A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  He raised his head to look at her. “I was hurt. I thought you had played me for a fool.”

  “So it was only your pride that was hurt?” She regarded him knowingly.

  He took a gulp of air and knew he would be a coward if he didn’t face what she was really asking: did he have feelings for her? “No, it wasn’t solely about my pride. I have come to have feelings for you. I don’t know what those feelings mean, and I’m scared of them. I have always thought that love was a weakness. That love gave another the ability to hurt.”

  “Love doesn’t hurt. I don’t know about your parents’ marriage, so it is hard to comment, but if you love someone you would never wish to hurt them. You would never want to be with anyone else just to cause pain. I know, because you were obviously with someone tonight and my heart hurts like a weeping wound.”

  “I went to Christina.”

  Beatrice tried to look away. Tried to hide the pain that flooded her face at his words. But he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “I stopped before … I admit I went there thinking to be with Christina so I could lash out at you, and hurt you. But I couldn’t do it. I realized that is exactly what my father and mother did. I also realized you were right. If you care for someone, you can’t hurt them. It was a revelation to me. Everyone told me my parents’ marriage was a love match, but it obviously wasn’t, because love doesn’t allow you to hurt another.”

  “Love? You love me?”

  “I suspect I’ve loved you from the minute I saw you, lying like a siren mermaid on the deck of my ship. When you proposed marriage, I agreed not because I had to, but because I knew you are the woman I have been looking for all my life,” he whispered, “and it scared me to death.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for telling me the truth and for trusting me with your feelings. I know what my feelings are. I think I loved you from the minute you told me you hadn’t killed Doogie. But because of the way we met, we haven’t been able to trust each other. And I know, for us to have a real relationship, for us to be able to love each other fully, trust has to be there. So I’m going to ask you, do you trust me?”

  He rose up and took her mouth in a bruising kiss, pouring everything he felt into it. When he drew back, he looked at her and said, “I trust you with my life.”

  The smile that broke on Beatrice’s face was all the reward he needed, and she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

  Beatrice knew they still had a lot of growing to do. She was relieved he hadn’t broken his wedding vows. She wasn’t sure she could forgive easily.

  She did have courage when it came to Henry, though.

  “I want to know what you are going to do about Henry. I hope you will allow me to continue to support him.”

  “So that is what you spent your pin money on.” He lifted her up and pulled her onto his lap. “Lizzy’s letter was right. Henry is the innocent party in all of this, and I for one intend to ensure that his welfare is looked after. How would you like it if we brought Henry into our home and I assumed guardianship of him? Dunmire would never be able to touch him if I did that.”

  Beatrice just looked at him in astonishment. Her heart opened and she realized what a good man Sebastian really was. No wonder she’d fallen completely in love with him. With tears in her eyes, she leaned down and placed her lips gently on his. “Thank you. I would love that more than anything. Monica could be his nanny. What about Marisa and Helen and Aunt Alison? What will they think?”

  “I have two sisters who could easily have been duped by a man like Dunmire if not for my protection. I think it is about time I explained some of the nasty things in life to them. I’m sure once they hear the story, they will open their hearts and be quite happy that Henry is joining our family.”

  “You are a good man, Sebastian. You have a big heart and you are very kind. I’m lucky you agreed to my bargain all those days ago. It seems like an eternity since we met. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t believe me about Henry.”

  “I’m so pleased you’re a strong woman, Beatrice. You stood up to me. I love that about you.”

  She paused for a moment, struggling with self-doubt. “You can accuse me of being Henpeck Hennessey if you want, but I warn you now, if you ever stray, you’ll lose my trust. I won’t stay quiet.”

  “You can henpeck me all you like, because I know that means you care.” He added soberly, “There is nothing I treasure more than you and our newfound trust, so hard won. I promise I’d sooner lose everything than your trust, respect, and love. You are the only woman for me, my love.”

  “Show me. I’ve missed you in my bed these last few nights.”

