Lady Beauchamp's Proposal

by Secret Cravings Publishing

  He closed his eyes and hissed in a sharp breath. “Careful, my angel. I might just lose myself all over your belly like a randy youth.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she whispered and then kissed the column of his throat where his pulse throbbed just beneath the skin. She inhaled, the spicy scent of him and his hot arousal making her head spin like she had just consumed a glass of whisky all at once.

  “Take me, James,” she breathed. “I’m yours.”

  * * * *

  Beth’s naked, blatant demand set Rothsburgh trembling with need. Confounded woman. He would come all over her if she kept this up.

  He growled deeply in his throat as Beth’s lips made hot contact with his neck again, and he ruthlessly positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock brushing her slick sex. God, how he loved how wet she was. For him. He couldn’t wait to be inside her, to at last make the connection between them complete. To make them one in the most basic, primal of ways.

  He slid in, to the hilt in one long smooth movement, relishing her gasp against his neck, and the hot welcoming clench of her inner passage around him. He gritted his teeth and prayed for the strength to make this experience last, to make it memorable for both of them. He loved this woman with every shuddering breath that he took, with every beat of his pounding heart, and now that he knew Beth loved him too, the sensation of joining with her was profound. He felt like he was communing with her very soul.

  He rested on his forearms, holding still within her for a long moment and looked down at her beautiful face—the tousled halo of ash blonde hair, her flushed cheeks and her slightly parted lips, swollen and slick from his earlier kisses. Her eyes were closed, but as he continued to remain still, watching her, her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him.

  “What is it?” she whispered, the soft grey of her eyes darkening a little as she reached up to brush a lock of his hair away from his brow.

  He locked eyes with her, wanting her to understand how much she meant to him. “I love you, Beth. With everything that I am. Now and always. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  He wanted to say more, but all at once, he couldn’t fight the overwhelmingly powerful urge to move within her. He slowly began to withdraw, prolonging the delicious agonizing friction.

  Beth moaned and the greedy grasp of inner passage grew tighter around his shaft as if she couldn’t bear him to leave her body.

  He hovered for one brief, breathless moment at her entrance, and then plunged into her satiny heat again, reveling in the hot gasp of her breath against his chest. Drew out again with lingering slowness, then swiftly thrust into her again, deeper, harder. Claiming her as his.

  “You’re mine,” he groaned.

  “Yes,” Beth hissed and angled her hips upwards to take more of him. “Yours.”

  His heart surged and he dipped his head, plundering her mouth with lips and tongue, feasting on the dark honeyed recess of her mouth as again he slid out before slamming back into her.

  My Beth. My love. My life’s blood.

  She moaned into his mouth and seized his buttocks with her hands. “Again. Harder.”

  He couldn’t resist. He clenched his jaw tightly, willing himself not to come too soon as he began to increase the exquisite rhythmic pace of thrust and withdrawal. He would give anything to do this all morning, all day, hell forever if he could, to sustain this deep connection as he plunged in and out of Beth, to gaze down on her flushed face, her eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded with deep arousal; to hear her short panting breaths and rhythmic moans as he steadily drove her higher and higher toward climax. He could feel her sheath beginning to quiver and clench. His balls were agony, his head dizzy with need as he continued to pound into her.

  Selfish brute that he was though, he wanted her with him as they both reached their peak. “Look at me,” he demanded on a ragged, hoarse breath.

  Her eyes immediately focused on him, the grey becoming as clear and bright as moonlight on water, despite her frantic, agitated state. Her hands slid to his sweat-slick shoulders and her fingers dug into him, seeking purchase against the relentless rhythm he’d set as she strove to keep her gaze fastened with his.

  He thrust harder, faster, hurtling them both toward the edge of the storm. “Tell me…” Another merciless thrust. “You’re mine.”

