Finally, she felt his cock jump and warmth spill inside her. He yelled out, then collapsed, a series of inarticulate grunts followed. Her legs, now wobbling, slipped down off his narrow hips and back onto the bed. She gently nudged him and he rolled onto his back off her.
Willie stared at the ceiling above, basking in the glory of her pleasure. Within seconds, the room around her started to get small and then faded to black completely.
Chapter 15
It was freezing.
George opened his eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness before he got up. He looked toward the fireplace where the embers from the evening before were barely glowing.
He’d made love to Willie.
It was even better than he remembered. She was no longer the young, timid girl of ten and eight who’d given him her virtue. She was now a more experienced widow who knew what she wanted and worked to get it. She’d always been a bit of a wanton, which he never minded for a moment, but now there was a new, mature sensuality.
His leg was doing better and he was able to limp, unassisted, to the fire, careful not to wake her. He used the nearby poker to stoke the wood, but found it difficult to stay on task with her lying on the bed. He kept looking back, admiring Willie in her current state of disarray. Her breasts were exposed and her gown was riding up just high enough to expose one long, lean leg.
She hadn’t changed at all.
After it was lit and he felt comfortable leaving it alone, he made his way back to the bed. He was desperate to dip his head and take one of the dark tips of her breasts into his mouth and suckle until she was properly roused, and aroused. But that could wait.
For now, he wanted to appreciate her.
When they were younger, he was always the first to fall asleep. One day, he’d caught her staring at him. He’d woken up to the most peculiar feeling of being watched and when he confronted her about it she explained that she was only studying him. She had wanted to remember him just that way – at peace, because there were no worries in dreams.
Now it was his turn. Her long, blonde hair fanned out across the blankets. When she’d left the room, she’d put it up in a haphazard bun, but he’d been fortunate that she’d let it hang down her back for much of their time together. It was straight and thick – the bane of her existence as he remembered. She would fuss and fuss, forever placing pins and clips in the mess, trying to get it to stay in place. Every so often, he’d purposely remove one of those pins so that it would all fall down in a heavy, sunshine-colored curtain down her back. She’d slap his arm and call him awful, but it was all in fun. She’d the most beautiful head of hair he’d ever seen on a woman.
Now, he reached out and felt one of the tendrils behind her fingers – corn silk. She still slept, her face calm and serene. He bent down and kissed the top of her forehead.
Like in a fairy tale, she woke.
“George, what are you doing?”
“Watching you. How did you manage to remain exactly the same all this time?”
To his disappointment, she reached over and pulled a blanket over her. “It’s freezing in here.”
“It’ll be warm again soon.” He nodded toward the fireplace. “Now, did you make a deal with the devil or some such nonsense?”
Willie rolled her eyes. “You’ve always been such a hopeless flirt.”
“Accomplished,” he corrected. “Not at all hopeless. I am wildly proficient.”
She smiled, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. “Time has been kind to you also.”
He pointed at himself. “You couldn’t possibly be talking to me? My hair is turning gray at the temples and I’m afraid I’ve become all soft on the sides.”
“You weren’t soft at all. You were quite firm actually.” Her face turned scarlet having given the compliment.
It pleased him. What man didn’t love to be flattered by a lovely woman? Granted, he did have some gray in his hair that wasn’t there before, but he knew his body rivaled that of his twenty-two-year-old self. He’d been fishing for compliments and she’d taken the bait. His ego had never been happier.
“There’s at least a couple hours until sun up…” He propped himself up on one elbow on the bed next to her. “Perhaps we can take a bit more time and properly explore what’s changed and what has stayed the same.”
Willie took the blanket and tucked it up under her chin. “We need to be more careful this time.”
“Careful?”
“I’m talking about children. We should take some sort of precaution.”
He thought for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I just assumed since you had no children from your marriage that perhaps…”
She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t the case at all. I am capable, I just haven’t had the opportunity.”
He tried to understand, but it didn’t make sense. “But you were married?”
“In name only,” she corrected. “I told you. My husband and I were friends. Our relationship did not extend into the bedroom.”
“Oh,” was all he could say. “So that means…”
“That you are the only man I’ve ever been with.”
His heart swelled with a strange sort of pride to know that she’d never been with anyone else. It pleased him. “Well then, we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
She cast him a sideways glance. “Are you certain that’s a good idea? What about your leg?”
He sat up and positioned himself behind her on the bed. “My leg is feeling much better.” He began unbuttoning the small, fabric-covered buttons going down her back. “Despite the chill in the air, your skin is quite warm to touch.” He shifted her hair over to one side and kissed the newly exposed shoulder.
“George…”
He reached in front of her and took the blanket, then pushed the gown down so that it gathered in a heap at her waist. “Now, stand up so I can finish getting that monstrosity off you.”
She complied, laughing. “It is a bit garish, isn’t it?”
The dress fell to her feet. Willie stood in front of her completely exposed. She didn’t try and cover herself, nor did she blush. She wasn’t a timid girl, but an utterly confident woman. Nothing could be sexier.
