Only Marriage Will Do (13 page)

After her luggage arrived, she remained standing to enjoy the stretch of her muscles after so many hours of sitting in the cramped carriage. She moved to the window that looked out over part of the town. Pretty little cottages, several with flowers in the front yard, lined the rustic street. She should stretch her legs with a walk before dinner. Perhaps the air would lift her spirits. Slim chance of that, but it would do no harm either. She grabbed up her shawl, hurried back down the stairs, and out the front door before Amiable saw her. He’d either stop her or insist one of the servants accompany her and she was in no mood for company.

She had no chaperone, true, but at the moment she didn’t care a fig for propriety. No harm would befall her here. Tomorrow she would begin her life anew, a life without Captain Dawson. Perhaps she needed a bit of rebellion tonight to put that change into perspective. She was her own mistress, by God, at least until Duncan came home. Better start acting like it.

Determined to celebrate her newly declared freedom, she threw back her head and pulled in great gulps of fresh, floral-tinged air. Passing by one of the cottages on her left with a rose garden in the front, she paused to sniff the heady perfume of the full blooms. She raised a large showy pink blossom to her nose and indulged in the sinful fragrance.

“They say ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ Do you agree, my lady?”

His voice came out of nowhere, startling her with more words than he had spoken to her at one time in five days. She raised her head and stepped back from the rose to face Amiable as he strode up to her. He wore a pleasant smile, as though the past days had never occurred. That angered her more than the neglect of those days ever had.

She looked around her, pretending to search for someone. “Do you speak to me, sir? I beg your pardon, but I am not in the habit of conversing with strangers.”

“Lady Juliet, I am hardly a stranger to you.” He smiled, a lazy grin that infuriated her.

“I beg to differ, sir. I might as well have traveled alone these past five days. The solitude has been much the same even in your company.” She turned away, determined to continue her walk, although the slight joy she had taken in it had gone. Of course, he fell in beside her. She would not be able to rid herself of him. Not until tomorrow.

“You have my company and my full attention now, my lady. May you not avail yourself of them on our last evening together?”

Already thinking about leaving her.

“To what end, Captain Dawson?” She did not even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Our slight acquaintance needs no ‘last evening’ of reminiscence. I am fatigued and will dine alone in my room.” She rounded on him, tired of his games. “Indeed, I give you leave to end your escort in the morning. I will be in Guinevere’s Keep before the sun sets tomorrow. There is no need for you to journey all the way there only to leave again immediately.” The words came rushing out before she could think to stop them.

His smile stopped. “I would see you safely home, my lady. As I have come all this way, it seems imprudent not to finish my charge.”

“Imprudent or not, I do not want you.” She turned to go back the way she came, but he brought her up short as he stepped into her path.

“Yes, you made that perfectly clear five days ago.” Something flashed behind his eyes, something she had not seen there before. Anger or hurt?

“Then if it is perfectly clear, Captain Dawson, why do you persist in accompanying me? Why can you not just leave?” She dodged around him but he grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him.

“Oh, I will go, my lady. Although not before I take my leave of you.” His eyes glittered like sapphires, dark and hard.

Then his arms snaked around her, drawing her sharply against him. Every inch of his hard, magnificent body from chest to thighs pressed against her. He squeezed her against him until her breath whooshed out of her body. With one hand, he tilted her face upward as his face descended to meet it.

God, no. Not this.

His mouth closed on hers.

Shivers ran down her body in cold, tingling rivers.

His kiss had changed. Those before had been gentle explorations. Now he pillaged, plundered, ravished her mouth. He stabbed his tongue into her with a ferocity that both repelled and excited her. Oh, how she’d longed for this. She fought back in kind, holding his tongue captive, stroking it, massaging it, sucking it until he moaned into her mouth.

He tipped her face to the side, melding their lips together until she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Her legs weakened. If they didn’t stop soon, she’d collapse right here in the street. Not that she cared.

Amiable slowly disengaged his lips from hers. A protest rose to her lips, but he whispered in her ear. “Don’t send me away, Juliet. Please don’t, love. Come back to the inn with me. Let me love you, sweet.”

