“Why did you put a man there?”
“Because I don’t want you disturbed.”
“Who will disturb me?”
He watched her, his expression grave. “I don’t know, and that’s what worries me. You could have been the target, and Louis has plenty of people willing to do his bidding.”
She shook her head, her remaining braid hitting her cheek. “Who would want to attack me?”
“Anyone not desirous of our marriage. Anyone who found out you are acting as Angela Childers’s agent.”
“Nobody here can know that.” And she hadn’t said yes until after the cupid’s fall. But everybody knew now.
“You wrote to her, did you not?”
The words fell between them like small bombs, sputtering in her mind. Yes, somebody could have seen the address and come to certain conclusions. Word about the SSL was slowly spreading. They were certainly making no secret of it. “So you think I’m in danger, too?”
“You were the one who established that it was not an accident. So yes. I want you safe, but I don’t want you to retreat. Your work makes you happy, and I love watching you blossom.” He released her hand and caught her braid, deftly unwinding it from the neat plait.
So he was protecting her, so she could continue with her work for Angela. He didn’t want her in danger. The words felt like balm to her soul. Nobody had thought that much about her before, not even her brother. He’d have told her to withdraw from the SSL.
He released her hair and folded his hand over hers again, drawing her close enough to loop his arm around her waist. “Someone put you in danger. I will not allow it.”
“Goodness!” She widened her eyes, gazing up at him in surprise. “You should reject me, then, tell everyone that we are not marrying after all.”
He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them, one by one. “I thought of asking you to keep our agreement secret, but I didn’t want to. You are mine, Dorothea.” Without raising his voice, he forced understanding into her.
“I’m hardly likely to fall out of your arms into anyone else’s,” she said tartly.
“I won’t risk it. You are perfect for me, and once I’ve uncovered a treasure, I don’t let go of it.”
No one had called her a treasure before. She rather liked it. His proximity was making her dizzy, or perhaps that was his evident desire for her.
When he nudged up her chin and fastened his mouth to hers, Dorothea stopped thinking at all.
Instead, she curled her arm around his neck, as if afraid he would pull away, and held on. Their previous encounter had only made her eager for more. When he licked into her mouth, she met his tongue, flirted with it, sucked it and moaned, although she wasn’t aware of the last part until she’d done it. He groaned back.
The vibrations traveled down her throat into the deepest part of her. That place between her legs tingled and seemed to swell, making her want to rub her thighs together to bring herself easement.
She wanted him. If he stopped now, she might just die.
He held her steady, drew her closer so she could lean her head on his shoulder, and gave her a series of kisses. Each one was deeper and more lascivious, until she was clutching his robe with her free hand, afraid she’d fall to the floor if he released her.
He caressed her waist, then up, shaping her body, until he cupped her breast and stroked his thumb over her nipple. Even through the layers of robe and night rail, he sent shivers through her.
Drawing his mouth away from hers, he gazed down at her, his eyes slumberous and heated, the silver darkened to the color of the sky in a storm. He layered tiny kisses on her face, slowly moving from her lips to her ear, pausing to play with her earlobe, giving it a playful tug with his teeth. Down her throat he went, carelessly nudging her robe aside to reach the base of her neck and the little hollow there, which proved extraordinarily sensitive. Her body rose to him, every part of her yearning for his touch.
If they never married—and after today she understood that was a remote possibility—she would have this. And she would die if she didn’t know what a man and woman could do together. She murmured his name, the long version and the familiar. “Benedict. Ben...”
“Dorothea, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, then straightened.
Deftly he unfastened the clasps of her robe, untied the sash around her waist that held it together. It gaped free, but she didn’t attempt to grab it. She did the opposite, shrugging the silk off her shoulders so it slid down her body. She dropped her arms to let it fall the rest of the way, into a pool of green.
And stood there, in a night rail thin enough for him to see the shape of her body through it. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Irresistible.
Ben picked up a strand and wound it around his finger. “Heavenly. It’s spun moonlight.” He glanced up at her face, his expression warm. “Do you trust me?”
She didn’t have to think about that. “Yes.”
He nodded and reached for the remaining buttons on her last garment, unfastening the buttons at the cuffs and the single one left of the three at her neck. He’d already undone the other two. Once more he slid his hands down her body, but this time he gathered the fabric, and lifted it.
Obligingly, Dorothea raised her arms and let him whisk off her night rail. When she’d shaken the hair out of her eyes, what she saw rocked her. His expression was almost worshipful. For her?
Yes, for her. While she had always considered herself clumsy, a giantess among the ethereal loveliness of the society ladies, Ben made her feel beautiful. She would stand here all night, as long as he kept looking at her like that.
“You’re so lovely, Dorothea. Either men were blind, or you strove to hide your beauty.” A smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “No more, I promise you. I want everyone to see what a treasure they missed, the one they can’t have. Because you’re mine.”
Slowly, he undid the frogged toggles at the top of his elaborate banyan, dragging the robe off carelessly.
