Lady Allerton's Wager (23 page)

‘Come in!’ Beth called. She had expected to see one of the maids there and her eyes widened in shock as Marcus strode into the room. He had evidently had time to change, for although his hair looked damp, his clothes were dry. Beth looked at him dubiously.

‘Oh! Lord Trevithick! I did not think…You should not be here—’

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ Marcus said abruptly, closing the door behind him.

Beth fired up. ‘Well, I do not want to hear any more! Ringing a peal over me when all I was trying to do was help—’

‘I am aware of that,’ Marcus said tightly. Beth saw that his hands were clenched at his side. ‘What you do not seem to understand, Beth, is that the sea is treacherous around here and that you could so easily
have been drowned yourself! Sometimes I think that you have no more sense than a child!’

Beth’s eyes filled with easy tears. She had had a nasty shock and now she felt decidedly humiliated. ‘Well, if I am lacking in sense, you are surely lacking in sensibility, my lord!’ She made a wild gesture with the hand that held the comb. ‘It is the cruellest thing to censure me when I am so upset—’ She broke off as she saw that Marcus’s attention had shifted from her white face to somewhere considerably lower. The brocade robe had loosened at her dramatic wave of the hand and was now falling open. Suddenly Beth was devastatingly aware that she was naked beneath its slippery folds. She gathered the material closely at her neck with a defensive gesture and fell silent. Her throat was dry and she could only watch as Marcus, eyebrows slightly raised, allowed his gaze to travel up again to rest thoughtfully on her now flushed face.

‘You are correct, Beth.’ His voice was husky now as he took a step towards her. ‘It is quite wrong of me to reproach you. My anger arose only from a desire to protect you, for it seems to me that you plunge headlong towards danger without any thought of self-preservation…’

It seemed to Beth that she was racing towards danger at that very moment. The warmth of the fire could not account for the sudden heat that suffused her skin from her bare toes to the top of her head. The soft material of the robe seemed unbearably stimulating against her naked flesh. She cleared her throat, intending to ask Marcus to leave, but some inexplicable impulse kept her silent. Instead she just watched as he took the final step towards her. His eyes were very dark, reflecting his desire for her, but overlaid with
an expression of tenderness that held her still. He took hold of her upper arms and drew her very gently towards him, and as his own arms closed about her, his mouth came down on hers.

An involuntary shudder went through Beth’s body as her lips parted under his. His skin smelled clean and fresh, and without conscious thought her hands unclenched their hold on her gown so that she could tangle her fingers in the thick darkness of his hair. Marcus deepened the kiss and Beth moved closer into his arms with a tiny moan. She blinked dizzily as he lifted his mouth from hers and touched her lips with the tip of his tongue. Conventional behaviour, the dictates of society, had ceased to exist for her as soon as Marcus had started to kiss her; all Beth knew was that her pent-up fear and anger had fused into something exquisitely tender and sweet.

Her head fell back against Marcus’s supporting arm, allowing his mouth to drift down the taut line of her throat to the hollow at its base. She felt his tongue flick over her skin, tasting her, and shivered beneath the caress. Her legs were trembling so much that she was afraid that she might fall, and Marcus evidently thought the same, for he picked her up and placed her gently on the big bed. Beth felt the cold air against her legs and realised with a faint shock that the brocade robe was almost completely undone; as soon as it came to her the knowledge seemed almost irrelevant, for Marcus was beside her and the warmth of his body kept out the cold.

She felt his fingers at her waist, loosening the robe so that it fell back completely. A moment later, Marcus’s palm brushed the slope of her breast and his mouth closed over the tight peak of her nipple, the
gentle caress becoming firmer and stronger as Beth gave a soft moan of satisfaction. She was adrift with pleasure, unaware of anything except her need for him. She reached out to him blindly, digging her fingers into his back, tugging at his shirt so that she could run her hands over the hard, bare skin beneath.

It felt cold as soon as Marcus left her side. Beth rolled over, the brocade robe crushed beneath her, and opened her eyes. There was the most extraordinary ache inside her and she had never experienced anything like it, nor the violent desire for that ache to be satisfied.

‘Marcus…’ She realised that he had only left her in order to remove his clothes and smiled a little. She was still smiling when he came back to her side a moment later.

