“I love watching you. So intimate,” he said, his voice husky and rough-edged.
She followed his gaze and watched him entering her body, sinking deep. And she accepted him, swallowed him up and settled around his shaft like an embrace. The most intimate embrace of all.
“Don’t leave me,” she said, the words torn out of her. “Please, Marcus, I couldn’t bear it.”
“I won’t. I swear it.” Drawing her head down, he kissed her and moved inside her, swirling his hips so he connected with all of her. His tongue slid into her mouth, imitating his actions below. Despite her feverish excitement, she did not initiate a harder, more insistent rhythm but was happy to let him set the pace.
Marcus took his time. His kiss developed into a series of flickering licks. While he did not slam into her with the power he was capable of giving, his sinuous strokes brought her up. She gasped into his mouth as tingles spread through her, insistent waves of arousal, increasing to irresistible power.
He moaned in return and kissed her in a series of seductive touches, light licks, pressing his mouth against hers and then retreating so they barely touched. Tilting his head to one side, he kissed her again, and she responded, taking him with as much need as he was taking her.
When she swiveled her hips, she created a new way of driving them both mad. His sharp, “Ah!” told her all she needed to know. Holding on to the arms of the chair, she did it again and found her rhythm so she could continue without thinking overmuch. Her senses opened to him. He smelled of fresh soap and even fresher male; he tasted of Marcus. The small sounds he made when he thrust inside her were essentially masculine, grunts and the like. Viola nestled closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
They moved as one, towards the same end, their private hair meshing, their bodies colliding with each deep impact. Flinging her arms around his neck, she took her weight on her toes, so she gained a different kind of leverage.
The world froze, teetered on the brink, and she came.
An explosion of wet heat trailed fiery intensity in its wake. Helpless in the storm, she held on and heard his responsive cry.
His shaft pulsed, pushing his essence into her body, deeper and deeper until it reached the heart of her.
She stilled, half-laughing with sheer joy, her hair trailing over his face.
Putting his hands on her waist, he urged her away and gazed up into her eyes. “I don’t think Lady Honiston will see us tonight.”
In a moment she recalled the identity of the lady. Ah, yes, the dinner guest. “No,” she said softly. “She probably won’t.”
They enjoyed each other for a little longer, their closeness a blessing to them both, before he lifted her away. Wetness bedaubed her thighs, the result of their mingled juices.
“Lovemaking is messy, isn’t it?” Lifting her skirts, she tottered over to the washbasin and picked up the cloth.
“Let me,” he said, coming up behind her.
He unfastened and unhooked, getting her naked with a swiftness she had to admire. He was so deliciously competent. When she was naked, he washed her from her neck to her toes, abandoning the washcloth to soap his hands and rub them over her breasts. He teased and tweaked, sending fresh prickles of awareness through her. “You’re a wicked man,” she murmured.
“And you love me for it,” he said, and kissed the side of her neck.
“Yes I do.”
The world stilled. Taking her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “And I love you,” he said. “Truly. Nothing is complete without you.”
“Yes.” She could do nothing but agree with him. She could hardly remember a time when she did not want him and love him in some fashion. Although she had never loved him as intensely, as all-consuming, as she did now.
A smile curved his lips as he kissed her, as softly and sweetly as their first touch. “I love you, Viola. When I think what I could have missed, what I so nearly did not have—” He drew her close, heedless of her still wet breasts.
“I never—I always loved you.”
“Always?” He drew back, his eyes widening. “Since we were children?”
“Yes. Although I would have said nothing. I always knew you were meant for greater things. I only wished your wife would give you the happiness I wanted to.” She laughed, a little awkward now she had made her confession. “Not that I wandered around pining for you. That came later, after we’d spent the night together at the inn. Then I knew for sure what I would be missing for the rest of my life.”
“But you’re not.” He touched the end of her nose with his finger and then kissed the spot. “I nearly threw away so much. I wish I could say the same. But I looked on you as more of a pet, someone to play with. When they separated us, I was angry. But my family brought me to realize I was doing you a disservice, too, if I let you follow me around all the time. You were not unhappy, were you?”
“Only at first. Then they put me into lessons with Dru, to encourage her, and I think as some manner of consolation prize. It worked, to a certain extent.” He wanted to know he had not made her unhappy. He had, but she had never let herself dwell on it, telling herself firmly she was foolish for wishing for what she could not have. Except she could. The transition from estate manager’s daughter to princess to countess had been an odd journey, but she welcomed it. She would not be the person he loved if she had not.
“So we will be happy, will we not?”
Of course they would. Nodding eagerly, she burrowed against him.
Chuckling, he eased her away and took her to the bed. “I’ve not finished with you yet. Climb in. I’ll give orders for supper to be served in your boudoir, and then I’ll come back to you.”
She had not meant to sleep, but she drifted away dreaming of him and what he would do to her next. And what she would do to him.
He did not disappoint her.
