The Marquess Meets His Match

by Maggi Andersen

  “No, they won’t.”

  Her breath increased. “How can you be sure?”

  “They wouldn’t dare. I told them we wished to be alone.”

  Her green eyes widened. “Why do such a thing? There will be gossip in the servants’ quarters.”

  “Servants love to talk. Why must we deny them something to talk about?” His hands roamed from her tiny waist to her bodice and full breasts, enjoying her soft curves. She was unlike the willowy women he was used to. Her derriere was plump and delightful against his hardening erection. Should he stop? He struggled with his conscience, and his conscience lost.

  He slid his hands up her smooth thigh, wishing to bare her body to his gaze and to kiss every inch of her.

  “Robert, should you…”

  “Yes. I intend to make love to you.”

  She squirmed and gasped. Her full lips open and inviting.

  “Now? Here?”

  “Why not now and here?” he asked, forced to remove his hand when she leapt up. He drew her down again. “Don’t you want me to touch you?”

  “But this is not the place.” Kate’s eyes widened, her small pink tongue licked her bottom lip, sending a bolt of fire straight to his groin. She gave a shy smile. “A kiss perhaps.”

  He found himself trembling as if it was the first time for him, too. He framed her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his. With an indrawn breath, he deepened the kiss. Kate moaned. Her hands threaded through his hair at the nape of his neck. Good lord, he’d started something now. How he wanted this luscious and delicate woman.

  She drew away with a deep shuddering breath. “The bedchamber at night would surely be the….”

  Robert began to undo the fastenings on her bodice. “I find myself unable to wait.”

  “Unable? But you said…”

  He managed the last without mishap and tucked his hand inside her shift, meeting soft warm flesh. He kissed her ear. “Can’t a man change his mind?” he whispered, kissing his way down her sweet neck.

  Kate shivered. “But not here.” She continued to make half-hearted attempts to evade his mouth which he disregarded as blood roared in his veins. “This is not the way—”

  “Hush.” He kissed her satin-skinned shoulder while he let his fingers wander.

  Frustrated, he wanted to see more of her. Hold her naked in his arms. Her shift was trimmed with lace and green ribbon, her corset embroidered with birds and violets. He pulled her laces. She looked delectable, good enough to eat. And he determined to do something very much like it.

  Robert’s breathing grew heavy and his groin tightened. He fumbled at his breeches to ease the constriction. Kate watched him, her eyes enormous. She opened her mouth to protest, and he kissed her to silence her. The kiss lengthened, and when he drew away, he gazed into her beautiful green eyes with warm hints of amber, then tasted her lips again. He couldn’t get enough of her sweet mouth. He drew away to find Kate breathing fast, her pretty lips swollen and lush. So, she enjoyed his kisses! Confident, his hands continued their work, and while she didn’t assist him, neither did she stop him. He drew up her gown and petticoats, a froth of ribbons, lace, and silk spilling over the sofa.

  He panted, his mind fogged with lust as he cupped her breast and rubbed a taut nipple through the thin lawn of her shift and was gratified when Kate arched her back with a mew of pleasure.

  Robert broke away to gaze at her lovely face. Her flushed skin was rosy and beautiful, her eyes hazy with desire, her breath as urgent as his.

  He had to have her sweet body convulsing with pleasure under him.

  “Don’t you think it’s time we made love?” he asked, his voice tight with need.

  “But not…”

  *

  Oh my. Kate gazed around the room wildly, as her determination to resist him slipped away. Soon she wouldn’t care if the servants entered and found her nude and engaged in… What was he doing now? His hand stroked to the top of her thigh. She feebly grasped his wrist to stay its journey, but he gently batted her hand away and reached that special part of her.

  His touch caused an exposition of feeling, and she almost collapsed. Her protest ended on a long sigh, as her tense muscles loosened, and exquisite pleasure flooded through her body softening her bones. She could only murmur and lie back within the circle of his arm. Yes, oh yes, how she did want him. Wanted more of the sensations he produced with his clever hands and his wonderful mouth, more desperately than she would have thought possible. She was eager for them to become a proper man and wife. It was as it should be.