He wore nothing underneath.
Broad shoulders gave way to a strong chest framed by a pair of arms that looked as if they lifted tree trunks on a regular basis. Dark hair, darker than on his head, was sprinkled by a generous hand around his nipples, curving down to a thicker line that led down and down.
Dorothea did not avoid the rest of his body. She let her gaze follow the line of hair, punctuated by the indent of his navel and farther down, to the impressive erection rearing from the nest of hair at his groin. The thick stalk of muscle reared above, crowned by a plump head, the purplish head shiny and straining.
As she watched, a bead of moisture leaked from the tip in a crystalline promise.
With a gasp, she jerked up her chin and met his gaze. “You had better like what you see,” he rumbled, his voice even deeper than usual, “because you will be seeing that for a long time to come.”
He encircled her waist, his fingers hot on her skin, and lifted her. He planted her firmly on her back on the crisp white sheets that a maid had exposed before Dorothea returned from the tedious sojourn in the drawing room after dinner.
This was anything but dull, and the way he was looking at her as he came down to join her thrilled every inch of her body. He lay by her side, propped up on one elbow, unashamedly studying her. And God help her, she loved it.
Tentatively at first, she spread her palm over his chest, the hair tickling her in a new stimulation. “This is...” She faltered, trying to find the right word. Everything she thought of was inadequate.
“Different? Delightful? Thrilling?” he suggested. “Or terrifying, unpleasant, and distasteful?”
“Oh, definitely the first set.” New textures caressed her palm as she moved it over his muscled chest. “Who in their right mind would use the second set?”
“Many people do. Some m
en, when they’re discussing the necessity of making an heir, and I’ve heard some women feel that way.”
“Nobody ever said it to you?”
He shook his head, his chestnut hair glinting red when it caught the candlelight. The branch of candles on the dressing table, two pairs in the sconces either side of the bed and set in holders on the headboard revealed every muscle, each delicious dip and swell of his body. “Ladies don’t talk about such things in front of men. At least not in front of me.”
Why did that not surprise her? Ben was nothing short of magnificent. She stroked over his nipples, the flat muscles beneath twitching at her touch. “Were you like this when you left England?”
“No.” He took her nipple between his fingers, gently tweaking until she shivered. This restraint was another kind of excitement, but the anticipation was almost too much. “Honest toil gave me the body of a working man.”
She burst into shocked laughter. “Who on earth said that? You’re splendid.”
His eyes darkened. “Thank you. I’ve heard it a few times, especially from our departed guests. They meant it as an insult, but I took it as a compliment. Honest toil beats sleek muscles honed in the fencing salon.”
As she slid her hand up to test the breadth of his shoulders, she purred in pleasure.
He traced a line down her body with one finger, lingering at her navel, then leaned over her. “Better now?”
He’d given her time to accustom herself to this blatant nakedness, displaying her body in this way. She wished she could be bolder, but she had never considered herself anything but too big to be admired. But he was admiring her now, openly doing so.
When he kissed her, he brought her nipples in proximity to his chest, but delicately, so they brushed the furred surface. Until she tilted her head and opened her lips to him.
They flung themselves back into the storm, their mouths melding, exploring, as he levered himself over her. Dorothea opened her legs to accommodate him, as if her body was merely relearning a forgotten skill. His member, hard and insistent, pressed against her belly, the damp kiss of the tip anointing her skin.
“I want you so much,” he said after he’d barely separated their lips. “But I’ll keep you safe.”
His protection made her feel safer, but more than that, knowing she was wanted gave her strength. He did not seek to shield her from every feather in the wind but gave her the freedom she yearned for.
So they were to wait for the ultimate act until their wedding night? Not if she could help it. Last time they were together he’d drawn back from completing the act. This time he would not.
Lifting her legs, she clamped her thighs around his hips, blatantly opening herself and holding him in place. “I want you too. Please, Ben. Give me everything.”
A pause until he raised his head and met her anxious gaze. She nodded, once. He smiled, and the taut lines at the corners of his mouth eased.
After a swift, teasing kiss on her lips, he moved down, cupping her breast and bending to lick first one nipple, then the other, where he lingered to nip and tease. She caressed his shoulders, letting the muscles shape under her hands, relishing so much man. But when she pushed, he resisted. Glancing up at her, he gave her a wicked smile. “You’ll get your turn. But I want to do what I’ve been longing to do since the dinner on your first night here.”
“What’s that?”
“Wait and see.”
His caresses were driving her to madness, and when he slipped his fingers between her legs, urging them apart, she opened them even farther. He took possession with one long lick, tasting her from opening to the little bud she occasionally teased when she was alone and needy.
People thought spinsters had no urges, because nobody had woken them to the possibilities of sharing their bodies. People were wrong.
Shivers passed through her. If she was standing, she might be shuddering, but her fever was of the best kind, arousing and urging her to do what she wanted. She’d thrown propriety and commonsense to the winds the minute he’d lifted the latch and come in—no, before that, when she hadn’t locked her door. And she’d never been so glad of disregarding the conventions.
