A Question for Harry (31 page)

He filled her so fully, Fiona could feel it deep in her belly as he flexed his hips and pulled her hard against him
. Over and over he drove into her, their passion as combustible as kerosene, and Fiona was ablaze. She threw her head back, crying out hoarsely as he owned her again and again in a pounding rhythm that sent the flames higher. Tension coiled in her core, hotter and more pleasurable than before. Fiona arched against him as the explosion came and she cried out his name in ecstasy. “Harry! Harry!”

Harry thrust one last time and followed her into the fire. “Ah, my love.”

One hand stroked his damp back, the other fisted in his hair but Fiona was hardly aware of anything beyond the joining of their bodies. His big body pressed against hers from hip to chest, pinning her against the wall. It should have felt oppressive but Fiona only felt euphoria, security … elation. There was something terribly empowering about having a man want you so badly that he lost all control.

She pressed her lips against his warm, damp neck with a sigh of bliss
. “Mmm, that was nice.”

Harry chuckled softly as he bent his head to nuzzle her ear
. “Just nice?”

Fiona breathed out a puff of laughter
, hugging him against her. “Very nice.”

“An understatement, I should say.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Aylesbury carried her back to the sofa, pausing only to kick off his shoes, trousers, and stockings before he sat without breaking the bond between them. Straddling him, Fiona leaned forward, stroking her hands over his chest as she smiled down at him. Tousled, sensual, Aylesbury marveled again at her beauty and at the strength of will that had channeled all her fears and worries into passion for him. Marveled at her tender touch, that ability to rouse him again so easily with such a simple caress. “You are so incredible,” he whispered softly, running his hands up her back and drawing her forward for his kiss.

His tongue teased at her lips, leisurely caressing then deeply exploring
. Fiona hummed with approval, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. Her hair fell over his hands and teased his thighs. Aylesbury raked his finger down her back once more and grasped her hips, pulling her down as he arched his hips against her. Fiona rotated her hips, seating herself more fully as he stirred within her, filling her once more.

“Really?” she whispered against his lips, her eyes meeting his with surprise
. Her hum becoming a purr of delight.

“Yo
u aren’t exactly reluctant.” Aylesbury cupped her silken breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers before lowering his head. Stroking his tongue lightly across the hardened tip, he then drew on it, suckling deeply. Fiona keened in pleasure, arching her back and threading her fingers through his hair to clasp him to her. Her thighs widened and she began a slow rotation of her hips against his.

Turning his at
tention to her other breast, Aylesbury’s hands began to roam over her lithe body, admiring the athletic grace of her supple limbs. Her full, firm breasts. Her sleek muscled thighs and slim hips that moved against him building his passions once more. With the fervent urgency of their first mating contained to embers, he took his time in stoking the fires again. Letting Fiona set the pace.

“Harry?” she whispered as if wondering at his leisure.

“This time is yours, my love. Take it. Control it. Control me.” Fiona’s eyes widened at his words but narrowed in amusement when he added, “If you can, that is.”

A dimple flashed in her cheek as she met his gaze, holding
it as she swiveled her hips once more, arching against him. “Like this?” Triumph blazed in those green depths but Aylesbury couldn’t have held back the throaty growl that escaped him if his life had depended on it. “Or like this?” Fiona undulated against him, stroking him like a velvet glove.

“My God, what did Moira give you to read?” he asked hoarsely.

“Perhaps I will share it with you one day,” she teased and leaned forward to whisper devilishly in his ear. “It has pictures.”

Aylesbu
ry groaned again, digging his fingers into her hips as he leaned his head back against the sofa in surrender. “Why would I need a picture when I have you? My God, but you’re beautiful.” From beneath heavy lids, he watched her move unhurriedly over him, every torturous stroke firing his blood as he strained for control. Waiting for her pleasure, watching as it darkened her eyes. Lips parted, Fiona gasped never taking her eyes from his.

Their lips met again and Aylesbu
ry’s hands dove into her hair, holding her lips to his, her eyes to his as their tongues played. Every breath exhaled in a soft gasp, a moan, until her enraptured cries drove him over the edge, until his blood was pounding in his ears. With a low growl, he grasped her hips and lifted her before urging her back down, surging deeply within her. Fiona’s eyes widened with understanding and delight and she repeated the motion, lifting herself then taking him deeper and deeper as she contracted around him. Then her pace hastened.

“Yes
. Oh, yes,” she gasped as he urged her on, cupping her bottom to lift and release. She tightened around him, her body tensing. Dropping down hard on him, Fiona cried out her release, her thighs quivering. Aylesbury lifted her again and brought her down as he bowed against her and Fiona screamed hoarsely, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Ah, God
.” Her release triggered his, sending a maelstrom of ecstasy surging through him as he peaked, flooding her with his hot seed. Fiona collapsed against his chest and Aylesbury wrapped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek and to the top of her head. “You are everything to me, Fiona. Everything. God, how I love you,” he said huskily, almost inaudibly.

