Before Michael had retired for the evening, he’d shown March the connecting door to his suite and insisted she come to him if she had any worries or concerns. The euphoria over his marriage proposal had pushed aside her gnawing emptiness that had resulted from the truth of her birth. But as sure as the sun surrenders to the night, so did her elation. The minutes ticked by, and an ill sense of doom clouded her senses much like the smoke from a green wood fire.
After she’d soaked in a rose-scented bath, March had collapsed in a yellow-and-ivory striped brocade chair and studied the fire. Her illegitimacy once again consumed her thoughts. How could she share a life with someone as wonderful as Michael when her own identity would always be a whispered rumor behind her back? Ghosts of innuendos and slights by the elite members of the ton would haunt her. She couldn’t bear it if her past compromised Michael’s political career or damaged his standing in society. Rupert would inflict more damage if he continued in his accusations that she was a forger and an embezzler. She should wait to discuss the matter thoroughly with Michael on the morrow, but it was too important to wait.
She had to reassure herself that he understood what it would mean if he married her. The honorable thing was to allow him to withdraw his proposal, even though she’d be heartbroken if he agreed.
The more March tried to settle her thoughts, the wilder they swirled. When she started to pace, her heartbeat raced in an attempt to keep up with her frantic steps. Soon she found herself walking across the shared dressing room. When she reached Michael’s door, she tentatively knocked.
“Come in.” Even through the thick wood door, his deep voice carried.
Quickly, so she wouldn’t lose her courage, she entered his private domain.
Instead of darkness, soft light bathed the room from a well-tended fire before her. Two candles flickered in welcome on a table to her right. Next to the table stood a massive four-poster bed covered with elegant emerald-green satin and brocade hangings with a faint tartan pattern of blue and red. A velvet spread covered the bed in the color of hunter green. Every piece of fabric, artwork, and furniture in the room signified power and opulence. However, the most amazing sight lay in the bed.
In repose and shirtless, Michael reclined holding a book, his other arm stretched across an ivory bolster. The muscular contours and valleys of his body emphasized his strength, reminding her once again that he was a virile, masculine creature who could break her without much effort.
As she struggled with her thoughts, another crossroad lay before her. Whether she chose the right path and offered to release him from his marriage proposal or selfishly clung to the life he promised was a deadly battle, one her mind and heart fought with vigor. To free Michael from his promise could very well result in her heart not surviving the night, but it was the right decision. Slowly, her labored breath grew less frantic while her heartbeat skipped in fits and starts, urging her to join him.
He smiled briefly, the one he used when he was about to tease her. The sight so familiar and comforting it reminded her of home and the sun on a summer day. When she caught his gaze, his eyes glimmered with a sensual magnetism that compelled her forward, but riveted to the spot, she lacked the ability to move toward him.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” His brows drew together in a line.
“I can’t”—she struggled for the right phrase, for the correct words, for anything—“marry unless you understand all the ramifications of what I discovered today in Chelmsford—”
“You can.” Michael threw aside the velvet spread and rose from the opposite side of the bed. He turned toward the wall with his backside facing her, leaving March with a clear view of his naked body. The muscles in his back rippled with his movements. Unable to tear her gaze away, she studied every line of his form as her heart hammered against her ribs. Wide shoulders narrowed into strong hips. His perfectly formed buttocks tensed as he reached for his banyan.
The air around her grew heavy and locked her into place. There was no need for the forced captivity. She could watch him all day. With wide eyes, she consumed him with her gaze. Michael was perfect.
She shook her head to clear the spell that held her enthralled. With a turn, she faced the ebony door and rested her forehead against it. The smooth wood comforted the fever that had swept through her. She wore only the dressing gown the duchess had given her. When she’d finished her bath, she’d searched for her nightgown, but it was missing. The maid must have snatched it up along with the rest of the laundry. Servants acting as lady’s maids were still a foreign concept to her. Now because she’d carelessly left her nightgown next to the clothes she’d worn today, she was practically as naked as he was.
“I apologize for interrupting you.” As if it were perfectly normal she’d be addressing the door, she continued, “It can wait until morning.”
Mortified, she wanted to melt into the woodwork. She’d ogled him as if he were a sweet treat especially prepared for her. Eyes closed, she fumbled to find the door handle.
Suddenly, warm fingers laced with hers. Like a phantom, he’d reached her side without making a sound.
