“I will never hurt you, Eleanor. If you want me to stop, whenever that moment may be, you need just say the word. That control belongs to you and I would never violate that gift.” He touched his nose to hers. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
Love suffused her heart, lifting the organ that had always belonged to him. He would not consummate the marriage unless she ordained that act. Rather, he would wait until she was ready to trust herself to him with this sacred gift. “Oh, Marcus,” she whispered and kissed him.
His body jerked and then he met her mouth in a tender exploration. As he slid his tongue inside, there was no pain or ugliness, but all the glorious desire she’d always known with him. Heat pooled in her belly and spread lower, and an incessant ache built between her legs.
He drew back and she silently cried out at the loss of him but he only moved his mouth, tormenting and tantalizing so that her breath came hard and fast. He worked a path of teasing kisses from her neck, lower, and ever lower to the neckline of her gown. Unhesitant, he placed his lips there and worshiped the skin so the fire grew within, spreading like a fast-building conflagration.
Eyes closed, Eleanor turned herself over to feeling. She breathed in the heady masculine scent that clung to his skin, fixed on his broad, powerful hands as he guided her upright, and then mourned the loss of his questing mouth.
“I want to feel the satiny softness of your skin, to worship you as you should be worshiped,” he said, his whisper a promise.
Tension flickered to life, as he unfastened the pearl row of buttons that ran the back length of her gown. But he placed his hands upon her shoulders and caressed her neck with his lips and desire tamped out all fleeting doubt and fear. Shoving the sleeves of her pink dress down, he slid it past her hips, and Eleanor kicked it aside, exposed, as she’d never been, naked to his gaze.
He studied her through hooded lids and she shifted under the scrutiny. The veiled expression gave no indication of his thoughts and then he spoke in tortured tones. “You are so beautiful, Eleanor. I have longed to know you in this way, in every way, since the moment I saw you smiling on the sidewalk.”
Marcus drew her into his arms and she melted into the hard wall of his chest. Her nipples pebbled against the front of his lawn shirt; the over-sensitized flesh stirred that burning ache between her legs. He cupped her breast in his large, naked hand and she drew in a shuddery breath.
Even in their youth, she’d never known the joy of his hand on her naked person. There was something wicked and wonderful and endlessly beautiful in the intimacy of his touch.
Marcus stilled and peered questioningly at her. He made to withdraw, but Eleanor placed her hand over his and held him close. Their chests moved fast to a matched harmonious beat. Then he leaned down and brushed a faint kiss over the erect nipple and Eleanor drew in a shuddery breath through her teeth.
“M-Marcus…” And lest he do something maddening and foolish like stop, she wound her fingers in the luxuriant, unfashionably long, golden tresses and held him in place, wanting him to continue, needing him to go on forever. And then God help her, he did. He drew the sensitive, swollen tip into his mouth and sucked. Desire mobbed her senses. She undulated against him, desperate to appease the agonizing ache between her thighs. And because Marcus had always known everything there was to know about her, he palmed the soft thatch of curls shielding her womanhood. A long, whimpering moan slipped from her lips, endless, as he delved a finger gently inside, teasing, and caressing so that her whole body was attuned to nothing more than the incessant ache that only Marcus could satisfy. “Marcus, I want…”
Except, she didn’t know what she wanted. For years, she’d believed lovemaking an act of shame and pain, and yet there was only beauty and wonder in Marcus’ touch. In the way he drew her erect nipple between his teeth and tortured that bud, all the while he slid another finger inside. Eleanor’s hips shot off the bed and she cried out.
“That is it, love,” desire hoarsened his voice and there was something heady in rousing that hunger in him.
Emboldened, she began working his shirt up his body.
He groaned and stayed her movements. “Eleanor, what are you doing?”
“It is only fair that I see your body and know you, too,” she whispered, her body flush with desire and her own boldness.
