The Training of a Marquess (18 page)

“I think it’s time to send my wee knights to bed.” He tugged at the front of his coat in an effort to hide his erection. “Go see what Bensey is drawing, and I’ll retrieve our champagne.”

He needed a moment to regain his control. Bless Smithfield, he had left the champagne bottle out. Chase filled a glass and downed it, then refilled two glasses. Behind him, Claire exclaimed over Bensey’s drawing and then he heard her promise Harry she would dance with him the next time they had a party.

“Would you like me to get the boys to bed?” Mr. Edwards asked from beside him.

God, yes.
“Please.” Claire gave the boys a good night kiss on their foreheads. His sons approached him and he knelt, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Did you enjoy tonight?”

“Oh yes, ever so much” they said in unison.

Chase marveled at how often the twins said the same thing at the exact same moment. “Good. I’m positive we made Lady Claire happy tonight, but it’s time you were in bed.” He gave each a kiss on the cheek and told them he loved them.

Mr. Edwards led them away and he turned to Claire. She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of her, her features soft in the candlelight. Her lips curved in a shy smile.

Picking up the glasses of champagne, he prowled toward her. He promised himself he wouldn’t bed her tonight, but he was about to come damn close. As long as he kept his breeches on, she would be safe. There would be no regrets between them if his courtship didn’t go as he hoped.

At the point the tips of his shoes disappeared under the hem of her gown, he stopped and handed her a glass of champagne. He clicked his glass to hers. “To a beautiful woman. Thank you, Claire, for your care of my sons.” Why the wistful smile?

“How could I not? They are lovely boys.”

Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa, sat next to her and angled his body toward her. He placed his arm along the back and his fingers found a strand of silky hair.

“I like to think Andrew would have grown to be as interesting as the twins.”

The reason for her melancholy smile? Talking about her son wasn’t how he expected the evening to go, but she had never talked about him before. Perhaps she needed to.

“Did he look like you?”

She gave a little humorless laugh. “He had my eyes, but otherwise, he was the very image of Thomas. I’m so afraid one day I’ll forget what he looked like.”

Chase took the champagne out of her hands and set both glasses on the table, noticing the picture Bensey had drawn of the two of them waltzing. Her face was alight with joy and his expression—well, he looked as if he were about to devour her. His son saw too much.

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. “Tell me about Andrew.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she buried her face in his chest. “There isn’t much to tell. I only had him for two wonderful weeks and then he was gone. He had a fever and Thomas wouldn’t let me comfort him.”

She stopped talking and he waited for her to continue. He rested his chin on her head. When she remained quiet, he asked, “Was Thomas afraid you would become sick?”

She made a guttural sound. “If that was the reason, I might be able to forgive him. No, I was only allowed one hour a day with Andrew. Thomas feared if I spent more time with him, I would turn his heir into a Mama’s boy. Two weeks—one hour a day. Fourteen hours to remember my son by.”

“My God, Claire.” He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. What a damn fool Derebourne had been.

“Now you see why I’m afraid I’ll forget. My memories of him are so few and precious, and even now, it’s hard to picture my baby’s face. I used to sneak into his nursery in the early morning hours and watch him sleep.

“I didn’t dare pick him up. If he woke up and cried, his nurse would have reported me to Thomas. I would put my finger on his hand and his tiny fingers would wrap around mine and hold tight. I would imagine he knew it was me…that it made him feel protected to know I was there. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t keep him safe.”

The tears she had been holding back came and she sobbed into his chest. His eyes burned and he squeezed them shut. He’d lost his child, too, and didn’t know which was worse—to never have held him or to have been given two short weeks to love him. There was nothing he could say to make it better, so he just held her while she cried.

She quieted and he tilted his head. Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she had fallen asleep. But no, she slid her hand up to his neck. “Kiss me, Chase. Make me feel. Please.”

He understood and couldn’t have refused her if his life depended on it. The kiss began as an offer of comfort, soft and gentle. She wasn’t having it and need slammed through him when she slipped her hand under his waistcoat.

