Love Reclaimed (3 page)

His movements became more rapid as he pumped in and out of her body. Her heels dug into the mattress so she could meet each thrust with her own. Their bodies slapped together over and over as he took her. Tingles skipped across her skin and pooled where they joined. She could feel her need building and reveled in the way his cock worked her soaking pussy. Mad with desire for him, all self-control lost, she shouted his name as she shattered around him. He drove into her, unstopping as she came until his own release shot deep inside her. He, too, shouted her name as his climax took him. Their bodies, still joined, pulsed in an animalistic rhythm that wrung every last drop of energy from her.

Chapter Two

Jonathan woke up from a nap to find Marie still asleep. The fire had burned to a flickering flame, and in the soft glow of the low light he stared at her. In a slow, sleepy sweep, her lashes revealed her eyes and her wakefulness. He rose from the bed and added some wood to the fire, as much a stalling tactic as a need for warmth. He’d searched her out with the intent of discovering what still lay between them, if anything. The crystal-clear answer left a lone course of action as far as he could see. Despite her sordid life, she’d been raised a gently bred young woman. She’d wound up living the life of a whore through no fault of her own. He could never condemn her for sacrificing herself to save her sisters.

If her wastrel father had done right by his family, she would have become his wife when he returned from his first campaign. Instead, he’d had to marry Miss Jane Landing, a young missish heiress, whose dowry bailed his family out of the poorhouse. All he’d been asked to do was to marry a plain but sweet and wealthy girl. By any reckoning, he’d gotten off lucky.

“Tell me, Marie.” He stood and turned back toward the bed. “If I had returned from my first campaign, and your father had not been so in debt, would you have considered marriage to me?”

She lay silent on the bed, still snuggled under the covers. He returned to her side and slid between the sheets, but left her alone to ponder the question. “What could that possibly matter now?”

He pulled her into his arms, enjoying the feel of her soft woman’s curves against the harder planes of his male body. Beneath the covers he stroked the underside of her breast with a lightness that elicited a purr of contentment from his partner.

She angled herself more toward him. “What is this about?”

“I have always remembered our time together with fond memories. Summers in the fields chasing the cows, wading in the creek between our properties, and Christmas caroling. You always had the loveliest voice.” Obvious discomfort at his remembrances caused her to tuck her face into his shoulder.

“I, too, have fond memories of our times together. Learning to jump fences, swimming in the pond on your property, and the sled races we always held after the first snow.” Her husky tones wove deep inside him and wound themselves around his heart.

“What if we could be together? As we should have been.” He tossed the dice and waited to see how they landed.

The warm woman in his arms stilled before pulling away. Rising from the bed, she donned her dressing gown while turning to face him. “Heartfield, what precisely are you suggesting?” Her eyes narrowed and seemed to bore into him.

He sat up, dragging the covers with him. “I am suggesting exactly what it sounds like I am. I wish to marry you. To spend the rest of my life with you as I should have from the beginning.”

She shook, a visible clue of the emotions simmering beneath her cooling exterior. Her eyes turned a dead mossy color, which did not bode well for the outcome he desired. A pit formed in his stomach in anticipation of her coming refusal. “That is ludicrous. Beyond the obvious issue of everyone in the ton shunning you, there is your familial duty. You owe your line an heir.”

Familial duty. He somehow managed to contain the need to snort.
But wait
. “I have not mentioned the absence of heirs. How exactly would you know that if you had not seen me before now?”

“I traffic in gossip as well as pleasure. It is almost as lucrative a commodity.” Her hands knotted and unknotted over and over again in an unconscious gesture he remembered from their youth. The rest of her tall form stood as still as a statue.

“Bollocks! I am a low-ranking baron of little to no consequence. There is not one man or woman in the ton who would be interested in whether or not I had successfully gotten children on my dear departed wife except for our own mothers who are long since gone to the great beyond.” He rose from the bed, angry she would not admit the truth. She had been keeping abreast of his life.

She still cared.

