Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “I’ll buy you more,” growled Liam. “If I ever allow you to get out of this bed.” He quickly divested her of the rest of her clothes.

  She suddenly felt shy under his avid gaze.

  He seemed to be studying her. “Rosalind, there can be no going back after this day. If you wish it, I will leave. But you will never be free of me.”

  “I do not want you to go,” she said, knowing she would still have to leave him.

  He seemed relieved. “Good. Because today our bodies will be as our hearts have already been: joined forever.”

  * * *

  Liam could barely contain his passion. He didn’t want to scare her away, yet he couldn’t seem to slow down. He’d torn her gown. She was fortunate he’d waited as long as he had. If she hadn’t been surrounded by children when he’d first found her, he would have had her then. In the school room tavern. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Couldn’t keep his lips from her.

  The bed was small with barely enough room for the two of them. No matter. There were plenty of beds at his estate, not to mention what they could do on the carriage ride back to town. He would have to billet Olivia Morrison in the village, then send for her later because he had many plans for his Rosalind in that carriage.

  His Rosalind.

  He was so hard he could barely contain himself. Her hands had travelled everywhere they could reach, save the one place he most wanted to feel her touch. Though that could easily turn disastrous.

  He had no finesse at the moment. No patience or control.

  “Rosalind, my love, I shall not last long. Please forgive me for moving us along so quickly, but I am afraid I must.”

  He looked at her dazed eyes, the flush of her lovely neck and chest. He had a feeling she wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he moved a hand down past her soft, flat belly to the curls below. Fortunately, she was wet. He didn’t want this to be any more difficult for her than it was going to be.

  He parted her legs and found her with his cock. Every muscle had to be restrained to keep from sinking into her softness at a pace that would be too fast and too difficult for her. He breathed in, set for an ordeal.

  “Liam.”

  She was still touching him all over, as if unsure if he were really there.

  “Yes, my love?”

  “Please. Show me what we could be together.”

  A more patient man would want that moment to last forever. The gentle plea. The trust in her eyes.

  He was not a patient man.

  He pressed into her as gently as he could. She bit her bottom lip and he wanted to hurt himself for hurting her. But she did not tell him to stop and he pressed on. Inward. Breaching the barrier, then seating himself all the way in.

  He was home at last. The peace which had eluded him since his world had been shaken at nineteen seemed to envelop him. And it came from the woman beneath him.

  His Rosalind.

  He began to move. Slowly, carefully. Reining in the heat and passion, even if it killed him. And he felt like it might.

  She was moving with him. Straining against him. She had a natural passion that he found so very arousing. Perhaps too arousing. He couldn’t show her the true side of his nature now. She was too inexperienced. He might not ever be able to. But that didn’t matter. All he cared about was she was here now and beneath him.

  He began to move faster, which seemed to excite her even more. She moved her head from side to side as if unable to control her movements. Then she sat up and brought her face near his. Without thinking, almost like the instinct of an animal, she nipped him on the shoulder. Fairly hard.

  They both stopped and took each other in. She seemed to be horrified by what had been a natural instinct. A very pleasurable natural instinct.

  “Liam, I am so sorry,” she began.

  But he didn’t give her the chance to continue. Nothing could have excited him more than her unbridled response. He lost control and moved faster until he was pounding in and out of her. And she was with him every moment, clinging to him and glorying in it as he was with her.

  “Liam,” she said before crying out and shaking with the force of her climax.

  “Rosalind!” he cried, as he emptied himself into her. The force of his climax seemed to go and on. He came close to blacking out and wavered on his arms. She reached up to steady him, concern on her beautiful face.

  He smiled, then carefully lay himself upon her, still joined. He gently kissed her. And they lay like that for several minutes, trading kisses as she caressed his back.

  “I must be crushing you,” he said, as he slowly pulled out. Not because he wanted to leave her, but because he would soon be hard again and he didn’t want to hurt her by making love a second time when she was bound to be sore.

  However, he soon realized the bed was so small there was no place for him to go. So he deftly rolled onto his back, while pulling her on top of him.

  “My bed is not very large,” she said, as she happily settled upon him.

  “I am not sure a larger bed would fit in here,” said Liam, looking at the small room for the first time. “I’m surprised the maid can even enter to light the fire when you’re abed.”

  Rosalind smiled. “There is no maid.”

  Liam wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. “But surely there must be some servants.”

  “Not a one. I am maid, cook and even gardener. Though I haven’t had much cause to exercise any gardening skills, seeing as the ground is frozen solid. But it would have been a beautiful garden.”

  “Perhaps you can put your penchant for gardening to better use elsewhere.”

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  “I would like to hear more about your cooking. I had no idea you knew how.”

  “I don’t. Not really, though I am much more proficient than I was when I first arrived. Poor Gabriel could barely…”

  Liam frowned. “Poor Gabriel, my arse.”

  Rosalind popped her head up at that comment in surprise, though it appeared she was also trying to stifle a laugh.

