by Darcy Burke
“It’s wet,” she said, smoothing the moisture over him with her thumb.
“That’s a sign of what’s to come.”
“I’m wet too, I think.”
“God, Fanny, don’t ever stop talking to me like that.”
Her lips curved into a seductive smile. “Do you want to know how I know?”
Hell, yes. “Tell me.”
“Last night, I dreamed of you, and I woke up feeling feverish. Hungry. Desperate for you. I burned. Here.” She moved her hand from his cock to between her legs. “I pressed on that spot—my clitoris. It felt…good. Then I slipped my finger inside, like you did.”
“That’s how you know.”
“Yes.” She shocked him by doing what she’d just described.
He’d never seen a woman touch herself like that, let alone the woman who would be his wife.
“Don’t stop,” he rasped.
She didn’t, her finger stroking slowly in and out. He took her hand and moved her focus back to her clitoris, then entered her with his finger. Together, they worked, their breaths becoming louder and faster.
“Oh God, David. I’m going to come.”
“Did you come last night?” He had to know.
“Yes, but it wasn’t quite the same.”
He thrust two fingers into her and felt her muscles clench. Then he pulled away to guide his cock to her sheath, sliding in as her muscles began to spasm. She cried out and clasped his backside, digging her fingers into his flesh as she pulled him into her.
He drove deep, and her legs came up around him. He’d wanted to go slow, to be controlled, but she’d cast him to the edge of oblivion with her erotic demonstration. He was mindless with need, overcome with lust.
She moved her hips to meet his thrusts, and her mouth found his, her tongue seeking his as they fought the rising tide together. Her climax barely finished—or so he thought—before she seemed to climb again, her channel tightening around him.
Surrendering to the darkness, he moved hard and fast, pushing her to the same edge upon which he barely balanced. And then he was lost.
Blood rushed to his cock as his release enveloped him, body and soul. He cast his head back and cried her name. He pumped into her as his body slowed. Her legs quivered around him, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his lips gently caressing hers.
A few, languorous moments later, he rolled to his side, his heartbeat still fast, his breathing still erratic. He inhaled deeply, thinking he’d never felt so good in his life.
Fanny curled into him, her hand splaying across his chest. “I should go before Mrs. Oglethorpe realizes I’m gone.”
“Stay—for a bit. I won’t let you fall asleep.”
She pushed on his chest and rose up onto her elbow.
He stared up into her eyes, stirringly luminescent in the flicker of the candlelight. “You are incredibly beautiful.” Her hair had come mostly loose from the braid, and he unraveled it the rest of the way, his fingers gliding through the silken red-gold strands.
She arched a brow at him. “How are you going to keep me from falling asleep?”
He chuckled. “Give me a moment, and I’ll show you.”
Her fingers trailed a circle over his chest. “You really don’t mind coming with me to the wedding tomorrow?”
“Not at all. It will be a lovely precursor to our own wedding.”
She smiled, but it faded into a pout. “That’s weeks from now. Are you certain we can’t pretend to be married as we travel south? Just for a few days? We can be Mr. and Mrs. Bird.”
He laughed, then pulled her down for a swift but heated kiss. “I adore your mind.”
“I adore many parts of you.” Her hand trailed over his nipple and then moved down along his abdomen.
He groaned. “My moment is nearly expired.”
She nodded. “Tell me, can I put my mouth on you the way you did with me?”
A frantic need pulsed through him, and he didn’t need a second, let alone a moment to recover. “Yes.”
She rotated her body and threw her leg over his as she slid down his side. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
“Fanny, something tells me you will do just fine all on your own.”
Unsurprisingly, she did.
Chapter 13
In the end, Fanny and David had decided it would be best if David didn’t attend the wedding. He did, however, plan to wait for her outside the church so that they could leave directly.
And so he could talk to her father. David had been adamant that he would tell the man it was time to bury the past.
Fanny was nervous throughout the ceremony, but moved to joy as she watched Mercy marry her brother John, at last making Fanny and Patience sisters, at least through marriage.
After the wedding, the guests mingled in the vestibule, but Fanny steered clear of her parents. That didn’t stop them from glowering at her across the gathering of people, and her anxiety shot right back up.
She was so intent on avoiding them that she nearly walked straight into Mr. Duckworth. In his middle thirties, he was a man of average height and thinning blond hair. He bore the florid features of a man inclined to drink, as well as a burgeoning waistline that also proclaimed that habit.
“Good morning, Miss Snowden. You look unbearably lovely this morning.”
Unbearably? She forced a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Duckworth. Thank you for coming to John’s wedding.”
“It puts me in the mood to take a wife again.” He chuckled, his sherry-colored eyes sparkling with mirth. “I should be very honored if you would assume that role.”
Was that supposed to be a proposal? Fanny wasn’t entirely certain, nor did she particularly want to address it as such. “Yes, well, I am leaving for Suffolk immediately.”
He frowned. “So soon? I’d heard you planned to start a workhouse here. Jacob mentioned it to me earlier this morning.”
