He was giving her that look again.
Thatlovinglook.
“Was she that much better than me?” She’d not meant to ask. She’d wanted to forget about the incident at the inn.
Marcus tilted his head to one side, confusion plainly written on his face. “Who, love?”
That word again!
Emily tore her gaze away from him and played with the fabric of her night rail. “Meggie.”
“No one is better than you, Emily.” His voice sounded gravelly, choked with emotion almost. “Meggie was an illusion. She became a reason to hate my father. A reason to avoid my responsibilities.”
Emily lifted her gaze, afraid of what she might see. Afraid of what she might not see. Dare she hope?
“I know I’m good enough.” She smiled tremulously. “And I’ll do fine on my own… eventually. After you leave.”
“You’ve always been good enough.” His hands steadied her face so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “I never knew. All those times I sought you out. For entertainment, I told myself.” Derision flickered on his mouth. “You were there. Touching something inside of me. Reaching for me.
“If you only knew the relief I felt to wake up in that carriage heading for Gretna Green with you rather than Miss Mossant. It was as though I could breathe again. Knowing I’d be tied to you forever. Married to you. And nobody else.”
What was he saying? Emily reached up to cradle his cheek and jaw in her good hand. “You don’t hate that I’m not beautiful and refined? I thought for certain you’d regret it as time passed. That you still might.”
“God, Emily. Never say you aren’t beautiful, and I thank God that you are not refined! I’d die of boredom. You know me. I need someone special.” He pulled away and ran one hand through his hair. “I’m making a hash of this, aren’t I?”
“I love you, Marcus.” There. She’d said it. “I know I’m not supposed to—”
His lips cut her apology off most effectively.
Marcus broke away before kissing her again. “I love you.” His lips devoured her chin, her neck. “I love everything about you.” He bit down on her earlobe. “Nobody could be more perfect.” His lips found her eyes now. His hands began roving along her sides, beneath her breasts, her hips. “So blasted perfect, Emily.”
“Maybe good enough, then?” Emily tilted her head back as Marcus lifted the hem of her gown.
“Not good enough.” He placed a finger over her mouth. “Perfect. So blasted perfect.”
“You love me.” She whispered the words in awe as Marcus pulled the gown over her head. “So, we’re really going to be married people?” She had to ask. She did not want to mistake what he was saying to her.
Her hips bolted upward when Marcus buried his face there and then growled. “I love you.” His breath burned hot, his lips swirled along her seam. “Better than married people, love.” And his hands. Good lord, what was he doing with his hands?
She squealed a little and gasped. “Marcus!”
“I’m right here, love.”
And then she panted. Oh, that.
Amazing!
“Don’t stop!” she ordered when he slowed his motions. Her fingers grasped the springy softness of his hair in an attempt to hold him in place. “Don’t stop!”
Panting. Gasping.
It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see her surroundings right then. White bursts of light exploded behind her eyes as ripples of near painful pleasure swept through her.
He loved her!
He loves me!
“Oh, Marcus!” Her head rolled back, and she allowed the little death to sweep through her body.
