He laughed. “You told me. You said you thought you were in love." He nuzzled her ear. “It was the most remarkable thing I'd ever heard."
Maggie cocked her head and grinned. "If I'd known, I would've said it a lot sooner."
"How much sooner?" He quirked a brow questioningly.
She sighed, resigning herself to complete surrender. "I've known since the night in the library. The one you and I and Shakespeare spent together."
He grinned wickedly. "I gather the technique is still effective then."
“Adam!” She tried to smack him with her fan but he deftly deflected the blow and responded by thoroughly kissing her. She melted against him, any further resistance dissolving on the night air.
"So," Maggie said, and drew a shaky breath when breathing was again possible. “When did you know?"
"Know what?”
"Know you loved me."
He gazed down at her with an expression that set her pulse pounding. “When I could not stay out of an unconscious woman's bedroom, I wondered. When I discovered a new passion in words I knew by heart, I suspected. But when I held you in my arms and found a world I never dreamed possible, I knew.” His eyes filled with such tenderness Maggie's senses reeled with the impact. She pulled his head down to meet hers and her lips met his again, gently at first, until greed heightened their demand.
Abruptly she drew back.
"Just tell me one more thing." She hesitated to ask but she had to know. "It's none of my business, really. And you can tell me so, but given your past, rather active love life and the whole Shakespeare business . . ." She paused, held her breath, and blurted the question. "How many other women have you said ‘I love you’ to?"
His eyes widened and his forehead furrowed in obvious surprise. “Why, none.”
"Great." Relief filled her and she grinned. Could her heart really burst from such joy or did it only seem so at this incredible moment? She flung her arms around his neck and slanted him her most enticing glance. "Then take me home, Coleridge."
***
From his vantage point in a shadowed doorway he observed the tender scene and permitted himself a small smile. His assumptions were correct after all. In recent days, he had wondered if he wasn't mistaken about Ridgewood and the Masterson woman. If perhaps her outspoken ways and independent manner were distasteful to the cold, aloof earl. Now he could see he was right from the beginning, from the moment he first saw them together. This was what he had waited for, what he had planned for. Ridgewood loved this woman.
It was time.
Chapter Fifteen
Adam bounded out of the carriage before the steps were let own. Maggie breathed an unsteady sigh of relief at their arrival home. Locked in Adam's arms, the ride wasn't long but it seemed filled with anticipation and a fair amount of tension. Her head had nestled on his chest, his heart throbbing beneath her ear. Now that they had declared their love, everything should be perfect. So why was she unsure and hesitant, nervous and apprehensive?
Impatiently she tried to smother the feelings. It wasn’t as if they hadn't already made love. As if tonight would be their first time. Still, as she reached out her hand for his assistance, it trembled.
Adam turned and her doubts vanished at the love and desire in his eyes. He pulled her into his arms and carried her toward the door.
"Adam!" She laughed.
"Shut up, Maggie." He grinned. At the base of the steps he stopped and captured her gaze with his. "I want this night to be perfect."
Her breath caught in her throat. "It already is," she whispered.
He lightly kissed her forehead and strode up the steps. The door opened soundlessly and he carried her inside, nodding to a well-trained Wilson, who gave no indication it was at all out of the ordinary for the master to carry women into the house.
"Sprained ankle, Wilson," Adam muttered curtly.
"No doubt, milord." Wilson's composure remained unruffled. Only the gleam in his eye suggested he thought otherwise.
Maggie giggled and hid her face in Adam's jacket. Even with her in his arms, Adam took the stairs easily and continued down the hall to her room. Pushing open the door, he deposited her gently on her bed.
“Why, Adam Coleridge." She laughed up at him. "What about the servants? Is it proper and correct for you to be in here like this with me?"
Adam's expression grew thoughtful. "No, Maggie, you're right. It is most certainly not proper behavior." He turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
For a moment Maggie was too stunned to move. What was that all about? Who cared about proper behavior? Certainly not her. She leapt off the bed and raced after him. Grabbing the brass pull, she yanked. A noise sounded behind her and she whirled around. Adam leaned lazily against a doorway on the far side of the room. A door that, up till now, she'd assumed was some kind of closet.
"What's in there?" She gasped.
"My chamber." A grin stretched across his face. His dimple flashed seductively and a wicked gleam settled in his eyes. He sauntered toward her.
She widened her eyes at his approach. "You mean to tell me all this time you've been right next door?"
"Um—hmm." He kept coming.
"My room is connected to yours?"
"That's correct." He hesitated, the grin changing to a puzzled frown. “That upsets you?"
"Yeah, I’m upset. I'm very upset." She tried to keep her voice as serious as possible. "That we've wasted a hell of a lot of time." She gave him an enticing glance and he grinned back, picking her up once more and carrying her into his room.
Wrapped in anticipation, she barely registered the room. She noted a fleeting impression of deep burgundy drapes and bed hangings, of heavy carved furniture, massive and dark. Adam set her on her feet and took her firmly into his arms. His eyes bored into hers and any doubts vanished at the love revealed there.