  He leaned down and briefly kissed her. “It would be my pleasure, darling.” Sebastian carried her, the moonlight bathing her canopied four-poster in a soft ethereal glow. He gently lowered her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

  “Roll over now unless you want me to rip this gown off your body.”

  She laughed and rolled onto her stomach as he requested, lying facedown on the soft mattress. “Don’t you dare, how would I explain to the girls what happened to it?” Her question ended on a soft moan when Sebastian’s warm lips began trailing down her bare back as he undid each hook.

  Her body softened, eager for his expert loving. Pleasure washed in a warm wave down the length of her body. His hot mouth planted kisses down her spine, the faint hint of stubble face brushing against the rising curve of her now bare backside.

  Sebastian drew out her undressing until her nerves screamed. She was quickly divested of all her clothes except for her stockings and garters. She lay contentedly upon the soft mattress, letting his hands and mouth stoke her desire. Then he was gone. She looked back over her shoulder to see him standing, still fully dressed, just staring at her. She made to turn over, suddenly shy.

  “No. Don’t move. Stay exactly as you are.”

  Secure in their newfound trust, she did as he requested but she turned her head to watch him undress.

  Sebastian stood smiling at the end of her bed, heating every inch of her bare skin with just his eyes. Holding her gaze, he slowly pulled off his unbuttoned coat and dropped it behind him. His fingers seemed to fumble for a moment on the buttons of his waistcoat and it seemed like forever until he shed that as well.

  She swallowed as he pulled his white shirt of fine lawn from the waistband of his trousers and in one swift movement pulled the shirt over his head. She watched it flutter to the floor until the beauty it exposed caught her attention. She marveled at the breadth of his wide shoulders, the clean sweep of his taut waist, and the rippling muscles of his chest and stomach that called to her until she trembled in anticipation. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered.

  Their eyes met. The heat and fire in his gaze could burn her. He quickly divested himself of his boots and breeches, and this time when she looked at him, she forgot to breathe.

  He looked like a perfectly chiseled statue come to life, every elegant, rock-hard curve of muscle—biceps, shoulders, chest, thighs—and then the pulsating hardness at his groin, his rampant erection, made her mouth water and her inner muscles clench.

  Like a prowling lion he moved up onto the bed, and then she felt nothing but the warm, tickling delight of his fine mouth, dusting more kisses up the back of her legs, which parted eagerly at the teasing sweetness of his touch, while her hands clutched the sheets.

  She shivered in anticipation, a complete wanton, not sure what to expect, but she had faith in her husband to provide pleasure. When he gently spread her bottom cheeks with his skillful, warm hands, she let out a cry of shock as his wicked tongue plunged into her from behind, stroking her with a kiss.

  His mouth on her was scandalous but oh, God, so pleasurable she could not bring herself to object. Bliss like none she’d ever known spiraled through her body. She felt open, exposed, but she didn’t care. She trusted Sebastian with her body and her heart.

  He rewarde
d her trust by curling his hand around the front of her thigh and caressing her little hardened nub with his fingertips while he explored her open sex with this tongue.

  Beatrice reached behind her, lacing her fingers in his thick, dark locks. His powerful arms and chest teased her, just out of reach. At her insistent tug on his scalp, he glanced up and sent her a smoldering look, his enticing mouth against her pale skin. Then, with a knowing look of smugness, he bent his head and continued pleasuring her.

  Soon her breathing became labored, her legs shook, and any coherent thought fled. She was so close; she moaned loudly and to her despair his mouth left her body. She yanked his hair in frustration before letting him go, but Sebastian merely chuckled. “So feisty. I love that about you.”

  He began kissing his way up her spine, holding her firmly by her hips. She felt his hardness nudging between her thighs and her head tipped back. “Yes,” she said, “now.”

  He ignored her, his hands skimming her sides and down her arms. He lifted her hands from the sheets, and still on her knees he shuffled her forward and placed her hands on the headboard in front of them. “Don’t let go until I tell you,” he commanded in a voice laced with sex.

