So, at least that problem was resolved. Time to move forward.
And this thought brought him to Amanda.
Though she was never out of his thoughts and certainly not out of his heart.
He’d have liked to have spoken to her further, after her resounding decline of his proposal in front of most all of high society, but with Stokes aiming to shoot him, and Lord Frankley requiring his assistance, Huntingdon had collected his daughters and sister faster than lightning to leave the soiree.
Crispin knew Amanda’s resounding no had been in reaction to the sighting of Stokes with a pistol, rather than his wedding proposal, and the irony caused him to smile. He saw the love in her eyes as a reflection of his own. And he had for some time.
Perhaps tomorrow or the next day, when events settled, he would pay Huntingdon a call and rewrite history. He exhaled fully with his plan in place.
‘Milord.’ Bootler stood at the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. ‘You’ve a visitor.’
‘I do?’ He couldn’t imagine who would pay a call at half past midnight and then Aunt Matilda appeared and he chuckled at the absurdity. He might have guessed if he’d thought a little harder. ‘Thank you, Bootler. That will be all.’
Crispin came forward in his stockinged feet and didn’t care he wasn’t properly assembled. Aunt Matilda embraced unconventionality in every sense of the word.
‘Lord Hastings.’
‘Crispin, please. I believe we’ve established familiarity enough to warrant Christian names.’
‘Agreed.’ She settled on the upholstered settee and he reclaimed his seat near the hearth. ‘I know the hour is late and I won’t keep you, but I feel it imperative to thank you again for your heroics at the Underworld last evening.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you, but as I mentioned, I acted as any respectable gentleman would. I’m grateful no one was hurt unduly.’
‘I’m indebted to you, and might I mention my brother knows of your honourable defence?’ A short silence settled. ‘I’ve wondered how to thank you properly. I’ve given the subject considerable thought.’
‘Your words and wellbeing are sufficient.’ He rose from the chair and moved towards the bell pull. ‘Excuse my delay in offering you refreshments. Would you care for tea or port? I can summon Bootler.’
Matilda stood. ‘No. There’s no need and it’s far too late to extend this call further. I only wished to delivery my sincere appreciation.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘And one other little matter.’
Crispin found another smile. Of course, another matter existed. Would she insist on further card lessons? ‘Yes?’
Matilda turned towards the door and Amanda entered. She still wore her evening finery, though her coif looked a little the worse for wear. Her eyes met his and it was as though she touched his soul, the calm contentment that flooded every cell.
‘I have brought you the gift of time.’ Matilda gestured to Amanda. ‘Time with my niece is the most precious gift I can give you. Huntingdon believes she sleeps at my home tonight.’ Matilda moved towards the door. ‘Use the time however you see fit. I knew from the start, the two of you were destined for each other.’ She didn’t say more and silently slipped from the room.
At last.
At last.
The two words repeated like a litany in tune to her heartbeat. At last to be in Crispin’s arms.
‘You saved my life.’
The deep rumble of his voice caused her stomach to tumble over with joy. ‘As you did mine.’
‘We’re well suited then. Two of a kind.’ He’d come closer and she looked directly into his lovely blue eyes and smiled. Then she nearly fell into his embrace in her rush to kiss him.
‘I love you, Amanda Beasley.’
She answered against his mouth, anxious for his kiss.
The room fell silent. Only the hiss and settle of the logs in the firebox dared disturb their reunion. Then, without another word, he took her hand in his, led them upstairs to his bedchambers and swiftly locked the doors.
They undressed in tandem, assisting each other as needed, the layers and garments discarded to the floor with prompt removal. Her breath caught when he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal smooth planes of hard skin and bands of muscle across his abdomen. But that was nothing compared to the sensation of his fingertips skimming the skin of her inner thigh as he lowered her stockings. His eyes darkened with the action and she saw not just heat and desire, but reverence and affection.
She stood before him in only her chemise and heard his breathing quicken. He shucked his trousers and stockings, left in only his smalls where she could see the extent of his ardour. Now it was her turn to gasp.
