Helen Dickson

by When Marrying a Duke. . .

  ‘We have to meet with Canon Unwin later. You will find time for that?’

  ‘Do we have to? We know the procedure.’

  Max chuckled low in his chest. ‘Canon Unwin is a stickler for doing everything right. We have to convince him of our suitability.’

  ‘It is you I have to convince, not Canon Unwin.’

  A lazy smile touched Max’s lips and he curved a hand behind her head. ‘So, convince me,’ he murmured, bringing his mouth ever closer.

  Marietta’s hand slid inside his coat and glided up his chest in a devastatingly tantalising caress that made his muscles tense and his breath catch in his throat.

  ‘How long do you think it will take me to do that?’

  ‘About two seconds.’

  Capturing her lips, he proceeded to kiss her long and deep, leaving her breathless. She melted against him, the fire in her response igniting the flames deep within him. When he raised his head, he placed his arm around her shoulders in an intimate embrace and together they stood gazing wistfully across the lake to the distant hills. She felt the peace of the countryside. A sudden explosion of starlings lifted across the sky. The rain of the day before had left a freshness, a sweetness, a sparkle to the vista spread out before her, and the essence of it settled on her heart, finding a place there which she knew it would never leave.

  ‘Did the kiss cure you of your problems?’

  Marietta’s long curly lashes fluttered up and eyes like deep olive-green pools of languid wonder gazed into his. ‘Not really,’ she replied lightly, ‘but I suppose that’s to be expected when one is marrying a duke in a week from now. But—I am reminded of another kiss. At the risk of making you angry, if you don’t mind I would like to explain.’

  His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. ‘I remember.’

  ‘You should. You were furious as I recall. But—when I kissed you—I wanted to thank you, to show my gratitude. You were so kind to me at that time...’

  ‘And I misunderstood.’ His expression began to relax.

  ‘Yes, you did. I wanted to explain then, but I was upset and you were so angry with me.’

  Smiling softly, he tilted her face to his. ‘I’m sorry, Marietta. Truly, but what you have just told me does little for my ego. It’s the first time a woman wanted to kiss me out of kindness.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry,’ she teased, relieved that he understood her reasons for the kiss at last. ‘Heaven forbid I should do anything to damage your ego, but—well, that’s how it was.’

  Max smiled at her and Marietta could not help but smile back at him, that curiously attractive smile which lit her eyes to a brilliance. Her lips, which in repose were rosy pink, parted over her even teeth and the flush deepened in the soft curve of her cheek. He let his mind drift back to their meeting in Hong Kong when she had been so full of fun and daring. She had captivated him, dazzled him—baffled him. Marietta had something in her that he could not get hold of—a brilliance, a magical something that had made him unable to look away.

  There was also a strength of character in her he admired, an alertness which he had never seen before in a female. The ladies he knew were concerned with little more than fashion, marriage, children, the running of their households and their submission to their husbands. They lived in a world where they must conform to the strict code of conduct laid down by their mothers, but Marietta was different. Her mother had died when as a young girl she had needed her most, and she had been raised without guidance by a father who had been too wrapped up in his own nefarious affairs to concern himself overmuch with a growing daughter.

  ‘Do you hear from your friends, Marietta? Those who came to England?’

  ‘Yes. Oliver and Julian are at the university at Oxford—and Emma is in Switzerland. We correspond now and then. She’s due to return to Hong Kong very soon.’

  Max saw a wistful, faraway look enter her eyes as she scanned the horizon that hinted at her sense of loss. ‘Would you like to go back to the island?’

  ‘Yes—some time. I do miss it.’ On a sigh, with shining eyes she looked around her. ‘But this really is a beautiful place. I can’t believe it’s to be my home.’

  ‘You’d better believe it. I haven’t seen much of you. I’ve missed you.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.’ Her cheek nestled against his shoulder, her hand drifting over his chest in a gentle caress.

  ‘Just over a week from now it will be all over.’ He tilted her chin up. ‘Now you’re here and I have you to myself at last, show me how much you’ve been missing me.’

