by Darcy Burke
“I thought you might refuse to let me in. Or at least to close the door.”
“Why should I? We’re to be married.”
“Yes.” Hearing him say it—or maybe it was his state of undress or the fact that they were standing in his bedchamber—flushed her with desire.
“Am I correct in assuming you came here to seduce me again?” He moved forward, taking two steps to stand just in front of her.
“No.” She shook her head, feeling flustered. “Yes. And to talk.”
His brow climbed his forehead once more as he reached for the sash of her dressing gown and pulled it loose. The front of the garment opened, and her breasts tingled with anticipation. “What did you want to talk about?”
He pushed the dressing gown over her shoulders and walked behind her to pull it from her arms. He draped it over a chair near the fireplace and returned to her.
Sarah couldn’t seem to find any of the words she’d wanted to say. About his parents. His birthday. His emotions.
How much she loved him.
He picked up the braid of her hair where it lay against her shoulder and began to unwind the curls. “I haven’t seen you with your hair down in years.”
All she could hear was the steady thrum of her heart, its speed increasing as he worked, and the quickening of her breath. When her hair was loose, he ran his fingers through the locks and let it fall over her shoulders and down her back.
“Beautiful. How did I never see that before?” He looked at her in wonder, as if he’d never seen anything like her. She’d imagined a man looking at her like that, but never dreamed it would be Felix. It was both confounding and…right.
“The same way I never saw that you were unbearably handsome.” She reached for one of two frogs that held the banyan closed at his front. “Are you…naked under this?”
He nodded. “Do you want to see? Please say yes, because I am desperate to see you.”
Heat flooded her core, and she unfastened the garment, holding her breath as it separated to reveal his chest. She put her palms flat against his warm flesh. Dark hair tickled her as she moved her fingertips over his muscles. Her pinky met a small bump, his nipple, she realized. She pushed the garment aside and looked her fill.
“My turn.” He bent slightly and with both hands grasped the skirt of her night rail. Gently, he whisked the garment over her head, and the cool air of the room heightened her awareness. Her breasts, already heavy, tightened, especially as his gaze dropped to look at them.
“My God, Sarah. You are absolutely exquisite.” He lifted his hands to her collarbones and gently ran his fingers along her flesh, moving outward to her shoulders and then down her biceps. Then his hands came inward to stroke the outer globes of her breasts.
Desire pulsed through her, and she worked to contain her need lest she cast herself forward against him. He circled his hands up to the top of her breasts, then brought his palms down so that they dragged softly across the ends of her nipples. She gasped softly, eager for him to do so much more.
Using his palms, he rotated them in circles over her flesh, drawing her forward as she sought more contact. Then he gave it to her, closing his hands over her and lifting the sensitive weight. She gasped again and closed her eyes, reveling in the new sensation.
Her breathing became even faster while his caresses remained slow and steady. He stroked her, sliding his fingertips around her breasts and pulling them down over the nipple. After several passes, he used a firmer touch, squeezing her flesh and tugging the nipples, then repeating the action over and over until she was fairly panting with need.
Then he pinched them both, but it didn’t hurt. She opened her eyes as she sucked in a breath in surprise. He bent his head and cupped one breast as he suckled, then he moved to the other, using his thumb to tease the one he’d just left. Back and forth he went, tormenting her, and sparking a sweet craving between her legs.
She closed her eyes again, giving herself completely to the delicious sensations he aroused. The more he worked, the more her pleasure built, and she wondered if he could bring her to release just like this.
Suddenly, something changed. His dedicated, methodical attention shifted. He nipped her flesh and sucked at her, then dragged his hand down her abdomen. His fingers stroked along her sex, and her knees wavered.
“Sarah. You are so damn wet.”
She opened her eyes to see him straighten. He looked at her as he pushed a finger inside her. A growl started low in his throat just before he kissed her. His mouth was open and wet and incredibly wild. She clutched at his shoulders as he held one breast and stroked into her.
