26 September, 1822
Lady Clitheroe’s Estate, Bedfordshire
Soft tapping at her door sent her senses to full alert and she hurried to answer it.
Fitz slipped in silently, quietly closing the door and turning the key in the lock. The very air around them crackled.
“You had fair weather for your journey today,” she said awkwardly.
He’d returned to Lady Clitheroe’s that evening, and they’d had no more than the briefest of moments alone before announcing their engagement to their hostess and their guests.
He smiled. “You wish to discuss the weather?”
She took in a breath, shook her head, and laughed. “No.” I wish to kiss you, and more. “Tell me what Grandfather said when he gave his blessing.”
He withdrew a letter from inside his coat. “Read for yourself.”
She broke the seal and scanned the few lines of the shaky hand that had become familiar to her. Grandfather’s more recent letters had been written by his secretary, but often he included a postscript in his own hand. This entire note he’d written himself.
It was short and to the point. “Well then,” she said.
“I take it he’s not made a liar out of me? Will you share what he wrote?”
This is a good match with a sensible man, Mary Elizabeth. Don’t be headstrong. Secure his hand, Granddaughter.
“He approves,” she said.
“It’s what he told me as well. I also received detailed instructions on the settlement agreement, which, on my honor, I will comply with.”
Grandfather hadn’t included those details in his note. She supposed they would be self-evident when the document was prepared.
Secure his hand.
She tossed the letter aside and went to him. His eyes glowed darkly down at her.
“Are you sure, Fitz? Any one of those young ladies downstairs—”
“I don’t want them. I want you.”
She stepped into his welcoming arms and pressed her cheek to his pounding heart. On the mantel, the candle flames flared like the spiraling warmth of her insides.
Secure his hand, Grandfather had said. She was only too willing. Yet Papa’s voice whispered at her other ear: Beware the stuffed-up lordlings, the fortune hunters, the bounders.
Fingers swept over her cheek, moving on to burrow into her hair. Pins scattered. Fitz spun her around and completed the job, sending a cascade of tangles around her. He swept her hair aside and the next sensation was the press of his lips and the tickle of breath on her neck. Pleasure rippled through her as his warmth came around her.
And then he stepped away, leaving her shivering. He marched to the hearth and added fuel to the low fire her hostess had provided for the chilly autumn night.
“There,” he said, standing and dusting his hands. “Come and sit.”
Oh, he was magnificent, framed by the flickering candles and glowing fire, a bronzed god.
And he wanted her?
“I must ask you, Fitz. Did you request money from my Grandfather?”
“I did not. Nor did he offer any. I asked for his blessing, Mel, out of respect for him and for you. I am not as wealthy as he—nor will I be, someday, may it be many years in the future when I inherit, but you will live comfortably and well.” He moved closer and took her hand. “What are your wishes for our wedding? Shall I ride to the bishop for a license, or shall we call the banns?”
When he dipped his head closer to hers, she could see a scrape near his jaw where a hasty razor had cut too close. While she was donning her night gown, he’d changed clothes and shaved. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and oranges, subtle and manly, drew her. She set a hand to the scraped spot on his cheek. Grandfather had given his blessing. Hermione was thrilled. There was no telling what Mother would say, but she was away on the Continent. Her husband’s opinion was of no account.
Secure his hand.
“By license, I think.” She went to work on his neckcloth, untying and unwinding the long piece of linen. She wanted to see him again, to rake her fingers through the crisp hair on his muscled chest, but this time his whole chest and not just the bit she could see through his open shirt.
Fitz grasped her hands and raised them to his lips. “Calling the banns, and holding the wedding in either your parish or mine with family and friends present will quell gossip. Especially if we can convince your grandfather to be present.”
How lovely if Grandfather would come. But not her mother. It would be dreadful to have Mother rush home from the Continent. Surely there wasn’t time for her to receive news of the engagement and return by the wedding.
But what about his mother?
“I hope your parents will like me,” she said.
“They’ll adore you.”
Perhaps or perhaps not. Calling the banns would give them a chance to object. It was a risk, but in all fairness, they ought to show them that sign of respect. “Very well, then. I will let you see to the banns, and we’ll marry in your church.”
