A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement) (12 page)

***

Nick stroked down her outer thigh and then back up again, searing a blazing path over the sensitive flesh on her inner thigh. While his hands moved steadily upward, his mouth made its own stealthy descent. He grazed his fingers through her mass of hair. She trembled as a gush of warmth hit her core. He gently parted her quivering thighs. She sounded a protest and clamped her legs together, but the action trapped his hand, increasing both the pressure and the excruciating ache inside her.

"Please, my love," he urged.

"It frightens me, Nick. This thing between us, the way you make me feel."

"I only wish to learn what pleases you. There's nothing to fear."

Although she was still a virgin, her prior experience with him had already proven how dangerous such intimate touching could be. Their mutual moans and panting breaths filled the air as he slid his fingers into the slickened folds of her sex, his clever fingers working, stroking, swirling, creating warm, wickedly wanton waves of pleasure deep inside her. He located the sensitive bud of her clitoris, caressing and stroking in deliberate circles while his other hand gently probed the opening to her body, the place where he would enter her. Her blood roared in her ears as the throbbing tension pulsed frenetically, mounting and coiling up inside her. It was too much! The emptiness inside had become unbearable, making her writhe with need.

"Nick. Please . . ."

Before she understood what was happening, her entire body shuddered and racked with convulsive waves that pulled her into a black void of exquisite sensation. When the rapturous aftershocks had subsided, she found him looking intently down upon her. His pupils were dilated, and his breathing was ragged.

"What did you do to me?" she asked, breathless and dazed.

"I gave you a small taste of what can be when a man and woman join together."

"It was wondrous. But we didn't . . . I mean, you didn't . . ."

"No, I didn't," he said, his voice suddenly low and hoarse.

Once more, she found her logic and emotions at odds. "Was it really only touching that you desired, or was it your intent to ruin me?"

"If you are asking if this was a premeditated seduction, the answer is no, but I would be lying if I told you I didn't want you. My very being burns for you. Nevertheless, I won't force your hand, Mariah. I won't exploit your vulnerability."

"I know I shouldn't want this . . . but . . ."

"But?" Something different flared in his eyes.

"But I do. I want you, Nick. I want to feel everything that can be between us."

The words had barely passed her lips before he captured her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss that eradicated any further thought beyond his body and hers. Their hands were everywhere. Kissing and panting, they pulled at each other's clothes until only the thin linen of her shift and his shirt and breeches remained. As he drew back to strip them off, her gaze dropped to the tented space between his legs and then flickered back up to his face.

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

"A little. But also curious. Could I please see it?"

His mouth gave a wicked little twitch. "I'll only show you mine if you show me yours."

She licked her lips. "I suppose it's inevitable."

"Shall I go first?" he asked.

"If you please."

She watched intently as he unbuttoned his placket and removed his breeches. His lower legs were well-formed, muscular, and covered in dark hair all the way up to . . . Her earlier curiosity about his body was finally satisfied. He did indeed have a nest of dark hair at the base of his sex, but she was far more fascinated by the rigid member springing proudly upward from that nest. She suddenly recalled with a surge of panic what he intended to do with it. "It's . . . rather large, isn't it?"

It gently bounced and swayed as he stepped toward her. "I would like to think so," he replied with a smirk, "but it's probably quite average. Please, Mariah." He reached out for her hand. "I want you to touch me. Like I touched you."

Taking her hand in his, he wrapped her fingers around his hot flesh and then moved her hand slowly up and down his phallus. The skin was as soft as silk but felt like iron beneath—hot and pulsing iron. He squeezed her hand tighter and shut his eyes on a grimace. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No. It's pleasure."

"But you want more . . . pleasure."

"Yes," he hissed. "I want desperately to be inside you."

She licked her lips and met his gaze. "Then come inside me."

He released her hand slowly. "Are you very certain?"

"Yes. I am very certain." Her gaze locked with his, she reached for the hem of her shift. The moment she pulled it over her head, she felt the weight of his body sinking onto the divan.

He began with gentle caresses that sent tiny shivers over her skin. His mouth came into play, blazing a moist, hot trail over her body, lingering at her breasts, gently circling her nipples, teasing them with darting flicks of his tongue.

She arched into him with a moan, and he took her into his mouth, lightly clamping and tugging the taut peaks with his teeth, sending a rush of sensation to her core. She twined her fingers in his hair as he suckled as he had done before. With the same light caress of hands and mouth, he left her breasts to smooth over her belly, blazing a scorching path with his mouth, inciting soft, blissful sounds from her as he worked his way down her body. Once more, she felt the stroke of his hands on her thighs, moving to the sensitive inside, and then easing them apart. 

