The blatant appeal made Dorothea catch her breath. But Honoria would have nothing to gain from seeing her brother-in-law as the new marquess. She couldn’t marry him, and she had only daughters, not eligible to inherit. Her portion would take care of their dowries, unless she’d spent that, too. It should have been left in trust.
“The decision might not be mine,” William reminded her, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. “I doubt either of us would object.”
The lines on his face tightened as he watched her. She must remind him so much of his loss. While William and Louis were never close, they were brothers. If called upon to take the place reserved for Louis, William would have to give up his army career. Just as he was on the brink of greatness, or so she’d read in the newspapers.
At ten, Angela got to her feet. “Well, the day has tired me out. Who would have thought that I would be the first to retire? But so it is. I bid you all good night.” She turned to Dorothea. “My dear, I have something in particular I wish to ask you. Would you accompany me to my room?”
“Yes, of course.”
Confused, and not a little alarmed, Dorothea glanced at Ben, who smiled reassuringly. “You cannot disappoint your dear friend.” He stood and offered his arm to Dorothea and his other to Angela. “Please allow me.”
With aplomb, he took them both out of the room. The footman closed the door for them, and they turned in the direction of Angela’s room. Once they were out of sight of the drawing room, Angela released Ben’s arm. “You don’t have to take me any farther. I can just about remember the right way to go. Good night, my dears.” She grasped Dorothea’s hand. “I am truly happy for you.”
“Oh! Th-thank you!”
Ben’s rumbled laugh followed Angela, but he turned and walked toward their part of the house. “A wily woman, Angela Childers. I always thought so. Beautiful, but any man claiming her hand will have his work cut out keeping up with her!”
While Angela’s tactic wasn’t particularly subtle, at least it got them out of that drawing room. Not one person had quit the drawing room. Usually in such a gathering, people would go their own ways earlier. They’d retire to their rooms to read or gather in smaller groups to play cards or play music. Not tonight, when they’d clung together as if afraid to be the first to leave.
But then, with somebody found murdered in his bed, perhaps they felt there was safety in numbers. Who knew who might be next?
Chapter 26
“I’m sorry Angela has set her face against marriage,” Dorothea said as they reached her bedroom door. “She could have anyone she wanted, but she rejects them all.”
He opened the door and met her gaze. “That is her concern. She must do as she sees fit.”
Standing back, he watched her enter, then followed her. Going into her room together felt like a ceremony. The doorway symbolized the start of something different; something wonderful.
He didn’t touch her until they were sure the room was empty. No servant hovered to attend to them. Dorothea turned, her skirts swinging about her legs, coming up against him as he tugged her into his arms. Then his mouth was on hers in a hungry, searching kiss. She cupped his cheeks, the sensitive skin on her palms roughly abraded by his emerging beard. The reminder of his masculinity, as if she needed any, thrilled her to her core, and her body began melting for him.
Pushing his hands between them, he found the pins holding her gown to her stomacher and tugged them out, dropping them carelessly to the floor. About to protest at the wanton waste and the danger of pins to bare feet, she smiled against his mouth at her own foolishness. She felt for the buttons on his waistcoat instead.
He unhooked and unpinned with unerring accuracy until her gown was loose, falling away when he pushed it off her shoulders. She hadn’t allowed the maid to do more than use the strings under the skirt to fit it to her. There were no more pins to impede the gown tumbling to the floor with a whoosh of fine silk. More pins followed, then her stomacher.
“Why do we wear so many clothes?” she moaned when he drew his mouth away from hers in order to locate the tapes of her corset.
“I have no idea. I would have you wear a simple gown, nothing else.” His voice had deepened to a growl. He lifted his head, looked behind her. But before she could turn to see if anyone was there, he’d tucked his hands under her thighs and lifted her, taking two firm steps to the wall. When he pushed her against it, the sharp crack and sudden give of fabric told her he’d broken her hoop. This time he growled before shoving his hands under her petticoats and finding the tapes that fastened the ruined hoops around her waist. He slid his hands over her skin, claiming her. She’d have said her hoops were firmly tied, but they yielded under his hands as if giving in to the inevitable. He lifted her as they fell and kicked them aside without marking where they landed.
She’d managed to get his waistcoat undone, and now only his finely pleated linen shirt lay between her and paradise. When the bulky coat got in her way, she dragged back the sides, and he paused to rid himself of it. It joined her gown on the floor.
Desperate for skin, she fumbled with his neckcloth. Finally she wrestled the knot undone so she could get rid of it, revealing the powerful column of his throat and a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. Knowing what awaited her beneath the expanse of fabric made her longing unbearable.
He lifted her again. “Put your legs around my waist.”
Dorothea was too shocked to do anything but obey. Her thighs contacted bare flesh. When had he managed to release the fall on his breeches? She didn’t know, but that meant his erection was free.
“So long,” she moaned. After a brief time of loving, they’d spent a week in the same bed, separated by their voluminous nightclothes and her reticence. But she’d become accustomed to having him there, even though he claimed the necessity of keeping her safe. Now she had none of that shyness. Had that been part of his plan? Because all she had now was need of having him.