Then she was flying. Or so it seemed, because he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and kissed her again, sweeping his tongue deep into her mouth. She curled her hand around his neck and pressed her fingers into his scalp as she kissed him back. The desire she felt for him was both wonderful and terrifying.
All while he kissed her, his hands and fingers caressed her flesh, teasing her nipple and tantalizing her sex. She opened her legs wider, soundlessly begging him to give her release.
His mouth left hers and moved down her neck, his teeth and tongue ravaging her flesh. He drew on one nipple, closing his lips around her and sucking before moving to the other and doing the same. She grasped his hair and cast her head back in abandon. His fingers pumped into her, and then his mouth was on her there. He did to her sex what he’d done to her breasts, licking and sucking until she thrust herself up into him, mindless with need.
At last her release came, breaking her into a thousand little pieces. She dug her nails into his shoulder and with her other hand grasped the coverlet. Before she recovered, he was between her legs, his cock against her sex.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a sense of peace and fulfillment spreading through her. He was so handsome, his familiar features so beloved. There was nowhere in the world she’d rather be—now or forever.
He clasped her hip and with his other hand guided himself into her sex. It was different from before and yet the same. She tilted her pelvis as he slid inside. Then he positioned her legs, curling them around his hips. He leaned forward, and she rose up to kiss him, brushing her lips against his.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He stilled, but only for the briefest moment—so brief, she wondered if she’d imagined it. And then she stopped thinking, for he stole every rational piece of her mind.
His body moved over and into hers, claiming and worshipping her with each thrust and every caress. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breast, and she was completely lost in his embrace. He drove deeper, then stroked her clitoris, pushing her to that place where darkness and passion collided. She cried out just as he did, and then he was gone. Mostly. He continued to touch her, seeing her through the climax until she tumbled to the earth.
She was vaguely aware that he’d collapsed beside her. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to see his arm flung across his forehead as he fought to regain his breath. His eyes were closed, his lips parted.
“You left me again. Why?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “To prevent a child.”
“But we’re getting married. Why does it matter?”
“We aren’t married yet.”
Sarah rolled toward him onto her side. “Should I be concerned that we won’t marry?”
He cracked his eye open then and looked at her, but only briefly. “No.”
“Is it because of what I said?” She tensed, her breath catching as she waited for his response. She hadn’t been able to contain herself. She loved him, and she wanted him to know.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” He rolled over and kissed her.
Was he being purposely obtuse or was it possible he hadn’t heard her? She wanted to make sure. Cupping his face, she stroked his cheek until he looked into her eyes. “I love you, Felix.”
His expression didn’t change. Until it did. He smiled, then kissed her aga
in. “I’ll see you back to your room.”
She knew he’d heard her that time. He had to. What had she expected, a response of the same?
She sat up, afraid to ask what she needed to know, but realizing she must. “Felix, when you swore to never marry, did you also swear to never love?”
He sat up with her, then climbed from the other side of the bed. “I did not.” His response was halting—whether from effort or uncertainty she couldn’t tell. He picked up her night rail, then came around to her side of the bed and gave it to her.
She drew the garment over her head and settled it around her body, feeling cold. He went to fetch her dressing gown and brought that too.
Sarah slid from the bed and took the gown, pulling it on while he donned his banyan. After she tied her sash, she went toward him, moving slowly. “Does it bother you that I love you?”
“No.” He finished fastening his banyan. “Ready?”
“No.” She shook her head, feeling a myriad of emotions—bewilderment, frustration, disappointment. She hadn’t really expected him to say he loved her back, but there was something more here. What did he feel? “I realize you don’t love me now. At least I don’t think you do, otherwise you would have said so. Am I a fool to think you ever will?”
He took a breath, but it was shallow, and the pulse in his neck seemed to pick up speed. “You aren’t a fool, Sarah. Not now and not ever. Let me be honest.”