  “Yes, James,” she gasped her eyes flashing like silver. She arched beneath him. “Yours”’

  And then she came, clamping around him so hard, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He cried out in fierce elation, his voice merging with her own exultant cry as together they soared through the passionate tempest of their own making, before descending into the waiting arms of pure, unadulterated release.

  He collapsed on top of her, flesh to flesh, heart to heart, soul to soul. Inhaled Beth’s heady essence deep into his lungs as he felt the gentle quakes within her womb subside. He’d found heaven with Beth. And he would never let her go again.

  And then she moved a little beneath him and his mind jolted with shock at the realization that he was still inside her. He’d forgotten himself and had pumped her womb full of his seed.

  God, no.

  When they’d started this affair, he’d promised Beth that he would take care, that he wouldn’t get her with child. But just now, he’d been so caught up in the moment, he hadn’t been able to see past his own selfish need. And he’d failed her.

  But underneath the self-recrimination, he also detected the emergence of a quiet wonder as he suddenly imagined Beth growing ripe and luscious with a swollen, pregnant belly. He could think of no greater gift than Beth bearing his child.

  But would she see it that way?

  He couldn’t marry Beth. That meant he wouldn’t be able to give their child his name. And he instinctively knew that Beth wouldn’t want their baby to suffer the ignominy of bastardy.

  Oh Christ. What have I done?

  He raised himself onto his forearms and his eyes traced over her perfect features; her eyes were closed and there was a gentle smile on her lips. Shattering her afterglow was the last thing he wanted to do. But he had to.

  He forced himself to speak. “Beth…”

  * * * *

  At the sound of her name, Elizabeth pried open her drowsy eyelids and smiled up at James. She could lie like this all day, in his warm embrace. It was absolute bliss.

  Or it would be, if it wasn’t for the tense expression on James’s face. His dark eyes were troubled and a muscle flickered in his cheek as he stared down at her.

  Her heart clenched. They’d just shared the most earth-shattering, loving sex one could ever hope for. What could possibly be wrong?

  “James?” she whispered, unable to mask the uncertainty in her voice. Whatever he was going to say, it clearly wasn’t good. “Tell me what’s the matter?”

  He searched her eyes. Swallowed. “Beth…I wasn’t careful…I forgot to withdraw…I’m so sorry, my love.”

  Oh.

  No, he hadn’t. She could still feel him inside her and the stickiness of his seed between her legs. She had been so swept away and then so deeply satisfied by James’s lovemaking, that she hadn’t noticed at all.

  James continued. “I understand if you’re angry. I’ve broken my promise to you—”

  “Shhh.” She placed a finger on his lips. “I’m not angry. It will be all right. I…I never became pregnant during my marriage. Not that I ever had intercourse very much. But I’ve always suspected that I’m barren.”

  “But you don’t know that for certain. What if I get you with child?”

  How would she feel? Until this moment she had never really considered it. She stroked James’s deliciously messy hair away from his damp, furrowed brow and studied his tense, handsome face. If she was truly honest with herself, the idea of bearing this wonderful man a son or daughter filled her with a strange poignant joy rather than horror.

  “Then I will love our child, come what may,” she replied softly. “Because it is yours
and I love you. We will work out what to do…if such a miracle ever happens. I trust you, James.”

  James’s eyes suddenly became bright with the sheen of tears. “God, you are an amazing woman, Beth.” His voice was thick with emotion. “The angels were smiling on me the day you crossed my doorstep.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her softly until her toes curled.

  When he broke the kiss, he sought her gaze again. His expression firmed. “Know this Beth, if we should have a child together, I will talk to the best legal minds in the land. I will do whatever I can to make sure our child is provided for, even if he or she can never bear my name.” He took another breath. This time when he spoke, his voice shook a little. “And I swear that one day, I will marry you.”

  Elizabeth’s heart swelled with so much love, she thought it might burst as she recognized the strength of James’s conviction. He would stand by her, no matter what the future had in store. He must truly love her.

  She swallowed and fought back sudden tears of joy. Her voice when it emerged was husky with emotion. “That sounds like another proposal of sorts.”

