It Happened One Season

by Stephanie Laurens

  With a low moan, he lifted his head and Penelope forced her heavy eyelids open. The fire burning in his eyes scorched and utterly amazed her. “Say you’ll marry me,” he demanded in a low, intense voice.

  “Captain Trentwell, I—”

  “Alec. Say you’ll marry me, Penelope.”

  That heat blazing from his eyes melted away whatever bit of resistance she might have retained. He obviously didn’t love her but he claimed to admire her, and there was no refuting the confounding yet obvious evidence of his desire.

  Even before seeing him in person she’d liked and respected and admired him—feelings that had only increased upon their meeting. And as for desire … never had she dreamed she could feel such aching want. Certainly many marriages were based on far less than what they already shared, and she didn’t doubt that given time she could, and would, grow to love him. Could he, would he grow to love her?

  Did that really matter?

  Her heart said yes, but her practical mind said no. It didn’t matter. What mattered was he’d offered her a future. And she’d be a fool to turn him down.

  She moistened her lips and whispered the words that would change her life.

  “I will marry you.”

  He briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, the intensity of his gaze simultaneously froze her in place and heated her to her core. He released her and moved to the desk, returning with the pearl ring. “It was my mother’s,” he said quietly. “I hope you like it.”

  Penelope gazed at the beautiful ring and blinked back tears. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. I’ve always loved pearls. They remind me of the moon.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I also hope you don’t want a long engagement.”

  “A long engagement is not necessary.”

  “Excellent. So you’ve no objections to the wedding taking place today?”

  Penelope blinked. “Today?”

  “This afternoon. The carriage is waiting to take me to Doctor’s Commons so I can procure a special license.”

  A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat. “Heavens. You weren’t jesting when you said you wanted to get started on your heir as soon as possible.”

  He pulled her tighter against him and leaned down to brush his lips over the bit of skin behind her ear—skin she hadn’t known was so delightfully sensitive until he’d touched it. “Is that a problem?”

  “N … no. Merely a surprise.”

  He raised his head and she caught her breath at the smoldering look in his eyes. “I’m going to greatly enjoy convincing you how desirable you are, Penelope. And I’ll make certain you enjoy it as well.”

  Heavens. Surely the thought of doing that should fill her with apprehension rather than overwhelming anticipation. “I shall do my utmost to please you … Alec.”

  He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek and frowned. “I know you will. You already have. And I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  She offered him a half smile and repeated his words. “I know you will. You already have.”

  His frown deepened and he appeared troubled. “Penelope, I want you to know, that is, I need to tell you …”

  “Yes, Alec?” she prompted when he continued to merely frown.

  He opened his mouth, then shut it, then shook his head. His expression cleared, although his eyes remained troubled. “Nothing. Certainly nothing that can’t wait. Right now I must be off to Doctor’s Commons. I’ve already apprised my brother about the wedding and he’s informed his wife, who will assist you in my absence.” He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. “I’ll return soon.”

  She watched him walk toward the door and couldn’t quite hold in the sigh of appreciation that rose in her throat. He looked as marvelous exiting a room as he did entering one. The instant the door closed behind him with a quiet click, Penelope moved to the nearest chair and sat down heavily. She stared at the luminous pearl adorning her left hand and marveled at the miraculous turn her life had taken since yesterday.

  So many hopes she’d believed were beyond her reach had suddenly come true. A laugh of disbelief escaped her, followed by a sense of joy unlike anything she’d ever before experienced. Her gaze fell upon her sketchbook, and suddenly unable to sit still, she rose and crossed to the desk. Opened the tablet to the last page, then reached for the piece of charcoal she always carried in her pocket. She skimmed her finger down her wish list and drew a single line through three entries she’d never thought she’d cross off: Be kissed. Own a pearl. Get married.

  And it was all because of Alec. A man who’d touched her heart long before she’d physically met him. A man whose eyes told her he was tortured by his war experiences. A man she wanted to help heal—not only because he’d taken care of her brother during the war, but because once she had met him, he’d touched her soul. A man whose kiss turned her knees to porridge.

  A man she was determined to make happy. Because he was a man who deserved every happiness.

  Chapter Eight

  Alec was trying his damnedest to think of something, anything other than his new wife, who sat opposite him in the carriage, but the task proved utterly impossible. How could he when he had only to reach out a hand to touch her? When her delicate floral scent filled his head with every breath? When she just looked so damn desirable and he wanted her so damn badly and bloody hell, she was now his and had been for an entire two hours and sixteen minutes and would this damn carriage ride ever end?

  No, it wouldn’t—at least not for another two hours. Jesus. He’d survived more battles than he cared to recall, but not touching her for the remainder of this torturous ride to Little Longstone was going to be the death of him. And he didn’t dare touch her, because if he did, even once, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. And she certainly deserved better than having her skirts tossed up in a carriage. He was a man of control. A man of patience. He could wait.

