M Is for Marquess (37 page)

He threaded his fingers through her luxuriant tresses. “I like your hair down, Lady Tremont,” he murmured. “Especially since I’m the only man who gets to see it this way.”

“Possessive, are you?” Her eyes twinkled up at him.

“You know that I am.” He took the brush from her hands. “And you know that you love it.”

Her blush was a glorious thing, sunset spreading up her smooth white throat and porcelain cheeks. He ran the bristles through her locks, savoring the way she shivered at his touch.

The domesticity of the moment struck him. He was combing his wife’s hair. He wasn’t holding a blade, pistol, or instrument of killing; that time was finally over. Because of Thea, he was finally getting his fresh start. And he was determined to begin this chapter right.

“Goodness, that’s nice.” She sighed, her neck arching a little. “The wedding went well, don’t you think?”

“Hmm,” he said absently.

He was searching for words, the best way to share the results of his soul-searching over the past few days. Intimacy still didn’t come easily for him; perhaps it never would. For Thea, however, he was willing to try. Willing, in truth, to do anything.

“My favorite part was the throwing of the bouquet. Did you see Violet’s face when she caught it?” Thea chuckled. “She looked like she’d bitten into a lemon.”

Amused in spite of himself, he said, “Didn’t she want to catch it?”

“She wanted to
win.
This will teach her that there are consequences to being competitive.” Thea swiveled around to look at him. “Which was your favorite part of the wedding?”

“The part that made you my wife.” He set the brush down with a decisive click. “Thea, there’s something I wish to discuss.”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to tell you… you were right.” He let out a breath. “About Sylvia.”

Color stained her cheeks; her gaze slid away. “We don’t have to talk about the past. It was wrong of me to pry about your marriage that time and—”

“No, love.” He tipped her chin up, and the embarrassment in her eyes made him want to kick himself. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Of course you wanted to talk about my past. I’m sorry I was a bastard about it. The truth is I don’t want anything between us. Not even old secrets.”

Her smile almost reached her eyes. Gave him the courage to go on.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about my keeping Sylvia on a pedestal, and I’ve come to realize that you were right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, admitted gruffly, “It was the only way to connect with her. She was so ladylike, so… untouchable. I never felt like I deserved her.”

“You were a good husband to her,” Thea said softly.

“I thought I loved her, but I realize now that I loved an idea of perfection that wasn’t real. Or maybe it was real, but it wasn’t what I truly wanted. What I needed.” He let go of the final truth. “It never made me happy.”

“Oh, Gabriel.” Thea’s eyes shimmered. “I’m sorry.”

“No, princess, don’t be. Don’t you see?” Going down on one knee, he cupped her precious face in his hands. “I know what happiness is now because of you. Because you’ve shown me that my desires and who I am are worthy of acceptance. Your sweet love and wanton passion have made me whole, brought me the peace that I never thought to find. You’ve freed me from my curse.”

Two droplets spilled from her eyes, but he thought they were tears of joy.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she said with a sniffle. “I love you so much.”

“As I love you, my dearest wife,” he said.

Their lips met in a tender, searing kiss. He tasted salt and sweetness, the addicting contrast of cherished bride and sultry lover, the seamless interweaving of love and desire. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, he’d lifted her onto the vanity, her back against the glass, his lips wandering down her elegant throat. One tug of her belt, and her robe parted, slipping off her shoulders to reveal a garment that made his temperature spike. Made of powder blue satin and creamy lace, the slip plunged deeply over her bosom and had no sleeves. It was held up by a satin bow on each shoulder.

He slid his finger under one bow. “I like this,” he murmured.

“I thought you might.”

His hands skimmed the lithe curve of her hips. “Actually, I’d prefer you in nothing at all.”

“I think that can be arranged as well.”

“Minx.” Holding her eyes, he took a step back. “Take it off for me, then.”

There was no hesitation in her gaze. Just love and feminine desire. A breathtaking acceptance that he would remember for the rest of his life. In a graceful movement, she slid off the vanity. Standing, she tugged first on one bow and then the other. The satin cascaded off her skin like a wave, pooling at her feet. A dewy flush spread over her creamy skin, and she kept her eyes on his. Innocent and sensuous, she was his own Aphrodite rising from the sea.

