Autumn Rain

by Anita Mills

  He bent his head to her breast, touching the nipple with his tongue. Her hands twined eagerly in his hair, tugging at it, opening and closing restlessly, as she squirmed beneath him. As his lips moved upward and his breath caressed her flesh, she arched her neck, giving him access to the sensitive hollow of her throat. Her skin was hot, feverish almost, and still he wanted to prolong the moment, to look into amber eyes made dark with desire. This time, she did not hide from him.

  "Make me whole, Luce," she whispered. "Make me whole again."

  She moaned and her whole body quivered when he entered her, and then she began to move beneath him, and he forgot everything but the feel of her. He gave himself over to the rhythm, moving, riding, losing himself in what he did to her, until he could wait no longer, and he had to let himself go. Her nails dug into his back, her breath came in great gasps, and her animal cries ended in one long, ecstatic, primordial moan.

  "I love you, Nell—I always have," he gasped, collapsing over her.

  She lay there, her arms wrapped around him, savoring the completeness of the union between them. Unlike so many things, it had been even better than the memory. Finally, he rolled off her and reached over the side of the bed to fumble among his discarded clothes. When he turned back, he laid a folded paper over her breast.

  "Whatever-?"

  "Read it," he urged, smiling.

  She opened it carefully and saw the archbishop's seal and signature. Her eyes widened. "It's a Special License."

  He nodded. "I want the right to lie with you tonight and every night after, Nell. I want the next babe—and all the rest of them to have my name." His dark eyes met hers and he sobered. "But I'm not like Kingsley. I don't want to make you do anything that you don't wish." When she looked as though she might cry, he hastened to add, "I cannot give you Almack's—or promise you social success. But I do love you—and I've got my own fortune."

  "As if any of that mattered," she whispered, her throat constricting. "I should be proud to be your wife, Luce."

  He leaned over to kiss her, this time quite gently, then rolled to sit. "Come on—you'd best get dressed. I told Thurstan to wait for us until five o'clock. I told him if we weren't there then, you wouldn't have me."

  "Luce, all I have is my riding habit," she protested. "I ought—besides, it's raining."

  "It doesn't matter to me. You are quite beautiful in anything. And I have brought the carriage." He grinned almost boyishly and reached for her hand, drawing her up from the bed. "Tonight I'd sleep with you at Stoneleigh, then tomorrow I'd take you and Elizabeth to Italy. And when we come back, you can move everything to the Park." He began dressing hurriedly, then stopped to reach again into his coat. "I almost forgot—I hope this fits." He took her hand again, this time to slip a band of emeralds onto her finger. "Do you like it, Nell?"

  "It's beautiful, Luce." She hesitated, then blurted out, "But does it have to be Italy?"

  "Nell, we'll go anywhere you wish—India even, if you fancy it."

  She looked about the small room, then smiled up at him. "No," she said softly, "I should like to come back here, I think."

  "Anything you want, Lady Longford—anything you want," he promised her.

  Lady Longford. After seven years of longing, she was going to have everything she'd ever wished for. Even his name.