Marcus nodded. He knew that Beveridge recorded everything but had never seen his journals. He imagined that they covered all the events leading to their arrival at Valebridge, efficiently and thoroughly.
“I suppose my father catching up with me was my punishment. The errand was to deliver a letter to Sawthorne inviting my father to the wedding. It was the only thing I could think of that Mr. Beveridge would not delegate to another servant.”
Marcus laughed softly. “Very devious. You will be a real asset as Duchess…”
It had been a throwaway comment but he froze as soon as it left his lips. He was assuming that she still wanted to marry him.
I can’t expect that. I can’t assume it. I lied to her, my proposal was based on that lie.
Selina shifted, lifting her head and he found himself looking down into her brilliant blue eyes. For a moment, they gazed at each other. Then he felt her fingers stroke the line of the scar on his jaw, and her lips pressed against his.
CHAPTER24
The kiss was heavenly because it was a true kiss. She knew that she was not kissing Arthur Roy. She did not know the man that she was kissing, and at the same time, she did. His lips were firm, hard even. The embrace that went around her body was strong, unbreakable. His hands went through her hair and she shuddered with pent-up desire at the touch. She ran her fingers along the line of his jaw, a jaw of stone. She caressed his angular cheek, feeling the planes of his face which felt hard even while the skin itself was soft. Marcus touched the back of her neck, holding her against his lips, refusing to grant her the freedom to pull away if she so chose. Not that she would choose. Pulses of pleasure were thrilling through her and she did not want to lose those sensations.
In fact, she wanted them to deepen, become more intense. The thought flashed through her mind that they were not married, that according to the rules of society, their passion was immoral until they were married. She did not care. Her body craved his. She wanted to be possessed by him, wanted to possess him in turn. She moaned softly as his fingers found her throat, caressing her there with teasing strokes. She wanted to hear that moan from him. A few spots of rain dotted her cheek, forcing her away from him. She looked up in irritation, seeing the clouds that had gathered over their vale, sealing it in with a leaden roof. More raindrops were falling, increasing in number and tempo. Marcus took her hand, getting to his feet.
“Come on, there’s still part of a roof to give some shelter.”
He led her inside the ramshackle stone cottage. Where the roof had gone, a tree filled the space, gnarled branches spreading in all directions but reaching for the daylight above all. One half of the roof had survived and Marcus led her beneath that. He took off his coat, folding it to make a cushion for her. They sat, she on his coat and he on the hard ground, their backs to the wall as the rain began to drum on the roof above. Selina shivered and Marcus put his arm around her once more, rubbing at her body as though to stimulate warmth. She kissed his cheek, then burrowed her lips beneath his jaw to kiss his neck. She bit gently, something she had always wanted to do but which Arthur had disliked. Marcus lifted his head, exposing more of his throat for her and Selina’s breath wavered at the surge of pleasure this brought to her.
When Marcus whispered her name, as she kissed, licked, and bit his neck, she squeezed her legs together. Her toes curled in her shoes and a torrent of sensation washed through her, driven by the excitement of hearing her own name pronounced by Marcus in such a way. It sounded like the utterance of a man dying of thirst on the edge of a clear, pure pool. It was a tone of desperate yearning. She ran her hand across his chest, marveling at the feel of iron-hard muscles. From his pectorals to his stomach, his muscles quivered at her touch but somehow remained as unyielding as rock. She caressed lower, feeling the ridges of his abdomen before spreading her fingers wide against his stomach, as though trying to encompass all of him. To possess all of him.
Marcus seized her face with both hands, his kisses becoming inflamed with passion. He was hungry for her, an unquenchable hunger. The more he took of her, the more he seemed to want and need. One hand grasped for her bosom, cupping a breast and squeezing. His grip was hard enough to hurt, especially when he found the area of her nipple, tweaking the tender spot through the material of her clothes and producing a squeal of delight. Selina wore a square cut neckline, which exposed an expanse of skin to Marcus’ attention but remained two inches above the flowering curve of her bosoms. Marcus’s head dropped and she moaned aloud at the feel of his hot, hungry mouth against her skin. It went lower, tongue and lips working against her bare skin to make her shiver and squirm.
Then he took a firm hold of the neckline and pulled down. A seam popped at the pressure. A button at her back pinged against the wall. Then another. She did not care. He could tear her clothing to shreds for all she cared. The dress itself was one for which the skirt had been essentially removed, to make way for the breeches that enabled her to ride more comfortably. It ended at her waist, the clumsy termination of the garment screened by a coat that fell to her hips. That coat now hung at her elbows and the top of the dress had been yanked down to expose the upper curve of her breasts. Selina fell back against the wall, hands falling to her sides and head lifting, feeling a few rogue spots of rain against her face.
