Charles gaped. “I can marry her?”
She heaved out a sigh. “Not that you need it, Charles, but I give you full permission to be happy. That is all I ever wanted for you since you were placed in my arms. And if marrying this girl will make you happy, then marry her you must.”
As if Mark didn’t love the woman enough, she had to go do that.
Charles grabbed her and pressed her savagely against himself. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this.”
“Now, now,” she murmured against his shoulder, nestling her chin against it. “Go right this. She is waiting for you over in the servants’ quarters.”
Charles pulled away. “She is?”
A knowing smile touched those full lips. “She is, and it is fairly obvious that if you want a wedding, there will be one.”
Charles grabbed her face and kissed it not once, not twice, but thrice. “I don’t know why I ever doubted you. After everything we have been through together… I should have never…” He paused. “I have to go.” Jerking away, Charles dodged around her and disappeared into the ballroom, leaving Mark and Magdalene to stand alone in complete silence in the shadows of the terrace.
“Thornton.” Charles skid back into view, startling him, and pointed. “You are going to be the damn groomsman. Not to mention godfather to the babe. And anything else you want to be!”
Mark inclined his head. “I would be honored.”
Charles grinned and darted off.
Silence pulsed again, reminding Mark that it was time to go.
His gaze momentarily met Magdalene’s soulful dark eyes, which always made his breath hitch in the most annoying way.
She lingered, the candlelight from the chandeliers beyond illuminating her gathered chestnut hair in the softest of ways. He’d always been in awe of that glorious hair, which held barely a single wisp of gray despite her lavish year of forty. Unlike his own hair that was beginning to silver at the temples. There were so many times he wished he could have met her in his youth and in hers, before life had bloody—
He was digressing.
It was time to go.
He rounded her.
Magdalene stepped toward him. “Thank you for speaking to him, Thornton. He sees you as the father he never had. You do realize that, yes?”
He nodded, but started walking, refusing to skewer the last of himself in the name of a woman who, sadly, would never be able to step beyond the wrongs committed against her. No matter how much time, love, patience and hope he offered.
It was indeed Anne all over again.
Only this hurt more. Because he had expected more from Magdalene given all that she was. Instead, she had given in to victimizing herself and him.
Which was why it was time to rise above her. It was time to cease settling for women who just couldn’t see beyond themselves. He had a life. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. More importantly, he had his girls. He would never settle for anything less than everything for them, and that was why he wasn’t going to bloody settle for anything less than everything for himself. Not ever again. At least Magdalene had taught him that much.
He inclined his head toward her one last time. “Good night.” And off he strode, knowing he was never going to see her again.
CHAPTER FIVE
THOUGH MAGDALENE HAD ALWAYS believed matrimony was but a form of imprisonment that permitted a man to legally do with his wife’s body and soul as he pleased, one she had sworn to never submit herself to again, this was Thornton. The one and only man she had ever come to trust and adore and love in her forty years, who had carried every imaginable burden she had ever placed upon him without fail.
Even when she had failed him.
And she was not about to fail him again. She already knew how it felt to live without him and his girls. This past month had been beyond torturous, and she wasn’t doing that again. God save her, she was about to jump off a ledge in the hopes that he’d be there to catch her before her brains scattered across the pavement.
Gathering her skirts, she darted after his stalking figure, which had veered past her on the terrace and through the open doors leading into the ballroom. “Thornton—”
“There is no need to say anything. In fact, I prefer the chirping of crickets. I prefer—”
“Marry me.”
He jerked to a halt and swung toward her, his burning green eyes intently holding hers in the wavering candlelight.
Her heart lurched as that steady gaze pried into her soul in a way she’d never experienced.
He searched her face but still said nothing.
When the silence made her feel as if her very chest might burst, she blurted up at him in complete exasperation, “Well, say something. I just agreed to be your wife.”
He swung away and kept walking. Only faster.
“Thornton?” she called.
Still walking at a fast, rigid pace, he tossed out over his broad shoulder, “I decline your offer and ask we never return to the subject again.”
She gasped and scurried after him in an effort to keep up. “I just asked you to marry me!”
He headed straight for the double doors leading to the main corridor of the foyer beyond the ballroom. “Such flippant submission is not the sort of relationship I want, Magdalene. Which is why I am declining your offer.”
“But I…” Her breath hitched. He was throwing out a saber and expecting her to parry back. “All right.” She hurried after him. “What sort of relationship did you want?”
“Don’t insult me. If you don’t know the sort of relationship I want out of you, and have no expectations for yourself, then damn you, woman, you don’t have what I want.”
“Oh, dearest God. And I thought I had insecurities.”