  He was behind her, covering her with his body, pressing her forward, his hands pulling her hips back and up. His chest was hard and hot against her bare back.

  His muscled body was so large he seemed to surround her on all sides, dominating her. She could hear his heavy breathing, felt the massive evidence of his need as he teasingly rubbed his hardness against her.

  She tried to twist round but he captured her hips and held her fast. “Please,” she begged.

  He drew back and she felt a finger enter her. “You’re so wet, and hot, and tight. I can barely wait to take you,” he told her, his voice husky and filled with want.

  Then, mercifully, he guided his hardness to her wet, glistening entrance and sank deep within her. She leaned back and sank onto him; he pushed her back up on her knees, withdrawing until he almost left her body, holding her there, teasing her until she squirmed trying to sink back onto his rampant hardness. She panted with desire and arched her head back as his fingertips lightly caressed her throat, then moved down to tease her tightly budded nipples. She moaned with want, her body undulating above him. In that moment, he possessed her totally.

  “More?” he asked, his voice tight and low.

  She whimpered his name, begging him to take her hard.

  Then he slammed deep. A groan tore from his chest and he held her hips as he finally lost the control he’d always mastered in their bed.

  She clung to the bed head, bending forward more, pushing back to meet his thrusts, trying to take him deeper. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and his hands snaked round to claim them. She felt his teeth on her shoulder. A tender bite as if he were marking her.

  His hands traveled down her sides, following her curves down to her hips.

  “So sweet, so tight,” he whispered. His hands were everywhere, at her breasts, teasing her aching nipples, then between her thighs, stroking her hardened nub, while he continually whispered decadent phrases in her ear.

  Soon their combined moans and groans echoed around the room. He thrust inside her again and again. He groaned with pleasure as he took her from behind. Not being able to see his face was torture, but hearing him, and feeling him surrounding her, in her, seemed to heighten her desire to the bursting point.

  He moved faster, seemingly unable to stop. The thrill of feeling him lose control, giving everything of himself to her, hiding no part of his needs and wants, was like being caught in a whirlpool of sensations.

  The fullness of having him seated so deeply within her sent passion flowing through her veins like wine. She shivered and clutched the headboard tighter, gasping for air as undreamed-of pleasure consumed her very soul. She was aware of nothing else but the man at her back, the man thrusting hard and hot into her, directing her ever closer, and then he sent her spiraling out of this world, release crashed through her body, and she cried out his name, gripping the headboard to keep herself from falling.

  Immediately his hands were at her hips, he was whispering wildly to her, but she couldn’t make out the words, so lost in a state of bliss, she was rigid and pulsating.

  As her body began to milk him, the last of his control flew asunder. He took her with urgent, violent strokes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Then Sebastian gave himself up to the demands of his release as it came roaring up from the depths of him. A barbaric growl tore from his lips. His mighty body went rigid and he gripped her in a savage tight embrace, his body covering hers; his hips lunged and his manhood pulsed with completion deep inside her, leaving him spent.

  If not for his arm around her waist, she would have collapsed. Their lovemaking had been intense, like nothing they had previously shared. He must have noticed her shaking, because he pulled her tightly against him, her hands falling from the headboard, and pulled her down into the soft mattress beside him, safe in his embrace.

  He was still breathing deeply, but his face was relaxed, the perfect picture of a man thoroughly satisfied.

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “Lord, what you do to me, woman. I could die a happy man after that.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t die, darling. I’d like to do that, with you, for the rest of my life. In fact, I’d like to do that again shortly if that is at all possible.”

  He gave a tired laugh. “Give me a few minutes to recover. It’s been a long day.”

  They lay quietly, locked together, breathing in complete unison.

  “You’re going to challenge Dunmire, aren’t you?”

  He brushed the hair from her face. “What do you expect me to do? He deserves it for what he did to Lizzy, but also, if he is H.B., he likely killed Doogie and shot at me. I can’t let that go.”

