“I’ve always been on the dangerous side.”
“I know.” He bent and lifted her into his arms. “While I have always taken the safe road.” He kissed her and started toward the stairs. “But no more, sweetheart. No more.”
He kicked the door to his bedchamber open, strode across the room and dropped her in the middle of the bed. She giggled as she bounced several times.
The room was dark, with scant moonlight filtering through the window. She could not see much of the room, only make out shadows of furniture. Jonathan bent and lit a candelabra on the small table alongside the bed. “I want to see what I have been dreaming about for weeks.”
Marigold sat up and climbed to her knees. “Me, too.”
He knelt next to her. “You have been dreaming, as well?”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Oh, yes.”
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. With one swift movement, he had her shirt pulled from her breeches, and over her head. She did the same with him, until they were both free of their clothing.
He eased her back until she laid on the bed, her unbound hair spread out on the pillow. He sucked in a breath and just stared at her. “You are so beautiful, you take my breath away.”
Her confidence faltered, and she moved to cover herself with her hands.
“No, you don’t.” He took her hands and laid them by her side. “I have waited for this moment for quite some time. Please let me look my fill.”
After a few moments, he seemed to sense her unease, and laid next to her to pull her in for a deep kiss. That helped to rekindle her passion, and she returned his kiss with a fervor that matched his.
His hands swept her body, dipping into her curves, kneading the flesh of her breasts. She grew damp between her legs and felt a tightening in her stomach. Jonathan placed his mouth on one of her breasts and suckled, increasing the wonderful feelings.
Not one to be passive, she lightly drew her fingers over his manhood. He sucked in a breath, and she squeezed harder. “Yes, sweetheart. That feels good. The only problem is this won’t last very long if you continue to do that.”
She had no idea how wonderful the feelings were once a man was touching your naked skin. And she touching his. Her breasts felt heavy, and the moisture between her legs increased. In her study of anatomy, she knew very well what was happening to her body. Passion. Desire.
His fingers made his way to the area between her legs, flicking, touching, circling her moisture. She shifted her legs, feeling restless, needing something more. “That’s it, sweetheart, come for me.”
Although not completely sure what he meant, she knew there was something else that would increase the feelings she had. She pressed against his fingers and felt a slight jolt. “More.”
“Yes, honey. Hang on. Don’t push, let me do the work.”
Her breathing increased, sweat broke out on her body, and all her attention was focused on the part of her body that Jonathan worked so diligently. After a few moments of licking her dry lips and tightening the muscles in her legs, she felt an explosion within her body like nothing she’d ever felt before. A rather loud moan escaped her, and she pushed hard against his hand, riding the wave of pleasure.
Once she slumped into the mattress, feeling absolutely boneless, Jonathan used his knee to widen her thighs and climbed between them, his hips fitted against hers. “This may hurt at first, but I promise it will only be for a second.”
She knew about her maidenhead, and how breaking the barrier could hurt, but she wanted to feel him inside her so much, it mattered not. As he began to ease himself into her, she pushed up and he slid all the way in, his jaw tight as he stared at her, a slight smile pursing his lips. The books were right, the slight pinch only lasted a few seconds and then the fullness felt good.
Jonathan slid in and out of her body, as he held her head with his hands and kissed her. His movements grew frantic as she moved with him. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold out any longer.” After a few more thrusts, he shoved one last time, then pulled out of her, spilling his seed on her belly.
She played with his damp hair as he rested his head on her shoulder, them both breathing deeply, her heart pounding in rhythm next to his.
Yes, an affair would be quite the thing.
Chapter Fourteen
Jonathan awoke with a jerk. Something warm and soft was cuddled in front of him.
Marigold!
He quickly checked the china clock on the table next to his bed where the candles in the candelabra had burned almost completely down. Five o’clock in the morning.
He shook her shoulder, but she burrowed deeper into the covers. “Sweetheart, you have to wake up. I need to get you home. It will be light soon.”
“No. I’m too tired, and I’m nice and warm.”
Panic hit him at the thought of her being caught leaving his house at this hour. They had to get her home and inside her house within the next half hour, or daylight would arrive and the chances of her being spotted would increase.
“No. Up you go.” He tossed the covers off and she yelped as the cold air hit her naked body.
She scrambled to pull the covers back, but he held them away from the bed. “No. Listen to me, Marigold. It is five o’clock in the morning. You must get home before someone sees you leave here and return home.”
She peeked at him through strands of her hair. “Five o’clock?”
“Yes.”
As if shot from a cannon, she was up and pulling on her clothes. “Hurry. Get dressed.”
Jonathan yawned and pulled on his clothes, fumbling in the dark. Within minutes they were clothed and downstairs. “I don’t want to take time to ready the carriage, so since you’re wearing breeches anyway, we will take my horse. If anyone does spot us, it will look like two men on the horse.”
They made their way to the mews where the groom on duty quickly tacked his horse, and they were on their way. “I’m taking you to the back door.”
