The answer had been there all along, but she had been too stubborn to admit it.
“I would love to join you for dinner,” she decided. “It shall have to wait until another time, however. I have a husband to win back.”
Returning to his townhouse after such a lengthy absence felt strange.
Stranger still to find it empty.
Nell was not here. She had gone directly to Sidmouth upon her return to London, and she had yet to come home. The discovery had been a weighty blow. Jack sat in the chamber that had once served as his study. The walls were cluttered with paintings she had procured. The damask wall coverings had been replaced with stripes and roses. The Axminster was equally floral, and even the divans were covered with flowery upholstery. His desk had been replaced by a rosewood escritoire, and there was a piano in the middle of the room.
He sat at the piano now, fingers resting idly on the keys.
She was with Sidmouth right now.
He had lost her.
There was a sideboard filled with spirits calling to him across the chamber. He could drown his sorrows in true fashion. Drink himself to oblivion. Numb the grief eating him alive.
The old Jack would have done so. But the old Jack had been reckless and foolish and impulsive. The old Jack should have stayed and fought for the woman he loved. He should have swallowed down his hurt and his pride. He never should have gone.
He had, however.
The past could not be undone.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head. His fingers moved over the ivory, beginning a dirge appropriate for the moment. For the agonizing loss. He would have to let her go now, grant her the divorce. He would not force her to remain his wife.
She had made her decision, and it had not been him.
He played and played. Tears were hot in his eyes, on his cheeks. And still, he played on, unleashing the torment within through the musical instrument. Until he became aware of another presence in the room. He felt suddenly as if he were being watched. His fingers stilled over the keys, the music dying.
“Jack.”
He opened his eyes at her soft voice to find her standing on the threshold of the room, watching him.
Bloody hell, he was a sniveling mess. He stood, hastily reaching for a handkerchief to dash away his maudlin tears.
Jack cleared his throat. “Nell. You have returned from paying your call to Sidmouth, I see.”
“Yes,” she agreed, moving toward him in a silken swish of skirts. “I called upon him as soon as I returned to London.”
Although he had already known, her admission still stung. His handkerchief was damp now, but he stuffed it back into his waistcoat all the same. “I am sure Sidmouth appreciated his victory. You need not fear I shall stand in your way any longer. I will agree to the divorce. It was never my intention to force you to remain my wife. I had merely hoped you might change your mind.”
She stopped before him, her blue stare unrelenting. “I told him I cannot marry him, Jack.”
He froze. “You did?”
“I did,” she agreed, solemn.
That stupid, old, futile hope returned, sparking back into a flame.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely.
“Because I am already married to the man I love.” She took another step forward, cupping his face in her soft hands. “I do not want a divorce. I want to be your wife. I want to bear your children. I want to spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost.”
“You love me,” he repeated stupidly.
“I love you, Jack.” She smiled then, but there were tears glittering in the brilliant depths of her eyes. “I loved you from the moment I first met you, in Cowes. And I have loved you every day after. I never stopped. I will never, ever stop loving you.”
He settled his hands on her waist, needing to touch her, to prove she was real. That this moment was real. That Nellie, his Nellie, loved him.
“Do you mean it?” he demanded, afraid to believe.
She nodded, and for once, her expression was unguarded and filled with tenderness. So much unabated tenderness. All for him. Only for him.
“I should have believed you that night,” she said. “I never should have asked you to leave. I am sorry for doubting you. After I visited Tom, I paid a call to Lord and Lady Sandhurst, and I learned that Lady Billingsley left behind a letter for Lord Sandhurst. In it, she told her side of the story of that night, and it was just as you have said. A drunken mistake. Can you forgive me for not believing you, and for tearing us further apart when I should have fought to keep us together?”
“There is nothing to forgive, my love. Had I not been such a drunken fool that night, it never would have happened. And had I remained instead of arguing with you and then leaving, and had I not allowed my wounded pride to keep me from you for so bloody long, everything would have been different.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I love you, Nellie. I loved you since I first saw you in that pink gown at Cowes, and I have never stopped. Nothing will make me stop. Not time, not distance. Not anyone or anything.”
“Oh, my love.” Tears clung to her long lashes. “Promise me you will never leave again.”
He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I promise. Wherever we go from this moment forward, we will go together.”
“I will hold you to that vow,” she told him, before sealing their lips together in a lingering kiss. “For now, the only place I want to go with you is to the bedchamber.”
He grinned. God, how he loved this woman. “That can be arranged, my darling.”
If the servants had been shocked by the sight of the Marquess of Needham carrying his marchioness through the halls and up the stairs, they were wise enough not to say a thing and to feign intense interest in whatever household work they were performing.
Nell swore one of the footmen winked at her as Jack hauled her triumphantly past.
She had protested that she could walk perfectly well on her own, but her assertion had been promptly ignored. They made it all the way to the marquess’s apartments, and over the threshold, before she realized she should have directed him to her chamber instead.