Ben lavished her with licks and strokes. He slid his hands from her knees to her hips and up, grazing her breasts before gliding back down, heating every inch of her with his touch. The harder skin delivered a gentle abrasion that only served to drive her further up toward the peak she’d only ever known with him.
The sounds he was making, the soft slurping, should embarrass her, but they didn’t. She adored every single one, and the way he gripped her hips, surely he’d leave bruises. But she’d love them too, visible signs of his arousal that she could enjoy for days to come. Even that thought didn’t strike her as perverse. Ben was blowing every idea she’d gleaned completely out of the water.
He brought his fingers into play, releasing her hip to slide them under her, tracing her entrance, circling around and around before slipping the tip of one inside her. Gently he pushed, easing her wider. Nobody had ever done that, not even herself. When she’d tried while experimenting with her body, wanting to know it better than anyone, pressing had hurt, so she’d stopped, fearing she was doing something wrong. But she trusted Ben. He would take her where she needed to go, and every minute, every second, her arousal grew.
She wasn’t aware of shifting until he firmed his hold, but she was close, her body rising to a peak.
Then he stopped.
Dorothea wailed in protest, but he released her hips and pushed on the mattress, bringing himself up to her. His eyes were bright, his lips wet. Wet with her.
“Ready?”
Ready? She’d show him ready. “Why did you stop!”
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he reached down and guided his erection to where she needed him most. When he grazed the place he’d been sucking just a moment ago, she whimpered, so sensitive now, but he didn’t stop there. He gave one long sigh as he notched the fat head against her body. It felt much larger now. The soft skin with that hard core fascinated her.
He was gazing at her, his eyes silver steel. “I stopped because I want to feel you come apart when I’m inside you.”
Nobody had ever said anything like that to her before. The breath caught in her throat, and she reached for him. She grasped his shoulders, cupping them. “Do it.”
He took her in a series of shallow thrusts, each one lodging him more securely inside her. The sense of tension, of something about to break, made her tighten her muscles.
“Lift your legs high. Open yourself up.” He touched his lips to hers.
She clamped her thighs to his sides and rested her heels on his backside. The muscles there tightened when he pushed. Then, without warning, he pulled almost out and plunged, driving in deep.
If he hadn’t kissed her, her yell would have been heard on the other side of the building, but he swallowed her cry of shock. She clung to him, riding the waves of pain. Why did it hurt so much? Would it be like this every time?
He lifted away, catching her gaze once more. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me!”
She did as he bade her without thinking. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until he ordered her to open them. The pain was already receding, ebbing away as she watched him. “Is it always like this?”
“Hell, no!” He sent a rough laugh around the room. “You feel so good, sweetheart. I’ve broken through. That’s the only time you will feel pain with me.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, where it had stuck to her sweat. “How is it now?”
He kept completely still inside her. She felt stuffed, full to bursting, but when he moved a tiny bit, he slid quite easily. That surprised her. “Better. It doesn’t hurt when you—do that.”
She received another kiss. “Good. It will feel better, I promise.”
He pulle
d out further, and drove back in, touching a spot inside that sent delightful shudders up her spine to the top of her head. “Oh!”
A low growl told her he liked her response, but that wasn’t why she’d done it.
Dorothea stopped thinking when he repeated his action, and then again and again. She found if she pressed her shoulders against the mattress, enabling her to move her hips to meet him, the sensation returned, stronger this time. “More!”
When he did as she bade him, she sucked in a deep breath of cool air, and then they were in the dance, working together. He came down, she pushed up, and the sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, the heady scents winding around them, like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Thick musk with an edge of tartness, sour apples and caramel.
Their bodies connected harder, with a slap of flesh every time he came down to her, or she ground up to him. They fit together so well they could have been one person. That spot inside her was going insane, apparently spreading until it encompassed every part of her, until nothing mattered except this room, this bed, this act.
Heat and sensation spiraled up until she froze, her back arched, and choked out his name. Her body tightened around him, clenching in rhythmic waves, drowning her in pure, undiluted Ben.
He cried out and clenched his sharp, white teeth as he groaned, and his shaft pulsed inside her, heat and wet warmth spilling out to bathe her thighs.
* * * *
He hadn’t meant to do that, to take her virginity, until they married, although he’d had no intention of staying away from her. That didn’t last long.
They could enjoy what they’d shared the other night, everything right up to complete penetration. But he could not regret it. Not when she gave him such bliss. He was shaken to the core. As he slid off her, he pulled her close. Dorothea draped a leg over his thighs and snuggled into his arms. This was where she should be. This felt right.
Why would he ever regret doing something so good?
They weren’t married, but they would be. He might even consider bringing the wedding forward, obtaining a special license from London. No, that would mean leaving her here for a week or more while he traveled there and back. He wouldn’t go while she was in potential danger. Louis had left, but his agents, in the form of servants and family, were still here.
The Making of a Marquess Page 17