  Marietta knew he was going to kiss her again. Eagerly, she lifted her face and met him halfway. His mouth covered hers and caressed hers in a long, tender, undemanding kiss, and within moments Marietta felt all her pent-up tension begin to melt away in the heat of his passion. Even when the kiss deepened and her lips were being sensually shaped and moulded to his, she knew he would let her pull away if she tried. Instead her hands crept up his chest, twining round his neck, and everything changed.

  As he removed her hat, his fingers slid into her hair, loosening the pins and tangling in the luxuriant tresses. They tumbled over her shoulders in a glorious mass the colour of burnished copper beneath the sun’s rays, framing a face of heartbreaking beauty.

  Tenderly cupping her face between both his hands, Max gazed down into her melting green eyes. ‘My God, you are so sweet,’ he whispered.

  Marietta’s heart skipped a beat, then began to hammer as he slowly, deliberately covered her lips once more. He kissed her long and lingeringly slow, compelling kisses that made her head swim. He groaned and crushed her tighter to his chest, his mouth leaving hers and tracing its way across her cheek to explore her ear before returning to her lips again. She was jerked back to reality when she felt his hand cup her breast.

  ‘Don’t—Max, please... We mustn’t,’ she choked.

  ‘Why not?’ he said hoarsely, his long fingers sliding downwards and curving around her neck while his mesmerising silver-grey eyes gazed deeply into hers. As if the confessions were being tortured out of him, he said, ‘I’ve tried a thousand times to stay away from you until our wedding night, but having you here with me now makes it impossible.’

  While Marietta was reeling from that incredible statement, he again took her lips in an endless drugging kiss that stole her breath and stunned her into immobility. His lips moved against hers with tender, hungry yearning, tasting and fitting them to his own. Something deep and primitive within Marietta responded to it. Her lips softened and melted against his as jolt after jolt of wild sensations shot through her.

  Subtly increasing the pressure on her nape, he was inexorably drawing her down on to a seat. But in a sensual haze from his tongue teasing, exploring, Marietta had scarcely noticed the shift in position. Her senses swam. His kisses were deep, assaulting, yet soft, and he whispered gentle endearments against her lips. His fingers probed at the tiny buttons on her gown, deftly unfastening them, his hand slipping through, and before Marietta could react his long fingers had crept beneath her chemise and were leisurely exploring and caressing until his fingertip was deep in the hollow between her breasts. It stayed there, moving up and down, stroking the sides of her breasts, while tiny flames began shooting through Marietta’s body, making her breathing shallow and rapid.

  ‘Now tell me you don’t want me to touch you,’ he invited softly, his eyes holding hers imprisoned, his fingers teasing her hardening nipple. ‘Tell me what you feel, Marietta,’ he murmured against the sweet flesh of her cheek. ‘Does it feel good to you? Do you like my hands on your breast?’

  ‘Yes—yes, I do.’ Her voice was shy. ‘I—I had no idea it could feel so...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nice.’ Marietta felt her breast swelling to fill his hand, turning her head aside and staring fixedly at the lake, absolutely amazed at her inability to control her own treacherous body.

  ‘I’m glad I please you, but there is more, my love.’

&nb
sp; It was through these words that Marietta was brought back to reality. Pulling away from him, she struggled to sit up, forcing him to withdraw his hand from her breast. ‘Max, please don’t do this.’

  Startled by her reaction, Max started to reach for her again, but she sprang to her feet and shot off, halting by the edge of the lake, her face red, her breathing rapid, her fingers trembling as they hastily fastened the buttons on her bodice. Her blood thrummed warm beneath her cheeks, the skin stretched taut beneath her breasts where his fingers had been. Her pulse beat faster than a small bird’s heart. She heard Max come up behind her. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel the heat of his presence, and when he spoke his voice was cold.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, Marietta, but you act as if you’re frightened to death. Nothing is different from how it was before when I kissed you and I don’t recall you objecting then. What is it—offended modesty? If so, I will tell you now that as my wife, kissing me is something you will have to get used to.’ Marietta slowly turned to face him. He watched her as she started to speak, changed her mind and bit on her lip. ‘What is it?’ he prompted, gentling his voice.