He stopped on the threshold. “There is not a stick of bloody furniture in here.”
His voice echoed in the empty, cavernous room.
“I had it all removed,” she admitted. “I spent most of my time in London, and I could not bear to look at your things.”
“I trust there is a bed in the marchioness’s chamber?” he asked wryly.
She winced. “Yes, of course. You may put me down now, Jack. I am fully capable of walking.”
“I am never letting you go again, woman,” he growled. “It is a damned good thing you have come to your senses, because I was not going to sleep on the floor.”
She giggled as he carried her to her chamber, which was fully furnished and prepared. “I am not planning on sleeping at all tonight,” she announced.
He made a low sound and kicked the door closed behind them. “Wicked woman.”
“Very wicked,” she assured him, grinning. “I trust you do not mind.”
“I would not have it any other way.” He lowered her to her feet at last.
For a moment, they stared at each other.
Then, they were in each other’s arms. Their lips were fused. His tongue was in her mouth. She sucked on it greedily, starved for him, desperate for him to be inside her. Clothing began to fall away. Her gown went first, then his coat and waistcoat. Shoes and boots were discarded in feverish haste. Stockings disappeared. Corset, petticoat, trousers, shirt, smalls and drawers went next.
Nell found herself on her back in the middle of her bed, Jack’s powerful body a delicious weight atop her. He kissed her deeply, sweetly, tenderly. His lips angled over hers, giving rather than taking, telling her without words how much he worshiped her. And she kissed him back, freely, with all the unfettered love in her heart. She kissed him back with gratitude and desire and so much awe.
He broke t
he kiss and buried his face in her throat. Between them, his cock was thick and stiff. Her cunny was achy and wet. She wanted him inside her. But Jack was in no rush.
He bit her earlobe, then licked the hollow beneath it, sending a pulse of heat to her core. “I love you, Nellie.” He dragged his lips down her throat, then sank his teeth into a particularly sensitive cord on her neck. “I love you everywhere, in every way. I love your skin, your beautiful breasts, your luscious mouth.” He kissed a path along her shoulder, before giving her another playful nip. “I love the way you smell and the sounds you make when you spend. I love the way you taste, and I love the way you feel wrapped around me when I am deep inside you.”
She undulated against him, his words heightening her need. “I want you inside me now, Jack. Please.”
“I like the way you beg, too.” He kissed down her breasts. “I like your pink, pebbled nipples.” He sucked on first one peak and then the other, wringing a moan from her. “I like the way you moan, too. I am going to make you moan a whole lot more before the night is over, Nellie darling.”
Her pearl was pulsing.
His sensual torture was exquisite.
He was exquisite. And hers. All hers.
“Tell me what else you like,” she urged him, her voice throaty.
He smiled against the curve of her breast. “I like biting your nipples until you make that sweet little mewl and then licking away the sting. You do not want that now, do you, my love?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “I do.”
He caught a nipple in his teeth and tugged. Sensation ricocheted through her, pooling between her legs. She grew even wetter. His tongue flicked over her, blunting the painful pleasure as he had promised.
He hummed his approval and moved lower. Kisses trailed down her belly. He licked into her navel, his hands caressing her hips. “I like the smoothness of your skin here, all your womanly curves.” Jack’s hands slid to her inner thighs, spreading her wider. Opening her. “And I fucking love your cunny and how drenched it gets for me.”
She moaned again, wanting his mouth on her. It was so close, his beautiful lips a scant inch away. “It is your cunny,” she told him, writhing beneath the onslaught of that emerald gaze. “All yours. I am all yours, heart, body, soul. Forever.”
“You are mine, aren’t you?” He licked up her slit. “You taste like mine.”
Dear heavens, the hot, wet slide of his tongue upon her was incendiary. If she had burst into flames then and there, she would not have been a bit surprised. Her hips jerked into his mouth, seeking more.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “Yours. Every part of me.”
He licked over her pearl with fast, delicious strokes. Just when she was convinced she could bear no more, he sucked. The wet sounds of him pleasuring her increased her ardor. She was wild for him. He took her between his teeth.
She came on a low, keening cry, spending so hard she felt a rush of wetness flooding her passage. He growled and then his tongue was inside her, so deep, licking into her again and again.
“I love you,” she said, breathless and mindless. “I love you, I love you.”
It was an endless litany, in her heart, on her lips.
She had never been happier.
Jack’s tongue was deep in his wife’s cunny.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she chanted as he licked up all her cream.
He loved her, too.
Dear, sweet God, how he loved her.
He loved that she was his, forever. He loved that she had chosen him. He loved that she wanted to preserve their marriage and bear his children and spend the rest of their lives together. He loved the way she tasted, the way she writhed on his tongue. If only this night could last forever. But he knew it could not. Nor could he.
Already, his ballocks ached. His cock was painfully erect against his stomach as he fucked his wife with his mouth. She was so perfect, so wet, so hot. And he was going to sink his cock inside her next. With one last plunge of his tongue and then a savoring lick, he rose, his tongue stealing the traces of her from his lips.