He just had to remember to keep his breeches on.

Chapter Fourteen

Claire needed his touch, needed to know she wasn’t only a figment of her imagination. She existed, she lived and breathed. The worst thing possible had happened to her, and somehow she’d survived. Now, life just might offer her a chance at happiness after all.

His lips brushed over hers, warm and teasing. Pulling his shirt out of his breeches, she slid her hand under the crisp linen. His belly was hard and hot and she wanted her hands everywhere at once. Wanted to memorize his planes and angles so she could say to herself, I know him. Trailing her fingers up his side, she counted each rib, felt the indentation between the bones. She moved her hand to his chest to feel the beat of his heart against her palm.

His mouth teased hers with feathery kisses and little nips. He appeared to be in no hurry, didn’t seem to have the same aching need as she. She wanted his breath harsh and hot on her skin, to know he desired her as much as she did him.

She wanted…she didn’t know what. This need inside her was new and unexplored, but he could show her. There had to be more than a quick lift of her gown accompanied by a few grunts on the man’s part, leaving her messy and sometimes sore.

She skimmed her fingers over a nipple and suppressed a satisfied smile when he hissed against her lips. In an instant, his kiss turned demanding and his tongue invaded her mouth.

Yes, this is what she wanted. She’d never dreamed a man’s tongue—his tongue—in her mouth could build a fire in the deepest parts of her, could make her tremble with want. He moved a hand to the side of her face, the other finding its way to the curve of a breast.

Tonight, she’d purposely not worn a corset, thus the only barrier between his palm and her skin was her silk gown and chemise. Thin as it was, it was too much. She wanted skin to skin. His erection pressed against her bottom and every single inch of her body throbbed with want.

This had never happened before.

Because of Thomas, she had believed having a man inside her was a thing to be endured. The duty of a wife to her husband. When Thomas had come to her bed, her mind turned to the next day’s training session, planning which horse she would work with. After Andrew was born, she had gratefully been relieved of her wifely duties.

When they thought her asleep, she overheard the doctor tell Thomas that it would be three months before she could have marital relations again. Immensely pleased by that information, she had fallen into a restful sleep. She now understood it had only required this man to see how foolishly naïve she had been.

The hand cradling her face moved to the buttons on the back of her gown. When he had them undone, he slid the gown and chemise off her shoulder. Freeing a breast, he cupped it in his hand. When he flicked his thumb over her nipple, the pleasure was so intense she gave a startled jolt.

“Easy,” he said with a soft chuckle. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a newborn kitten and turned her so she straddled him. “Ah, perfect.” His lips found the tip of her breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth while his hand skimmed over her back in a lover’s caress.

Oh, God. Oh, God.
There must be strings attached to her breast and running through her body. With his mouth, he pulled on the strings sending tremulous vibrations on a journey through her bloodstream. How ignorant she had been believing this should be done shamefully in the dark.

She was an adventuress exploring exotic new lands. Closing her eyes, she let him take her to a new world of sensual bliss.

With his mouth still latched to her breast, he tugged the other sleeve off her shoulder, and she slipped her arms out of her gown. She almost cried out in protest when he pulled away. But no, his mouth moved to her other breast, and all was well.

“Don’t want it to feel neglected,” he murmured.

Claire gave a breathless little laugh. “No, we can’t have that.”

Apparently, there were strings attached to this one, too. The ache in her private place intensified to an unbearable need and she rubbed against his erection. The friction of his trousers, the feel of his hardness scraped against her. A pressure built inside until she burned as hot as molten lava. Moaning, she pressed her face into his neck and rubbed harder against him.

“Claire.” He let go of her breast, pulled her face to his and put his mouth on hers.

Just that. Claire. But it was the way he said it, like hers was a sacred name, one to be whispered in reverence. She wanted to say to him,
I love you
, but he wasn’t ready to hear it so she held the words in her heart.