With a dismissive wave of her hands, she stalked toward the fire. “I must have heard it mentioned in passing by someone. Regardless, what I said still holds true unless you have some heir tucked away I’ve not heard about. Not that you could recognize a bastard.”

“No. There are no bastards and no legitimate heirs. I was a good and faithful husband while Jane lived.” Anger over her lies and casual dismissal of his character burned through him. “As for my family line, there is a cousin who can inherit. I can marry when and where I wish.”

“Heartfield, we do not even know each other. Yes, we enjoyed a physical exchange. We reminisced about our childhoods. But we only know the boy and girl we were. I am a very different woman than you might ever have imagined me becoming.”

“All surface layers to be explored and peeled away. At your core….” He came behind her and pulled her against him until her buttocks nestled against his groin. “Here.” His fist pressed against her chest and over her heart. “Here, you are the same person I knew. Kind, generous, and self-sacrificing.”

A bitter laugh rumbled from her as she pulled away from him. “Kind? Just yesterday I threw one of my girls out on the street with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

Doubt assailed him. Did he know her? His confidence resurged to the fore. “She must have been a thief.”

“She broke one of my rules.” Her face hardened around eyes like green ice. “Generous? I do not help anyone who cannot help me. Nothing is free, my Lord. And the last time I committed the sin of self-sacrifice—nearly twenty years ago—I allowed myself to be auctioned off. After that night, I swore every act I made would be for my benefit alone for the rest of my days.” She prowled toward him, a mocking smile on her face.

Horror washed through him as he gained a peripheral understanding of the differences between the woman before him and the girl he had known. Shoring up his reserves, he dug deep for his belief in the innate goodness of people. Of her. “You have been forced into a hard life which required hard decisions and a need to look out for yourself to survive. But, Marie, it does not change who you are at the core. I cannot believe you are not still fundamentally the same loving person you always were. And none of what you have said changes my desire to be with you. Forever.”

Turning away from him, she faced the fire, but her words carried in biting clarity. “Get out. Put on your clothes in the office and leave. Your money is always good at The Market, but I have no desire to personally indulge you again. Good evening, my Lord.”

Jonathan’s heart crawled up his chest to lodge in his throat. Could she not want him in truth? Perhaps he had pushed too hard, too fast. He’d go and give her a little space, but he would be back to claim his Marie.

The door closed behind him, and Marie let her shoulders slump. Holding them up had been more wearing than everything else they had done together. She raised her hand to her face and discovered the wetness from her silent tears. She wiped it away. With a ragged breath, she straightened up and went to her vanity. There she tidied herself up and repaired her hair to some semblance of order. Draped in her dressing gown, she rang for Phillipe.

“Madame.” He bowed.

“Has Baron Heartfield departed?” She sipped a fresh brandy.

“About five minutes ago, Madame. Is he to be allowed to return in the future?”

“Yes. As long as he appears with a token or a member and pockets to let, the door is always open to him. But if he asks for me, I am indisposed.”

“Very good, Madame. You should be aware Lord Bethany became too rough in the dungeon. We escorted him from the house and I took the liberty of barring him for a fortnight with payments.” Her client liaison looked concerned.

“He had been warned previously. One more incident and he will be banned from this establishment for life. When the fortnight is up send around a note inviting him to return with the understanding his outbursts of violence will not be tolerated again without permanent repercussions. Who did he attack, and how is she?”

“Yes, Madame. It was Celeste. Some of the other ladies are caring for her with a poultice Cook prepared. A few days rest and she will be right as rain. Some of the men in the room restrained Bethany before he could inflict any lasting damage. Is there anything else I may do for you before I close the house up for the night?”

“No. That will be all. Thank you.” Exhaustion swept over her as the door clicked shut. Emotionally wrung out and sore with a physical ache from the tension riding between her shoulders, she longed for the oblivion of sleep. Her day had been up and down like a yo-yo.

