By Love Undone (23 page)

He entered her with a growling moan of possession. At her gasp of pain and surprise and wonder, he froze. “Jesus,” he muttered raggedly. Burying his face against her shoulder, he held his body very still except for the tremors of tension along his arms. He lifted his head again, his dark green eyes burning into hers. “Jesus,” he repeated. “You
were
a virgin.”

Before she could gather her wits enough to say that of course she was a virgin, he kissed her again, deeply and roughly. Slowly his hips began to move again, for
ward and back against her, inside her, and she gasped again. “Oh, Quin, that feels so good,” she groaned, lifting her hips to meet his increasing rhythm. “You feel so good.”

“God, so do you,” he answered, shifting his arms so he could lean down and nibble at her ear. “Hold onto me, Maddie. It gets even better.”

Waves of ecstasy made her whole body tremble as he made love to her. She wasn’t certain she would live through anything better than this. Her ankles lifted around his hips, as though her body already knew what to do. She threw back her head, half-closing her eyes at the erotic, intimate feeling of him, of Quin, moving inside her.

Another shiver of tension began in her most secret core, and then grew until it exploded into a pulsing, shivering jumble of indescribable delight. Maddie cried out, her entire body arching. Above her Quin thrust deep and fast into her a few more times, and then convulsed against her. Slowly he collapsed on top of her, his weight hard and muscled and welcome.

All of the fight driven out of her, Maddie concentrated on regaining her breath and her senses, and absolutely not on contemplating what she and Quin had just done. And what she already wished he would do again.

Quin closed his eyes, savoring the warm, soft feeling of her body beneath his. Having just made possibly the greatest mistake of his thirty years, he probably should feel considerably worse than he did. The most he could manage, though, was a dim sense that his complicated life had just become much more confused.

The wild pounding of his heart gradually slowed, and with a deep breath he lifted his head to look down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Puzzlement showed briefly in her eyes. “Tell you what?”

“That even after Spenser, in all your five years away from London, you’d managed to remain…pure?”

Maddie scowled, then shoved at his shoulders with surprising strength. “Get off me, you big oaf.”

Reluctantly he shifted off of her and sat up. Unable to help himself, he let his gaze drift down to her soft, full breasts, heaving with her angry breath. Maddie had a spectacular bosom. “Was it such an idiotic presumption?”

“Only if you know nothing about me,” she snapped. “You really
did
believe all those rumors, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why did you presume I was a whore?”

He blinked, wishing his brain would hurry up and catch up with his body. That had never been a problem before. “I never did such a thing. It’s just that…five years is a long time, Maddie.” And he’d wanted to make love to her for so long, and then she’d made him so damned angry…sweet Lucifer, he
was
an idiot.

Her gray eyes studied his for a long moment, while the excited flush of her cheeks slowly faded. “So you decided that since I was already ruined, you might as well take advantage.”

He shifted closer to her, noting that despite her words, she couldn’t help dropping her eyes below his waist for a moment. “Now, just a damned minute—I don’t recall your trying to stop anything. Just the opposite, I think.”

“Well,” she began, blushing again, and belatedly covering her lovely chest with her arms, “I simply…got a little carried away.”

At that his lips twitched in a small grin. “I’ll say.”

“You stop that!”

“Well, now we’re in a spot.”

“No, we’re not. Go fetch me another dress, and we’ll go upstairs to bed. The end.”

“To bed together?” he suggested hopefully, caressing her cheek with the palm of his hand.

For just a moment she shut her eyes, leaning into his embrace. “This isn’t funny, you know.”

He chuckled. “I know. It’s a damned tragedy.” And one he was rather enjoying. There was a powerful connection between them, and he affected her just as she affected him. And for once, where Maddie was concerned, he actually felt in command of the moment. Still touching her cheek, he rose to his knees and leaned forward to kiss her lightly, at the same time removing her one remaining hairclip and letting her damp auburn hair tumble down her shoulders. “And in my own, excessively dull way of thinking, I
do
have a solution in mind.”

Slender fingers hesitantly lifted to trace the muscles of his abdomen. “And what might that be?”

