Sara Lindsey - [Weston 03]

by A Rogue for All Seasons

  He slipped the privacy bolt on the door, just in case his sisters were ready before he was, and then moved to stand in front of Diana. If he touched her, it would all be over. Just having his hand on hers had sent a surge of desire through him. He wanted her willing, though, not compromised and sated on his sister’s Axminster carpet. Damnation, he needed to get himself under control before he leaped on her like some slavering beast.

  He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “The last time you and I were alone together, you stopped me from asking you an important question, possibly the most important question of both our lives. Today, I will not be stopped.”

  “Please—”

  He shook his head. “I’ll not make this easy on you. You will hear me out.”

  “There is nothing you can say.”

  She believed that. This wasn’t an attempt at playing coy or a display of stubbornness. Henry heard her resignation, her grim acceptance of the truth as she saw it. He strove for patience and understanding.

  “If there is nothing I can say, perhaps you should do the talking,” he suggested. “Give me every reason you believe we cannot be together. For each one, I will give you a reason why we should be together. We will see who has more reasons.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I can, though not often, and I am,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “You are too serious. You need me to make you laugh. That was too easy. Give me another reason.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. He thought she would argue, but instead she offered, “You’re a rogue.”

  “Ah, so we’re back to that? You underestimate your good influence on me. I wouldn’t declare myself completely reformed, but I’ve restricted my roguish attentions to one woman, and I find myself more content than ever before. It’s not only my happiness at stake, though. While you’ve been taming me, I’ve been unleashing the wildness in you. You will never be satisfied with an indifferent lover.” Her deep flush sent a surge of white-hot lust down his spine. “God, I want to kiss you,” he muttered.

  “That’s not a reason.”

  He hadn’t meant that last remark as one of his reasons, but the interpretation had definite possibilities. “I think it’s a very good reason. In fact, I shall count each of the things I want to do to you as reasons we should be together. Now we have at least ten thousand reasons why we should be together—”

  “Wanting is not enough for a marriage,” she insisted.

  “I agree,” he said. But it wasn’t a bad place to start. He moved to sit beside her on the sofa. She tensed and scooted as far away as the cushions permitted. He chuckled. “Di, if I decide to have my wicked way with you, do you really think an extra foot of space between us will save you?” Before she could answer, he grabbed her waist and hauled her back. The little squeak she let out set him to wondering what other interesting noises she might make for him.

  Damn it, he needed to concentrate. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and settled her against him. After a dozen heartbeats, the tension left her body and she leaned into him. “I like having you beside me,” he told her. “I enjoy spending time with you, and I believe you feel the same. I agree that wanting each other isn’t enough, but there’s more than lust between us, isn’t there?

  “As I’m going about my day, I’ll see something that brings you to mind, and I’m happier just for thinking about you. I go about, collecting these little pieces of you that I find in the world; they keep me company until I see you again, but they’re a poor substitute for reality. I can’t imagine not seeing you, not talking with you, not knowing where you are, or what you’re thinking…”

  “You have many friends. I can’t be the only one whose company you enjoy.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “You would marry for friendship?”

  “I wouldn’t marry without it, but friendship alone isn’t enough to satisfy me.” He shifted and caught her face in his hands. He could stare into her eyes for hours trying to memorize all of the shades of green and brown, the way the colors shifted with her dress or her mood. Right now, he only wanted to see one emotion in those hazel eyes, and he prayed his next words brought it forth.

  “Listen to me, Diana, and know that I mean every word I speak. I don’t want to marry you because I desire you to the point of madness. I don’t want to marry you because I will still enjoy speaking to you over the breakfast table in fifty years. I want to marry you—only you, my dear Miss Merriwether—because I love you.”

  He saw a flash of pure joy cross her face before she closed herself off. He allowed her to tug her face out of his hands, but when she made to get up from the sofa, he held her back with a hand on her shoulder.

  “I love you. Have you nothing to say to that?” For long moments, he heard nothing over the hammer of his heartbeat. “You feared I would break your heart. Are you so determined to break mine first?”

  Her breath caught. “You promised not to.” Her words were so soft, anguished.

  “When was I so foolhardy?”

  She seemed surprised he didn’t remember. “We promised each other we wouldn’t fall in love before you suggested our arrangement.”

  He thought back. “No, sweetheart, you said you wouldn’t fall in love with me. I promised you were safe with me.” He cupped her cheek and drew her back to look at him, willing her to see the truth in his eyes. “I promise you will always be safe with me. I can’t change my past, but if you let me, I will promise you my future. I will promise to honor and cherish you. I will promise to worship you with my body, to forsake all others, to care for you and comfort you.”

  His heart clenched as he wiped away the tears that had begun to run down her cheeks. He would make similar pledges on their wedding day, but although a holy man and all their loved ones would witness those vows, Henry knew he would remember these. Alone with Diana in his sister’s drawing room, these promises were no less sacred or meaningful.

  “What has you so scared, Di?”