‘Beth…’ There was a fierce desire in his face, but she could see that he was frowning. ‘Beth, if you do not wish for this, you must say so—now…’

Beth opened her eyes very wide. ‘I wish it more than anything…’

There was a moment of stillness and then Marcus smiled too and lay down to take her in his arms again. He kissed her gently, but not so gently that the effect did not vibrate all the way through Beth’s body. He was stroking her back, a soft sweep of a caress from her shoulder to the curve of her buttocks, with a touch so sensual that Beth was almost melting. She rolled over helplessly on to her back, then squirmed with renewed pleasure as Marcus’s mouth closed over her breast again.

‘Oh, please…’

She felt his hand dip between her trembling thighs, parting her legs. He was still kissing her when he
entered her and Beth was engulfed immediately in a violent surge of pleasure that made her cry out against his mouth. A second later Marcus followed and he gasped her name, pressing his face to her throat until the pleasure died away.

Beth lay quite still, her body quiescent, her mind floating. She could not even begin to think, nor did she feel that there was any immediate necessity to do so, for Marcus had pulled the covers over them and had drawn her close to his side. She turned her head against his shoulder and drifted into sleep.

When Beth woke again it was almost dark outside. Marcus was lying beside her, deeply asleep. She looked at him, marvelling at the black sweep of his eyelashes against his cheek, the faint shadow of the stubble that darkened his chin, the hard lines of his face that were soft in sleep. She wanted to touch them all. A piercing stab of love washed over her, so intense and poignant that it almost hurt. Smiling a little sadly, she picked up her robe and went over to the window embrasure, curling up so that she could look out at the pewter sea.

Charlotte had always said that she was too impulsive, but her impulses had never led her to such a point before. She and Marcus were lovers now and the whole castle, the whole island, must surely know it, for he had been alone with her in her room for hours. Beth frowned. She did not feel like a fallen woman, for her mind was so full of love for Marcus that it seemed to transcend everything else.

Beth supposed that she was now only one of a great number of rich widows who had taken a lover, yet that seemed too shabby, too unemotional a description
for what had happened between herself and Marcus. She knew that society’s rules, whilst allowing no latitude for unmarried girls, were far more understanding of ladies in her position. Widows and married women were given a certain freedom, one might even say laxity, to behave as they pleased. And after all, she and Marcus were already betrothed. So, provided that they were discreet…Beth frowned again. She knew she had never been very good at being discreet. Her temperament was too open and now she wanted to shout from the rooftops that she loved Marcus to distraction.

Beth drew her knees up to her chin. She felt warm and happy and satisfied in a way that she had never felt with Frank Allerton. He had shown her none of the physical pleasure or the tenderness that Marcus had. She smiled wryly, remembering that she had previously thought herself physically cold. She had started to discover her mistake when she had first encountered Marcus in London and the explosive nature of their attraction had made her realise there was a whole side of her character that she had not known existed. Now she realised that to the full.

‘Beth?’ Marcus had stirred and was leaning on one elbow, watching her. Her heart swelled with love for him. She went across to the bed and sat on the edge, looking at him. A faint smile touched his mouth.

‘Are you quite well, my love?’

Beth dropped her gaze. It was very nice to be called that and perhaps it might even be taken to imply that he loved her…She waited, hoping he would say so, but he did not.

‘I am well,’ she said, a little shyly.

‘What were you thinking?’ Marcus asked. His dark gaze was very direct. Beth plucked at the bedcovers.

‘I was thinking that…oh, that Lady Salome and Charlotte and everyone else would not approve, and that I am indeed a shameless creature…’

She saw Marcus smile, but his gaze remained grave. ‘So you regret what has happened?’

‘No,’ Beth said, hampered by her honesty. ‘I cannot. But Marcus—do you…I mean, do you think me—?’

Marcus raised a hand and touched her cheek. ‘I think that you are lovely, Beth. We are to be married and I do not think the opinions of others matter.’

A strange feeling took Beth, part triumphant and part forlorn. Whilst reassured that Marcus thought no less of her, she could not help feeling that he could afford to be hardy about the opinions of others whereas she was more vulnerable. She watched as he sat up and wrapped the sheet about him. He was still watching her, but with a speculation now that made her skin prickle with excitement.