Chapter 18
Tousled but happy, they awoke in the morning to kisses and joyous lovemaking. They had made love during the night, sometimes she beginning their loving and sometimes him.
After they had done, he curled her into his arms and claimed another kiss.
Staring into her eyes, he caught his breath. “I have an idea. Only because I am desperate to have you to myself, you understand.”
Delighted in his trust, Viola listened and agreed with him. Their plan was reckless, but it had a greater degree of success than anything else they had yet thought of.
“Give me leave to visit Julius and pay a few more calls. We can be ready in two days,” he said.
* * * *
At last, he could do something, and with his wife’s cooperation. Marcus made his plans very carefully. The two days gave him time to tell everyone he met he was leaving town, taking his wife to his villa in Leicestershire. Two days was just enough time to make a fuss, not enough for elaborate plans. Unless one happened to be an Emperor of London. In that case, he could visit, spread the word, and have everything in place in no time at all.
He had employed the use of the family’s best traveling carriage, promising to deliver it back unharmed to his mother. “Or I will buy you a new one. Just think of the fun you could have replacing it, Mama!”
Lady Strenshall gave him a narrow look. “Yes, just think!”
They set out early, so as to make the first stop in plenty of time. Several innkeepers had been warned to expect them because this time they travelled in state—a coach in front, carrying the lord and lady, and behind them, another coach with her maid, his valet, and other necessary servants.
“That is a beautiful riding habit,” he remarked, handing her into the vehicle. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”
“Nor likely to again,” she responded. “The silver braid is falling off already.”
“Ah.” He spotted a worn patch on the elbow. “If you don’t mind me saying so, it is still better than the one you wore on our flight to London.”
She smiled s
lowly, a reminiscent faraway look in her eyes he delighted to see.
“Do you still have that?”
“My maid threw it out. Otherwise I’d have worn that one. I had to send another maid to collect this one. The superior Frenchwoman who now attends me would have nothing to do with it.”
“What did you tell her?” he said, fascinated.
The footman outside shouted to the coachman, who shouted back to him. They called to the horses, and Marcus and Viola were on their way. A slight bump pushed him forward when one of the footmen leaped up behind.
“I told her I had taken a fancy to it. I passed it in the town carriage, and I wanted it the moment I saw it. She sniffed. By the way, she is no more French than I am.”
“I guessed,” he said dryly. The woman’s command of what was supposed to be her native language was not extensive. But she had proved a good maid, so he cared little what airs she affected.
Apparently Viola thought the same way, because she had sent Dubois ahead yesterday to ensure she reached the first inn on time. The maid in the carriage behind them was a new one, expressly employed to help her mistress on the journey. A hulking girl, and one who galumphed in skirts, unable to balance her hooped petticoat properly, but she was adequate.
They travelled through the streets of London, taking their time, while Viola pointed at various sights, demanding to know what they were.
“I did promise to take you to more sights,” he said regretfully. “Next season I will for sure.”
“Or we could come in the autumn, when town is less crowded. I can’t promise we will have the house to ourselves, but it will certainly not be as crowded.”
She sniggered. “You call that crowded? A house where everyone has his own room and even his own private parlor?” She rested her chin on her hand. “My father and I lived far closer than that, and our house was considered spacious by most of our neighbors. We were lords of the village, did you know that?”
He shook his head, glad she was finally talking about her father. He took her hand, a habit he was finding pleasant to the point of addiction. He vastly preferred it to the formal hand on arm pose they were supposed to affect. Why had he constantly done what society expected of him?
Because, before Viola, his duties had worn him down. Before, he’d taken his duties seriously and worked every hour he could to ensure he did nothing wrong. Viola had liberated him from that way of thinking. He no longer fretted his father would find him wanting. He had someone to talk to, someone who put him above all others.
Viola.
He would not say she saw him without fault. That would not be good for him in any case. Her robust arguments, her lively intelligence, and the fact he never knew what she would do next all served to keep him on his toes. He would not let her down, but that included making her laugh and enjoying life to the full.
They passed the inn where they had arrived in London on their way up Ludgate Hill, and he tightened his hand around hers. “I meant to marry you after our first night,” he confessed. “I would not have done it otherwise.”
“But you—you didn’t—” she took a breath. “You left me intact.”
“To give you a choice. I had worked so hard to ensure we travelled secretly, it occurred to me you might like to stay Miss Gates for longer.” He turned his head and smiled at her dear face. “While I’m glad you didn’t, I wanted the choice to be yours. That is your doing, my love.”
“How so? I never told you to do anything. You seized the opportunity to travel on the coach without any prompting. I would have hired a chaise or found shelter in someone’s home. I would probably have gone to my aunt’s in York. But when you said you wanted to take me to London, I couldn’t resist.”
“If the first coach to leave the village had gone to York, I might have escorted you there,” he admitted. “But already I didn’t want to leave you. You would have been safe there, and I would not have worried about you while I set about discovering who attacked you. I didn’t want that. Already I did not want you to leave my side.”