They stood that way a long minute. As if memorizing the moment. As if drinking each other in because once they touched… once they touched, there would be only sensation and gratification and no time spared for thought.
His lovely features were outlined by the fire and the embered light caused his hair to glisten, his skin to hold a sheen. She took a small step forward and her hands trembled, so she laid her palm across his heart and calmed by way of his heartbeat.
‘Are you frightened?’ His voice, husky and careful, skittered through her and she smiled.
‘I’ve never been more sure of anything.’ She snatched her hand back and curled her fingers inward to hold the heat of his skin.
‘One small choice has immense consequences.’
She boldly dropped her eyes to his hips. ‘This is no small choice.’
He chuckled, but the laughter was fleeting, the heat of his gaze having dissolved any humour.
She dipped her shoulder and gently swept the gauzy fabric of her chemise down, over her breasts and stomach, all the way to her ankles where, with a little motion, she kicked it away. She stood before him bared, vulnerable and anxious. Her heart trembled to match her fingers. Still, she waited.
‘You’re more beautiful than I’d imagined and I have set my mind to the task.’ He removed his smalls and cast them beside her chemise.
His breathing grew harsh, as if he was struggling for some reason she couldn’t name. Her eyes fell to his sex and she remained riveted, an inkling of fear demanding attention.
‘I want to make love to you all night, through to morning, as we watch the sunrise.’
Her soul quaked with the picture he’d drawn, his large four-poster bed looming behind him. He looked wicked and handsome and in every way the man she’d dreamed him to be.
And terribly aroused. He looked terribly aroused.
In this she would make no mistake.
His eyes searched her face and she moved closer. He groaned as her skin touched his.
Then his mouth found hers and they clung to each other, the kiss hot, molten desire and too long in the coming. His tongue twined with hers, their breathing already deep and racing. She grasped his shoulders and, as he broke away to list kisses across her collarbone, she could only hold tight. His mouth teased her breast and, when he took her nipple into his mouth, the tip hard and aching, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him to her, the pain-pleasure overwhelming. Lost, she kissed the top of his head, smelled his hair, the scent of shaving soap and male desire. She cosseted closer to his body, all hard muscle and heated skin, and gloried in the sensations he wrought.
She could feel the hard length of him against her stomach and her body ached from the inside out, yearning to be connected, joined, together as one. She grew wetter, impatient and unsteady against him. He placed a hand at her waist, held her still, and smoothed his fingers across her hip bone, between their bodies while his tongue continued to hunt the corners of her mouth.
With unerring grace he found her wet and ready, his fingers curling into her sex with such intense pleasure she inhaled sharply. He stroked, soft, deliberate caresses at first, but in hardly a gasp his touch turned insistent. She gave a whimpering cry and h
e smothered the sound with his mouth. Still, he avoided her most sensitive place, the tight bud of heat that radiated sensation through every cell of her body. He stroked and fondled, sliding his fingers in and out of her with smooth friction while his tongue mimicked a similar rhythm.
Unable to do anything more, she leaned into him, aware her knees had surrendered in kind to her heart. With her languid acceptance, he backed to the bed, all the while nipping and sucking, flicking his tongue over and over the tip of her breast, the shell of her ear, her mouth, her neck.
Then they fell back on the mattress and she jolted into awareness. She would be a participant. She held just as much power as he.
Moving to the side, her hand listed the muscles of his abdomen, each smooth, hard press a temptation she needed to kiss, lick and bite, while her hand wrapped around his erection, thick and hot against her palm.
‘Hell, Amanda,’ he grunted, his eyes closed and head thrust against the bedding. ‘You tear me apart.’
She allowed a secret smile. Inexperienced except for what he’d shown her. Less than confident in any way other than the instinct with which she was born. Desire, heady and demanding, dictated her actions. She leaned into his hard chest and licked over one of his nipples. His body tensed. His cock twitched in her hand. Wanting to prolong the moment, she released him and smoothed her palms over his biceps, then the powerful strength of his thighs, wishing to learn every inch of his body, the shape of his muscles, texture of his hair. He settled his hand on her shoulder, in signal or respite she didn’t know, didn’t care, because it signalled possession, and there was no sweeter feeling to be had.
