How to Marry a Highlander (13 page)

Then abruptly it seemed the most obvious thing in the world.

Her heartbeats lurched into a gallop.

“Five,” she could only say.

He took her hand and with an inscrutable look started up the stairs. Amidst the clamor of nerves and delirious stupefaction Teresa considered telling him about the decision she had come to earlier. But she could not. She had dreamed of this—so many dreams she could not count them. Nothing could stop her now.

The door before which he halted was not in the same part of the hotel as his sisters’ bedchambers. He looked down at her, a question in his gorgeous eyes.

“I’m certain,” she said.

He opened the door and she stepped inside.

Sumptuous beauty was spread before her. Carpeted with cloths of rich colors, layered with giant silk cushions, and strewn with fresh pink rose petals, it looked like some sort of harem chamber. She was speechless. She had not marked him as a romantic or a seducer. But this had taken time to prepare.

“I didn’t think—that is, I didn’t imagine—” she stuttered. “You knew I would summon up a fifth husband?”

“Managing female,” Duncan murmured, masking his satisfaction.

She turned her face up and her eyes shone with a wondering, wary light. “If you think I am so managing I wonder that you have not asked why I haven’t found a willing husband for myself in all these weeks.”

“Do ye?”

“Why haven’t you?”

Because he was a daft fool. Because he was running as fast as he could yet losing ground. Because he needed to have her beneath him and if she belonged to another man that would never happen. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

He touched her cheek then slid his fingers into her silken hair. He brushed a kiss across her lips, then traced the seam with his tongue, tasting her. “A wager’s a wager.” She tasted of buttery sugar and she was soft everywhere—the dip beneath her ear, the contour of her throat, the curve of her neck to her shoulder. Her intoxicating lips.

She clutched him with slender hands. “You trusted that I would not renege on my part of the wager? This part?”

“Ye wanted me. No th’other way around.”
Not the truth
. He had wanted her since the moment he’d seen her. He’d tried to escape to Scotland to save himself, but she hadn’t allowed that.

“I did,” she whispered, stretching to allow him the flavor of her neck. “I do.
Oh
.” Her hands convulsed on his shoulders. “Duncan, make love to me now before I lose my courage.”

“Ye’ve more courage than any leddy I’ve ever kent, Teresa Finch-Freeworth.”

“Let’s not test that theory now, though. All right?”

He laughed and took her waist in his hands.

“Will you undress me?” Her voice quavered but her gaze was direct. “I understand that’s preferable.”

He smiled. “Aye, ’tis preferable.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“No. I’m thinking hou I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Undress me. Please. Now. I don’t think I can bear to wait another minute.”

Garment by garment, slowly he revealed the body he’d been lusting over—forever, it seemed. She stood perfectly still, a rosy glow high on her cheeks and her breathing fast, and did not shy away when he finally drew the chemise over her head and discarded it.

“Yer beautiful.”

Her lashes lifted. “You are still dressed.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Remove your clothes too.” She caught her plump lower lip between her teeth. “Please.”

“Yer wager didna specify that.”

Her eyes popped wide. “But, I—Oh. You are teasing now.” Her grin was so sweet he had to taste it. She responded to his kiss with her entire naked body, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lush curves to him. He filled his hands with her soft behind and made her feel his desire. She moaned. His cock jerked. He pulled her tight to him. She rocked her sex into him and slid her tongue into his mouth, and he knew that if he didn’t remove her from him
now
, in a moment he’d be taking her against the bedpost still fully dressed.

That was no way for a lady to lose her innocence.
His
lady.

He peeled her off him and had to force his attention up from her spectacular breasts. The aureoles were large and dusky pink and tight with her arousal.

“Lie down,” he said roughly, grabbing at one of his boots.

She pivoted to look about the chamber, her breasts swaying. “Anywhere?”

He tore at his cravat. “Anywhere.”

She disposed herself on her stomach on a pile of pillows on the floor. She sank into the cushions and cast a delighted grin over her shoulder.

He couldn’t unbutton his waistcoat fast enough.

