How to Catch a Sinful Marquess

by Amy Rose Bennett

  His resistance was threatening to crumble like Muircliff’s burned south tower. He forced himself to adopt an expression that would intimidate. An unyielding, hard-as-steel glare. “Yes. I do.”

  “Oh, Hamish.” Her lovely mouth curved with a soft smile. “You really need to stop trying to save me.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Hamish inhaled sharply. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  Olivia reached up and cradled his chiseled, rock-hard jaw. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’ve been trying to save me from the moment we first met. And that’s why you keep pushing me away and denying what’s in your heart. You want to save me from the monster you mistakenly think you are. But I love you, Hamish MacQueen. And I have for the longest time. I’m not going anywhere. And if you send me away”—she lifted her chin—“I’ll only come back. You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, remember?”

  A muscle flickered in Hamish’s lean cheek. His throat worked in a swallow. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured huskily. “You’re young, and just like Isobel, you only fancy yourself—”

  “In love? Yes, I’m young. But this is not a passing f-fancy. I will admit, that for quite some time, I was in love with the idea of you. Charlie told me about the notorious Scottish rakehell, the Marquess of Sleat, at the beginning of the Season. And it is also true that I admired you, my handsome, mysterious neighbor, from afar for months and months. In a decidedly silly, girlish way of course.

  “And then we met and desire replaced my calf-love. I burned for you, Hamish, with an intensity that frightened me. But little by little, I got to know you, and it’s the real you, in here”—she brushed her fingertips across his temple—“whom I fell in love with. All of you. All your fears and imperfections. And all the very best parts of you too. Your kind heart. Your strength. Your willingness to go out of your way to help others. To save others without fail. Not just me, but your mother and your sister. A little girl who could very well have been your daughter. Your former mistress. Heavens, I’m sure you would have scaled that garden wall just outside and climbed that beech tree to save Charlie’s cat if I’d asked you to.

  “But no matter how much you try to hide from me, you can’t. You might play the brutish beast, but I can see through your fearsome, gruff exterior to the man beneath. I’m not afraid of any of your scars, inside or out. And I’m certainly not afraid of what I want.”

  Both of her hands cradled his profoundly handsome face. How she’d love to kiss away that anguished expression. The tight lines bracketing his mouth and his eyes—one sightless and concealed by a leather patch, but the other a beautiful storm-cloud gray. But her kisses wouldn’t heal. Only her own, imperfectly formed words could do that. “I . . . I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I want you, Hamish, quite desperately and un-unashamedly, and I will always choose you over any other man. I want our marriage. I want to have your children. We can be happy together. I feel it in here.” She touched her chest where her heart raced quite madly. “And I feel it in my soul. We—both of us—just have to be willing to make it work.”

  “God knows I want to, Olivia.” Hamish’s deeply graveled voice was almost a groan. “Only I don’t see how. I’ll always be deathly afraid that I can’t control myself when I’m asleep. If I ever hurt you—” He broke off, his voice cracking. “I could never forgive myself.”

  A violent tremor vibrated through him as Olivia slid her hands to his shoulders, so taut beneath her fingertips. “Hamish, you ask too much of yourself. But I understand that you fear what you can’t control. So don’t try to. If we must always sleep in separate beds as many other ton couples do, so be it. Or we can have another bed installed in your room. Or mine. I don’t care. A man with your sexual prowess can’t deny that we can make love anywhere, anytime. You can have me on the terrace or on the stairs. Take me up against a wall or on the dining room table or on your library desk in the middle of the day. That way you don’t need to fret about accidentally falling asleep beside me. In fact, we could even agree to abstain from engaging in all forms of nighttime bed sport if it makes you feel better.” She smiled. “I’m willing to compromise if you are. Then we can both eat our cake and have it too.

