by Julia Quinn
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you. I see your face when I wake up in the morning, and you’re all I dream about at night. Everything I am, and everything I want to be—”
She rushed into his arms, burying her face in the warm haven of his chest. “You never said it,” she said, her voice nearly strangled by the sobs she’d been holding in for days. “You never said it before.”
“I don’t know why,” he said into her hair. “I meant to, but I was waiting for the time to be right, and then it was never right, and—”
She put a finger to his mouth. “Shhhh. Just kiss me.”
For a split second he was frozen, his muscles unable to move in the face of such supreme relief. Then, overcome with the irrational fear that she might disappear in his arms, he crushed her to him, his mouth devouring hers with a mix of love and longing.
“Stop,” he murmured, pulling slightly away from her. And then, while she looked at him with confusion, he reached for her hair and pulled out a pin. “I’ve never seen it down,” he said. “I’ve seen it mussed, but never undone, shining over your shoulders.”
One by one, he pulled the pins loose, each lost pin freeing a long lock of pale golden hair. Finally, when it cascaded freely down her back, he held her at arm’s length and turned her slowly around. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathed.
She blushed. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I—”
“The most beautiful thing,” he repeated. Then he drew her back to him, lifting a fragrant lock and running it over his mouth. “Pure silk,” he murmured. “I want to feel this when I go to bed at night.”
Elizabeth had thought her skin had felt warm before, but that comment sent her right over the edge. Her cheeks burned, and she would have used her hair to shield her blush had not James touched the underside of her chin and tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes.
He leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Soon you won’t blush anymore.” He kissed the other. “Or maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll keep you blushing every night.”
“I love you,” she blurted out, not sure why she was saying it now, only sure that she had to say it.
His smile spread and his eyes burned with pride. But instead of saying anything in response, he cupped her face and brought her to him for another kiss, this one deeper and more intimate than any before.
Elizabeth melted into him, and his heat seeped into her body, fueling a fire that already threatened to rage out of control. Her body was tingling with excitement and need, and when he swooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom, she made no murmur of protest.
Seconds later they tumbled onto the bed. She felt her clothing slipping away, piece by piece, until she was clad only in her thin cotton shift. The only sound was that of their breathing until James rasped, “Elizabeth…I won’t…I can’t…”
She looked up at him, asking all her questions with her eyes.
“If you want me to stop,” he managed, “tell me now.”
She reached up and touched his face.
“It has to be now,” he said hoarsely, “because in a minute I won’t be able to—”
She kissed him.
“Oh, God,” he moaned. “Oh, Elizabeth.”
She should have made him stop, she knew. She should have raced out of the room and not allowed him within twenty feet of her until she stood next to him in a church as husband and wife. But love, she was discovering, was a powerful emotion, and passion ran a very close second. And nothing, not propriety, not a wedding band, not even eternal damage to her reputation and good name, could stop her from reaching for this man right now and encouraging him to make her his.
With trembling fingers she reached for the buttons of his shirt. She had never before taken such an active role in their lovemaking, but heaven help her, she wanted to touch the hot skin of his chest. She wanted to skim her fingers over his powerful muscles and feel his heart pounding with desire.
Her hands trailed down to his abdomen and lingered there for a moment before gently pulling his linen shirt from the waistband of his breeches. With a shiver of pride, she watched as his muscles bunched and clenched under her gentle touch, and she knew that his desire was something too great for him to contain.
That this man, who had chased criminals across Europe, and, according to Caroline Ravenscroft, been chased by countless women, could be so undone by her touch—Elizabeth was thrilled to the core. She felt so…so womanly as she watched her small hand trace circles and hearts on the smooth planes of his chest and stomach. And as he sucked in his breath and groaned her name, she felt infinitely powerful.
He allowed her to explore him like this for a full minute before a rough growl came from deep in his throat, and he rolled over onto his side, taking her along with him. “Enough,” he gasped. “I can’t…Not another…”
Elizabeth took this as a compliment and curved her lips into a secret, sensual smile. But her thrill at having the upper hand was short-lived. For no sooner had James rolled her onto her side than he’d rolled her onto her back, and before she could draw in even one complete breath, he was straddling her body, staring down at her with raw need and a very male look of anticipation.
His fingers found the tiny buttons that marched between her breasts, and with startling dexterity and speed he undid all five. “Ah,” he murmured, sliding the garment over her shoulders, “that was what we needed.”
He bared the tops of her breasts, letting his fingers tickle into her cleavage before sliding her shift down lower.
Elizabeth clawed at the bedclothes to keep from covering herself. He was staring at her with such burning intensity that she felt heat and moisture pool between her legs. He remained still for nearly a minute, not even raising a single finger to caress her, just gazing down at her breasts and licking his lips as he watched her nipples peak and harden.
“Do something,” she finally gasped.
“This?” he asked softly, grazing one tip with the palm of his hand.