Fitz released a long breath, the pulse in his neck bouncing. The silky belt of her robe loosened and fell, the whole garment soon falling away.
His hot hands burned through the sheer cotton nightgown, sending her blood pounding. He kissed her and need, stark and powerful, melted her insides, the warmth pooling between her legs.
He’d stirred her so, the night before, that they’d almost made love right there, in her bed. They hadn’t, only because Fitz had kept his trousers on, and he’d kept his head. He’d had no qualms about giving her pleasure though, and she wanted more of that.
She stepped away and framed his face with her shaking hands. “Will you stay with me again tonight?”
The hands holding her waist slid up under her breasts. “I’m not sure I can hold back.”
The warning stirred her more. “Then don’t, Fitz. Don’t hold back.”
“Mel—”
“We’re pledged to each other.” She tugged at the drawstring of her nightgown.
His lips parted, his eyes darkened, and he watched the garment loosen and slip. Smoldering looks from suitors had always made her laugh, but this one melted her down to her toes. Still, she was an inexperienced virgin, and a giggle rose in her throat, part astonishment, part bravado. She tried to swallow it down, not wanting to scare him away.
“Mel, I—”
“You gave me more pleasure than I’d ever imagined. But you didn’t take any, and I know there is more. Make me your own, Fitz.”
He let out a long breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Oh yes. I’ve waited twenty-five years for the right man.”
He tugged the gown down to the tips of her breasts. The night before, he’d kissed them through the thin fabric, sending arrows of hot need down to the place between her legs, another discovery.
With another tug, the gown pooled at her hips. His hot gaze studied her breasts and his mouth parted more.
When he reached for her, she put a hand to his chest. “Now you,” she said.
He grinned, and his coats and shirt disappeared.
Oh, he was magnificent. She fisted her hands to keep from touching. “Your trousers.”
“Not yet.” He knelt and with one tug her gown fell at her feet. Soft, warm lips touched her belly.
“Oh,” she breathed as his lips moved lower. “P-please.” The kisses traveled down, reaching that place between her legs that was aching with need. A large hand braced her bottom, while the other explored her inner thighs.
“The bed.” She clutched his shoulders. “Stand up.”
He ignored her. Or hadn’t heard. Or… “Oh Fitz.”
Muscles rippled under her fingers and against her bottom. Pleasure swirled and grew. Her knees wobbled, and weakened, and—
Fitz stood, juggling her. Cold air shocked the damp place where his face had been pressed. He carried her to the bed and set her down so gently she might have been floating, and then he loomed over her, his wide-eyed perusal intense, reminding her that she was naked and he…
She reached for the buttons of his trousers.
His hand swallowed hers. “Wait, Mel.”
Underneath both their hands, she felt the hard length of him. She didn’t want to wait.
“A moment,” he whispered. “Let me drink you in, as you are.”
I would like the same privilege. She was too breathless to speak the words.
The seconds ticked by. Mel held his gaze, attempting her own smoldering look, daring him. His lips quirked, he kicked off one shoe and then the other, and peeled off his trousers.
“Oh.” In all her years following the drum, she’d never seen this. Desire flamed in her, burning away her breath.
With a roguish grin, he eased her back. His touch was soft on her shoulders, his legs bare against hers, until they both stretched facing each other, her heart pounding out of her chest. The pad of one finger burned down her neck, over one breast and her waist and her stomach.
She copied his caress, raking the scant hair on his muscled chest, smoothing her hand down his flat stomach and…
His hand came over hers. “Not yet.” He pulled her atop him and combed his fingers through her hair until it fell all around her, just as he’d done the night before. “There. I dreamed of this all day. I expected to have to wait.” He lifted a strand of hair. “And I would wait, Mel. Are you sure?”
She straddled his legs and moved up. Her soft core touched his hardness and the shock of pleasure made her gasp. “Yes. Oh yes.”
“Oh, my darling.” Then she was on her back, his lips pressed to hers, his body pressed to hers, and she was lost.
He nudged her legs further apart and explored with his hand. “You are ready I think.” His thumb stroked and his fingers probed. “Close, I think.”
Pleasure came in waves, and then in an explosion that swallowed the sharp pain of his entry. And then he was filling her and moving, taking her with him over the edge again.