by Meara Platt
“No,” he said with a slight frown. “Not my mother yet. I’m not sure what she’ll blurt if we tell her now. Let’s wait until we announce it to your family.”
“As you wish. Sadly, I suppose you’re right.”
“My sister is going to beat me about the head when she learns of this. She’ll be thrilled, no doubt. But to learn I married you after only a weekend’s acquaintance, after the agony I put her and Malcolm through…well, my little sister is never going to let me forget it.”
Honey’s rich laughter filled the air. “My family will be in an uproar, a happy uproar. I made such a fuss about not coming here, and an even bigger fuss about never marrying.” She leaned her head against his arm. “But Belle had given me The Book of Love and was convinced I was destined for the altar no matter what I did with that book.”
She began to nibble her lip as they now walked in silence across the meadow and into the back garden. “Tom,” she said after a moment, “do you think it’s possible? Do you think the book is magical?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It didn’t make me fall in love with you. I was already in love with you before you ever set your hands on the book. But reading it certainly helped me understand what I was thinking and feeling, and what you were thinking and feeling as well. Perhaps it did work some magic in bringing us around to admit how we felt about each other.”
She nodded. “And to understand what a precious thing it is to find true love.”
“What will happen next with the book? It gets passed around from debutante to debutante, doesn’t it? Who will you pass it on to next?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Obviously, one of my three Yorkshire cousins. Holly, Dahlia, and Heather are down here for their come-outs. Well, not Holly. She’s widowed, and even though she’s hardly older than me, she refuses to put herself on the marriage mart again. I suppose the book will point me in the right direction when the time comes.”
They strolled through the garden in no particular hurry to enter the house. “Violet told me that once she had married Romulus, she was going to give it to me. But then an odd feeling suddenly came over her, and she had to give the book to Belle. As for Belle’s decision when it came her turn to give it away, her choice was easy. She refused to listen to a word I’d said and insisted on handing me the book.”
“I’m grateful to her then.” He grinned. “If not for your sister, you might still be running, and I might still be chasing.”
She cast him a wistful gaze. “And at some point, you would have given up and stopped.”
He nodded. “It would have taken quite a while. I can be stubborn when I want something, and I wanted you badly.”
When they returned to the house, tea was being served in the drawing room. Although he and Honey said nothing to the others, Tom did not think anyone could overlook the hot, steaming glances he kept tossing her.
They all had to know something was in the offing.
Well, they would learn of it soon enough.
He intended to break the news to both families immediately upon their return to London and marry Honey as soon as possible thereafter. Why wait to wed? He already ached for her. How many nights had he spent alone in his bed, his thoughts and fantasies about her? No, there would be no delay in getting her to the alter.
He hadn’t discussed it with her but did not think she would mind. Once a decision was made, he liked to act quickly. Announce the betrothal. Arrange for the special license. Draw up the betrothal contract…or that could be done later, he didn’t care. Marry her before the week was out.
His thoughts turned to his sister, and he knew missing their wedding would disappoint her greatly. But he hoped Anne would understand. Caithness was in the upper Highlands. It would take a fortnight for word to reach her. And then having to wait perhaps another month for her to arrive in London? It was just too long to bear.
Of course, she would understand. She and Malcolm hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. He felt the same way about Honey. They would know exactly what was going through his mind and why the need for haste.
He could hardly wait an hour, much less an entire week. To hold off beyond that would be impossible, for he’d seen Honey’s body and knew the taste, the silken touch and scent of her, and the mere thought of it made his heart pound and the blood rush to his head.
No, he was helpless when it came to the girl. He would never have the strength to keep his hands off her.
Perhaps tonight, if she had no objections. After all, they would be husband and wife within the week, less time if he had his way.
Tom did not know how they made it through the tea hour and later, the supper hour without everyone guessing they were betrothed. Then again, most of the younger ladies and gentlemen were here for precisely the same reason, to make matches.
After supper, the dancing started. It was not considered good form to open with a waltz, but Tom could not wait a moment longer to hold Honey in his arms.
No one minded when they realized he’d broken with protocol.
Wrexham had a wicked grin on his face and was ogling Lady Phillipa. Good luck with that. Phillipa was no meek maid. But she was a decent girl, and Wrexham wasn’t getting anything from her without a proposal of marriage.
Lady Margaret had her eyes on Lord Jameson, blushing with glee when he claimed her for the dance.
The elders had their eyes on all of them, the fathers knowing what the men wanted from their precious, innocent daughters, and the mothers holding their breaths that an offer of marriage might spring forth this weekend.
Tom walked over to Honey, who was seated beside Lavinia and Poppy. Periwinkle, as ever, was perched on Lavinia’s lap, his little ears perked as he sniffed every lord and lady who drew close. “I believe this dance is mine, Miss Farthingale.”
He held out his hand.
She put hers in his and smiled. “It is, my lord.”