At his first deep thrust, they both moaned with relief. He rested his forehead against hers. “I believe they were trying to keep us apart. I wanted you so much from the moment I put that ring on your finger. Sweetheart, this is our first time.”
“As man and wife?” Her voice came out breathy, as she was barely able to control it.
“As sweethearts. As a man and woman in love. Dear God, I love you, Dorothea.”
She opened her mouth to reply but could only respond physically as he kissed her again. He ate at her mouth like a starving man before pressing kisses over her face, down her throat. And then he drove inside her, giving her a completeness that made her cry out.
The paneling behind her dug into her back and shoulders when she pressed hard against it, the better to return his thrusts and to take him as far inside her as possible. The buttons of his waistcoat slid against the bare skin of her thighs, as he drove inside her with the intensity of the single-minded.
Her body tingled, every hair, every inch of skin alert and responsive. She lifted her chin, leaning her head against the wall, sucking in cool air, gathering strength. Gripping his upper arms, his muscles bulging like iron against her, she hung on and pushed back. She held her body rigid so that every time he hammered into her, the ripples consuming her gained in strength.
She came in a froth of lace, linen, and passion, crying his name as he gave one last thrust and held himself deep, giving her all he had.
Only the sound of their breathing broke the silence until the clock chimed three-quarters of an hour. They had done all this in a rush. She hadn’t even noticed the half-hour chime.
Now his kiss was tender, caressing rather than demanding, loving instead of lustful. He tasted her, and she closed her eyes, the better to glory in the wild coupling they had shared. She couldn’t pretend he had wanted it more than her, or that she had only obeyed her husband’s desires. She had wanted this every bit as desperately as he had. And
she had no need to hide it, or to pretend otherwise.
“Do I apologize?”
She laughed shakily. “Don’t you dare.”
His responding chuckle vibrated her breasts. He looked down. “We had best disentangle ourselves and get into that bed.”
* * * *
By the time he had stripped them both and lifted her into the bed they were sharing tonight, desire had begun to take him again. She had performed some kind of magic on him, and he was content. Happy, even.
Startled, he acknowledged the emotion, one he hadn’t experienced for years. Total happiness, and contentment that went far beyond what they had done. The floor was strewn with discarded clothes. He should locate the pins he’d torn out, because he didn’t want her to tread on one, but he didn’t seem to be able to let her go.
Ben snuggled his wife close, his arm securely around her shoulders. Dorothea lay on her side, her hand on his chest. He dropped a kiss on each fingertip before curling his hand around hers, loving the way it fit. One long leg was tucked between his, and her intimate hair tickled his flank deliciously.
“Better,” he murmured, and claimed another kiss.
Dorothea tasted sweet, and he couldn’t get enough of her. Especially when she responded so enthusiastically. “You are a constant delight,” he told her when he drew away. Not so far that he couldn’t claim another kiss.
“So are you. I love you, Ben.”
“Mmm. You will have to tell me that every day, in case I forget.”
“Will you?”
When she tried to pull back, he drew her closer. He didn’t like the note of alarm in her voice. “No, but tell me anyway. Hearing that on your tongue is better than any poem.”
“Ben, you’re positively eloquent!”
“Only with you, sweetheart. Only with you.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you weren’t eloquent in general, just that you are—careful with words.”
He liked that. “I spend them with caution. But you deserve all of them.”
She nuzzled his thigh with her knee, rousing him. “Such nonsense! But I like it.”
His cock stirred. “Take care, wife. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Don’t. Be a gentleman, I mean. I want a man in my bed, pure and simple.”
Giving in to temptation, he rolled on top of her. “Oh, I can promise you that.”
They made love again, but this time Ben took care to enjoy her, and to ensure she did the same. He adored her caresses, when she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, and down, lower, to take his erection in hand and guide him to her wet welcome.
And this time, when he came inside her, he was so overwhelmed he nearly fell asleep on top of her. He only rolled to one side when she pushed his shoulders. She sprawled over him and they gave in to sleep.
* * * *
When the light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Ben opened his eyes. He’d spent years waking with the sun, eager to get a full day’s work done before the light faded. Today he had no intention of rising, especially with Dorothea beside him, sleep-warm and breathing gently, her breasts nudging his rib cage with every sigh from her perfect lips.
How he could have fallen in love so completely in a month confounded him. Lying there, his senses at peace for once in his life, Ben processed what would happen next. He ran each possibility through his mind until he had satisfactory endings to all of them.
Except one. If they came to the conclusion that he had killed his cousin. Dorothea could not testify for or against her husband, since legally they were one entity, one person. If she had realized that, she wouldn’t have married him. And that would have been a great shame, so he’d chosen not to remind her of it.
The story had served its purpose. In any other woman he’d have suspected she did it to force him into marriage. Since he was as willing as any young groom with stars for eyes, he wouldn’t have cared much if she had. Except that wasn’t like Dorothea. He’d seen her face—acutely embarrassed and endearingly sweet when she’d blurted out their guilty secret. Secret no more, for they were tied together for life. And he couldn’t be happier about it.