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the invasion, only to be shocked by a hot, wet swipe of his tongue. "Wh-what are you doing?" she squeaked.

"I'm going to make love to you with my mouth before I enter you." 

He lowered once more to her sex, slowly and deliberately exploring her slick contours in a way that blinded her with pleasure. She whimpered for him to stop and at the same time clutched a hand to his head, squirming against him. He found her hidden nub and laved it with long licks, short flicks, and sinful swirls that made her buck and sob. Flushed and panting, she begged for an end to the exquisite torture. Just when she thought she would come apart again, he pulled away. Pressing one thigh between her legs, he moved back up her body to claim her mouth again in a salty, musky kiss, groaning into her mouth as he slid his sex into her wetness.

He reached down between them to guide the head of his phallus, creating new and breathtaking sensations as he slid it in and out of her slick folds. Instinctively, she moved her hips, increasing the friction until they were both panting.

She stiffened the moment he positioned the head at her entrance. He sealed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cry at the searing sensation as he plunged into her, breaching the maidenhead that had barred the entrance to her womb. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for more pain, but he remained perfectly still. Was this all there was to it? Was it done?  Somehow she could not believe it was so.

She opened her eyes to find his closed, his face drawn taught as if in intense pain. His body trembled, and his chest heaved. "Did it hurt?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes with a look of surprise. "God, no! I am nearly unmanned. Just give me a moment," he begged.

It was only then she realized his face was strained with concentration. He was inside her, buried to the hilt. Yet the burning sensation had eased, supplanted by a strange fullness that suffused her entire being. They were joined in as intimate a fashion as man and woman could be, and it was breathtaking.

***

Nick was barely holding himself in check. Buried in her hot, tight sheath was pure, agonizing rapture. He braced himself on his elbows, holding himself at a slight distance form her for fear that even an inch more exposure to her sweet, welcoming flesh would put him over the edge. That brief moment of initial penetration had nearly been the end of him. He felt as if all the blood had drained from his body to engorge his pulsing staff, and his bollocks were tight enough to burst. His pulse pounded in his ears as he fought to keep his release at bay. Another moment passed before he felt he had himself sufficiently in check.

"Are you all right, Mariah?" he asked. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," she whispered. "It hurt at first, but not so much now. I like this, Nick, feeling you inside me."

"I swear you will like it a whole lot more the next time," he said. "There will be less pain and eventually only pleasure."

He kissed her again, trying to focus on the kiss rather than the mind-blurring friction of his cock moving inside her hot, tight passage. Flexing his hips, he withdrew slightly and then thrust back in again. He continued kissing her deeply, probing with his tongue in synchrony with the rhythmic repetition of his hips. White-hot jolts of sensation fired every nerve.

She moaned into his mouth and, without coaxing, wrapped her legs about his flanks, urging him deeper into her wetness. She began to meet his thrusts, undulating beneath him as he drove into her harder and deeper. His urgency increased as the air thickened with the scent of sex and the sultry sounds of pleasure. His climax hit him with a blinding fury, forcing hot spurts of his seed and a ferocious cry from his lungs. Gazing into her beautiful eyes in the moment of his release, he knew he was indeed a man undone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“None but the brave deserves the fair.”-
John Dryden

LYING CURLED UP against Nick's big, warm body, listening to the soft slap of waves against the barge and the slow and steady beat of her lover's heart, Mariah felt as if she'd awakened from a dream. How could the world have suddenly become so different? Or maybe she had. How was it possible that the act of love had wrought such a profound change? It was done. Or better said, she was ruined. Utterly and completely ruined, but try as she might, she couldn't summon even an ounce of regret. The experience had been beyond her wildest imaginings, but where did they go from here?

"Nick?" she prompted softly, tracing lazy circles on his bare chest.

He cracked one eye open. "What is it, love?"

"Do you intend to make an honest woman of me?"

His sensuous lips curved in a lazy smile. "I thought I declared myself to you in the most uncertain terms. If I have failed to communicate the depths of my devotion, perhaps I should try again?"

"Please don't tease me."

"I am quite serious, my love. Were we not presently in a barge moored in the middle of the Thames, I would indeed show you again, and again." He cupped the back of her head and pulled in for a long and tender kiss. "Will you have me, Mariah? Will you take me as your husband until death do us part?"

"Yes, Nick," she murmured. "I never wanted anyone but you."

"Nor I you," he replied softly, stroking an index finger over her lips.

An explosion suddenly jolted them apart.

"What was that?" Mariah gasped.

"I can only presume the illuminations have begun."

A second boom followed, echoed by a series of crackles.

"Is it so very late?" Her heart raced. "What can Lydia and Marcus be thinking? And Lady Russell? They will surely wonder what we have been doing."