He dropped his neck back and his lips moved silently as though in prayer. In one fluid movement he pulled the garment over his head and threw it to the floor. He shucked off his boots with an ease any valet would have been hard-pressed not to admire. Then his hands went to his breeches and he froze.
Her mouth went dry, as she battled an inner war where desire warred with the logic of a remembered horror. If she gave this moment over to Atbrooke, she would lose. She would lose something that was beautiful and joyous and something she only should have ever known in Marcus’ arms. Eleanor gave a slight nod.
Unhurriedly, Marcus loosened the fastenings on his breeches, his movements exaggerated and deliberate, and his meaning clear. He was allowing her to stop him. But she did not want him to stop. She wanted to know all of him.
Eleanor gasped as he shoved his breeches down, revealing the thick shaft jutting out tall and bold from a sprig of golden curls. She closed her eyes and flopped back on the bed, staring at that pale blue ceiling once more. She could not do this. No wonder there was pain. It was a physical impossibility. The sheer size of him and the shape of her…Eleanor shook her head. No. No. No. It could never work. She stiffened as Marcus lay on his side. He draped an arm over her middle and held her close. Eleanor pressed her eyes shut and absorbed his warmth and strength. “It won’t work, you know,” she said, opening her eyes. “You are too big and I am…” She waved her hand. “Different than you.”
The ghost of a smile hovered on his lips and he grazed his lips across her temple.
“W-well, of course we have to be different in that way for it to work.” Nervousness made the words tumble out, rolling together. “But it is still not pleasant…and…”
He kissed her and the fear receded. “It will be pleasant,” he breathed against her lips.
“D-do you promise?”
Marcus raised her breast with the reverence of a commoner carrying the king’s crown and drew the nipple into his mouth. He laved and worshiped that bud until desire settled heavy between her legs. Eleanor lifted her hips desperate for more, but seeking, searching, and then Marcus provided.
He delved his finger into her wet warmth, working the slick folds until all conscious thought receded. She pressed herself against his hand. Her rapid breathing matched the franticness of her undulating body, and yet there was no shame in her body’s honest response to his touch. Marcus increased his strokes, moving his fingers in and out on a maddening glide that robbed her of breath. With a panting moan, she wrapped her arms around him and clung tight. It was as though he was lifting her up, higher and higher, and she wanted to continue that climb until she reached the pinnacle of whatever magic he now wove.
He positioned himself over her body, lying between her legs, and she froze as the remembered terror of another—
“Look at me,” Marcus urged with a gentle insistence that carried her gaze to his. “It is me,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “It is me and you, as it was always meant to be and as it has always truly been.” He dropped a kiss upon her lips and she savored the sweet warmth, meeting his tongue in that gentle union that blotted out all fear.
Eleanor splayed her legs, taking him between her thighs and he positioned himself at the juncture of her womanhood. She braced for his swift entry, but he reached between them and again found her slick center with his searching fingers. A moan stuck in her throat as he continued his earlier torture until she was shoving against his hand, pleading for more.
He drew back his torturous fingers and slipped inside her and Eleanor’s head fell back at the beauty and perfectness of him filling her.
She reached up and caressed his tautly drawn cheeks. Perspiration
beaded his brow and dampened his hair. She brushed the too-long tendrils behind his ear. Their gazes held. “I love you,” she whispered.
“And I love you,” he said, his words roughened by desire, then with an agonized groan, Marcus slid deep as though their bodies had been destined for unity and then he began to move. He rocked his hips slowly and she lifted her hips tentatively matching his rhythm.
And with each thrust, he drew her higher and higher up that great climb, to the edge of a precipice and then she stiffened as her body hurtled over the edge and she cried out, exploding into a prism of white light and ecstasy. She dimly registered Marcus’ echoing shout, as with his thrust he touched her very core, and then poured his seed deep inside. He touched her in a way that there was no pain or remembrance of the past, there was just them, as it was always meant to be.