  In her nervousness she hastily gathered her hair together and shoved the pins back in before replacing her hat. Looking up, she caught Max’s eye as he watched her. There was a strange expression on his face, sad, she thought, brooding, as though he were looking at another woman whose passing had left a hole in his life that had never been filled. Why did he never speak of Nadine? Was the pain he felt still too raw? He must have loved her very much if he couldn’t bear to speak of her. Swamped with a terrible hurt that he would never be able to love her as much as he had loved his first wife, her eyes were large and luminous as they worriedly searched his face. She drew a long, unsteady breath.

  Pride and courage showed in every feature of her face, from her high cheekbones and stubborn little nose, to her small chin. And yet her mouth was vulnerable and soft, as soft as her breasts, which he had so recently touched. Max frowned with worry over the tension and anxiety he saw in her eyes.

  ‘It isn’t that. I like it when you kiss me—very much. It—I—there is something, Max, something I want to ask you. Only— Oh, it’s so embarrassing. I don’t know how to begin. It—it’s about...’

  At last it dawned on Max what might be troubling her. ‘Our wedding night.’

  Relief flooded her eyes. ‘Oh, yes. I was hoping you would understand. Because, you see,’ she said, very simply and without embarrassment, ‘I do love you.’

  His smile faded. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. It’s quite natural for a woman to fall in love with the man she is going to marry. I—’

  He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her, and shook his head. ‘Don’t say it again,’ he said with quiet, implacable firmness. ‘Don’t give me more than you already have, Marietta.’

  Marietta averted her head and said nothing, but his rejection hurt her more than she imagined possible. But he must love her a little bit. She couldn’t believe he didn’t. She could feel it in the tenderness of his hands when he touched her and the fierce hunger of his lips.

  ‘You don’t even know me—not the real me,’ Max said.

  ‘I think I know you better than you realise,’ she said, knowing that whatever she said now would determine their future. ‘Why do you never talk about your wife?’ she blurted out, despising herself as she did so, because she hadn’t wanted to ask, hoping he would tell her. ‘You never speak of her.’

  Max didn’t meet her eyes. His reply was brusque. ‘No, I don’t.’

  Marietta was overcome with a desire to hit out at him. She didn’t, of course, adopting instead a casual tone, less precipitate than before, almost light, and saying, ‘It doesn’t matter. I understand perfectly if it upsets you to talk about her. But—why didn’t you have children?’ she dared to ask.

  His attitude suddenly changed and Marietta’s breath caught in her throat as she noticed the ominous glitter in those silver-grey eyes and the muscle leaping in his hard jaw. Behind that sardonic façade of his, there was a terrible burning anger, she realised. Despite the civilised elegance of his superbly tailored tweed suit, he had never looked more dangerous, more overpowering than he did at that moment.

  Max stared at her, his eyes hard and ice-cold. He remembered how shattered and enraged he had felt when he first discovered Nadine’s perfidy. ‘It didn’t happen. Neither of us wanted children.’

  ‘But—the rumours.’

  ‘Ah—the rumours. And there were plenty of those when Nadine was found in our hotel room dead from a haemorrhage.’

  ‘Yes—yes, there were,’ Marietta said, emboldened. ‘Were they true?’

  ‘Damn it, Marietta. Yes—my wife died of a miscarriage. There, I’ve said it. Are you satisfied now?’

  ‘I see,’ she said quietly. How could she argue without divulging her presence in Max’s hotel room on the night Nadine died? She had to do it, Nadine had told her. Do what? Get rid of her baby because Max didn’t want children?

  ‘I—I know you didn’t want children with Nadine...’ She quailed when his eyes sliced into her. ‘Teddy told me,’ she whispered, hoping and praying he would never discover the lie. She averted her gaze so he wouldn’t read what was in their depths, for she was not a liar and she did not cope well with subterfuge.

  Rage blazed in his eyes for a moment. Hearing that man’s name—that liar, braggart and seducer of other men’s wives—made him want to lash out. But Marietta was disillusioned enough about the corrupt dealings of her father and his business partner without him making matters worse for her. He shrugged resignedly. ‘He had no right to tell you that.’