Marigold shivered. The morning air was chilly, but he was sweating with his fear of the retribution for her if she was caught. Not only would they be forced to marry, which was something he’d decided halfway through their tupping, anyway, but it would take years for her reputation to recover, and he did not want to start off his marriage with a baroness under a cloud of scandal.
He would not relax until she was behind closed doors. He never should have fallen asleep after they’d had sex. It was so unusually odd for him to do, that he was still amazed.
Truth be told, as a gentleman, all his encounters until now had been with mistresses and the occasional lonely widow, but he’d always felt energized afterward and anxious to leave their bed and resume his day, or night.
Lying with Marigold had been so different. It had seemed perfectly normal to cozy up to her once they finished, and then found himself awakening from a deep, contented sleep. “We must have a serious discussion.”
Marigold nodded. “I agree. We have to figure out how we are going to proceed with our investigation to find the journal and uncover the murderer.”
“That is not what I mean, but we will discuss that, as well.” They had arrived at her house, and he quickly went to the mews behind the row of townhouses. It was still dark but beginning to lighten as the sun started its ascent for the day.
He hopped off the horse and lifted her down. “I will see you to your door.”
Heads down, hoping if they were spotted an observer would assume they were servants, he shuffled her through the garden and to the back door. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Go now. I will call on you this afternoon.”
Stifling a yawn, she nodded, opened the door and disappeared.
Now that she was safely in her house, fatigue hit him, and he scrubbed his face with his hands. What he needed now was several hours of sleep. He would call on Marigold this afternoon, explain the situation to her, and then ask to speak with Lord Pomeroy.
He was a bit conce
rned about how she thought they would continue with trying to find the journal. At this point it had all become much too dangerous.
It was on the ride home that he remembered Mr. Townsend, a friend of his from Eton. He’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but his father, the Viscount Latham had paid for him to have a decent education. He was a friendly sort, always willing to help, which is what made him accepted at school. At least no more unaccepted than any of the other boys were.
School was sometimes a difficult place to be since most of the teachers turned their attention away from scuffling among their students, with the excuse that they needed to learn how to handle themselves.
Townsend had taken a position with Scotland Yard after time spent in His Majesty’s Service. He told Jonathan that after Boney’s defeat, military life had not appealed to him. With his father’s permission, he sold his commission and decided law enforcement was his forte.
To soothe Marigold’s quest for justice, he would speak with Townsend at his club later in the day to find out whatever information was available about the murder. With any luck, his former schoolmate might even be willing to keep him abreast of the investigation.
Hopefully that would satisfy Marigold and keep her out of further trouble.
***
Marigold closed the back door of her home, and quietly made her way down the corridor, past the servants’ quarters. They would be stirring soon to begin preparing the house for the day. She went up the back stairway and lightly tread to her room, avoiding the known creaky boards. Breathing a sigh of relief, she entered her room.
And looked straight into Lady Crampton’s eyes.
Shock almost had her swooning again until she remembered she did not swoon. She closed the door and took in a deep breath. Lady Crampton was clothed in her nightgown and dressing robe and sat on Marigold’s bed, her arms crossed. “Good morning, Lady Marigold.”
Marigold licked her suddenly dry lips, her heart pounding and her stomach roiling almost enough to bring up her stomach contents. “I can explain.”
“Please do.”
Before she started she had to know if the worse had happened. “Does Papa know?”
“No. Or should I say not yet.”
Marigold nodded, understanding she was very close to disaster. “It’s a long story, and I am quite fatigued. Is it possible we can have this conversation later?”
Lady Crampton’s brows rose. “And give you time to make up some sort of story you think I am foolish enough to believe? I think not.”
Marigold nodded again and ran her sweaty palms down her legs. “I didn’t think so.”
“Before you start, I want you to understand I am so very relieved to see you. I had been afraid you and Lord Stanley had eloped, which would have destroyed your father. However, I am not mistaken that this little adventure of yours tonight included his lordship?”
Another nod.
“You may begin.” Lady Crampton scooted over on the bed and patted the space alongside her. “Sit. You look quite pale, my dear. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were about to swoon.”
“I don’t swoon.”
“So you’ve said many times before.” She waved her arm. “Continue.”
“You see, it all started with a journal.” Marigold continued with her story, leaving out the part where they visited the morgue, which she was afraid would cause Lady Crampton a complete collapse, but was forced to mention Dr. Stevenson since she had to explain where she was tonight.
“You broke into someone’s house and found a dead body!” Lady Crampton’s face grew pale and her breathing increased. Perhaps she should have left that part of the story out, too. Except then she would not have any story to tell, and she didn’t think her chaperone would believe she and Jonathan were out strolling Hyde Park.
“Yes, we did,” she hurried on before Lady Crampton could escape her room and summon her father. “But no one saw us. I am sure the police will be notified, and they will investigate the matter.”
Apparently stunned into silence, Lady Crampton continued to stare at her. After a few minutes of Marigold fidgeting, waiting for her to speak, she said, “I must say, Marigold, I have no words. In fact, I need to digest what you’ve told me after I’ve had some sleep.”
