the call of her blood, impatient to resume contact between them, with nimble fingers Juliet undid the knot herself. She felt a tremor of alarm and embarrassed admiration pass through her as his body was exposed to her. He had the form of a tall, lithe athlete. His shoulders and thighs were firmly muscled, his belly flat and taut. He was splendid, magnificent, and as she stared at him, her heart gave a tremendous leap, unable to believe how handsome he was. He laughed when she flushed and averted her maidenly eyes away from his manhood, and his teeth gleamed white from between his parted lips as he threw back the bedcovers, and then they were together once more, locked in each other’s arms. Never had Juliet been as aware of another human being as she was of Marcus at that moment. Each of them was aware of a new intensity of feeling between them, a new excitement.
‘You are an inviting, haunting temptress,’ Marcus murmured against her lips. ‘And you are about to experience a night of passion and sensual delights such as you cannot have imagined.’
Juliet saw the deepening light in Marcus’s eyes. She saw the defined brows and wanted to touch his face, to know him. Then slowly, almost haltingly, he captured her mouth once more in a kiss that warmed her to the core of her being. Parted lips, tender and insistent, caressed hers, moulding and shaping them to his own while his hand touched her bare skin, which felt like liquid satin, his lips following where fingers had gone before, wandering at will over the contours of her.
Juliet was on fire. With a low moan, she stretched alongside him and the hard pressure of his loins. So lost was she in the desire he was skilfully building in her that when his hand travelled along more intimate ground, her thighs loosened of their own accord and quivered beneath his questing hands. She almost drowned as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.
Hesitantly she half opened her eyes and met her husband’s intense gaze, hearing the drumming of her heart until her ears were full of the sound. Faintness drifted on the edge of her vision. She wanted him. She ached for him. And she clutched at him with the awkward desperation of inexperience. Anticipating the pain she would feel in the next moment, she stiffened her body, her arms going round him.
Sensing her apprehension, he gentled the moment of entry. The pain was mild, and when it had subsided, in its place was a hungering, throbbing ache. He filled her fully, touching all of her. It was incredible, something new that burst inside her, and as she slowly began to move as he moved and arched to meet him to the full, she was so carried along on a rapturous glow of passion by the driving force of his powerful strokes deep within her that she was almost delirious. When the explosion came, it broke in a wave of ecstasy and she felt her body soar.
When the weight of his strong body lifted off her, sated and happy, Juliet looked up at him, fighting her way back from oblivion. She sighed and closed her eyes. Marcus lowered his head and ran his tongue provocatively over her lower lip.
‘Are you happy, my love?’
‘Mm,’ she breathed without opening her eyes.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked with a tender smile, stroking her satiny skin.
On a sigh, like a kitten she nestled close beneath the sensual onslaught of his caressing hand and mouth. ‘My thoughts are most unladylike, I’m afraid. I will not offend your ear by airing them.’
Opening her eyes, she saw the gleam of an ugly silver scar on his shoulder. She touched it with her finger, tracing its smooth line. Lifting her head, she looked at him, imagining the pain he must have felt on being wounded.
‘How the war in the Peninsular has hurt you,’ she whispered.
‘Nay, Juliet. The scar is one of several. I like to think I gave the Frenchies as much as I received on the battlefield. I’m relieved you are not repulsed by it.’
As if to heal his scar, she kissed it before wrapping her arms around him. ‘Is every night to be like this one?’
‘It is my hope.’
‘Then I shall be well satisfied.’
‘You speak as if this one is already over and done with, sweetheart. If that is what you think, then you are mistaken,’ he said and, as if to prove it, he took her lips in a devouring kiss, renewed desire already pouring through him as he proceeded to kiss and caress her into mindless insensibility.
* * *
Later, as Juliet slept, the silky mass of her hair draped about her, his mind still reeling when he thought of the flagrant sensuality of the creature lying next to him, Marcus lay on his side, resting on his elbow, the fingers of his free hand gently brushing strands of hair from her face. His eyes were drawn compulsively to her, and he looked at her with part reverence, part awe, unable to believe this woman, his wife, had succeeded in sending him to unparalleled heights of satisfaction and desire. A deep contentment engulfed him as he gloried in the sweet, wild essence of her.
Conscious of the languor that weighted his limbs, of the satiation that was bone deep, he realised that this state had been reached not by mere self-gratification, but by a deep contentment more profound than at any other time in his life. Juliet had succeeded in tapping the source of his well-being where every other woman he had known had failed.
He was engulfed in a swirling mass of emotions, emotions that were new to him, emotions he could not recognise and could not put a name to. His every instinct reacted to the fact that he had this woman in thrall, that he’d finally breached the walls and captured the elusive creature at its core. He had always known that when he finally made love to her, they would be a combustible combination, but what he had just experienced had been the most splendidly erotic sexual encounter of his life.
