by Julia Quinn
Robert gasped, and his hand flew to cover hers. “Not yet,” he said hoarsely. “I can't control— Not yet.”
Victoria lifted her hand. “Tell me what to do,” she said. “Whatever you want.”
He stared at her, quite unable to utter a word.
She swayed toward him. “Anything you want,” she whispered. “Anything.”
“I want to feel your hands on me again,” he finally managed to say. “Both of them.”
She reached out, but then stopped when her hand was an inch away from his shoulder. “Here?”
He nodded, sucking in his breath when her hand slid from his shoulder to his upper arm. She wrapped her hand around his biceps. “You're very strong.”
“You make me strong,” he said. “Everything in me that is good—you make me that way. With you, I become more than I am.” He shrugged helplessly. “I'm not making sense. I don't how to explain it. I don't know the words.”
Tears filled Victoria's eyes, and emotions she didn't want to feel pressed against her heart. She moved her hand to the back of his neck. “Kiss me.”
He did. Oh, how he did! He was soft at first, teasing her mercilessly, leaving her body straining for more. And then, just when Victoria was certain she couldn't withstand another second of his sensual torture, his arms snaked around her back and bound her to him in a steely grip.
He grew wild, his movements uncontrolled. He pushed the silk of her gown up until it was bunched around her midriff. He separated her legs with one of his powerful thighs, and Victoria could feel the fabric of his breeches rubbing against her womanhood. It was so overwhelming that she was certain she would have fallen over if he hadn't been holding her so close to his body.
“I want you,” he groaned. “Lord, how I want you.”
“Please,” she begged.
He continued to push the silky gown up until it slid over her head and landed in a forgotten heap on the floor next to the bed. Victoria was struck by a sudden shyness, and she looked away, unable to watch him watching her. She felt his fingers touch her chin, and with gentle pressure he turned her head until she faced him again.
“I love you,” he said, his voice low but fervent.
She didn't say anything.
“You'll tell me soon enough,” he said, drawing her into his arms and lowering her down. “I'm not worried. I can wait. For you I can wait forever.”
Victoria wasn't sure how he did it, but within seconds she no longer felt his breeches between them. It was just skin against skin, and she felt so exquisitely close to him.
“God, you're beautiful,” Robert said, lifting himself up on his arms to gaze down at her.
She touched his cheek. “So are you.”
“Beautiful?” he said, his voice tinged with a smile.
She nodded. “I used to dream about you, you know. All those years.”
“You did?”
Victoria inhaled sharply as his hand closed around her breast and gave it a loving squeeze. “I couldn't stop,” she admitted. “And then I realized I didn't want to stop.”
Robert made a ragged sound in the bottom of his throat. “I dreamed about you, too. But it was never like this, never this good.” He lowered his head until his lips were scant inches from her breast. “I couldn't taste you in my dreams.”
Her hips bucked off the bed as his mouth closed around her nipple, loving her with tantalizing thoroughness. Without realizing what she was about, her fingers sank themselves into his thick hair. “Oh, Robert,” she moaned.
He whispered something against her breast. She couldn't make out the words, then realized it didn't matter. His tongue traced patterns on her skin, his breath devilishly ticklish and seductive. He dragged his mouth along her neck, murmuring, “I want more, Torie. I want it all.”
He nudged her legs apart, and she could feel him settling against her. He was hard and hot, intimidating and oddly comforting at the same time. His hands were underneath her, squeezing her backside, pulling her closer to him.
“I want to go slowly,” he whispered. “I want it to be perfect.”
Victoria heard the ragged emotion in his voice and knew instantly what it had cost him to utter those words. She reached up and smoothed her thumbs along his eyebrows. “It can't help but be perfect,” she whispered. “No matter what you do.”
Robert stared down at her, his body shaking with need and near to bursting with love. He couldn't believe how unreservedly she was accepting him into her embrace. She was honest and open and everything he had ever wanted, not just in a woman but out of life.
Hell, she was his life. And he didn't care who knew it. He felt like shouting it to the rafters, right then, right before he finally made her his own. I love this woman, he wanted to yell. I love her!
He positioned himself at the edge of her womanhood. “This may hurt a little,” he said.
She touched his cheek. “You won't hurt me.”
“I don't want to, but I—” He couldn't finish the sentence. He'd pushed forward into her—just an inch, but it felt so perfect that he lost the power of speech.
“Oh, my,” Victoria breathed.
Robert just grunted. It was all he could manage. Intelligent speech was clearly beyond his capabilities. He forced himself to hold still, waiting to feel her muscles relax around him before sinking himself deeper into her. It was damned near impossible to hold himself back; every nerve in his body was screaming for release. It took clenched teeth, clenched muscles, clenched everything to keep his passion in check, but he did it.
All because he loved her. It was an awesome feeling, that.