He grasped his shaft and dragged it over her folds. His cockhead brushed against her swollen pearl, making her hips buck. He liked the way it felt, her slick hungry flesh bathing him in her dew, so he did it some more.
She moaned again.
He took a moment to devour the sight of her spread out beneath him, all pale curves and sweet pink. Her hair was still half-bound because they had been in too much of a fever to remove all the hair pins. How beautiful she was. How glorious. How perfect.
“Tell me what you want, Nellie,” he urged, sliding his cock through her folds.
Fucking hell, she was wet. Wetter than she had ever been.
“I want your cock inside me,” she said without hesitation. “Fill me with it. Stretch me. Claim me. Spill your seed within me.”
Damnation. A raw frisson of desire rolled down his spine, and he had to clench his teeth against the need to come now, all over her pretty, glistening folds as he had before.
He wanted to take his time, however. He wanted to savor this. To savor her.
He bowed his head and sucked her nipple, still playing with her cunny with his cock. But she was restless, his Nellie. She was making mewling noises and thrusting against him. Her nails raked down his back, spurring him on.
“Now,” she ordered him.
He released her nipple with a pop. “Manners, my Lady Needham.”
“Please,” she gritted.
He settled the tip of his cock inside her channel and bit her other nipple, then gently nipped the swell of her breast. “Please what, Nellie love?”
He adored making her say wicked things. Vulgar talk made her wild, and he bloody well loved that too.
“Please fuck me,” she said. “Feed me your cock.”
When she phrased it thus, who the hell was he to deny her?
He thrust forward and was instantly engulfed in her wet heat. She felt so good. Better than she ever had. For a moment, he held still, deep within her. And then he began to move.
She was silken seduction. Bliss. Pure bliss.
Everything he had ever wanted.
This time, he would not have to hold back. This time, he would flood her with his seed.
“Yes,” she cried out as he drove inside her again and again. “Yes, my love.”
In and out, he plunged, angling himself so he could watch what he was doing to her. So he could see his cock going inside her. He bit his lip to keep his focus and continued pounding into her. Harder. Deeper. Faster.
She was getting closer to losing herself. He could tell by her choppy breaths and the way she moved beneath him. He reached between their connected bodies, finding the nub of her sex and circling it. He applied slow, steady pressure as he fucked her.
Nell came on a scream, her body bowing from the bed as her eyes fluttered closed. She sucked him deep, clenching on his cock. He could not hold back any longer. Two more thrusts, and his ballocks tightened. The rush of his release was as sudden as it was powerful. He spilled deep inside his wife as she milked every last drop from his cock.
He collapsed atop her, heart pounding, intending to move but hating to withdraw from her just yet. Hating to sever their joining.
Jack lowered his head to hers and kissed her slowly, softly.
“I love you,” he managed to say through his ragged breaths.
She was panting too, every bit as spent as he was.
Her body felt so good against his, around him.
Like heaven.
“I love you too, Jack.” She cupped his cheek, gazing into his eyes. “Thank you for coming back for me, for fighting for us. Thank you for always believing in our love.”
“Always,” he vowed, kissing her again. “Time and distance can tear us apart, but we belong together. I am yours, Nellie. My heart, my body, my soul. All of me is yours, now and forever.”
“Now and always,” she agreed, caressing his cheek.
At last.
Epilogue
Nell was in a celebratory mood.
Which was why she held her daughter Emma in her arms whilst singing the Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin, twirling about the reappointed nursery at Needham Hall. The song was a favorite of hers, after all. She adored opera, even if she was abysmal at singing it herself.
But this was not any ordinary evening, and nor was it an ordinary emotion pulsing within her: this brilliant, wondrous sense of hope and peace and rightness. This was an occasion of celebration. She had endured three years of waiting. Three years of misery, heartsickness, loneliness, agony without Jack…
Until he had returned. Until their love had prevailed in spite of both their imperfections, flaws, and foolishness. In the end, love had won, just as it always should, and she felt fortunate. So blessed. So happy. Happier than she had ever imagined she could be.
At long last, she had what she had always wanted.
A family.
Specifically: her family with Jack. And their family was about to grow in number. No one knew that yet. She had only suspected it for several weeks, but she had not dared suggest it to him, biding her time until she could be sure. The absence of her monthly courses, the swelling in her belly, and the morning biliousness which had begun visiting her were too strong to ignore.
She screwed her face into a series of silly expressions for Emma’s benefit, twirled them about again, warbled a bit more. Jack would be here soon. He was finishing up the chapter in his latest travel memoir. They had recently returned from taking little Emma on a month-long trip to America, and Jack was busy penning his reminiscences of New York City and Philadelphia.
Emma beamed at her, two tiny teeth protruding from her upper gums. Emma would turn one year old tomorrow. Her pudgy little fist was closed round Nell’s thumb.
Her Missing Marquess Page 24
