by Amelia Grey
Easing closer, she saw Heron lying in the bed to the right. One arm was out from under the cover and thrown over his head. She smiled and tiptoed over to Fallon’s bed. He was turned away from her toward the wall with covers tucked closely under his chin. She couldn’t see his face but lightly reached out and touched his forehead. It was cool. He wasn’t ill, he’d simply eaten too many plum tarts. She breathed a silent breath of relief and lifted her hand. Fallon rolled over and mumbled in his sleep. He was angelic-looking with his round cheeks and dark brown hair falling across his forehead. A feeling of loss squeezed her heart. She would miss the youngsters’ laughing and fighting when they left after Christmas.
Without thinking, she reached down and kissed the sleeping little boy on the forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, my dear child.”
Lillian left the room as she’d entered it, quietly except for the creak of the door when it closed.
She retraced her steps down the dimly lit corridor. When she rounded the corner that went into the sitting room at the top of the stairs, she stopped. The marquis leaned casually against one of the chairs. There were no lamps burning in the sitting area, just light from the corridor that bridged one section of the house to the other, but she could see well enough to know he was staring at her. And, she’d swear to anyone, that he was looking like he wanted to kiss her.
“My lord, what are you doing here?”
He straightened from the chair and stood before her. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I went to check on Fallon. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have a—” She stopped and bit down on her bottom lip.
“You have a habit of not finishing your sentences, Lillian.”
“With you, I’m always afraid I will say something I’ll regret.”
He huffed a grunt. “You? Regret something you’ve said to me? I don’t believe that could happen.”
At times, he could make her smile without trying. “I might have regretted it if I’d told you what I wanted to this afternoon.”
“So you have no remorse for calling me a worrywart, and there’s something worse you could have said. Now, you have me curious. What is it you might regret?”
“You don’t want to know.” She started to walk past him, but he sidestepped and blocked her way.
“Oh, but I do.”
“If you insist.” She lifted her chin and said, “I was going to tell you that you are smothering the boys with your rigorous studies and your overly cautious regimen of their play time. You will end up hurting them more than you help them if you continue.”
“Ah—smothering them, am I?” he said in a tone that held a tinge of humor. “And what exactly is it that you were doing when you came to check on Fallon tonight?”
“I only wanted to make sure he was all right. It’s not that I was particularly worried about him being sick once I knew his stomach was the problem and not a chill from his wet feet.”
“So you came up to look in on him because you weren’t worried. That makes no sense, Lillian.”
“You worry enough for both of us.”
He moved closer to her and lowered his voice even softer when he said, “You gave him a kiss.”
She gasped as he heart jumped up to her throat. “You saw me?”
He nodded. “I decided to pass on the card games tonight and check on him too, because I was worried and wanted to make sure he hadn’t turned sick again. I didn’t want to disturb your time with him so I waited here for you. Why did you kiss him?”
She nervously moistened her lips. “I don’t know, other than it seemed the right thing to do for such a young motherless child. I know it was very forward of me and I shouldn’t have.”
“I thought it was a sweet, comforting gesture.”
“You’re not upset with me?”
“I appreciate all kindness shown to my nephews.”
His light green gaze swept up and down her face so gently, all she wanted to do was say, Kiss me. She lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see her hunger for him and murmured, “I wish you hadn’t waited.”
“Why?”
Because she didn’t want to be alone with him. She didn’t want to think about how, despite her efforts, she had fallen in love with him and wanted to be caught up in his arms and swept away by his stirring kisses and caresses.
The marquis reached over and let the backs of his fingers trail down her cheek, soothing her. His fingers strayed over to her ear lobe, softly caressing it before letting his fingers leave a trail of shivers down her neck to the top of her gown.
“I’m glad I waited.”
Mindful of his every breath, she looked up at him and said, “I need to go.”
“Not yet,” he whispered as his lips descended toward hers.
“No, I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said earnestly, knowing that she was starving for him to do just that. How could she deny her feelings for him if she couldn’t even deny him a kiss?
He paused. “We’re alone in a darkened part of the house. Whether or not you’ll admit it, I know you want me to, so what kind of man would I be if I didn’t kiss you right now?”
“A gentleman.”
“An overly cautious gentleman. You wouldn’t like that.”
No, she wouldn’t.
Then his warm lips touched hers. Softly, brushing back and forth. Delicate, feathery, enticing.
The marquis raised his head and said, “You’re not a typical young lady, Miss Prim, and that makes you very difficult to forget.”
“Did you try?”
Leaning forward, he slipped his arms around her waist and gathered her up close. “Many times,” he said huskily, and kissed her again.
Oh, yes. This was what she wanted.
Slow curls of unexpected pleasure twirled inside her. It pleased her that he admitted he tried to forget about her. Lillian had tried to erase him from her thoughts, too. She hadn’t changed her mind about how unsuitable they were for each other. There were many reasons the marquis would not be a good match for her, but she wouldn’t deny herself his touch this night.