Finally he moved that last inch and let out a shudder of complete and total pleasure. It was the sweetest of embraces. He was overcome by the most intense desire in his life, yet at the same time he had never felt more protected and content. “We are one now,” he whispered, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead. “You and I. We are one person.”
Victoria nodded and took a deep breath. She felt very strange. Strange, and somehow complete at the same time. Robert was inside her; she could scarcely fathom that. It was the oddest and yet the most natural feeling she had ever experienced. She felt as if she would surely burst if he moved even a quarter of an inch, and yet she was hungry for something more.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “It's so…odd”
He let out a little laugh. “It will get better. I promise.”
“Oh, it isn't bad,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Please don't think—”
He chuckled again as he pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “Shhh. Just let me show you.” He replaced his fingers with his mouth, distracting her so she wouldn't notice when he started to move within her.
She noticed. The first brush of exquisite friction made her cry out, and before she knew it she had wrapped her legs around his.
“Oh, Victoria,” he moaned. But it was a very happy moan. He moved forward again, then pulled back, slowly creating a rhythm as beautiful as it was primitive.
Victoria moved with him, instinct carrying her along where experience could not. Something began to build within her—a mounting pressure. She didn't know if it was pain or if it was pleasure, and at that moment she didn't particularly care which. All she knew was that she was on a road to somewhere, and if she didn't get there soon, she would surely explode.
And then she reached her destination and she exploded anyway, and then, for the first time in her life, she knew what it meant to be totally at peace with the world.
Robert's movements grew frenzied and then he, too, shouted his release and collapsed on top of her. Several minutes passed before either was able to speak.
Robert rolled to his side, pulling Victoria along with him. He kissed her gently on the lips. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“Was I too heavy?”
“No. I liked feeling your weight.” She blushed, feeling very risqué. “Why did y
ou lock the door?”
“Hmm?”
“The door. It was locked.”
He turned and looked at her, his blue eyes warm and thoughtful. “Habit, I suppose. I've always locked my door. I certainly didn't intend to keep you out.” His lips spread into a lazy, contented smile. “I rather enjoy your company.”
She giggled. “Yes, I believe you've demonstrated that.”
His face grew serious. “There won't be any more locked doors between us. Barriers have no place in our relationship, be they doors or lies or misunderstandings.”
Victoria swallowed, feeling too emotional to speak. All she did was nod.
Robert slid a leg over her, drawing her close.
“You won't leave, will you? I know it's the middle of the day, but we can take a nap.”
“Yes,” she said softly. Then she curled up in his arms, closed her eyes, and drifted off into peaceful sleep.
Chapter 20
When Victoria woke from her nap an hour later, Robert's beaming face was only a few inches from her own. He was propped up on his elbow, and she suspected that he'd spent the entire nap time watching her.
“Today,” he announced with great cheer, “is a superb day to be married.”
Victoria was certain she'd misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Married. Man and wife.”
“You and me?”
“No, actually I think that the hedgehogs out in the garden need to be joined in holy matrimony. They have been living in sin for years. I can no longer stand for it.”
“Robert,” Victoria said, giggling despite herself.
“And all those little illegitimate hedgehogs. Think of the stigma. Their parents have been breeding like rabbits. Or like hedgehogs, as the case may be.”
“Robert, this is a serious matter.”
The levity left his eyes, and they burned hot and intense into hers. “I have never been more serious.”
Victoria was silent for a moment while she chose her words. “Don't you think today is a bit sudden? Marriage is a very serious matter. We must give it sufficient thought.”
“I have been thinking of little else for the better part of a month.”
Victoria sat up, pulling the sheet along with her to cover her nakedness. “But I have not. I'm not ready to make this kind of decision just yet.”
His face hardened. “You might have thought of that before you knocked on my door this afternoon.”
“I wasn't thinking beyond—”
“Beyond what?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“I'd hurt your feelings,” she whispered. “And I wanted to—”
He was out of the bed and on his feet in under a second. He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at her furiously, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. “You made love to me out of pity?” he spat.
“No!” She, however, was not oblivious to the fact that he was naked, and so her denial was directed to his knees.
“Look at me!” he ordered, his anger making his voice terribly harsh.
She raised her eyes a few inches, then lowered them again. “Would you please put on some clothing?”
“It's a little for modesty,” he bit out, but he pulled his breeches off the floor and put them on.
“I didn't do this out of pity,” she said, finally raising her eyes to his face, even though she'd much rather look at the ceiling or the walls or even at the chamber pot in the corner. “I did it simply because I wanted to do it, and I wasn't thinking much beyond today.”
“I find it difficult to believe that you, a person who craves stability and permanence, would embark on a short-term affair.”
“I wasn't thinking of it as such.”
“Then how were you thinking of it?”
Victoria looked into his eyes, saw the vulnerability he was trying to hide beneath his anger, and realized just how important her answer was to him. “I wasn't thinking with my head,” she said softly. “I was thinking with my heart. I looked up at your window, and you looked so sad—”
“As you have so kindly pointed out,” he said bitterly.