She stood and hugged her. “You need some sleep as well.” With those few words, she headed to the door, shaking her head.
“Lady Crampton?”
She turned, her hand on the latch. “Yes, dear.”
“Will you tell Papa?”
“I do not wish to be the cause of his sudden death.” She left the room, closing the door silently as she departed.
Marigold sighed and removed her clothes. She would love a bath but didn’t want to summon the household staff so early with all the other duties they had. Giving her hands and face a quick wash, she pulled on her nightgown, crawled into bed and was fast asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
The expected summons came later in the afternoon. Marigold had slept well past noon, had a bath, a breakfast tray in her room, and spent the rest of the time sitting on the window box seat in her bedchamber, pretending to read a book, but actually relieving the night before.
She was no longer a maiden. The thought both thrilled and frightened her. But now that the deed had been done, perhaps Jonathan would be more receptive to an affair. She was a woman of the world, after all. She felt no need to saddle herself with a husband.
As she made her way downstairs, her bravado took a flight at the thought of facing Papa. But instead of him waiting for her in the library, the footman directed her to the drawing room where Jonathan awaited her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the room. “Oh, it’s only you.”
His brows rose to his hairline. “That is quite a nebulous greeting.”
“Oh, my apologies.” She took a seat on the edge of the settee. “I see tea has already been ordered.”
“Yes. I visited with Lady Crampton for a little bit before she sent for you to join me. This one is a replacement for the one we just finished.”
“Oh, dear.” Perhaps this visit would not be so pleasant after all. “What did you speak of?” She tried to show her indifference by pouring tea for the two of them, but her shaky hand gave her away.
“Apparently, you are aware that she knows where you were last night.”
Marigold snorted. “Since I was the one who told her—after finding her waiting for me in my bedchamber—I am fully aware of what she knows.”
Jonathan accepted the cup of tea from her hand. “Now that she is apprised of the situation, continuing in this matter must now come to an end.”
“I don’t agree.”
“I didn’t think you would. However, Lady Crampton is no one to fool with. She told me if I allowed you to continue in this situation, she would advise your father about our escapade last night.”
“You mean she hasn’t told him?” Even though her chaperone had made the statement about not causing her papa’s sudden death, Marigold really didn’t think she wouldn’t tell him.
“No. And for that you should be most grateful.”
“Indeed, I am very grateful.” She shifted in her seat and asked eagerly, “What will you do from here?”
“I have a friend in the Bow Street Runners, Mr. Townsend. I think he might be willing to help in an informal sort of way.”
“Oh, how wonderful to have a friend there. When do you plan to visit with Mr. Townsend?”
“Soon.” He took a sip of tea, and then sat back. “But before we delve into that, I wish to discuss something with you.”
She couldn’t imagine what would be more important that visiting with the man from Scotland Yard and getting information on the murder. “Go on.”
“I have decided it is time to marry.”
Botheration! Just as she was ready to commit to an affair, he decided to up and marry and leave her. “Well, that is annoying. Who is the unfortunate lady?”
Jonathan choked on his tea and stared at her in disbelief. “You!”
Chapter Fifteen
Jonathan placed his teacup in the saucer. “Marigold, why would I propose marriage to anyone else? We have been intimate. You might be carrying my child.”
Marigold chewed her lip. “I was afraid you were going to say that. However, in my studies in anatomy, I know how children are conceived. You withdrew, so your seed did not enter me. Therefore, it is highly unlikely I am pregnant.”
Jonathan scrubbed his face with his hands. “You say the most outrageous things. No gently reared young lady should know about that. Or speak of it. It is not done.”
“Neither is lying with a man one is not married to, but we did it. Did we not?”
He groaned and hopped up. He paced for a minute, running his fingers through his hair. “Yes. We did. That is precisely why we must marry. If word got out, if anyone saw you leave my house, if anyone saw me escort you to your back door, you would be ruined.”
The mulish expression on her face told him an argument was about to ensue, but before she could say a word, the butler entered the room. “My lord. Your presence is requested in the library. Lord Pomeroy awaits you.”
Lord Pomeroy awaits you.
His stomach dropped to his feet and he broke into a sweat. Lady Crampton said she would not tell Lord Pomeroy if Marigold ceased her investigatory activities. But, nevertheless, Jonathan had a feeling his lordship had not requested his presence so they could share a brandy again.
“Very well.” He turned to Marigold. “Do not leave the house. This conversation is not finished.”
She drew herself up and he knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. Lady Marigold Smith was not the sort of woman one ordered about. Before she could give him a good lashing with her tongue, he bowed and made a quick exit behind the butler.
Lord Pomeroy appeared as pleasant as he had the last time the two of them had shared a brandy. Except this time tea service had been set out. Jonathan’s visit had certainly kept the kitchen busy. Visits with three household members, three tea services. He would most likely float out of the house.
For the Love of the Baron Page 9
