Unlike him.
He had floundered for several years, not knowing his place or what he wanted. From the deBeau siblings, he had learned about family and friendship. From Somerton, he had learned about honor and duty—to his relatives and his estates and the people who worked them. But something vital had been missing from his life. It wasn’t until he returned to England, after spending some time abroad searching for his elusive happiness, that he realized what he needed.
His epiphany presented itself in the form of a mature Cora dressed in an alluring red gown and traipsing around a masked ball. The moment she removed her black silk mask, he knew what he wanted. A home. A family. Cora.
And then she left. For three long years.
A soft snore brought him back to the present. To the woman in his arms, who had given herself over to him for safekeeping.
A treasure beyond compare.
Twenty
Several hours later, Cora woke to a mild ache in her side. She blinked away the fog of sleep and was surprised to realize that she had slept away most of the day. How long had it been since she’d had such a restful sleep?
Now that she was awake, the pressure on her side grew more noticeable. She peered down at the source of her discomfort and found a large, sinewy male arm wrapped around her middle. She twisted around to locate its owner, her pulse pounding in her ears. When she found Guy sound asleep beside her, she released the alarmed breath she had been holding.
Tangled ebony waves framed his strong cheekbones, creating an untamed yet peaceful prospect. Until her gaze traveled below his chin.
The sheet rode low on his stomach, exhibiting a powerful combination of rippling muscles and hair-dusted skin. She followed the slow rise of his chest, noting with some dismay that her hammering heart did not match the even pace of his breathing.
When she averted her gaze, the small motion caused her nipples to rub against the cool sheet. Her eyes widened. What on earth!
Her gaze dropped to her bare arms and upper chest, to the sheet scarcely covering her chilled breasts, to the unclothed man at her back. A fresh wave of alarm surged through her, and she nearly bolted from the bed.
But the masculine planes of Guy’s torso and his sheet-covered hip held her transfixed, immobile. The sight ignited a thrilling warmth deep inside that soon tempered her apprehension. Her gaze lingered on the sheet; her curiosity about what lay beneath eroded her good sense.
She inched her foot back until she found his leg. One tentative slide of her sole revealed she wasn’t the only one naked beneath the covers. A low groan escaped from her throat, and she was transported to their time together at the lake. She relived the feel of his caress, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips.
Although her initial anxiety had receded, her limbs continued to quiver. But for an entirely different reason, one that had to do with the inferno licking at her womb. Falling back to sleep with Guy’s bare body mere inches away from hers would be utterly impossible. She could try slipping away but feared waking him. The worry and lack of sleep over the last few days had proven just as miserable for Guy as it had for her. He deserved a little uninterrupted relaxation before external forces called them to action again.
She lay there, counting his slumberous breaths and willing herself to relax. She made it to forty-one before throwing her hands up in defeat. There was absolutely no way to ignore something so… tempting.
Holding the sheet to her breasts, she slid out from beneath his arm and sat up, easing one leg over the edge of the bed. Guy’s warm, far-too-close body stirred behind her. She froze, not daring to even blink. When no further movement came from behind, she chanced a quick peek over her shoulder.
Guy’s bottomless gaze met hers. “Going somewhere?” His sleep-drugged voice slid down her spine like a trickle of warm water. It also shattered her last hope of slipping away undetected.
“Umm, yes. I seemed to have misplaced my clothes.”
With a single finger, he caressed her exposed back. “So I see.”
A violent shiver racked her body, and her breasts tingled with need. The darkened room, Guy’s bare flesh and tousled hair, his musky scent—it all coalesced into a cocoon of intimacy and an unmistakable pulse of desire.
She scooted toward the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry to have disrupted your sleep.”
“I’m not.” He laid his hand on her elbow, halting her progress. The bed dipped, and then she felt the heat of his body against her back. “Stay.” His seductive request whispered against the fine hairs blanketing her shoulder, causing a delicious shiver to track down her spine. “We have hours before dawn.”
Cora closed her eyes. She could not be this close to Guy and remain unaffected. He tempted her, lured her into accepting his forbidden fruit.
“You know this is not a good idea, Guy.” An entanglement with him could cost her dearly on many levels. Not only could she lose his friendship, she could fall in love with a man destined to wed an unblemished debutante to further the family name. So many reasons she should leave his bed. And yet she stayed.
“I know no such thing.” He kissed the curve of her shoulder.
He leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I’m willing to take the risk. Are you?”
Yes.
Cora was afraid she would risk a great deal for the simple pleasure of feeling his lips caress her skin. Touch by touch, thread by thread, he wove her into his sensual world, where nothing mattered but them. After their loving by the lake, she found herself yearning to experience the delectable release of passion again.
“Stay with me, Cora.” His voice enthralled and tempted and tore at her resolve.
How could she deny him? Them. None of the reasons that seemed so important only minutes ago held any weight with her now. She felt herself dissolving into the cool bed linens, freeing her mind of Valère, and of perfect brides and lost brothers, loving the weight of his sleep-warmed body as it covered hers.