The heat within her was the explosive fire of a volcano, building up, wanting to break free. Marcus kissed his way down her left breast, pulling impatiently at the material to expose more of it, biting and licking. Selina helped him, lifting the breast free of its covering of fabric. When she felt the cold air, and then another random spot of rain on her nipple, she gave a squeal. Then the warmth of Marcus’ mouth enclosed it. He sucked, drawing it into a hard point before relaxing the pressure, caressing it back and forth with his tongue. Selina squirmed, wanting to be open to him, to be exposed. The dress and breeches felt a terrible imposition. She wanted to be bare, to feel his eyes on her naked body like a touch. His hot, lusting gaze upon her naked body would be almost as exciting as the feel of his hands, or the merging of his body with hers.
Marcus moved in front of her, kneeling astride her legs. He tore at the laces of his shirt, then tugged it free of his breeches over his head. He threw it from him before descending upon her once more. Her arms went about him and the feel of such masculine strength made her lift her hips toward him. Marcus responded by slipping a hand beneath her, caressing her buttocks. With his other hand, he thrust suddenly between her legs, forcing them to part for him. Then he ran his fingers, stiff and together, in a downward motion across her womanhood. Selina cried out, grabbing his hand. Whether to stop the intrusion or encourage it, she had lost all reason to tell. The motion began again, inward and down. Each time her heels drummed on the ground and she clutched and scratched at him.
Her dress was torn asunder, the material parting down the front under pressure from strong hands. Those hands were Selina’s. The garment, weakened by Marcus, gave way before her frantic pulling. Coat and torn cloth were stripped from her upper body, then by Marcus, and thrown over his shoulder. His hair flowed about his harsh, angular but beautiful face. He grinned boyishly as he threw her clothes away and Selina giggled impulsively.
His forehead touched hers and her hands found their way to the bulge in his breeches. His eyes were tightly closed and his breath shuddered. Selina felt his body respond and her desire rose to a peak that demanded release. Her love-making with Arthur had never gone so far, not progressed beyond gentle touching and kissing.
Marcus opened his eyes, meeting Selina’s. Both worked with their hands, wanting to bring the other to the peak of pleasure. Both knew that would be the end of the adventure for now but that they would have saved themselves for their marriage in just a few days. Selina bit her lip, squeezing Marcus. She nodded, answering the unspoken question that had passed between them. She did not want to wait. Marcus fumbled with her breeches, laughing.
“I am not familiar with undressing a man,” he chuckled, “other than myself.”
“It is not familiar to me either,” Selina admitted.
Then her breeches were open and Marcus was pulling at them. She felt the air and the rain on her thighs, her legs and her most intimate area, as the breeches slipped past her ankles, shoes torn off and discarded. She sat up to undo Marcus’ breeches but he halted her progress.
“No, not yet. You’re mine now. Let me pleasure you,” he whispered in a raspy breath.
He looped his arms from under her knees and parted her legs wider as Selina’s eyes fluttered shut. He controlled her body so effortlessly with his strength as if she were as light as a feather, and each manner in which he contorted her limbs for his needs only surged within her a deep desire that began pooling between her thighs.
Then, he kissed at her navel. Another smattering of cold raindrops landed just above his kisses, setting off implosions of heat beneath her skin, as they trickled down to her womanhood. Her face grew flushed, as she realized the wetness between her legs was not purely from the rain.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly conscious of her state.
His carnal gaze rose to match her, before he replied, “no, you’re perfection.” In one smooth swoop, he pulled at her hips, drawing her away from the wall to lay flat. He kneeled above her so that she was face-to-face with him. “Selina, I’ve wanted to pleasure you as much ever since I first set my eyes on you. And I will, but I first need to hear you say it. Say what you want from me.”
Selina felt her entire body grow scarlet, but she could not tear away from that intoxicating stare. A breath passed between them. Then two. She placed her hands on either side of his cheeks before whispering, “I want you to take me. To ravish me, to make me yours.Onlyyours.”
She was met with a wolfish grin. Before another breath, he grasped both of her tiny wrists in his large hand and tucked them above her head. His face dipped below her navel, and the coolness of his lips pressed against her womanhood. And just as suddenly, her legs began squirming at the intense pleasure that soared before her eyes, like scintillating fireworks on a stormy night. He began to suck and nip at her folds, and her spine arched in ways unbecoming of a lady.
“Marcus, what are you…” was all she could utter.