She scooped a handful of rose petals and scattered them. “This is positively decadent,” she purred.

“Ye’ve got perfect hips.” He dragged his shirt over his head. “Wide. Strong. Beautiful.”

“I cannot believe you are looking at my bared behind and telling me I have wide hips. I may die of shame.”

“Ye’ve no shame to speak o’.”

“It’s true. I’ve never seen any use for it. But perhaps I should have.”

He knelt and curved a palm over her buttock. She was soft. So soft. He dipped his thumb between her thighs. “I like ye shameless.”

“Oh—
oh
.”

“Spread yer knees, luve.”

She did as commanded and he drew her back against him.

Her breaths came brokenly. “What are you doing?”

“What I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw ye.” With his hands he guided her, stroking her against his erection until she released a long sigh. Then he nestled his cock between her buttocks.

He closed his eyes and struggled for breath.

She had stiffened. He ran his palms over her hips then her slender waist and cradled her magnificent breasts in his hands. Her breathing deepened. Giving her what they both wanted, finally Duncan released the past.

T
eresa had heard that some women with large breasts could not feel acute sensation in them. She discovered now that she was most definitely not one of those women. Duncan teased her nipples into taut peaks and she felt it in her toes and lips and everywhere in between.

“Does this please ye?”

“
Yes
.” She moaned and trembled and pushed back against him. She wanted something else. Something more. She ached for it.

“Beautiful woman.” He thrust against her, and again, and the rhythm of her hips swaying forward grew heavy inside her, hot and damp. She went onto her elbows, wanting and wanting, rocking and hearing his sounds of pleasure that made her wild.

“Please,” she whispered. “
Please
.”

His hand delved between her thighs.

Pleasure
. Ecstasy. His touch was perfect. She threw her head back and moaned. “Oh, Duncan.” Her body was tightening, coiling, burning with pleasure. It had never felt like this with her own hand, never—ever—

Pleasure seized her, cascading upon a series of choking moans. He turned her onto her back deep in the cushions, spread her knees, and put his hard, hot cockhead at her entrance. Then he took her virginity.

He was gentle at first, and then not so gentle because she wanted it. He was everything she had fantasized. He gave and gave, and when a droplet of sweat trickled down his chest she reached between them and gave back to him.

He groaned and thrust harder. Then harder yet. He used her deeply, completely and she clutched the cushions and convulsed again with astonished whimpers. His release was sudden and fierce.

She twined her arms around his shoulders. Still inside her, he kissed her with great tenderness, his hand stealing over her waist and stroking the swell of her hip.

Finally he rolled onto his back.

With a great sigh of satisfaction, she threw out her arms to either side. “That was very . . .
nice
.”

He chuckled. “Nice, hm?”

She grinned like a cat at the cream pot—a sleepy cat lying in the sun after lapping up the entire contents of the cream pot. Her eyelids drooped.

W
hen she awoke it was dusk and Duncan was not in the bedchamber. She had not expected him to be.

She dressed, arranged her hair, and went home.

A
t ten o’clock the following morning she was at the writing desk in Diantha’s parlor, putting the final touches on her latest story, when Una and Tobias entered. They wasted no time in telling her their news. But she knew it before they spoke; their faces showed their joy.

“I am beside myself with happiness.” She embraced Una. “It has been my dearest wish for weeks, though I didn’t know if you had the courage to admit it, brother.”

“Courage wasn’t so much the problem.”

“He thought that because he didna have a title, I was too far above him.” Una’s eyes crinkled. “But I set him straight.”

“After your brother did.” He took her hand.

“When did you ask for his approval, Toby?” Teresa tried to sound casual, as though she hadn’t been wondering every second what Duncan had been doing since the moment he left her napping in his harem room.

“An hour ago,” Tobias said. “He’d given it to me days ago, though. Seems he knew.”

He knew
. As he undoubtedly knew she loved him.

W
hen they departed she went to her room, instructed Annie to pack her luggage, and asked the footman to inquire at the nearest posting house as to the next mail coach leaving for Manchester. She changed into her second prettiest gown—second to the gown the Earl of Eads had removed from her the day before—and walked to the hotel.

