Only an Earl Will Do (18 page)

“Oh, lass, that feels so good.”

A wicked smile quirked her lips, and he was lost. He ripped his frontfalls completely open, the sound of material ripping loud in the quiet room. Elizabeth giggled and gasped when he lifted her, placing her hot, wet, and more-than-ready core against his cock.

She bit her lip as he lowered her upon him. Henry breathed deep, clenching his jaw as her tight, hot core anchored around him. She was magnificent. To see her lips open on a sigh of pleasure and her eyes glaze over with wonder, would’ve tumbled him to the floor had he been standing. How he loved her, adored her, would cherish her for the rest of their lives.

Elizabeth ran a finger over his lips, watching him intently. “I love you, Henry.” Her whispered words were the sweetest melody he’d ever heard.

“Blast it, lass! Ye would tempt an angel to sin.” And he wanted to sin with her, whenever and wherever she’d allow. He took her harder than he ought, but by the sounds of her delectable gasps, her fingers that dug into his shoulders, her breathlessness told him she was more than accepting of the situation.

He knew the moment her orgasm was upon her. Her legs clasped him tight, her fingers clutched for support as she fought against a release that would consume them both. Henry clasped her waist, pulling her down on him hard, deepening their connection, giving no quarter, and she shattered.

Elizabeth shouted his name, and he stifled the sound with a kiss, pumping until his own pleasure pulsed through his body and they were left, breathless, joined and consumed in passion.

They stayed clasped tightly in each other’s arms for a time. It was no difficulty to do so, but with the fire having burned down to coal, the cooling night air made its presence known. He stood, lifting her and carrying her to his bed.

She dozed, an odd, contented quirk to her lips as he joined her beneath the blankets, pulling her snug against his chest.

“I should probably return to my room,” she mumbled, but not moving.

He clasped her tighter, kissing her neck. “In the morn will be soon enough. I want ye here with me tonight and nowhere else.”

Elizabeth turned her head and looked back at him. “Thank you.”

He frowned. “For what?”

She clasped his arm tighter about her tummy and turned away. “For being everything I’d always hoped you would be.”

Henry smiled. “We’ve only just begun, lass.”

“Hmm,” she said, sighing contently. “I love the sound of that.”

Chapter Seventeen

The week they spent at Newland Estate was one of the most romantic and best times Elizabeth could think of up to that point in her life. Samuel took to Henry and his enthusiasm for life, for fun and laughter, and her heart swelled knowing that at least in some small measure, Henry would be a part of the boy’s life, if not as his known father, but at least as the custodian of him. It was not what she’d wanted, but under the circumstances it was all that was possible and, should Henry know the truth, Elizabeth was sure he would understand. Someday…

They had traveled back to London together, not taking any heed of the fact. No more would she be scrutinized by the ton and their law or by Riddledale. They would gain the letter back and be done with the blaggard so Henry and she could live the life that should always have been theirs.

The night of Lord Riddledale’s ball for his sister’s coming out was one the ton would never forget. His lordship had outdone himself to please his sister and promote to the ton that he was a marquis to be reckoned with. The room was lit with hundreds of wax candles in gold and silver chandeliers that cast an abundance of light on the guests below, their jewels and gowns sparkling like hundreds of stars.

The parquetry floor, waxed to perfection, shone in the room, and small, scalloped-legged chairs sat before each window that had its own nook so not to take any space away from the gathered guests and the dancers beyond.

His lordship’s London home was beautiful, oozed old money, but that was where the prettiness ended. The lord of the manor himself was as vile as a cesspit, and the sooner Elizabeth and Henry held what rightfully belonged to them in the palms of their hands, the better.

Her brother escorted Elizabeth and her three sisters to the ball and, finding other acquaintances of theirs, helped thread them through the guests to where they could watch the ton at play. The ballroom was full to capacity, the strains of a quadrille playing, the dancers laughing and moving about the room with enjoyment.

They had planned the night and how they would go about getting into his lordship’s library to steal the letter. The first part of the plan was to assume the guise of guest, merely here for enjoyment and dancing. Keeping up the appearance of a guest, Elizabeth danced first with Lord Kinruth and then the second, a country dance with Viscount Boxley, both of whom were attentive partners, but they weren’t the man she sought to see.

Casting her gaze over those present she was yet to see Henry, and her stomach knotted wondering if something had occurred to keep him from attending. And then a prickling of awareness shivered across her nape, and she turned to see the very man himself, the man she loved beyond anything she’d ever known, standing idly against the wall beside the terrace doors, his attention locked on her.

His roguish dark looks and height made him taller than most of the guests here, and her heart somersaulted in her chest at the sight of him. Heat pooled at her core, and she fought not to blush, remembering all the delectable things he’d done to her while in Wiltshire. All the exquisite touches that left her chasing after him for more of the same like the lovesick fool she was.

