Mary and the Marquis

by Janice Preston

  ‘Thank you, Lucas. I shall be delighted to accept your invitation. And there will be no need for Trant to remain. Even you would not attempt to seduce me over the dining table.’ She paused for effect, then cocked her head to one side and raised her brows. ‘Would you?’

  He grinned. Threw his head back and laughed. Then, before she knew it, his hands were at her waist and her feet flew out as he swung her in a circle, planting a kiss on her lips as he set her on the ground again.

  ‘Now I can boast I swept you off your feet, Mary Vale,’ he chuckled as he disappeared inside the house, leaving Mary staring after him in bewilderment.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucas hummed as he tied his neckcloth into an intricate knot. He had not felt this buoyant in a long, long time. Finally, the future was not to be viewed with dread, but with anticipation and purpose. It was a future where, he hoped, Mary would be by his side, as his wife. But he would not ask her to marry him.

  Not tonight.

  Not yet.

  Not for two more days, in fact, for only then would Mary understand she had a viable alternative future. And only then would Lucas know for certain she stayed because she loved him and not because she had nowhere else to go.

  Two days in which to woo her. Two days in which to build his relationship with the children and to prove to Mary as well as to himself he could be a father to them. That afternoon had shown him a glimpse of the future: joining in the children’s game; having fun. Rob had been right. He was not his father and he chose not to be like his father. He felt as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

  As he walked down the staircase he wondered how easy it would be to hide what he had discovered from Mary. Not easy at all, he suspected: she was very perceptive and already wondered at the change in him. He would look forward to her pleasure and surprise when she discovered his secret. He entered the new dining room and looked around with satisfaction. Mary had been right, it was cosy and intimate and it provided exactly the right ambience for a special evening with the woman he loved.

  A light footstep behind him alerted him to Mary’s presence a split second before her scent registered, permeating his senses. He turned, drinking in her calm beauty and her warm smile.

  ‘Good evening, Mary. You look very beautiful tonight.’

  He held out his arm. She smiled up at him as she placed her hand on his sleeve.

  ‘I thank you for the compliment, Lucas, even though I know I am not beautiful.’

  ‘You are beautiful to me. What other kind of beauty is there, other than in the eye of the beholder?’

  ‘You look very fine as well, Lucas, if I may say so.’

  ‘Why, thank you, although I dare say any old set of clothes would be an improvement on my nightshirt.’

  Mary laughed. ‘Indeed it would.’

  As Lucas seated her at the table, she glanced over her shoulder. ‘I do hope you intend to enlighten me as to what happened on your trip to Hexham, for I find it hard to believe all this bonhomie is solely due to receiving a good price for your livestock.’

  Lucas took his seat opposite Mary and signalled to Trant to begin serving. He waited until he had finished and exited the room before answering.

  ‘You have seen the state of the accounts, Mary, and I told you the other day a little of the reality of the estate finances.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘I took a gamble...’ He paused. Mary had stiffened, at his words. Mayhap she did not approve of gambling? He realised how much he still had to learn about the woman opposite. He wanted to spend the rest of his life exploring every aspect of her mind and her body. ‘I do not mean I was literally gambling. It was an unfortunate turn of phrase.’

  She relaxed, though her eyes were still wary. She gestured for him to continue.

  ‘When my father died, I discovered not only had he run the estate into the ground, but he had taken a substantial loan on the most ruinous of terms. The loan was secured against a large tract of land on the far side of the village. That land is the most fertile, but is also the only unentailed land on the estate. If I were to lose it...well, it would mean disaster. The estate would not be viable without external funds to support it. And I do not have any external funds.

  ‘It was a three-year loan, with one third of the capital repayable every Christmas. If, at any time, I cannot meet the repayment or pay the interest, I lose all that land.’

  Mary frowned. ‘When did your father take out the loan?’