I love you
.
Such inadequate words to describe what he felt. Love did not seem to encompass the raw emotion that enflamed his heart. She was so very alive, and she demanded the same from him. Every moment. The euphoria, the obsession, the need, the want. The laughter, the companionship, the challenge.

Chapter Thirty-Five

From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – May 1895

God forgive me for I know not what I am bloody well doing!

“Harry, I… I…”

Fiona stumbled for a response, tensing in his embrace
. There was so much she wanted to say to him.

“Shh,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the top of her head
. “There is nothing to say. Just let me hold you. I might have lost truly you today if things had gone differently.”

“But it did not.”

“But it may have,” he insisted, lifting her head so that he might meet her eyes. “What would I do?” he asked, giving a voice to the very thoughts she had had of him. “Please do not put yourself in such danger again. I love you too much to lose you. By the way, I have something for you.”

Lifting her off his lap, Aylesbu
ry looked around for and found his jacket, searching the breast pocket before turning back to her. “This is not the setting I had imagined in which to present it. I had pictured a quiet corner at the Ritz, perhaps, but I will have to take opportunity where I can.”

“What is it?” she asked, curious despite herself.

Aylesbury settled her back into his lap and opened his hand to reveal a ring set with a yellow diamond as big as her thumbnail encircled by tiny pearls and silver filigree. Fiona’s eyes widened with surprise and leapt back to his. Aylesbury shrugged casually. “I cannot say all that I might have wished to, as I made you a promise not to ask again.”

“In all fairness, you never asked.”
Fiona looked back at the gorgeous ring with a mischievous smile. “Since I haven’t been asked and therefore been denied the chance to say yes or no, I don’t really know what I would say in any case.”

Aylesbury closed his hand over the ring, nonplused
. “I did ask. Several times, in fact.”

“No,” Fiona countered, shaking her head
. “I heard a lordly statement or two. A near command but no questions requiring a yes or a no.”

“Is that what you’re waiting for
? A grand proposal? Shall I drop to a knee right now?”

Fiona laughed, catching him by the shoulders before he could drop her
on the floor and fall dramatically at her feet. “Not if you want me to say yes.”

“Is there a situation where you would?” he asked softly.

“Perhaps.” Fiona chewed her lip uncertainly. “It might not be while we are sitting naked in your parlor or … Harry, what if I can’t ever say ‘yes’?”

Despite the lack of affirmation, Aylesbury liked how she phrased it
. It sounded far more positive than if she had asked “What if I say no?”

“Then I guess we will just set a record for London’s longest engagement
… and hope that my heir isn’t born someday on the wrong side of the blanket,” he added under his breath. “That would be difficult to explain to your brothers.” Aylesbury held up the ring once more. “Will you wear it?”

“But I still have not agreed to marry you.”

“Did I ask?” he teased, taking up her right hand and slipping the ring on her finger. “Keep it safe here for me, won’t you? It holds no significance there other than a reminder of me, a reminder that I love you and want a future.”

With her, of course.

Running her fingers through his black hair, Fiona bit back a smile.

“
You’ll have to give up your beaux, of course.”

Fiona widened her eyes in mock surprise but answered truthfully, hoping her admission might silently convey what she couldn’t yet put into words
. “I have no beaux but you, Harry,” she said sincerely before the devil in her took hold. “I like them very much, of course, but perhaps no more than you cared for Abby and Moira once upon a time. I love Temple as a brother and Lord Harrowby like a far distant cousin.”

Aylesbury smacked her bottom
with a grimace. “You are never allowed to speak to him again. I won’t have my wife lusting after another man.”

“You don’t own me, Harry Brudenall
! I’m not your wife!” Fiona said, narrowing her eyes on him. “Did you just basically admit to lusting after Moira? Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who said the word, not me. I never said I lusted after Harrowby even if he is as big and gorgeous as a Viking lord and has thighs as–”

With
a groan, Aylesbury pulled her into his arms again and silenced her with a kiss.

“Would you truly think to control me, Harry?  To tell me what I can and cannot do?” Fiona asked pulling away, watching him from beneath her lashes to gauge his response. It was one thing she had never thought to discuss with him. If she were to marry him – in truth she was doing more than merely considering it – would he give her the freedom to be who she was or would he use his rights as her husband to rein her in? Would expect her to be a proper lady as so many aristocrats did?

“Of course not.  I was simply teasing.”

“What if I wanted to play golf more often than not?”

“I would do my best to become a better opponent,” he told her, then glanced down at her with dawning comprehension in his eyes. “A far more serious question than it seems, yes? You are asking if I would begrudge you your amusements… if you were my wife. I wouldn’t do that, Fiona.”

Still, Fiona pursed her lips skeptically. “What if I were to make a career of it, like Miss Pearson?”

“I would never bar you from achieving your ambitions,” he assured her. “Your passion for life is one of the things I love most about you. If it is your aspiration to play professionally, I will applaud your efforts at every green. If it is your greater ambition to travel the globe and play at a different course each week, I suppose I would have to buy a yacht as I abhor the services aboard the larger ships.”