Duncan stood in the foyer with a dark, dashingly handsome man with brilliant blue eyes and an air of purpose about him.

Forcing confidence in her step, she went toward them. “My lord, I should like to speak with you.”

“First allou me to make ye acquainted wi’ Mr. Derek Knightly, editor o’
The London Weekly
. Knightly, this is Miss Finch-Freeworth.”

“
The London Weekly
? That wonderful paper with all the splendid stories?”

“The very one,” Mr. Knightly said with a quick grin. He bowed. “It’s a pleasure to finally make the acquaintance of the author of quite a few splendid stories herself.”

She frowned. “Me?”

“If the pages Lord Eads gave me to read are by your hand,” he said with a questioning glance at the earl.

“Aye, they are.” His attention was steady upon her.

“You took my stories and gave them to a newspaper editor? Without my permission?”

“I’m glad he did,” Knightly said. “Your prose is genius, Miss Finch-Freeworth. Innocent panache crossed with worldly wisdom. I think the readers of
The Weekly
will love it. So I’d like to give you a regular column called ‘Harpers Crest Cove Days.’ How do you like it?”

“A column in
The
London Weekly
?” she uttered dumbly.

“For payment, of course. As I understand you don’t live in London, I’ll be glad to receive your pieces via the post.”

Here was her future—not what she had dreaded, nor what she had dreamed, but a fine future indeed.

“I accept, Mr. Knightly.”

He smiled. “Excellent. If you’ll visit me at the office tomorrow we can discuss details, including your compensation, and then I’ll have my man of business see to the details.”

She nodded.

“Thank you, Eads,” Mr. Knightly said. They shook hands. “Until tomorrow, then, Miss Finch-Freeworth.” He bowed and strode out.

She met the earl’s regard. “Thank you, my lord. I should be ringing a peal over your head for taking this liberty.” Her cheeks warmed. The day before he had taken much greater liberties with her after all. “But I am grateful.”

“Guid.”

“Now I should like to speak with you in private.” She went into the empty parlor, drew in a deep breath, and turned to face him. “Though four days remain on our wager, I am hereby canceling it.”

His brows bent. She wanted to surround his gorgeously square jaw with her hands, go onto her tiptoes, and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.

“Are ye?”

“I am.”

Sorcha had always been honest with him, and Teresa now saw the value in telling the truth. If she’d been honest with herself she would have known that forcing a man to wed her without having his love would not give her what she wanted. She wanted love. She wanted to be swept off her feet, not to do the sweeping. She wanted a friend and lover and she thought he could be that, but not if he could not give her his heart.

Still, he didn’t really need to know all of that. “I don’t wish to marry you any longer. You’ve made me work far too hard and you are far too much trouble and I deserve better than that. But even if that weren’t the case, I haven’t fulfilled my part of the wager. Your sisters would have found their beaux even if I had not intervened. Except of course for Mr. Waldon. And my brother, who is infinitely happy now, so at least some good has come out of my meddling.”

Sharp misery was growing in her chest. She continued before he could respond.

“Thank you for what you did for me with the newspaper.” She screwed up every mote of the courage he said he admired. “And thank you for yesterday. I had a wonderful time and I hope you did too.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Aye, I did.”

She didn’t know where to set her gaze. Looking into his eyes was too painful. She went to the door. “Would you tell your sisters that I dropped by?” She would miss them dreadfully. But she would see Una now and then, and that would be a consolation.

“Teresa—”

“I have made my decision.” She paused in the doorframe, her head down. “Goodbye, my lord.”

He did not come after her. Nor did he call on her that evening. All along he’d wanted her to go away and she’d finally given him his wish.

The next day after Teresa visited Mr. Knightly at
The London Weekly
’s office, Diantha insisted she take their traveling carriage home to Brennon Manor. Teresa accepted. It was more comfortable to be in the company of only one’s maid when tears occasionally escaped one’s eyes.