He inhaled, shakily. “Willie…” he started, not having a clue as to what to say. There was so much, but his mind had gone completely blank at the sight in front of him.
Instead, he reached out and brought her to him, positioning her between his legs. He hugged his arms around her legs and pressed his face against her abdomen, breathing her in.
In just a moment, he would make love to her. It would be slow and wonderful and…not enough. One night was not enough, it would never be. He wanted her forever, he always had. This evening had been like a piece of heaven, whereas he’d spent the last ten years in a proverbial hell without her. He’d been suffocating in his own lonely existence – she was his air. He needed her, and the thought of parting ways in the morning was terrifying.
“George? Are you all right?”
He looked up. “I have never felt better in all my life.”
*
George watched her close the trunk from his position on the bed. He’d begged her not to get out of bed, but she’d insisted on making the room presentable before leaving. He argued that there were servants paid to do as much, but she’d presented him with some ridiculous notion that she couldn’t let the servants think she wasn’t a conscientious person.
“There,” she said, wiping her hands on her skirt front. She was wearing another one of Kitty’s dresses – this one mint. It wasn’t as tight as the other, but was still a far cry from the modesty of her widow’s weeds. “All done.”
“Now, will you sit down? Maybe take something to break your fast.” He had brought up a tray for them to share, but she refused to eat until the work was done.
“Perhaps I will,” she surprised him, sitting down at the table across the room. “I need to take a moment and rest.”
“Are you certain you have to rest?” He waggled his eyebrows.
She shook her head. “Really, George? Is that all you think about?”
“When it’s that enjoyable, how can you expect me to think of anything else? You should rest, though. You might be catching a cold. It wouldn’t surprise me after being out of doors during that horrific downpour.”
Willie helped herself to an orange and started peeling. “Generally speaking, I don’t really catch colds. I’ve been the picture of good health since the last time…” her voice trailed off.
“When?”
She continued peeling. “After our fight. I became quite ill a few weeks after. That was really the last time I can remember being significantly ill.”
“Before we left London, I heard something.” He leaned back against the headboard. “It was right after your aunt accosted—”
“My aunt didn’t accost you,” she corrected.
“My apologies,” he replied. “When your aunt had me forcibly removed from my carriage and escorted into her drawing room…is that better?”
“Much,” she answered with a curt bob of her head.
“I heard her remark that you almost lost your life before. Twice.” He noticed she paused briefly before continuing opening her orange at a faster pace. “That sounds quite a bit more serious than simply falling ill.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, staring down at her work. “You heard all that?”
“Not all of it. Will you tell me what happened?”
She was tearing her fruit apart at an almost frantic pace. “It’s in the past.” Her voice was flat, as if reciting a passage she’d memorized before. “There is no reason to talk about it now.”
“It was serious, then. If it happened to you, I want to know about it,” he pressed.
“It’s in the past,” she repeated. Her tone was more deliberate now, a decisive statement meant to effectively end the conversation.
But he didn’t want to stop talking, or even change the subject. There’d been so much going on back in London that he’d heard the words but not put much meaning behind them. Now, he’d had time to think, to reflect. The more time he spent with Willie, the more he learned about her life during those lost years, the more that statement ate away at him.
Something happened to Willie, something quite tragic. He had his hunch, but he needed to hear it from her, to confirm his worst thoughts.
“Tell me,” he pleaded. “Please. I want to know.”
Finally, she stopped. “Why?”
He knew why. Ten years later and it was as if no time had passed at all. He knew the words, the words that were close to erupting from him. But he just couldn’t bring himself to utter them aloud, fearing the declaration was too heavy to carry on the back of this fledgling friendship. He loved her, and before he told her, he wanted to know about this secret she was harboring. “You said you wrote to me for help, but I never received the letter. Then suddenly you married a man I’d never heard of before. I’ve never claimed to be nearly as intelligent as you are, but forgive me for asking. Were you with child?” he asked, hoping his prompt would embolden her.
Slowly, she resumed eating her orange, still not bother to look up at him. “Yes.”
It was as if the floor had fallen out from underneath him. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him. She’d been pregnant. That was why Aunt Louisa had been so angry. “Tell me, Willie. I need to know. I need to know everything. What happened to the child?” There were so many questions…
She continued nibbling as she spoke. “I lost the baby. When I started bleeding, my aunt told me that it would most likely be uneventful. I remember being so scared and she just patted me on the shoulder, patronizing me, dismissing my fear. She said women lost babies every day and to just wait for it to clear up and I would be just fine. She said that what was happening to me was routine and nothing to make a fuss out of.”
George sat, frozen. To hear the loss of a life dismissed with such carelessness – he couldn’t imagine. “And was it?”
She shook her head. “Heavens no. The bleeding worsened. I was so weak, I couldn’t walk. I laid there in my bed with nothing else to do but to stare at the ceiling and think about all that had happened—the sadness, the regret, the sense of loss. The physical pain was intense and awful, but it didn’t hold a candle to the pain I felt in my chest, my heart.”