Smiling up at him, Fiona felt the one thing she knew she had been lacking amid the love for Aylesbury blossoming in her heart. Hope. Trust. Perhaps she could have the one thing she had always longed for in life without losing herself along the way. “If I wanted to rally with the suffragettes?”

“I would gladly paint your signs for you,” he said promptly.

Fiona’s dimples flashed, pleased with his answer. “If I wanted to smoke a cigarette?”

Aylesbury made a playful grimace. “I should compel you to try cigars instead.”

Laughter bubbled up in her and she
snuggled against his bared chest, adoring the feel of her flesh pressed against his. “What if I took to wearing trousers each day?”

Brows arching high over his widened eyes, he said in all seriousness. “Would you really? My God, what a delicious thought. I should be all too happy to see that.”

“You’re joshing with me,” Fiona chuckled.

“Not at all,” he said
, running his hand over her hip and around to cup her bottom. “The very thought of seeing your bottom encased in tight trousers is even more tantalizing than the memory of you in your black corset …  Of course, you are rather fine just like this.”

Fiona’s lips curved into a smile.  “How fine?”

Some time later, the parlor darkening with the coming dusk, Fiona sighed sleepily in the circle of Aylesbury’s arms. The sofa had been left behind some time ago and the hard floor, despite the thick rug covering it, was proving painful. “I guess I should go. Francis and Eve and … everyone will be wondering where I am. I can’t begin to imagine what your staff is thinking.”

“You might have thought about that before you locked the door.”

With a pained wince, Fiona rolled out of his arms and climbed to her feet, searching for her clothes. She gathered up her skirt and petticoat, casting about for her undergarment before finding it hung on the flared wing of a side chair. Pushing himself up to the edge of the sofa, Aylesbury watched her for a few moments reading her anxieties and doubts easily enough. Passions spent, Fiona was likely reanalyzing every moment of the afternoon. “Let me take you home then.”

Fiona’s eyes darted from his face down to his bared assets, her cheeks flushing as she shook her head
. “No, no. I can make my own way. It’s just two streets away, after all.”

Ayesbury stood, naked and half aroused
, but Fiona studiously kept her eyes averted, her blush deepening. “With what happened, I could possibly let you go alone.”

“One of the stable lads, then,
” she countered.  She could hardly bare to face her brothers after how she had spent her afternoon.  It would be even harder with Harry by her side.

Reaching for his trousers, Aylesbury jerked them on
. “I will take you.”

“A footman.”

“Me.”

“No, Harry, I
…”

Aylesbury
caught her by the upper arms, stilling her with a little shake as he looked down at her sternly. “I said I will not press you and I meant it but I will not be pushed about like some lackey either. After what happened with Piper, I will always take better care with what I love. And I love you, you infernal woman. God help me,” he muttered under his breath as he turned away to retrieve his shirt and jacket from where they had been flung.

Fiona blinked
hard, realizing that he had misunderstood her reluctance.  Then felt her lips twist before she pressed them together to bite back a laugh. Hardly a peep escaped her but it was enough to recall Aylesbury’s attention. He lifted a supercilious brow as he shrugged on his shirt. “You think this is amusing?”

Something as close to a girlish giggle as Fiona had ever expressed escaped
. “A bit, perhaps.”

Aylesbur
y rolled his eyes and knelt, searching beneath the sofa for his stockings. He confessed his love for the woman and not only did she not reciprocate, she laughed at him!

As if Fiona could read his thoughts, she said just then, “Perhaps next time a young
, impressionable eighteen-year-old Scottish lass professes her love in a moonlit garden, you’ll remember this moment before you break her heart. Rejection is a bitter pill, is it not?”

Stand
ing with a sock in each hand, Aylesbury raised a questioning brow. “Is that what this is? Revenge? Repayment for an ill-considered response prompted, I will remind you, by what was to me an utterly shocking confession?”

“Perhaps just a wee bit
.” Still grinning, Fiona took a step closer, running a hand under his still-open shirt and spreading her palm on his ribs and around his back as she pressed against him. She nipped at the bottom of his chin, licking away the sting while her other hand smoothed over his neck and urged him to look down at her. Her green eyes were dancing with amusement. His were not. “I’m glad you finally love me, Harry. For some reason what you said there, that ‘God help me’ assured me that you truly do as no other words could.”

Still holding his gaze, she caught his lips playfully with hers before her lips parted, deepening the kiss
. Her tongue lightly traced his lower lip as her lashes fluttered and closed. Against his chest, Aylesbury could feel the warm, purring hum that began deep within her, hear it as it was released against his lips. The silken barrier that kept her bare breasts from meeting his chest as she brushed against him caressed and teased until his hands fisted around the stockings he still held and his arms encircled her, crushing her against him and lifting her until even her toes didn’t touch the ground.