Defying the Earl (28 page)

A heady rush of warmth flooded her skin and he pulled her closer. He wore his smalls though he ached with want. Still, he needed her to feel everything he anticipated. He kissed her deeply, his tongue playing havoc with hers, his teeth nipping her lips in a greedy bid for attention. He broke away, cascading affection across her cheekbone, promising secrets as he murmured in her ear, her heated gasp against his neck sending his pulse into triple-time. He nibbled a path below her lobe, over the delectable softness of her shoulder, the graceful curve almost too delicious to abandon despite so many parts waited his attention. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he found her breast with his mouth, the simple pleasure of tasting the rosy tip indescribable, his arousal hard and aching, anxious for completion, but he tempered himself, unwilling to rush their divine love play.

She arched with pleasure as he laved the tip of each breast, soft breathy sounds escaping on a rush of awe and surprise, the peak soft and hard against the sweep of his tongue. Her fingers threaded through his hair, locking him to her heart and the devout pleasure of his attention. Their legs twined with restless anticipation. She had no way of knowing what was to come, yet she pursued it with honest devotion, her curious abandonment of innocence his ultimate undoing.

Breaking free, he trailed kisses down her taut stomach to lick a path at the crease of each thigh and then lower, to the sweet center of her passion, the brush of his jaw against the smooth silky skin causing him to tremble with need, yet struggle to hold back.

He dared a kiss to her center and her hips jerked in response. He smiled, licking the back of each knee, nibbling at the tender flesh there before returning to the apex of her thighs, her body bared and glistening, her raspy breaths the permission he sought.

“Yes.” Her whisper, raw with ache, sounded as fraught with desperation as he felt. “Touch me, please.”

Her husky appeal dug into his heart, burrowing deep, his body alive with want, yet restrained by the desire to make love, not take her with the rushing, burning need consuming his soul.

She wriggled with impatience. “Touch me there.”

He glanced upward where her fingers wound the coverlet tight, her eyes closed, the sheets rustling with each movement, her teeth biting her bottom lip.

“Please, Valerian.”

Her angelic plea drove him to act, all vows forgotten.

“Touch you here?” He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cleft and she shuddered, her legs clamping tight only to open wider as she whimpered an exquisite sigh of acquiescence.

“Yes. Please. Again.”

“Who am I not to do as I’m told?” His husky response revealed restraint barely contained as he feathered another caress against her sex, then another, slower this time. He could feel her warmth, the sensual tremor that followed each sweep of his hand.

“Again, Valerian. Do it again.”

He chuckled, low and satisfied. His sweet, innocent Whimsy became a provocative vixen in bed. All honest emotion. All open passion. He delved one finger between her folds, sinking into her heat, so wet and tight, he struggled for control, his cock pressed hard inside his smalls.

Did he dare taste her? She wavered, so close to release. With each rub of his thumb, each press of his finger inside her, she whimpered and sighed with anxious encouragement, as if she was pained and pleased simultaneously; a sweet angel begging for sin. He didn’t want it to end and all the while, he couldn’t wait for her to climax so he could claim her completely.

Wilhelmina was falling, far and away from herself; spiraling with sensation, sinking in an ocean of wonderful divinity. She’d never imagined intimacy to feel this way, never fantasized about a man, any man, not even Valerian, the man she loved; but what did it matter, the thoughts and fantasies she might have envisioned? She was living it now, experiencing each nuance of sensuality as Valerian touched her and claimed her, branding her body with kisses and caresses. She squeezed her eyes tighter as another wave of torturous bliss reverberated through her body, consuming all emotion.

Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive, her arms and legs tight and tensed, but especially, below, where he played and rubbed with sensual friction, she wanted him, needed more, the aching heat of his touch too much to bear. Every flick of his fingertips caused her body to quiver from the inside out, the exquisite sensations too glorious to understand.

“Please.” She could hardly say the word, embarrassment and desperation battling her every emotion. “Please.”

“Sweet love, I don’t want to hurt you. We have to go slowly.”

“No. I want you. Please, Valerian.”

