by Jenn LeBlanc
Perry lunged. Warrick reached out and caught him, pulling him back to the stairs.
“You have no right to even look on her, much less speak with her!” Perry roared.
“And what of you here, a viscount putting out for a ruined scullery maid? Ridiculous. At least I used her in her place and left her there. You— What? Look to pull her up to your station? You ignorant twap. I cannot even imagine what your family must think of that sort of thing.”
Perry turned and glanced up at Lilly, who stood straight and tall on the top step.
She spoke so quietly that only Perry could hear. “This lesson, while the one I feared the most, has been quite possibly one of the most valuable. There is no cause to fear that man. He is not at all terrifying.”
Perry forgot the man behind him, lost in Lilly’s peaceful expression.
“Time for you to quit the ball, Hepplewort,” Perry said without turning back.
Kerrigan and Gardner pulled Hepplewort up by the shoulders and shoved him at the carriage.
“You don’t tell me when to leave!” he squawked.
Perry turned. “Don’t I?” He walked toward the carriage, and with every step closer it seemed Hepplewort shrank further into his collar. “Get in your carriage and quit London tonight, or by God you will not live another day.” He felt Warrick’s hand on his shoulder, but shook him off. “You are not welcome here. You are not welcome anywhere. I believed you understood us when we told you this the first time, or even the second, but it is apparent you do not. I will not tell you again. Be gone.”
Hepplewort fell backward into the carriage as Kerrigan swept the door open behind him, and Perry walked to the driver.
“Morgan, I believe you have been warned as well. I’ll see you hanged before I see you near my family again. Don’t think I won’t.” The man’s eyes narrowed but Perry dismissed him, turning away and returning to Lilly.
He heard Kerrigan slam the carriage door, then Warrick crack the harness on the rear end of one of the horses “Ha!” The startled beasts took off down the street, and everyone walked back to the front of the house. Where he stood with Lilly. He still didn’t take his eyes from her.
“Warrick. Inform Her Grace that Lilly will accompany me to my town house tonight. She may consider my offer official. Let her know that if she were to come and attempt to collect her, she’ll be turned away, as we have much to accomplish. She may continue to try, but will be consistently turned down.” He raised a brow. Lilly blanched when he used the very words his aunt had used against him.
“And Warrick—”
“Yes, Perry?”
“My stick?”
Warrick grumbled and handed it to him. Perry finally broke his hold on Lilly’s gaze and turned down the steps, bringing Lilly with him when Gardner brought the carriage up to the curb. Perry handed Lilly in, then followed. He felt Kerrigan’s weight on the back of the carriage and tapped the roof. “Home, Gardner, swiftly.”
Perry turned to Lilly. “I told you my intentions were to court you, with the intention of taking you to wife.”
Lilly looked at him in the dark, light from the gas lamps on the street crossing his features as the carriage rocked down the cobbled and dirt streets toward Grosvenor. “Yes, you informed me of such. You also informed me that you had not yet proposed, and that when you did, I would know.”
“Lilly, that time is now. I cannot wait, I will not survive another day not knowing. I won’t have you attending balls without me on your arm. I will not let you out of my sight without first putting my ring on your hand for everyone to see.” He grasped that hand, pulling it up to his mouth. “Lilly, will you be my wife, in name and deed? Will you take up honorable residence in my house? Will you bear my children and raise them as you see fit? Will you spend the rest of my days making me the happiest man in all of Great Britain? In all of the United Kingdom? Even if it means we live a happily ostracized life in the country?”
“No, milord, I will not,” she said quietly.
“Lilly, I—” His heart skipped. He gazed at her solemn expression as the lights flashed over her face.
“Milord, I cannot take this lightly. It is beyond me to be more than I am—”
“I’m not asking for—”
“Hush.” She lifted her hand to his mouth to quiet him. “You have asked that I be your wife and said that if we are not accepted by the ton, that we will hide at your estate, live out our days happily never to be heard from again. I refuse to rob London of such a beautiful force. It would not be fair of me.” She pressed harder on his lips when he tried to plead again. “What I mean to say is, I will never leave. I will never hide. I will be your wife in all things for as long as I shall live, be it with you or without you. You have stolen my heart, my very life, there is no living for me where you are not concerned. I will fight. I will stand tall and proud. I will endure whatever is sent my way. I will be strong. I will not hide. I will do as you wish. And I will spend the balance of my days doing so.”
Perry held her, his thumbs tracing her lower lip. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Lilly Steele of Kelso. Beautiful within and without.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Don’t you ever hide your face from anyone. Not ever again, do you hear me? I am the only one ever allowed to see a bit of this hair long and flowing around you. Is that perfectly understood?”
She nodded and reached up to the ribbon that wove its way through her curls. Giving it a slight tug, she felt it untie, then unravel, her hair spilling around her shoulders as he watched.
He grabbed handfuls of her hair, smoothing it and pushing it away from her face. “I have waited all of my life to find you, sweet Lilly. If only I had known where you were, I could have saved you from all the pain.”
