The Marquess Meets His Match

by Maggi Andersen

  He accepted that he and Kate had been fighting a war and the prize was his freedom. A man had to keep a cool head, or he’d find himself turned into an obliging lap dog, with every shred of his masculinity gone. But somehow, as much as he wanted to return to his old life, something stopped him. He had no taste for cards at his club, despite knowing friends would be there. With a shake of his head, he raised his cane to hail a hackney, the option after an excruciating night was to return to his cold bed.

  Robert woke. Or was he still dreaming? A soft body nestled beside him. He caught the fragrant scent of damask roses and his heart, and another part of his body leapt. Kate.

  Not pausing to question it, he responded before she changed her mind, gathering her warm, enticing curves close. He whispered in her ear, “You have forgiven me my abhorrent behavior, then.”

  Her sweet breath touched his cheek. “If you’ve forgiven me for slapping you.”

  “I deserved it,” he said diplomatically. “May I light a candle?”

  She paused. “All right.”

  After candlelight flooded the room, he stared at Kate. If this was a dream, please let it continue. She wore a saucy, almost transparent nightgown of black lace. It was something he would expect Anastasia to wear, not his innocent little wife. She did look enchanting in it. Her sun-kissed curls flowed over her shoulders reminding him of Titian’s painting Venus of Urbino which hung in the upper gallery. Venus was naked, and Robert was rocked with a very strong desire to remove the garment, pretty as it was. “Where did you get that nightgown?”

  “I saw it at my modiste’s the other day. She was making it for someone else. I persuaded her to sell it to me.”

  “I’m very pleased you did. I didn’t know you were out today. Did you take your maid with you?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head.

  He tried to summon annoyance at her continued lack of propriety in the hope that he could hang on to some perspective, but failed as his blood surged, and his heart pounded. Right now, he didn’t give a damn. And rather than appearing apologetic, Kate’s green eyes defied him, while her white teeth nibbled her plump lower lip, inviting him to kiss her.

  Robert lost his breath, his groin tightening. “You are so lovely,” he said gruffly. His gaze traveled from her nicely shaped ankles up to where her breasts thrust against the whisper-thin material. Her skin was like polished porcelain in the candlelight. Her delicate bones and slender body made him want to shield her from all hurt while horribly aware that he’d been the one who’d hurt her most.

  *

  “I feel beautiful when you look at me like that,” Kate whispered.

  “You’re trembling.” Robert trailed a finger down her arm. There was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. She recognized desire, but there was a softness, too, as if he really looked at her and didn’t just lust after her.

  “A little.”

  Kate released the breath she had been holding. She had been afraid he would turn her away.

  Robert framed her face with his hands. “I promise never to hurt you, Kate. If I have in the past, I’m confoundedly sorry for it.”

  “Oh, Robert!” Kate sighed as the tension leached from her limbs. Only a little apprehension remained for what lay ahead.

  *

  Robert bent to kiss her, tasting her full lips. How he had wanted to do this and know that she wouldn’t fly out of his arms at the slightest provocation. He drew away the lacy fabric of her nightgown and uncovered a breast, bending to kiss a nipple. Her skin was soft and fragrant. She sucked in a ragged breath and clutched his shoulders. Aware she was nervous, his tongue gently teased a nipple, turning it marble hard. Her delighted gasp stirred a corresponding delight in him, but it was so much more than desire. His heart swelled with joy. It was an emotion like no other he’d ever experienced. It stunned him, enveloped him, and he almost pulled away in fear of it.

  “Kate.” He groaned and ripped the fragile lace as he pulled it over her head. “I’ll buy you another,” he promised. “Just like it. One for every night of the week.” He rained kisses over her soft throat. “I want you so much.”

  “I want you, too, Robert,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.

  He groaned. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

  “I think I wanted you, too.”

  He smiled. “And you still do. Despite everything?”

  She smiled back, shyly. “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m a lucky, undeserving fellow.” He kissed her, deepening the kiss until they both were breathless. “The only thing I can say in my defense is I needed time to wrestle with a few demons.”

  “I know.”

  He hesitated. “You know?”

  “Love is glorious, but when one gives up one’s very soul to it, it can also be frightening.”

  She loved him. Robert tenderly traced her lustrous lips and bent to kiss them again. “How did you come to be so wise?”

  In the soft golden candlelight, he ran his hands over her body, from the jutting fullness of her pale breasts and down over the curve of her slender waist to the downy hair at the base of her stomach and her rounded thighs. He longed to part them and discover that delicious part of her. Mustn’t hurt her, he cautioned himself. Don’t behave like an oaf. Don’t spoil it.

  His hand roamed over her delightful curves. His hand found the velvety soft skin of her inner thigh and climbed higher.

  Kate murmured as he stroked her plump, damp softness, and he watched with delight as her eyes grew dazed and she made gasping little cries of pleasure. Moments later, she fell back on the pillow breathing hard. With a smile, she reached for his face, tracing a finger over his lips.

  He caught her hand and kissed it. Her passionate response made his heart bang against his ribs. “Do you want me, Kate?” he asked hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. It seemed as if his whole life depended on it.

