He stepped toward her, reaching for her hands even as she attempted to pull them away. He caught them in his own. He pulled her close, even as she leaned away. If she succumbed, she would cry. She couldfeelit.
“I am, you know,” Richard whispered as he pulled her against his chest, and her eyes lifted to his warily. “Yours.”
The fight left her. She allowed herself to be held, despite knowing that the very next words to leave her lips might very well be the last time that he looked at her with such kindness.
She softened and attempted to speak without crying. “I am with child.”
Time froze.
“…what?” Richard whispered, pulling back only enough to look deeply into her eyes.
She could not breathe.
“I am—”
“Are you certain?” he asked again.
Catherine’s chip dipped into a nod. “I know that it is not what you wished…but I just…”
“What? Where would you get such an insane idea?!” Richard interrupted.
She had nothing to say.
Richard floundered for words, and when he could seem to come up with nothing sufficient—he kissed her. He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her so close to his body that she did not know if she was breathing her own air or his. He cupped the back of her neck and the curve of her spine even as her arms wrapped around his neck.
A tear rolled down her cheek in spite of her best efforts. It was all that she wanted.
Heis what she wanted.
He pulled the pins and decorations from her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders as he moved down the laces and buttons of her dress. The moment his fingertips brushed against her skin, she arched into the contact, a moan of pleasure and encouragement ripped from her throat.
She needed to be closer to him; she needed to feel the heat of his hands everywhere to remind her that she was alive and in one piece. He could not get her undressed quickly enough. She needed more,more.
She pushed at the layers he wore, tugging his coat and waistcoat from his torso and back over his shoulders, awkwardly pinning his arms away from her, but the solution was quickly remedied as her palms met the warm, muscled planes of his stomach. A throaty moan of need wrested from her as her hands pressed up her chest, needing more of his heat on her.
The sound of popping buttons and torn satin filled the space as her gown was ripped from her, dropping over her hips and pooling down near her feet. It was only a moment before Richard lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips, the heels of her feet pushing the fabric down. There was no time for waiting, she needed himnow.
Her back connected with the curved pole of their four-poster bed as he filled her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and it took everything that she had to keep from melting into a molten pool of lust even as he used his pole as leverage to have his way with her, hard and fast and everything that she needed.
She held on to him and relished in the feel of him, every inch, as he thrust up and into her. Her head fell back, and the sounds of her pleasure met with his own as he kissed down the column of her neck and back up to her jawline, coaxing her up again, coaxing her to kiss him.
She was only too happy to oblige him.
Her fingers were claws on his shoulders as his hold on her hips turned bruising, as if he could imprint himself on her, owning any part of her that she was willing to surrender to him and then some. He gave every bit as much as he claimed until her pleasure shattered her from the inside out, echoes and waves of it crashing through her, the friction of their bodies together until he reached the same pinnacle that she did, pulsing inside of her.
As he carried her to the bed after, and softly set her down before he crawled in after her to gather her into his arms—she wondered if perhaps he already knew how deeply she had come to love him.
Yet, even as her lips pleaded with her to speak…she could not say the words out loud.
Chapter 25
Lady Harrington’s Estate
The very last thing that Richard wished to do after the night that he had had, was socialize. Least of all, with all of the same people who the duke found to be so important. They had stopped feeling like his own sort of people a good long while ago.
The party had moved out into the garden not long after breakfast. The warmth of the day could only be considered tepid at best, but the sun was shining, and there was a very pleasant breeze sifting through the trees and rolling out across the grounds. Little by little, the guests seemed content to break off into smaller groups to play games at their leisure.
As he had discussed with Catherine the night before between their bouts of lovemaking, he had shifted his mindset to be rather focused on the duke and the ways that they needed to conduct themselves in order to bring him down. The softer, more subtle social graces would return to him quickly, no doubt, but he understood why she was so wary to participate.