“You can interrupt me anytime.” His warm breath tickled her ear, while he pressed his hot body against hers. “Anywhere.”
Caught between the cool wood and Michael, she should escape.
Thank goodness “shoulds” carried less weight than “wants.”
As if demanding her to stay, his scent of evergreen mixed with pure male, covered her—no, marked her. She inhaled deeply.
He nudged her ear with his nose. “If you’re planning on breaking our betrothal after only two hours, I’ll kiss you senseless until you renege,” he whispered.
With their fingers still clasped, he wrapped their arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She was helpless when a slow throb pulsed in her belly. With no hesitation, she leaned her head against his shoulder. In a rare feat, he made her feel small and feminine.
Cherished.
“What shall I do to convince you that our marriage is a wise decision?” he murmured. He turned her to face him and their eyes met. Never breaking their gaze, he leaned close, rested his elbow against the door, and framed her with his body.
He tenderly touched his lips against hers. He demanded nothing. When she tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away slightly.
“I want this marriage. Let me try to persuade you that I’m the perfect man for you,” he hummed.
She could only nod in response.
“I’m very effective with my arguments.” He kissed her again and gathered her in his arms. Chest to chest and leg to leg, their bodies fit together perfectly. His untied banyan had fallen open, and his hot chest burned through her dressing gown. Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples tightened into peaks as he finally, and thankfully, deepened the kiss.
She wrapped her arms around him, and a slight sigh escaped her when his hands caressed a path down her back, the touch mesmerizingly slow. Somehow, her dressing gown had come untied. She gasped at the shock of his smooth skin against hers. In response, he growled. His tongue tangled with hers in an erotic dance, one he was teaching her.
One hand grazed her breast in the barest of teasing touches. She moaned in protest, and he chuckled. He traced the taunt nipple with one finger, then stepped away. Holding her hand in front of him, Michael allowed his gaze to sweep down the length of her body.
After an eternity, his gaze caressed her. Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers. His dilated pupils were huge, but it was the sight of his erection that caused her breath to hitch. Its hard length mesmerized her. A drop of his essence leaked, and in the candlelight, it glistened.
She chanced a glance at his face. His nostrils flared as he watched her. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you dance in the attic with your court dress.”
He kissed her cheek, then trailed his lips across her neck, then lower. Her breath caught at his touch. Tenderly, he sucked one nipple into his mouth while he gently kneaded the other. The feel of his lips and hot tongue, alluring and tormenting at the same time, churned her desire. Like a puppet on a string, she reacted to his every touch, and her center tightened in response. The room faded from view. She was only aware of his mouth and the bristles of his evening beard brushing against the sensitive skin of her breasts, bewitching her more with his magic.
He glanced up. The lazy smile he delivered was spellbinding. There was no need for words. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
As if worshipping her body, he knelt before her, then trailed his mouth down her abdomen. Framing her hips with his hands, he kissed her in the most secret of places. With his mouth on her, he licked through her folds until he found her sensitive nub. Her eyes fluttered when his tongue circled her clitoris.
Her body was embarrassingly wet from her desire. Thinking he would be horrified, she shifted to escape. He gently pulled her back, then captured her gaze.
“Don’t you like this?” He pressed a slight kiss in the valley where her hip meet her leg, then studied her.
“I do, but…” God, how could she even discuss this? “I’m…”
He cocked his head, and the uncertainty in his eyes tugged at her heart. “You’re what?”
She closed her eyes, and heat bludgeoned her cheeks. “I’m wet,” she whispered.
“I know. Look at me,” he commanded, his voice gentle but unyielding.
She did as directed.
His eyes flashed, and a devilish grin suddenly appeared. “I’m wild about it.” He grasped her hand and laced their fingers together. “Don’t be embarrassed. You excite me. Here’s the proof.” He waved his other hand at the hard length of his erection. “Let me take care of you?”
Without letting go, he rested their entwined hands on her hip and proceeded to pleasure her. The splendid slow sweep of his tongue against her center teased and taunted her unmercifully. Sparks of pleasure burned through her. The sensation increased and built to a point she didn’t know if she’d survive. Uncertain whether she could stand of her own volition, she grabbed his hair with her other hand to keep from falling. As if pleased, he squeezed her hand, the one he held.