Her heart beat so hard it might burst through her chest. Her throat thickened, clogged with sudden tears. The threat of worse pain made her pause and peer into his eyes, lest she discover his words some cruel jest. Instead, tenderness lurked where before there had been only wariness.

The look she had seen Duncan give Katarina—tenderness and love and longing mingled with pain.

She abruptly burst into tears, love and longing, frustration and fear welling forth to ruin yet another of his jackets.

Immediately, he hoisted her in his arms and with swift strides took them back toward the inn. Before he reached the door he whispered, “Shall I carry you straight up, sweetheart, or do you want to walk on your own?”

She clutched him tighter. “Just take me, Amiable. Take me now.”

He swept into the busy room, loud chatting, the clink of bottles and glasses giving way to the soft thud, thud as he mounted the steps to the first floor. The other sounds faded until only the pounding of his feet echoed the pounding of his heart. He opened a door and she looked up to find herself in the parlor, a dinner laid before the crackling fire. Her appetite for food had fled, however. She clung to him, afraid to break the spell.

He continued into her bedchamber and sat them down in the comfortable chair before another fire, her snug in his lap. Just as she had found herself so many times since that first day. The place she seemed destined to be.

He stroked her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves and drawing them closer together in spirit. She would never let this man go, not this side of hell anyway.

“Oh, Amiable,” she sighed into his chest. “I am so sorry—”

One strong finger pressed her mouth closed. “Hush, love. I am sorry, too. Right now, however, is not the time to remember the past. Now is the time for the present and the future.” He pushed straggling wisps of hair from her face, his long, gentle fingers smoothing each strand back into place.

Even his lightest touch sent fire down into her very soul.

He continued his ministrations, reaching underneath her cap to remove a long hairpin. One by one, he took them all out, leaving her hair bound only by the sheer weight contained in the frilly lace cap. He smiled the dreamy smile from the second night of their journey. She beamed at him in return.

With her still clutched in his arms, he carried her to the bed and deposited her on the stepstool. Now taller than him, she used the unaccustomed height to view him from a new perspective. The top of his shiny gold head, pulled back in a simple tie, now came up to her chin. He turned his face up to her, revealing sharp new planes with deep grooves of care around the mouth. Had she put them there? Suddenly, her perch seemed more precarious, vulnerable. She shifted, unsure of herself.

“You are more beautiful than any other woman I have ever beheld.” His soft tone melted her insides like butter on a hot day. “The only thing that could enhance this perfection is to see it unadorned. All your splendor laid bare for me.” His gaze worshiped even as it pled. He raised his hand to the bodice of her gown. “May I, my love?”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off his face. His eyes gleamed as he began removing the myriad pins that formed a frustrating barrier to an even more intimate encounter. He took his time at the task, which maddened her. Could he not just rip the clothes from her body? She shifted as she grew impatient to feel his lips once more. Did he do this on purpose? Her breath quickened as the last pin disappeared, and the garment gaped open, revealing her stays and chemise.

He breathed faster now as well, his gaze fixed on her breasts as they peeked out from the tight material. Under his perusal, they swelled of their own accord, strained against the garment, ached to be freed. He slid his hands up onto her shoulders and grasped the soft material at either side. With an excruciating slowness that drove her wild, he drew the gown off her and dragged it down her body until it pooled at her feet, a blue ring around the footstool.

He stepped forward, his face eye level with her bosom.

She panted, tingling all over.

He untied the neckline of her chemise, the loosened fabric giving way until her breasts threatened to well over top of her tightly laced stays. Enthralled, she stared as his hand twitched the corset, setting just her nipples free to jut proudly above the edge of the garment. The additional pressure of the fabric made them swell and peak, sending a roaring ache down between her thighs.

Amiable continued to smile and moved closer, his mouth poised, level with her breasts. She waited in agony, desperate for the feel of his mouth on her again.