Nick chuckled. "Are you still so innocent, my love? I assure you there will be no doubt of our activities in any of their minds."

Mariah flushed. "Then how can I possibly show my face?"

"We need only tell them we are to marry, and no one will care. Indeed, I have half a mind to hire a coach this moment and abscond with you to Mayfair."

"Why would you wish to go to Mayfair?"

"There is a small chapel next to St. George's that will perform quiet weddings."

"Without a license?"

"Yes. They only require two witnesses. Although the practice is frowned upon, such marriages are nevertheless upheld under the law."

"But I don't wish to be secretive. Getting married hastily in the middle of the night would suggest shame. I don't want any such intimations hanging over us. I would prefer to wed in full light of day with friends and family present."

"I merely gave you an alternative to joining the party, my love. We will do as you wish." He rose from the divan and snatched up their scattered garments, adding with a grin, "It appears I must now test my skills as a lady's maid."

***

A crowd of hundreds was gathered on the riverbank gazing up at the sky with gasps and cheers. Nick held Mariah close to his side with a hand pressed discreetly at her back as they marveled at the grand finale, a stunning spectacle of sound and colorful explosions that illuminated the heavens.

"Mariah!" Lydia called out to her as the last sparkles sputtered and died. Squeezing her considerable girth through the crowd, she waddled across the lawn. "I was growing alarmed." She darted Nick a censorious look. "I was ready to send Marcus after you."

"I'm sorry, Lyddie. I didn't mean to worry you, but Mr. Needham and I had much to discuss." She sheepishly diverted her gaze away. "And then I couldn't find the package you asked me to retrieve."

"Botheration!" Lydia declared. "It must have been left behind at Russell House. No matter." She waved her hand dismissively. "I'll just have to present it to Marcus when we return."

"Where is Marcus?" Nick asked.

"Right over there." She pointed. "My poor darling is stuck between the two cricket-mad dukes. The king has already made his excuses. He abhors the game, probably because Prince Frederick is so enamored of it. I marvel that a father and son can so despise one another. I'm certain Marcus would appreciate a rescue. Indeed, if he sends me another beseeching look, I just may have to feign birth pains."

Nick laughed. "You need not. I have the perfect excuse to pull him away."

"And what is that?" Lydia asked.

"It seems I am in need of a best man."

Lydia's eyes widened. "You and Mariah are to wed?"

Unable to hold back her joy, Mariah released a giddy giggle. "Yes, Lyddie."

"Dearest! I am so happy for you!" Lydia gushed. "When?"

"We haven't—"

"As soon as it can be arranged," Nick interjected. "Please, Mariah. Let us be married soon. I see no reason to delay." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.  "I won't chance losing you again." 

"You must tell Marcus at once," Lydia declared. "He will be so very pleased."

Nick grinned and gave Lydia a mocking bow. "I am your humble servant, my lady. I go to retrieve your beleaguered husband."

"I am truly happy for you, dearest," Lydia said the moment Nick departed. "As will be Lady Russell."

"Where is she?" Mariah asked.

"Over there." Lydia inclined her head to a nearby cluster of elegantly clad women. "She's engaged in a tete-a-tete with the Duchess of Bedford." Lydia frowned. "I daresay Her Grace will be less than pleased to hear your news."

"Why is that?" Mariah asked.

"Because she's the one who put forth your name to Lord Rochford. She thoroughly disapproves of his personal conduct and desires to see him wed. It is she who brought the matter to the king's attention. While I couldn't be happier for you, I fear what might transpire when His Majesty gets wind of this."

"You believe Nick's career will be in jeopardy?"

"It's highly possible if Rochford takes exception to the news. He has the king's ear."

"I don't know why he should take exception. It's not as if he is in love with me. I was merely the lesser of three evils."

"Three?" Lydia's brows rose. "So there were other candidates?"

"I believe so, but Nick can give you the particulars."

Lydia tapped her fan to her lips. "Then perhaps there is a viable solution. Come," she hooked elbows with Mariah, "this is a matter for Lady Russell's counsel."

***

"Nick!" Marcus greeted him warmly. "Speak of the devil and he doth appear!"

"Have I sprouted horns?" Nick asked dryly. "Your Graces," Nick made his obeisance first to the Duke of Bedford and then to Richmond.

"Ah, Needham!" His Grace of Bedford smiled. "We were indeed discussing the match last year that won Marcus his place on the delegation. I informed Richmond here that Lord Rochford stole one of the best batsmen in England. He reports that you have assembled quite a good cricket team in Turin."

"The Italians would hardly hold a candle to our English players," Nick replied, "but they have embraced the game with great enthusiasm."