“Aren’t you going to admit you couldn’t forget about me either?” he asked while peppering her with short, moist kisses along the column her throat and down to the crook of her neck and back up again, sending chills of desire shivering through her.
“No,” she whispered, unable to resist the heat from his body. Sliding her arms inside his coat, she circled them around his slim waist.
“I thought as much.” He chuckled lightly and then claimed her lips with his once again.
Confidently, commandingly. And she loved it.
They kissed over and over, sharing soft kisses, hungry kisses, and kisses broken by erratic breathing. Open-mouth. Deep. Long. With every movement his lips made over hers, their breaths shortened and their bodies pressed closer together. Eager tongues swirled and probed as her open palms explored his broad back, powerful shoulders, and slim hips. The marquis fondled her breasts, caressed her hips, and massaged her buttocks with strong sure hands.
With a growing desire, they moaned, gasped, whispered, and swallowed past passionate after passionate breath. They teased, tasted, and tantalized until Seth lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the settee and laid her down, settling his body over hers as best he could on the small piece of furniture. When Lillian felt his weight upon her, anticipation too thrilling to put into words tingled across her nipples and down her abdomen, settling into the core of her womanhood.
It felt natural and right when he slipped the neckline of her gown off her shoulder to kiss down her chest, and over the swell of her breasts. Through the thin fabric of her gown and stays, the marquis palmed one breast, lifted it, and closed his fingers around its fullness, squeezing gently yet firmly. With little work, he freed her nipple and closed his mouth over it.
Intense pleasure flooded through her. Lillian cupped his head to her chest and moaned as one thrilling sensation after another
splintered throughout her. She gloried in the feelings of wanting this man to possess her.
The heavy sound of masculine steps bounding up the stairs penetrated the fog of exhilarating passion. Lillian and the marquis broke apart with a startled gasp. The marquis jumped up and stepped in front of Lillian as Crispin made it to the top of the stairs.
“Before you say anything, Crispin,” the Lord Wythebury said, “I want you to know that Lillian and I are getting married.”
Married?
Did he just say that? Yes she loved him, but could she marry him?
Lillian gasped and scrambled off the small sofa. “What did you say?” she asked, coming from behind the marquis, straightening the neckline of her gown over her shoulders. “No, no, I don’t know that I can marry you.”
Lord Wythebury looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Of course you can.”
“Well, then my lord, let me put it this way, I don’t know that I’m going to marry you,” she stated firmly.
“I have just compromised you. Your brother-in-law is a witness to it.”
“Compromised me? By a few kisses? I’m afraid not. If that’s all it takes to be compromised then I have been compromised three other times before tonight.”
“Lillian,” Crispin said in a gentle tone of warning. “I don’t think you should admit to—”
“You’ve been kissed three times?” Lord Wythebury asked, taking a step toward her.
“Yes.”
His eyes gleamed hot in the dim light. “Who dared to touch you?”
“I would never tell,” she answered as irritably as the marquis had asked. “But three different gentlemen have kissed me. Not in the way you and I kissed tonight or that other time, but kisses just the same. And, I might add, I doubt there are many, if any, young ladies who have made it through their first Season without a kiss, or two, or three.” She held up her hand to stop his ready reply. “Before either of you say anything, yes, of course we know it’s inappropriate. The problem is gentlemen don’t seem to know that because they are always trying to kiss us.”
“So it’s our fault?” Seth asked hotly.
“Yes,” she answered just as passionately.
“It’s the young lady’s responsibility to keep gentlemen in line, and someone should have told you that.” He inhaled a deep breath and wiped his hand down his mouth. “None of that matters now, Lillian. We’ll be married.”
Lillian’s anger was not appeased by the marquis’ command. Not, will you marry me, but we will be married. That would be her life if she made a match with him. He would never want her to challenge his decisions. At every turn they would be battling. Despite her loving feelings for him, she didn’t want to live that way.
“No, my lord,” she said softly. “We will not marry. While your kisses are so satisfying they make my head spin, I can’t marry you. We would be arguing all the time—about the boys, about our children, about the weather. You would want me to obey you even when I thought you were wrong, and it’s simply not in my nature. You are too serious-minded for me, and I am too strong-minded for you. We will leave it as we wouldn’t suit.”
“I am only serious-minded when I need to be,” the marquis defended, his eyes still flashing.
“Which unfortunately seems to be most of the time. I dare say if I should sneeze, you’d have me put to bed for a week. Even now you are telling me I must marry you.”
“You love me, Lillian. I know it and you know, so why are you being difficult?”
He was right. She did. But . . .
“I love several people but I don’t intend to marry them—or you. I could never put up with your rigid, uncompromising ways day in and day out. I want a husband who enjoys more out of life than you do, someone with more fire for life inside him than it appears you have.”
“If its fire you want is it, Miss Prim? I will show you more fire.”
He reached for her, but Crispin stepped in and laid his hand against Seth’s chest and stayed him. “I think we should take this up again in the morning after both of you have calmed down.” He looked at Lillian. “We’ll discuss this after you’ve had a talk with your sister.” He then turned to the Lord Wythebury. “And I’ve had one with you.”
