“Three years later, in a brothel in Dieppe, I had the opportunity to mete out my justice,” she went on. “Barone didn’t recognize me in my disguise, drank the wine I served him. And when he lay there, dying, I told him exactly who I was and why his next breath would be his last. I walked out of there knowing I wasn’t powerless anymore.”
Even as the words spilled from her like water from a dam, anxiety frothed inside her. God, she sounded so… ruthless. Aggressive and cold-blooded, like no lady would ever sound. Was Marcus shocked? Had she succeeded in disgusting him at last?
“The bastard deserved to die.” Marcus’ tone was savage. “My only regret about his death is that I cannot kill him all over again. I’d like to tear the bugger from limb to limb, rip his bloody heart out.”
Her heart thudding, she saw the primal intent in Marcus’ eyes, his fierce expression. It was the look of a man who meant what he’d said: he would kill for her. He would avenge the wrong that had been done to his woman. Such brutal justice might offend the sensibilities of a well-bred lady, but to Penny it was a revelation.
Finally she felt the truth of what he’d told her time and again. He loved her. Loved her. No matter what and with a ferocity that satisfied her deepest longings.
He loved her the way she loved him.
Certainty flooded her, along with a relief so great that she felt her soul let out a sigh. It made it easy to let go of the rest. To cleanse herself of the past once and for all.
“The other two men I was with were part of missions. Chenet and Martin—they were nothing but means to an end. Octavian had taught me to use every weapon available to me, including my physical charms. At the time, I thought it was a form of power. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim again; I was going to use them. I thought that, in using my body, I was in control. Flora tried to dissuade me from that dark path, told me I was trading one devil for another. She said I deserved far better.”
“I’m adding a full bloody wing to Flora’s Abbey.”
Marcus’ grim and unexpected humor startled a gurgled laugh from her throat. She hadn’t ever imagined that she could feel lightness while talking about her past; it was yet another gift he’d given her.
Now it was her turn to take his face in her hands. His bristly jaw was quivering with what he was feeling for her, but his eyes burned with love.
“Then I met you that Christmas,” she said softly, “and you made me recognize the truth of Flora’s words. That I did deserve better. That I would do anything to have your love, the love of a good man.”
“By God, you have it. I love you, Penny. More than anything in the world.”
His kiss simmered with intensity. An answering fire leapt within her, billowed by a pure freedom that she’d never known before. Love and lust combusted, blasting through her. But when she parted her lips to deepen their connection, he drew back.
“Are you certain you want this now, love?” His voice was strained, his gaze searching. “You’ve gone through a lot tonight. I could just hold you—”
“Make love to me, Marcus.” Her hands speared through his hair. “I need this. I need you.”
His eyes blazed into hers. “Whatever you need, you’ll have it.”
Then he was kissing her, truly kissing her, giving her the passion she craved, the bright flame of his love melting away her shadows. He shoved away the sheets, sat up against the pillows and rolled her on top of him. He continued kissing her until she was panting, squirming, delirious with desire. The thick iron bar of his cock throbbed against her thigh, the temptation almost too much to bear.
“I want you,” she whispered.
His nostrils flared, his pupils darkening. “Take me then. Whatever you want, Penny, it’s yours.”
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She knew why he was giving her the power, and she loved him all the more for it… but, blooming hell, how was she to choose what she wanted? It was like being given carte blanche at a sweets shop. She wanted her delicious husband in every way she could have him.
She began by kissing his jaw, the strong column of his neck. His warm masculine scent curled in her nostrils as she moved down to his upper torso, running her fingers over the lean slabs of muscle, loving the virile rasp of his chest hair. Bending down, she kissed his coppery nipples, teasing the flat discs with her tongue, smiling when she heard the hitch in his breath.
She trailed kisses over his ribs, the ridges of his abdomen flexing beneath her lips. Nudging his muscular thighs apart, she made room for herself there, the way a cat does in a sunny spot. As she eyed her lord’s masculine bounty, she did feel rather like a feline presented with a dish of the richest, tastiest cream.
