by Lauren Smith
He took her hand and laced his fingers in hers. “I’m not going to marry her, Mallory. I don’t care what her father does... well, I do care about those in my employment. I’ll do what I can to help them out should the need arise. But I will lose some of the most valuable Hawthorn properties. I am now resigned to it and will survive the loss.”
Mallory nodded as he spoke. “But that is my greatest fear, that you will not survive without them. In choosing me, you will lose the part of yourself that you love most dearly.”
Lucien drew her close, now taking both of her hands in his. “I will lose something dear, but you’re wrong about what is most precious to me. You’re the dearest part of me. You’re what I love most. The properties are just things that can be traded up or down. You, Mallory, are eternal. You cannot be replaced or traded or given up. I will not allow it.”
Her heart was pounding a hole through her chest with excitement, but also with trepidation. She wanted to believe him, wanted to so badly. “That is how I’ve always felt about you, Lucien. But you are new to this feeling. How can I be certain that I’m not condemning you to a life of misery?”
He nudged her to her feet and withdrew his handkerchief to wipe away the tears that had unwittingly fallen onto her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She wasn’t really, just overwhelmed with love for this man and scared about what it all meant.
“Mallory,” he said, his voice a husky ache, “I watched you from my box at the theater last night. You stole my breath away and had my heart soaring so high, it floated on the ceiling. Do you not understand what you mean to me? I celebrate your day, Saint Mallory’s Day, every year. How can that not be significant?”
She laughed softly. “Because you fell naked out of a tree. That is not something to boast about.”
“Perhaps not.” He grinned, but only for a moment before his regard turned serious. “I sat next to Exmoor who returned from Waterloo with scars on his face, his body and spirit broken. He has wealth to rival the Duke of Digby’s, but it does not make him happy and never will. Nor would I be happy if I reclaimed every bit of the Hawthorn wealth but lost you. Do you know what makes Exmoor happy? His wife. She is his joy. She is his anchor. She is his best friend.”
Mallory was studying his lips as he spoke, wishing she could feel their possessive warmth upon hers. “He’s a good man. I liked him very much. I’m so glad he’s found joy in his life.”
Lucien nodded. “Which leads me to us. Let’s talk about our happiness. I don’t know how to convince you, Mallory. I love you. I will never blame you for any losses I may suffer to my ducal holdings. You did not drink or gamble them away. My father is to blame for that. But as I said, these are just things and easily replaced. You are not.”
She held her breath.
“Exmoor has offered to come in as a partner on the more lucrative Hawthorn businesses. That will go a long way toward easing my burden. But even if our partnership never comes to pass, it will not affect how I feel about you or how much I need you in my life.”
Mallory’s head was spinning.
Was she dreaming?
Was Lucien really here, holding her hands while he set out all the reasons why their marriage would work?
“You are the only woman I want to hold in my arms or take to my bed. I hope you will share my bed once we are married.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Where else would I sleep but with you?”
“Nowhere else. I would not have us in separate quarters.”
She nodded. “Nor would I.”
“Good, for no one else has quite the same cinnamon and apple scent as you, and no one else has just the right curves to fit perfectly against my body. No one else has the same pout to her lips that drives me wild and mad and insanely possessive.”
She was confused. “When I pout, it usually means I am irritated with you.”
“Then I shall make it my purpose in life to rile you daily. Hourly. You have the most beautiful mouth and I shall enjoy kissing it often and assiduously.”
She threw her arms around him and laughed. “You had better.”
“Ah, success.” His voice was rich as Belgian chocolate. Smuggled chocolate, of course. That was the best kind. The forbidden pleasure.
She made no protest when he lifted her up against him and pressed his lips to hers. Her senses instantly spiked with excitement as her body molded to his so that she felt the tug of his muscles, and the heat of his skin, and the scent of sandalwood against his throat. She allowed her excitement to flow through her body and loosen her restraint.
“I love you, Lucien.” She kissed him with desperate longing and utter abandon. She kissed him as though this kiss might be the last one they’d ever share, although she knew it would be the first of many.
He spun her slowly in his arms, holding her off the floor and tight against his chest. His lips were on hers, claiming them. Claiming her and demanding all she had to offer. Demanding her heart and taking possession of her soul.
But he was giving his heart in return.
“Wishes do come true,” she murmured.
This is what Mallory had wished for all of her life, to claim the heart of this duke.
Chapter Ten
Mallory’s parents were scandalized, as Lucien knew they would be when they learned of his intention to marry their daughter with utmost haste. “We are both men of the world,” her father said, his face reddening as his temper flared, for Mallory’s parents had come upon them in Lady Goodell’s parlor while he was kissing the slippers off their daughter and she was gleefully letting him do it.
Her father cleared his throat. “Men of the world,” he repeated. “Is there a need for you and my daughter to be married by special license, Your Grace?”
“Papa!” Mallory gasped and shot to her feet. “No need other than we wish to be married as soon as possible. His Grace has done nothing untoward.”