He had? That was incredibly surprising. Her gaze traveled across the room to where he stood near their parents. He looked very handsome in his wedding finery, and Fanny wondered how long it would be before he took a wife. And would she want to come back to celebrate with him? She might—he seemed to have changed quite a bit, and yet she wasn’t sure she wanted to put herself in her parents’ orbit again.
But she wouldn’t have to. She could travel here with her husband, and they’d stay at the inn, to which she’d become quite partial.
“You’re smiling,” Mr. Duckworth noted. “Are you thinking of the workhouse? It’s a splendid idea, I must say. I’d be delighted to help you with its implementation.”
She blinked at him. In the years she’d known him, he’d never indicated a desire to help anyone. Then again, they’d never discussed it. “That’s very kind of you. I doubt I’ll be starting a workhouse here. We’ll found one in London and see how it goes.”
“Bah, you don’t need to return to London. Marry me, and if you like, we can found one in York.”
He was simply not going to give up. “Except all the other patronesses are in London,” she said sweetly.
“You don’t need them, Miss Snowden,” he said. “My income is rather large. I just can’t let you leave without pressing my suit. I would be a devoted husband and father.”
He already had two children, and since she’d never heard him speak of them, she rather doubted the latter. In any case, she’d had enough of his “suit.” “Mr. Duckworth, while I appreciate your kind…proposal, I am already betrothed to the Earl of St. Ives. We’re to be married within the month.”
His pale brows knitted, causing his entire face to look as though it was puckered. “I heard about that nonsense too. You can’t think he’ll really marry you.”
Nonsense? Just what had her family told him? She sent a scowl in their direction. “Of course he will marry me. Please excuse me.”
She turned and madly searched for a safe haven. Spotting Patience cradling her daughter near the door, Fanny stalked in that direction, eage
r to be away from Mr. Duckworth.
Patience’s eyes lit as she approached. A petite slip of a woman, Patience never failed to make Fanny feel like a giant. As Fanny had grown taller and Patience remained small, they’d laughed at how odd they looked together.
“You look upset,” Patience said, her features darkening as Fanny came to her side.
“Just annoyed.”
“Because of Duckworth?” Patience swayed gently, and Fanny could see that the baby was sleeping.
“He’s rather persistent in his desire that we wed. He even pretended to want to help with my workhouse.” Fanny had told Patience of her idea earlier during her visit.
Patience snorted. “So charming. I hope you told him you were already betrothed.” Patience had been thrilled to hear the news earlier that morning when Fanny had arrived at the church before the wedding.
“I did, but he said David wouldn’t ever marry me, and you can guess where he heard that.”
Patience was aware of the Snowdens’ dislike of titled gentlemen and of the fact that they didn’t care for Ivy’s duke. She found all of it absolutely maddening as well as absurd. “I’m so sorry, Fanny. I’m sad that you’re leaving so soon, but I do understand why. I’m just glad I got to see you again and that you were able to spend some time with Frances.” She smiled down at her daughter, whom she’d named after her dearest friend.
Tears stung Fanny’s eyes as she realized she didn’t know when she would see Patience next. But wait, of course she did. “Patience, you must come to Suffolk for my wedding. Promise me you will. I will pay for everything, if you need me to.” Fanny winced inwardly, hating how that sounded, but desperate for her friend to come.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Patience’s eyes shone as she beamed at Fanny. “Now, go on your way before we both turn into watering pots.”
Fanny bent and kissed Frances’s cheek, then did the same to her mother. Moving quickly, she exited the church, where she met John and Mercy, who were speaking with guests as they departed. She darted a glance toward David’s coach across the street but didn’t see him.
“Are you really not coming to the breakfast?” John asked, drawing her attention. He was tall and fair-haired like their father, before the elder John’s hair had turned mostly white.
“No,” she said. “I’m eager to start my journey south. Mother and Father wouldn’t want me there anyway.”
He exhaled. “No, they likely would not. I’m sorry to see you leave like this, Fanny. I do hope your earl will marry you.”
“You don’t believe he will either?” She let out a rather unladylike snort.
Mercy elbowed her new husband in the ribs. “Of course her earl will marry her. Don’t be a dolt like your father.”
Fanny had to stifle a smile at her friend and ally. Feeling slightly better, she turned to her brother. “I wish you every happiness, John.” She gave him a brief hug, then hugged Mercy.
As she pivoted toward her coach, which was parked in front of David’s, she wondered if he had perhaps changed his mind about speaking to her father. That might be for the best, she decided.
Alas, David had not changed his mind.
He approached her parents, who stood on the path leading to the street through the churchyard, his face intent. Fanny hurried to join them, hoping things could stay somewhat civil.
David offered a gallant bow that made Fanny’s heart sing. If this went poorly, it wouldn’t be because of him. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Snowden. I’m St. Ives.”
Her father sneered. “The jackanapes who plans to run off with my daughter.”
Fanny moved to stand next to David. “He’s not a jackanapes, Father.”
“Nor am I running off with Fanny,” David said calmly. “We are to be wed in Clare. We’d hoped to obtain your blessing.”
Fanny’s mother reached for her and clutched her hand in a rather painful grip. “You can’t marry him. His family likely had your great-uncle killed.” She dashed a furtive glance toward David.
