She looked at him then, their eyes locking as her body gripped his intimately. “I love you,” he said.
The intensity of his gaze matched the strength of his movements. He stroked her, grinding against her in a primal rhythm that marked her forever. He moved slowly, teasing her by entering and withdrawing at a purposeful pace. She writhed toward him, needing, feeling—Wanting more.
Her heart was about to burst. “Fast, Thomas. Take me fast!”
All at once he obliged her, causing her abrupt release, an unending spasm of sensation, of pleasure so intense she felt tears building in her eyes. Their bond was sealed when he flexed within her at the same time, tightening his grip on her as he came. Maggie trembled, her mind and body a tumult of emotion.
Still joined, she lay against his chest as their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. The top of her head fit just below his jaw, and she shivered when he skated one hand up her back and cupped the back of her head.
“We will marry today,” he said, turning them so that they faced each other, resting on their sides.
Maggie’s heart could not have been more full. But there were complications. She touched his mouth, then ran a hand down his whiskered jaw. The law would not allow them to marry on such short notice, but it did not matter. She would wait until they reached their destination, the home she would share with him.
After Thomas met with his solicitor, Maggie met his parents. They were a fine, gracious couple from Suffolk, who seemed genuinely pleased when Thomas introduced her as his fiancée, and delighted by her children. She cringed at the knowledge of all they must have gone through when Shefford and Julian ripped their innocent son from them. It had been unconscionable.
Thomas’s sister was sweet, and clearly eager to embark on their journey to America.
America. Thomas squeezed her hand, instantly calming her nerves. He’d promised her that Zachary could return to England to claim his inheritance if he ever decided to do so. But Thomas did not think he would. He’d told her about Thorne’s Gate, and insisted that once Zac saw it, he wouldn’t want to leave it. None of them would.
There was to be no horse race. Maggie learned that Thomas had already sent his horses to his ships, and would be ready to sail the next day. She had little to pack, but Randolph Redbush had one last drawing to make.
As Thomas’s amused family looked on, Maggie drew a caricature of herself and Tom, standing together inside a wreath of spring flowers, and St. George’s Church in the background. Not that they would wed at the popular Mayfair church, but there would be no mistaking the meaning of this picture. She drew their hands clasped together, with wedding rings distinctly drawn. All of London would know that Lady Blackmore had wed the Sabedorian prince.
The ink dried and Maggie penned a note to Mr. Brown, telling him that this would be her last caricature for The Gazette. She sent the picture and the note to London with one of Tom’s men, asking that Mr. Brown send her earnings to Lord Ranfield. Victoria’s husband would use them to reconcile the rest of Julian’s debts.
When she and Thomas were finally alone, he drew her into his arms. “I’ve been waiting for this all morning,” he said, brushing a melting kiss across her lips. “I have a surprise for you and the children.”
She pulled back slightly. “What?”
“It’s out in the barn. Let’s get them and we’ll go out together.”
Maggie did not let him go, but cupped his face in her hands. “Have I told you how very much I love you?”
He grinned. “Aye. But I’ll never tire of hearing it, Maggie, sweet.”
Maggie didn’t think she’d ever known such happiness, or simple contentment. Nothing in the world mattered besides the life she had begun with Thomas.
She started for the front staircase to fetch the children, but encountered Thomas’s butler, opening the door to callers.
Maggie’s heart sank. It had been unrealistic to hope she could leave England without seeing her family, but there was Beatrice, entering the house with Charlotte, Stella, and her husband, Lord Horton.
“There you are!” Beatrice said in a low, odious tone. “You traitorous girl. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Charlotte sneered. “Exactly what you did to Chatterton. Have you no sense of loyalty? Of responsibility?”
Maggie felt the blood rush from her head as they crowded around her.
“You can never leave well enough alone, can you?” Stella snapped while Horton merely looked on. “You are a menace.”
Beatrice grasped Maggie’s arm and squeezed hard. “I told you to help Shefford, but inste—”
“Enough!”
Abruptly, Beatrice released Maggie’s arm at the sound of Thomas’s harsh voice, but she leveled her coldest gaze at him. “It’s your fault, you…you…foreigner!”
Thomas positioned himself between Maggie and her family. No one had ever taken her part against her mother before, and she nearly wept with gratitude at his intervention.
“Mr. Mickles, open the door, if you please.” Thomas turned to Beatrice. “I suggest you take your leave while you still can, Lady Shefford, before I decide to lodge a complaint against you as an accomplice to your stepson’s schemes.”
Beatrice blustered with indignation. “Why, I have never been—”
“And the rest of you,” he said, shifting so that he could slide his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “You are not welcome in our home.”
“Our—”
“Aye. Our home when Lady Blackmore becomes my wife.” He allowed no more conversation, but drew Maggie away as two footmen joined Mr. Mickles to ensure that there was no delay in her family’s exit.
Her knees felt weak, but Thomas supported her as they went into the drawing room. He bade her to sit down, and then went down on one knee before her. He raised her hand to his lips. “It’s over now. We’ve dealt with Shefford, and you need not have any contact with those vipers ever again. Once we leave, they never need know where you’ve gone.”
For the first time in years, Maggie felt as though she could breathe freely. “After all this time…” She gave him a watery smile. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it.”
He pressed a kiss to her hand and stood. “Wait for me here. I’ll go get the children.”
Tom didn’t think he’d ever seen such a shaggy cur, or bigger paws on a pup. But Zachary squealed with glee when he saw it, and the delight seemed to be mutual. The dog took to Zac like a long lost friend, and Maggie looked up at Tom as though he’d just given her a mountain of riches.
Her sweet gratitude humbled him. “I would give you the world if I could, Maggie.”
“I don’t want the world, Tom. Only you.”
Zac laughed. “Look! He can do tricks!” The dog was running after a stick Zac had thrown. “That shall be his name! Trick!”
Lily stood next to Maggie, clapping her hands happily, uncertain how to approach the exuberant pup. Tom wasn’t sure how they were going to manage Trick on the ship, but he’d gotten more than a dozen horses across the Atlantic. Surely they could deal with one small dog on the trip back to New York.
For the first time in years, he was not thinking about plans and schemes to bring Shefford and Danvers down. There had been something in Edward Ochoa’s story. Tom knew that he was not the one to mete out justice, and it was a surprising relief to relinquish that task. He felt complete.
He had his family now. And the possibilities for them in America were limitless.
Acknowledgments
My absolute gratitude goes to Shannon Donnelly, who knows everything there is to know about horses and horse racing, without whose advice and suggestions I would have been lost. I’d like to thank Nancy Mayer for her unerring knowledge of regency-era law, and Delle Jacobs for knowing so much about sailing ships and sea travel during this time period. These lovely ladies provided me the information—any errors of interpretation are mine.
My thanks to my editor, May Chen, for her thoughtful ins
ights on this and all of my work; and to my agent, Paige Wheeler, for her enthusiastic support.
Romances by Margo Maguire
THE ROGUE PRINCE
TAKEN BY THE LAIRD
WILD
TEMPTATION OF THE WARRIOR
A WARRIOR’S TAKING
THE PERFECT SEDUCTION
THE BRIDE HUNT
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE ROGUE PRINCE. Copyright © 2010 by Margo Wider. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
First Avon Books paperback printing: May 2010
EPub Edition © March 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-199134-9
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