“Keep looking at me like that, love,” he said, humor threading through his deep voice, “and it’ll be over before you know it.”
She curled her fingers around his huge shaft, so erect and hard that she had to pry it gently away from his stomach. “From firsthand experience, I can vouch for your staying power, Lord Blackwood.”
“If those hands of yours continue what they’re doing, Lady Blackwood,”—his eyes grew hooded as she ran her fist from thick root to fat, glistening tip—“you may be in for a surprise.”
“You don’t like my hands?” She made a moue.
“Do I look as though I don’t like your hands?” he said dryly.
A droplet of his essence formed on his cockhead, punctuating his point. The pearly bead invited her to lean forward and lick it off. So she did. The clean, salty taste of him tingled on her tongue.
“Christ, woman.”
His voice sounded strangled, likely because she was in the process of trying to swallow his entire shaft. She loved taking him this way, his proud heat filling her, his hips bucking when he hit the back of her throat. She bobbed her head on his cock, her hands cupping and rubbing his heavy stones the way she knew he liked, and his hands clenched in her hair.
Not guiding or controlling her. Just holding on as she took what she wanted.
It made her want more.
She slid her mouth upward, releasing him with a moist pop. Propped up against the pillows, he watched her, loving lust in his blue eyes. Holding his gaze, she clambered astride him, reaching down to align their bodies. She sank down on his meaty pole, impaling herself in a swift stroke, crying out with the pleasure of it.
“Bloody hell, I love being inside you.” His voice was a sensual rasp. “Your pussy is so wet and hot and greedy for my cock, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She gasped as his rod jerked inside her.
“Then take what you want. Fuck me, Penny.”
She needed no further urging. Balancing a hand on his shoulder, she rocked her hips, sliding up and then slamming all the way down. He growled, and she did it again, pleasure welling at her very center. It spread outward, sweetness singing through her limbs as she rode her husband’s cock, and he let her dictate the pace. Gave her anything she wanted. Made her feel loved and powerful, free to be who she was.
With exhilarating abandon, she gyrated on his shaft and cupped her breasts.
“Kiss me, Marcus,” she invited.
His eyes flared, and he wasted no time in taking what she offered. The hot suck of his mouth shot straight to her pussy, which clenched around his wide girth, making them both groan. He tongued her nipples as she rode him faster and faster, needful of the finish just in the distance. She was so close, her muscles tautening, her insides trembling for want of relief, but she couldn’t quite get there.
His thumb slid to where they were joined, right where she needed it.
“Blooming hell,” she gasped.
Her head flung back as she shot over the precipice, propelled into toe-curling, mind-melting bliss.
The next instant, she was on her back. Marcus was over her. His face dark with passion, he drove into her. The hard, pounding strokes fueled her rippling climax. The pleasure went on and on, and she didn’t know if she came again or if her orgasm simply didn’t stop. She hung on, riding the waves of it,
and then his big body shuddered and he shouted out her name. His heat flooded her, warming her very core.
He collapsed onto the bed, rolled her atop him, keeping their bodies joined. He stroked her hair as she cuddled against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Lulled by his strong and steady heart, his whispers of love, she drifted into a contented sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
1827
Marcus entered his wife’s bedchamber and smiled at the gorgeous picture she made. Sitting at her vanity, she was dressed in a vibrant fuchsia gown that emphasized her tempting figure. Her maid Jenny stood by her side, an open jewelry chest before them.
The maid tied a pearl choker around Penny’s neck, muttering, “No, that’s not quite right either, is it, milady?”
Apparently, he’d come just in time. He came forward.
“Marcus… you look splendid,” Penny said, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.
He loved the breathy quality to her voice when she said that. When she looked at him this way as if, to her, he were the only man on earth, and she saw no one else. It made him feel powerful and bloody lucky… and he had to stop thinking about how lucky he was or he would ruin the smoothly pressed front of his trousers with a raging cockstand.