***

Five days later, Jonathan decided to try a different tactic with his siege. A frontal assault seemed in order. If she would accept his blunt, then he would spend it in her establishment and prove to her he could be as hedonistic as the next peer. He was, after all, single and his actions should serve to show her he could play by her rules since she no longer seemed interested in playing by society’s after so many years living outside of them.

Sauntering into the room, he spied his prey sitting in the corner by the fire holding court again. Elegant in a bronze silk gown, she glowed with beauty and inner light. The green-eyed monster seethed below the thin veneer of politeness, even as he chastised himself. Of course, he would not be the lone man drawn to her flame. Their eyes met, and he inclined his head in greeting. Her eyes widened and then returned to normal as she turned to laugh at something the man next to her said.

Turning away to hide his desire to rip the doting fop to shreds, he approached the bar. Two quick slugs of brandy bolstered his courage, and he approached the client liaison to inquire after an arrangement. “Good evening.” The man looked surprised to see him.

“Good evening, my Lord. I am Phillipe; how may I be of service to you?”

“I am hoping to find one of the ladies of the house available this evening.” Jonathan imagined his brow must be dotted with beads of sweat his nerves were strung so tight.

“Ah.” He glanced at Marie, who must have nodded. “I believe I have one or two available this evening. Do you have a preference?”

“No blondes.” Jonathan picked at some phantom bit of lint on his sleeve.

“Of course.” Phillipe nodded. “If you will wait here, I will have Celeste join you.”

“Very good.” He returned to the bar to wait for the heretofore unknown Celeste to join him. He did not wait long before a svelte brunette sidled up to him.

“Good evening, my Lord. I’m Celeste. Phillipe sent me.”

“Yes.” The bartender appeared, and Heart ordered a brandy before glancing at Celeste for her order.

“Champagne please.” She smiled a sultry grin, which promised untold delights.

Their drinks appeared, and she took his hand. A short walk upstairs led to a room decorated in various shades of blue. She turned to face him, having set her glass down as the door snicked shut. “Now, my Lord, is there anything in particular you would like to request this evening?”

“Actually, yes. I would like to sit and chat with you. That’s all I wish to do, and I would prefer you not mention it to anyone, including Phillipe or Madame.” He sipped his drink and considered the beauty over the rim of his snifter.

“That’s all you want? Dirty talk.” She winked at him.

“No, just conversation. No sex, no discussing sex.”

“Just conversation.” She blinked. “Well, I’ve had far stranger requests.”

“Excellent. Let us sit by the fire.” He showed her to a chair and handed her the abandoned champagne before taking his own seat. “So, Celeste, where are you from?”

***

Afternoon sunshine caused the dust motes to shimmer and dance in the light. Marie focused on breathing and framing her questions for Celeste. Tall with her dark hair hanging loose, Celeste settled across the sitting area on the opposite settee.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early, but I need to speak with you about a client.” Marie strove to project her normal cool and confident persona despite the inner turmoil she fought.

“It is of no issue, I was already awake.”

“Excellent.” Marie attempted to smile. “How is your back doing?”

“Very good, Madame. I am healing well and it does not pain me overly.”

“Good. I am very sorry you had to suffer such an unpleasant and unexpected episode.”

“Thank you for asking, Madame. Is there something else you wished to ask me about?”

“There was. You entertained a gentleman last night. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair with a bit of salt streaked through.”

Yes, I remember him.” The softening of Celeste’s gaze ate at Marie.

“Did he have any strange requests of you?”

“No, Madame. He was very kind.”

“I see.” She groped for what to ask next. “Did your back upset him?”

“Not at all.” Celeste glanced at the floor and then the art on the walls, her gaze never settled on anything.

“Did he do anything inappropriate?”

“Inappropriate? Madame, we cater to so many unusual requests. What might you be referring to?”

“He didn’t have any desires outside of our normal bounds?”

“No, Madame. As I said, he was very kind.”

“Kind.” Marie couldn’t find a way to ask what she wanted to know without feeling like a meddling hussy. “Did he…satisfy you?”