Oh, dear God
. She was so close to something new and breathtaking. Something wondrous.

Chase squeezed his eyes closed and fought for control. The world as he knew it reeled on its axis. This woman was burrowing her way under his skin whether he wanted her to or not. She was so incredibly responsive and sensual. Christ, the things he could teach her if she belonged to him. He wanted to wrap her heat around him and never let go. A long suppressed yearning to love and be loved by someone special made itself known.

When she rubbed against his erection he knew he could have her, could remove his breeches and sink into her slick wetness. And he wanted to, badly. He slid his hand under her skirt and cradled her bottom. She stilled.

“No, don’t stop,” he rasped against her mouth.

“All right,” she said, and blessedly began to move. He slid a finger into her sheath. She was tight, dripping and hot. What would it feel like to bury himself deep inside her? She wouldn’t stop him.

No regrets
, he reminded himself. He had made many promises in his life and had kept them all. He would keep this one. His breeches would stay buttoned.

Chase sucked her tongue into his mouth as his fingers mimicked the movements his cock ached to make. She moaned long and deep telling him she was close to release. She gasped for air and he pulled away from her mouth, wanting to watch her reach her first ever climax, wanted to see on her face what he had brought her to. Her eyes turned vague and she rubbed herself over his cock, hard and fast.

“Oh, God,” she said and he happily fell off the cliff with her. It was one of the most incredible climaxes he had ever experienced. And he had kept his promise and kept his clothes on. His laugh startled him. Never before had he exploded in his trousers—hadn’t been this green when he was a green boy. She had no idea the affect she had on him. That was probably a good thing.

Still breathing hard, she pushed away from his shoulder, hurt in her eyes. “Why are you laughing?”

He couldn’t tell her the truth. She would never understand. “Why do most people laugh?” he asked instead.

Her expression turned wary. “Because something’s funny?”

“Or because they are happy.” He trailed a finger across her soft lips.

“Oh,” she said and smiled.

Her smile went straight to his gut. It crossed his mind to say to hell with London and claim her here and now. But he had to be sure for his sake and for the twins. She already had the power to hurt him and that scared the hell out of him.

“Does this mean we don’t have to go to London?”

He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him for a last kiss, then gently pushed her away.

“We need to talk. Move over and I’ll refill our glasses.”

The light faded from her eyes. She scooted away and pulled her dress up, covering her beautiful breasts. Wordlessly, she turned her back to him and he buttoned her gown. She sat back on the sofa, putting space between them.

Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen from their kisses and her gown wrinkled. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly ravished. He hadn’t thoroughly ravished her, but bloody hell, he wanted to. He hardened to life at the thought. The devil, he couldn’t be ready to go again so soon. His cock begged to differ.

She watched him like a skittish animal unsure of what was about to happen, and Chase regretted the caution he saw in her eyes. He didn’t want to wound her, he only needed to be sure he wasn’t a passing infatuation. How to explain it to her?

Standing, he picked up their glasses, went to the table and poured more champagne. He was going to have to tell her about Teresa and their marriage. His wife was the last person he wanted to talk about after what he’d just shared with Claire, but it was necessary.

He sighed and returned to the sofa. Handing her the champagne, he wondered how to begin. He walked a fine line by not telling her why he had to go through with his plan. But she needed to understand his motivations without knowing he wanted her for his wife. Shying away from talk of Teresa, he decided to address the issue of London.

“Claire, going to London is something you need to do for yourself. You have lived a sheltered life, too sheltered, and I don’t think you can possibly know your own mind until you have experienced a Season in town.”

Her eyes flashed angry sparks and she opened her mouth to speak. He held up his hand. “Please, allow me to finish and then I’ll listen to everything you have to say.” She nodded, but the anger stayed in her eyes.

“Your father shielded you from life, allowing you no friends and no way to learn about yourself. You went from the overbearing protection of him to a husband when you were more of a child than a woman.