  She raised her head and searched his eyes, longing to find evidence that Robert’s seduction was born out of love. Desire sparked in the blue depths of his eyes, turning them dark with a smoldering passion. But did he look at her? Really see her? Or was this merely a pleasurable game.

  That she could move him to such desire made aware of her womanly power. And while she reveled in it, she tried to ignore the small thread of regret which refused to be banished from her mind. A need for him to woo her with love and treat her with respect. And it was not respectful to treat her this way in the salon.

  All thoughts vanished as he stroked her sensitive feminine folds, while he murmured, his voice roughened by passion, praising her beauty, how much he desired her while stirring up powerful urges and sending her body into a trembling, demanding state of bliss. She melted against him, no longer able to deny the yearning he stirred in her, so intoxicating she struggled to remember where she was. Only that she wanted more of his kisses. Of him. But then that lingering doubt intruded again. Her eyes flew open. With a glance at the door, she tensed, unable to give herself completely. So intimate an act should be special. Their first time, the sealing of their love. Something to remember through all their years together. Would a frantic coupling in this room without mention of love—he not declaring it—and she not admitting it, do that?

  Now he was doing something entirely delicious to her breasts. Under his ministrations her nipples became sensitive conduits that carried waves of heat to that pulsing spot between her thighs. She flushed with embarrassment at how moist and hot she’d become there while his erection pressed against her bottom, filling her with curiosity and yearning.

  *

  Robert kissed her, and Kate sighed against his mouth. How lovely her breasts, so full and firm in his hands. He roamed the curve of her waist and hip returning to her smooth thigh and her soft curls. He badly wanted to kiss her there. He slid a finger gently inside her. Kate tensed and gave a muffled cry. She slid her legs apart and offered herself to him. Lord! How luscious she was, wet and slick beneath his fingers. He had to be inside her. Through the fog of lust clouding his brain, he was aware he must go carefully. She may be aroused, but the first time wasn’t always pleasant, and he needed to make it so.

  Her eyes closed, and she moaned as he stroked that small pearl swollen and hard with need. He gently rolled it between his fingers.

  “Oh!” She gripped his shoulders and her hips bucked under his hand.

  As his fingers delved deeper inside her, voices and the clink of glassware sounded outside in the corridor.

  Kate’s eyes flew open. She gave a muffled cry and gripped his coat. “I can’t! Not now… like this.”

  “Yes, darling, just like this,” he said between heavy breaths. He couldn’t stop now, not if the house was on fire.

  “No!” Kate swiveled and placed her hand against his chest. She pushed him back hard. Startled at the determined force behind it, Robert saw her genuine distress and let her go.

  He had never forced a woman. Never had to. She clambered to her feet and stood facing him, her hands on her hips. Beneath her loosened corset, her unfettered breasts bounced under her shift in a way that stirred his loins to fever pitch. He groaned.

  Her eyes blazed with rage and some other emotion that sliced at him like a rapier. Was it disappointment? “Don’t mistake me for your mistress, Robert.”

  She pulled u
p her stockings, retying the ribbon above her knees. She had long legs for one of diminutive stature. Robert’s gaze rose slowly to her face when her words finally sank in to his lust-befogged brain. “No,” he said levelly. “You are not my mistress. So?”

  She held her bodice defensively against her chest. “You will not treat me like her.”

  Robert crossed his legs and winced. “I don’t believe I was.”

  “I’m not privy to the way you treat your mistress, but I know how I wish to be treated as your wife.”

  It dawned on him that Kate had somehow discovered Anastasia. “And how is that?”

  Her pretty, pink lips firmed. He wanted very much to kiss them again and being thwarted made him extremely unsatisfied.

  This was not turning out the way he’d hoped. He’d come back from the stables with the intention of making love to her. He should have been more patient. He’d lost his head. It was all this pent-up desire. Was he a callow youth for God’s sake?