  Her face tightened and her lips quivered with the effort not to cry. Christ, she was killing him. With a sigh, he tugged her close. “Just let it out, love.” She shuddered as he tucked her head beneath his chin. The first sweep of his hand up and down her back drew forth a whimper. A moment later, the dam burst. Though he hated seeing her upset, he knew she needed this. Knowing it didn’t stop him from wanting to put his fist through a wall—or Thomas Merriwether’s face.

  He expected her to quiet after a few minutes, but every time her cries began to subside, they started up again. “Diana, please talk to me. What I can do to make this better,” he begged. “Tell me why you’re so upset.”

  “B-because I l-love you,” she sobbed.

  The words were muffled against his coat, but he heard them. Yes, he heard them. “Thank God,” he murmured, lifting that stubborn chin as his mouth descended on hers. He lowered her back against the sofa, letting the weight of his torso press her into the cushions. Instinct urged him to subdue this woman—his woman—who had tried to rebuff his claims. He kissed her, time and time again, the intimacy soothing his heart even as it inflamed his body.

  His hands tangled in her hair, holding her captive though she offered no resistance, her mouth and body yielding to him. He didn’t want her passive, damn it. He lifted his head and studied her. Eyes glazed with desire. Lips red and lush from his kisses. Wet cheeks, pink nose and blotchy skin. His lips twitched. If she saw herself in a glass right now, she’d have hysterics. Foolish woman, but she was his foolish woman.

  At her inquiring look, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, but more tears leaked out the corners.

  “Di?”

  She slowly opened her eyes and gave him a tremulous smile. “You make me feel beautiful.” Her arms came up, one hand gripping the collar of his coat, the other reaching to twine in the hair at his nape. He pressed soft kisses to her forehea
d, the salty tear-tracks on her cheeks, and that damnably stubborn chin.

  “Henry.” She exhaled his name, at once a plea and a command. Her fingers tightened in his hair, trying to draw him back to her mouth.

  He willingly obliged, nibbling and sucking on her lower lip. A whimper of pure need escaped her when he lightly scraped his teeth over the sensitive flesh. He meant the kiss to be brief, but he forgot everything when she flicked her tongue against his lips and his world narrowed to their joined mouths.

  He opened to her with a groan of surrender; no man had ever been so happy to concede defeat or to offer himself up to the victor. He’d taught her well, perhaps too well, or mayhap the fierce need growing between them overrode her usual inhibitions, for there was no shyness this time, no moment of hesitation. She tasted him as though she were starving for him, as though she were a sinner and he her salvation. Lord knew she was his.

  Their kiss wasn’t delicate or gentle. They were beyond that. This kiss was about hunger. Desperation. Fear. Relief. This kiss had something to prove. That what was between them wouldn’t—couldn’t—be denied. That in spite of their differences they were right together. That he wasn’t above ravishing her in his sister’s drawing room—

  Henry summoned all of his willpower and ended the kiss. He was breathing harder than after a grueling session in the ring at Gentleman Jackson’s. He pressed his forehead against hers, shaken by the intensity of his response. Christ, he wasn’t sure his heart could handle bedding her.

  A series of images flashed through his mind like lightning. Diana writhing beneath him. Gloriously abandoned and astride him. Her head thrown back and her long, long legs locked around his waist as he took her up against a wall. His cock strained against his breeches, more than happy to engage in any or all of the imagined acts. Before that could happen though…

  With a groan, he forced himself to sit up and Diana followed suit, a worried look on her face. He took one of her hands, brought it to his mouth and kissed the back. “I only have so much control where you’re concerned.”

  The pleasure she clearly took from his declaration sorely threatened it.

  “Now, I want to do this properly. Should I get down on one knee?”

  Diana’s body, so relaxed and pliant just a moment before, grew stiff and unyielding.

  “I love you, Di, and now that I know you love me, you can’t expect me to let you go. I can’t promise there will be no difficulties. You may not have noticed, but we’re both stubborn fools.” Her lips quirked. Surely that smile, small as it was, deserved a kiss.

  His voice was not quite as steady when he continued. “We will doubtless butt heads, or you will throw a plate at my head, and I’m sure I will deserve it. Life is full of disagreements and disappointments, and I want you beside me for those, along with the pleasures and the triumphs. I want for better and for worse with you.”

  “My parents wanted that too,” she said quietly.

  “We’re not like your parents.”

  “How do you know?” Her voice broke on the last word and that about broke his damned heart.

  He took her trembling hands in his. “I know you’re scared, love, and if there were some way for me to show you the future and prove your fears are unfounded, I would. The difficulty with constantly worrying about might happen is that it leaves you with no time to enjoy what is happening. I don’t know what will happen five years or fifty years from now. I do know there are no certainties, and I want however long we have together. Don’t deny me— Don’t deprive us,” he corrected, “of all we already have, of all we could have, for fear of what might be. Please, Di, be brave. I won’t let you down.”

  She gripped his hands. “What if I let you down?”

  Henry smoothed his thumbs over the backs of her hands as he thought for a moment. “For a long time, I believed that as long as I didn’t try, I couldn’t fail. My very wise mother explained, logically enough, that if I never tried, I had no chance of succeeding. In effect, I could do nothing but fail. I’m not asking you to banish your fears overnight or be anything other than yourself. I fell in love with you as you are. The only way you could disappoint me is by running away.”

