A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides

by Diana Quincy

  Our daughter. “Yes.” She kept her voice even. “Have you had many occasions to see her?”

  “Not many.” He smiled softly. “But she makes her presence known when I do see her.”

  She leaned forward. “How so?”

  “She is very engaging, bright, and amusing. Cosmo and Mari are completely entranced by her.” He finished his ale in one final long swallow. “I never thought of your brother as the paternal sort, but clearly I was mistaken.”

  She hesitated. “Perhaps you also would take to being a father, should that come to pass.”

  “No.” He gave a resolute shake of his head. “I will never be a father.”

  “One never knows,” she said with forced lightness despite the choking sensation in her chest. “You have only to look at Cosmo. He is not Susanna’s blood father.”

  His expression grew more serious. “You don’t have to fear that she will suffer the lack of a blood father. He loves her as much as any father could love a child.”

  As much as you could love her? She gazed into the unlit hearth. If she told him the truth about his daughter now, he would insist on wedding her, even if it was the last thing he wanted. I know now that there is no place in my life for a wife or a family. She couldn’t bear the idea of her and their child being an obligation he didn’t want.

  And yet, he had a right to know about his child even if he did find the news distressing. She focused on her plate and took a bite of fried potatoes. She was too exhausted, and her thoughts too frayed, to determine the correct course of action.

  She was honor bound to tell Will the truth, but it was all more than she could cope with at the moment. For now, she would concentrate on reaching home and reuniting with her child. And then she would decide how to tell Will what he needed to know, that he already had a family—whether he wanted one or not.

  —

  He surprised her after supper with a bath. She watched with delighted surprise as the servants dragged in the wooden hip bath and filled it with buckets of steaming water. They left two full buckets by the tub before leaving them alone again.

  “It will be such a relief to wash the dust from the road,” she said, pulling the pins from her upswept hair and shaking the honey-colored strands loose.

  His blood moved faster at the sight. And the image in his mind of her long limbs and pert breasts wet and glistening with soap and water was almost too much to bear. “I’ll wait in the corridor until you’ve had your bath,” he said, eager for escape.

  She frowned. “You said yourself that we should keep to our chamber so as not to be noticed.”

  He felt himself flush. “I can hardly remain in your company while you bathe.”

  One of her arched brows rose, and an expression of amusement marked her patrician features. “You’re blushing.”

  “Nonsense.” He turned away and went to the window, cursing inwardly at his fair coloring for giving him away. “I am merely trying to be gentlemanly.”

  “I’ll be quick about it,” she said in a resolute voice that suggested she’d come to a decision. “You can remain as you are, with your back to me.”

  Appalled by the thought, he faced her. “You expect me to remain here while you disrobe and bathe?” He’d never survive it.

  She tilted her head with a small smile. “It is not as though you haven’t seen it before.”

  “Yes it is,” he objected. “You retained your chemise and stockings when I searched your clothing.” He immediately regretted voicing his concerns out loud because visions of her in the transparent chemise with those garters made him lightheaded.

  “No, before that. At the pond.”

  “Just so. That night when we were…ah…together, it was dark and you did not disrobe completely.”

  “Don’t be so stuffy.” She advanced and gave her back to him, holding her hair up with both hands. “I will need some assistance with these buttons.”

  The scent of flowers and warm skin floated over him. “Being a gentleman is hardly the same as being stuffy.” He swallowed hard, battling the urge to put his lips at the nape of her long, graceful neck. How was it that after days on the road, she still smelled of violets instead of the stink and filth that surely clung to him?

  He fumbled his way through the buttons—tiny and far too many—trying not to touch her through her dress or to feel the heat of her skin. He then made quick work of her stays, unlacing them before she bothered to ask. “There. All done.”

  “My thanks.” She gave a pert smile and gestured with one hand while holding her dress up with the other. “Now turn around and don’t look until I say so.”

  He spun around and almost hit the window in his haste. He removed his spectacles and cleaned them. Replacing them on his nose, he tried to focus on the scene below him rather than the imagined one behind him. The rustling of clothes was quickly followed by a small splash and then an audible moan of pleasure.

  “Oh, this is heavenly,” she practically crooned. “I never thought I’d be clean again.”

  He tried not to think about the fact that she was now wet, naked, and—good Lord—moaning, just a few feet from where he stood. She splashed around a little more, and it didn’t take much imagination to picture her running soapy hands down each leg, over each breast, down between the apex…

  He scrubbed the erotic image from his mind and peered hard outside. But it was late and, unfortunately, the empty street offered few distractions. After a few more minutes of listening to slapping water and satisfied sighs, she spoke.

  “I’m going to need your assistance.”

  “Oh?” He was afraid to ask.

  “I’ve washed my hair and I need some help rinsing it. This hip bath is so small that if I do it myself, I’m likely to spill all over the floor.”

  He removed his spectacles again and swiped a frustrated hand down his face.

  “Will?” she ventured when he didn’t answer.

  “Oh, very well,” he said, piqued.

  “I am ready,” she said in a quiet voice from behind him.