Pausing at Penny’s side, he bent and kissed her cheek, breathing in the subtle allure of jasmine and neroli.
“I can take it from here,” he told the maid.
Jenny, being a longtime retainer, had a knowing twinkle in her eyes. Placing the pearls back into the jewelry chest, she closed its lid and, with a quick curtsy, scurried off.
Marcus removed the flat velvet box from his pocket and handed it to Penny.
“Our tenth anniversary isn’t until next week,” she said, smiling at him.
“I know. But since our Summer Soiree is about to begin and, knowing you, the house will be Bedlam and run over with eager guests,”—he winked to let her know he was teasing her—“I thought you might like to debut this tonight.”
“You’re the best of husbands,” she said, her voice tremulous.
He loved that she thought that—and she hadn’t yet seen her present.
“Open it, darling,” he said.
She did, and the gasp that left her lips was worth every penny he’d spent on the extravagant piece of jewelry.
“Marcus… it’s extraordinary,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything this beautiful.”
“I have,” he murmured. “Let me help you put it on.”
He lifted the necklace and set it against his marchioness’ satiny skin. He smiled in satisfaction at the reflection. The collar of large, deep red rubies connected by strands of flawless diamonds suited his Penny perfectly.
His eyes met hers in the mirror.
“For my wife,” he said huskily, “whose price is above rubies.”
Penny’s eyes shimmered. “It’s too much. But I love it. I love you.”
“As I love you, my darling.”
She came to her feet and threw her arms around his neck with a ferocity that might have knocked over a lesser man. He merely wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I don’t deserve you, Marcus. I don’t,” she said, her voice muffled. “But I’ll make you proud, I swear it.”
Puzzled, he set her back, looked into her tear-bright eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Penny. I couldn’t be prouder to be your husband. If you don’t know that, then I’m doing something wrong.”
“I do… I do know it.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I… oh, I’m overwhelmed. Thank you, Marcus. For the necklace. For loving me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, “though no thanks are necessary.”
She expelled a breath, smoothed her skirts. Nabbing a handkerchief from the vanity, she dabbed at her eyes. “Heavens, I must look a fright. And with guests coming at any moment, too.”
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said solemnly.
“Don’t—you’re going to make me cry again.”
“All right. I’ll save my praise for after the party.”
“That you can do.” In one of her lightning quick changes, she flashed a sultry smile that made his blood run hotter. “At that time, I’ll give you your proper thanks, too.”
“We have a deal.” He offered her his arm. “Ready to greet the mob, Lady Blackwood?”
“Of course, Lord Blackwood.”
They went down to welcome their guests.
Chapter Twenty-Five
December 1829
The smashing of China greeted Penny as she entered the foyer, Marcus at her side.
“Ethan made me do it!” Owen immediately jabbed a finger at his brother.
“I did not. You’re just a clumsy oaf,” Ethan shot back.
“I’m not an oaf!” Owen’s face turned red. “If you hadn’t pushed me when we were going round the corner, I wouldn’t have bumped the table, and the vase wouldn’t have fallen. It’s your fault.”
“I saw everything,” Jamie volunteered. “Owen was running too fast, and Ethan pushed him. Therefore, it was both their faults.”
“Tattletale,” Ethan muttered.
“Boys.” The dowager’s cane rapped the marble floor. She came up slowly behind the squabbling trio, her eyes narrowed above the froth of black lace that covered her to her chin. “That’s quite enough out of you. Your parents have only just arrived home, and there you are carrying on like residents of Bedlam.”
Before the dowager could scold them some more, Penny intervened. Opening her arms, she said, “Come say hello, my darlings.”
They rushed forward. She hugged them each in turn, inhaling their little boy smells and kissing their sweet, squirmy cheeks. Lord, how she’d missed them.