  Kate turned her back for him to do up her corset. “If you wish us to be civil to each other, you shall escort me out in the evening and stay by my side for much of the evening. You shall kiss my hand and compliment my gown and be nice to me.”

  Robert obediently did up the hooks on her gown and was stabbed with a pin for his pains. He was in error, but Kate could push him only so far. “There are plenty of men in the ton who will fawn on you and pay you fulsome compliments. And more if you should wish it.”

  Kate stamped her foot. “I don’t want fulsome compliments. I don’t want other men. I want honest affection. I want to be cherished, and…”—she gave a sob—“… loved. If that is impossible, then I shall remove myself from beneath your roof.”

  “That is a consideration, certainly.” Robert rose, his desire still an uncomfortable fact, tightening his breeches. His annoyance grew. He would not be dictated to in this fashion. If she’d been brought up a lady, she would know better than to question his behavior. But then she might find a lover of her own. The thought chilled him.

  Kate gathered up the rest of her things and flew out of the room.

  When the door shut behind her, Robert went to pour himself a brandy. He sat for a while brooding about her skin and how soft it was to touch. He tried to move his thoughts from the image of Kate’s full lips in a pout, her fine, straight brows scowling, and her full breasts heaving in indignation as she stamped her foot. She looked magnificent. But she demanded too much from him, she wanted his very soul. He was a private person. He never wished for that and, but for the need of an heir, hadn’t wished to marry. And now, it seemed, to have peace in his own house, or even make love to his wife, he must become one of those unfortunate husbands led about by leading strings.

  Oh, no, not he. He didn’t know what love was, and this sensation in his chest, as if his heart had split in two, was surely just the result of frustrated desire. Intolerable!

  He put down his glass and stormed out of the room. He would not be home for dinner, he instructed his inscrutable butler and left for his club.

  Chapter Eight

  Kate scurried up to her bedchamber. Relieved not to encounter any servants on the stairs, she managed to close the door before a loud sob burst from her throat. She had wanted Robert to make love to her, desperately. She loved him with a passion that would last a lifetime, whatever happened between them. The strength of her emotions caused her to gasp in surprise. Why, when he did not deserve her love? Perhaps because she’d glimpsed the fine man, he could be when he was not retreating from any intimacy between them, and it gave her hope. If she allowed him to continue to treat her so casually, however, their relationship would never rise above that of so many of the ton, an indifferent arrangement to suit both parties.

  Well, it would not suit her to live that way. She undressed and paced the room in her shift and petticoats, considering what best to do. In the end, she fell onto the bed, her tears dampening the pillow with the solution still no clearer.

  Kate woke to a shadowy room. She’d slept for hours, and night approached. A possible answer to their problems had come to her when she lay half-asleep. Robert carried some sort of hurt. Might it have something to do with his estrangement from his mother? She remembered when they’d met in the ballroom, how on edge he had been, and how he spoke so unkindly to her. It was possible she might gain some knowledge of how to improve things between her and Robert from Lady Charlesworth.

  Tomorrow, she would go and see her. She slipped from the bed and rang for Brigitte.

  They had an engagement to attend this evening. She heaved a sigh. Would Robert appear at dinner? She expected things between them to be strained.

  “I’ll wear the rose pink and cream dinner gown, Brigette, and the ruby earrings,” Kate said when Brigitte came in.

  The maid studied her. “A cool cloth over your eyes, perhaps my lady.”

  “Very well.” Kate was determined to appear at her best.

  That evening, rested and more in control of her emotions, she waited in the salon for Robert to join her.

  “Good evening.” Her foolish heart leapt when he walked in, cool and handsome in a sapphire-blue silk taffeta coat embroidered in silver thread with a froth of lace at the neck and cuff. His blue eyes glowered silently at her. He was angry, it was evident by his stiff bow. Well, wasn’t she entitled to be angry, too? He nodded toward the drink’s tray. “Do you care for Madeira or sherry before dinner?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He must have sensed it would be useless to make conversation, for he came and offered her his arm. She slipped her arm through his as tension tied her shoulders in knots. What might she say to him to lighten this dark mood? The very touch of his silk-clad arm beneath her fingers and his scent made her heart race. Her mind retraced every detail of their lovemaking despite it ending so badly. To recall his kisses and what his clever hands did to her body made her swallow a sigh.