Something about how she said his name, something about how she pleaded, everything and anything made him abandon all else and act on her request. He shed his smalls and reclaimed his position, caging her with his arms, their bodies pressed tight as they matched eyes.

She smiled and he melted into her, entering her with a gentle urgency that lasted less than a breath. Once embraced in her satiny heat, he relinquished all control with a deep growl of pleasure, driven by unleashed desire and pent-up longing. Each thrust produced exquisite sensation, fast and furious, harder and stronger, until he surrendered all thought, wanting only to feel and need and love; to somehow make the moment last though his body begged for immediate release.

She learned their rhythm with natural fluidity, arching her body to meet his as they joined and withdrew, her low moans echoed in his breathy rasps. She was beauty in motion, all soft femininity and passionate desire. As lovely as the sonnets she coveted. A glimpse of what his future could be…
if only
.

The hopeful notion cut with a sharp slice, but his climax eclipsed the realization and with the last stroke, he withdrew, falling to the mattress beside her, not willing to chance Wilhelmina’s future on another of his selfish mistakes.

At last, her heart slowed to a manageable pace. At one point during their lovemaking, Wilhelmina felt so consumed, so full, so loved, she thought her chest might burst from overflowing emotion. What a fanciful notion, her ideas of romantic love. Yet here she lay, in the circle of Valerian’s embrace and every whimsical childhood idea of poetic adoration blossomed as if a well dug deep and newly filled. She smiled and snuggled closer to the solid muscle of his side. She’d reclaimed her chemise, much to his disgruntled complaint and now, beneath the sheets and cuddled in the warmth of his body heat, she couldn’t be happier. The future was brilliant. She was loved. Livie would be taken care of, as well as Aunt Kate. Valerian had changed everything for the better. A wave of security and happiness settled in her core.

“It’s the middle of the night, Whimsy. I’m sorry if your absence will cause your sister and aunt needless worry. At present it is an unforgivable hour and the weather too vile to return you to London. I’ve long ago released any footmen who might carry a message, but I promise you we will leave for the city at morning’s first light.”

“Thank you. I believe it will be fine.” She placed her hand against his chest, relishing the sensual brush of masculine hair against her fingertips. “I left a note for Livie and I’m not too concerned she won’t be able to smooth matters. Of course, once we arrive tomorrow and explain, I’m sure any misgivings will be erased. Aunt Kate has always wanted Livie and me to have a secure happy future.”

His body tensed, though he remained silent, and her heartbeat kicked up for all the wrong reasons. She measured her breaths, unwilling to look up at his face, partially shadowed in the flickering light of a single candle burning on the bedside stand. Instead she remained huddled at his side, although a chasm opened between them, all earlier warmth evaporated.

“Are you suggesting we marry?”

The five words couldn’t be more direct, spoken with incredible surprise and analogous of the emotion tainting their delivery. He exhaled and the chasm grew wider, her emotions friable.

“I thought…” Her voice trailed away as confusion took hold.

His arm tightened around her shoulders, though she didn’t feel closer to him and still they did not look at each other.

“You said you wanted this.”

She detected a hint of accusation. “Yes.” Out came a shaky breath. “And I meant every word.”

His fingers tightened on her upper arm though it seemed they stood on opposite sides of a ravine, their words yelled across, unsure if either heard or understood.

“Marriage. The idea is preposterous. I have nothing to offer you, nothing to give. Your aunt would be the worst kind of guardian to agree to such a proposal. It is an offer I will not make.”

She stiffened, attempting to withdraw before he perceived her disenchantment, but he held fast.

“Do not misunderstand me.” His tone had softened although that same troubling emotion peppered his objection. “I love you. I want you. Let there be no mistake of the facts. This decision is the most difficult choice I’ve ever encountered, yet you deserve someone who can take care of you in every aspect and I am not that man. I have barely enough to pay my servants and put food in the larder. You warrant the world, and I have nothing but a handful of dirt I call home.”

“So this is a matter of pride?” How she wanted to look him in the eye, yet he held her immobile. Why? What emotion did he wish to conceal?