  He stared out the window and forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths. The first hour of this seemingly endless journey had crawled by at a snail’s pace, an exercise in torment during which he’d mentally recited the alphabet backwards—one hundred and four times—then run dozens of math sums in his head.

  But nothing worked. All he could think about was how damn much he wanted his wife. Bloody hell, he couldn’t stop thinking the word. In his mind’s eye he saw his wife as she’d entered the drawing room for the simple wedding ceremony, wearing an unadorned pale yellow gown, carrying the small bouquet of pink roses he’d purchased for her on his way back from Doctor’s Commons. Her only jewelry was the pearl ring he’d given her, but to him she didn’t require anything else—the shy glow in her beautiful bespectacled eyes, coupled with her sparkling smile rendered her far more radiant than any jewels.

  With William and Jane standing witness, he and Penelope had exchanged the vows that bound them for life. A life he unexpectedly couldn’t wait to begin, a surprise, as he hadn’t anticipated the stirrings of hope and happiness seeping into him. Indeed, it had been so long since he’d felt either, he almost hadn’t recognized them.

  A life you should have begun by telling her the truth about how Edward died, you selfish bastard.

  Alec squeezed his eyes shut and bludgeoned back his conscience, which had been flaying him alive. Damn it, yes, he should have told her. After failing to do so as soon as he’d met her yesterday, he certainly should have last night. But then the urge to touch her, kiss her, had driven every other thought from his head. And of course he should have told her before marrying her, but while he’d opened his mouth to do so in the library, after she’d accepted his proposal, he’d been unable to pry the words from his throat. What if she’d changed her mind? It was a chance he hadn’t been willing to take.

  No, since he’d waited this long, there was no point now in not waiting until they were settled into married life. After she’d hopefully come to care enough for him so that forgiveness wasn’t beyond the realm
of possibility—both for what he’d done and his failure to immediately confess it. A few weeks … a month or two at the most, he assuaged his scowling conscience. Then he’d tell her. And pray that this tiny ray of light he’d been given wasn’t snuffed out.

  “Alec … are you all right?”

  His eyes popped open at the sound of her voice and he turned toward her. And stifled a groan. Bloody hell, there was no logical reason why, dressed in the same prim yellow gown she’d worn for the ceremony, topped with an equally prim dark blue spencer and matching bonnet, she should look so damn delectable, but by God she did and his fingers literally itched to muss up all that primness. To discover every soft curve his very active imagination envisioned beneath her clothing.

  He shifted in his seat in a completely unsuccessful attempt to relieve the strangulation occurring in his breeches. “I’m fine,” he lied in a voice that sounded as if he’d swallowed gravel.

  “You look … flushed.”

  No doubt because he felt as if he were roasting over a roaring flame. “It’s a bit warm in here.”

  “You seem … preoccupied. Is something amiss?”

  Only that I want you so badly I can barely sit still. “No.”

  The word came out sharper than he’d intended and he felt like a complete bastard when twin scarlet spots stained her cheeks. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You think I’m lying?”

  Another layer of color stained her cheeks. She raised her chin and said, “I think you don’t wish to hurt my feelings by saying what you’re thinking.”

  “And what am I thinking?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip, a gesture that fisted Alec’s hands. “You have regrets,” she whispered. “Over our hasty marriage. I knew you would, yet still I selfishly—” her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  Alec forced his attention away from her ripe mouth and met her distressed gaze. “Any regrets I’m feeling have absolutely nothing to do with marrying you.”

  “It is not necessary to spare my feelings.”

  “It is not your feelings I’m attempting to spare.”

  Confusion filled her eyes. “Then what?”

  Bloody hell. Well, best he tell her. He certainly didn’t want her to think he was sorry they’d wed. “It’s your virtue and maidenly sensibilities I’m trying to protect.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand. I believed our marriage would be, um, consummated.”

  “Yes. But—” Damn it, his cravat felt like a noose. He impatiently tugged on the linen knot and said, “It shouldn’t be consummated in a carriage.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you want to … here? Now?”

  A humorless sound escaped him. “So badly I cannot think properly.”

  Realization dawned in her eyes. “So the reason you’ve been brooding and preoccupied and ignoring me isn’t because you don’t want me, but rather because you … do?”

  He ground his teeth and prayed for strength. “Yes.”

  “So badly you cannot think properly.”

  “That is actually a grossly lukewarm description of how much, but yes.”

  “I see.”

  He turned to look out the window, unable to watch her recoil from his blunt words. Damn it, confessing he longed to fall on her like a rabid dog had probably not been a wise thing to do.

  She cleared her throat. “Would it help to know that I feel the same way?”

  Alec snapped his attention back to her and his heart damn near stopped at the desire glittering in her eyes. “You do?”

  Crimson flooded her cheeks. “Yes. And I’m wondering … is there any reason why our marriage shouldn’t be, um, consummated in a carriage?”

  A half dozen reasons flew into his mind starting with the fact that she was a virgin and at least deserved a bed, and ending with the carriage not offering the utmost in comfort, but he swatted them away as he would an insect. “No, no reason at all … Mrs. Trentwell.”