Tonight he would claim her fully.

Wonder and lust flowed through him. In a smooth motion, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the canopied bed. He lay her on the satin sheets and just feasted on the sight of her. She was delight in every aspect, her hair spread in a decadent fan, her nipples hard and blushing coral, gilded floss peeping between her slender thighs.

Kneeling on the bed, he bent and kissed her soft mouth. “You’re so beautiful, my princess in the tower.”

Her smile brimmed with seductive promise. “But I’m no longer in a tower, am I?”

“No. You’re right here with me,” he said huskily. “Where you belong.”

As he said the words, the need to claim his prize overwhelmed him. He kissed her throat, its vital warmth leaping beneath his tongue. Her breasts came next, the pouting peaks begging for his attention. He lingered there, licking and suckling her tits, captivated by her moans, her abandoned response to his loving. Then the other fragrant hills and valleys of her beckoned, and he continued his journey downward.

He worked his way along the graceful length of one leg, savoring her silky skin. He discovered that she was ticklish behind her knee, her infectious giggles making him grin. This playfulness was new to him, a delightful ease that somehow complemented the intensity of his feelings. He kissed her sweet calf, the delicate turn of her ankle, the instep of her dainty foot. When he sucked one toe into his mouth, her laughter gave way to a sultry gasp.

He kissed each and every one of her pretty little toes.

Then he made his way up along the inside of her other leg, reaching her shy petals. His heart thumped as he found her wet and delicately swollen. Parting her, he eased two fingers inside, groaning at the snug clasp of her pussy. Her hips arched in supplication, and he had to make sure she was completely ready for him this first time.

Besides, his mouth watered for a taste of his wife.

Burying his head between her thighs, he ate her cunny with all the ravening need inside him. Her scent maddened him, as did her flavor, rich and heady as the finest wine. Sighs left her as he stabbed his tongue deeply. He diddled her pearl while he fucked her this way, and her hands clenched his hair, urging him on. She stiffened, her passage rippling around his tongue, her lips chanting his name.

“So good,” he muttered thickly. “Come for me, sweeting.”

As her climax broke, he tore off his robe. His erection was huge, dripping at the tip. Leaning over her, he notched the flaring head to her slit and drove slowly forward. A groan ripped from his chest. Hot, tight bliss—a pleasure that merged body and soul, that obliterated everything he’d known before. He felt her virgin cunny stretching to accommodate him, flowering around the meat of his shaft, and he knew that he’d come home at last.

***

Gabriel’s face hung over her, his cheekbones flushed, his features held in tight concentration.

He was inside her.

His presence overwhelmed her senses. Thick and hard, his cock was tightly wedged. Each breath she took seemed to intensify the contact until she fancied she could feel each ridge and prominent vein, each throbbing inch. He stretched her, filled her, overwhelmed her with feeling.

My husband
, she thought in wonder. Her vision grew blurry.

“Princess?” A crease formed between his brows. “Does it hurt? Are you—”

“It doesn’t hurt. It feels right. Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered, “you’re a part of me now.”

The adoration in his eyes lured more tears down her cheeks. Tenderly, he wiped them away.

“I never want to part from you.” His gaze radiated passionate intensity as he began to move. “I want to be inside you, fucking you, loving you always.”

She sighed as each lunge spread her further, opening her to discovery. She ran her hands over his bunching shoulders, the rippling muscles of his back. Beneath her palms, she felt the faint lines of scars, but she knew they could hurt him no more. His sinewy body caged her as he stroked his cock deeper and deeper inside. Surrounded by his strength, his scent, his love, she felt need blossoming in her again. Wanting to be closer to him still, she circled the hard grooves of his hips with her legs. She arched, intuitively meeting his thrusts, moaning at the friction of the new angle.

“Yes, darling,” he growled. “Move with me. Make love with me.”

His thrusts became harder, the erotic sounds of their meeting flesh filling the room. The pounding rhythm overtook her heart, and she lost herself in the primal beauty of their music. Her body heaved against his in slick and urgent counterpart, the chorus of their passion soaring.