‘Let me love you, Amanda.’
It was nothing more than a low growl, though he made no move to do so. She rose up on her elbow, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his neck, before sliding over him to settle above his erection. She licked over the tip of his hard arousal and he jerked beneath her. He gave a choked sound, mostly curse, and rolled over, grasping her bottom to settle her beneath him in a smooth reversal of position.
‘Did I hurt you?’ Mortification replaced brashness. She wanted no mistakes.
Something like laughter vibrated between them. ‘No.’ He pressed the tip of his erection to her sex in a gentle nudge and she relaxed beneath him. ‘We have all night to explore each other. I want to make you mine first. I need to make you mine.’
She had no answer, her body composed solely of sensation and longing, and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to him.
Crispin held himself above Amanda, the fleeting recognition that this was her first time struggling hard for existence among the drum of carnal desire. He wanted her. He had wanted her from the moment she’d appeared in his quarters on that ship. Since their first kiss and caress. Since forever, actually.
He wasted no more time on sentimental remembrance and angled his hips above hers. She acquiesced with a sigh and allowed him to settle between her thighs. She was wet, incredibly wet and lush from their loveplay, and the demand to drive into her deep was barely kept at bay.
Her skin was flushed pink and glistening, a slight sheen of perspiration an erotic invitation. He wanted to touch her everywhere, taste her, devour her. Her round, full breasts begged for attention while his swollen erection throbbed in demand he find completion. His breathing became ragged from the exertion of all his thoughts and he pushed it all from his mind and pushed into her, tight and willing, wet, so beautifully wet for him.
He wasn’t a rakehell. He wasn’t a bastard who cared for nothing but his own pleasure, though he tempered his movements, the desire to be inside her so great. He waited, one of the hardest accomplishments of his life, and allowed her time to accept him. He’d noticed the slight wince of her lids as he’d entered her. He wanted her to experience the same bliss, the same endless erotic gratification. He wanted passion and pleasure combined.
She pressed her hips deeper into the mattress and accommodated him. Half a grin curled his mouth. She was ready, as anxious as he. Then he withdrew slightly and entered her again, this time a little deeper, her muscles slick. He thrust deeper still and her tight, hot flesh closed around him, keeping him still, holding him, as he watched her face, all pleasure and no pain. He could wait no longer. He wasn’t that good of a man. And with one final thrust he pushed to the hilt, burying himself in her sweet, hot sex, making her his, claiming the precious gift she offered. One he would cherish for ever.
The moment was timeless, marked by his low grunt and her sudden gasp, though they quickly transcended words. He took up a rhythm of heady pleasure, each stroke raising the stakes. He felt her nails dig into his biceps, her body molten beneath his, accepting and lifting to meet each thrust. She was close to climax, her muscles tight around him, her breathing shallow until, with his next effort, pleasure caught her. Unaware, like a rush of indomitable sensation, her body shuddered and she cried out. He watched, hoping to capture the memory, but his body’s demands forced his attention away.
He wanted to make it last, wanted to spend all night inside her, but her climax, combined with his emotion, threw him into a surge of ferocious need. He sunk into her deep, control shattered as his body spasmed with relief, joy and inordinate pleasure like he’d never known. He spilled into her with nothing but joy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was much later, or fairly early in the morning, depending on how one viewed the hour, after they’d made love two more times, the pursuit of pleasure equalled only by the exhilaration of lying in each other’s arms, when they began a sensible conversation. Up until that point, their vocabulary had consisted of simple words and phrases. More and yes, again were two particular favourites.
They were still in bed as the sun pierced the sky, its morning rays a reminder of how many dawns Crispin had watched in anticipation of the new day, how many times he’d struggled to resolve his future. Today held the promise of clement weather and a dream come true.
He glanced to Amanda nestled under the sheets beside him. Her eyes fluttered open as she awoke and a smile broke across his face. Somehow, despite a series of complicated hurdles, he’d found his way to home and happiness.