He continued the sweet caresses and kisses, sweeping her into a wonderfully mindless world. His touch, his mouth on her body, and his gentle strength overwhelmed her. At this point, she wanted more. The pleasure he gave was not only relentless, but also addictive.
Soon, every nerve stood on edge ready to explode. She labored for breath and tried to rein in the effect he had on her, but soft mewling sounds escaped. She’d never experienced anything this fantastic before. Like a feral animal, her response bucked to be set free. When her body reached its peak, she let go and fell completely into the passion he’d created.
Slowly, she awoke from the sensual dream. Without realizing it, she was gently running her fingers through his hair. When he pulled away from her to stand, he took her hand and kissed it.
“You’re even more beautiful when you come,” he whispered. His lips touched hers, and she could taste herself. No dream and desire she’d ever experienced could compare with the giving lover before her.
Like a gust of wind clearing the winter leaves, his enchantment eliminated her concerns. She would marry him.
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered.
As if the tethers holding her in place suddenly released, she allowed her decision to take charge. Whether her heart had completely defeated all doubt in her mind made little difference. It was all so perfectly clear. Everything she needed and wanted was with Michael.
She grasped his hand and led him to bed. The warmth of his fingers against hers encouraged her to face the chill of the linen bedding. They both shed their robes and climbed onto the master platform bed. Instinctively, she moved closer to him when he lay beside her.
As he pulled her tight against him, the soft sound of his chuckle swept across her. “You’re a determined thing when you make a decision.”
“Yes,” she whispered. It was difficult to keep the wonderment out of her voice when a bare chest was right in front of her eyes for her viewing pleasure.
Michael trailed his fingers through her hair, combing it while soothing her. “Your soft tresses belie your hair’s underlying strength. Just like you.” He pulled a thick curl to his face and brushed it across his cheek. The movement brought her mouth close to his, and he brushed his lips across hers.
She released a ragged sigh. She was in deep and wanted to go to the bottom.
“Kiss me,” he whispered. Almost a plea, his words caused her to shiver.
She ducked her head against his neck. His scent enticed her closer. God, she wanted it to cover her like the heat from his body. She trailed her lips across the sharp angle of his jaw until she found his square chin.
“Kiss me,” he growled in response, but he didn’t attempt to take her mouth with his.
She ignored his command and gently placed her lips on the dimple of his chin, the one that had fascinated her since she first met him.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” His eyes blazed. With a swift turn, he twisted with her in his arms until he loomed over her, forcing her onto her back with her head against his pillow.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” she softly demanded in return.
He rested on one elbow and with his other hand played with her hair. His piercing gaze made her believe he saw every crevice of hope and longing in her being. “I’ve always kissed you. Now, your turn.” With that last statement, he lifted one perfect eyebrow in challenge. “We are to be married if you remember.”
His encouragement was the sweetest seduction. She dipped her gaze to the smooth skin of his chest. The perfect flow of muscles, sinew, and chiseled planes would have kept any artist spellbound. As a simple sheep farmer, what chance did she have to resist? None. So she reached for his broad shoulders. His skin twitched beneath her hands in response.
“Kiss me, I’m begging you.” His deep gravel tone reminded her of a smoke-infused whisky—sharp but mellow at the same time. Yet, there was a hint of vulnerability, a longing. One that made her believe she was the only woman who could soothe and love him the way he deserved.
She pressed her lips against his in a gentle touch of yearning. He rewarded her with a groan that vibrated through every part of her. In answer, her pulse pounded, and her body throbbed once again. She’d happily surrender all her reservations to this night and to him.
He deepened the kiss, and she sighed in response. His tongue coaxed and petted hers, then withdrew. She whimpered at the loss. Without preamble, her lips played with his and her tongue slid across his full lips. Pulling her tighter as if never wanting to let go, he groaned again and let her inside. Her tongue swept and explored until both were out of breath.
With his chest heaving, Michael pulled away and stared down at her. She would give him everything if he’d just keep kissing her. The tenderness in his expression was like a caress, one that made her aware of his every breath and every inch of skin where they touched. The beauty of it was almost incomprehensible. Even the air surrounding them seemed to shimmer with unspoken words of tenderness and love.
Such emotion could easily replace the need for actual nourishment. She could live off his attentions and kindness and never crave anything else in her life. No wonder these feelings held such power over a person.