Lillian looked at the marquis’ grim expression and her heart broke. She loved him. There was no doubt she loved him with her entire being, but she was also afraid that if they married, they might end up hating each other and that would be even harder to bear than walking away from him now.
“There will be no need,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve made up my mind. I won’t change it.”
With that Lillian hurried away.
Chapter 8
It was maddening.
He had met his match.
Marriage wasn’t something Seth had ever given a great deal of contemplation. He didn’t know that he’d ever met a lady and thought about marriage to her. Until now. He knew he’d have to marry one day, but it was always in the future. Nothing he had to think about presently. But the more he looked at Lillian, the more he wanted her. And the more he wanted her, the more he wanted to be with her.
Every day.
All day.
And all night too.
Staring out the upstairs corridor window, Seth gazed on the scene below. The lads were running on the snowy back lawn with their coat tails flapping in the breezy chill. Beyond them, Lillian stood hiding behind a small bare tree, trying not to be seen. Seth could only surmise they were playing a game of tag. When she was spotted, the boys ran full throttle toward their prey with gleeful shouts and boyish laughter. She fled her hiding place and bounded around the corner toward the front of the house and out of sight.
Seth smiled. He had no doubts he loved Lillian and that she would be his. But now he’d also realized that it wouldn’t happen without machinations from him.
The problem was that he’d never before had to work for anything he wanted. No one ever denied him. Until Lillian. If he wanted something, someone found a way to provide it. It had always been that way. He was a marquis. Wealthy. Powerful. He was an expert with a pistol, a blunderbuss, and a blade. Not to mention cards, dice, and, of course, horses. What was there about him not to want?
Besides, she loved him.
Yet, Lillian had said no to marrying him.
He should be thinking, Damnation, I’ll not grovel to any woman. There are just too many young ladies available to worry about just one. But fate had other plans for him, and he did worry about just one. Miss Lillian Prim, the daughter of a viscount, sister-in-law of two dukes was the only one he wanted.
None of that those things really mattered, though. A strong, binding attraction had developed between them when they first laid eyes on each other. He knew she’d felt it too. There had been differences between them, too, but they weren’t unsurmountable. It wouldn’t matter if she were the daughter of a vicar or a tenant farmer, she belonged to him. She just hadn’t agreed to that.
Yet.
But he was working on it. That was why she and the lads were outside, in the cold, playing hide-and-seek at this very moment. He was proving to her he wasn’t always firm in his thinking and doings. He could change. He was learning how to not worry so much about Fallon and Heron’s health and safety.
A movement out the window caught his eye. Fallon had come back into view and was hiding behind the tree Lillian had just vacated. Exactly what a five-year-old would do, he thought with a silent chuckle. If it was a good hiding place for her, it must be a good hiding place for him too.
Seth had tried to tell himself he didn’t love Lillian. That he simply wanted her as he would any other woman he desired. Maybe more, because her smiles and laughter made him feel good, made him think about the joy of a warm summer day, lying in sweet-smelling green grass under a shady oak tree.
With her.
Though she wouldn’t admit it to him the other night, he knew she loved him. He saw it in her eyes every time she looked at him.
Felt it in her touch when they’d kissed. He was convinced she knew he loved her too. She had wooed him without trying, by being herself. Now, the tables had turned. He must woo her.
Lillian was right about one thing—he was studious. And that was to his advantage. If he wanted to know something, be it horses, stars, or steam engines, he read about it. No subject was off limits or too uninteresting for him to study. And he knew the way to beat an opponent at cards, fencing, or any other game or pastime was to study them, watch them, get to know how they think.
After Lillian refused to marry him, and refused to change her mind the next day even following a talk with her sister, he’d thought about kidnapping her, taking her up to Gretna Green, and forcing her to marry him. Fortunately, Crispin had talked him out of that idea. Which was just as well because he really didn’t want to leave the lads.
Though the duke wouldn’t let him run away with Lillian, he’d said exactly what Seth needed to hear. “You’re going to have to work harder if you want to win her hand.”
And that was exactly what Seth was doing. He was determined to have her promise to be his bride by Christmas night.
The first thing Seth did was send one of Crispin’s footmen off to London to make a couple of purchases for him. Second, he’d told the boys there would be no more lessons until after the Twelfth Night. They could play inside—and outside within reason. Third, there would be no pressure from him to Lillian about marriage. It was just as well that this was part of his plan because the rest of Lillian’s family had arrived and she was never alone. There was always at least one of her four sisters with her.
Seth had never seen so much blonde hair and blue eyes in one house. It wasn’t natural for anyone to have had that many daughters who looked so much alike. He’d met Lillian’s oldest sister Louisa, the Duchess of Drakestone, a couple of years ago, but not her younger sisters. Miss Sybil looked to be about fourteen, and the youngest, Miss Bonnie, had told him she was ten. All were beautiful, and not surprisingly, as bold and outspoken as Lillian.