  James’s dark eyes shone as he steadily held her gaze. “It’s more than that, Beth. It’s a vow.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edinburgh, Scotland, November 1815

  “There she is. Helena assured me they would all be out for a walk today.”

  Elizabeth peered through the fine black netting shrouding her face, in the direction James had indicated, toward the eastern gate of the Queen Street Gardens. Even after a month of being in Edinburgh, she still didn’t feel comfortable showing her face in public in case anyone that she knew from her former life recognized her. The ton had eyes and ears everywhere, even this far north, of that she was absolutely certain. And as much as she longed to throw back her veil so she could clearly see the little blonde girl ahead, she just couldn’t take the risk. Not when she had found so much happiness in her new life with James.

  He was everything to her.

  James tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm, then gently urged her forward along the path strewn with dark sodden leaves, toward the small group headed their way—three small children, the youngest tucked into a pile of blankets in an elaborate perambulator, two plainly dressed women who were most likely nurse and governess, and a liveried footman—carrying a doll in the crook of his arm—trailing behind.

  Even though it was cold enough to make their breath turn to mist, the afternoon held fair; a rare occurrence for a late autumn day in Edinburgh, James had informed her, when they had first set out on foot from her newly rented, beautifully appointed townhouse in nearby Herriot Row. Indeed, over the last few weeks since they had quit Dundee for the capital, it had rained nearly every day.

  Not that Elizabeth had minded overly much, if at all. Not when she had spent long lazy days at home with James, talking, laughing, reading and making love whenever they fancied.

  Of course, they had braved the elements on occasions. Soon after their arrival in town, James had insisted on taking her to a series of private appointments with Edinburgh’s finest modistes and milliners along the Royal Mile in the Old Town. But aside from all of the exquisite silk, satin, velvet and fine woolen gowns, and other fripperies he had lavished on her, and that she could only wear for him in the privacy of her townhouse, he’d also purchased her a new wardrobe of the finest black garments that guineas and pounds could buy. Although he was not overly happy that she still insisted on wearing widow’s weeds and veiled bonnets in public, he could see the sense in her determination to remain incognito. For now.

  She suddenly shivered. Even though she was perfectly warm in her black merino dress and well-cut matching coat, black kid gloves and walking boots, it wasn’t the icy bite in the air that caused the frisson. She was about to meet James’s daughter.

  Hugh’s daughter.

  James halted their progress beneath a gnarled oak, its bare branches casting strange black fingers of shadow across the strong planes of his face. “I know you’re apprehensive, my love,” he murmured close to her ear. “If you’d prefer to turn back—”

  “No. It’s fine, James,” she said, endeavoring to keep a steady voice. “It’s just that…I’m not sure how I feel to be honest.”

  She paused and glanced up the path. The small party was getting closer; Annabelle was only fifty yards away now. “No, that’s not quite true,” she said turning back to him. “I feel strange.” She tried to smile then, even though her veil must obscure her expression. “I’m also worried that I’ll frighten Annabelle off. She might think I’m a frightful witch dressed like this, all in black.”

  James looked over her shoulder and quickly scanned the park. “There’s no one else here, Beth. It’s a private park. So if it makes you feel better, I’m sure it will be safe to lift your veil.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She began to lift the netting, but James stilled her hands.

  “Wait,” he murmured. “Allow me.”

  He gently raised the veil over her black bonnet, and Elizabeth was so vividly reminded of a groom lifting the veil on his bride, her breath caught in her throat.

  If only it could be so.

  He caught her gaze and a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Remember my vow, Beth,” he said in a low, velvet-soft tone. “One day—”

  A squeal of delight pierced the air. “Papa!” Annabelle was hurtling along the path towards them, her golden blonde curls flying out behind her, the color as bright as the first daffodils of spring.