She still desired him, whatever better sense she had. He looked at her face, at the yearning and passion even her renewed anger hadn’t been able to drive away. He wondered if she saw a reflection of the same in his own gaze. “Marry me.”

Pure surprise dilated her eyes. “What?”

He smiled. “I said, marry—”

“Why?” she interrupted. “Now that I’m truly ruined, why not just keep me as your mistress or something, so that you can still marry Eloise Stokesley like you’re supposed to?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. At Langley I said I would do right by you, Maddie. I may have…stumbled somewhat, but those weren’t just words. I meant them.”

“Oh, please.”

Maddie stood and grabbed her shift, the only intact piece of clothing left to her. Looking at the carnage, Quin was surprised he hadn’t left bruises on her. For Lucifer’s sake, his breeches were still wrapped around
one ankle, and he still wore his boots. He’d had mistresses before, but never
—never—
had he been so out of control.

“I can hardly wait for your next ‘stumble,’” she continued, pulling the thin garment on over her head and hopelessly disheveled hair. “What will it be? Rendering me naked in the middle of Almack’s assembly?”

“Maddie,” he protested, standing and yanking his breeches back into place. “I am serious. I’ll speak to His Grace in the morning. And we
will
be married. As soon as I can arrange it.”

“No, you won’t. And no, we won’t. It’s stupid to throw away two lives, Quin.” She hesitated, looking up at him. “Whether this had happened or not, three quarters of London thinks I’ve done it with someone. Nothing has changed.”

Now he was offended. “Something damned well has changed.”

“Just listen, won’t you?” she said with more heat. “My chances of tricking some gentleman into thinking me respectable and marrying me are zero.”

She shrugged, loneliness touching her eyes again, making him want to hold her—even though he half thought she would seriously damage him if he tried.

“They are not,” he said.

“They are…and they always were. I came here for the sake of your uncle. And once we complete the spectacle at Almack’s, I will go back to Langley. I never thought otherwise. I can’t believe you did, either.”

He stared at her, righteous indignation warring with his desire to take her again, right there on the floor. He’d known she was bright, but he’d had no idea someone so…impassioned…could be so wise. Too damned wise for her own good. For
his
own good. “But, I—” He stopped the words just in time, just before he said “I love you.” If she’d thought him an oaf before, that state
ment would drop him into irretrievable imbecility.

Maddie bent down to snatch up the tattered remains of her lovely gown. With the bits and pieces gathered in her arms, she unlocked the drawing room door. For a moment she leaned her forehead against the cool, smooth wood, then turned to face him again. “Quin, marry Eloise. Do what you’re supposed to do. You don’t need me in your life.”

Silently she slipped out into the hallway, and a moment later her quiet tread climbed the stairs toward her bedchamber. Quin slowly went about dressing again, and cleaning up the remains of flowers and pillows and broken glass on the carpet. “You’re wrong,” he whispered, lifting a mangled rose and inhaling the light scent of its broken petals. “I
do
need you in my life.”

“Rafe, I think you’re just making this up.”

The younger Bancroft brother finished a graceful series of turns about the huge ballroom and ended by Maddie’s side. “I am not,” he protested, his voice echoing in the empty mirrored room. “It’s all the rage in Paris, and I have it on the best authority that Lady Beaufort
loves
Paris. She’ll be sure to have at least one or two of the latest waltzes, and you don’t want to be left out, do you?”

She sighed. “Actually, yes.”

He chuckled. “Coward.”

Maddie jumped as footsteps echoed into the room behind her, but it was only the duchess. Quin had been absent all morning, and she had to wonder whether he was avoiding her, or if—even worse—he’d gone to set the date for his wedding with Eloise. “Your Grace,” she curtsied.

Lady Highbarrow nodded at Maddie. “My husband is in Parliament this morning,” she announced, and took the seat at the pianoforte. “And you sound as though
you could use some music to cover up the sound of all that awful stomping Rafael is doing.”

“You know how to play a
waltz
, Mother?” Rafe asked in mock amazement.

She lifted an eyebrow at her son. “What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt us.”

“I hope not.” He turned and held his hands out to Maddie. “Come, my dear, let me teach you to waltz.”

“I know how to waltz.”