“Then why the mad rush?” her mother asked, her gaze suggesting he’d been about as untoward as a man could be.
Her parents seemed certain that he must have done something to cause them to whip out their rifles and hold the barrels to his head until the local minister arrived. He didn’t care. The sooner he married Mallory, the happier he’d be.
“This will be one of the most anticipated events of the Season. Nothing less than St. Paul’s will do,” her mother said.
“No, we would like to be married at Hawthorn.” Mallory replied, her voice smooth and even, but her chin was tipped up in defiance. Lucien liked that steady determination to hold her ground. “A simple wedding with just our families in attendance. I have not been presented at St. James. I have not had my Come-Out, not that I need it now. No one knows me here in London other than my sisters.”
“But everyone knows His Grace,” her mother retorted, shaking her head at their reluctance to make a spectacle of their wedding day. “They will expect all of the pomp and ceremony due his rank.”
Lucien had stayed quiet during the discussion, surprised that her parents had not seen fit to ask his wishes. In truth, he would have done whatever Mallory desired. But he was glad she wanted a quiet affair. “Then they will have to get over their disappointment.” He took Mallory’s hand and held it in his, a subtle gesture to reveal they were united in their thoughts. “Your daughter and I will be married next week at the Hawthorn vicarage.”
Mallory graced him with a beaming smile. “My husband-to-be wishes it and I would not go against his wishes.”
Lucien stifled his laughter, knowing this was likely the first and only time he would have his way. Oddly, he did not mind. Perhaps it was because he’d known Mallory all of her life and found her company easy to take. Of course, it was so much more than that. To desire her because she was inoffensive was an insult to all her fine qualities.
He loved her passion about everything. He loved that she cared sincerely for others. He loved her honesty and kindness and her ability to make others smile. He loved her mi
x of strength and vulnerability.
He loved everything about her.
So it was with joviality and an easy contentment that he found himself, one week later, standing before the Hawthorn vicar with Mallory at his side. His Mallory, with her sparkling eyes and dazzling smile and gentle heart that beat a little faster just for him.
His heart beat faster for her as well.
In truth, his heart was pounding through his ears, for they were now exchanging vows, and there was not another woman who existed in all the world for him. “I do,” Mallory said after he’d given the same response.
Lucien kissed her politely on the cheek.
And kissed her again on her I-want-to-have-sex-with-you pouty lips.
And resumed kissing her that night in the bedchamber they would now share at Hawthorn Hall as husband and wife. They’d leave her adjoining duchess quarters unused for now and perhaps modify it to be a reading room or other private space for her.
“I love you, Lucien,” she said in a sultry whisper as he unpinned her upswept hair and watched the wild curls tumble down her back. He undressed her and set her down in the center of the bed, and then stripped off his clothes and settled over her.
She opened her arms to him, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and knew she did not wish to disappoint him. He meant to hold back, wanted to be careful with her body and show her a woman’s pleasure before he took his own. This was her first time and he did not wish to hurt her. “Lucien, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Close your eyes and do whatever feels good, sweetheart.”
“Such as?”
“Let me show you. Just follow my lead as I place my hands on your body, my lips on your mouth.” Myself inside of you, our bodies moving as one. I’ll show you the way. He dipped his head to hers and kissed her, softly at first. Then he slid his tongue across the seam of her lips and gained entrance to her mouth. His tongue met hers and twirled in a lazy circle over hers. At the same time, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her up against his body so that she felt its heat against her silken skin.
She arched toward him, gripped his shoulders. His hand slid down her waist and settled between her legs to gently stroke between her already slick curls. She opened herself up to him completely, her aching need to join their bodies and become one as profound as his.
He thrust into her.
And forgot everything but Mallory.
Blessed saints!
Is this what she had been missing? A delicious heat spread throughout Mallory’s body in pulsing waves of pleasure as Lucien’s big hands caressed and teased her most sensitive spots, although she seemed to be sensitive everywhere on her body, even in spots he had not yet touched.
Just the hint that he might do so was enough to set her blood on fire.
Oh!
Had she just moaned?
Oh!
She’d moaned again. Was she supposed to do that? She wanted to ask him, but he was too engrossed in exploring her body and rousing lightning bolt sensations out of her to listen.
He’d said to close her eyes and feel.
She did so as he slid himself inside of her, his movements masculine and graceful as he thrust and withdrew and thrust again, their bodies responding to each other in the timeless dance of love.
This was the part she had been missing.
She never realized it could be so splendid, no one had ever mentioned it to her.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his muscled shoulders and ran them along his hot, moist skin as he claimed her.
“I love you, Mallory,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing against her ear.
His words seemed to free her and she felt herself carried to unexplored heights, carried along on the hot sensation of his thrusts. She was noisy, unable to hold back, not wishing ever to stop him as he pushed their dance to its torrid conclusion.