While this small party was far less grand than a London affair, it was the last night his guests would be here, so everyone had rested, bathed, and dressed in their finery for this evening’s festivities.
He’d fallen so hard for Honey it was no surprise she took his breath away. She always did, never more so now. “You look beautiful.”
Starlight shone in her eyes, and it pleased him to see her this happy, the haunting sadness completely gone. “Thank you.”
He discreetly nuzzled her neck. “Vanilla soap.”
She nodded and then cleared her throat. “Tom…”
“Yes, love,” he whispered as they waited for the musicians to strike the first notes.
A blush dotted her cheeks. “Will you come to my room tonight?”
Hell, yes.
But he wasn’t going to force her. “Do you want me to?”
The fire in her cheeks was response enough. He chuckled. “I’ll be there.”
Although he was pleased, it also pained him to know Honey was wearing a borrowed gown. Poppy had loaned it to her knowing his mother had destroyed Honey’s two evening gowns. Fortunately, the cousins were close in size and build. He doubted anyone would ever guess the pale lavender silk hadn’t been made especially for her.
He felt a shiver run through her body when he placed one hand at the small of her back and took her other in his hand. “Ready, love?”
She nodded.
As the first strains of the waltz filled the room, he drew her closer and twirled her in a circle, following the arc of steps and turns along with their other friends. But his attention was on her, as he feared it would always be, even into their dotage. Well, it wasn’t a fear so much as a deep, abiding joy to know this was the woman who would share his life.
She, however, was looking with wide-eyed glee at Wrexham and Phillipa.
Tom could not hold back a chuckle. “Oh, lord. She’s trying to lead.”
Neither could Honey hold back her laughter. “They’re going to fall atop each other unless one of them gives an inch.”
Her eyes widened. “Tom!”
Perhaps he had been a little too descriptive, but she was to blame for that. He was never on his guard around her. He could be himself. “Sorry,” he said with a smirk, knowing by her own struggle to suppress a laugh she wasn’t really offended. “They’ll sort it out. Do you realize I’ve never danced the waltz with you before tonight?”
She nodded. “You probably tried to ask me. But at every society event, I spent half the night sneaking peeks at you and the other half running away from you. I’m glad there’s no need for that anymore.”
“No wonder I could never find you.”
She regarded him earnestly. “No hiding from you ever again.”
He wanted to kiss her.
When did he not?
Later that night, in the wee hours of the morning, once everyone else had retired to bed, Tom quietly knocked at Honey’s door. When she opened it to let him in, he saw that she had changed out of her gown and wore only a thin nightrail. He smiled, liking that she’d taken the pins from her hair and left it unbound. He had changed out of his formal attire and tossed on the plainer trousers and shirt he always wore whenever working on Halford Grange.
He stepped in and shut the door behind him, his heart giving a tug when he saw Honey’s expression. Love mingled with trepidation. Giving herself to a man was not something she’d ever done before. Yet, she wanted to give herself to him because she loved him. “Honey, we can wait for this until we are husband and wife.”
“Do you not wish to—”
He laughed softly. “I wish to so badly, I think my spleen is about to rupture.”
That brought a smile to her face. “So do I. But, I was afraid you’d think less of me if we…coupled…before we were wed.”
“I wouldn’t. We are only days away from a ceremony that would only make official what is already in my heart.”
She let out a breath. “I feel the same. Take me to bed, Tom.”
He lifted her in his arms and set her on the mattress but made no immediate move to take the nightgown off her. He stretched out beside her, still clothed, and took her back in his arms, just holding her and stroking his hand along her arm.
He kissed her on the forehead, still sensing her uncertainty. But this was Honey, and this was why he loved her. She had a well-defined code of honor and was struggling with herself to do the right thing. It was ironic really, for when she held out no hope of ever being married, she would have given herself to him without hesitation.
But now that they were about to be married, she wasn’t certain. It meant something to her to come to their wedding bed unspoiled.
Hell. If this was important to her, he’d wait until they’d had their ceremony.
Truly ironic, the only debutante he wanted was the only one ever to resist him. “I suppose my spleen can hold out for a few more days,” he joked.
Perhaps it was his willingness to wait, not to force her into doing something she might regret, that seemed to decide it for her. “Tom,” she whispered and tried to take off his shirt.
Lord, it would take hours if her fumbling was any indication.
He helped her by removing it himself. “Are you sure, love?”
She nodded. “I just needed a little time to feel comfortable with it. Not that I ever had a moment’s doubt about you. Or any doubt about us. But I didn’t know if I was giving up a special moment…our wedding night, if we…you know, did this sooner. However, you’re what makes it special, and that won’t change.”
She nudged him onto his back and shifted her body so that she lay almost atop him, her soft, plump breasts resting against his chest. She reached up and brought her lips to his, her kiss light and gentle. He felt the delicate warmth of her hand on his shoulder, then almost shot off the bed when she slid it lower, down his chest, down his stomach, and lower still.
