The Marquis At Midnight (22 page)

‘Let me go now,’ she whispered, as they made
their way forward, unable to see more than three feet ahead of
them. ‘You will travel that much faster without me.’

She sensed his hesitation. Whatever his
plans for the evening had been, they had not involved dragging a
female along. She must, necessarily, slow him down.

Abruptly, he removed his arm and gave her a
small push so that she half stumbled forward. ‘You are quite right.
I will travel so much faster without you.’ He stood looking at her
for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I cannot help but think that
you have made what should have been a perfectly straightforward
plan just that much more complex. I had dear Lady Woodward in the
palm of my hand until you came along.’

‘I think you underestimate Lady
Woodward.’

‘Perhaps, but your presence certainly did
not help.’

There was a small pause while they stared at
one another. Lovington had become an insubstantial figure, wreathed
in the cold, white tendrils that drifted around them.

‘If you go now, you will get away before
Bertie raises a fuss.’ Her voice sounded hollow. Insubstantial.

He stared at her for a moment longer then
bowed, almost formally. ‘My lady. May you lead Morvyn a merry
chase. I have a feeling the two of you deserve each other.’

And with that, the tall black figured turned
and disappeared into the mist.

Grace stood very still, listening. After
about a minute there came a grunt, followed by the rustle of bushes
and a curse. She sighed.

When a pair of arms slid around her from
behind, she jumped, but knew almost immediately who it was that had
found her. ‘Sherry!’

Turning, Grace wound her arms around his
neck, burying her face in his shoulder. While she had known that
she wasn’t in any real danger, there was a part of her that had
wanted Morvyn with a dreadful urgency. He held her, arms tight, a
shield against the night and anything that might imperil her
again.

‘It’s alright, my love,’ he murmured; voice
a deep rumble against her ear. ‘We have him.’

Grace raised her face at
last and gave him a watery smile. ‘That did
not
go according to plan.’

‘No,’ he agreed wryly, gray eyes searching
her face. ‘It took a little while to find you. Bertie helped, of
course.’

‘What,’ Grace demanded. ‘Do
you mean to tell me that Bertie was
meant
to arrive?’

‘In a manner of speaking. We wanted to stall
Lovington’s departure until we had more men in place and we thought
Bertie would be the least suspicious distraction. It was lucky that
I came across him.’

‘And Lovington?’

Morvyn shrugged. ‘Porter was initially
hoping to follow him, but the fog put paid to that. It made it too
easy for him to slip by us so we decided to cut our losses and take
him. We’ve already got his man. Perhaps one of them will tell us
something, although it does not seem likely. Not the result we were
after, but, frankly, I don’t give a damn.’ His smile was just a
little lopsided. ‘I was more concerned about other aspects of the
evening.’

Grace was still stuck on Bertie and his
masterly rendition. ‘Well, of all the things! And here, I thought
that Bertie was a bit of a fool. He played his part very well.’

At this juncture, Bertie himself arrived. He
grinned at Grace and gave her a slow wink. ‘Bit of fun, hey? We got
the blighter!’

‘Indeed. I have to say, you were very
impressive.’ She said trying to sound as if it were the most normal
thing in the world to have a man’s arms around her while holding a
conversation. Bertie didn’t seem to notice. ‘You played your part
exceptionally well.’

‘Yup,’ he agreed, still grinning. Then, ever
so slowly, he toppled backwards into the shrubbery.

Grace looked at Morvyn, expression one of
comical dismay.

Morvyn shrugged. ‘I never said he was sober,
my love. Just available.’

She began to laugh.

The marquis did not return Grace to the
Woodward household that night. She had no idea what he told Porter,
but when she alighted from the carriage she found herself in
Grosvenor Square, not Curzon Street, and she looked up at Morvyn,
expression enquiring.

‘Just say the word and I will take you back
to your host and hostess.’

Grace shook her head. She did not want to go
anywhere tonight, but with Morvyn. ‘Your mother…?’

‘Will be in bed, as will my sister. I am
sure they will both be delighted to see you in the morning.’