“I was losing my baby and there was nothing I could do about it. I know it sounds like a daft idea now, but I wanted that baby – it was ours. We made it, together. And no matter what your feelings of me were at that moment in time, I knew our child was a product of the greatest love I would ever know. I was numb to the fact that I was actually, physically deteriorating, I was just so heartbroken that I was losing the beautiful child that we’d created, and really, losing you. That child was all I had of you and I wasn’t ready to give it up, even if that meant dying in the process of trying to keep it.”
She sighed. “Much of what I remember from that point on, I’ve been told. I eventually fainted from the blood loss. Aunt Louisa sent for a physician who didn’t know at all what he was doing. He mentioned that I’d most likely die of fever if he could manage to get the bleeding to subside. A most promising prognosis.”
She looked at him smiling at her little quip. He found no reason to smile given the news.
“Fortunately, one of the servants recognized what was happening and sent for a midwife that she herself had used once. She helped remove whatever was left and after that, the bleeding stopped.”
George remained seated on the bed. Willie spoke as if in a trance, and he feared any movement from him would stop the words from coming out.
“She said you nearly died twice.”
“Oh, yes, well, that was the first time. I sent you a letter. I thought you should know…that you would want to know of the existence of our child. I’d known I was carrying your baby when we had our final argument. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to marry me out of some sense of duty and honor. I wanted you to marry me because you loved me. I didn’t want a marriage built on guilt, that’s not a strong enough foundation for what we needed. My aunt knew. She said that if you truly cared for me, then you would come to me. I sent you the letter, and you never came. Meanwhile, she’d taken the liberty of contacting a distant relative, a good man who’d no real desire to marry, but was easily compelled. If I didn’t marry him, then I would be ruined, and if I were ruined, then everyone who knew me would in turn be ruined. It’s a bit like the plague, you see. Pregnancy is not communicable, but it does have a tendency to taint everyone it touches. I agreed to marry Mr. Turner because I thought you were gone from my life forever. I couldn’t bear to see Kitty’s future destroyed because of my foolish choices.”
“But when you lost the baby, couldn’t you have broken the engagement?”
“I’d made a commitment to Mr. Turner. Aunt Louisa was still devastated that I’d turned out to be such a disappointment. She’d booked passage to the Continent just to put space between herself and what I’d allowed my life to become. I felt dejected. You never came for me and my aunt was devastated. I refused to eat, drink, or walk. I laid in the same bed for weeks, a ghost of myself, living in name only. I wanted to die, to be with my child.”
George felt the wetness on his own cheek, wiping it away with the back of his hand. “But you recovered?”
“I did.” Willie worried her hands. “My aunt had no luck at all bringing me out of my darkness. But she knew there was one person that could help, the only person that could possibly bring me back. She sent Kitty in. Kitty took one look at me and cried like a baby. She was so young and had already lost so much in her life. I had created such havoc in my family’s life. All that happened because I acted on a whim, motivated by youthful impulse. I was so headstrong that I never stopped to think about the consequences. I’d asked you to leave your Marquisate behind, I brought shame upon the family, and I had jeopardized Kitty�
��s prospects. I realized that I had to recover and then become better in every sense of the word.”
She started cleaning up the orange peels. “I did what I could until Aunt Louisa came back to England. By then, she could see that I’d turned my life around. I was no longer whimsical or romantic. That was my mother– she married for love and married my father who was far below her station. She had higher hopes for me and I had let her down, just like everyone else in her life. Aunt Louisa needed to know that I’d learned from my mistakes before she welcomed us back. I had to understand that there were consequences. Nothing comes without a cost.”
George swallowed the tears that threatened to fall at any moment. It was worse than he could have ever imagined. She’d lost their child, alone. While he was out, running around Town from party to party, she’d been suffering. He should have been there, he needed to have been there.
She did not weep. Willie told the story as if it happened to someone else. He supposed she had to, having lived with it for so long. There was no way to change the narrative, it had happened. But he could change the future. He loved her and knew that she had loved him, and hopefully, loved him still.
“We should get going,” she said, her voice disturbingly chipper.
“Willie…” he pleaded, reaching out for her. There were no words, but he could kiss her. He could hold her and it wouldn’t change anything, but it would go a long way toward making him feel better. He needed her to know that he hurt, too, and that she wasn’t alone in her grief.
“No.” She took a step back. “I don’t want your pity. You asked to know the truth, so I told you. And now you can understand why I can’t let myself become tangled up again. My happiness comes at a cost that I am not prepared to pay.”
A knock at the door startled them both.
George wanted to ignore it, but the knocker was persistent.
“Yes?” he answered, greeting the servant more harshly than deserved. “What is it?”
It was the delivery fellow from the day before. “Mrs. Follmer asked to see you. She says it’s urgent.”
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 13