He took over at that point, knowing she’d made her decision. Perhaps next time, he’d work the nightgown off her with more finesse, but right now, he just wanted it off her, no impediment to his view of her beautiful body.
He’d seen her, touched her before. Even so, he inhaled sharply when he removed the flimsy obstruction and had an unhampered view of her firm, creamy breasts. Ah, how they sent his low brain into spasms.
He loved the way her molten curls cascaded down to her hips.
Truly, this girl took his breath away.
Fire roared through his veins. He rolled her under him, hardly able to hold a rational thought as he initiated this mating dance as old as time itself. He kissed her on the mouth, his lips molding to their lush fullness. At the same time, he cupped her breast, kneading it lightly and swirling his thumb over its dusky rose tip.
She licked her lips, and her breaths came a little faster now. He liked the way her body arched toward him as she responded to his touch and responded to the heat and weight of him as he positioned himself atop her.
But he took the brunt of his weight onto his elbows, careful not to crush her as he dipped his head and took the rosy tip of her breast into his mouth, suckling and licking until it tightened. She clutched his head, her fingers twining in his hair.
Blessed saints.
He had no intention of removing his mouth from the creamy mound unless it was to shift to the other, which he now did and received a breathy moan of satisfaction in response. He felt her skin warming, saw the light flush in her cheeks, and knew it was time to stoke the fire. He slipped his hand between her legs and touched her sweet core, taking only a few gentle strokes before he felt her became slick.
“Tom,” she whispered, her hands still grasping his head.
“I know, love.” She was so soft and sweet that he couldn’t get enough of her. She was so beautifully aroused, so open in her purrs of pleasure. But this time, he wanted to share in the pleasure, feel her responsive shudders as he joined with her.
He drew away a moment to remove his trousers, and there was no question he was ready to claim her. Her eyes were still closed, and perhaps it was for the best this first time. “Sweetheart, this might feel a bit tight at first. The discomfort won’t last.”
She nodded and opened her eyes to smile at him.
He positioned himself between her legs and eased himself into her slowly, pushing in only a little at a time. Even so, the feel of her tight innocence against his tip had his control unraveling. In truth, shattered. All mindfulness abandoned as primordial urges sprang from somewhere deep within the hidden corners of his heart. He did not think, he only felt.
Hunger. I want this girl.
Possession. Need to mate with her. She is mine.
Craving. I can’t get enough of her. She is in my soul.
His thrusts became more urgent as her tension eased, but this was new to her, and although she was slick, she still fit him like a tight sheathe. The friction, the steadily undulating motion of their joined bodies, the thrusts in and out, were at the same time exhilarating and unbearable. Well, he could bear it. Of course, he could bear the mounting pressure, that slow burn soon to result in a volcanic eruption. He felt the molten heat in his blood, felt it flowing like liquid fire through his every pore and limb.
He quietly roared when the burst came, spilling himself into Honey, driving himself deeply into her until he was spent of every drop. Possessive pride filled him, for he’d also heard her gentle cries of pleasure mingled with his grunts and roars, and knew they’d reached their fiery ecstasy together.
He was reluctant to pull out, but she had drained him, and they couldn’t remain like this, still joined and him crushing her with his big, sweating body. He finally did ease out of her and wrapped her in his arms, holding her in his enveloping embrace.
This is what he had been missing. This is what his heart, soul, and body had lacked until now. Everything felt different with her. Better. Timeless. She had the ability to turn him i
nto a ravenous beast, and at the same time, had tamed him so completely. “How do you feel, my love?”
She smiled at him. “Must I say it? Can you not see the happiness on my face?”
“Yes, I do see it.” Because Honey could hide nothing from him.
There was no one like this girl.
How was he going to manage the next few days without her?
“How do you feel, Tom?”
He rolled onto his back and groaned, a moment later reaching for her hand and entwining her fingers with his.
He brought her hand to his lips and gave it a soft, lingering kiss.
Words failed him.
How could he describe this moment of idyllic bliss?
Chapter Thirteen
Honey felt Tom stir from her bed shortly before daybreak.
Oh, heavens! What they’d done!
She turned to look at him as he quietly tossed on his trousers and shirt, admiring his lean, muscled form in the graying light. He must have sensed her watching, for he smiled as his gaze met hers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
His arms had been around her, holding her through the night. She’d felt a chill when he rose to dress. “I was awake.”
He came around to her side of the bed and sat down, his weight causing the mattress to tip and roll her toward him. He took advantage of her nearness to kiss her lightly on the lips. “How do you feel?”
“Different. A little overwhelmed.” Perhaps this was not what he’d hoped to hear, but everything did feel different this morning. She drew the covers over her bosom for the sake of modesty, feeling not quite as bold or wanton as she had a few hours ago.
“I love you, Honey.” He frowned lightly. “Have your feelings for me changed?”