He cupped her face gently, and the splay of his fingers against her cheeks made her breath catch. Gently, he trailed those same fingers down her neck, causing her nipples to harden in anticipation. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll die if you don’t touch me.” He made her believe she was truly precious.
“We can’t have any of that, can we?” he whispered as he slid his knuckles across her nipples.
Wanting more, she arched her back. The slide of his fingers against her bare skin made heat flash outward from her body as if struck by an uncontrollable force of nature.
He rose above her, and his breath caught. A look of awe crossed his face. “Oh, darling, look how beautiful you are.” He cupped one breast, then nestled the underside with his mouth. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensation to take control.
Each kiss, each stroke, each graze of his teeth caused a new restlessness within her. She’d experienced desire before, but this was different. This was hunger, one only he could satisfy. She stroked his back as if playing an instrument. The slide of her fingers down his skin made each muscle contract. His response to her touch made her want him more. As if he knew what she wanted, he slid his body over hers.
She spread her legs, and he settled his hips against hers. Hot, hard, and unbelievably large, his erection slid through her folds. She cried out, then stilled. It took every piece of willpower she possessed not to angle herself to take him. He quit attending to her sensitive breasts and gazed into her eyes.
“My God,” he whispered. “You’re ready to come again.” The shock was evident on his face, but he recovered quickly. His fingers lightly danced over her abdomen and slid through her nether curls until he touched her sensitive nub. She bucked in response.
Yes, that was what she needed. Instead of saying the words, she moaned and lifted her hips as if offering him anything and everything if he’d just continue to touch her there.
“Darl—” He broke off and closed his eyes. He inhaled and held his breath. Slowly, he released it. He took possession of her mouth with his tongue mating hers. Her taste still lingered, and she reveled in it.
He continued to kiss her until he took her hand and placed it on his erection. “Feel me. I want you so much I’m in agony.”
The hot, hard length throbbed in her hand as his pulse pounded through the thick vein that twined around the underside. She traced the silken head in her hand. On instinct, she gently squeezed, and he hissed. Her gaze shot to his, and he smiled as if encouraging her to continue. She released a ragged breath as the sensation of different textures of touch, scents, and sights curled into smoky clouds in her head.
He laced their fingers together and raised her hands over her head where he rested his elbows next to hers. He nudged her nose with his. “We don’t have—”
“Yes, we do,” she whispered. She took possession of his mouth just as he’d done to her earlier. He shifted slightly, and his cock barely entered her.
Inside, she could feel her muscles clenching for more—more of him. She moaned his name as her body prepared for release. With infinite care, his mouth brushed hers and, inch by inch, he moved inside her.
With his girth, she had expected to be uncomfortable. Instead, her body hungered for more of the exquisite fullness that he was giving her.
“Put your legs around my hips,” he whispered, never taking his lips from hers.
She did as instructed and lifted her hips. Swiftly, he seated himself fully. She felt a pinch and jerked in reaction.
“All right?” His gaze locked with hers. A longing gleamed from the blue depths of his own that made her feel revered like a divine and rare creature in his safekeeping.
She nodded and hoped he could see the trust and love she felt for him. Such an exquisite being, and she was going to marry him. He kissed her again and started to move slowly away. She groaned in protest, but he entered her again.
The pleasure built into a force that fed itself. It became stronger and faster until all she could do was hold him close. His hands gripped the sides of her head as he studied her. Slight trickles of sweat streamed down both sides of his face, so she brushed them away. Each time, he kissed her hand or her fingers—whatever was in his reach.
What they’d created continued to gather strength. Every touch and move became a force she could no longer harness. Finally, her pleasure took control of all of her senses. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes, and she whispered his name. Inside, her body clenched his as if never letting him go. With a final thrust, he groaned as his seed filled her.
Their joint release continued in waves. He buried his head in her neck and repeated her name over and over as if in prayer. She’d never felt closer to another being in her entire life. Slowly, their breathing calmed as she stroked his neck, down his muscular back to his taut buttocks, and then reversed the pattern while the sound of his heartbeat echoed in her ear.
If she never had to leave his arms, it would be too soon.
He pressed his lips against her cheek. As if luck was against her, he rose from the bed, then crossed the room to a small pitcher and basin where he dunked a linen towel in water. Suddenly shy and unsure, she quietly stood and donned her dressing gown.
He walked back to her with a surprising frown replacing his easy smile. “Is something amiss?”
She shook her head and chanced a glance his way. “I’m not certain what I should do.”