  He inhaled what air he could into his constricted lungs and turned around. And all the air whooshed out of him again. She sat in the shallow hip bath with her knees tucked into her chest, and her arms wrapped tightly around them, and her chin resting on her knees. There were long expanses of smooth pale skin, and long lithe limbs, but at least she’d managed to cover her most private of bits. He shook himself from his stupor and placed his spectacles by the bedside before going to her. He picked up the bucket in a brisk manner, anxious to get this torture over and done with.

  “Well, then?” he asked abruptly. “Ready?”

  She nodded from her huddled position. He poured a steady stream of water over her shampooed hair.

  “You’ll need to use your hands to help get the soap out,” she offered unhelpfully.

  He swallowed a curse and gave himself over to the task, pouring the water with his right hand while raking his fingers through her wet, soapy strands with the other. He massaged her scalp, occasionally brushing her bare smooth shoulders. His prick gave up the battle to behave, growing warm and heavy between his legs. He focused on his task while trying to ignore his rising body temperature and general discomfort. “Elle?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said earlier that you’ve been in love with me for half your life.”

  She stiffened. “What of it?” she said after a moment, weariness leaking into her tone. “You’ve always known that I loved you unreservedly. But you dismissed my devotion as the silly imaginings of a young infatuated girl.”

  “You said you’ve been in love with me half your life,” he repeated. “You did not use the past tense.”

  She’d gone very still, and then a shudder moved through her. “You’ll think me very silly, but that is the truth of it.”

  He stared at her glistening pale shoulders and the nape of her slender neck. Her face remained cradled in her crossed arms, hidden from his view. “You are wrong.”
>
  Her head came up and she glared at him over her shoulder. “Do you still believe this is some girlish infatuation?”

  He shook his head. “I meant to say I do not think you are silly.”

  She covered her pink-stained face with her hands. “You don’t have to say anything further. I shouldn’t have unburdened myself.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He inhaled deeply to ease the strangled feeling in his throat, but it didn’t help. “I’m honored. Truly I am.”

  “I know you don’t feel the same way.”

  “You’re wrong again.”

  She kept her face averted and spoke in a cool voice. “If you’re done rinsing my hair, you can step away now.”

  A fierce, painful longing throbbed in his chest. “The truth is my heart is so absolutely devoted to you that I can truly see no other woman, try as I might.” He placed a tender hand on her damp shoulder. “And believe me, I have attempted to do so these many years when I believed you lost to me forever.”

  She sat very still, her eyes downcast. His heart thumped hard in the silence weighting the chamber. Then her hand came up to touch his, her finely tapered fingers interlacing with his. His heart took flight as he tightened his hand around hers and brought his lips to her glistening shoulder, pressing them against the warm, damp skin. Her hand slipped around to cup his head, drawing him to her. He mouthed her shoulder, brushing his lips over to her neck where he licked the moisture and suckled the spot with all tenderness.

  He felt the shudder that ran through her, followed by the slight heave of her narrow shoulders and an inelegant muffled sob. She was crying.

  His chest constricted. “Please don’t, Elle.” He shifted around to the side of the metal hip bath and took her into his arms to offer what comfort he could, cocooning her in the warmth of his body and the strength of his embattled love for her. Her arms came up to cling tightly to his neck, and she pressed herself to his chest. Emotion spun through him. How many nights had he yearned to hold her in his arms again?

  He came to his feet, bringing her with him because he wanted no further barriers between them. Water splashed and slopped everywhere as he slipped his arms under her knees and swept her out of the bath. She clung to him, her face pressed into his shoulder. He carried her to the bed and set her gently down upon it.

  “How is it even possible?” she murmured through her tears, searching his face as he leaned over her. “That you have loved me all these years?”

  “How could I not?” He bent to kiss away the flood of tears on her red, blotched face and experienced a powerful need to reveal his true heart to her as she had just done. He could do no less. “Loving you is not a choice. It is the strongest urge I have ever known. One that is completely beyond my power.”

  A renewed surge of moisture streamed down her cheeks. He couldn’t bear to see her overwrought and know he was the cause of it. He came down on the bed beside her, taking her into his arms.

  He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “Please don’t cry, my love.”

  She let out another sob that sounded like a snort. “I am an inelegant crier.”

  He smiled against her hair, inhaling the lavender scent of the soap that clung to her damp skin. “You? Inelegant? Impossible.” She shivered in his arms, and he cursed himself for not remembering she was wet and could catch a chill.

  He jumped up and grabbed the drying cloth. Coming back to her, he passed it gently over her shoulders, wiping her slender arms one by one. He brought the cloth to her breasts and rubbed them gently dry, watching their pink peaks harden into little pearls he longed to take into his mouth.

  He swallowed hard, not bothering to try to contain the rapid swelling between his legs. Now that he’d refused to deny what was in his heart, he would not pretend he didn’t desire her physically in the fiercest way.

  Chapter 13

  A flush spread through Elle’s body as she watched Will’s gentle ministrations—her body naked and vulnerable, his larger, clothed form bending over her as he dried her chilled skin.

  Her emotions were in a tangle. He loved her still. Had always loved her. It was impossible.

