by Amanda Quick
The most delicious sense of joy unfurled within her. She moved her hands up around his neck. “I am so desperately in love with you that when I packed my trunk today in preparation for leaving, I thought my heart might break.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.” She touched her fingertips to his jaw. “And, as you know, sir, I am a woman of very decisive temperament.”
He laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “When it comes to that trait, we are well-matched indeed. No wonder you have swept me off my feet.”
She realized that he was carrying her toward the bed. “Good heavens, the servants, sir. Ned will be coming up here to fetch my trunk, and the hackney is waiting.”
“No one will disturb us.” He dropped her lightly on the bed and peeled off his coat. “I sent the hackney and the entire household away when I got home a few minutes ago. I made it clear that no one was to return for at least two hours.”
She smiled slowly. “Did you, indeed, sir? Were you that sure of yourself?”
“No, I was that desperate.” He sat down on the side of the bed and pried off his boots. “I knew that if I could not convince you to marry me using logic, my only remaining hope was to make love to you until you could no longer think clearly.”
“What a clever notion. That is one of the things that I love about you, Arthur. I have never met another man who manages to combine logic and passion with such amazing skill.”
He laughed again, the sound low and husky and warmed by happiness.
When he came to her a short time later, she opened her arms to him. He undressed her almost as swiftly as he had undressed himself, tossing her gown into a careless heap beside the bed.
He rolled onto his back and pulled her down onto his chest. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him with an urgency that made him groan. She could feel him pressed against her thigh, heavy and rigid with desire.
He slid one hand down her waist to her hip and traced the cleft that separated the swells of her buttocks. His fingers dipped lower, finding the place where she was already damp and aching with need.
She kissed his throat and then his chest, tasting him. When she slipped lower and touched him experimentally with her tongue, wanting to give him the same pleasure he had once given her, he sucked in his breath. She felt his fingers clench in her hair.
“Enough,” he rasped.
Then he tugged her upward and positioned her so that she straddled his thighs. He stroked her, watching her face.
She felt her lower body tightened at his touch. She moved against his hand, twisting and clenching.
And then, just when she thought she could not stand any more of the glorious stimulation, he clamped his hands around her hips and drove himself deep inside her.
She gasped and gave a choked cry as the waves of pleasure rippled through her.
Together they tumbled into the sparkling whirlpool.
Reality returned a long time later. It struck Elenora with such force that she sat bolt upright in bed.
The wager, she though, panic-stricken.
“I beg your pardon, I must get up. Right now.” She tried to push herself free of Arthur’s arm and leg. “Please, let me go. I’ve got to get dressed.”
“No need.” Arthur tightened his arm around her waist and lazily pulled her back down beside him. “No one will be home for another hour.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t marry you unless I can find Mr. Fleming before . . . Never mind, it is very complicated and I don’t have time to explain.”
“Surely you would not be so cruel as to cast me aside now that you’ve had your wicked way with me yet again.”
“It’s not that. Arthur, listen, the most terrible thing is about to happen. I told Mr. Fleming to place a wager on behalf of some friends and myself.”
“Yes.” He gave her a stern look. “I heard about your scheme. You know how I feel about that sort of thing. Remind me to have a long talk with you about the perils of gambling.”
She stopped struggling. “You know about the wager?”
“Yes. I cannot tell you how shocked I was when I discovered that I was about to wed a confirmed gamester.”
She ignored that. “You understand why I must stop Mr. Fleming from placing it in the betting books.”
“Calm yourself, my dear.” He used one hand to propel her firmly back down across his chest and chuckled. “It is too late to stop him from placing your bet.”
“Oh, no.” She dropped her forehead down onto his chest. “My friends and I cannot cover our losses.”
“If it becomes necessary to make good on them, I will allow you to borrow the money from me. Think of it as a wedding gift.”
“I shall have no choice but to take advantage of your generosity.” She did not raise her head. “It was my fault. I convinced my friends that the outcome was a certainty. This is so humiliating. I am sorry to embarrass you like this, Arthur.”
“Mmm. Well, as I said, Bennett placed your bet as you instructed. But upon my advice, he altered the terms ever so slightly.”
