Someone, and Diana assumed that it was most likely his valet, had laid a fire in the hearth which was crackling merrily, casting long shadows on the wall, ones that danced and mingled with the smaller shadows created by the candles. She quickly realized they were not as alone as Lachlan most likely thought, but she prayed that his staff was both discreet and loyal. Then he sucked hard at the hollow of her throat and she forgot all about the servants and anything other than the feel of his mouth on her body, hot and demanding.
"I need you, my lovely Diana." Lachlan's voice was rough now, almost broken, as if something inside of him was shifting. He pulled back to look at her, his handsome face cast in the half-light, shadows making him appear like an avenging angel sent from above. He was the complex man she had assumed him to be at first, but that now seemed like a lifetime ago. Now she knew that he was more than that. So very much more.
"And I need you, Lachlan. My beloved marquess." Diana smiled coyly up at him and reached out to trail a hand down his chest. "But you are so much more to me than that. You are the man that I need. The one I want to introduce me to the ways of pleasure. You, Lachlan. And no one else. Never anyone else."
It was as if her words gave him permission to fully unleash his desire. With a growl, he pulled her to him, rougher this time and far more demanding. He stripped off his gloves and allowed his bare hands to caress her arms, making her shiver at the first hint of skin on skin contact. With each stroke of his hot hands over her body, she nearly melted before him, her body becoming more pliant and soft than he could have even hoped for.
When he turned her around to undo the laces on the back of her gown, she held up her thickly twisted hair, clearly eager to help him in his task. Between his legs, his manhood pounded with need, but he forced himself to draw in a deep breath and regain control of himself. He had been hard and aching with desire for several days now, the mere thought of Diana enough to make him want to take a long swim in one of the frigid lochs back home.
Not tonight, however. Tonight, she was warm and willing and in his bedchamber. He could ask for nothing more. In his heart, he knew he would be selfish if he did.
Then, before he realized it, the laces of her gown were undone and the scarlet silk feel away, revealing the smooth, satiny curve of her back, the creamy skin of her shoulders and lower, just beneath her corset, the delightful hollow of her lower back. Lachlan loved everything about a woman's body, from her head to her toes, but among his most favorite of parts was a lady's back. There was simply something sensual about the curve of skin over spine, the supple line of the delicate bones beneath that made him want to kiss and taste the flesh there until the lady whimpered with a need that matched his own.
He saw no reason to deny himself now, not with Diana.
The first kiss on Diana's bare back shocked her so badly that she almost leapt away from Lachlan. It had only been a few weeks, if that, since she had been kissed on the lips for the very first time. Less than that since Lachlan had suckled at her breasts in Vauxhall. To have a man so intimately caress the sensitive skin of her back was something she had not anticipated. But she found that she rather adored it.
Every place he kissed with his firm lips, his strong, sure hands followed the same path. Up the sweep of her back and then down, tugging and pulling at her corset until it fell away. She had not worn a chemise that evening, thinking that it would be a bit more scandalous to go without. Now she was glad she had not worn the scrap of fabric, thin though it was. For once the corset was peeled away, there was nothing between her bare skin and Lachlan's divine caresses. Over and over his hands swept up her body, tracing the line of her spine, his fingers spanning wide over her shoulder blades, before dipping back down to where his tongue danced in the indent at the small of her back.
Diana clutched her gown to her breasts in modesty, only her back bared to the man now worshiping her body, but with each firm glide of his hand, she found that her legs were growing weak and she struggled to stand. When she reached out to grasp on to the bedpost for support, the scarlet silk slid from her hands to pool at her feet, baring her breasts. She was certain that Lachlan noticed.
Dear God, she was lovely. In the soft light of the room, Lachlan could now finally see what he had only had glimpses of before - Diana's lush, succulent breasts, perfectly shadowed in candlelight. They were utterly and completely perfect, at least in his opinion. And at the moment, his was the only opinion that mattered.
Unable - and more importantly, unwilling - to stop himself, he pulled Diana back against him, cupping her breasts in his large hands, testing the weight of them and finding them a perfect fit. "Diana. Love. You are perfect."
With his front against her back, he knew that she could feel his erection more fully, but he did not care. Soon enough, she would see all of him. She would feel all of him. Inside of her. Where he so longed to be.
As he teased her nipples into tight points, he nibbled upon her shoulder, raking the soft flesh with his teeth, marking her as his. Then his hands were roaming her body, caressing her rib cage and teasing the sides of her breasts until she began to squirm beneath him.
Diana felt as if her body was bursting into flame, the heat of Lachlan seeping into her very bones, making her arch back against him like a wanton, pressing her body into his, that same aching need from the night at Vauxhall beginning to grow inside of her.
Twisting around, she rose up on her toes for a kiss, being bold for once and darting her tongue out to tangle with his, not bothering to wait for an invitation. She had waited long enough. She had been waiting since the moment she had left the schoolroom and been presented at court. She might not have known whom she was waiting for, but she knew it was not Hathaway.
No, she had been waiting for this man, this half-Scottish marquess who made her feel things far more deeply than any other man ever had. Now she was here, in his bedchamber, and she was tired of waiting. She wanted all of him. More than that, she wanted to see him. Just as he saw her.