Then there was nothing but heat and starlight bursting all around her, and Lucien taking her into his protective arms and holding her as though she were a delicate crystal, all the while whispering that he loved her.
“I love you, too. I love you so much, Lucien.”
They drifted down to earth together from celestial heights, her body exquisitely light and boneless, floating like shimmers of starlight down from the heavens. Her eyes were still closed, but she felt Lucien’s smug grin against the fleshy mound of her breast where his head now rested in intimate satisfaction. “That was nice, Lucien.”
“Just nice? I’ll have to do better next time.”
She laughed. “It was spectacular. You were spectacular. But I won’t dissuade you from trying again. Now? Or is this something only to be done once a night?”
It was his turn to laugh, which he did with aching satisfaction. “Yes, my love. Now. As often as you please. But give me a moment to regain my strength. I think I poured everything I had in me into you.”
But it did not take long for him to regain his strength and pleasure her thoroughly. He brought her once again to soaring heights. After a time, they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. But Mallory was too restless to sleep for very long. How could she when her husband and his magnificent body sent her heart into palpitations each time he shifted? She loved the sensual twist and tug of his body.
She nestled closer to him, her own body warming with wanton desire as she pressed against his hot, rugged skin. “Lucien, are you awake?” she whispered.
“Hell, yes. I can’t sleep with your lush breasts rubbing against my back. Or your long legs wrapped in mine. Or…” His growl was low and thrilling.
He turned and rolled her under him in one smooth motion, the weight of his body a delicious crush atop hers. “Mallory, I don’t wish to hurt you. Your body isn’t use to this… this… me inside of you.”
She cupped his cheek and gave a sleepy smile. “I love this… this… you. I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough. I don’t think that will ever happen.”
He curled one muscled arm around her waist to draw her up against him.
And then his free hand slid lower.
She held her breath and closed her eyes, taking in each magical sensation. Reveling in the splendor of his intimate touch.
She saw stars.
They gleamed brightly on the lids of her closed eyes. “Look at me, my love,” he said and lightly kissed her on the mouth. “Open your eyes. I want to see all of you. The pout on your lips, the heave of your body, the passion in your eyes.”
She met his gaze and held back nothing of herself.
She was his. All of her belonged to him.
When he was done tormenting her with his exquisite pleasures, she fell back against her pillow with a sated purr.
She met his gaze and saw the wicked gleam in his smoldering blue eyes. He brushed back the wild strands of her hair and kissed her affectionately on the forehead. “Do you wish to get out of bed today, my duchess? It isn’t necessary, you know.”
He sank back beside her and then rolled her atop him so that their bodies were pressed to each other, her breasts flattening against his chest, her legs entwined in his, and every other thing between them a dank, throbbing, and wonderfully intimate mess.
“I think we must,” she said with an openhearted smile, wriggling her body against his to reach up and kiss him on the lips. “There is something important we must do.”
He frowned. “What’s more important than indulging our shameless, hedonistic pleasures?”
“I have no idea what that word means, but it sounds lewd.”
He arched a golden eyebrow and cast her a naughty grin. “It is.”
“My point is, we must take a dip together in the stream.”
“A dip? Why would we…” He finally understood her meaning and gave a groaning laugh. “But it isn’t Saint Mallory’s Day yet.”
“I am calling this Saint Lucien’s Day, for this is a day to be celebrated now and always. We shall perform the same ritual as you do for Saint Mallory�
�s Day. Together. Unclothed. That’s why we must do it now, before the household stirs and catches us frolicking in the water.”
“Frolicking? As in you and me naked and… there’s no tame word for what I mean to do to you.”
“Do to me? No, Your Grace. This is my day. My celebration. I shall take full charge.”
“You?” He brushed back her long, dark hair that had spilled over her shoulders and fallen across his chest. “Mallory,” he said with a soft chuckle, “I think I am going to enjoy being married to you. Who knew I’d fall in love with my neighbor’s gangly and often bothersome daughter?”
“I knew. I hoped. I’ve always been in love with that reckless boy who fell naked out of a tree. I’ve always been in love with you, the duke next door.”
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Lucien and Mallory’s story. If you’re curious about James Brayden, the Earl of Exmoor, he has his own story. It’s called A Match Made In Duty, a romantic Regency novella about the wounded beast (James) who finds true love with his Sophie in a marriage entered into as a deathbed promise to her brother, but James soon realizes that his new wife is far more than a mere business arrangement.
With love always,
Meara Platt
Read on for a sneak peek at A Match Made In Duty - books2read.com/matchmadeinduty
A Match Made in Duty
London, England
October 1815
James Brayden, fifth Earl of Exmoor, glanced at the bottle of brandy his butler had just carried in on a sparkling silver tray and set down beside him on the elegant mahogany desk in his study. He waited for his butler to depart and close the door behind him before turning to the two guests who had just arrived and were about to change his life forever. “Care for a drink, Major Allworthy?”