She’d acted quite the determined minx.

“Are you well, Lady Newland? I can take you onto the terrace if you’re a little warm.” Lord Boxley’s words brought her out of her musings, and she shook her head, smiling. “No, I’m very well, thank you, but perhaps a drink would be welcome.”

Lord Boxley obtained her a glass of champagne, gesturing to the crowd. “What a lovely turnout for Lord Riddledale’s sister’s coming out. Nothing like a celebration of coming of age.”

Elizabeth listened with half interest. “Yes, quite.” He escorted her to her sister Alice, and she took the opportunity to speak to a few guests while stepping toward a large potted palm she’d spied. The position gave her a good vantage point for watching Henry without being too obvious.

He was so handsome and sweet. He was everything one ought to look for in a husband, and by the admiring glances he received from the ladies present, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Jealousy pinched at her, but she pushed the stupid thought aside. Henry was hers. They’d promised themselves to each other. Nothing would tear them apart again. Ever.

“He is not for you, Lady Newland,” a mocking voice stated matter of fact beside her.

Elizabeth fought not to lose her temper and flay the man alive before his guests. “What I do and think in my life is, and will always be, my choice, Lord Riddledale. You of all people should know this of me by now.” Elizabeth moved to return to her sister, and a strong hand shot out and clasped her arm, ripping her back beside him. Elizabeth pulled at his hold without success.

“I see your Scottish earl has disappeared. What a shame my presence has caused you to lose sight of him.”

Elizabeth looked to where she’d seen Henry last and frowned, noting him gone. She cast a look about the ballroom and couldn’t see his tall frame standing out above everyone else. “Lord Muir is his own person. I do not own him, and he may go wherever he likes at a ball.”

His lordship’s chuckle sounded mocking. “I heard the gentlemen were partaking in billiard contests this evening. Perhaps there is a game afoot that you may be interested in.”

Elizabeth pulled at his clasp once more and was relieved when he let her go. “I’m not interested in billiards.” All she wished was to take back the letter that was hers by right and leave a home she never wished to see again.

He waggled his finger before her face, and she looked away. Never in her life had she known such a prig of a man. “Perhaps you ought to take an interest, my lady.” He strolled away, throwing one last smile over his shoulder before disappearing from view.

Elizabeth frowned over Lord Riddledale’s words. She looked about the room once more, trying to seek out Henry with little success. Disappointment washed over her and with it a dose of fear when Mr. Andrews, Henry’s cousin, walked past without his ever-present sister trailing behind.

She chastised herself for thinking Miss Andrews was wherever Henry was. They were cousins, friends, even if Elizabeth couldn’t stomach the woman for more than five minutes. But Henry loved and adored
her.
She would not allow Lord Riddledale’s words over Henry’s absence make her think the worst of a man she trusted beyond anyone else in the world.

Why then, only minutes later she found herself seeking out this billiards room was anyone’s guess. It was certainly not the niggling concern that Riddledale was trying to warn her of something. Never that. She was just interested in what the men were up to with their competition, and to see if Henry had partaken in such games and was enjoying the night.

…

Henry walked about the ball and talked with as many people as he could, talked of horseflesh, politics, Scotland, anything he could think of. He kept tabs on where Riddledale was at any one moment, of where his lordship’s library was located, and if he’d had the room locked for the duration of the ball, which he had not.

Supper was not far off, and he was thankful for it. To watch Elizabeth swirl about the dance floor with another English toff would be too much even for him. But tonight they were both playing roles, to gain what they’d come here for, to best Riddledale at his own sick game.

Not for the first time tonight, the lure of her deep green gown of silk that brought out the fierce color of her eyes tempted him to pull her into a darkened room, slip it from her body, and enjoy each other as thoroughly as they had in Wiltshire. Her golden locks, coiled high on her head, accentuated her cheekbones and sensuous mouth. The thrum that tonight was the start of their future pumped through his veins. From this night forward, Riddledale wouldn’t be an issue in their life, and rightfully so. They would marry and return to Scotland, bring up Samuel to be a well-adjusted young lord and, God willing, have more children.

After seeing Elizabeth with Samuel, all he’d thought about was having children with the lass. She was a loving mother, and from her son’s adoration of his parent, he wanted their children to have the same upbringing as well. She was perfect for him; she was, in fact, a woman without faults, and he adored her.

“Excuse me, my lord. This has arrived for you.”

Henry pulled from his musings and remembered to thank the footman before breaking the seal of the missive. He frowned at the note, which sported only his first name and no address. He looked up and checked Elizabeth’s location. She was still alone, her attention fixed on the dancing couples.