Jamie escaped to his father. “I learned a theorem by Pythagorus this week, Papa,” he said, man-to-man. “I can derive a proof from it.”
Marcus clapped a hand on their eldest’s shoulder. “That’s quite an accomplishment, son.”
“I’ve been reading all about the Romans.” Ethan bounded over. “I know the Emperors by heart, beginning with Augustus.”
“Well done, Ethan. We’ll hear a recitation before supper,” Marcus said.
Owen approached his father last. He crooked his finger, and Marcus obligingly bent down so that their youngest could whisper something in his ear. When he straightened, his lips were curved.
“That’s quite an accomplishment, lad,” he said.
Owen beamed with relief. “You think so, Papa?”
Marcus placed a big hand atop Owen’s dark mop. “Absolutely.”
“What did you tell Papa that you did?” Ethan said.
“It’s between me and Papa.” Owen lifted his chin. “And I won’t tell you because you’ll just make fun.”
“Only if it’s something stupid,” Ethan retorted.
“I’m not stupid!”
“Boys.” Marcus’ firm tone cut the squabble short. “Let us remove to the drawing room where you may each fill me in on the rest of your week.”
“Yes, Papa,” the three chorused as one.
Marcus winked at Penny, stopped to kiss her lightly on the mouth, and led the way out. Falling obediently in line, the boys trooped after their father.
“I don’t know how he does that,” Penny mused aloud.
Her mama-in-law snorted. “He does that by not coddling them and spoiling them rotten.”
Although tempted to argue, Penny decided to take the higher road. The fact that she was fairly floating on happiness made it easier to bite her tongue.
“It was kind of you to look after the boys in our absence. Thank you,” she said politely.
“Given the perilous state of your marriage, I had no choice. So let us dispense with the formalities—I’m far too old for such nonsense.” The dowager waved an impatient hand. “What I want to know is whether you’ve succeeded in winning my son back from that licentious tart Cora Ashley.”
Penny stared at th
e older lady. “How… how did you know about Lady Ashley?”
“The whole Town’s abuzz over it. Some wag saw you running from your own ball as if the devil himself were after you. Someone else saw my Marcus emerging from a balcony and that despicable Lady Ashley came out of the same said balcony not two minutes later.” The dowager’s knuckles whitened on the jeweled knob of her cane. “Everyone’s put two and two together and come up with four. I knew about the gossip even before you came to me for help, but since you looked as lost as a babe in the woods, I decided you didn’t need to trip over rumors whilst you were attempting to find your path. I assumed that your little business trip with Marcus was an attempt to win my son back.” Her mama-in-law arched a brow. “Since the two of you appear to be lovebirds once again, your plan succeeded, did it not?”
Penny didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or grateful. “First of all, I didn’t have to win Marcus back from anyone,” she retorted. “Especially not the likes of Cora Ashley. He loves me and only me.”
“I know that. I raised my son to be a good and loyal man, and he would never betray the vows he made to his wife. Even so, one tempts Fate by leaving the doors open wide and unlocked for any thief to march through.” The dowager aimed a stern look at her. “You really must guard your valuables better in the future, my dear.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Penny said through her teeth.
“Well, then, that’s settled.” Her mama-in-law gave her an imperious look. “There’s only one more thing to attend to.”
“And that is?”
“Suppressing the scandal, of course. We can’t have the world thinking anything’s amiss between the Blackwoods.” The dowager’s eyes narrowed. “I never liked that Cora Ashley. Always said she was too common by far.”
Penny could actually feel the divots in her tongue, formed by the many times she’d had to bite it during this conversation. But… she would let bygones be bygones.
“’Tis easier to stop the flow of the Thames than gossip once it’s started,” she stated.
Her mama-in-law harrumphed. “Shows how much you know, my girl. Well, take it from one who has been around the ton several decades longer than you: there’s a solution for everything. It is merely a matter of committing one’s mind to the problem.”
The Lady Who Came in from the Cold Page 16