‘I wondered if you would care to take a bath,’ Marcus said. ‘After your ordeal in the sea it would perhaps be efficacious for your health…’

Beth looked at him. There was a spark of teasing in his eye, a hint of mischief and something more. The prickle of excitement turned into a tingle of unmistakable anticipation.

‘Well, if you think I should—’

‘I am certain.’ Marcus swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his shirt. ‘But only if you share it with me.’

Beth’s eyes opened to their widest extent. ‘Oh! But…could we?’

Marcus grinned. ‘I do not see why not!’

He wandered over to the fireplace and rang the bell. Beth gave a squeak. ‘Marcus, the servants—’

Marcus only grinned at her again. He sauntered back to her side and slipped his arms about her, dropping a light kiss on her lips. ‘So shy, my love? I fear it is a little late for that…’

Beth knew this was true but, all the same, it seemed sensible for Marcus to go to his own rooms and for her to wait discreetly alone whilst the water was drawn.

It was Martha McCrae who delivered it herself, in company with two maids, and their faces were so blank that Beth almost had a fit of the giggles. Tellingly Martha did not enquire after Beth’s health, but her gaze did rest for a moment on the tumbled bedsheets and Beth thought that she almost smiled.

‘Martha,’ she said quickly, as they were leaving, ‘how does baby Jamie? I hope that he is fully recovered?’

Martha did smile then, and a wicked dimple appeared in her cheek. ‘Yes, thank you, milady.’ She dropped a curtsey. ‘He has taken no hurt, as indeed I hope you have not…’

Beth blushed, flustered. Martha gave her an innocent smile and closed the door softly.

Beth went through to the bathroom. The water had been scented with lavender and smelled delicious. She slipped out of her robe and into the hot water, closing her eyes with a sigh.

A moment later she opened them wide with a little shriek as Marcus slid into the bath behind her. She felt the press of his body against hers and almost squeaked again when he pulled her back against him.
The water rose dangerously, threatening to slop over the sides of the bath on to the floor.

‘Stop wriggling,’ Marcus instructed, laughing softly. ‘Just keep still, or you will drown us both! We are fortunate that there is so much room in here…’

Beth complied, holding her breath as she felt his hands start to massage her shoulders gently. It felt delicious. The scent of the water, the hot, rising steam, the smell of lavender and the soapy slipperiness of Marcus’s hands against her skin provoked the most delightful sensations within her. When he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck, where the damp black curls stuck to her skin, she leant back against his chest and closed her eyes. When his hands slipped lower to caress her breasts, she was certain she was about to dissolve with sheer pleasure.

So rapt was she in the desire he was invoking that Beth barely noticed when Marcus scooped her out of the bath and swept her up into his arms. He wrapped her in a huge towel and carried her through to the bedroom. They tumbled down on to the big bed together, Marcus pulling her under him. His mouth took the place of his hands at her breast and the exquisite surge of pleasure almost pushed Beth over the edge. She reached for him, gasping his name. Then all thought was lost as her mind was swamped in pure delight.

‘You have been very quiet tonight, my dear,’ Marcus observed, as he and Beth sat over the chessboard the following evening. ‘Are you too tired to play? Do you wish to go to bed?’

They had taken dinner together and had now retired to the green drawing room, as had become their habit
during the past two weeks. Although they usually played cards or talked, tonight Beth had chosen to play chess instead and had promptly lost the first game. She had been totally preoccupied because she had been wondering what was going to happen between herself and Marcus that night.

Marcus had stayed the previous night with her but when she had woken that morning he had been gone and she had not seen him for the whole of the day. The servants had told her that he was out with Colin McCrae on estate business, which was only natural, but Beth had been unable to settle all day. She had gone on a long walk to Admiral’s Point, had done some unnecessary gardening and probably killed some of Lady Salome’s wintering bulbs, and had undertaken any number of tasks to distract her thoughts from the night before. She wondered if their lovemaking had perhaps been an aberration, a night borne out of the indisputable tension that had built up between herself and Marcus. Perhaps neither of them would ever speak of it again and pretend that it had never happened, and she was not sure how she would feel if that was the case. Her emotions felt too raw and new for too much soul-searching.