  “I am not as I was,” she said, suddenly realizing no man had seen her thus since she’d given birth. She watched him move the cloth over her breasts, massaging lightly as he dried them. She caught her breath at the tingles of pleasure that streamed down to the deepest part of her belly.

  “You are more beautiful than ever.”

  “A woman’s form changes after she gives birth.” Her eyes went to the small pouch of loose flesh at her belly. She didn’t regret it. Susanna was well worth everything.

  “The change adds to your beauty.” He let the towel fall away. She no longer had need of it; her body was broiling under his gaze. His large, warm hand slid down over her waist to caress her belly. “It speaks of your life experience.”

  His mouth replaced his hands, touching her stomach with a sense of awe that made her belly quiver. His lips trailed up her body, kissing and caressing her sensitive flesh, from her belly button, across her sternum, to the underside of her breast, before his mouth closed over the pert tip and suckled hard. Sensation shot through her, and she arched into it. His hand stroked down her body in a motion that was both gentling and possessive, asserting his claim to her, while worshipping every inch of her skin.

  She watched his fingers slide lower, to the secret place between her legs. She felt him parting her sensitive folds, and when he stroked her she almost cried out.

  “Every part of you is beautiful to me.” She closed her eyes and moaned, desperate for his touch. He found the place where so much of her pleasure was centered and circled it, rubbing gently. “How can you not see how lovely you are?”

  Coming up to lean her body weight back on her elbows, she forced her eyes open to watch the play of his fingers moving between her legs, probably the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Hot need vibrated from every cell in her body.

  Then his hands were gone, and before she could protest he’d moved her body, positioning her so that her bottom was at the edge, her legs dangling over the side of the bed. Confused, she sat up. He knelt on the floor before her and draped each of her legs over his shoulders before burying his face between her thighs.

  She cried out as his tongue touched her sensitive folds. She remained sitting upright, mesmerized by the sight of his dark copper-covered head between her legs, his tongue and teeth suckling her folds, nipping and teasing, pushing her into a delirium of pleasure. She buried her fingers in his tousled curls, holding him to her, as unbearable pressure built within her body. Heat consumed her, and the world narrowed to the need wracking her body and Will’s complete devotion to tending to her body’s desires.

  She arched and cried out when the tension broke. Blissful waves pulsated through her, and she fell back against the mattress in a boneless state of contentment, a heady sensation rushing though her blood. She smiled, her thoughts in a pleasant haze, grateful that Will was as skillful at finding the key to a woman’s pleasure as he was at picking locks.

  —

  Urgent need throbbed down the hard length of Will’s prick. With Elle’s musky taste still on his tongue, he stripped off his waistcoat, groaning at the vision of her lissome form spread naked before him, beckoning like an earthy angel with a soft radiant smile lighting her face. Her legs were still parted from when he’d feasted on her, her intimate parts bared to his gaze, the plump, pink flesh guarded by a damp, glistening soft triangle of fur. A powerful need to bury himself deep inside her shook him to his core.

  But he was filthy from the road and refused to subject her to the rank odors of his unwashed male skin, layered as it was with sweat, dust, and the smell of horses. He turned toward the bath she’d abandoned. The water would have cooled by now, but his body was aflame and he welcomed the relief.

  “Will?” He turned back as Elle pushed up to a sitting position, with her knees still dangling over the edge of the bed and crosse
d one knee over the other in a ladylike pose at odds with the miles of bare skin and shapely limbs. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed. Her honey-colored hair fell in tousled waves about her shoulders. Her breasts, soft, round, and pert, made his throat go dry. “Come to bed.”

  “I am begrimed.” He watched with avid interest as she stood, bare as the day she was born, and walked to him. “I must bathe.”

  “By all means.” She put her arms around his neck and pressed her warm lips against his. He could feel the warm softness of her breasts through his thin linen shirt. “And I intend to assist you as you’ve assisted me.”

  She pulled his shirt over his head and seemed to marvel for a moment at the sprinkling of dark copper hair on his chest. He sat on the bed to remove his boots and rose to divest himself of his breeches and smallclothes.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured appreciatively, pushing him back onto the bed, coming down on top of him.

  “Elle, I am not fit to lie with you in this state,” he said huskily as his hands roamed over the swells of her buttocks and squeezed. “I carry the dust and dirt from the road.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Trembling at the thought of moving inside her again, Will couldn’t find the strength to argue. Instead, he caught her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her palm, his mouth lingering against her satiny skin. “This is the way to madness.”

  She ran her hands through his hair. “Why should we not enjoy each other? You are not married and I am no innocent.”

  He stared into her clear eyes. “Do you want this, Elle? Truly? We are under much pressure. Perhaps you will later regret seeking comfort in this way.”

  “I will not be sorry. I want this more than almost anything.” She cradled his face in her hands and leaned over to touch her lips to his. He opened and took her in, his tongue stroking hers in slow sensual movements.

  He put his arms around her waist and sat her at his hips, his member pressing against her bottom. He massaged her breasts, toying with the pert ends, squeezing and fondling the sensitive flesh.