Marcus collapsed above her, capturing his weight on his elbows. He rolled to the side and drew her close. The movement sent rose petals fluttering and dancing about them. Eleanor curled against him, wrapping herself in his warmth. A shy smile turned her lips up. “You kept your promise, Marcus Gray.” He’d shown her with his every touch, his body’s every movement, that lovemaking was a thing of wonder and beauty. He’d awakened her to the truth that nothing had been stolen from her. She was still worthy and capable of desire and feeling.
Marcus studied her through heavy, lazy lids. “And will you make me a promise, love?” He stroked his hand down the small of her back.
A delicious shiver traveled from where his breath tickled her neck. “Oh, and what is that?” she asked, angling to better meet his gaze.
“Promise me forever.”
Eleanor leaned up and received his kiss. “Forever,” she whispered.
The End
Other Books by Christi Caldwell
“To Wed His Christmas Lady”
Book 7 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
She’s longing to be loved:
Lady Cara Falcot has only served one purpose to her loathsome father—to increase his power through a marriage to the future Duke of Billingsley. As such, she’s built protective walls about her heart, and presents an icy facade to the world around her. Journeying home from her finishing school for the Christmas holidays, Cara’s carriage is stranded during a winter storm. She’s forced to tarry at a ramshackle inn, where she immediately antagonizes another patron—William.
He’s avoiding his duty in favor of one last adventure:
William Hargrove, the Marquess of Grafton has wanted only one thing in life—to avoid the future match his parents would have him make to a cold, duke’s daughter. He’s returning home from a blissful eight years of traveling the world to see to his responsibilities. But when a winter storm interrupts his trip and lands him at a falling-down inn, he’s forced to share company with a commanding Lady Cara who initially reminds him exactly of the woman he so desperately wants to avoid.
A Christmas snowstorm ushers in the spirit of the season:
At the holiday time, these two people who despise each other due to first perceptions are offered renewed beginnings and fresh starts. As this gruff stranger breaks down the walls she’s built about herself, Cara has to determine whether she can truly open her heart to trusting that any man is capable of good and that she herself is capable of love. And William has to set aside all previous thoughts he’s carried of the polished ladies like Cara, to be the man to show her that love.
“The Heart of a Scoundrel”
Book 6 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
Ruthless, wicked, and dark, the Marquess of Rutland rouses terror in the breast of ladies and nobleman alike. All Edmund wants in life is power. After he was publically humiliated by his one love Lady Margaret, he vowed vengeance, using Margaret’s niece, as his pawn. Except, he’s thwarted by another, more enticing target—Miss Phoebe Barrett.
Miss Phoebe Barrett knows precisely the shame she’s been born to. Because her father is a shocking letch she’s learned to form her own opinions on a person’s worth. After a chance meeting with the Marquess of Rutland, she is captivated by the mysterious man. He, too, is a victim of society’s scorn, but the more encounters she has with Edmund, the more she knows there is powerful depth and emotion to the jaded marquess.
The lady wreaks havoc on Edmund’s plans for revenge and he finds he wants Phoebe, at all costs. As she’s drawn into the darkness of his world, Phoebe risks being destroyed by Edmund’s ruthlessness. And Phoebe who desires love at all costs, has to determine if she can ever truly trust the heart of a scoundrel.
“To Love a Lord”
Book 5 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
All she wants is security:
The last place finishing school instructor Mrs. Jane Munroe belongs, is in polite Society. Vowing to never wed, she’s been scuttled around from post to post. Now she finds herself in the Marquess of Waverly’s household. She’s never met a nobleman she liked, and when she meets the pompous, arrogant marquess, she remembers why. But soon, she discovers Gabriel is unlike any gentleman she’s ever known.
All he wants is a companion for his sister:
What Gabriel finds himself with instead, is a fiery spirited, bespectacled woman who entices him at every corner and challenges his age-old vow to never trust his heart to a woman. But…there is something suspicious about his sister’s companion. And he is determined to find out just what it is.