In a move even the most experienced dancer would appreciate, he dropped to his knees once again. She knew him well enough to know he’d never be a humble supplicant. Before she could protest, he unbelted her gown and pressed his lips one the slight curve of her abdomen. “Stay with me.”
Her mind stilled at his words, but her heart beat frantically, trying to reach the spot where he kissed her. With hooded eyes, he gazed at her, then turned his attention to her body. With utter tenderness, he cleaned her, stroking the linen against her inner thighs. Stains of red marred the perfect white of the cloth. For once, such a sight didn’t bother her. When he finished his ministrations, he kissed her leg again before proceeding to the other side. At his touch, her breasts tightened as if he were making love to her once more.
Slowly, he stood and tended to himself before he washed the cloth again to remove any evidence that they’d been together. When he returned to her side, he pulled her into his arms. “Will you sleep with me?”
She nodded and relaxed into his embrace.
“Did I hurt you?” He pressed a kiss against the top of her head.
“Never.” She tilted her head back so she could meet his gaze. “It was everything I dreamed it would be.”
A true genuine smile broke across his face, lending him an exceedingly happy but very satisfied expression. “Come to bed.”
She pressed a kiss against his heart. Soon, they were nestled next to each other with his hand stroking her hip. They whispered things to each other about everything and anything.
Eventually, his rhythmic breathing told her he’d fallen asleep. Instead of joining him in slumber, her mind refused to quiet, and her earlier worry and tension returned. How could she marry him with all the upheaval in her life?
The fire snapped and blazed in answer. Instead of worrying, she should determine the extent of the damage and see if she could rectify it herself. She’d make an accounting of every pound she’d embezzled and the same for her expenditures, then she’d divide it into estate management, household, and personal expenditures.
At least her mind could concentrate on something besides worries that she had no answers to.
* * *
When McCalpin stepped into his study in the wee hours of the morning, he found March huddled over his desk, sound asleep. With a single candle flickering beside her, she appeared so alone that his heart lurched. Biting cold, the kind that reached inside you and took hold like a rabid dog, permeated the room. She’d wrapped herself with a fur cover from one of two sofas that framed the fireplaces.
He stoked the fire and fed several logs until the room, or at least the area surrounding the sofas, was toasty warm. It’d make the perfect place to hold her while she slept. He might suffer from the heat, but he wanted her comfortable and safely ensconced within his arms.
He approached to pick her up, then suddenly stopped. Not only were the McCalpin Manor books open, but also the McCalpin House books he’d brought with him when he traveled to find her. They surrounded March as if she were holding court.
Pieces of vellum where she’d written columns and tables of numbers were stuck between the pages. Scrap sheets where she had added amounts lay partially hidden beneath her arms. She’d remembered to cap the inkstand but her quill lay beside her as if waiting for her to resume whatever she’d been doing.
She stirred then blinked her eyes several times at the fire. Slowly, she turned. When she recognized him, her mouth twisted into a sleepy smile, the effect so powerful he wondered if she’d drugged him. All he could do was reach for her.
He stopped, suddenly frozen, but his blood burned like fire. The one book that held all his secrets lay under her hands.
“Michael.” The remnants of sleep colored her words.
“What are you doing at my desk?” She flinched as if he’d hurt her, and immediately, he regretted the curt words.
“I couldn’t sleep. All I could see in my mind were numbers regarding the purchases and withdrawals I’d made over the last several months. I—I needed to determine how much money I’d taken.” She shrugged her shoulders as if defeated. “I wanted a list of each expenditure along with its purpose.”
“Why are my estate books open?”
“I needed a distraction and thought I could help with the bookkeeping.”
He reached for the book that would expose his deepest shame, then stopped stock-still when her hand covered his.
“I know,” she whispered.
“Exactly what?” Much like that fateful day when Will’s hand covered his, time screeched to a halt. He almost sneered, but thankfully, with the slimmest of willpower he held himself in check. It was the natural reaction whenever anyone came close to discovering his problem, but it was completely inappropriate for March. For God’s sake, she would be his marchioness soon.
“Your difficulty with numbers.” Her face glowed in the candlelight, but her eyes made his heart tumble in his chest. Tender without any judgment or condemnation, they melted into his.