Gently his lips descended on hers. Slowly her mouth opened beneath his, and she sighed as his tongue slipped inside. He traced the inner edge of her mouth, the erotic exploration suspending time. He drew back and Maggie's wobbly knees threatened to turn to mush. It took all her concentration to remain standing. She’d never been kissed like that before.
"Wow."
"Be quiet, Maggie," he growled softly.
"Okay." The agreement was little more than a sigh. She tilted her lips toward his but he ignored them, turning his attention instead to the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. Her head fell back and she moaned at the heat of his lips and the skill of his touch. His hands cupped her shoulders and he skillfully swung her around. Her world narrowed to the confines of his hands, his breath, his scent; her head rolled limply forward. His lips glided along her neck, circling from front to back, featherlike kisses that teased at the top of her spine.
Almost imperceptibly, his tongue trailed the ridge of her shoulder, stopped only by the sleeve of her gown. He pushed the silken fabric off her shoulder and nibbled at the exposed flesh. His every move was agonizingly slow and Maggie quivered. She quelled the impulse to submit to the throbbing building within her and savored the sensations heightened by the subtle self-denial and Adam's expertise.
He popped open the buttons of her gown, one by one releasing the pressure of her bodice. He slid the dress down until it rested at her waist, then pulled her tight against his chest. Wrapped in a sensual fog she noted dully he was still fully dressed. The feel of her naked back against his clothed chest . . . wicked and erotic. His hands slid around her waist and up to cup her breasts. Knowledgeable fingers played and teased the hardened, sensitive tips until she moaned and melted against him.
He dropped his hands and pushed the gown down past her knees, catching all she wore underneath along with it, to puddle at her feet. The sinful caress of a faint draft on her naked body whispered over her and she ached for the press of his frame to hers. The feel of Adam fully clothed behind her excited and aroused her. Gently he turned her to face him. Far too lost to be embarrass
ed, she stood before him. Tremors of desire coursed through her at the stark need in his eyes.
He scooped her into his arms and placed her on the bed. His clothes quickly fell to the floor and her gaze followed his every movement. The glow from the fireplace glinted off his golden hair, highlighted the planes and angles of his muscled body, reflected the smoldering depths of his eyes.
He lay beside her and she moved into his embrace, into his heat, her lips meeting his. She opened her mouth and darted her tongue into his mouth. Quick. Demanding. Hungry. He countered with a leisurely, almost lazy exploration that left her trembling and urgently needing more. She arched closer, twining her hands in the silk of his hair, desperate for his flesh against hers, yearning for the feel of his long, hard length.
He refused to be hurried in his controlled, measured dance of discovery. Refused to quicken the pace of his languid, sweet torture. Refused to give in to the insistent, pounding rhythms escalating inside her. He trailed a hand down her body, a whisper across her inflamed skin, a secret caress on her stomach. She shivered with delicious anticipation. His hand drifted lower, finding the curls at the juncture of her thighs. Her legs fell open. Powerful, knowing fingers skillfully sought out the essence of her womanhood and she moaned at the exquisite, mindless ecstasy he drove her to. A coiled spring wound tighter deep inside her, the tension heightening, the need unbearable.
Adam sensed her increasing excitement. His body responded to her demands but he refused to surrender to her. Yet. He would not allow himself to succumb to the skin flushed with overripe desire, the full, firm breasts heaving with each impassioned gasp, the intoxicating body straining toward him. He wanted their love to be more than she had ever known. More than she had ever dreamed. More than she had ever desired. He wanted to mark her as his forever. She whimpered beneath him, convulsively gripping his shoulders and pulling him tighter to her. Adam groaned, and finally he, too, could take no more of the delectable, maddening torture.
He positioned himself above her, his eyes, dark as night, smoldering with passion. With a joyous cry she arched to meet his downward stroke. Singed by his heat, scared by her desire, she welcomed him to her body and her very soul. They moved together with an instinct born of another time, nurtured in another age. Matching thrust to thrust, movement to movement, one body in perfect, sizzling harmony with the other. Faster and higher they danced, straining as if the sheer force of their frantic desire would discover worlds of passion never dreamed of. This one woman made for this one man.
They poised at the brink of madness for a moment or a lifetime until ultimately together they plunged into an eruption of pleasure. His body shook against hers, hers quaked convulsively, and they clung to each other as if life itself were at stake.
And for that one explosive moment, time stood still.
Time.
Their enemy and their master. For this one single second, defeated. No matter how brief, regardless of how fleeting, the memory of this moment, the triumph of this love would stay with them through all time, filling their yesterdays, coloring their tomorrows.
Forever.
***
She lay in the massive bed, one hand tucked under her chin, resembling a classical statue, peaceful and serene. Adam chuckled silently at the image. Of all the things he could say about "his Maggie," peaceful and serene would not be among them.
His Maggie.
As much as he liked the sound of that, he'd better never let her know he thought of her as his Maggie. It would no doubt launch her into a speech about not being anyone's property and how she wasn't from this time and did not expect to be treated as if she were, closing with declarations of freedom and independence. He grinned at her sleeping form. He could accept that. Difficult as it was to endure at times, her spirit and insistence of what she considered her rights were among the things he loved about her.