  “Such language, your grace.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll thank you not to speak of that hulking farmer while you’re naked in my arms. Actually, I wouldn’t mind never hearing the sot’s name ever again.

  She pillowed her head back on his chest. “He really has been most kind.”

  Liam grunted, and pulled her closer to him. “Can you tell me how you came to be here?”

  So Rosalind told him the story of deciding to leave, quietly selling her few possessions for serviceable gowns and enough money to fund her journey. When she recounted stealing out in the middle of the night to find a coach at an inn, he tensed. He hated thinking of her taking such chances with her safety.

  “Liam.”

  He looked at her.

  “I am finding it hard to draw breath.”

  It was only then that he realized he was holding her with a vise-like grip. He relaxed his hold, but he wasn’t about to let her escape the safety of his arms. Fortunately, it appeared she had no intention of doing so. “I am sorry, my love. Pray continue.”

  She told him of the driver who kicked the children off the coach, and he vowed to find a way to let the bastard know just how displeased he was. That Rosalind would give up her seat to protect the children was no surprise. But once again, he was reminded of the harm that might have come to her.

  When she told him of her journey to the village and the assistance the hulking farmer had lent her, he was grateful. And he didn’t like that one bit. “He may have given you safe haven, but he has an ulterior motive, I assure you.”

  Rosalind rose up once again, exposing just enough of her breasts to bring his loins to full attention. “Gabriel has been nothing but kindness itself. Without him, I would have journeyed on to an uncertain future in Scotland…”

  “Scotland!”

  She continued as if he hadn’t just questioned her sanity, because who on Earth would travel to
Scotland in winter?

  “Yes, Scotland,” she said. “I needed to travel far enough away from London to evade any attempts by my family to find me. To be honest, I was rather apprehensive about going there. I still am.”

  “What do you mean, you ‘still are?’”

  “I assume you learned of my location from Lady Elling. I had asked her to keep it a secret, but that was apparently too great of a task for her. As soon as she’s back in London, she’ll have told everyone my location. Mama and Calvin will send someone to retrieve me as soon as they hear.”

  “They can send anyone they like, but if you think I’ll let them take my duchess from me, you are gravely mistaken.”

  Now Rosalind sat all the way up, giving him a delicious view of her body and almost falling off the narrow bed in the meantime. He reached out to hold her steady.

  “I am not going to be your duchess.”

  “Of course you are. You’ll be my duchess, my wife. You’re already my lover and the keeper of my heart. Now, do you think we can go back to the lover part?”

  But she’d bolted from the bed before he knew what she was about. It was most decidedly not the reaction he was looking for. And she was already rummaging through her tiny dresser looking for a replacement for the gown he had ripped. Perhaps he should shred them all, if it kept her where she should be. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “It is cold in here. I must dress.”

  “It isn’t cold in bed. I promise to keep you warm if you’ll but return to it.”

  “Your grace,” said Rosalind, for all the world sounding like the school teacher she purported to be. “I cannot marry you.”

  That pronouncement got him out of the warm bed. For a moment, her eyes locked on the most insistent part of him. But then she continued her rush to dress. Knowing he was temporarily thwarted and completely freezing in the unheated room, he began to dress as well.

  “Not only ‘can’ you marry me, but you will. What has all of this been, if not the prelude to the rest of our lives together?”

  “A fulfillment of my dreams, if you must know.”

  Liam smiled. What man didn’t want to hear that?

  “Up to a point, of course,” she unhelpfully continued. “I would have preferred that our…” Here, she gestured in his general direction.

  “Love making?”

  “Consummation. I would have preferred that our consummation had occurred in our marriage bed. Or, at the very least, within the context of a future together. But, obviously, that is impossible.”

  “What the devil are you going on about?”

  She closed the distance between them, but not in the way he would have liked. She stood before him, hands on hips, eyes narrowed and determination in every movement. “You do not love me. In all the years we’ve known each other, you made only one attempt to let me know of any feelings toward me that weren’t of the brotherly type. Then, once we’d reached a certain point…” Here, her face flooded with color. “….you made it perfectly clear you had no desire to go further. For whatever reason, you then rejected me. I don’t know if it was my ineptitude or my eagerness for your advances or my age or my spectacles or my appearance or my family, though in complete honesty I must say that I would not willingly align myself with Calvin or Mama if I were you, either.”

  He was left speechless. Then he was left alone because she chose that moment to tear off down the narrow stairs as if chased by a wild boar.

  He finished dressing, then went after her, only to find her at the hearth in the tiny kitchen, trying to fan the flames. He picked up several logs, then gently pushed her out of the way.

  “You can’t use all of that!” she protested. “I don’t have much wood left.”

  He turned to her and lifted a brow. “I can afford to buy more.”

  “But I cannot and that is what’s important.”

  “What’s important is our not freezing to death while we sort out matters.”

  “There is nothing to sort. I am not going to marry you.”