  Kate pulled him down. “Yes. Yes.”

  She invited him to touch her, to taste her. Her lips parted under his, and he explored the sweet cavern of her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers, sending another crashing wave of need flooding through him.

  Robert sat up and drew off his nightshirt. He settled between her legs, and she hugged him to her, pulling him close against her soft curves, her firm breasts and taut nipples rubbing against his chest. The blood surged through his body as she nibbled his ear and raked her fingers through his hair.

  She might be an innocent, but you could never accuse Kate of being straight-laced or priggish, as he’d expected a virgin to be. He delighted in watching her gain in confidence since she’d come to London. And how in the bedchamber where she’d become an intoxicating mix of nymph and siren. What joy lay in the years ahead.

  Her hands danced along his back and she murmured words of love. Desire roared in his ears as her words became incoherent. Her body was hot and slick with desire, and he thought he might explode with the exquisite pleasure of it. He entered her, met with resistance, and pushed, breaking though.

  She cried out, and he faltered. “Have I hurt you? Shall I go on?”

  “Don’t stop, please.” Her voice shook.

  He moved slowly as her body sheathed him, drawing him into her hot center. The need to thrust into her and claim her as his own grew so strong it was hard to resist. But he held himself in check and knew he could not last long. “Next time,” he promised.

  He cried her name as he came.

  *

  As the first fragile rays of dawn crept through the crack in the curtains, Kate stirred. Robert slept with his face against the pillow, his naked body stretched out across the bed. She snuggled close as her heart swelled with love. Surely now, he was entirely hers. Yet, some uneasiness remained. Would she be enough for him? Would he be faithful, and more importantly, did he love her? Even in the throes of passion he had not said those words.

  “Robert? It’s almost morning. I must return to my bedchamber.”

  Kate ran her han
d over his back and arms, enjoying the shape of muscles and sinews beneath his satiny skin. She marveled at his masculine strength, she boldly stroked his smooth rounded backside, so unlike a woman’s. Her body felt pleasantly sore, and she blushed at the memories of their night together.

  Robert yawned. He raked his fingers through his hair, ruffling it and making her fingers twitch to smooth it. “We’re married, Kate. It’s perfectly all right for you to remain here.”

  The servants would suffer no illusions wherever she woke up that morning. He lay smiling at her like a big satisfied cat. “And I’m not finished with you.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. “I will never be,” he said huskily.

  Kate pushed slightly away from him, searching his eyes. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Her stomach tightened with anxiety even though Robert’s hands produced delightful sensations everywhere they touched. A pleasant ache spread through her nether regions, and the memory of last night’s tender lovemaking threatened to distract her from her purpose.

  There must be nothing standing between them. She must tell him.

  He propped his head on his hand. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Yesterday, I visited your mother.”

  “You did what?” Robert rolled away from her and sat up. “Why?” His brows snapped together, looking thunderous, and she quaked.

  She took a deep anxious breath. “I visited your mother. And I met your half-sister and brother. I like them, Robert, very much.”

  “You had no right to do such a thing.” The harsh condemnation in his voice made her shiver. She clasped the sheet to her chest, defensively rocked by how cold and impersonal his blue eyes had become.

  “I needed to know what had hurt you so much.”

  “And did my mother oblige? I suppose you know the whole sorry tale.” He left the bed and stalked over to his dressing gown, pulling it on. “Will you leave things alone now?”

  “She asked me to visit her again. I promised I would.” Kate lay in the cooling bed, suffering a sense of abandonment. But she still clung to the hope she could convince him of the rightness of it. That to deal with the past and put it behind them would be healing.

  He paused from tying his robe and stared at her, his eyes dark with anger. Or was it hurt? “You promised?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “You went right ahead and did just what you wanted, with no thought of how your actions might hurt me.”

  Wrapping herself in a sheet to cover her nakedness, she put a foot to the floor. She hurried toward him, almost tripping. “But Robert, I wanted to mend things, not hurt you further, don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t see at all,” he said, his voice icy. “I see only that you wished things to be as you choose. And disregarded my wishes entirely.”

  “Do you realize that when your father died, he left your mother with very little money?” she flung at him. “She married to protect you from poverty.”

  He paused at the door. “My father would never have left her in Dun territory.”

  “He did, Robert.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Why didn’t she apply to my uncle?” He ran his hand along the doorframe, considering it. Then he straightened to face her. “If it was so, my mother didn’t bother to make me aware of it.” He shook his head. “And it makes no difference now.”

  She put a hand to her stomach. “What happens if we have a child?”

  “All to the good. I need an heir.”

  Did that mean he could then send her away? “Your mother will be a grandparent. Don’t you want her to be part of that? Your children’s lives blessed with loving relations? I’ve none to offer them.”

  “That is surely for me to decide.”

  Was this the same man who made love to her so tenderly? The hero and lover of her dreams? His expression was closed, and he turned away from her with a dismissive gesture, as if she meant nothing to him. As if…he wanted to be gone.

  “I want so much from this marriage, Robert,” she said, her voice trembling. “That’s why I tried to make amends between you and your mother.”

  “You should not have taken such a thing upon yourself.”