“With such a pretty invitation as this,” he addressed himself to the temptation mere inches from his mouth, “a gentleman can hardly refuse, can he?” He glanced up and the wicked curve to his eyebrows set her blood to pounding. She should grab his head and bury it between her aching breasts.

A smile of pure devilment shot across his face. He leaned forward until she could feel his warm breath on her oversensitive nipples. He paused—an eternity of exquisite torture—then his tongue flicked out, touched one taut nipple for the briefest second.

Astonishing white-hot fire shot from the tip to her core and intensified the ache there. She groaned. In response, he stroked his tongue over the other nipple, then blew gently over her wet flesh. She gulped and closed her eyes. Oh, God, how wonderful. She craved more, though she didn’t think he could possibly do—

He sucked her entire nipple into his mouth.

“Ahh.” Her whole body flushed. She clutched his head, determined not to let him go. Her legs wanted to buckle. If she didn’t sit down soon…Still, she couldn’t bear the thought of stopping him.

His hands worked at her back until her stays slid over her hips, down to her feet. Her breasts, now free, disappeared back inside her shift as his mouth left them and she sagged against him, unable to stand a moment longer. He supported her while he stripped her final garment away.

Amiable grasped her hands and stood back. His gaze feasted on her naked form, taking in every bit of her. He then drew her cap from her head, allowing her blond curls to cascade wildly over shoulders, breasts, down to her hips. His slow exhale and guttural moan told his satisfaction.

Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pull her hands free, to shield herself from his rapt attention. He shook his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes.

“Ah, love. You would not deny me the sight I have dreamed of for these past five days? Those dreams were but a pale reflection of the beauty I see before me now. Oh, Juliet. My eyes dazzle.”

Her body flushed with heat all over again at his extravagant words. She wrapped her arms round his neck, lowered her lips to his ear, and whispered, “Will you return this favor? I too want to see and feel you, my love. Indeed, I am quite desperate for you now.”

His rough gasp sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. She yearned to rouse in him the passion he stirred in her, even if she didn’t know how. Lack of experience mattered little. She would find her way somehow.

She stripped off the ribbon in back and let his silky, blond hair swirl over her arms. With sensuous abandon, she ran her hands up and over his head, cupping it, pulling him toward her. Her mouth met his, teased it open, then instead of sliding her tongue home, she traced the outline of his lips with studied slowness. She came to rest at the center of the bottom one. A moment’s pause to torment him. Then she drew his lip into her mouth, tugged on the tender flesh with her teeth.

Amiable clasped her in sinewy arms and swept her down off the step. Without a word, he laid her on the bed and removed his coat, waistcoat, cravat. The fascinating display caught her in its spell. Blood pounded in her veins. The more he removed, the deeper she shook.

He pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest with a dusting of light blond hair. His shoulders seemed to have grown since he doffed his clothes. Perhaps all of him had. Her mind raced toward the ultimate part of him to be revealed. With the rest of him this magnificent, what must
that
look like?

His boots dropped to the floor. He raised an eyebrow. She lifted her chin. He grinned and skinned off his stockings, his calves taut and bulging with muscles. She swallowed and glanced upward to his waist. He rested his hand on his fall. One twitch and his breeches and drawers slid to the floor.

Her position on the bed put her at hip level so his growing manhood filled her field of vision. She couldn’t look away as he swelled before her eyes. Her body flushed and the air in the room seemed to disappear. A shiver of fear shot through her. Dear Lord, what was she doing? She crossed her legs and slid her arm across her breasts.

Amiable crossed to the bed and reached for the silk coverlet. “Help me pull the covers back, love. They will only be in our way.”

His words broke the spell. Once again, he was just Amiable, the man she loved, not some stranger she didn’t know. She scooted toward the headboard and he turned the cover back with military precision. She slipped beneath the cool sheets and he joined her there, his long body stretched far past hers. He’d never seemed this tall standing. His body heat caressed her, carrying a subtle scent of his shaving soap mingled with a darker musk. The smell of Amiable. He lay on his side, his head propped on his hand, gazing at her. A smug look of contentment lit his face.