“Don’t we all?” Francis consoled. “My friend…”
“This friend already gave up an obscenely wealthy heiress to you,” Jack argued, shaking his head. “I will not get within ten, no twenty feet of your former wife’s clutches. You already owe me one.”
“He has you there, brother,” Richard concurred.
“Who then?” Francis wondered. “Jamie, maybe? Ian or Tam? Everyone else is married or too young to take her on.”
“She wouldn’t care.”
“True,” Francis went on, “though their wives might. But still, I’d like to know what she’s up to.”
“Listen, Francis,” Jack suggested, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “Why don’t you get out of town for a couple of days? Make her think you retreated? I’m sure without you here, any plan she might have would be ineffective.”
“Might look like an admission of guilt, too,” Richard corrected.
Francis shook his head. “I go back and forth between here and Glen Cairn regularly when I’m in town. I don’t think there is much to be gained by making a point of leaving, when I do so often enough anyway. I doubt it would even be noticed. Besides, I feel it might be detrimental to let her out of my sights for long. Who knows what might happen?” The men couldn’t help but agree. “Perhaps I’ll talk to Jamie. If nothing else, he could seduce her maid into finding out something for him.”
“It’s a grave assignment, but one he might be able to live with,” Richard snorted indelicately.
“I’ll take that one,” Jack offered magnanimously.
“Sure you will.”
“Sure and the maid might be able to offer names of the bitch’s current lovers,” Jack went on. “You could threaten to expose her affairs if she doesn’t stop her accusations against you.”
Richard looked skeptical. “She wouldn’t care.”
“But the men would, especially if they are married. They would keep her quiet. A bit of blackmail, but it might work. These past days I have felt none of Society’s sting from the scandal as I have in years past and I want none of it now as I court Eve. I need Nessa silenced and well away from here as quickly as possible. Well,” Francis raised his glass. “A plan then! Jack takes the maid and we’ll move forward from there!”
“Hear, hear,” Jack toasted with his glass. “Shouldn’t be difficult to come up with a few men she’s having affairs with.”
“Few dozen, more like,” Richard grunted and they all nodded, raising their glasses as Godfrey entered clearing his throat. “Aye, Godfrey, what is it?” Francis asked without looking up.
“Lady Shaftesbury is here to see you, my lord,” the butler responded, allowing just a bit of pleasure to show through. “I’ve put her in the drawing room, my lord.”
“If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Francis stood and straightened his jacket and cravat.
Jack snorted into his drink. “You make me ill.”
With a laugh, Francis made his way to the drawing room, closing the door behind him before he scooped Eve up into his embrace, swinging her about in a circle. “What brings you here? I thought to see you tonight.” He wrapped his arms around her and she melted into him. “And later tonight…” he whispered, pressing hot kisses onto her shoulder and neck. “God,” he groaned, “I have missed you. One very long night and morning without you and I missed you.”
Evelyn clung to him, catching his mouth in a passionate kiss. “I have missed you, too, my love.” Would she never get used to the bliss of being in his arms? Of the wanton heat that enflamed her when he kissed her? It was most inappropriate for a proper lady to feel this way.
“I need you, Eden. God help me, I need you.” He squeezed her so hard she feared her ribs would break. "Eve. Eden, sweet paradise," he whispered, his voice thick with want. “I want you. I love you.”
Francis felt her body shake in response to his words, her heart beating heavily against his chest.
Eve pulled back, remembering her purpose in defying the rules once again to show up at his door. “Lock the door, Francis.”
As he did so, Eve paced the drawing room. “This is incredibly hard for me. It was one thing for you to have a faceless ex-wife. It was quite another to see her face to face in your arms yesterday.” She shuddered again at this image.
“I did not want her in my arms, Eden,” he defended. “I thought we had covered that.”
Eve heaved a great sigh and picked off her black satin gloves, one finger at a time, dropping them on a small table. “We did. But it is simply beyond the pale for me to come face to face with her in public, Francis. And I’m not sure if I can deal with that at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
"You said that you wouldn't let anything hurt me because of this, but it is, Francis. It seems everywhere I have gone today, that woman is there, announcing her presence and identity to anyone who doesn’t remember her and to all who will listen. She came to the Duchess of Roxburghe’s garden party this afternoon! She gave me the cut direct. It was humiliating.” Eve shuddered with the memory of coming face to face with the ex-countess. She couldn’t deny that Vanessa was a beautiful woman, dark and earthy. Petite in a way that had always made Eve feel awkward. The woman had looked her up and down with a nasty smirk on her lips before cutting Eve in front of the entire party. Abby had argued that Eve should have done it first, but Eve just didn’t have it in her to be so rude. “Everyone whispered and kept looking back and forth between us. How does everyone know about you and me anyway? All this gossip is appalling. It could ruin my reputation.”
Apparently she did not know that her reputation had already received a light tarnish over the past week as a result of his open pursuit of her at the Glenrothes ball, their more public courting and tales being spread by Vanessa. If she knew that much, she would be more than appalled. He wondered how many years it would be before she cast off the past and completely found herself again.