“I’m close,” he gritted out. “Take it from me, princess. Take your due.”

His words triggered a tremor deep in her core. The voluptuous shock spread to her pussy, the muscles convulsing, gripping his plunging cock. The finale made her cry out, and he shuddered, his eyes rolling back in his head as he flooded her with endless, rapturous heat.

With a groan, he collapsed atop her, and she savored the crushing weight. The knowledge that he’d finally given her everything that he was. And she’d given the same to him.

After a while, he rolled onto his side, keeping their bodies joined. Brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he said, “How do you feel, love?”

“Like your wife.” She loved the contentment glowing in his eyes. “And you?”

“Like your husband.” He kissed her softly. “The luckiest man in the world.”

Epilogue

Gabriel paced before one of the windows in his study. Normally, the sight of the flourishing lands outside brought him satisfaction. Today, he felt nothing but a bone-deep chill.

“Why is it taking so long, Papa? Do you think Mama is all right?” Freddy was walking up and down the length of the study, his stride coltish due to his recent growth spurt. “Why hasn’t Dr. Abernathy come down yet?”

“These things take time, son.” He tried to sound confident, his heart palpitating with fear.

Strathaven spoke up from the wingchair, where he was reading a paper. “No need to worry, the both of you,” he said complacently. “The Kents are a robust lot.”

Recalling how white-knuckled His Grace had been during the recent delivery of his heir, Gabriel stifled a sarcastic rejoinder. Instead, he turned back to the window, staring out blindly as memories of the past year flitted through his head. Everyday moments like laughing with Thea and Freddy at the dining table. The three of them visiting the tenants together or taking swimming expeditions at the estate’s pond. The simple joys of creating a home together.

Private moments, too, rolled over him. The time he’d surprised Thea with a new piano… and the sweet, hot way she’d thanked him. He shivered, seeing her pale curves bent over the dark wood, his hands gripping her hips as he rutted her hard and fast from behind, her ecstatic cries mingling with his. There were the long, steamy nights, too, where in the sanctuary of their shared bed no avenue to pleasure was left unexplored, nothing forbidden.

His throat constricted.
If anything happens her…

Just as he was vowing eternal celibacy (or at least the use of certain preventative measures), the door opened.

Dr. Abernathy stepped in, and Gabriel’s breath held.

“Congratulations, my lord. Your wife is doing well. You have a new son…” Just as a tide of relief washed over Gabriel, the physician added, “And a new daughter.”

Holy Christ… twins?

Freddy let out an excited whoop. “I have a brother
and
a sister!”

“Congratulations, old boy.” Strathaven strode over and slapped Gabriel on the back.

Gabriel stared at the doctor. “My wife,” he managed, “you’re certain she’s…”

“She’s doing exceptionally well. She and your babes are ready for a visit, although we ought to make it a short one. Your marchioness is a strong lass, but she has put in a good day’s work,” Dr. Abernathy said with a twinkle.

Dazed, Gabriel headed up to Thea’s room, their son behind him. He entered, and, at the sight of his wife, emotion broke inside him. His eyes wet, he staggered over, his hand shaking as he smoothed a curl from her cheek.

She smiled up at him, looking tired but happy. The most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

“How are you, princess?” he said hoarsely.

“There were a few surprises,” she said ruefully, “but I think I weathered them rather well. Would you care to meet the newest members of our family?”

The duchess came forward then; in his haste to get to his wife, he hadn’t even noticed his sister-in-law standing there. Smiling, she held a white-flannel bundle in each arm; she gave him one and Thea the other.

“I’ll leave you all to your introductions,” she said softly and closed the door behind her.

With wonder, Gabriel cradled the precious weight, taking in the puffy, wrinkled face of the sleeping babe. The miracle that he and Thea had made together.

“Would you like to hold your new sibling, Freddy?” Thea said.

Their son gingerly took the bundle Thea held out to him. She ruffled his hair as he rocked the newborn, his expression awestruck. He peered over at the babe in Gabriel’s arms.

“Papa,” he said, “is this my brother or sister I’m holding?”

Gabriel realized that he hadn’t the faintest clue. “Er…”