  ‘Nigh on three years ago, less than a year before he died. The final payment is due this Christmas, but I will soon have enough money to settle it and I will finally be clear. It has been like the sword of Damocles hanging above my head over the past two years. Hence my bonhomie, as you put it.’

  He grinned at her across the table, but her expression was still puzzled.

  ‘You cannot mean that if you are unable to make the repayment this year, you would still lose all of that land?’

  ‘I mean exactly that. There is a clause in the agreement that forbids the sale of the land whilst it is indentured, so it has not been possible to sell even a small portion of it to raise funds.’

  ‘But...you would already have paid back the majority of the loan. That cannot be fair.’

  ‘I’m afraid it does not need to be fair, Mary. It is business. My father accepted the terms of the loan—presumably in order to gamble it away, for it was not used for improvements to the land or the house. Heaven knows what he did with it, or how he thought to repay it, or whether he even had any intention to repay it.

  ‘Now, though, I can finally breathe easily. That gamble I spoke of has paid off handsomely.’

  Mary raised her brows.

  ‘Soon after I inherited the Hall, I travelled into Yorkshire to invest in some top quality rams and bulls to breed with our sheep and cows. Now, not only did we sell our fat stock for a good price, but the surplus breeding animals we took also sold well. It is the Quarter Day tomorrow, when the tenant farmers’ rents are due, plus there is an interested buyer coming to see more breeding stock for sale the day after tomorrow.

  ‘All of that should be enough to enable me to pay the interest that falls due tomorrow as well as the final instalment of the loan at Christmas, and I can then begin to rebuild the estate and improve the land. The few tenant farmers still with the estate have been patient with the delays in repairs, but I know they have suffered as well. I cannot tell you of my relief, to know all the hard work and worry is beginning to pay off.’

  Lucas laughed, a touch shamefacedly. ‘I am sorry, Mary, for boring you with business as well as talking about breeding animals. It is hardly the topic to discuss over dinner with anyone, let alone with a lady.’

  ‘I do not mind,’ Mary said. ‘I am interested and it is good to see you relax and to hear you laugh.’

  Lucas studied Mary’s earnest expression and felt a wave of emotion so powerful sweep through him he almost gasped. She was everything he could wish for: beautiful, courageous, kind. Why had he ever thought he could let her go? He could no longer even contemplate life without Mary by his side.

  ‘It feels good to laugh,’ he said, speaking from the heart.

  And it felt good to look forward to the future with pleasure. He would use every skill he possessed to ensure Mary accepted his proposal in two days’ time. During the journey to market, he had reconsidered Mary’s words the day he had found Toby at the stables. He believed he now understood what she had been trying to say. She was afraid of being alone with him because she wanted him. The knowledge hummed through every fibre of his being. She was wary of her own feelings, her own responses. He could possess her tonight; he knew that with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise every morning.

  But he drew the line at seducing her into his bed. He could wait. He did not want her to accept his proposal out of shame, having succumbed to his seduction. Her acceptance must be because she loved him and for no other reason. The anticipation would sweet
en the reward.

  Lucas visualised the next two days. He and Mary would grow ever closer as she learned to trust him and to believe in his love. Then his secret would be revealed and he must hope that Mary would forgive his deception and accept his proposal. It was another gamble for, if Mary did not love him, there would be no further obstacle to her returning to her childhood home.

  * * *

  ‘What are you thinking, Mary?’

  She looked up to find him scrutinising her face. She smiled and shook her head.

  ‘A head empty of all thought, eh? Somehow, Mary, I cannot believe that of you.’ He smiled: a slow, sensual smile that sent her heart racing.

  ‘May I pass you the fruit? Or more wine?’

  ‘No, thank you. I have had sufficient.’

  Mary lifted her wineglass, drinking the final mouthful. She savoured the sweet fruitiness before releasing its warmth to trickle through her. It was very palatable, had complemented the desserts and it was helping her to relax—no mean feat with Lucas sitting opposite, hard to resist. She loved to see him relaxed and happy. He was optimistic over the future of the estate and—her heart leapt at the realisation—he had trusted her enough to confide in her about his business.

