Marcus’ eyes turned serious for all of a second. “Don’t make this into more than it is, Emily. If you remember correctly, I’m already blacklisted. It’s not as though a pile of invitations awaits us.” He stared out the window again. “I’ve an estate near Southampton where you can live. If you’d prefer to be closer to your parents, I can purchase something elsewhere for you.”
Emily swallowed hard at the thought. Not wherewecan live. He didn’t include himself at all because he didn’t intend to reside there.
Maybe they’d skip London altogether. A significant possibility, in fact, if he were to discover his father wasn’t the blackguard he’d come to believe him to be.
She knew so little about this man with whom she’d tied herself until death they do part… technically anyhow, even if they hadn’t taken the actual vow.
Marcus smiled, that charming smile she’d seen on his face so many times. The one that hid everything about who he really was. Why hadn’t she realized this about him before? She’d considered herself in love with him for nearly a year, but she’d known absolutely nothing about him. He’d always been pleasant to debate with. And despite some occasional teasing, he’d shown her respect and kindness. But she knew so little about what went on in the man’s mind. What concerns were in his heart?
She’d only a glimpse of them yesterday.
And that night in the Crabtrees’ Library.
“We’ll first go to Eden’s Court. Return Prescott’s coach, make our apologies for leaving the house party so abruptly. Then we’ll go through London. I’ll buy you something gorgeous to wear and we’ll make an appearance at the theatre… make it known that we’ve married so my father gets wind of it… And then…”
“Yes?”
“And then, we’ll travel to my estate near Southampton. It’s not far from the ducal estate, nor Nottingham’s either, for that matter. You can visit with your friends as often as you like. I’ve not spent a great deal of time there, but it will make a nice home for you.” He patted her leg. “I’ll give you a nice allowance to decorate.”
She didn’t like the direction this discussion was going. She scowled.
Without looking at her, Marcus reached his other hand up and covered her mouth. “You’re thinking too hard.”
She wanted to resent his audacity, but he did it so playfully, that she couldn’t help but let the matter rest. So instead, she opened her mouth and drew her tongue across his palm.
Now that she knew what his hands could do, what their mouths could do, her body came alive at the slightest baiting from him. Just the salty taste of his skin, the feel of his strength behind her body, had her thighs aching again. She’d heard ladies could be sore on the day after, but all she felt was a swollen and tingling awareness of her own feminine needs.
Emboldened by the time they’d spent together, she lifted her skirt, turned and straddled this man who was her husband… for now anyhow…
Marcus settled back on the seat and pretended a helplessness they both knew to be false. “I’m shocked at you, Miss Goodnight. Do you plan on taking advantage of me?”
Emily ignored the fact that he’d still referred to her by her maiden name and wiggled her bum around on his lap. Ah, yes. She would take advantage of this man. She easily felt his arousal beneath her.
His hands crept up her thighs and when she lifted herself up, he unfastened his falls deftly.
Even though they’d yet to try this particular position, it felt like the most natural thing in the world when she lowered herself onto him. It never took her long to be prepared for him. Merely thinking about him readied her body for his invasion.
She couldn’t help but compare the first moment with that of taking that first bite of her favorite pastry. “Umm,” she hummed as she lowered herself farther. He filled her so perfectly.
Marcus took hold of her hips and steadied her. Yes, she felt a little sore, but she’d come to the realization that pain carried within itself a pleasure all its own. Making love was like life itself. Pleasure, vulnerability, giving and taking…
The carriage hit a rut and bounced, causing him to impale her further. Ripples of sensations raced through her core. Nothing, no book, no piece of art, no statue or monument had prepared her for the rapture she felt when Marcus and she shared their bodies with one another. And it seemed to be getting better each time. Familiarity with one another brought, not contempt, but a boldness. It seemed to erase former inhibitions.
Last night, she’d taken hismentulainto her mouth. She’d touched the contours of muscles in his stomach. She’d run her fingers through the tuft of hair that led to his shaft and bollocks.
He had so many places she wanted to explore. And she wanted to explore them with her fingers, her eyes, her mouth, her…
Another rut and Marcus clutched her tighter. By now, Marcus was setting the pace. Lifting her, raising and lowering his hips. His mouth had pulled her dress down. Again, with the perfection. It was the only word she could come up with when her body sang this melody.
She pulled back and watched his face. Toward the end, he usually closed his eyes. And she realized she usually closed her own. But she wanted to watch him this time, in the light of day, and she still had her spectacles on.
He’d thrown his head back. His lips parted slightly, and corded muscles strained beneath the bronzed skin of his neck. She knew the look of pain would come but she watched for something else. Something more.
As though sensing her intent gaze, he opened his eyes.
And then everything changed.
With heavy lids, he stared back. His motions slowed but became deeper. Hands clutching her behind, he ground himself higher into her. Her breath hitched, and her own lids felt heavier. Still, she didn’t allow her gaze to falter. Could he tell her things with his eyes that he couldn’t say out loud?