  “You are certainly stubborn enough to be a Kellington. Why not make it official? Now kindly show me those cooking skills you possess by making us tea. Recent activities have made me famished.”

  * * *

  Rosalind wanted nothing more than to hit Liam with one of the logs he was so casually throwing onto the fire. Well, that wasn’t quite honest. She wanted nothing more than to return to bed with him, emerging hours later, affianced to the dratted man. And the fire truly did feel good. She hadn’t been this warm since leaving her family’s home so many weeks earlier.

  She’d had to flee down the stairs earlier because she was afraid she’d weaken and agree to marry him. Despite what he was saying, she knew he offered marriage only because he’d taken her innocence. In truth, there’d been very little taking on his part, and a good deal of throwing herself at him on her part.

  She put the kettle on the fire, then placed the two mismatched cups and saucers on the table, all but slamming them down.

  “What could your cups have done to anger you, I wonder,” mused Liam, as he watched her work, refusing to move his distracting body as she measured out the tea.

  “It is not the cups, your grace,” she said, knowing that use of his title would irritate him. She shouldn’t be the only one to be unsure of what was happening. And did he have to look so calm and well put together?

  “I see. It is probably just the ill effects of living in a house where the temperature threatens to turn to snow.”

  “I quite like my cottage and I’ll thank you not to make jests about it. While I do not own it, it is the first home that has ever felt like it is mine. And I have been…” Oh, no. Tears were threatening to flow. What was wrong with her? She turned back to her teapot. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.

  “Rosalind.” His voice was so kind and gentle that there was no doubt whatsoever he had noticed.

  She took a breath and busied herself with the tea, though everything was set out and she was only waiting for the water to boil.

  “Rosalind.” This time he gently turned her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me. Please.”

  She slowly lifted her head and it was finally too much. Months of anxiety and weeks of being on the run finally became too much and she started to cry.

  He immediately enveloped her into his arms. Her cheek lay on his chest, his hands ran up and down her back soothingly.

  “It’s all right my love. Go ahead and cry.” He pulled out his handkerchief for her, no doubt because she was soaking his shirt. Her tears were silent, but she couldn’t stop the convulsive sobs. It felt so good to be in his arms, but her problems were still her own. He could not solve them for her. No matter how tempting it was to let him try.

  She was finally brought out of her sobbing by the sound of the water boiling. At first he wasn’t going to let her leave his arms.

  “The water,” she said. “You wanted tea.”

  “I don’t care about tea.”

  “But I do. And we might warm ourselves with it.”

  “I have another idea entirely about how we might warm ourselves,” he said, making her realize she could feel his arousal.

  She stepped away. “Is that all you think about?” She made the question as repressive as possible, though she doubted it sounded that way. It was particularly hypocritical of her, since she’d thought of little else since leaving their bed. Her bed. It was her bed. Not theirs.

  “With you it is. I fear you have quite spoiled me for anyone else, which is yet another reason why we must marry.”

  She carefully poured water into the teapot, trying hard not to spill. But when he said things like that it was almost impossible to do anything requiring sense. She then went to the larder for the scones.

  “Is there something I might do to help?” asked Liam.

  “I was not under the impression that you could acquit yourself well in the kitchen.”

  He smiled. “I assure you that I can acq
uit myself well in any room, if you’ll but consent to it.”

  She was glad her back was turned because she was grinning – and blushing – from ear to ear. She returned with the scones and a more sober countenance. “Please take a seat. I am used to eating in the kitchen, though I am sure it is a foreign concept to you.”

  “As long as I am with you, I have no complaints.” He transferred the teapot to the table, then stood behind the battered bench waiting for her to sit.

  She placed a plate with a scone in front of each of them, then sat on her side of the table. Only then did he sit. “I am afraid they’re a little burnt,” she said. “And I only have a small amount of honey.”

  “I am sure it will be delicious,” said Liam, as he took a bite. Then froze. He may even have chipped a tooth from the arrested expression on his face, but then he quickly schooled his features.

  “I am afraid they’re a little hard,” she said, wishing she were a more accomplished cook. But she’d made them yesterday and the larder was so cold it was a miracle they weren’t frozen.

  “As I said,” said Liam, after gallantly swallowing the first bite, “it is delicious.” He then put down the remainder of the scone and took a sip of tea. “The tea is quite good.”

  Rosalind had to smile. “It is difficult to burn tea. But I assure you that if anyone could, it would be I.”

  He smiled. “I think you are quite accomplished. However did you learn to…” He gestured to the food.

  “To burn things, your grace?”

  “Stop ‘your gracing’ me.”

  “Or what, your grace? You’ll throw a scone at my head?” It felt good to tease him. She’d never had the nerve to before, though Lizzie had been merciless with him.

  “And take a chance of killing you?” He grinned in a lighthearted manner that took her breath away. “I could never get you to marry me then.”

  “You’ll never get me to marry you now.”

  “Oh, Rosalind, you must change your mind.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I do not wish to live without you.”