"Indeed?" Lord Richmond remarked. "Bedford and I have in mind to form a cricket club. 'Tis too bad you are posted in the Italian states. A man of your reputed talent would be invaluable in getting our new venture off the ground."

"I would be honored to play for you, Your Grace. But I must conclude the matter that brought me back to England."

"And how goes the wooing?" Bedford asked. "Has Rochford secured his bride?"

Nick shook his head. "Sadly, the lady in question has refused him."

"Did she, begad?" Bedford remarked with a frown. "What reason does she give?"

"Her affections are otherwise engaged."

"Ah. I daresay Rochford will not pine over it. Nevertheless, it still must be done. My duchess will never rest until he is well and truly shackled like the rest of us poor sods."

"How soon do you return to Turin?" Richmond asked.

"I don't know, Your Grace. In truth, I would very much like to remain in England."

"You intend to leave the Foreign Service?" the Duke of Bedford remarked in surprise. "Were you not recently promoted?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Nick confessed. "I appreciate the opportunity I was given, but I find I am far too English to live my entire life abroad."

The Duke of Richmond chuckled. "Can't fault a man for being too English.”

"If you do not intend to return to Turin, what are your plans?" Bedford asked. "If you are going to settle in the metropolis, I could use a batsman of your skill."

"I don't yet know, Your Grace. I have yet to make inquiries. I had thought to seek a position in the Office of the Exchequer.”

"Then you must call on me at Woburn when the time comes. I'm certain something could be arranged."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Nick replied.

"I trust by your extended absence that your mission was fruitful?" Marcus inquired sotto voce.

"It was indeed," Nick replied with a grin. "I found your advice most helpful in the matter.

"Lord Marcus!" They both looked up to find Mariah racing toward them, skirts in hand. "You must come at once!"

Marcus instantly paled. "What has happened, Mariah? Is it Lydia?"

"Yes!" she replied breathlessly. "Her waters have broken. The birth pains have begun!"

"The devil!" Marcus exclaimed. "Here? Now?"

"I will call for my coach at once," the Duke of Bedford declared.

"But the traffic is execrable tonight," Nick stated. "What if you don't make it home safely?"

"Richmond House would be honored to welcome your heir," the duke offered magnanimously. "Let us take Lady Lydia inside at once.  I will alert the duchess to prepare chambers for her lying in."

***

None of the Russell party returned home that night. Six hours later, on the very day of Marcus and Lydia's anniversary, Lord Richmond Marcus Maximillian Russell entered the world.

Exhausted by their all-night vigil, Mariah, Nick, and Lady Russell departed Richmond House by carriage, leaving Marcus behind with his wife and heir.

"I understand we have a second cause for celebration," Lady Russell remarked with a sly smile.

"Yes. We had hoped to perform the nuptials soon," Nick said, "but Mariah has convinced me that I should first try to resolve Lord Rochford's business."

"That would be wise, Needham. It would bode ill to make an enemy of the man. Have you any thoughts on how you wish to proceed?"

"There were two other names on the list, Lady Albinia Albright and Lady Georgiana Throckmorton. Rochford only cares that they be possessed of beauty and a biddable temperament."

"Are you acquainted with either of the ladies, Needham?"

"No, my lady."

"Then I will save you considerable trouble. Lady Albinia, although possessed of a pleasing nature, has exceedingly poor eyesight and rabbit teeth."

"How unfortunate," Mariah said. "What of Lady Georgiana?"

"Georgiana is a noted beauty in Cambridgeshire, but she is spoiled, willful, and prone to tantrums—a veritable termagant."

Mariah grimaced. "What shall we do?"

Lady Russell pursed her lips in thought. "I propose another candidate who should suit Rochford admirably. Indeed, they could not be better matched as both are notorious gamesters with the morals of an alley cat."

"Of whom do you speak?" Nick asked.

"I speak of the recently widowed Lady Cumberbatch. Although the primary estate devolves on her nephew, she is possessed of several other properties and a considerable fortune, which was protected in her marriage settlement."

"Is that so?" Nick inquired with interest.

"Moreover, I believe the countess and Rochford are already quite well acquainted," Lady Russell stated with a knowing look. "Perhaps a query in that direction would not go astray?"

"Madam," Nick smiled. "Once more I stand in awe of your brilliance."

Lady Russell accepted the compliment with an inclination of her head and a wistful sigh. "Were I but a man, Needham, our nation's troubles would have been solved long ago."

***

My Dear Lord Rochford,

I regret to inform you that the business you entrusted me with did not conclude as we had originally discussed. Of the three prospects, the first has already pledged herself to another, and the second and third have been deemed unsuitable, according to your criteria. There is, however, another, a widowed lady of your acquaintance, whom our mutual friend, Lady Russell, assures me would receive your suit with the keenest interest.