“Yes, please. I deserve that.”
“You do.” He bowed his head a moment before fixing her with a steady stare. “I don’t love anyone. I never have. And no one has ever said those words to me.”
No one had ever said those words? Sarah’s heart broke. She stepped toward him, her throat constricting. “Oh, Felix.”
His gaze hardened. “Please don’t. I don’t want your pity. I can’t have it.” There was a plea in his tone and a haunting desperation in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It was the closest he’d come to displaying a deep emotion.
But then it was gone. He blinked, and it was as if the sun had pushed the clouds away and now shone brightly through the vivid green of his eyes. “It’s late, and we need to rise early.”
That much was true. She nodded, and he opened the door. She stepped over the threshold and realized he meant to come with her. He’d offered to escort her to her room.
She pivoted toward him. “I don’t need you to come. Good night, Felix.” She left before he could respond. Or maybe she simply couldn’t hear him over the deafening roar of emotion in her ears.
Back in her room, she leaned against the door, her knees buckling. She slid to the floor and landed on her rump. What hell had Felix been consigned to without anyone to love him? How had he become the jovial Duke of Distraction whom everyone admired? How was it possible that he didn’t feel loved?
She wiped at the tears stealing down her cheeks. He was so loved, and she was going to do everything she could to make sure he knew he deserved it.
Chapter 14
Felix was glad Sarah and Lavinia were seated together on the forward-facing seat of his coach, leaving him to sit beside Beck. Because if he’d had to spend the twelve-mile journey to Epping nestled against Sarah, he might go entirely mad. Not just because he wanted her, but because of what she’d said last night.
He refused to even think the words.
He directed his gaze out the window as he had almost the entire trip. They’d reached the edge of Epping and would soon be at their destination.
A few minutes later, the coach drove up to large house situated atop a hill. With pale stone and elaborate brickwork, particularly on the chimney decoration, the manse was a beautiful depiction of architecture from the last century. It was strange to think a murderer was housed somewhere on the grounds, but this was where they’d brought the wounded highwayman.
Felix’s footman opened the door to the coach and put down the step. Felix descended first, followed by Beck, who helped both ladies to descend.
Beck took his wife’s arm, of course, which left Felix to take Sarah’s. The moment she touched him, the anxiety inside him intensified, tying him into even tighter knots. This was torture, this knowledge of how she felt. He’d been a fool to think he could marry her.
They made their way to the door, which stood open. The butler greeted them.
“Good morning,” Felix said. “We’re here to see Lord Colton.”
“He has already departed, I’m afraid.”
Felix exchanged a look of confusion with Beck before looking back to the butler. “Do you know where he went?”
“I do not, but perhaps Mr. Allencourt can be of assistance. They met for a short period. Do you mind waiting here for a moment?”
The butler excused himself and left them in the entry hall.
“What do you suppose happened?” Sarah asked. Her hand on Felix’s sleeve had curled around him with tension, and her face was creased with worry.
“Perhaps the prisoner was already transported to Chelmsford,” Felix said. That was where the assize would be held soon, and the highwayman would be tried for his crimes.
Sarah frowned. “Then Anthony is surely on his way there.” She withdrew from him and paced a few steps, clearly upset.
A man, maybe fifty years in age, swept into the hall. His dark hair was lightly tinged with silver, including the sideburns that encroached along the upper portion of his jaw. He smiled widely as his gaze settled on Sarah. “Miss Colton, what a delight to see you.” He came toward her, and the smile fell from his face as quickly as it had appeared. Taking her hand in his, he bowed. “May I offer my deepest condolences? Your father was a splendid man and a dear friend.” He released her hand, and Felix found he’d been holding his breath.
“Thank you.” Sarah angled herself toward Beck, Lavinia, and Felix. “Allow me to present the Marquess and Marchioness of Northam, and the Earl of Ware.”
Allencourt offered bows to all of them. “Welcome, welcome. I do wish you were visiting under better circumstances. Shall we adjourn to a more comfortable setting?”