  She clutched the sheet to her chest. “No, it seems not. You may be disappointed in me for trying to put an end to a family rift that has made you unhappy. But I am equally disappointed in you. You are unfair.”

  He whirled around. “I beg your pardon?”

  Kate gasped. “You…you cannot forgive others their mistakes, but you remain quite content with your own!”

  She swallowed. “You are…spoiled and you are…” She groped for words as anger and distress threatened to close her throat. “Arrogant!”

  Robert’s face blanched white. “I believe I’ll retire to my dressing room,” he said. “You are welcome to remain here if you wish.”

  He threw open the door and left the room, closing it behind him.

  With a sob, Kate pulled on her gown and gathered up the tattered remains of the expensive nightgown. She walked out into the shadowy corridor and tiptoed back to her bedchamber, sniffing back tears. On reaching it, she climbed into her bed and sobbed into the pillow. Perhaps it was unwise to speak to his mother, but the anguish of living as they had when she loved him, was something she couldn’t bear.

  Robert had been right. She should have realized she couldn’t set all to rights. That she’d desperately wanted to be part of his family as well as having children of her own was no justification for what she did. How mistaken she’d been. Now her dreams had turned to ashes.

  She wiped her eyes on the corner of the sheet and gulped. Robert making love to her, so passionate and yet so tender, and the pleasure he gave her, she would dream about for the rest of her life, for surely, he would never make love to her again.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following sennight passed with a strained silence between them, their argument never mentioned. Kate met Robert for dinner every evening, and he escorted her to social events. He did just what she demanded of him, complimenting her gown and remaining by her side for a good part of the evening. It was as if they performed for an audience, then went their separate ways, he supposedly to his friends at the club, her to her new friends at card parties and morning teas. She had never wished for this shabby pretense and railed against it. But what could she do? She could hardly try seducing him again, having failed so miserably before. The thought of a rebuff was too painful to contemplate.

  By the third week, she feared she would explode and do something outrageous, just to gain his attention and make him look at her as if he really saw her.

  They attended Lady Pendlebury’s ball, one of the last of the Season, and Kate found, despite her low spirits or perhaps because of them, she welcomed the sight of the familiar and friendly faces gathering together.

  With Robert at her side, she joined in the discussion of the latest play she and Robert had seen earlier that week, Race for a Wife at the Delphi Theatre, how rowdy the audience was, despite Frank Moreland as Sir Peckham Wry making a good fist of the role.

  “My, that’s such a pretty gown you’re wearing,” Mrs. Summerton remarked, a newly married woman of a similar age to Kate. “Where did your dressmaker find such exquisite silk damask?”

  Kate smoothed the folds of the elaborate gold gown. She considered herself quite grand with the two dyed ostrich plumes in her hair. “Paris,” she said with a smile.

  “But of course!” Mrs. Summerton cried.

  Mr. Summerton crossed the room to join them. He bowed. “Good evening, Lady St. Malin.” He smiled with an apologetic shrug. “If you’ll permit, I will borrow your husband for a moment. We shall leave you to talk about furbelows and fripperies.” He took Robert’s arm, and they strolled off, deep in conversation. A reference to the horse races drifted back with the tangy odor of snuff.

  Kate looked after them, her eyes on Robert’s wide shoulders encased in bronze silk. She would enjoy this so much more if things w
ere right between them. She sighed as Amelia, Lady Langden, who’d become a firm friend, approached. She would no doubt wish to discuss the latest scandals and on-dits. Kate would listen politely, her lips remaining firmly closed. It would not do to have her opinion repeated. Although she was a marchioness, she was new to society, and lacked the lineage to impress. She wanted to make friends, not enemies.

  As Kate walked the length of the long room on Lady Langden’s arm, to where a small group gathered around a tall, Rubenesque, blonde-haired woman who had just entered.

  “Who is she?” Kate asked.

  “That’s Mrs. Marchant.” Amelia Langden turned a wry smile in Kate’s direction. “Formerly Millicent Burrowdale.”

  The woman in her mid-twenties who was dressed in a low-cut gown, which revealed much of her excellent figure, emerged from the group on her husband’s arm. He was considerably shorter than his wife, and stout, his waistcoat straining over his stomach.

  As Kate watched, Millicent approached Robert, fluttered her eyelashes, and playfully tapped his arm with her fan. He bowed, spoke briefly to her and her husband, then walked on.

  “She’s very beautiful, and she knows my husband. Well, I think.” Kate suffered a rush of jealousy that heated her cheeks.

  Amelia nodded, and tugged on Kate’s arm, turning her in another direction. “Let’s sit over there.”

  They took a glass of champagne from a waiter and settled on two gilt chairs beside a potted rhododendron.

  “I should tell you this,” Amelia said, gazing around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Your husband once asked for Millicent’s hand. But her father, who’d made his money in trade, rejected his offer for a nabob’s son. It was judged absurd at the time, but her husband could buy up half of England and a good deal of France. You should see her diamonds. As big as goose eggs.”

  “So that is she,” Kate said pensively, watching Millicent cross the room. She was tall and fair with those attributes that Robert admired.