“Rumors only, my love. But do you not think this pains me as much as it does you? Do you not think every time I look at her I want to kill her for what she has done to me? What she is now doing to us?” His voice was heavy. Catching her hand as she paced by, he pulled her to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms about her hips, his head resting against her belly.
“There will never be a happily ever after for us, will there? No happy ending.” Evelyn's voice was sad as she stroked his black hair.
“Give it some time, please. She’ll leave eventually, when she needs more money. I heard her father has cut her off.”
“Will it ever be enough?” Evelyn sighed and pulled away from him. “Even if she takes the money, I somehow wager she will stay simply to taunt you.”
“We will be together, though. Her presence will be insignificant.” He started working on the buttons up the front of her bodice. “You will be mine. You are mine.”
“And I always will be, but I cannot take this sort of humiliation. I don’t want to be an object of speculation. Living like a thief in the dark.” She faced the fire. “I have to get away from it, Francis. I have to leave. I'm going home.”
“I'm not going to let you go,” he whispered fiercely.
“I have to go. At least until it’s all over.”
“No.”
“Will you try to stop me?” she dared with a raised brow.
“You will not run away,” he argued, meeting her challenging expression with one of his own. “You would not give her the satisfaction. If you want to put her firmly in her place, marry me. An engagement between us will have her actions smacking of petty jealousy.”
“I won’t marry you just to stop her, Francis.”
“Marry me because you love me then.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts uplifted by her corset. “Marry me because you want me.”
“I do want you.” She threw her head back, savoring the feel of his hot tongue as it dipped down into her cleavage.
Francis groaned in frustration. “Eden, we’ve lost s
o much time together, so many years and I cannot see you openly here in town lest the gossips take hold and rumors truly start. I want you in my arms each night. I want to wake with you each morning.”
“I want that too,” she whispered. After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn threw her head back, giving herself over completely to the magic of his tongue. She never wanted to be away from his reach, away from his voice, away from the secure knowledge – if nothing else – of his love.
She felt her skirts being drawn up and her pantelettes being torn by his willful hands. His lips crept along her hip bone and stomach before his fingers parted her and his tongue swept her center.
“Francis! Here?”
“Trust me,” he whispered huskily. His tongue plunged into her and out again, swirling around the tiny nub of pleasure before drawing it between his lips and suckling lightly. Again and again his nimble tongue laved her, encircled her, until her knees were buckling and she was clutching his shoulders for support.
When her thighs started to quiver, Francis drew back, ignoring her squeal of protest. He rose and pulled her with him, lifting her completely off the floor. He held her securely, feeling her against him and passionately nipped and sucked on the sensitive flesh of her neck. He pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his big body. He kissed her deeply, losing control of his passion as he always seemed to with her. His hands trailed up her bare hips, lifting her legs so that they wrapped about his waist.
Evelyn held him tightly with her legs, her breath coming faster. Her body was aching with arousal awaiting his possession. Her fingers bit into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer still. Big hands moved over her bottom, his fingers slipping into her, teasing her and stroking her until she was again in the midst of a passionate whirlwind. Little screams and cries escaped her as the frenzy took her breath.
When he lifted her up and set her down on his manhood, her startled cry turned into a deep moan. He pushed her back up to the wall, driving into her over and over as his hands supported her, spread her for his invasion. Her hips moved back against him, driving them both nearly insane. He pushed into her harder, faster and faster, over and over, until she was screaming against the passionate torment. His harsh cry mingled with hers as his huge body collapsed against hers.
Francis stayed there for several long moments until he managed to control his heavy breathing. Unhooking her ankles from behind him, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Evelyn opened her eyes as he set her down and smiled lazily, inviting him to join her there.
Francis complied, stretching his big body out next to hers, feeling intense satisfaction as she curled up next to him. Resting his large hand on her hip, he grinned ruefully down at her. “Now that was romantic seduction at its best.”
Evelyn chuckled and shook her head against his hairy chest, curling her fingers in his hair. “The very best.”
She turned and Francis followed, spooning his body to hers. His chest to her back. Wrapping his arm about her waist, he buried his face in her loose hair. “You're mine.” Damn, Vanessa and whatever madness she had planned, Francis thought. He would not let her come between Eve and him. After a long moment, his deep voice cut softly into the silence once more. “I love you, paradise.”
Her heart warmed at the words and she snuggled closer to him. “I love you, too,” she replied with sincerity.
“No more talk of leaving?”
“For now.”
“If I cannot persuade her to leave by the end of next week, I shall go with you to England,” Francis offered.
“Truly?”
“Aye. Without us here, Nessa will have no reason to spew her venom. I will stay there with you as long as it takes for her to give up this mischief and leave.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and savored the peace between them. “Marry me.”
Eve still shuddered a bit at the thought. “No. I told you why.”
“And I told you I would never try to change you, my love.” He nuzzled her neck. “I love you just the way you are. Marry me and be my partner, my mate.”
"We’ll see."
“Then at least come up to St. Andrews with me this week’s end. If nothing else it will give me a chance to see how badly you play golf,” he teased.