“I do appreciate your hospitality,” Sarah said. “However, we are looking for my brother. He was here earlier?”
“Yes, to see the prisoner.” Allencourt’s mouth pulled into a deep frown. “I’m sorry to report that he passed away in the night, the rotter. Too good an end for him, if you ask me.”
Felix could only imagine how Anthony had reacted to the news. He’d been anxious to hold the man accountable.
“I see,” Sarah murmured. Felix noted how her hand clenched and opened and clenched again. “Do you know where Anthony has gone?”
“Oaklands, I believe. Will you be returning there?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you for your time, Mr. Allencourt.” She offered him a weak smile.
He took her hand again. “I would offer any support you require, especially now. I believe your father would want me to look after you. When you are ready to accept callers, I shall be the first.”
Allencourt looked at her with a fervent, almost sexual intensity that made Felix want to hit him. And then he recalled the man’s name—Allencourt. This was the gentleman who’d expressed interest in marrying Sarah. Of course he wanted to call on her. Only she was already betrothed.
But you don’t want that.
He mentally batted away the reminder. Just because he didn’t want to marry didn’t mean he was going to allow this man to prey upon Sarah. Felix stepped toward her and offered his arm. “Thank you again, Mr. Allencourt. Good day.” He escorted Sarah from the hall, preceded by Beck and Lavinia.
They stepped outside into the overcast morning, which was already showing signs of improving as the clouds began to thin.
“Shall we go to Oaklands, then?” Lavinia asked as they made their way back to the coach.
Felix imagined Anthony’s anger and disappointment. He’d lost his parents, his best friend had ruined his sister, and now the man who’d killed his parents had escaped Anthony’s
vengeance. “He may prefer to be alone.” Hadn’t he said he wanted to be?
“I’m sure he does, but our following him clearly establishes that we don’t agree with that sentiment.” Sarah let go of Felix’s arm. “We’re going to Oaklands.” She climbed into the coach, leaving no room for further dispute.
Once they were inside the coach, Sarah sent him an odd look. It was a mixture of curiosity and doubt. Whatever she was thinking, it only added to his discomfort.
It took nearly an hour to arrive at Oaklands, the Colton family’s estate. Smaller than Stag’s Court, it provoked a much stronger sense of nostalgia than Felix’s own home. He recalled times spent here in his youth where other people had provided a buffer between him and his father. Happy times.
Maybe the happiest.
Sarah didn’t take Felix’s arm this time. She hastened to the door and embraced the butler, who hugged her warmly.
“He’s in your father’s study.” The butler cleared his throat. “I mean, his study.”
Sarah nodded and moved into the house. Felix inclined his head to the man, a sturdy fellow in his middle fifties. “It’s good to see you, Inman.”
“And you, my lord.”
Felix introduced Beck and Lavinia, but the butler greeted Lavinia as if they’d already met, and she did the same. “I’ve visited a few times,” she explained.
Inman suggested they go to the drawing room. As they went, Felix felt as if he were walking on a field of broken glass. He was racked with inner turmoil about Sarah and Anthony, and fuck, everything it seemed.
“It must be difficult for them being back here,” Beck said.
“I know it is for Sarah,” Lavinia said. “She was torn between wanting to be here because it’s home and needing to stay away.” She gave Beck a sad look. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist.
Felix turned away. For the first time in years, he thought of his first visit here. He’d come with his father, invited by the Coltons. Aside from George, Anthony had been the only child Felix had met. To befriend a boy with whom he could run and fish and climb trees had filled him with a joy he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Oh, he’d tried to do those things with George, but she wasn’t always allowed—either by her parents who thought she should behave more like a girl, whatever that meant, or especially by Felix’s father who told him he shouldn’t play with girls, particularly the steward’s daughter. But that was only when his father was paying attention, when he wasn’t submerged in a bottle.