He didn’t need to look at her to know she was awake. A tiny muscle in her wrist twitched as she woke. He’d noticed that before, though he doubted she knew she was doing it. Sometimes husbands should keep secrets, especially lovely ones like those.
“When did you know you loved me?” she murmured, stroking the tip of her forefinger down the center of his chest.
Ben forced himself to concentrate. “When the matter of making an heir ceased to have any importance for me.”
The movement stopped. “But you must. We must.”
He turned his head, smiling. “We will do what makes us happy. If we create a child, I’ll be more than happy.” He frowned, recalling what had happened before. That tragedy would never leave him, nor the child he had lost.
No. Not today.
He turned his mind away from the well-channeled groove he had slipped into and moved on to her original question. “William can marry. It’s time he shouldered some of the family obligations. He’s been running from them for most of his life. I daresay there might be somebody else, if we go back a few generations. I’ll ask Sir James to advise. Of course, if he decides for William, our troubles are over.” He stroked her skin, savoring the sensation, drawing a pattern on her belly. “I wish you did not have to go through the ordeal of childbirth, but I cannot refrain from making love to you. So I fear we must leave that part to fate. When it came to a choice, there was none. I’d rather live childless with you than have a quiverful of infants with someone else. But I can promise you that if we have a child, I will spend more time with it than Honoria does with her daughters.” Honoria spent an hour a day with the girls, if that. He had visited them a few times in the seclusion of the nursery wing and never found Honoria there.
She sighed happily. “I would love a family. But I have you. And Boston will be a new adventure. I am sure I’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure you will, too. I’d go so far as to say I’ll make sure of it.”
Their kiss lasted a bit longer this time.
But he owed her an apology. “I should have waited until Sir James confirmed or denied my right to the title. Given you a more secure future. But I wanted you too badly for that. And I wanted to ensure you were safe at nights, especially after Louis—after Louis.”
“I know. And if you’d waited, Honoria would have won you back.”
He caught her wrist, pulling her around to meet his eyes when she would have turned away. The doubt in her face was clear to see, and he didn’t like it. Before they left this bed, he’d have her completely certain of his love. Even if they couldn’t be sure of anything else. “No, she would never have done that. Never. Honoria is the kind of dazzling beauty men fall for, and don’t see the woman beneath. She’s not for me, and I can only be thankful that I lost the duel. We would have been unhappy together. I fear she is prone to take lovers, and my wife will never do that.”
That at least made her smile. “I know she will not.”
But one other person lay between them, and if he did not tell her the truth, that seed of doubt inside her could grow. He wanted to kill it before it did any real damage, and he would do it now. “And Mary. Let me tell you about her.”
If she thought it odd to bring another woman into their bed, she did not say. Many women would have refused to listen. He knew she was afraid, because he hadn’t said much about Mary. When he talked about Mary, he was careful to put her in the best light possible. She had not deserved her death, or the way he’d treated her beforehand; a crass youth, still finding his feet in the new world, he had not given her what she deserved. He went on before he could change his mind and lock his secrets back in his heart. “Mary was pretty, lively, and she laughed a lot. She loved flirting, but not in
the determined way many women use. She was an elf.”
He watched Dorothea carefully, aware he must be hurting her with his words. But she had to hear them. “Like the other men in Boston society, I was enchanted by her. But she decided on me and badgered her father into allowing the match. I had lost Honoria, and I was still sore at Louis’s victory. Mary was my way into a new life. Her father was enormously rich, and she was his only heir. And she was so different that I imagined myself in love with her. Or so I persuaded myself.”
There, that spark in her eyes. “I’m sorry she died and that you went through that tragedy.”
“You can’t be sorrier than I am. I should have known she was too delicate to bear my child. You see, Mary was tiny. Truly, under five feet and dainty with it. A fairy of a woman. By the time I married her, I knew I was not in love with her. She was all the things I told you, but she coupled that with a distinct lack of intelligence.” He bit his lip and forced the truth out, the facts that shamed him. “I should have backed away, left her to another suitor, but I was blinded by the idea of revenge against Louis. I thought I would return to London in triumph and conquer all. I accomplished part of that when I bought the fleet from Louis through a third party. I was involved in other matters, other businesses, and learning everything I could. And my antipathy faded away. It just didn’t matter anymore. But he did me a backhanded favor. Being forced to forge my own way in the world was the making of me.”
He wouldn’t let Dorothea look away. He gained strength from her steady gaze, honest and true. He could only honor her by giving her the same in return. That meant everything. “Mary could not manage a household, even the relatively modest one we had. She could never have handled Cressbrook, much less the other houses that belong to the estate. She would never have coped with the marquessate. Life was for amusement and parties and pretty clothes. I indulged her. After all, she’d brought me a great deal. But she took to coming to the office and the docks. Then she became pregnant and she was overjoyed. So was her father, who told her she had produced an heir for him at last.”
The Making of a Marquess Page 28