She didn’t say a word, just fought for breath.
“This?” He moved his hand to the other side, and gently pinched her between his fore- and middle finger.
“Please,” she begged.
“Ah, you must mean this,” he said roughly, his words lost as he bent over and drew her into his mouth.
Elizabeth let out a little shriek. One of her hands twisted the bedsheet into a tight spiral while the other sank into James’s thick hair.
“Oh, that wasn’t what you wanted?” he teased. “Maybe I need to pay more attention to the other side.” And then he did it again, and Elizabeth thought she surely would die if he didn’t do something to release the incredible tension that was building inside her.
He tore himself from her for just long enough to pull the shift over her head, and then, while he was yanking off his belt, Elizabeth pulled the thin bedsheet over her.
“You won’t be able to hide for long,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
“I know.” She blushed. “But it’s different when you’re next to me.”
He eyed her curiously as he slid back into bed. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t explain.” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s different when you can see all of me.”
“Ah,” he said slowly, “so does that mean I can look at you like this?” With a teasing glance, he tugged on the sheet until he bared one silky shoulder, which he proceeded to kiss lovingly.
Elizabeth squirmed and giggled.
“I see,” he said, adopting an odd foreign accent just for fun. “And what about this?” He reached down and yanked the sheet off her foot, then tickled her toes.
“Stop!” she shrieked.
He turned back around to give her his most devilish look. “I had no idea you were so ticklish.” He tickled her some more. “This is certainly important to know.”
“Oh, stop,” she gasped, “please stop. I can’t bear it.�
�
James smiled down at her with all the love in his heart. It had been so important to him to make this first time perfect for her. He had been dreaming of it for weeks, of how he was going to show her how exquisite the love between a man and a woman could be. And if he hadn’t exactly pictured himself tickling her toes, he had pictured her with a smile on her face.
Rather like right now.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, “I love you so much. You must believe me.”
“I believe you,” she said softly, “because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.”
James felt his eyes go wet with tears, and he had no words to express the torrent of emotion her simple statement had unleashed. He kissed her again, this time tracing the outline of her lips with his tongue as he slid his hand down the side of her body.
He felt her stiffen with anticipation, her muscles quickening beneath his touch. But when he reached the core of her womanhood, her legs parted slightly to receive him. He toyed with her curls, and then, when he heard her breathing grow shallow and raspy, slipped in farther. She was already ready for him, thank God, because he wasn’t certain he could wait another moment.
He nudged her legs farther open and settled between them. “This may hurt,” he said, hearing regret in his voice. “There’s no other way, but it will get better, I promise.”
She nodded, and he noticed that her face had tensed up slightly at his words. Damn. Maybe he shouldn’t even have warned her. He had no experience with virgins; he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do to lessen her pain. All he could do was be gentle and slow—difficult as that was in the face of the most intense desire he had ever felt—and pray for the best.
“Shhhh,” he crooned, smoothing his hand over her forehead. He moved forward an inch or so, until the tip of his manhood was pressed up against her. “See?” he whispered. “I’m nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You’re huge,” she retorted.
To his utter shock, a burst of laughter escaped his lips. “Oh, my love, normally I’d take that as the highest compliment.”
“And now…” she prodded.
His fingers trailed lovingly over her temple to the line of her jaw. “Now all I want is for you not to worry.”
She gave her head a little shake. “I’m not worried. A little nervous, perhaps, but not worried. I know that you will make this wonderful. You make everything wonderful.”
“I will,” he said, his words fervent against her lips. “I promise I will.”
Elizabeth gasped as he nudged forward, entering her. It all felt so strange, and in an odd way, so right, as if she’d been made for this moment, crafted to receive this man in love.
His hands stole around to cup her buttocks, and he tilted her slightly. Elizabeth gasped at the difference that made as he slid easily in until he reached the proof of her innocence.
“After this moment,” he said, his voice hot against her ear. “You will be mine.” And then, without waiting for a response, he pushed forward, capturing her surprised “Oh!” with a deep kiss.
His hands still wrapped beneath her, he began to move. Elizabeth gasped with each thrust, and then, without consciously realizing it, she began to move as well, joining him in an ancient rhythm.
The tension that had been tickling her insides grew stronger, more urgent, and she felt as if she were straining against her own skin. And then something changed, and she felt as if she were falling off a cliff, and the world exploded around her. A second later, James gave a hoarse shout, and his hands clutched her shoulders with impossible force. For a moment he looked as if he were dying, and then his face was washed with a look of complete bliss, and he collapsed atop her.
Several moments passed, the only sound their breathing as it slowed to an even pace, and then James rolled over onto his side, pulling her against him and nestling against her like two spoons in a drawer. “This is it,” he said, his voice drowsy. “This is what I’ve been searching for my entire life.”
Elizabeth nodded against him, and they slept.