  Lucas pushed his chair back and stood. She’d never seen him formally dressed before and she studied him, a flutter of anticipation deep inside. Oh, how she wanted him. He was so elegant and handsome, his white shirt and neckcloth in stark contrast to his black long-tailed coat, waistcoat and pantaloons. She felt shabby and unfashionable by comparison, in her borrowed dress.

  He held out his hand. ‘Come. We may as well warm ourselves by the fire in the sitting room.’

  She placed her hand on his palm, revelling in his latent strength as he closed long fingers around hers. Her blood pumped faster as he raised her to her feet and pressed warm, firm lips to her hand before leading her to the small sitting room.

  Every nerve in her body screamed Danger! but she did not resist, even though she was filled alternately with dread and hope. She knew she could delay leaving no longer. This might be their last evening together but, at the same time, her foolish heart still dreamt of a happy ending, of a future where she and the children remained at the Hall as part of Lucas’s life.

  In the sitting room, he turned her to face him. Taking her face between his hands, he tilted her face and gazed down at her, his smile questioning. The musky scent of male enveloped her, interweaving with the faint tang of apple wood from the fire, where the logs burned with a steady glow.

  Mayhap she could not voice her love but, as their eyes fused, she strived to communicate it without words. Surely a few kisses would not hurt? Could she convey her love and trust in such a way? There would be no need to go further.

  Unless...? She played with the notion she had flirted with over the past few days. Why should she not do as her heart desired? She’d had her fill of Sensible Mary. Why should she not experience, even if only for the briefest of times, the passion and the thrill of loving Lucas? She was a widow, not a virgin. She had bricked herself in with rules of her own making. Why should she not break free of her self-imposed restraints and fly free?

  She stepped close to Lucas and pushed her hands beneath his coat. Felt him jerk as she unbuttoned his waistcoat, then splayed her fingers over the solid wall of his chest. The fine linen of his shirt was no barrier to the heat radiating from his body or to the fast, strong beat of his heart. Her own heart beat a thunderous tattoo as it pumped hot blood around her body.

  ‘There is fire in your eyes, my sweet Mary,’ Lucas murmured. His eyes darkened until they were black as coals. His gaze penetrated so deep it felt as though it brushed her very soul. ‘I wonder? Is there fire in your belly, too?’

  His words fanned the flame of her desire. It raced through her veins, shrivelling any residual common sense with its fiery heat as her body’s needs surged to the fore. Her insides seemed to swoop in anticipation as she pressed her body to his. Her lips parted as his dark head lowered. He took her mouth, his lips warm and firm, tasting of wine and his heady, intoxicating flavour. Her soft curves moulded to his hard, muscular body as she rose on to tiptoes, digging urgent fingers into muscular shoulders, then winding frantic arms around his neck, revelling in his stark heat.

  A low groan sounded deep in his chest and reverberated through her body. His shaft was rock-hard against her belly, intensifying her burning need. She pushed eager fingers through his locks, silky and slippery against her skin. Then she was arching over an arm of steel at the small of her back as scorching kisses trailed down her neck and seared her collarbone. Desire sizzled as her knees gave way, seemingly too weak to hold her weight.

  Heavy breasts strained against the thin fabric of her dress, aching for release. His hand cupped her, moulding and squeezing, teasing. She gasped her pleasure, arching back even further, pressing into his touch. A hasty tug at her neckline and one breast sprang free. Her nipple was in his mouth and he suckled fiercely. She cried out and again as his thigh slid between her legs, parting them to press against her engorged flesh. She moved involuntarily against his hard muscle, needing him with an urgency that banished all else from her mind.

  ‘Mary,’ he groaned, holding her secure as her bones and muscles dissolved. ‘Mary, I...’

  She shivered as his mouth left her breast and his breath wafted over her damp skin.

