“I believe I know where she is … at least, I think I saw her. There was a woman who has the same reddish-orange hair as Maggie.” She walked over to stand beside him.
“Where did you see her?” He spoke swiftly, his words nearly blurring together.
“At the orphanage in St. Giles where Beatrice’s sister is employed?—”
“An orphanage in St. Giles? And you’ve been there alone?” He massaged his forehead, becoming agitated.
Chauncey flung paper after paper aside before he looked over to her, demanding she answer him.
“Not alone, I was with Beatrice Lewis,” she tried to interject, but he continued to speak over her.
“Miss Lewis, another unmarried woman, is your only companion in St. Giles. Pippa, I thought you were smarter than that.” He tossed another sheet of paper aside, sitting back in the chair.
“Beatrice’s sister is very well respected and feared in St. Giles. I assure you I am safe.” Pippa sat down at the foot of the bed, exhausted by their conversation.
He stood from the desk, not finding what he was looking for. “Are you certain Maggie was with child when she told you I was the father?”
“Yes, she had a very protruding abdomen and told me the Marquess of Lennox was the father?—”
Folding his arms, he spread his legs wide, looming over her as she sat on the bed. “Lennox? The older I became, the more I hated that damn title and never used it if I could help it.” The agitation in his voice vexed her greatly.
His words made perfect sense to adult Pippa, but at the time, her sixteen-year-old self only knew that everything she believed in was ending.
Her answer was simple. “I know.”
He had never liked being addressed by his father’s lesser title by anyone that really knew him. As a boy, he had introducedhimself as the Marquess of Lennox, but once they became friends, he was always her Chauncey.
Pippa folded her arms over her thin chemise to stay warm. The fire had died out sometime in the middle of the night, turning the room frigid.
“You should’ve written to me or confronted me when I returned, not dismissed me so easily.” His voice was filled with pure venom, his icy stare cold.
“Do not pretend that you have spent the last nine years mourning our friendship or the marriage we would’ve had. I’ve heard stories of your conquests over the years. You were even engaged to my closest friend!” she challenged him, tired of his accusations. Pippa was furious over the past and irritated with her younger self for believing Maggie and his father.
What reason did the woman have to lie to her?
He took several steps closer to her, his large body spreading her legs wider as he fit himself in the alcove of her thighs. “Julia and my engagement meant nothing. Everything I have done over the years was to forget you.” He pushed her back on the bed, caging her in with his arms. The weight of his body threatened to be her undoing. “To rid myself of the fucking heartbreak that I felt every single day without you,” he whispered the last part, capturing her in his heated gaze.
Everything stopped, nothing mattered but him in that moment. He hadn’t betrayed her trust. He had stayed true to her and their promise to each other.
Unable to withstand the distance any longer, she closed the space between them, desperate to be closer. They had lost so many years, and Pippa refused to lose any more time with him.
There was no leaving after a year of marriage. Pipa was aware of that now, as sure as she knew that she craved to have her husband inside of her.
Her lips were greedy as she kissed him, her hands pulling his shirt up to reveal his naked bottom half. Chauncey’s hands pulled eagerly at her chemise, ripping it over her head, his shirt quickly following.
Insistent lips pleasured every part of her sensitive skin as he kissed and teased her breasts. Two thick fingers entered her sex, her body opening to him.
“Are you ready for me, love?” he asked before he licked a circle around a puckered nipple.
Her body burned for him, threatening to combust around his demanding fingers. “Yes.”
Her husband pressed a longing, deep kiss to her lips before he removed his wicked fingers. Pippa blinked several times as he rose, leaving her laying on the bed panting and needy. Sitting up in frustration, her eyes followed him as he retrieved a French letter from his valise.
A slight ease of disappointment ran through her. There was a small part of her that wanted to feel him completely, to know what it was really like to be his in every way imaginable. He slipped the letter on his hard cock. She shook off the feeling, understanding that he was simply honoring her one demand.
Taking her by the hand, he led her off the bed, crushing his lips to hers again. His strong muscled arms lifted her as if she weighed nothing, her legs wrapping around his waist. The overwhelming feeling of being cherished and loved surrounded her heart, binding her to him in a way the ribbon from their wedding night could never do.
The cool wood of the bedpost pressed against her bare back; the shock had her arching into her husband as his mouth slanted over hers in a decadent kiss. He entered her in one swift movement, Pippa’s fingers gripping the nape of his hair as she cried out in bliss.