“Maddie, we’ve been through this already. Do cooperate a little.”

She grinned. “Oh, very well.”

The duchess began to play, and Rafe swept an arm about Maddie’s waist to swing her into the dance. Like most things from Paris, this waltz seemed more scandalous than its British counterpart. Rafe held her so close to him, they were practically….

She blushed, turning her face so he wouldn’t see her sudden discomfiture. She would never forget last night, for it seemed she’d been waiting for Quin to hold her for a lifetime.

“Oh, so now you’ll dance with anyone, will you?”

Maddie stiffened at the sound of Quin’s voice. Luckily, Rafael held her closely enough that she could regain her composure without stumbling. He looked down at her curiously, but she only smiled. “Anyone but you, my lord.”

Rafe nodded approvingly. “Well said. Turned the insult right around, eh, Warefield? And didn’t wallop anyone.”

“Yes, she did,” the marquis admitted grudgingly. At least the admission seemed reluctant to Maddie, for he stayed planted in the doorway, watching her and Rafe twirl about the floor.

Quin looked as impeccably dressed and calm as always, until she glanced at his face. Unless she was mis
taken, he’d gotten even less sleep than she had last night.

It would have been so easy, as he held her in his arms. It would have been so simple, to tell him that she loved him. But it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Whether he returned her affections, or had simply been guided by animal lust, he had been slated to marry Eloise Stokesley for twenty-three years—since Maddie’s birth, and since his seventh year. And her presence could not and would not be allowed to change such an arrangement—not between two families as powerful as the Bancrofts and the Stokesleys.

“Penny for your thoughts, Maddie,” Rafe murmured, glancing over her head at his brother. “Quin hasn’t frightened you, has he?”

“Why in the world would you say that?”

“Thought I heard the two of you arguing last night.”

“We always argue.” Maddie blushed again, and Rafe’s gaze sharpened a little.

“Yes, you do. I’m surprised Quin hasn’t had an apoplexy of his own by now. I thought
I
was the only one who dared argue with the Marquis of Warefield. Except for His Grace, of course.”

“Why do you call Lord Highbarrow ‘His Grace’? Both you and Quin do it,” she asked, to turn the subject.

Rafe shrugged. “He likes it better than being called ‘Father.’ I heard him once, bellowing at Quin: ‘Any damned ass can be a father.
I’m
a duke!’”

Quin strolled over to sit beside his mother at the pianoforte, luckily still out of earshot.

“Might I ask you a question?” she continued carefully.

“Of course, my lady.”

“Why do you and Eloise Stokesley not…deal well together?”

His expression tightened a little as he shook his head. “It’s personal.”

“It doesn’t concern you that your brother is going to marry her?”

“
You
sound concerned,” he replied promptly, obviously trying to put her on the defensive. “Why, do you believe her to be some sort of maniac?”

Maddie forced a smile. “Of course not.”

“Rafe, might I have a go at that?” Quin asked, rising again.

“It’s a bit modern for you, Quin, don’t you think?”

“Very funny,” Quin said dryly. “Hand Maddie over, if you please.”

She didn’t like the way that sounded, as though she was a piece of property. Rafael seemed to sense that, for he hurriedly relinquished her and strolled over to chat with his mother.

“Good morning,” Quin said, studying her eyes as he took her in his arms.

“You might have asked me if I
wished
to dance with you,” she snapped, trying to keep her attention on her anger rather than on the way her body just wanted to melt into his. It was deuced difficult, being hopelessly attracted to someone and having absolutely no hope of any future with him.

“Grumpy, aren’t you? Am I to assume you didn’t sleep well?” he continued mildly, far too calm about the whole mess, as far as she was concerned.

“No, I did not.”

“Mm,” he nodded. “Neither did I.I kept thinking of you.”

Despite his lowered voice, Maddie couldn’t help glancing at the duchess and Rafe. “Be quiet.”

“Aha!” Quin grinned down at her.

“What is it, dear?” Lady Highbarrow asked.

“Nothing, Mother,” he answered easily, still gazing at Maddie with an expression of idiotic triumph on his lean, handsome face.

“What ‘aha’?” she muttered, trying not to scowl.