He plowed a hand through his hair and exhaled. Never before had he ever laid every weakness he possessed at someone’s feet. God, the ability to share this failure, this defect, would be so freeing. To explain how frustrated it made him would lift the heavy burden he’d carried all his life. She would listen. He only prayed she wouldn’t condemn him.
He took a deep breath and relaxed. Nay, she wouldn’t judge him.
“Let’s sit by the fire.” He tugged her from the chair and swept her into his arms. She uttered an endearing feminine yelp that was perfectly charming. When he settled her on his lap, she rested her head against his shoulder.
“I’ll try not to make the story boring.”
“Nothing you could ever say to me would be the least bit boring.” She leaned and captured his gaze. “I want to know everything.”
He escaped her stare only to study the fire. It made it easier. “It became apparent to me that I was an idiot with numbers early on. My old governess had railed at my lack of abilities. She even told me that I should be relieved of my responsibilities as the heir to my father.”
Her eyes narrowed in pain as she she gently squeezed his hand in comfort. “How horrible. I hope she was dismissed.”
“She was … because of William. But by then, Will and Emma had surpassed me in their mathematical prowess. Thankfully, my parents replaced her with a kind tutor who didn’t punish or rail at me when I struggled with assignments.”
“You’re one of the most intelligent and empathetic men I’ve ever known. But it must have been difficult to see your siblings surpass you.” With her hand, March turned his face until she held his gaze once again. “Go on.”
The nurturing gentleness in her tone encouraged him to exhale his trepidation. “I am the mighty Langham ducal heir, and I couldn’t add a column of numbers together successfully.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes at the painful memories. “I was so ashamed. My tutor tried everything, but nothing worked. Every time I had a problem or equation to solve, I was off by one. If the answer were five, I’d find it as six. If it was subtraction and the answer was thirty-six, I’d solve it as thirty-five. If it was a fraction, heaven help me. It was as if my brain played nasty tricks on me.”
His throat tightened as the familiar panic gripped him, as if he was struggling with calculations now. He shook his head to banish such wicked thoughts and glanced at her.
She stroked her fingers along his cheeks, the touch soft and reassuring. “How did you hide it at school?”
“It was Eton.” He grunted with a sound that belied his disgust with himself. “Not much is expected of ducal heirs. I either canceled the exam or went home. Sometimes I wrote a note informing them I was ill and refused to take the exam.”
March nodded as she continued to offer comfort. “Did your parents ever address it with you?”
“They never raised it, and neither did I. I thought if I didn’t admit it, then I wasn’t a failure.” He exhaled with difficulty as a vise of shame tightened around his chest. “I exceeded all their expectations in my other subjects. In logic, literature, history, even languages, I received top marks. No one ever questioned my ability in mathematics. I believe they just assumed I excelled in that subject also.” He cleared his throat of its thickness again.
“Michael.” The soft whisper was as soothing as a caress. “You’ve never been a failure. You’re as brilliant as the sun.”
“I disagree, my beauty.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek. “That’s why you always see William with me. He plays the role as advisor to me, but really he’s reviewing the accounts and investments.” He chanced a glance her way. “That’s why he was so pointed in his questions to you. He’s protective of me.”
“Even though he’s skeptical and quite annoying at times, I’m finding he’s one of my favorite people in your family.” She reached out and brushed away an errant lock of hair that had fallen onto his brow. “But if you ever tell him such, I’ll deny it.”
The simple touch caused something to melt inside of him, a piece he’d kept frozen deep inside, one he believed he’d never share with anyone.
He bit his lip as he fought to find the right words. As an honorable man, he had to ask if she still wanted to marry him. What a lark that was. How honorable had he been last night? He’d taken her virginity, thus leaving her stranded with him. He’d never let her go now. She was his completely.
“I should have confessed before I made love to you.” Holding her gaze, he waited for the disgust to cross her beautiful face. “I’m afraid you don’t have any choice now. You’ll have to marry me.”
March shook her head and bit her lower lip. “Have I ever told you how crazed you make me sometimes?” She pressed her hands against his cheeks. “You glorious foolish man. I love you. This changes nothing for me. I want to marry you.”
Her dark copper eyes never looked away from his as she waited. She’d just confessed her love, and he stared, unable to repeat them back. What was wrong with him? She meant more to him than words could even express. He’d never shared so much of himself with another person, not even the members of his own family, yet he couldn’t say those three words back to her.