She let her speech slip. “No, milord, ‘twould have done not a bit of good. For were I not this person, with all my damage, and were you not this man, with all his experience, we, neither one of us, would have looked to the other for one moment, much less endeavored to do what we have done.”
Perry considered what she said. He nodded as understanding set in. Were he not the rake, and she not broken, there would have been no need for them to meet. No need whatsoever. Under other circumstances he would never have noticed her.
Lilly smiled up at him, nestling into his side. “And how many children do you want?”
“As many as Westcreek Park will hold, I imagine, though perhaps we should get married and be done with my guardianship before we start on another brood.”
“And when will we be married?”
He looked forward as he rubbed his chin. “We will be married within a sennight. We will quit London immediately and head to Gretna, where I will pledge my troth and you will be my wife. Then we will spend a few nights hidden away somewhere, returning to Eildon Hill in time to see my brother fall to his fate.”
“I like it, I think it perfect, and I cannot wait to tell my family, to see my family, when we arrive for His Grace’s wedding.”
“They’ll probably not recognize you. After all, they won’t be looking for you in this dress.”
“This dress? I have others I could wear.”
Perry shook his head firmly. “Oh no, my sweet Lilly, this dress that my aunt had made will be the perfect dress to wear to my brother’s wedding. I cannot wait to see you in it again. Tomorrow we should go by Calder House to explain what will happen next, or the duchess will have the entire country set out to find us, and that certainly will not do. But for tonight, tonight you are mine.” His hands grasped her hips and drew her toward him. “You’ll be in my bed, and we’ll not be disturbed. Tonight, I make you my wife in deed,” he said gruffly. The rocking of the carriage shifting them as one, as he let his pronouncement sink in, the only sounds the creak of the springs and the breath between them.
“Lilly?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like your family at our wedding? We could arrange for Kelso. It might require a favor or two, but
I could make this happen.”
“Perry,” she said, with no more than a breath.
“Yes, my sweet?”
“I love you.”
“And I love you, well beyond the boundaries of my heart.”
Perry sat at the keys and considered the night before. He leaned across the board. Resting his elbow on the piano, he started a scale, his fingers gliding across the keys like the wings of a butterfly. The tones started rich and deep, then rose to fight his somber mood.
It was difficult to believe that Hepplewort was still causing problems. He had to protect Lilly, particularly since Hepplewort was now aware of her. The scale trilled up and back down and he shifted forward on the bench. Lilly, who he had left to sleep in after the trials he put her through once they’d made it back to the house. He had given her the pearls, and they had been truly beautiful. It had been the most passionate night of his life. His other hand met the first and he commanded the notes to come forth, fill the room, his senses, his need.
It must have been all the emotion roiling through them. In his life he’d never expected to be so close to another human. He’d never expected to share such a glorious connection. And they were to be married soon. He needed to send a message to Calder House, to let his aunt know they would be late. Lilly needed rest. He felt his cock stir at the very thought of their exertion. She had allowed so much, learned so much, given so much, and he was forever in her hold. Mastered. The crescendo grew.
He heard movement behind him and shifted, quickly closing the fall over the keys and rising from the bench.
“Lilly. I didn’t know you were here. I—” He cleared his throat. She watched him closely as he stumbled out from behind the bench.
“You play.” It was a quiet statement, not a question.
“Well. Yes, I do. I don’t very well announce such, though. The image of tortured artist would do wonders for my rakehell reputation,” he said sardonically.
She pursed her lips. “Your reputation. I see. Still quite concerned with that, are you, my lord?”
He stopped. “I—well. There, you have me.”
Her smile broadened and she pulled a chair closer to the bench. “Well, then?” she said, sweeping her hand toward the instrument.
He turned, his knee brushing the corner of the bench and making him stumble again. He caught it before it toppled and cast her a nervous grin. He sat down, his wrists hovering above the keys, his fingers gently caressing the ivory just below. He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands, cracking his knuckles before repositioning his fingers.
Lilly waited serenely, her eyes trained on those long fingers she had come to know so well. They fluttered over the keys again and he heard her breath catch.
With that small sound the music flowed through him, to the strings of the piano, each note carried in precise tension throughout the room.
Her breathing caught the rhythm of the notes, her chest rising and falling in deep waves. He saw her knees tighten, her fingers curl into her skirts.
He built the crescendo, drawing the tension as far as he could before letting it drift softly back to earth. He closed his eyes and his body swayed. He felt the strain of the notes, pulled them into his gut then let them spiral through his veins, flowing back out to circle again toward him.
Lilly had never seen anyone play, much less been close enough to feel the tremor from the instrument below her feet as the chords left the strings and traveled to her. She watched closely as Perry’s eyes fell closed and his brow stitched, the concentration in every line of his body. This wasn’t something she had imagined when considering this man. The beauty and the passion. Her gaze fell once again to his fingers; watching them skim the ivory had her belly in knots, and she clenched her knees together to fight the sudden whirls of energy fluttering inside her.