“Pride?” He laughed, a coarse unpleasant sound. “That troublesome quality dissolved when I chose to serve as
matchbreaker
to the ton dressed in a borrowed waistcoat. No, my pride was sacrificed some time ago.”

“Valerian.” She twisted in an attempt to face him, and failed. “I have a small dowry and the money obtained from my matchmaking has been more than I ever anticipated.”

“I will not discuss such things.” He made a strange sound deep in his chest and with her ear pressed tight to his side she again wondered at the emotion. “You deserve a husband who will lavish you with gifts and attention. Sadly, I am unable to achieve either of the two.” His voice had diminished to a hoarse whisper and he belatedly cleared his throat.

She twisted and succeeded in matching his eyes. “Money doesn’t matter to me.”

“It will when you don’t have any.” This time his wry chuckle, low and deep, reverberated through her. “Perhaps we should get some sleep and continue this discussion in the morning. If you wish to be on the road at first light, we will need to rest.” He reached toward his face, wiping away what could only be fatigue, although she wondered as he cleared his throat a second time and turned his eyes away.

“What’s wrong?”

He did not answer.

His dismissal destroyed her burgeoning courage, waiting to confront his misconception of happiness and assure him she would always love him, not for the size of his bank account, but for the largesse of his heart. Instead, the chasm between them had become fathomless and any joy experienced from their lovemaking paled in comparison to the depth of disappointment settling over her soul.

She remained silent, listening to the crackling flames in the firebox and the steady thrum of rain on the roof. But no, she would not give up so easily.

“If you are concerned about immediate funds, I have security for our future.” She rolled away, taking him by surprise and thwarting any attempt to keep her captive. She slid from the sheets and rushed to the hearth where she collected her mother’s charm bracelet and climbed abed, the heirloom held tight in her clasp.

“What are you talking about?” He wiped at his eyes in a quick movement and adjusted his position so he sat upright, his back supported by the mahogany headboard. For a fleeting moment, she forgot her purpose. The striking image of his bare chest partially covered by the white linen sheet with firelight glossing his coal-black hair, his eyes liquid, left her stunned.

He waited, and she settled her palm on his stomach, unclenching her fingers and revealing the contents. “I can sell my mother’s bracelet. I’ve already had it appraised and it’s worth a great deal.”

His gaze searched her face, his expression inquisitive, before he dropped his eyes to where she’d laid the bracelet. He said nothing, but then he snatched the chain and leaned over the brace of candles at bedside, his fingers holding the bracelet vertically so the charms hung suspended in golden light.

“Where did you get this?”

His voice held an urgency that alerted her answer meant a great deal. “It was my mother’s, a gift from my father on their anniversary, and the only true remembrance I have. We sold most everything after the accident and moved to London with Aunt Kate.”

“This charm…” He tapped the teardrop pearl at the end of the chain with his fingertip. “This charm was not your mother’s. Where did you get it?”

“No.” She twisted and the sheets wrapped around her. When she reached forward to reclaim the bracelet from his grasp, he eluded her. “The last link was empty. Livie and I wondered what might have been there, but recently, it came to be replaced, much to our good fortune.”

“Much to my dismay.” He leaned closer to examine the bracelet and then gently placed it on the nightstand. “The last charm on the chain once belonged to my mother. My father boasted it brought good luck though I never witnessed evidence of his belief. Upon his death, he passed the heirloom to me.” He paused, but not long enough for her to interject. “When my financial situation became dire I was forced to pawn the charm in London. It pained me to do so. I suspect we have The Serendipity Shop to accredit with this unlikely turn of events.”

She considered Valerian’s incredulous conclusions in silence, her mind replaying the curious conversation she’d experienced with the shopkeeper. Chancing another glance to understand his contrary emotions, his expression gave little away. He leaned toward the candle and snuffed the flame between his finger and thumb before reclining in bed, dragging her against his ribs and exhaling long and thoroughly.

“After the tumultuous events of this evening, we should get some rest. Good night, Wilhelmina.”

A thread of resignation colored his words and the emotion troubled her deeply. She’d offered the bracelet as security but perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest idea. A blow to a man’s pride could prove irreparable. She snuggled a mite closer to his side.