“Oh, you’re going to regret those words!”
Chapter 33
Glenrothes Manor
St. Andrews, Scotland
Francis lifted Eve out of the closed carriage and ran up into the manor, doing his best to get her there before they were both drenched by the rain. “I can’t believe it rained today of all days,” he muttered, as he slipped on the wet steps from the drive. “Stop laughing before I drop you in the mud!” Eve could only laugh more and clung to him as he carried her into the sitting room.
Francis’ ‘small house’ was truly more of a manor on a tract of nearly 300 acres south of St. Andrews township on the coast. The house itself was recently built and indeed small by the standards of the Earl of Glenrothes, having only eleven bedrooms. Its construction had been one of the first things Francis had done after receiving the earldom and the bedroom suites were for each of his siblings when they cared to make use of them. It was lovely and cozy, with none of the airs found in the homes of most nobility.
Eve was thankful for the respite from Edinburgh. The remainder of the week since their talk had been a long and trying one for Eve. It seemed everywhere she went, Francis’ ex-wife was there be it musicale or tea. Vanessa cut Eve directly and spouted her tales of woe to all the matrons of influence. Though most were still reluctant to think ill of the beleaguered Glenrothes and the terribly proper Countess of Shaftesbury, some brows had begun to raise in her direction. Eve had been glad to run from her difficulties for even a single day.
They had made the short train trip to St. Andrews, separated by the necessity to appear apart in the eyes of the other passengers, while sharing provocative looks from rows apart. The rain had started by the time they had reached the course and Connor and Fiona had not yet arrived either as Francis had wired asking them to.
Instead, they had rented a closed carriage to bring them to the cottage to wait out the storm and, Eve thought it necessary to add, to wait for their chaperones before they showed themselves in public as a couple again.
Francis lowered her into a large chaise in the parlor, nuzzling her neck as they went.
“Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?” He nipped her earlobe.
“A half dozen times at least. Of course, you didn’t actually say it but once this morning, though your eyes spoke volumes on the train.” She clenched her fingers in his damp hair and pulled at him to meet her in a tender kiss. Their parted lips played together, deepened as their passions rose. Would they ever get enough of one another, she wondered.
“As did yours.”
“I probably look a fright now.”
“You look enchanting. I would ask when you’ll stop wearing black all the time though,” he added, toying with the buttons on the high neck of her mourning gown.
“It’s all I have right now, but I am having some new gowns made up.”
“I can’t wait to see them.”
“Francis, what are you doing?” she murmured as he started unbuttoning her wet bodice.
“I thought that was fairly obvious, my love.”
“Well! I mean right here?”
“I mean right now,” he corrected.
“But… but…” she stuttered. “Somebody might see!”
“No one is just going to walk in, my love,” he assured her, as his hand snaked up under her skirts and drawers until he found her moist heat. He slipped a finger up and down, lightly enjoying her shudder of delight. His finger dipped inside just a bit and he stopped there, pressing his thumb lightly against her nub as he curled his finger slightly.
Her thighs tensed and she groaned with frustration when he did not continue. Pleased, he grinned down at her and rotated his thumb, pushing a second finger
in with the first. “Do you feel naughty, my Eden, out here?”
“Francis,” she moaned, tossing her head from side to side, trying to push herself up against his hand, but he kept her where she was and rotated his thumb once more. Already she was a throbbing inferno, lightly pulsing against his digits.
“Shall I stop, Eden?” He withdrew slightly and chuckled when she clamped her thighs tightly, keeping his hand between them.
“No-o-o-o,” she moaned, throwing her head back against the chaise.
“‘No’ I shouldn’t do this?” he whispered in her ear and pulled his hand back just a bit. “Or ‘no, don’t stop’?” He pumped his fingers into her core once and then again, thrusting deep inside her.
Eve screamed in her throat and pulled at him. “Francis! Please!”
Amazingly, he resisted her plea. “Please don’t stop?” Francis nipped her neck and murmured against her ear, his breath harsh with his own want and desire. He rotated his thumb against the damp, swollen nub of her desire once more. “Say it, Eve.”
“Do-o-n’t s-s-stop,” she stuttered, the tension building and spiraling in her belly and down her thighs as his fingers slid slowly in and out of her. “Francis, please.”
“Please what?” he urged hoarsely. His own desire was already raging, desperate for release. “Say it, my love.”
Eve shook her head in foggy denial even as she arched again and again against his thrusting hand. Say it? she thought wildly. She could barely think it, much less say it.
“Please what, paradise?” he insisted. “Tell me.” His fingers dipped and retreated over and over as he loosened the fastenings on his trousers with his other hand. Freeing himself, he pushed her skirts up to her hips and positioned himself between her legs, still teasing her with his fingers.
When he stopped, Eve whimpered and stared up at him. “Tell me.”
“Take me,” she begged and Francis thrust home to the hilt. Both of them cried out in the glory of their union as Eve clenched around him. “Take me,” she whispered again, “take me, take me!” she chanted breathlessly as he pounded into her. “Oh my God!”
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