Victoria fell silent for a moment to let him speak. Then she continued with, “It wasn't just for you. It was for myself as well. I suppose I just wanted to feel loved.”
Hope flared in his eyes. “You are loved,” he said fervently, reaching forward to take her hands in his. “And you can feel that way every day of the rest of your life if you'd only let yourself. Marry me, Victoria. Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world. Marry me and give yourself peace and contentment. And,” he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “love. For surely there has never been a woman loved more deeply and truly than I do you.”
Victoria fought against the tears that were pricking her eyes, but his words were too powerful, and she felt her cheeks grow salty and wet. “Robert,” she began, not at all certain what she was trying to say, “for so very long I have—”
“You might be with child,” he cut in. “Have you considered that?”
“I had not,” she admitted with a convulsive swallow. “But I—”
“Marry me,” he repeated, tightening his grip on her hands. “You know it is the right thing to do.”
“Why did you have to say that?” she said. “You know I hate it when you try to tell me what I want.”
Robert let out an exasperated breath. “That wasn't what I meant, and you know it.”
“I know, it's only that…”
“It's only what?” he said softly. “What is holding you back, Torie?”
She looked away, feeling rather stupid. “I don't know. Marriage is so permanent. What if I make a mistake?”
“If it's a mistake then you've already made it,” he said with a glance toward the bed. “But it isn't a mistake. Marriage won't always be easy, but life without you—” He ran his hand through his hair, his face showing his inability to put his thoughts into words. “Life without you would be impossible. I don't know how else to say it.”
Victoria chewed on her lower lip, aware that she was coming to feel the same way. For all that he'd put her through during this past month, she couldn't quite imagine life without his lopsided smiles, the twinkle in his eyes, or the way his hair never quite looked as if he'd brushed it properly. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. “I have a few reservations,” she began.
“You wouldn't be human if you didn't,” he said reassuringly.
“But I can see that there are several reasons why marriage might be a good idea.” She spoke slowly, working her words out in her head as she spoke. She shot a quick glance at Robert, half expecting him to yank her into another crushing embrace. But he remained still, clearly understanding that she needed to speak her mind.
“First of all,” Victoria said, “as you pointed out, there is the matter of a child. It was very irresponsible of me not to consider it, but I didn't and there is nothing for it now. I suppose I could simply wait a few weeks and see—”
“I wouldn't recommend that particular course of action,” Robert said quickly.
She bit back a smile. “No, I don't imagine you're going to let me go back to London, and I don't imagine that if I stay here—”
“I can't keep my hands off you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “I freely admit it.”
“And I won't try to lie and say that I do not”—she blushed—” enjoy your attentions. You know that I always have, even seven years ago.”
He smiled knowingly.
“But there are other reasons why we should or should not marry.”
“Should.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“We should marry. Not should not.”
Victoria was finding it hard not to laugh. When he was eager for something, Robert was more adorable than a puppy. “I do worry that you will not let me make my own decisions,” she warned.
“I shall try to abide by your wishes,” he said, his expression s
olemn. “If I become an overbearing ass, I give you leave to whack me over the head with your reticule.”
Her eyes narrowed. “May I have that in writing?”
“Certainly.” He crossed the room to his writing table, opened a drawer, and whipped out a quill, a piece of paper, and a bottle of ink. Victoria stared at him openmouthed as he scribbled a sentence, then signed the bottom with a flourish. He walked back to her, handed her the paper, and said, “There you are.”
Victoria looked down and read, “If I become an overbearing ass, I give my beloved wife, Victoria Mary Lyndon Kemble—” She looked up. “Kemble?”
“It will be Kemble. Today, if I have any say.” He pointed to a scrawl at the top of the note. “I postdated the note, however, for next week. You'll be a Kemble by then.”
Victoria forebore to comment on his amazing confidence and continued reading. “Let's see…Victoria Mary Lyndon, ahem, Kemble…leave to whack me over the head with whatever object she chooses.” She glanced up questioningly. “Any object?”
Robert shrugged. “If I become a really overbearing ass, you might want to hit me with something sturdier than your reticule.”
Her shoulders shook as she turned back to the note. “Signed, Robert Phillip Arthur Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield.”
“I'm not a scholar of the law, but I think it is legal.”
Victoria's face broke into a watery smile. With an impatient hand she brushed her tears away. “This is why I'm going to marry you,” she said, holding the slip of paper in the air.
“Because I have told you that you may hit me at your discretion?”
“No,” she said, sniffling loudly, “because I don't know what will happen to me if I don't have you to tease me. I've grown too serious, Robert. I wasn't always this way.”
“I know,” he said gently.
“For seven years I wasn't allowed to laugh. I forgot how.”
“I'll remind you.”
She nodded. “I think I need you, Robert. I think I do.”
He sat on the end of the bed and gathered her into a tender embrace. “I know I need you, darling Torie. I know I do.”