  James laughed and bent to catch the child who flew into his arms like a small, royal-blue wool clad cannonball, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Annabelle, my bonnie lassie.” He swung her around in his arms and she squealed with laughter again.

  What an extraordinarily beautiful child who looked nothing like James, but exactly like Hugh. Elizabeth blinked away tears, overwhelmed by the sharp pull and prick of conflicting emotions in her heart. Sadness for James and Annabelle, anger at Hugh. Sorrow for herself that if things between her and Hugh had been different, then perhaps she would have been the one to bear him such a lovely child. Not another man’s wife.

  “I’m so sorry…Lord Rothsburgh.” One of the women had rushed over, her cheeks flushed with high color. Then she scowled in admonishment at the giggling child in his arms. “Lady Annabelle, where are your manners?”

  “It’s quite all right, Miss Palmer,” replied James, smiling at the flustered young woman whose entire face then turned beet-red, undoubtedly due to being the recipient of such dazzling regard. “My Lady Annabelle hasn’t seen as much of me as she ought. And such is the exuberance of the very young. I am willing to make allowances on this occasion if you will also.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Miss Palmer curtsied, then cast Elizabeth a small, slightly speculative glance. “My lady.”

  My lady. The governess had assumed she was someone of consequence because of the company she was keeping. Ignoring the tightening knot of unease inside her, Elizabeth tried to keep her expression pleasantly neutral as she inclined her head in acknowledgement. How on earth was James going to introduce her to Annabelle, indeed anyone, in a way that would even sound vaguely acceptable? One didn’t usually introduce one’s mistress to one’s family. And even though she’d been here a month, it wasn’t until today that James had put forward the idea of meeting his daughter.

  She suddenly wondered if James had also informed his brother-in-law and sister, Lord and Lady Maxwell of her presence in Edinburgh. Now that would be highly awkward. It would be better for all concerned if he hadn’t.

  The sound of James’s voice cut through her tangled thoughts. He was addressing the curious governess again. “That will be all for now, Miss Palmer.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  As Miss Palmer turned to go back to her other charges, Annabelle turned her bright, summer blue gaze on Elizabeth. “Papa, is this the lady you’ve been telling me about?”

  James nodded
and continued to smile warmly, obviously unperturbed that he was about to introduce his daughter to his mistress. “Indeed, she is.”

  He bent down and placed Annabelle onto the path beside him. “Annabelle, allow me to introduce my friend, Mrs. Eliott. Mrs. Eliott, may I present my daughter, Lady Annabelle Huntly.”

  Elizabeth swept into a polite curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Annabelle.”

  Annabelle smiled back, a dimple in her cheek. “It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Eliott.” Tipping her head, she then looked up at James. “Papa. She is even prettier than you said. Can she come to visit us at Maxwell House this afternoon?”

  Before he could respond, Annabelle grasped Elizabeth’s hand and began to bounce up and down. “Would you like to share tea with me, Mrs. Eliott? Cook makes the most excellent tea-cake. And I’m sure Uncle Phillip and Aunt Helena wouldn’t mind at all.”

  James ruffled her curls. “Mrs. Eliott is rather busy at present. Perhaps another time, my sweet.”

  Elizabeth sighed inwardly with relief. So he hadn’t mentioned her to his sister or brother-in-law. She cast him a grateful smile and he smiled back, his brown eyes warm with reassurance.

  But Annabelle was pouting. She tugged on Elizabeth’s hand. “Well, at least come and meet my cousins, Charlie and Phillipa, Mrs. Eliott. Although Phillipa is rather grumpy at the moment. Miss MacFarlane, that’s our nurse—although we call her Nanny—she says Phillipa is cutting a tooth. And you must come and see my doll, Miss Miranda. Papa brought her all the way back from Bruges. Fergus is holding her for me.”

  Elizabeth summoned a smile, trying not to notice that Annabelle’s eyes were the exact shade of blue as Hugh’s. “That would be lovely, Lady Annabelle. But perhaps we could take a turn about the park first.”