Warily she raised her head. “What do you mean?”
“He also agreed to invite a few other people to join your little consortium of intrepid gamesters.”
“Good heavens.”
“The way things stand now,” Arthur said, “You and your friends, together with Roland Burnley, Margaret and Bennett all stand to make a handsome fortune if you agree to marry me by special license before the week is out.”
She was torn between laughter and the most profound astonishment. “That is the wager that Mr. Fleming placed in the betting books today?”
“Yes.” He speared his hands through her hair. “What do you think the outcome will be?”
She felt her love for him well up inside until it filled every part of her being. “I think that the outcome of that wager is a certainty.”
“I am relieved to hear that.” He gave her his rare, sensual smile. “Because I included myself in your little investment scheme.”
“You took a share in my wager?” She laughed in delight. “I don’t believe it. Were you that sure of yourself, sir?”
“No.” His eyes grew intent and very serious. “But I reasoned that if I lost this wager, nothing else would matter, least of all the money.”
“Oh, Arthur, I do love you so.”
He kissed her, long and deep, setting the seal on the promise of a lifetime of love.
EPILOGUE
One year later. . . .
“What you must keep in mind when you contemplate a financial investment is that it is important to look beneath the surface.” Arthur leaned back in his desk chair and studied his small audience. “Ask the questions that others neglect to ask. Make notes. Consider what can go wrong, as well as what you hope will turn out well. Is that clear?”
The twins gurgled at him from the depths of their cradles. Little David watched him closely, obviously fascinated with the lecture. His sister, Agatha, however, appeared more interested in her rattle, but Arthur knew that she was absorbing every detail. Like her mother, she was quite capable of doing two things at once.
He smiled at both of them. There was no doubt about it, he was the father of the most intelligent, most beautiful children in the entire world.
Outside the window, spring had arrived on the estate. Warm sunlight poured into the room. The countryside was green and the gardens were in bloom.
He had brought Elenora here shortly after they were married. London was all very well for the occasional visit, he thought, but neither of them was suited to long periods of time spent in Society. In any event, the air here in the country was far more healthful for the children.
“Money is not the most important thing in the world,” Arthur continued, “but it is an extremely useful commodity.”
The door of the library opened. Elenora, fresh and vivid in a rose-colored gown, whisked into the room. She had a familiar-looking journal in her hand.
“Especially in this household,” Arthur added dryly. “Because your mother appears to be able to spend an endless amount of it on her charities.”
Elenora raised her brows as she walked toward him. “What nonsense are you telling the children?”
“I am giving them sound financial advice.” He got to his feet and kissed her when she came to a halt in front of him. Then he looked warily at the journal. “Do not tell me, let me guess. You require more funds for your new orphanage, correct?”
She gave him her wonderfully brilliant smile, the one that never failed to warm all the places deep inside him, and leaned over the cradles to play with the infants.
“The construction is nearly complete,” she said over her shoulder. “I just need a bit more to cover the cost of the changes to the design of the gardens.”
“As I recall, the gardens were covered in the original budget.”
“Yes, but I want them expanded. We did agree that the children will need a pleasant, attractive place to play. It is important that they get plenty of fresh air and exercise.”
He had married a lady of many talents, he thought. Under her supervision, everything in his world, including the children and himself as well as her newly established charities and their various households, thrived.
“You are correct, my sweet,” he said. “The children in the orphanage will need excellent gardens.”
“I knew you would understand.” She straightened, opened her journal and made a quick note. “I shall send word to the architect this very afternoon telling him to proceed.”
He laughed. Very gently he removed the journal from her fingers and set it down on the desk.
“You once asked me what I did to make myself happy,” he said. “I did not respond to your question that day in the park because I could not. I did not know the answer, you see. Now I do.”
She smiled, her love as clear and bright as the morning sun. “And what is the answer, sir?”
He took her into his arms. “Loving you makes me the happiest man in the world.”
“Oh, my dear Arthur,” she whispered. Joy filled her heart. Her arms slid up around his neck. “I did tell you once that you would make a most excellent husband, did I not? You must admit that I was correct.”
He would have laughed, but he much preferred to kiss her instead.