  “And if that’s not enough to convince you”—she lifted one of his hands and feathered a kiss across his scarred knuckles—“I know you don’t have an inherently violent streak. Hudson told me that you’d taken laudanum and were hallucinating when you struck him. And you’ve never done anything like that since. So I won’t let you end our marriage just because you have this mistaken belief you are monstrous and sinful, when nothing could be further from the truth. I only see the good in you, Hamish. I love how noble you are. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I truly do.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Hamish released a great shuddering sigh and bowed his head, pressing his forehead to Olivia’s. One of his hands crept along her shoulder, then clasped her elegant nape beneath the heavy fall of her dark, glossy curls.

  Olivia’s heartfelt declarations, her sweetness, her strength, her willingness to believe in him and stand by him, her love, all of it disarmed him. Destroyed all of his defenses.

  This infinite tenderness in her touch and in her gaze. This complete acceptance of all that he was and everything that he wasn’t . . . It was his undoing.

  How could he resist her, his lovely wife? For her, he could be brave.

  For her, he would do anything.

  He lifted his head and, with his other hand, caressed her beautiful face. “Olivia. My sweet, bonnie lass. Mo chridhe. I love you. I cannot deny it. Indeed, I love you so much and so fiercely, I fear I will be consumed by it. I can feel the power of it with every beat of my heart. The surge of it in my blood. It resonates through my whole body, right down to my very bones. And I will love you with every fiber of my being until the moment I draw my last breath.”

  “I believe you, Hamish,” she whispered. Her brown eyes were luminous with tears. “I feel exactly the same way.” Turning her head, she kissed his palm. Then she stood on her tiptoes, reached up, and pressed her mouth to his. She kissed him with deliberate, agonizing slowness. Her silken, petal-soft lips brushed and teased. Her breath, warm and sweet, melded with his.

  And Hamish melted. Yes. On a groan, he dragged Olivia against him and deepened the contact, tasting her thoroughly. Drinking her in.

  This. This was what he wanted. These endless, perfect, passionate, ardor-drenched kisses. He would never tire of them. They would feed his hungry soul until the end of time.

  Olivia slid her mouth to his ear. “Hamish, my dearest heart,” she whispered. “Love me. It’s time to make me yours. I burn for you so badly, I fear I’ll catch fire if you don’t.”

  “Gladly.” With a growl, he swept her into his arms.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded. But her reddened, kiss-swollen lips trembled in a smile.

  “To my bedroom of course,” he replied as he exited the drawing room and crossed the hall with floor-eating strides. “It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, so there’s plenty of daylight left. And as this is your first time, we’re going to do this properly.”

  “I hope we’re going to do rather improper things too.”

  “Aye.” Hamish grinned. “You can be sure of that.”

  Kicking the bedroom door shut with his booted foot, Hamish carried Olivia to the bed and sat her on the edge of the mattress. Then, after drawing the curtains, he made sure the room was secure and valet free. There would be no interruptions. Not today.

  He wanted his wife all to himself.

  Olivia had already begun to let down her hair when he returned to the bed.

  “Here, let me help,” he murmured, feeling for combs and pins in the glorious tumbling mass.

  Tipping her head back a little, she smil
ed up at him. “Only if I can help undress you too.”

  “We have a deal.”

  Within minutes, Olivia was wearing nothing but her chemise, and Hamish was naked from the waist up. Discarded clothes were scattered over the silk counterpane and on the Turkish rug beneath his bare feet. His swollen, aching cock strained against the fall of his breeches.

  Olivia lightly raked her nails over his bare chest, making him shiver with want. “In your study at Muircliff, you told me that you were a braw Highlander, Hamish. And I couldn’t think of a more apt description. Just look at you.” Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded with longing as her gaze traced over his body. “Such power and beauty. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

  “Believe it, lass. Every single inch of me is yours.” Hamish rubbed his fingers lightly over one of her dusky pink nipples and watched it pucker with arousal beneath her shift. “And I cannot wait to claim you.”

  Tenderly cupping both of her full breasts, he tested the weight and glorious feel of them. Reveled in the way her breath caught and how she closed her eyes, her expression dreamy.

  Lowering his head, he latched onto one impudent nipple and drew on her gently through the fine lawn. Olivia gasped and clutched at his head, burying her fingers in his hair.