He came to halt just within the opening of the ballroom. Turning, he caught her gaze. “I didn’t have any insecurities until I met you. Anne left me wounded, yes. But you, Magdalene, you up and left me for dead when I laid my very self in your hands. You expect me to forgive that? With the mere toss of a marriage proposal from your lips? I want more than that. ’Tis obvious, however, that you don’t have more than that, or you would have already offered it to me.”
Now that hurt. And yes, she did deserve it for submitting to her fears as opposed to trusting the last man who would ever seek to hurt her. She drew in a shaky breath and let it out, making her way toward him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to go about this then, and I’m sorry I don’t know how to go about this now.”
He adjusted his coat around his frame with a solid tug, avoiding her gaze. “Four years. Four years of me waiting for you to—” He bared his teeth.
Her throat tightened. She’d been hurting him all along without knowing it.
“I spent years trying to prove my worth to Anne only to find it was never good enough. I don’t deserve this. I don’t. Not from you, not from anyone.”
He was referring to his wife. A woman who had given him everything but her love. “Thornton—”
“Good night.” Without deigning her a glance, he disappeared, leaving her to wonder how her life had ever become so complicated. Her chest ached miserably. It was clearly up to her to salvage whatever was left between them. And she was frightened out of her wits knowing it. She’d forgotten what it was like to be involved with a man in that way. But drat it all, if Charles could take on the world and his dreams, risking it all in the name of love, so could she.
* * *
WOMEN.
Stalking down the corridor, Mark made his way into the main section of the house, toward the entrance hall. That front door sure as hell wasn’t where it needed to be.
“Thornton,” Magdalene called after him.
“For God’s sake, don�
�t say anything. Don’t.” He refused to settle for anything less than her heart, and it was something, goddamn her, she hadn’t even bothered to offer him throughout her merry charade of tossing out the concept of matrimony.
The heels of her slippers click-click-clicked as she trotted alongside him. She reached out and tapped the side of his arm. “Life is full of surprises, isn’t it? Whoever thought my son would marry the daughter of a chemist? And whoever thought that you and I would ever find each other attractive? I would have gagged if you had told me any of this when we first met.”
Bloody brilliant. Now she was being downright insulting. “I have to get back to the girls.” He yanked open the entrance door.
She jumped in front of him, causing him to skid to a halt.
“Thornton.” Angling herself better between him and the entrance, she slowly closed the door leading to Park Lane and latched it. She hesitated. “I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I even wanted to be involved with a man in that way. In truth, what happened between us that afternoon paralyzed me. I thought I knew how I felt about men and…you. But I didn’t. Obviously. I mean, I did know how I felt about you all along, I just… Stupid as it was, I thought you were giving in to a fancy. All you need know, though, is this—I cannot imagine living my life without you after having met you. And that is why I not only want to be your wife but need to be your wife. Because you are, and have always been, more than a friend to me. You are my everything and I have loved you, Thornton, for as many years as you claim to have loved me. My heart tamped it all down but it was there. So in that, our suffering has been the same. We both suffered, loving each other in silence out of fear it wasn’t real. When in fact…it was.”
A raw heat tightened his entire body as he stared down at her astounded. All this time. All this time and she— “Why the devil didn’t you tell me? Magdalene, why didn’t you—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she tossed right back, throwing up both hands and rattling them. “I wasn’t sure what it was I was feeling, but you… All I needed and wanted to know was that it was love you felt, not—not…lust that can fade within a breath. Attraction is one thing, drat you, but love is quite another! Adam gave me more than enough lust and passion and angst to last me a lifetime. What I wanted and needed is love, damn you. Love!”
He groaned. They were both so stupid. They had both been so blinded by their own insecurities, it took away four goddamn years of their lives.
“Thornton.” She leaned in, that divine scent of powder and chamomile entrancing the last of him. She lifted her eyes from his chest to his face in what he could only describe as Persephone submitting to her fate. “I thought unlacing my heart after Adam would never be possible. But thank God you came along to prove me wrong. Thank God there was you. Please don’t give up on me. Please give me another chance.”
It took every breath left within him not to grab her and make love to her there on the marble floor of the foyer. “You know what I want for us, Magdalene?” he confided. “More than anything?”
She was quiet for a moment. “What?”
“To be able to start anew.” He reached up and outlined that pretty, oval face with the tip of his finger. “Court me. Court me for a few weeks in front of all of London before we make our way down that cathedral aisle.”
She pulled in her chin. “Court you? Whatever do you mean? As if I were some…debutante in her first Season?”
“Yes.”
“Off with you.”
“Magdalene. Neither of us were equals to our spouses in our last marriage. I say we not only rise above that, but change it. I say we change everything that made us first come together.”
She blinked. “And what is your definition of…courting, exactly?”
“Carriage rides, picnics in the park, a boat on the lake. You know, the things we never got to do because we were always too busy griping about our dead spouses and thinking the worst of what in the end was actually the best? We deserve to swallow and know bliss.”