Several hours later, Elizabeth woke to the sound of James’s feet moving across the wooden floors of the hunting lodge. She hadn’t felt him leave the bed, but there he was, slipping back into the bedroom, naked as the day he was born.
She was torn between the urge to avert her eyes and the temptation to stare shamelessly. She ended up doing a little of both.
“Look what we forgot,” James said, waving something in the air. “I found it on the floor.”
“Lady Danbury’s letter!”
He raised his brows and gifted her with his most rakish smile. “I must have dropped it in my haste to have my way with you.”
Elizabeth thought that with all that had happened, he wouldn’t still be able to make her blush, but apparently she was wrong. “Just open it,” she mumbled.
He set a candle on the nightstand and crawled into bed beside her. When he didn’t move quickly enough to open the envelope, Elizabeth grabbed it from him and yanked it open. Inside, she found another envelope, with the following words across the front:
You’re cheating, aren’t you? Do you really want to open this before you’ve reconciled?
Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth, and James didn’t even bother to silence the chuckles that welled up in his throat. “Suspicious, isn’t she?” he murmured.
“Probably with good reason,” Elizabeth admitted. “We did almost open it before we…”
“Reconciled?” he supplied with a devilish grin.
“Yes,” she mumbled, “exactly.”
He motioned to the envelope in her hands. “Are you going to open it?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Proceeding with a bit more decorum this time, she lifted the envelope flap and pulled out a delicately scented sheet of white paper, folded neatly in half. Elizabeth unfolded it, and, heads burrowed together in the candlelight, they read:
My dearest children,
Yes, it’s true. My dearest children. That is how I think of you, after all.
James, I shall never forget the day I first brought you to Danbury House. You were so suspicious, so unwilling to believe that I might love you for yourself. Every day I hugged you, trying to show you what it means to be family, and then, one day, you hugged me back, and said, “I love you, Aunt Agatha.” And from that moment on, you were as a son to me. I would give my life for you, but I suspect you know that.
Elizabeth, you entered my life when the last of my children married and left me. From the first day, you have taught me what it means to be brave and loyal and true to one’s beliefs. During these past few years it has been my delight to watch you blossom and grow. When you first came to Danbury House, you were so young and green and easy to fluster. But somewhere along the way, you developed a quiet poise and wit that any young woman would envy. You don’t fawn over me, and you never allow me to bully you; that is probably the greatest gift a woman of my sort can receive. I would give all that I own to call you my daughter, but I suspect you, too, know that.
So was it so very strange that I should dream of bringing you—my two favorite people—together? I knew I could not do it through conventional means. James would certainly resist any attempts on my part at matchmaking. He is a man, after all, and therefore stupidly proud. And I knew that I could never convince Elizabeth to travel to London for a season at my expense. She would never participate in any endeavor that would take so much time away from her family.
And so my little deception was born. It started with a note to James. You have always wanted to rescue me as I once rescued you, my boy. It was easy enough to devise a blackmail plot. (I must digress for a moment to assure you that the plot was a complete fabrication, and all of my children are legitimate and were, of course, sired by the late Lord Danbury. I am not the sort of woman who strays from her marital vows.)
I was fairly certain that if I could arrange for the both of you to meet, you would fa
ll in love (I am rarely wrong about these sorts of things), but just to plant ideas in Elizabeth’s head, I located my old copy of HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS. A sillier book was never written, but I did not know how else to start her pondering marriage. (In case you are wondering, Lizzie, I forgive you for stealing the book from my library. You were meant to do so, of course, and you may keep it as a memento of your courtship.)
That is my entire confession. I shan’t ask your forgiveness since, of course, I have nothing which begs it. I suppose some might take offense with my methods, and normally I would not dream of orchestrating such a compromising situation, but it was clear that the two of you were far too stubborn to see the truth any other way. Love is a precious gift, and you would do well not to toss it away over a bit of foolish pride.
I do hope you enjoy the hunting lodge; you will find that I have anticipated your every need. Please do feel free to spend the night; contrary to popular belief, I do not control the weather, but I am putting in a request with the gentleman upstairs for a violent rainstorm—the sort in which one would never venture outside.
You may thank me at your wedding. I have already procured a special license in your names.
Fondly,
Agatha, Lady Danbury
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe it,” she breathed. “She engineered everything.”
James rolled his eyes. “I can believe it.”
“I can’t believe she left that bloody little book out, knowing that I would take it.”
He nodded. “I can believe that, as well.”
She turned to him, her lips still parted in amazement. “And she even has a special license.”
“That,” he admitted, “I can’t believe. But only because I obtained one as well, and I’m a bit surprised that the archbishop would issue a duplicate.”
Lady Danbury’s letter slipped from Elizabeth’s hand and fluttered down to the bedsheets. “You did?” she whispered.
James took one of her hands and raised it to his lips. “When I was in London, searching for Agatha’s bogus blackmailer.”
“You want to marry me,” she breathed. Her words were a statement, not a question, but she sounded as if she could not quite believe it.