“I didn’t say that so you’d repeat it in return.” She brushed her lips against his, then regarded him. “Thank you for sharing so much of yourself with me.”
He blinked, not knowing what to say. She was all things lovely and beautiful. His instincts had been spot-on. “You’ll make a marvelous marchioness. Someday, you’ll make a devastating duchess.”
“I hope in the distant future. I owe your parents so much.” She released a ragged sigh. “May I tell you what I discovered in your account books and investment records?”
“With what I’ve just shared, you’ll have to go slow.”
She nodded briskly. “Every book and record has been meticulously managed except for one.”
“It’s my practice account,” he interrupted. “I try to improve my skills with the household account book. There are two. One for me and one for the housekeeper. It’s the simplest account to try to balance.”
Her brilliant smile broke through her pursed lips. “Your threes look like reversed E’s and your fours look like upside-down h’s. Your handwriting is distinctive. That’s how I learned…”
“That I’m an id—”
“Please, don’t. I’ll not listen.” March attempted to get off his lap, but he was faster and grabbed her hips.
He secured her to his lap once again. “Please, go on, sweetheart.”
“After I finished with your account, I started on the others. I’ve been through every one.”
“Every one?” He drew his brows together. She couldn’t have accomplished that. It took William two days to review every account and investment attached to McCalpin Manor and McCalpin House. Many of them were complicated investment portfolios tied to the Langham Duchy.
She tilted her head in challenge. “Every single one.”
It was a pleasure to surrender to her. She could teach him things about managing an estate and, in return, he could teach her all the things they could do in bed.
And out of it.
Completely oblivious to his thoughts, she continued, “Someone has deliberately understated the returns on your personal investments. When you compare Lord Somerton’s correspondence on investment returns, they aren’t the same numbers in the accounting books. In addition, the estate books have entries for expenditures that have either been increased by adding a zero or marked out completely with an increased amount written above.”
Keenly interested in understanding her explanation, he nodded for her to proceed.
“For instance, last month, you acquired a draught horse. The expenditure was initially marked as twenty-five pounds, then a zero was added. Two sheep were purchased for seventy-two pence. The amount was crossed out and seven pounds, two pence replaced it. No one would likely notice these changes on a daily basis, but if you look at it over the last several months, there’s a pattern.”
He exhaled his frustration. Not just at the numbers floating in the air, but more importantly, someone was stealing from him, and he’d had no idea. He never checked the books himself. Even William didn’t catch the errors.
“Plus, the entries in your household account don’t match the housekeeper’s account. Someone has manipulated the numbers there too.” She narrowed her eyes. “Thank heavens you had the foresight to maintain another book. Otherwise, I’m not certain anyone would have caught the modifications. By my calculations, there’s at least a five-thousand-pound discrepancy.”
She walked to his desk, then returned with one of the account books. She opened it to a marked page and pointed at one account entry. “See the sevens and ones? They’re distinctive. Dashes or serifs slash the middle of the sevens. The ones have serifs at the top. Whoever is manipulating the books has a unique writing style.”
Even he could understand what she was stating, but it was difficult to believe someone would deliberately try to steal from him.
“Are you suggesting William or a member of my staff is stealing from me?” The fire hissed as if it found his question unbelievable.
Such an incredulous thought made his insides twist in a knot that he doubted would ever untangle. These people had been with him, if not for all, then for the majority of his life. The staff at McCalpin House had served him and his uncle faithfully for years. William’s dishonesty was not something worth considering.
“Of course not,” she answered with assurance, then wrinkled her nose in the adorable way that always reminded him of how they first met in his study.
“Wouldn’t the annual audit find the discrepancies?”
“I can’t answer that as I don’t know how your staff manages such a task,” she answered. “I could certainly ask William what he suggests.”
“Excellent idea.” He nodded in agreement and tugged her tighter to him.
With a yawn, she didn’t resist and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“We’ll finish our discussion tomorrow. Let’s go to bed,” he whispered. He took the book from her hands and placed it on the sofa.
She stood. Together hand in hand, they made their way back to his bedchamber where he made love to her again. In the dawn, he lay with her warm lush body nestled next to his. He realized he’d never have enough of her in his days, his nights, his bed, and most importantly, his life.
Luck had a strange way of turning an obstacle into good fortune. Who would have thought that his beautiful embezzler would be such a wonderful ally and a strong partner for him? Someday he’d thank her for forging his signature.