He read the missive quickly, the blood in his veins warming at the impending delight the words brought forth in his mind. He excused himself from the few gentlemen gathered around him and made his way to the private sitting room adjacent to the billiards room as asked within the note. Muffled voices of gentlemen and a few ladies sounded behind the closed adjoining door. Henry walked over to the fire, kicked at a smoking log, and prepared to wait for his guest.

At the sound of the door handle twisting, he turned; the lighted hall illuminated the woman before the cover of the darkened room shrouded her features.

“Are you lost, Miss Andrews?” he asked, having not expected her.

Her chuckle raised his unease. “No, far from lost, for I’m here…with you, and quite alone.”

Henry watched Miss Andrews walk toward him, her steps reminding him of a lion’s saunter while hunting its next meal. “You need to leave, Amelia. You’re not chaperoned.”

He stilled as she stood before him, her hand running down his chest. He caught hold of her hand and moved it away from him before she went any further with her touch. Her eyes widened with hurt, and a pang of guilt pricked his soul. There was no denying Amelia was a beautiful woman and would make some chap a wonderful wife one day, but she wasn’t for him. Only one woman would warm his bed, and it was not the lass standing before him.

“But I don’t want to. You’re here, as I knew you would be. Come, Henry, don’t play coy with me now.”

Henry stepped back, unsure why she would say such a thing. “How did ye know I would be in this room?” He frowned as she laughed louder than he liked with men so close next door. The last thing he wished was to be caught in a compromising position with Amelia.

“I received your note. I’m so happy you finally recognize your feelings for me.” Amelia ran a finger along the lapels of his coat. “You must know I’ve wished for such an opportunity as this. For us to be together, to be alone for just a moment.”

“My letter?” Henry paused, dread taking hold. “Miss Andrews, I never sent ye a missive.” Henry watched as she visibly paled and, feeling for the poor chit, he escorted her to the settee before sitting beside her.

“You didn’t?” A small frown marred her normally serene brow.

He shook his head. “No, I did not.” He sighed, wondering what was afoot and who was playing games with them yet again. He could certainly take a good guess. “I fear we have both been tricked for I, too, received a note, but…” His words trailed off, not wanting to let her know of his understanding with Elizabeth. As it was he would hurt the lass, no need to rub salt into her wound here and now.

“But?”

“But it wasn’t addressed from you.”

She leaned back, sighing. “Was it from Lady Newland?” When he didn’t reply, she clasped his hand, patting it. “I cannot deny I’m not disappointed in your choice, for I would’ve loved for you to have picked me as your lass, but one cannot change what one’s heart feels.” She paused. “I wonder who gave us the letters, then. Why play a trick on you and me?”

Henry knew of only one who’d love to see him married and safely away from his English lass. What ruse was this getting them alone other than the one of catching them in a compromising situation… “We should leave. Now.”

Amelia’s hold tightened on his hand, halting his departure. “Have you asked her to marry you yet?”

Henry chuckled at her infectious grin. “I have, and she’s said yes. How did ye know of my affection toward Lady Newland?”

“I knew the first time I saw you with her that you loved her. I cannot deny I’m sorely disappointed, but I know when the game is up.” Amelia smiled and, for the first time in all the time he’d known her, she truly looked beautiful, not spiteful or deceptive, but accepting of the situation, happy for him even. “I wish you all the very best, Henry. I know I have not been the nicest person when around your lady, but it was entirely due to jealousy, you see. I’ve acted shamelessly, and I’m not proud of it. I apologize, and I owe Lady Newland an apology, too.”

“Thank ye, Amelia. I’m grateful for your blessing and friendship, but I should have told you my heart was taken long before ye feelings became engaged. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“May we still be friends?”

“Always,” he said, leaning down and kissing her cheek, pulling her into a short embrace, a farewell between friends.

…

“Oh, forgive me,” Elizabeth said, unable to move from the threshold of the sitting room door, the light from the hallway casting the lovers on the settee in light. She willed her legs to move. To get herself away from where she stood, but the shock of seeing Henry embracing Miss Andrews left her incapable of doing either. Pain tore through her chest, and she stood there transfixed.

“Elizabeth!” Henry said, standing.

“I’m sorry. I was looking for the billiards room. I’ll leave you now.”

“No, wait.” Henry came about the settee and reached for her hand. “This isn’t what it looks like, Elizabeth. I assure ye.”

Elizabeth wrenched her hand free, stepping away, the gulf between them opening larger than the Atlantic Ocean. “Isn’t it? Perhaps you’d like to explain your situation then,” Elizabeth stated, her tone icy.

A muscle worked in Henry’s jaw, and she willed him to tell her what she’d just seen wasn’t true. That he hadn’t been sitting in a darkened room with only firelight, embracing Miss Andrews. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’ve already said that.” She looked at Miss Andrews, and surprised triumph wasn’t written all over her features. “It seems I should offer my congratulations on your forthcoming marriage.”