  Beatrice pushed up out of his hold. “But killing Dunmire doesn’t get us the answers we need. Wouldn’t it be better to try and trap him? Then we can interrogate him and learn who is behind this.”

  “Interrogate?” he asked, smiling.

  “Well, Arend would probably do the interrogating. He has a knack of getting people to talk. Even though I know him, sometimes his dark scowl can make me shiver.”

  “He’d never hurt you.”

  She pressed a kiss to his chest as she snuggled back into his embrace. “I know that, but he hides a darkness, which I assume comes from his past. It must have been horrid fleeing the violence of revolutionary France.”

  “He doesn’t talk about it.”

  “Well, that speaks volumes. Promise me you’ll talk with the others before you challenge Lord Dunmire.”

  He lay back on a sigh and stared at the ceiling. “I just want this to be over. Marisa is missing out on a season and Helen tries to hide how scared she is. It’s not fair on them, or you. This is not what you agreed to when we married.”

  Beatrice loved how he was always thinking of his family, a family that now included her. “It will be over sooner if we can get Dunmire to talk.”

  Suddenly he rolled her beneath him, rising up on his arms above her, delivering a wicked smile. She felt his member stir against her thigh. “I was lucky to have accepted your proposal. Who would have thought intelligence in a woman could be so sexy?”

  “Is it only my intelligence you find attractive then?” She loved how desire flared in his eyes as she stretched her arms above her head, pushing her breasts up, while she widened her legs so he settled fully against her womanhood.

  His response was to take one pert nipple deep into his mouth, drawing a moan from her lips. When he raised his head, he whispered against her heated skin, “I love everything about you. Your kindness, your determination, you stubbornness, your intelligence, and yes, the delights of your body.”

  She lay there speechless. Then warmth seeped into her and she reached up and kissed him.

  As he began showing her just how much he loved ever
y inch of her, Beatrice knew she was the luckiest woman in the world.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following evening, they walked into the Cavendish ballroom and joined the queue waiting to greet the host and hostess.

  The other Libertine Scholars agreed with Beatrice that they should scope out Dunmire and try to learn more. They agreed to carry on as if everything were normal: they would reenter the season and use the social whirl to get closer to Dunmire.

  So here they were at another ball. Sebastian had promised to spend the whole evening with the ladies for their protection. He wasn’t taking any chances. Beatrice was actually looking forward to a ball for the first time.

  She lifted her head high and kept her eyes locked on Sebastian, knowing that the vicious talk about how they had wed had not abated. Ignoring the whispers, they stood in the receiving line, waiting as guests shuffled forward. Once the pleasantries were completed, they moved fully into the ballroom.

  Beatrice couldn’t help staring at her husband. She knew it wasn’t the thing, but her traitorous breath caught in her throat every time he smiled. How did he do it? She tore her gaze away from the intoxicating sight of him, trying to quell the fluttery sensation developing in her stomach. He was so handsome this evening, but to her he was always handsome.

  She’d never considered that a man could look better naked, until she’d seen her husband as God intended. She smiled inwardly, feeling sorry for the women in the room gazing upon her husband. They would never know that while his ensemble set off his physique to perfection, Sebastian was pure sinful pleasure au naturel. She looked forward to running her hands, and lips, over the heated muscled flesh hidden beneath the soft fabric, later this evening, when he came to her bed.

  Tonight he seemed taller, more masculine, even in his finery. He was her flesh-and-blood fantasy. His soft blue-gray eyes seemed to deliberately entice; usually just a smile set her pulse hammering. Her husband was a temptation sent to make women want to sin.

  The introduction for the first waltz cut through the hypnotic moment. His eyes held hers and for once she hid nothing from him; her request, nay demand, flashed in her eyes. His fingers closed about her hand and he lifted it fleetingly to his lips. Then he elegantly bowed, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d like to dance with my beautiful wife, if she so desires.”