  It was so hard to be near him like this and not want his arms around her, to be engulfed by his strength and his maleness, and relish how strongly it affected him. To be tender and loving toward him. Would it have happened if she’d insisted they go to her bedchamber? She wanted to tell him how much she desired him, how she regretted what had taken place between them, but a glance at his profile made her firm her lips. He’d retreated into his shell again and was as remote from her as the first night they met.

  Their sad lack of conversation continued as the first course was served. Not able to speak of important issues, Kate wracked her brain to find something amusing to say and decided any attempt would fall flat. She swallowed a little of the oyster soup before pushing the bowl away. Then moved potted asparagus around her plate with her fork. By the time the roast meats were removed along with the salad, Kate could bear the silence no longer. She had to speak to him even if they argued. “Did you have a pleasant afternoon?”

  “I did. And you?”

  “Not very. Robert…”

  “Not here, Kate.” He frowned as a servant brought in the dessert course.

  Kate declined the syllabub and selected a nut from the dish. “I thought I’d wear my green damask this evening.”

  He lowered his wine glass. “What about the sea green?”

  “The Italian silk? If you prefer it.” She was pleased that he expressed an interest.

  “Yes, it makes you look regal.”

  Regal? Kate would never have chosen such a word to apply to herself. Was that what he wished of her? Then it was understandable why she’d failed to impress him or gain his affection. Must she spend the rest of her life attempting to appear regal? She didn’t know where to begin. Perhaps the dress of his choice would help. She put down her napkin, and the footman rushed to pull back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I must dress.”

  Robert stood and bowed.

  Brigitte had just begun the finishing touches to Kate’s toilette, when a knock sounded at the door. Kate gave a nervous start. “That must be Robert.” Had he come to i
nspect her and see if she looked regal enough? She licked her lips nervously as feelings of inadequacy consumed her.

  A footman bowed. “Lord Southmore is below, my lady. He wishes to attend while you dress.”

  “Watch me dress?” Appalled, Kate frowned into the mirror and pulled her wrap over her chest, tightening the sash. “What can he mean?”

  “He asks to come to your boudoir, my lady,” Brigitte said, “to assist with the placing of your patches, jewelry, and hair adornment. It is often done.”

  “Indeed?” Kate thought this a most deplorable fashion.

  “You would insult him should you refuse.”

  Kate remembered Robert’s warning about his friend, but it only served to make her rebellious. Would Robert be just a little jealous to find Southmore had been here? “This is the way of things?”

  “Oh yes, my lady. I have seen it done many times.”

  She was sure that Lord Southmore didn’t wish her to look regal. “Have him come up, Brigitte.”

  Shortly afterward, the elegant man, dressed in peach satin, entered the room, and came to kiss her hand. “Lady St. Malin.”

  How civil he was. And quite attractive, she hadn’t noticed that before. She suspected a man such as he would never give a woman a moment’s heartache. “Lord Southmore.”

  Southmore stood behind Kate as Brigitte opened the box containing patches. “Now let me see. One here, I think.” He leaned forward and traced her cheekbone with a feather light touch. “And one at the very corner of your mouth, to highlight one of your best features.” He brushed beneath her bottom lip with the tips of his fingers before withdrawing his hand.

  Kate wanted to giggle but refrained because Southmore appeared quite serious. “Thank you, my lord. You have an eye for it.” Perhaps he’d had a good deal of practice, she thought wryly.

  Southmore’s gaze moved over her, the warm light in his gray eyes failing to match his impersonal tone. “Now for the hair.” He turned to study her waiting gown. “An excellent choice. That lovely shade of green will pay homage to your eyes. Silk gardenias are perfect.”