All they need is each other:
As Gabriel and Jane confront the truth of their feelings, the lies and secrets between them begin to unravel. And Jane is left to decide whether or not it is ever truly safe to love a lord.
“Loved By a Duke”
Book 4 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
For ten years, Lady Daisy Meadows has been in love with Auric, the Duke of Crawford. Ever since his gallant rescue years earlier, Daisy knew she was destined to be his Duchess. Unfortunately, Auric sees her as his best friend’s sister and nothing more. But perhaps, if she can manage to find the fabled heart of a duke pendant, she will win over the heart of her duke.
Auric, the Duke of Crawford enjoys Daisy’s company. The last thing he is interested in however, is pursuing a romance with a woman he’s known since she was in leading strings. This season, Daisy is turning up in the oddest places and he cannot help but notice that she is no longer a girl. But Auric wouldn’t do something as foolhardy as to fall in love with Daisy. He couldn’t. Not with the guilt he carries over his past sins… Not when he has no right to her heart…But perhaps, just perhaps, she can forgive the past and trust that he’d forever cherish her heart—but will she let him?
“The Love of a Rogue”
Book 3 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
Lady Imogen Moore hasn’t had an easy time of it since she made her Come Out. With her betrothed, a powerful duke breaking it off to wed her sister, she’s become the tons favorite piece of gossip. Never again wanting to experience the pain of a broken heart, she’s resolved to make a match with a polite, respectable gentleman. The last thing she wants is another reckless rogue.
Lord Alex Edgerton has a problem. His brother, tired of Alex’s carousing has charged him with chaperoning their remaining, unwed sister about ton events. Shopping? No, thank you. Attending the theatre? He’d rather be at Forbidden Pleasures with a scantily clad beauty upon his lap. The task of chaperone becomes even more of a bother when his sister drags along her dearest friend, Lady Imogen to social functions. The last thing he wants in his life is a young, innocent English miss.
Except, as Alex and Imogen are thrown together, passions flare and Alex comes to find he not only wants Imogen in his bed, but also in his heart. Yet now he must convince Imogen to risk all, on the heart of a rogue.
“More Than a Duke”
Book 2 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
Polite Society doesn’t take Lady Anne A
damson seriously. However, Anne isn’t just another pretty young miss. When she discovers her father betrayed her mother’s love and her family descended into poverty, Anne comes up with a plan to marry a respectable, powerful, and honorable gentleman—a man nothing like her philandering father.
Armed with the heart of a duke pendant, fabled to land the wearer a duke’s heart, she decides to enlist the aid of the notorious Harry, 6th Earl of Stanhope. A scoundrel with a scandalous past, he is the last gentleman she’d ever wed…however, his reputation marks him the perfect man to school her in the art of seduction so she might ensnare the illustrious Duke of Crawford.
Harry, the Earl of Stanhope is a jaded, cynical rogue who lives for his own pleasures. Having been thrown over by the only woman he ever loved so she could wed a duke, he’s not at all surprised when Lady Anne approaches him with her scheme to capture another duke’s affection. He’s come to appreciate that all women are in fact greedy, title-grasping, self-indulgent creatures. And with Anne’s history of grating on his every last nerve, she is the last woman he’d ever agree to school in the art of seduction. Only his friendship with the lady’s sister compels him to help.
What begins as a pretend courtship, born of lessons on seduction, becomes something more leaving Anne to decide if she can give her heart to a reckless rogue, and Harry must decide if he’s willing to again trust in a lady’s love.
“For Love of the Duke”
First Full-Length Book in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
After the tragic death of his wife, Jasper, the 8th Duke of Bainbridge buried himself away in the dark cold walls of his home, Castle Blackwood. When he’s coaxed out of his self-imposed exile to attend the amusements of the Frost Fair, his life is irrevocably changed by his fateful meeting with Lady Katherine Adamson.
To Trust a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke Book 8) Page 30