Spinning out of his grasp, Diana stepped fully out of her gown so that save for her slippers and the single ruby pendant around her neck, she was naked before Lachlan. She knew her brazen move must have slightly shocked him for he drew in a deep breath, his eyes not knowing where to rest as he drank in the sight of her naked body.
"I want you, Lachlan," she sighed before closing her eyes a moment. This was not her. This was another, far more brazen woman. But she craved the man in front of her so much that she would do anything to have him inside of her. Between her legs, she ached, so much so that it was beginning to hurt. She had no idea how to ease this pain, but he did. She knew he did.
"Diana, I..." Words failed him. What could he say with the woman of his dreams standing in front of him, naked and offering him a piece of Heaven? This was why they had come here, after all. Because of Lachlan's jealousy that had burned so brightly at the ball, the pounding need to claim Diana as his, so powerful that he could not leash his desire no matter how hard he tried. But now, with her offering herself to him, he found that he could not take her.
Lachlan did not bed virgins. To bed a virgin was to admit that one was in love. That was what he had always believed. Or some such nonsense, anyway. And Diana was clearly a virgin. He knew by the way she kissed, the way she responded to his touch. Even now, standing before him as she offered him her body, there was still a shyness about her, an innocence that a woman of experience could not falsify.
It nearly broke him.
Lovely, wonderful, perfect Diana was giving him all of her. More than that, she was giving him her love. She hadn't said the words. She hadn't needed to. He could see the emotion shining in her eyes like a beacon. So good and kind. So perfect of a woman. One he did not deserve for he could not return her love. Not the way she deserved.
However as Lachlan had learned long ago, he was a selfish man and he wanted her. He wanted her beside him - forever - more than anything he had ever wanted for himself. And he was selfish enough to
take all that she was offering. And more. He would take her love, even if he wasn't certain he could ever return it. But in that moment, he wanted to try. In that moment, he knew that if he could ever bring himself to love anyone - truly love them enough to give away his heart - it would be to her. It was not a perfect offering and he knew it well, but for the moment, it was all that he was capable of giving her. He prayed that it would be enough.
Miraculously, it was.
"Take off your clothes, Lachlan." In general, Diana did not command. She was too refined of a lady to take complete charge of most situations. Normally, that was. Here in his bedchamber, however? It seemed that she fit the role of commander rather perfectly. And he could not believe how much that absolutely thrilled him. "I want to see you. Just as you see me."
"As my lady wishes." Lachlan knew he could deny her nothing. If Diana wished to see him nude, then he was more than willing to comply.
Knowing that his valet would be furious, but not caring in the least, Lachlan stripped off his topcoat, followed quickly by his waistcoat, to lay in a black puddle of cloth beside him. When he reached up to undo his cravat, he heard Diana suck in a breath, clearly not as worldly as she wished him to believe. His heart lurched in his chest but he kept his eyes fixed on hers, unwilling to break the connection they shared. It was as if she was peering directly into his soul and he into hers.
When he finally shed his shirt, gloves and boots so that he stood before her clad in nothing more than his breeches, both of them were breathing hard. Though he did not know if it was more from anticipation or from desire. Her high, firm breasts were quivering, their rosy tips perfect for suckling. Her hips were gently rounded and he longed to slide his hands over her smooth flesh. He wanted to reach for her but he held himself back. Once he undid his breeches, there was no going back. They would forever cross a threshold that he could not undo.
"Last chance, love," Lachlan whispered, his voice so soft that he had to strain to hear himself. "Once I take these off..." He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "Diana, I..." His words tumbled and twisted as he tried to speak, uncertain now of what he meant to say, only that he needed her to know that once they were naked, he would not stop until he was inside of her. He did not think himself capable of such control.
Around them, the room seemed to breathe in, as if waiting for her to speak. The dim, flickering light of the fire danced along the ivory hued walls, the light of the candles being sucked into the darkness created by the heavy, masculine furniture that dotted the room. Behind him, a breeze blew in from somewhere, making the sheer bed curtains dance. There was no sound other than their combined breathing, the heavier velvet curtains on the windows closed, blocking out the night and its own peculiar brand of music. In this moment, it was only them. Lachlan and Diana. Waiting. Hoping. Needing.
"Take them off." With those three little words, it was as if Diana had shattered the silence with a scream, they echoed so loudly through the room, though her voice was barely above a whisper. She raised her chin defiantly, almost daring him to change his mind.
He could not. He wanted her too much.
With each button he undid, it was as if the room let out the breath it had been holding. As the heavy fabric slid down his muscular thighs, another, much different anticipation grew. Diana kept her eyes fastened on Lachlan's, not daring to look. She had come this far, it seemed, but was afraid to go farther.
"You can look, lass. It will be alright. I promise."
With those words, Lachlan gave Diana the permission she had been seeking without realizing it. Slowly, she allowed her gaze to follow the strong column of his throat and down across his broad, muscular chest. She had never seen a naked man before and she drank in the sight of him, of the dark whorls of hair that dusted his chest. At his flat male nipples that were so different and yet so similar to her own. Her gaze traveled lower still, down across his abdomen to his waist and the thin arrow of hair that led lower. Slowly releasing a breath she did not know she had been holding, she allowed her gaze to drift further, this time taking in all of him, including that very hard and extremely male part of him that had been pressing into her each time they touched.