  “Oh, yes, Hamish, yes,” she breathed.

  “We need to get rid of this,” he murmured between suckles, tugging at her chemise.

  “Gladly,” she whispered, echoing him. She shifted her weight to free the hem, and then Hamish dragged the garment off, revealing all of her beautiful curves. Her porcelain, almost translucent skin. The downy black curls between her thighs.

  Lust—hot, hard, and demanding—tore through his veins. Only just suppressing a coarse word of heartfelt appreciation, Hamish swallowed, and then he coaxed her slender legs apart. “Lie back for me, mo chridhe.”

  “But you haven’t taken off your breeches yet,” she said with a pretty pout.

  “Shh,” he said with a wolfish grin, pushing her down onto the mattress with gentle hands. “All in good time. I’m about to have my cake and eat it too.”

  Dropping to his knees, Hamish hooked Olivia’s legs over his bare shoulders, then diligently applied himself to devouring her delicious quim. He lapped, he suckled, and he savored Olivia’s sweet nectar. Mercilessly tortured that little pearl-hard nub where her feminine pleasure was centered with tiny flicks and fluttering licks of his tongue until she was panting and writhing and arching off the mattress. Pulling his hair and calling his name.

  When she at last tumbled into ecstasy, he rose to his feet and stripped off his breeches, then joined her on the bed. She immediately reached for him, trailing her fingertips up his engorged shaft. He sucked in a breath, and his belly contracted as she traced along a pulsating vein and explored his cock’s shiny head—the ridged edge and tiny indentation on the underside. He was content to let her play until she leaned down, intending to take him in her mouth.

  He hissed and caught her chin, lifting her head. “Not now, lass,” he grated out. “I’ll not last, and I want to spend inside you.”

  “You do?” she whispered, her eyes alight with delighted surprise.

  “Aye.” Hamish skimmed his hand across her lushly rounded hip and gently cupped her mound. The dark, feathery curls were soft beneath his fingers. “Our hearts are wed, so we’ll do this the way it should be done when a man beds his wife for the very first time,” he said gravely. This moment was important, and he wanted Olivia to understand he was sincere. “I won’t use a sheath, and I won’t withdraw. And if I plant a bairn in here”—he leaned forward and kissed the smooth-as-cream plane of her belly—“I’ll be happy for it.” Looking up, he captured her gaze again. “And if our child takes after you even just a wee bit, I’ll be a blessed man indeed.”

  “Oh, my love.” Olivia touched his cheek. “You say the most beautiful things.”

  * * *

  * * *

  So . . .” Hamish began to stroke the damp, warm crease between her folds. “Are you ready for me, mo chridhe?”

  Biting her lip, Olivia nodded. Her belly had knotted with nerves. “Yes. I mean, as ready as I’ll ever b-be.” Sophie and Arabella had both mentioned that there’d been some degree of discomfort during sexual congress the very first time. But she knew Hamish was an experienced and skilled lover, and she believed he would make this pleasurable for her.

  “Good.” He rose over her and kissed her slowly and deeply with a tenderness that made her heart ache. Teased and taunted her breasts with decadent swirling licks and hot, toe-curling suckles. And then he found her slick passage and pushed one of his long, wicked fingers inside her, stroking gently. At the same time, his thumb rubbed in tiny, teasing circles over her sensitive bud at the apex of her sex.

  Despite the gathering pleasure, Olivia’s inner muscles clenched, and she dug her fingers into Hamish’s wide shoulders.

  “I know this intrusion will feel odd, even uncomfortable at first,” he murmured as he pressed another finger inside her, “but it will help if you try to relax. I’ll be as gentle as I can when I enter you.”

  She nodded. “I trust you, Hamish,” she whispered. “And even if it hurts, I won’t mind.”

  By degrees, the tension began to ebb away from Olivia’s body. When a tiny thrill sparked and she began to undulate against Hamish’s hand, eager for more, he nudged her knees apart and settled between her legs. His erection was hot and hard against her inner thigh.