  Keeping hold of her hands, he knelt before her. “Will you stay with me, Di? Will you agree to be my love, my wife, and the mother of my children? Will you stand beside me and hold my hand as we face whatever adventures life chances to throw our way?”

  A choked sound escaped her as she leaned toward him. He didn’t know who kissed whom first, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she’d said— “Di?” He lifted his lips a fraction of an inch.

  “Mmm?” She blinked at him.

  “I am almost certain that was a ‘yes,’ but just to be sure, would you mind saying it?”

  Her face grew thoughtful as she laid her palm along his jaw. “It.”

  His jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

  Mischief brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. “I can, and I usually am, but with you, I don’t need to be.”

  A wave of tenderness washed over him, and he brought his hand up to cover hers. Holding her hand in place, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Now tell me what I want to hear,” he commanded, adding a little nip of encouragement.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  “Wrong. Word.” He nipped her again.

  “Yes!” She laughed. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

  The sharp rap on the door cut off any further affirmations.

  “Go away,” he yelled.

  “Hal,” Isabella’s voice carried through the wood. “While she is under my roof, I am Diana’s chaperone. Furthermore, I don’t think my drawing room is an appropriate place—”

  Henry shook his head at Diana, who was turning a lovely shade of rose. “She won’t stop talking until I open the door.” He went to the door and slid back the privacy bolt. “Izzie,” he said as he opened the door, “you may be the first to congratulate us.”

  “Oh, I’m so pleased for you both!” Isabella flung her arms around him.

  He hugged her back. “Where’s the other half of the devilish duo?”

  “She had to get home to the baby, but she and Jason will come to dinner to celebrate. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to go see the duke.”

  Henry raised his brows. “A little sure of yourselves, weren’t you?”

  “I did have the key, and a refusal was not going to unlock that door.” Isabella released him to embrace Diana. “Congratulations. I couldn’t be more pleased to have you for a sister, and I have every faith you two will be very happy together.” She looked back at Henry, her eyes bright. “Oh, Hal…” Her voice quavered.

  “Don’t cry,” he warned her gruffly. “I’ve had all the female tears I can take today. Thank you for your help. Now, go away.” He tugged Diana out of Isabella’s embrace and into his. “I want a moment alone with my bride-to-be.”

  “I locked her in a room with you for well over an hour.” Amusement colored Isabella’s voice. “It isn’t my fault if you can’t manage your time wisely. Besides, from the state of Diana’s hair, I believe you managed well enough.”

  As Diana patted at her hair, Henry shot her a glare. “Don’t mind her. You look beautiful.”

  “My maid will set it to rights,” Isabella said. “This won’t be the first time Becky has fixed someone’s hair before dinner”—she winked—”or the last.”

  Diana laughed, and he couldn’t resist kissing her. He breathed in her laughter, happiness, and the utter perfection of the moment. The kiss wasn’t long or deep, but his heart was racing when he drew back. Diana appeared just as affected.

  Isabella cleared her throat. “You’d best stop looking at my brother with such admiration, or he’ll become more insufferable than he already is.”

  “He’s not insufferable,” Diana objected without taking her eyes from his.

  “Just wait,” Isabella advised. “You’ll see.”

  A grin flirted with the
corners of Diana’s mouth. Henry dropped a kiss on one side, then the other.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Diana said with a happy little sigh.

  “No more than I, love,” he agreed, ignoring Isabella’s groans. “No more than I.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  If you ever doubt my love, my dearest Diana, know that I have not written a letter to a female (other than my kin) since I was thirteen and fancied myself in love with Emily Hughes, or at least with the portion of her body between her waist and her neck. Mistress Hughes was a maid at Eton and a dozen years my senior; had she been able to cook, I saw a very happy future for us. Unfortunately, she was impressed neither by my billet-doux nor by my poetry. I will have you know, I labored over those lines. Perhaps she took issue with my poor penmanship, because you cannot deny the brilliance of what little I still remember:

  As you sweep the dirt from beneath the rugs

  I watch, entranced by the sway of your dugs.

  The work here continues on both the house and the stables. I am certain the house will be livable by our wedding, and then we will turn it into a home. Ravensfield and I, we are both very much in need of your woman’s touch…

  —FROM HENRY WESTON TO HIS BETROTHED DIANA MERRIWETHER

  DIANA HAD WORRIED THAT HER mother might think Sir Samuel had been mistreated, but he’d made that difficult. He’d called at Lansdowne House the day after she’d accepted Henry’s proposal. Henry had visited that morning to obtain her grandfather’s permission, and then he’d presented her with a stunning betrothal ring.

  When Sir Samuel called, she and her mother received him. Diana broke the news of her engagement to him as gently as possible. He appeared stunned, and for one terrible moment, Diana wondered if she had been mistaken about his feelings toward her. Then he’d smiled warmly and congratulated her, saying that Henry had stolen a march on him. In the next instant, the baronet had turned to her mother to ask if she could recommend another young lady who might suit him as well as had her daughter.