She stood ever so slowly, not wanting to disturb his concentration but needing to feel. She slipped her shoes off and stepped quietly to the side of the grand piano to lean into it. She placed her hands on the giant lid that was closed over the strings to mute the sound. Spreading her fingers, she felt the reverberation of each note. She closed her eyes and her breath quickened.
Then the music fell away.
She turned to find him regarding her.
“That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life.”
“Well, you have led a most sheltered life.”
She noted there were no music sheets. “How...”
“It just comes to me, or I remember it. My mother was very talented. She used to play, and I was able to pick things up by ear. Later my father paid for a few lessons. Possibly to keep me from underfoot while he dealt with my brother.”
“What of your mother then?”
“She was already gone.”
Lilly turned away as he stood.
His hand reached up to her face, his thumb brushing the tear from her cheek. “There is no need to cry for the past.”
She leaned into him. “It was not for the past, but for the music. I do not know how to describe how it felt. It filled me, it was...” She shook her head.
He turned her and lifted her, setting her upon the lid. “Let me tell you about my piano.”
She protested and he moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning toward her.
“This is an 1868 Streicher Concert Grand. Handmade of rosewood, for me, in Vienna.” He ran his hand over the smooth surface. “The very same type of piano that Brahms uses for his compositions.” He looked at her hopefully.
She shook her head.
He pulled her skirts up and wrapped her legs around his waist, then lifted her from the piano. She squealed and locked her arms around his neck.
“Perry!”
He rounded the piano, setting her petite frame on the lid at the front of the piano. His fingers traced down the backs of her thighs. His hands caught beneath her knees as he lifted her away from him, opened the fall, and placed her feet wide on the keyboard with a low and high complaint from the piano.
“Perry, not the keys, I—”
“Shhh. You are interrupting genius here,” he said, then kissed her blunt on the lips and sat in front of her, looking at his hands on the keys. “Every genius needs a muse and I—” He glanced up and his breath caught as he took in the view he’d created. Lilly, wide on his piano. “I, my sweet, sweet Lilly, I’m no different.” He shifted on the bench. “Perhaps this was a bad idea,” he mumbled, moving his fingers, which seemed to tangle themselves before even attempting a chord.
He started in on a lilting melody; he thought a tribute to Brahms in order considering the lesson on his piano, but then when he glanced up again he fumbled, losing the tune.
“I believe this calls for something a bit more, eh, up tempo?” He repositioned his hands. He started slow and lilting, then beat at the keys, the sound emanating loud and raucous. The entire piano shook beneath her, the vibrations coursing through her toes and resting in her hips. He smiled up at her. “Brahms would roll in his grave for this one!” he yelled over the tune.
Lilly laughed and held on to the edge of the piano lid tightly, for fear of being bounced off. “What...whatever is this?” she asked through her giggles.
“This, my dear, is something my mother used to play for me. I haven’t heard it anywhere else. I believe it to be American.” He continued his harassment of the keys. Lilly was laughing so hard her foot slipped from the keyboard and she landed rather unceremoniously in Perry’s lap.
“Well, my dear, you have but to ask me the one time.” He gathered her to him, kissing and pulling and tearing at her clothes until they were joined beneath her ruined skirts, both screaming and grunting as they worked hard toward their end.
“Lilly...Lilly!” he yelled as he fell back and she followed, the two of them landing on the floor behind him, his breath knocked out.
She sat up quickly with a start, her hands touching either side of his jaw. “Perry? Are you all right?” She moved his head ba
ck and forth to rouse him.
His hands on her hips startled her. “Lilly, don’t move, I— Lord, just…give me a moment, I beg you.”
She leaned over him, kissing everywhere she could reach.
“Perry, I’m so sorry!”
He coughed, then breathed deeply and opened his eyes. Lifted his knees and kicked the piano bench away. He cleared his throat.
“It wasn’t your fault. I should never have set you on my instrument,” he said with a sly grin.
She wiggled her hips. “Your instrument seems to have survived.” She leaned over his chest on her crossed hands.
He pressed into her. “I leave you with no doubt as to the condition of said instrument.”
Her eyes closed and her mouth parted as his rhythm gained. She pushed
against his chest, rising to give him more depth, and cried out on his thrust.
“What...was...that...song?” she breathed.
“She called it the Pineapple Rag.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I love it.”
Lilly collapsed on a cry, melting into his tensed body.
Then, once he caught his breath: “Shall I play it again?”
Their peaceful reverie was broken by a knock at the main door so powerful they heard it at the back of the house.
“Damn.”
Lilly lifted her head from his chest and smiled, then began the slow process of extracting herself from his arms. “I’ll leave you to it, I need to freshen up a bit. Again.”
Perry grumbled as he heard the butler moving from his study to the parlor and knew the music room was about three doors farther on his hunt. He fastened his trousers and righted the piano bench—noting a pronounced wobble—then stood and attempted to reorder himself before the door swung wide.
“Milord, Warrick and Calder.” Perry turned quickly at the tenor in his voice. “The entry, my lord, they say there’s no time.”
Perry glanced around the room to ensure Lilly was safely with him, then remembered she’d gone upstairs to change. He walked to the front of the house.