“I didn’t want to,” she said, her cheeks flushing rosily. “If that was the last time I had with you, I wanted it all. I had determined to seduce you.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the ring he’d placed there on their wedding day. “I’m glad you did.” He let his mouth quirk up at one corner. “Very soon, I’ll show you how much.”
The glow in her eyes almost made him draw down the blinds over the windows and show her right now.
They turned right and headed through the city towards the outskirts and the Great North Road. They passed Spitalfields Market, the traders standing under the makeshift canopies, bellowing their wares so loudly Marcus gave up talking when they passed it. Fruit was piled high next to stacks of cabbages and other vegetables. “Spitalfields feeds much of London,” he said when he could make himself heard again.
“I’ve never seen so many strawberries in one place before.”
“I should have stopped and bought you some.”
She shook her head. “Soon we’ll have the real thing, from the country. We had a garden at Haxby, and I grew strawberries and raspberries in it.”
“I liked the sweet peas,” he said, recalling the tranquil space where he’d spent hours talking to Gates. He would be a sad loss to the estate as well as to his daughter. Marcus would do his best to console her. She was bound to have a renewal of grief when she saw what was left of their home. But he would not take her until next month. They had earned their holiday from everything except each other. The house he was taking her to was a small gem in the countryside—modern, airy, and full of light colors and summer furniture.
He wanted to see her lying against the silks of the bedcovers in the bedroom. Preferably naked.
His mouth went dry when he recalled the vision of her. He had never known a woman more generous with her body or so adventurous. “I must be completely idiotic, because I never realized how utterly beautiful you are. Why did I not see it before?”
“You needed your eyes opened,” she said. “Which I did. I always knew how handsome you are. But I didn’t know how wonderful your body felt against mine. At that point, I decided to do everything I could to hold you, but I did not know anything.”
“You’re a fast learner.”
He would have drawn her closer, except the coach stopped with a jerk. He glanced out of the window. They had stopped outside a busy inn.
Throwing up the window, he bellowed, “Why have we stopped? It surely isn’t time to change the horses?”
“No, my lord, but I’m not happy with the rear wheel,” the coachman yelled back. “It doesn’t seem completely steady to me. I’d rather ensure it was safe now before we cross the Heath. I don’t want to have to stop there.”
The Heath was far too dangerous to stop and mend a broken wheel. “Very well. See if there is a private room available, will you?”
The footman hared off, returning with the welcome news that a private parlor awaited them.
“How long will it take you?” he asked the coachman.
“Hardly any time at all,” the man said. “I don’t think anything is seriously wrong, but I want to check the axle.”
“I see.” He shrugged, making the gesture dramatic. “Then let us know when you have done. I’m anxious to be well on the way before we have to stop for the night.”
“Yes, my lord.” The coachman tugged his forelock absently, his attention already on the errant wheel.
The room proved to be a small parlor at the back with a very small window that had not been uncovered from the night before. Candles flickered on the tables and in the sconces. As they entered, the occupants of the parlor rose.
They appeared a parcel of ruffians, their clothes worn and nondescript. But instead of recoiling and taking Viola out of danger, Marcus strode forward and took the hand of the dark-haired tall man. He hauled him into his arms. “Ivan, my friend, thank you fo
r doing this. And you.” He turned to his other cousin. “Tony, I can’t believe your new wife allowed you to come to help.”
Now her eyes had become accustomed to the light, she recognized Darius and Val amongst the company.
Antoninus shrugged. “She said I was not to hurt myself, or she would hurt whoever did this to me.” Turning to Viola, he executed a bow. “Antoninus, Earl of Hollinhead at your service. I’m the younger brother of Nicephorus. Tony and Nick to you.”
“But you have an earldom?” Usually only the eldest son in a family held a title.
“My wife’s father held the title, and the crown was good enough to invest me with it, once I married her. I was perfectly happy as Major Antoninus Beaumont, but I fell in love with a woman with a past.”
“Another couple in love?” Viola said.
“It appears to be a fatal trait in the Emperors.” Tony heaved a theatrical sigh. “I fear for the unmarried cousins.”
Marcus slapped his cousins on the back. “I appreciate this.”
Val and Darius grinned.
“Our pleasure,” Darius said. “A great pleasure.”
“And I’m supposed to remove my clothes in front of you great hulking men in this tiny room?” Viola demanded, hands on hips.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize this room would be so small.” He had not. Would the landlord give them another room?
Viola was already undressing. But even when she stripped off the jacket and skirt she was perfectly correctly attired. Except for the lack of a hoop. She surprised Marcus when she turned the skirt upside down and pulled at a thread. The hem came down. “I sewed it roughly last night,” she said. “I assumed none of you would be my height. You will have to stoop when you climb back in the coach. So who is to be me?”
Ivan waved at her. He was the shortest of the group, which was not saying much. The Emperors had considerable height, all of them.
Dilemma in Yellow Silk (Emperors of London) Page 23