Their eyes locked.
The glittering awareness in her dark stare hit him with the strength of a bamboo rod.
She’d never looked at him that way before. Not ever.
Edging toward her, he drew in a calming breath and leaned in toward those incredible full lips, needing to make this real.
She leaned away, lifting a reprimanding brow. “You and I are not doing this here.”
He leaned back, squelching his disappointment.
She grabbed his hand. “We will do this elsewhere. And you had better be ready to pull off those trousers, given that I have been shamelessly eyeing them for years.”
His stomach flipped as he savagely squeezed her hand, submitting to the frenzied idea that… Oh, God.
He tried not to panic. It had been far too long.
She steadily walked them past the charred parlor and past the main stairwell and sconces whose candles had burned halfway to their stubs. Her gaze remained intently focused on the path before them, whispering of exotic possibilities he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
She veered them to the left, into the silence of her candlelit study. Releasing his hand to slide the double doors shut, she latched them and grabbed his hand again, guiding them over to the chess table beside the drawn curtains of the study.
In dazed exasperation, he watched her pull out the cane chair he always sat in. This wasn’t exactly—
“What are we doing?”
She grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him, and pushed him down into the chair. “We never finished the game.”
His throat tightened as he glanced at the chess pieces before him. They had all been left untouched since…that afternoon when he had lost the last of his rational mind by giving in to the one thing he had wanted to do for years: kiss her. Some of the pieces were still knocked over from his attempt.
Rounding over to her side of the table, she elegantly alighted into her chair, arranging her verdant satin gown about herself. Letting out a delicate breath, she shifted and lowered her gaze to the board, taking on that pensive look of concentration she assumed to slay him at chess.
He stared. “You can’t be serious.”
“Play.”
“Why? I thought—”
“Just play.”
Feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut, he hissed out a breath. And here he thought she had had some sort of revelation that included a lot of kissing and a bed. He just couldn’t win, could he? “I should probably confess something to you here and now. Before another minute passes.”
“And what would you like to confess, Thornton dear? Hmm?”
“I hate chess. Loathe it, actually. With a passion. I always have. So there. Now you know everything there is to know about me. And I don’t want to play. I have something else in mind for us. Something that involves you, me, brandy and a bed. Because this simply doesn’t meet my level of approval. At all.”
She smirked, keeping her dark eyes locked on the board, leaned in and said matter-of-factly, “This is where you lean over the board, Thornton, and kiss me. And this time, I promise not to smack you. Not even for disliking what I consider to be the best game known to humanity.” She hesitated and added, “So play. Play knowing that all you have to do is kiss the queen to, uh…checkmate.” She eyed him. “You do know how to checkmate, don’t you? Or has it been too long for you to remember…how?”
A knot rose in his throat as the air of the study seemed to grow hot. Everything he had ever wanted had miraculously become his in a single night.
There was no more Anne.
There was no more Adam.
There were no more regrets of what could have or should have or might have been. There was just this. Them. Friends turned lovers and soon to be husband and wife.
He leaned over the chess table, rising slightly from his chair, and closed the remaining space between them. His pulse thundered as she strategically angled her mouth toward his. His mouth edged toward hers and their lips connected.
Yet again, the room spun and fell over on its side.
Her hands jumped to his face and held him in place. Yet again. Their lips instantly parted and the heat of their wet tongues connected. As before, it was slow and teasing and rhythmic and delectable. And as before, it turned into a pulsing mess and savage need that made his very lips sting from the eager pressure they both applied.
His cock swelled with a vengeance.
Checkmate. And how.
Knocking over the entire chess table with a solid sweep of his arm, he grabbed her. He yanked her against his body, molding the heat of that softness against his arms and chest.
They kissed harder and harder, without taking any breaths, until it turned into a blur.
Her hands slid up his chest and paused at his throat. Unknotting his cravat, in between kisses, she whipped it aside. She unbuttoned his vest. Button by button by button.
He released his hold on her body and lips and shrugged off his evening coat, letting it drop to the floor. She pushed off his vest with it and then jerked his linen shirt out of his trousers.
Grabbing each other to kiss again, they stumbled over to the large writing desk set off to the side and hit its edge hard. His hands jumped to her face to steady her and himself as he sucked on that tongue, pulling it deeper into his own mouth.
Releasing her mouth so he could look at her and assure himself that this was real, he slowly pushed his fingers up into her gathered hair.
Her eyes fluttered open, revealing those smoky eyes.
He drew in a shaky breath and gently tugged at her coif, causing pins and ribbons to cascade out of it, and dug his fingers in and out, in and out, unraveling as much of her hair as he could. It cascaded down onto her shoulders, framing her face in a way he’d never had the pleasure of seeing.
Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for MarriageThe Wedding PartyUnlaced (Lester Family) Page 38