  ‘Nooo...!’ She prised heavy lids open. Why had he stopped? She felt him tense.

  ‘Quickly, sit there.’ His voice was urgent; he was tugging her dress into place as he pushed her towards the chair by the fire.

  She collapsed into the chair and watched, confused, as he took two long strides to gaze intently at a landscape on the wall.

  What...?

  Resentment swelled, until the rattle of cups outside the door penetrated the sensual haze that still enveloped her. She sat bolt upright, fingers clutching at the arms of the chair. What if Ellen—for it was she who had entered the room, carrying the tea tray—had had steadier hands? She would have come into the room to find... Heat scorched Mary’s cheeks. Never in her married life had she lost herself in the moment quite so thoroughly.

  Her whole body still vibrated with need. Unfulfilled, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into Lucas’s arms and beg him to take her. She stared into the flames and concentrated on breathing: in...out...in...out...

  ‘What are you doing?’ His amused voice broke into her near trance.

  She looked up. ‘Concentrating.’

  The room behind Lucas was empty, the door closed. They were alone again.

  ‘On...?’

  Not throwing myself into your arms. ‘I cannot do this. I must not. I am sorry. I...’

  A dull ache spread through her as misery ripped at her heart. Lucas knelt in front of her and she shuddered at the warmth of his touch as he clasped her hands and pressed his lips to each one in turn.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m sorry...I don’t know why...I want...but I can’t...’ Her throat was thick with despair.

  ‘Mary!’ He tightened his grip on her hands, shaking them in an effort, she dimly realised, to interrupt her disjointed attempts to explain. ‘It is all right. I understand. You would not be the woman you are, the woman I...I admire...if you threw your principles aside on the strength of a few kisses. I know you do not wish a casual liaison and I have too much respect for you to encourage you to act against your own instinct and morals.’

  Her tight muscles relaxed, but her blood still pumped hot. She could almost wish she had not been as honest with Lucas. Then she could... No. To think that way was surely madness. Could she live with herself were she to act with so little self-respect?

  ‘Thank you for your understanding.’

  He held her gaze, his ebony eyes clear and sincere. ‘I do understand, Mary, though I—’ His jaw snapped shut and he surged to his feet, reached out his hands. ‘I must say no more or, despite my fine sentiments, I shall be in danger of
trying to coax you after all.’

  Mary took his hands and he pulled her upright. ‘Would you like a cup of that tea?’

  She shook her head, mute.

  ‘Then I think it for the best if we both retire.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucas lay awake, restless and unfulfilled. He scanned the room, dimly lit by the embers of the fire, for the umpteenth time.

  This is what you get for acting the gentleman!

  He ached for Mary. His fingertips still tingled with the memory of her silky-soft skin; the taste of her lingered in his mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in a fantasy of Mary in his arms, in his bed, but it was futile.

  The bed was too lumpy; the pillow too flat; the room too hot.

  He ripped off his nightshirt and cast it across the room. His skin felt too tight. His blood still surged. And he...he wanted. With a savage curse, he threw back the covers and strode to the window, hauled open the curtains and threw up the sash. The night air blasted over his skin. He sighed, staring mindlessly at the moonlit landscape. He shivered. Crashed the window shut. He had dealt with the heat, but...

  ‘Can you not sleep either?’

  He whipped round, stared, incredulous. Every sinew, every muscle, every cell locked tight. His heart thundered.

  Mary.

  Here.

  Was she real? Or had his tortured imagination somehow...?

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  Other questions, more pertinent, clamoured to be voiced, but he seemed incapable of forming the words. His heart leapt into his throat at the unbearably erotic glimpses of her naked feet beneath the hem of her full-length nightshift as she glided towards him with silent steps.

  She stopped a foot away, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Her scent enveloped him.

  Mary.

  He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.

  ‘Why...? I thought...’

  ‘Hush.’ She leaned back, searching his face. ‘I could not sleep either. I want you. It is as simple, and as complicated, as that.’