She felt decadent and beautiful, and her body writhed against the bottom sheet, enjoying the gentle abrasion on her sensitized skin and loving the press of his hard chest along hers.
Her restless legs came into contact with the fabric of his smalls. “You’re not naked.”
“No.” His hand slid over her hip. “But you are.” Then he kissed her. A possessive, thought-destroying mesh of lips that sank into the marrow of her bones.
She swept her arms around his torso and pulled him closer, luxuriating in the smooth strength of his back and trapping the evidence of his desire against her pelvis.
A shiver raced over the surface of her skin, and her nipples contracted into hard nubs. Desire, potent and heavy, pumped through her veins, leaving her gasping for air. The weight of her emotions was unfamiliar and frightening. And so addictive.
Misinterpreting her response, Guy lifted his head, concern and a hint of dread marking his handsome face. “Shall I stop?”
She lifted her right leg and hooked it over his waist, pushing her damp folds against his hard length. “Do I act as though I want you to stop?” She thrust her hips again.
A whisper of breath fanned her chest, and he answered her taunt with a driving thrust of his own. “I thought”—he swallowed hard—“I might have frightened you. And I was afraid it wouldn’t matter. I want you so damn much, Cora. Too much, I fear.”
She shook her head, weaving her fingers into his long, loose hair, kissing his unshaven jaw, his lips, his throat. “Never too much, Guy. Never too much.”
He pressed a heart-stopping kiss between her breasts, and her eyes fluttered closed. With excruciating slowness, he turned his attention to the sensitive underside of each mound, kneading one while tasting the other. Then his tongue teased the rim of the aureole, and Cora’s entire body bucked under the force of her need.
Guy laughed softly. “I like that spot, too, sweetheart.”
A sound akin to a growl rumbled deep in her throat. “Cease your torment.” She grasped his head and tried
to force him to take her nipple into his mouth.
But he refused her demand.
His mouth hovered above her aching, rigid nipple, and no amount of prodding or pushing would entice him to take in her straining peak.
“Guuyyy,” she groaned, arching her spine.
“Cora.” He whispered her name over her fiery flesh, making chill bumps ripple across the surface. He thrust his member along her heated folds. “Do you feel me?”
She answered in kind with a roll of her hips. “Yes.”
Still he held back.
She peered up at him, her voice thick with desire. “Do you wish for me to beg?”
He lifted his head enough for her to see the answer in his burning gaze.
“Please, Guy.” She teased the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue, showing him what she wanted. His breaths grew more labored, and his heartbeats pounded against her stomach. “Please take me into your mouth, my lord.”
His control snapped.
He clamped the hot cavern of his mouth around her breast, flicking and drawing on the sensitive tip while one hand pushed down his smalls and guided his staff to the cleft of her moist center. He entered her with a slow and deliberate thoroughness that scoured her nerves raw. She wanted more of him, all of him. And she wanted it faster.
She arched her lower back and then pushed into him with all her strength, enveloping his entire length with her channel. They both groaned from the tantalizing friction her momentum created. Taking her cue, Guy began rocking against her with strong, sure thrusts, setting an anticipatory rhythm that made her grasp greedily for release.
Within seconds, something inside her exploded, and her body pulsed once again with exotic sensations. She held him closer, her mind fixed on the delicious vibrations thrumming in the vicinity of where their bodies connected. Suddenly, his muscles tensed, and she felt his seed pump into her, hot and forceful. Near her ear, she heard a low, unearthly growl rumble through his straining chest.
They lay frozen in a moment of charged silence before Guy released a slow exhale, his replete body sagging against hers. He languidly kissed her lips before resting his head in the curve of her neck. The pose was so comforting and warm and right.
Seconds later, he rose up on his elbows, looking down at her with sleepy contentment. “Are you well?”
Her body prickled with ethereal wonder. The momentary pleasure she had felt deep inside her womb transcended weeks of brutal torture. She wanted to experience that pleasure again.
And again.
She nodded. “You?”
His lips turned up into a wolfish, satisfied smile. “Quite.”
She made lazy circles over his upper arms, searching for appropriate words.
“What is it, Cora?”
She allowed her gaze to roam over his dear features. She wanted to remember everything about this moment. Happiness strummed through her veins, her body, her heart.
How long would it be before she felt this way again? Two days? Two months? Never? A keen ache clutched her chest. She pressed a desperate kiss on his lips and tightened her internal muscles around his shaft still resting inside her.
Guy hissed a breath between his teeth and pushed his hips into her. Her back arched.
“Cora?”
“Hmm-mmm.”
“As much as I’d like to make love to you all over again,” he said through gritted teeth, pulling free, “I think it best if we wait a little while. Your body is still healing.”
It was then Cora noticed the slight stinging sensation between her legs, and the area around her injured ribs ached from her exertions. “I suppose you are correct.”
In the midst of trailing kisses along her bared shoulder, he chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “Never fear, my Insatiable One. I suspect ‘a little while’ will be here before you know it.”