Crispin rose and stretched, comfortable with his nakedness and aware Amanda watched him from her cosy place among the covers. He donned his smalls and trousers and caught the draperies to the side to allow a view of the horizon.
Behind him he heard the rustle of covers as Amanda sat up in bed. How easily he could imagine every morning this fine. His heart beat heavily in his chest.
‘I suppose I’ll need to dress and return to Aunt Matilda’s soon.’
He heard the note of reluctance in her voice and turned with a satisfied grin. ‘Not if I keep you in bed all day.’
‘If only it was as uncomplicated as all that.’ She returned his smile, a glisten of delight in her eyes.
‘I didn’t get this right the first time.’ He stepped closer to the mattress. ‘Aside for a resounding refusal that echoed throughout the Frankleys’ ballroom, I almost died in the process of proposing.’
‘Indeed.’ She gathered the silk sheets tightly around her torso in a makeshift wrapper and sat up further, banking pillows behind her for support.
‘But with the new sun upon us and a clear view of my future, I need to ask you the question of my heart.’
‘Yes?’
‘Amanda Beasley, troublesome stowaway and elegant enchantress, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Her eyes twinkled with tears as she reached for him. ‘Yes. Absolutely yes.’
He moved atop the bed and gathered her in his arms. ‘I never envisioned my future like this. I’d given up on happiness.’
‘That was a mistake.’ She searched his gaze, her eyes wide. ‘Our love is for ever.’
She smiled and he kissed her long and hard, his body reacting to her in kind. He brought her back to the pillows and hovered over her delicious mouth for a moment longer. ‘Your
mistakes are what brought us together, Amanda. That’s no mistake at all. That’s fate.’
‘I’d wager that’s true, although I’m the lucky one, Crispin. I’ve won. I’ve the king of hearts…’
For some reason he didn’t understand, her gaze shifted to her reticule where it sat on the nightstand, but he didn’t spend too much time wondering what she was up to. Instead he lowered his mouth to hers and the whisper of her sentence found his ears before he captured her lips.
‘…I’ve the king of hearts in my arms and I’m never letting go.’
Epilogue
Amanda Beasley, soon to be Lady Hastings, Crispin’s wife, viewed the assemblage near the entrance to St Paul’s Cathedral on Ludgate Hill, the highest point in the City of London and the ideal location to watch the sunrise and begin a new life. She relished the quiet moment in the carriage with her father before they joined the celebration. With another glance out of the square window, she smiled, a combination of excitement and giddy nervousness causing a fluttering in her stomach.
An ample gathering of peers and acquaintances, all seemingly enthralled or curious for that matter, congregated near the double walnut doors which led inside the church. Several familiar faces gained her attention and, too, she readily noticed the most perspicacious guest, Lady Pembler, as the older woman darted from conversation to conversation.
As desired, the guest list wasn’t limited to the crème of aristocracy and each proprietor of the Underworld, Maxwell Sinclair and his wife, Vivienne, Cole Hewitt and Lady Gemma, as well as Luke and Georgina Reese, were there to celebrate. Much to her delight, Amanda spied young Nathaniel donned in his best gentleman’s clothes.
‘Are you ready?’
Her father’s hand upon hers brought with it immediate calm. ‘Yes, Father. I truly am.’
With a tap to the roof, he signalled the footman, who opened the door, extended the steps and helped her exit the carriage. Flawless silk flowed behind her like a sea of white. Her divine wedding gown was a special order overseen by Aunt Matilda and created with the help of Madame Monique’s shop. The breathtaking design of white silk shot through with silver was embroidered with satin thread and pearls. The sleeves were trimmed in Brussels lace and layers of gossamer fabric created an illusion Madame Monique promised would appear as if Amanda floated down the aisle. The tongue-in-cheek tease that fewer skirts to cause a tangle would prevail as the better choice was not taken unkindly, and Amanda smiled down at the tips of her embroidered slippers where they peeped out expectantly from her hems. With a dainty primrose wreath in her hair and a bouquet of similar creation, she felt the bride in every way, inside and out, though her fingers trembled.
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