  Feeling as if his skin was on fire, he reached out and plucked her from her seat, then settled her across his lap. The relief he felt at finally touching her, holding her, was incinerated by the feel of her soft curves pressing against him. “Just so you fully understand,” he said, impatiently tugging on her satin bonnet strings, “your virtue is about to be completely, thoroughly compromised.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  She yanked her bonnet from her head, tossed it to the floor, and wrapped her arms around his neck. With a groan Alec buried his face in her fragrant neck. “God, you smell so damn good.” He traced his tongue down her throat while his fingers slipped the pins from her hair.

  She gasped and tilted her head. “I’m delighted you think so. In the future, in the interest of saving time, I believe it would be best for you to simply tell me what you want. Not only will I be happy to oblige you, but chances are favorable that I want the same thing.”

  “Excellent. Have I mentioned that I greatly admire your practical, logical nature, as well as your adventurous spirit?”

  “No, I don’t believe you have.”

  “A dreadful oversight on my part. Please consider yourself told. And I am happy to comply with your request—provided you return the favor and tell me what you want.” He raised his head and sifted his fingers through her loosened hair. “As for me—I want to touch you.” The mass of shiny mahogany curls tumbled over his hands, releasing a soft floral scent that made his head swim.

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  “Thank God.” He cupped her head in his palms. “To use your exact words, not only will I be happy to oblige you, but chances are favorable that I want the same thing.”

  “To use your exact words, thank God,” she murmured.

  Alec settled his mouth on hers and groaned at the sensation that swamped him … that of a man who’d just discovered shelter after a grueling journey through a horrific storm. Their tongues met, and need unlike anything he’d ever before experienced gripped him. Even while his mind commanded him to go slowly, gently, his hands attacked the fastenings on her clothing with a lack of subtlety and finesse he’d have found appalling if he’d had the wherewithal to think properly. And what little control he still possessed was disappearing at a rapid rate because his wife, his delectable, luscious, surprising wife was impatiently tugging at his clothing and squirming on his lap.

  He opened her spencer, yanked away her lace fichu, and slipped his hand inside her bodice. Warm, soft breast topped with a pebbled nipple filled his hand. She gasped against his mouth and her head fell limply back, affording him the opportunity to drag his mouth along the pale column of her throat.

  More … damn it, he needed, wanted more. With a growl of frustration he shifted them until she lay back on the velvet squabs and he reclined on his side next to her.

  She looked up at him through eyes hazy with desire. His inner voice whispered at him to tell her how beautiful she looked, flushed with arousal, but before he could form the words she reached up, fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down to meet hers in another lush, openmouthed kiss.

  Desperate, aching need filled him, one that demanded to be satisfied. He tugged down her bodice and skimmed his open mouth along her jaw, over her collarbone, then lower, until his tongue circled her taut nipple.

  “Alec …” his name whispered past her lips, then trailed off into a groan when he drew her nipple into his mouth. She strained upward, offering more of herself, an invitation he instantly accepted. She ran her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, her breathing growing more erratic with each deepening pull of his lips on her nipple.

  He coasted one hand down her body and slipped it beneath the hem of her gown, dragging the material upward as he kissed his way back to her mouth. “Spread your legs,” he demanded in a rough whisper against her lips. Her thighs fell open without hesitation, her choppy breaths hitching when his fingers glided over her folds.

  A long groan escaped him. “You’re
wet. So beautifully wet.” Her eyes slid closed as he teased her with a slow, circular motion, then slipped a finger inside her. “And tight.” His erection jerked in anticipation and he prayed he’d last long enough to bring her pleasure.

  “You’re driving me mad,” she said, her words ending on a breathy moan.

  “As you are me.”

  “I … I don’t see how.” She laid one hand against his chest and he knew she felt his heart pounding against her palm. “I want to touch you. As you’re touching me. But I’m not certain how. I don’t know what to do.”

  The fire inside him burned hotter. “It’s simple. Don’t be afraid to tell me if I do something you like.”

  She strained against his hand. “I like … ahhh … that. Very much.”

  “Or anything you don’t like.”

  “I suspect that isn’t going to be necessary.”

  “And know that if you enjoy being touched in a certain way, chances are extremely good that I’d enjoy being touched in the same manner. But we’ll save that for next time as my control is on a very short tether. Believe me, if you touch me now, this will be over before it’s begun.”

  “I … I’m not certain how much longer I can wait. I feel so achy.” She spread her legs wider. “And … desperate.”

  Bloody hell, he knew all about desperate. Unable to wait any longer, he slipped his fingers from her body, yanked his shirt from his waistband, then jerked open his breeches. His erection sprang free, an instant of relief that ended on a harsh hiss when she brushed her fingertips over him.

  Her gaze flew to his face and she pulled her hand away. “Did I hurt you?”

  Alec pulled in a ragged breath and gave his head a single quick shake. “No. Do it again.”