Surprised, he realized he also loved sleeping through the night with her cuddled beside him, and waking to find her still there. There would be no separate bedrooms in this marriage. Adam wanted to spend the rest of his life with her by his side like this. They had much to talk about.
He leaned over and nibbled her ear. "Maggie, my love. Wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open. She stretched luxuriously, slanting him a lazy, sensuous smile. "You were right. Last night was . . . perfect."
He grinned and brushed her lips with his. "I know." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, turning his light kiss into something far more satisfying.
“Maggie." He groaned. “I must get dressed. I cut short matters dealing with the estates yesterday to rush back to town last night. I must return today."
Disappointment shone in her eyes. "When will you be back?"
"Tonight." He raised her hand and brushed a kiss along her palm. "Will you wait up for me?"
She seemed to consider his request thoughtfully, then gave him a teasing smile. "I think I can arrange that.”
"You'd better," Adam growled and kissed her thoroughly. He pulled away and noted her eyes darken. His own desire rose and he pushed the thought from his mind, staunchly but reluctantly. He had to take care of this estate problem. Then he could devote himself fully to her.
He flung back the bedclothes, lifted her into his arms, and carried her out of his room and into hers.
"What are you doing?" she said, clutching a sheet to her naked form. Adam dropped her abruptly on the bed and she bounced awkwardly. He sat down beside her and cupped her chin in his hand, gazing firmly into her stormy green eyes.
"You brought up the question of servants last night. And you were right. Finding you in my bed without benefit of marriage would destroy your reputation." His look softened. ‘'I do not want you hurt."
"Adam." She laughed. “I don't care about my reputation. I can take care of myself."
He smiled in resignation. "I know. But just this once do as I ask."
“Okay." She sighed and threw herself back on the pillows. "You'll definitely be home tonight?"
“Definitely."
"I'll wait for you in, oh, say, the library?" She gazed at him innocently.
He matched it with a wicked look of his own. "One of my favorite rooms."
“Mine, too." Her eyes were a remarkably deep forest color and he regretted his inability to respond to the depth of her arousal until his return. “Mine, too."
***
Lydia allowed herself a congratulatory smile. The day had gone exceedingly well. Far better than she had hoped. She did not even have to lure Maggie to the library. Maggie went on her own. Odd for her to venture into Adam's domain when she had obviously been avoiding him for days.
But then Maggie's behavior today, overall, had been extremely unusual. She'd slept quite late, then stayed in her room most of the day, taking a long bath during the afternoon hours. The scandalized servants were still exchanging shocked comments over Maggie's request for a razor. To shave her legs, of all things, according to the gossip. The idea intrigued Lydia and she vowed to try it herself at the first opportunity.
Now Maggie sat curled up on the library sofa with a book, and Lydia reasonably assumed she would stay there for a while. A servant sent from the country by Adam arrived hours ago with a message from her brother. He would be home by midnight. The timing could not have been better.
The hall clock chimed the hour. Ten o'clock. Connor’s men should be waiting by now. Most of the servants had already retired for the evening. Even so, Lydia crept furtively to the rear door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. She stepped outside quickly, her gaze scanning the dim, deep shadows.
Nothing.
There was no one there.
Vexed, Lydia took a few more steps and looked for any sign of Connor's men.
"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath. "Just like him. Not only is he always late but his men are late, too." She peered once more around the unmoving shapes and vague, indistinct outlines taking on sinister proportions in the pale moonlight.
>
Lydia shivered and stepped back inside, determined to wait as long as it took for Connor's men to appear. She did not doubt they would come. Connor had never failed her before. He would not fail her now.
***
On the fourth or perhaps the fifth time she ventured outside Lydia found Connor's men. It was now nearing eleven o'clock. She finally spotted two figures hovering near a wagon in the alley near the mews, beyond the end of the garden. Indignantly she strode toward them.
"It's about time," she said. The couple froze at her approach. "I suppose Connor gave you the wrong time?"
The men stared first at each other, then at Lydia.
"How's that, milady?" The cautious query came from the direction of the shorter of the two shadowy figures.
"It scarce matters now." Lydia sighed and drew closer. Her gaze swept the men in an assessing manner and she nodded with admiration. "I must say, though, you two have certainly dressed the part. I did not expect Connor to get into the spirit of this evening and I think it's quite charming of him to humor me this way. You will serve extremely well."
They appeared wonderfully sinister. The short one inclined toward excess poundage. The other was several inches taller but every bit as wide as his companion. Both wore shabby, apparently cast-off clothing. Lydia sniffed delicately. There seemed to be a distinct odor lingering about them. They were perfect. She beamed at the men. If only they'd get that baffled look off their faces. Oh, well, intelligence was perhaps a little too much to hope for.
"Now that you're here, follow me." Lydia tossed the words over her shoulder and walked to the door. The men traded glances, shrugged, and followed. "I shall go over this once again with you. Did Connor give you all the details?"
"No, milady." This time the answer came from the larger of the pair.
"I suspected as much. Very well." She halted just outside the door, turned, and stepped behind a large shrub. The men exchanged confused looks and jumped when Lydia reappeared.
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