  ‘No—but is it true?’

  It was a question subtly asked, but Max left it too long to reply. Marietta took his silence as assent. She sought something else to say, but there was too much and too little and Max, who was standing waiting for something further, must have realised that it wasn’t coming because he took her arm and said, ‘We should be getting back. I promised your grandmother I wouldn’t keep you too long.’

  On the point of walking back the way they had come, she paused and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry if what I said made you angry, Max. I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Marietta, are you afraid of our wedding night—about what will happen between us?’

  ‘Yes,’ she told him flatly. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help it...’ She was as pink as a rose when she trailed into pathetic silence.

  Placing his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to his. ‘Then don’t be. I promise you, Marietta, your worries are needless. I’m aware of your fears and I do understand.’

  Relief flooded over her. Along with many other things to do with the opposite sex, Yang Ling had explained there were certain things men could do to prevent children being born. Marietta could only imagine what these certain things might be for matters of a sexual nature were never discussed openly with a young unmarried woman, but she believed Yang Ling implicitly. Thankfully Max knew what she was saying and understood her fears. She was confident he would take care of everything.

  ‘Please don’t be despondent,’ he murmured, his lips against her hair. ‘Especially not now. We are to be married in one week. It’s a time for happiness, Marietta, a time to look forward for us both.’

  Lifting her head, she laughed in an attempt to dispel her fears. ‘You’re right as always, Max. I’m so sorry if my questions upset you. I don’t care about Nadine. I don’t care how much you loved her, if only you can find it in your heart to feel for me a fraction of what you felt for her.’

  ‘What I feel for you goes way beyond anything I believed possible, my love. Do you know how beautiful you are?’ he said hoarsely. Lifting his hand, he laid his palm against her soft cheek, his fingers softly tracing the delicate bones of her face. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, Marietta. I promise you.’

  Completely captivated by the intimate look in his
eyes and the compelling gentleness in his voice, Marietta swallowed hard and said, ‘I know. I do believe you, Max.’ His hypnotic gaze held hers as his hand continued its seductive stroking. She was mesmerised by his voice and the sweetness of his words. She smiled and took his hand. ‘Come along. Take me home—back to Grafton le Willows. Just think, it won’t be that for much longer and when I ask you to take me home, it will be to Arden.’

  Chapter Eight

  The morning of the wedding was warm and sunny, which, a sighing Yang Ling proclaimed as she helped Marietta into her costly wedding dress, was a good omen. The dress had been designed in the latest fashion, with a high neckline and long sleeves, tiny waist and flowing skirt. The fabric was cream duchesse satin set with tiny pearls and Brussels lace on the bodice. There was no other adornment or frills or flounces. The train spread about her feet like a puddle of cream.

  Lady Wingrove came bustling into the room, her eyes suspiciously damp. ‘I must say you do me credit, Marietta. You look radiant. Your dear mother would be so proud of you. If you are quite ready, Lord Russell has arrived.’

  Lord Russell was Lady Wingrove’s oldest and closest friend and since Marietta had no close male relative to give her away, he had been delighted and honoured to oblige.

  ‘The bridesmaids are about to leave for Arden. Your maid should go with them so that she will be on hand at the chapel to tidy you up when you get out of the carriage.’ She moved to stand close to her granddaughter. ‘There is just one thing, Marietta, before you go down.’ She paused and her voice became flustered. ‘My dear, I feel I might have neglected my duty somewhat, and it’s a little late in the day to be thinking of it now. But—it—it’s—are you prepared to do your duty by Max?’

  Without warning Marietta’s stomach suddenly clenched into knots. She felt as if she were being torn to pieces. Her mind pulled her one way and her heart tugged another. Fear coiled in her chest, desire pulsed through her veins, and her love for Max burned like a steady, glowing fire in the centre of it all. And she did love him. She loved him very much. Aware of what her grandmother was referring to, she smiled inwardly. ‘Please don’t concern yourself, Grandmother. Yang Ling instructed me long ago in what comes later. In Hong Kong, it was all part of a young girl’s education.’