A lock of Guy’s dark hair slid free and pooled onto her shoulder. The wispy, delicate strands were in such stark contrast to his broad masculine frame. She loved his hair. Loved lacing her fingers through the soft strands, as she did now, and loved the way his hair outlined the sharp planes of his cheeks when released from its constraining tie.
No matter how hard she concentrated on the sleek texture of Guy’s hair, she could not hold back the layer of sadness that crept into her heart.
“Why so thoughtful, Cora?” he asked. “I expected you to collapse into a heap of satiated wonder after my lovemaking. Instead, you look like someone stole your favorite biscuit.”
She tried to smile, she really did, but an insidious dark cloud of regret blotted out her euphoric mood.
He kissed her gently, coaxingly. “Tell me.”
She sighed, knowing the time had come to face her lack of innocence. It could not be undone, nor would she apologize for its absence. But those conditions did not nullify the fact that she wished Guy had been the recipient of her gift, rather than Valère.
“I’m sorry I was not whole for you.” Her words emerged on little more than a whisper, and she became quite entranced by a whisker on his jaw.
Guy tucked two fingers beneath her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. Slumberous midnight eyes spoke of understanding, even as a sad smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
“Did you not save the most intimate part for me? The part where your body accepted me as your mate?”
Was that why she had never found release with Valère? Because her body performed a duty rather than an act of love? She sent him a grateful, joyous smile. “Yes. I do believe you are right.”
“I will not lie, Cora,” Guy said. “The thought of you sharing another man’s bed, especially Valère’s, is like a cancer eating away at my heart.”
Her smile dimmed. Her time in Valère’s bed had been nothing compared to the time she had spent in Guy’s arms.
Because Guy was correct. Her body’s acceptance of him felt like a gifting of her innocence. Not of the thin barrier coveted by men, but of something far more precious.
But what man of honor would want a woman who would give her virginity away for a morsel of information? The question splintered through her mind. No matter how justified her so-called noble reasons for gathering information in France, she could not change how society—she drew in a shuddering breath—or even Guy, would view her behavior.
“But,” Guy said, giving her chin a little squeeze as if he had known she’d drifted off into her own thoughts, “know this, Cora deBeau. I shall be your last and only lover from this point forward, as you will be mine.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Pardon?”
His lips twitched. “What part of ‘mine’ did you not understand, sweetheart?”
The ache in her throat sharpened, and tears of profound joy blurred her vision. Could she be so lucky? Could a man of Guy’s temperament accept such a breach in social behavior? The gentle look he sent her penetrated the depths of her long-held fears and filled her heart with a warmth that had been absent far too long.
She folded her lips between her teeth to stop their trembling.
Perhaps, just perhaps.
Twenty-One
Guy ran down the stairs, stuffing his shirttail into his breeches as he went. When he woke to find Cora gone, disappointment pulled at his heart, quickly followed by a surge of white-hot panic and red-hot rage.
“Morning, m’lord,” the innkeeper said with far more enthusiasm than a person should this early in the day. The man stood at the bottom of the stairs, his plump red face already slicked with sweat from his morning exertions. Although the innkeeper carried a few extra pounds, the retired pugilist’s thick neck, massive upper arms, and disfigured ears were testaments to his many rounds in the boxing ring. “Are ye looking for your missus?”
Guy skidded to a halt on the last stair. Missus? Something warm slipped into his heart. “As a matter of fact, I am, Mr. Malone.”
“You’ll find her in the back parlor. She’s sharing a cup of tea with her saucy maid.” The innkeeper waved to the le
ft of the stairs and then glanced down at Guy’s bare feet with a wry smile.
She hadn’t left him.
The tension drained from Guy’s shoulders, and his breathing resumed its normal rhythm. When he had turned over this morning, expecting to nestle around a warm woman, his hand found nothing but cold sheet.
The realization that Cora had been gone from their bed for some time had sent a stab of dread through his gut. Why had she left the safety of their chamber without telling him of her intention? Had she needed something in the wee hours of the morning and hadn’t wanted to disturb him? He sifted through the fog of his memories for an indication as to when she had left their bed. But his last conscious thought was of burying his nose in the crook of her neck, the fresh scent of her recent bath lulling him to sleep.
On top of the anxiety of not knowing her whereabouts sat a thick layer of old uncertainties. This morning’s scenario brought back painful memories of his parents’ abandonment while he had attended Eton. When it was time for the students to rejoin their parents at the end of each half, one of the schoolmasters, and sometimes the headmaster, would visit Guy and convey the unpleasant news of his parents’ inability to return home in time for his term break.
The first year was a disappointment but not surprising. His parents had always followed their pleasures. They traveled the length of Britain, chasing one house party after another and, when they grew bored with local entertainments, they jumped on a ship and headed for more exotic amusements. Having a child, even his father’s heir, had never slowed them down or caused them a moment’s guilt.
If not for Ethan being within hearing distance of the master’s announcement that first year, Guy might have gone mad stalking the corridors of his family’s large estate. Instead, he had spent several holidays and summers with the fun-loving deBeaus—until the year before the great tragedy struck the close-knit family. During that long year, the earl’s bouts of ill temper had steadily grown, as had the countess’s affection for obscurity.
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