“We did no such thing.” David’s evenness was beginning to fray as his voice rose slightly. He sent a dark stare toward Fanny’s father. “Your uncle kidnapped my aunt.”
Fanny’s father leaned forward with a menacing glower. “He did no such thing. They were in love. He wrote a letter to my father saying so.”
David’s gaze flickered with surprise. “Where is this proof?”
“Long since lost.” Fanny’s father shifted his weight. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” David said, his lip curling.
Fanny wanted to side with David—the man she loved. But it was entirely possible the story her father told was true. She moved slightly, angling herself between them. “There’s no way to know what happened. We can all agree on one thing: it was a tragedy. Would it be better to move forward with a joyous occasion such as our wedding?” She wasn’t sure why she was even trying to make amends with her parents when they were so intent on being disagreeable.
Her father turned on her, his eyes blazing. “It would not be a joyous occasion, you ridiculous chit. It would be a betrayal—as bad as anything your sister has done, if not worse.”
“What did you just call her?” David’s question was deathly quiet, but the violent surge in his gaze made Fanny’s neck prickle.
“Whatever I want.” Her father barely spared him a glance.
David’s arm shot out fast, his hand gripping her father’s elbow. “Apologize to her. I won’t allow you to speak to my future wife in such a manner.”
Her father wrenched his arm away. “I’ll speak to her however I damned well please.”
And then he pulled his other arm back and sent his fist into David’s face.
The blow drove David backward, but he kept himself from losing balance. However, before he could adopt at least a defensive position, the man came at him again.
Unfortunately, Fanny had inserted herself between them.
Snowden’s closed hand connected with Fanny’s cheek, sending her reeling into David’s arms.
The sound of Mrs. Snowden’s gasp was nearly drowned out by the noises coming from the people still collected outside the church.
David cradled Fanny against him. “Are you all right?”
She blinked, her expression one of shock as a bright red spot spread over her cheek where her father had struck her. “Did he just hit me?” She sounded dazed, and perhaps she was.
Raw fury spiked through David, and all he wanted to do was beat her father into the ground.
“Your Lordship, let me.” The soft sound of Fanny’s maid’s voice broke into his angry haze. He turned his head and saw the woman, her chest heaving as if she’d run to the scene, which she likely had.
Turning Fanny over to the woman’s care, he turned his attention to Snowden, advancing quickly and driving his right fist into the man’s chin and then his left into his eye. Snowden staggered back but didn’t fall. Good, David didn’t want this over quickly. He wanted the man to hurt.
“I didn’t mean to hit her,” Snowden said, spitting blood from his mouth. “I meant to hit you.” He lunged forward, his arms coming around David’s middle as he sought to wrestle him to the ground.
Clasping his hands, David brought them down on Snowden’s back. The older man grunted but didn’t let go. He squeezed his grip around David and tried to pull him sideways to put him off balance.
It worked.
David pitched over and hit the ground with a thud, his right arm taking the brunt of the fall. He brought his hands up and put them around Snowden’s neck, not to choke him, but to push him away.
However, the effort ended up doing the former, and very quickly, Snowden’s face turned a bright shade of crimson.
And then other hands were suddenly on them. Two men had joined the fray, one pulling at David’s arms while the other pulled at Snowden.
As the older man’s grip loosened and fell away, David also let go. He sucke
d in air as his heart hammered in his heaving chest.
The man holding him tried to help him rise, but David shook him off. He stood of his own accord and shook his shoulders out. “You’re a despicable father,” David spat.
Snowden stood with the assistance of the other man, who, judging from his looks, was also a Snowden, likely one of Fanny’s brothers. “Your family are murderers. I’ll do whatever I must to keep my daughter from marrying you.”
David longed to hit the man again. “You can’t. She is of age, and she can do what she likes. If you come within ten feet of her again, I’ll kill you.”
Snowden wagged his finger and shouted for all the dozens of spectators to hear, “See? Murderers, the lot of you!”
Growling, David started forward again, but two things stopped him: the man who’d tried to help him up—another Snowden—and the sight of a third man trying to tend to Fanny. She slapped his hand away as he tried to put it around her and take her from the maid.
Pivoting, David started toward the mystery third man instead. “Take your hands off my betrothed.”
The man snapped his shocked gaze to David. “I’m only trying to help her, which is more than I can say for you.” He sniffed.
It was all David could do not to punch this man too. Instead, he moved past the cretin and took Fanny into his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked again.
She nodded, looking less stunned than she had a few moments before. “Please, can we go?”
He touched her reddened cheek and tamped down his fury. “I’m sorry this happened.”
She glanced around at the crowd and flinched, then turned her attention to the man who’d pulled David from Snowden. “I’m sorry, John. This shouldn’t have happened on your wedding day.”
John said nothing, just grimaced as he moved to stand next to a young woman who had to be his bride. She looked at Fanny with sympathy as her husband put his arm around her.
“Can we please go?” Fanny whispered as she burrowed into David’s side.
“Yes.” He turned to the maid and noticed that Fanny’s footman had also come. He was a young lad, but his expression was dark and focused on Snowden, which pleased David. “Will you both see Fanny to her coach?”