  “Oh, my love. My sweet Olivia. I can’t wait to be inside you.” Hamish’s breathing was unsteady as he withdrew his fingers, then braced himself on one elbow. Hovering over her, he gripped his shaft in one hand and then positioned the broad, velvet-smooth head of his member against her virginal entrance. All at once he pressed forward, and Olivia bit her lip to suppress a whimper. Her whole body stiffened, and her fingernails marked his back. The burning sting of his entry took her own breath away.

  “I’m sorry, my heart.” Hamish’s voice was low and ragged at the edges, as if this act of love pained him too. “But the worst will be over soon.” He surged forward, claiming her body in a series of forceful, unrelenting plunges until he was sheathed to the hilt.

  “It’s done, my brave lass,” he whispered, lowering his forehead to hers. “We are one. You’re mine.”

  “Always and forever,” she whispered, and grasped the back of his head, urging him to kiss her. The brush of his breath, the slide of his firm lips, the gentle caress of his tongue helped to take her mind off the fact that her most intimate flesh had been invaded. Filled and stretched in a way she never could have imagined. This joining of their bodies was strange and overwhelming yet exhilarating at the same time.

  His mouth still fastened to hers, Hamish began to move, retreating and then gliding back into her, again and again, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Very soon, and much to Olivia’s surprise, pleasurable sensations replaced the pain. Each time Hamish slid in and then withdrew, his hot, hard length seemed to rub against some special place deep inside her, eliciting tremors of excitement. And then she began to move, too, lifting her hips to meet his, suddenly driven by a desperate need to find the overwhelming satisfaction she sensed that only this man could give her.

  The exquisite friction began to intensify, and Hamish, perhaps compelled by the same urgent hunger, increased the pace and force of his thrusts. He shifted, changing the angle of his penetration, and plunged deeper and faster and harder. Working in and out of her body like a man possessed.

  Olivia panted and gasped and clutched at Hamish’s sweat-slickened shoulders. Her breasts bounced, and her nipples grazed his chest. She could feel her orgasm drawing closer, rushing toward her, and her inner muscles began to quiver. But that blissful crest she sought was frustratingly just out of reach.

  Hamish’s breathing was harsh and rapid too. His gaze unfocused. But somehow he sensed she needed
something to push her over the edge. He reached between their bodies and thumbed her excruciatingly sensitive nub, rubbing circles over it in just the right way.

  “That’s it, Olivia,” Hamish rasped between frantic thrusts. “Come for me, lass. Come hard.”

  And then all at once Olivia found heaven.

  Her back arched and she cried out as euphoria engulfed her entire body. She was drowning in pure pleasure, oblivious to almost everything except the devastating sensations washing through her in great rippling waves.

  Through it all, Hamish kept pumping. But then he, too, froze, and a deep, shuddering groan spilled from his throat. Olivia opened her eyes and took joy in watching her husband climax. Reveled in the sight of his ruggedly handsome face contorting in agonized ecstasy. Smiled when he swore beneath his breath. She could feel him jerking and pulsing inside her. The hot rush of his seed.

  Her heart swelled, and tears of unadulterated happiness slipped from her eyes as Hamish collapsed, chest heaving, his head resting on the mattress beside hers. Her hands came up to embrace him; her fingers sifted through the thick, damp locks at his nape, then traced over the trembling muscles and taut sinews of his sleek back. He was heavy, but she didn’t mind at all. Not when she felt so replete and completely cherished. If this was all a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

  “I love you, Hamish,” she whispered against his temple. Other declarations of undying devotion trembled on the tip of her tongue, but then she realized they didn’t need to be said. Because this moment was perfect just the way it was.

  He raised his head. “And I love you, Olivia,” he said huskily, sincerity shining in his gaze, “with everything that I am or ever will be. My heart, such that it is, is yours and yours alone. Forever.” The corner of his wide mouth suddenly kicked up into a lopsided grin. “God above, it feels so good to say that.”