In a word, he was magnificent.
Diana had no idea how large a man should be between his legs, but she did not believe that most men were as blessed as Lachlan was. At least not if Patience was to be believed. Slowly, she approached him and without asking permission, she reached out to stroke him, marveling at the feel of his manhood, both silky soft and yet so very hard at the same time.
Looking down at her, she could see that Lachlan had clenched his teeth, almost as if he was in pain. "Am I hurting you?" She did not understand how she could be but the expression on his face indicated otherwise.
"Not in the way ye think, lass." For the first time since they had met, Diana heard Lachlan speak as she was certain he did back home in the Highlands. All of the cultured English tones that normally laced his speech were stripped bare, leaving only his deep Scottish brogue. This was Lachlan - the true man and not the complex creation she had come to know so well. Somehow, at her touch, all of that had been stripped away, leaving only the man beneath. She was, to put it simply, in awe.
Her hand still wrapped around him, she leaned up to kiss him once more and he met her half way, their mouths open and their tongues tangling before either of them could draw another breath.
"I want you," she whispered urgently. "Now."
Lachlan needed no further urging. He swept Diana up into his arms and whisked her to his bed, placing her down upon the counterpane with such reverence that she wanted to weep. Then he was beside her, the heavy weight of him rolling her towards him and then - finally, blessedly - beneath him.
He kissed her again, this time far more hungrily than before, his hands sweeping over her body, teasing her flesh and inciting that ache within her to flare to life again. While she had been exploring the contours of his body, it had lessened a bit - still there but not pulsing with quite the same agonizing urgency as it had before. Now it was back, more urgent than before. So powerful that she whimpered, unable to keep from shifting her body restlessly beneath him, her hips seeking his. Her body instinctively knowing what her mind could not yet process.
"Soon, love. Soon," Lachlan whispered as he smoothed Diana's hair back, the pins that had held it in place long since scattered about the room. Her glorious, lovely golden-red locks fanned out on his pillow, and he could not help but think that this was precisely where she belonged. With him. Forever. Always.
With well-honed skill, he teased her to readiness, caressing not just her breasts but her entire body as well. He dipped a finger inside of her to test her wetness, beyond elated when he found her more than eager to accept him inside of her. He had wanted to take this first time slowly, to savor Diana as she deserved to be, but he found that he could not. He literally ached for her, his body so tightly wound that he thought he might expire of need before he found his release.
Diana felt as if her entire world was spinning out of control. As Lachlan skillfully teased her to greater heights of pleasure, she found her desire increasing as well. He touched and caressed parts of her body that she had never dared to touch herself. For while she was bold at times, she was not a doxy or a lightskirt. She did not indulge in such unseemly behaviors. Again, however, with Lachlan, the way he touched her did not feel wrong. In fact, she wanted him to keep stroking her passions for as long as he wished. He could do this every night for the rest of their lives and she would be content.
Then, he pressed the pad of his thumb to that most secret nub of pleasure while his fingers stroked her, driving her higher into the throes of passion. Higher and higher until her mind was spinning out of control. Then she shattered, just as she had that night at Vauxhall, but better somehow and far more intense. It was beyond pleasure into something she could not name and did not wish to. It was perfect.
Before she could think, Lachlan was settling himsel
f between her legs, the heavy weight of his body over hers pressing her down into the bed. She arched up into him, needing more, wanting to feel that blazing burst of pleasure again, her body still not sated. More. She needed more. And he was the only man who could give her what she most desired. The only man she desired.
"I'm sorry, Diana, my love," Lachlan whispered, feeling his heart lurch in his chest, but knowing that this intense emotion that threatened to overcome him could not be love. Rather, he decided that it must be the intensity of the knowledge that he was taking Diana's innocence. He had never done such a thing before, deflowered a virgin. And certainly he had never made love to anyone as precious to him as his lovely Diana. "Please forgive me, lass. I do not wish to hurt you, but it can be no other way."
Then he slid himself inside of her as deeply as he could. When he came to the barrier of her maidenhead, he pushed on even as she cried out and then tightened around him, her body unused to the intrusion of him inside of her, stretching to accommodate him, for he knew he was larger than most men. He hated that he was hurting her but he would make it up to her. Somehow. If only he could say the words.
Diana's world exploded in a flash of bright light when Lachlan slid himself inside of her, taking her innocence and introducing her to complete womanhood. It hurt. Or at least at first it did, but then as her body eased and adjusted, as she shifted her hips to better fit him inside of her, as she listened to the senseless words he was murmuring in her ear - words that sounded suspiciously like expressions of love - the stinging pain eased, only to be replaced by something she could only describe as wonderful.
At the first stroke, she thought he meant to leave her, her body crying out at the loss and she whimpered again, though she did not know why she did so. When he slid back inside of her body, this time deeper than before, she rejoiced, feeling a completeness she had not expected.
A Marquess Is Forever Page 25