She had her doubts about this. Staying at
Morvyn’s place was a scandalous thing to do, but she found she did
not care. So it was scandalous. One night of scandal was not going
to hurt her, if it was spent with this man, for she had no doubt
why the marquis had brought her home and the thought of what lay
ahead made her blood quicken, the tiredness dropping away, replaced
by a newfound energy.

At last, she was going to be alone with the
man she loved.

The house was quiet around them, only a few
sleepy servants up, ready to wait upon their lord. After a few
moments, Grace was taken upstairs to a guest bedchamber. On the
bed, a nightgown of fine lawn had been laid out and a maid was
waiting to help her out of her dress. Grace sat before the mirrored
dressing table and let the girl’s capable fingers work their magic,
releasing her dark blonde hair and brushing it out. Having helped
prepare her for bed, the girl added coals to the fire that had just
begun to catch properly then curtsied a goodnight.

She sat on the side of the bed and looked
around her almost wonderingly. It might have been the lateness of
the hour or the tension that had finally leached away, but she felt
a little as if she were in a dream. The firelight was soothing, the
quiet was enchanting and she… Well, she was filled with the most
delicious sense of anticipation.

He came to her ten minutes later, stepping
into the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Which he locked.

At her look, he shook his head. ‘No more
interruptions. God knows what might happen in a sleeping house at
one in the morning, but if it is ever going to happen, now would
probably be the time and I will not have you to myself yet
again.’

Grace gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘You have a
point.’

She watched as he approached her. He had
shed his jacket and was dressed only in breeches and a white shirt,
open at the neck. A small thrill of nervous excitement leaped
through her. She had spent ten days fixated on exactly this moment
and now? Grace moistened her lips. Now that the reality stood
before her, she found that she wanted him with a profound longing
that left her quivering, aching for his touch. She went to rise,
but he put a hand out, keeping her on the edge of the bed.

‘Wait one moment.’ He went down on bended
knee. ‘There is something that I must say before we go any
further.’

She watched, fascinated, as he took her hand
in his and looked into her eyes.

‘Grace Pemberton, I wish you to do the very
great honor of marrying me, for I have discovered that I cannot
live without you.’ He smiled, but there was a gravity about him
that kept her still. ‘You are my love. You will be my life and I
will keep faith with you forever. Only say that you will take me.’
Tears came, filling her eyes. She took her hand from his to cup his
face and kiss him. ‘I am hoping that is a yes.’

‘Most assuredly it is. Yes, dearest Sherry.
I would love to marry you.’

He relaxed a little and she realized that he
had not been sure, up until that very moment, what her answer would
be, which only proved what fools men were. ‘In that case, I will
unlock the door tonight. It was serving the dual purpose of keeping
you here until I had the answer I wanted.’

Rising to his feet, he drew her gently
upwards. Something had changed. Suddenly, the air was charged with
that same heat that had been setting them both on edge for days. He
drew her close, kissing her with an intensity that ignited that
sweet, familiar spark within. Ten days of longing – not so long
really, but it had felt like ten of the longest days of her life –
combined together to release a flood of need so intense that, had
he thrown her onto the bed at that moment to take her, she would
have been more than ready for him.

But Morvyn had waited far too long not to
take this slowly.

Drawing back, he gently pulled the satin
ribbon that held her gown together and cool air touched her skin.
Easing the gown back over her shoulders, it tightened for a moment
before slipping off her shoulders and falling to the ground at her
feet, leaving her naked before him.

He stared at her for a long moment in
silence, his face wearing a look that was almost reverential. ‘Dear
God, Grace. You are so beautiful!’

She smiled. Reaching out, she tugged the
shirt from his breeches, as eager to reveal the man beneath. The
shirt joined her gown, the breeches following on, and in no time he
was as naked as she. She took a moment, admiring the broad, strong
shoulders, the well-muscled chest that narrowed down to a flat
belly. A dark line of hair arrowed down from his navel, leading
down to… Grace looked at the man, every inch of him, and felt the
warmth spread through her body as she took in his arousal. He was
perfection!

Moving forward to close the distance between
them, he placed his hands on her shoulders before running them down
her arms, his touch warm, but feather light. Bending his head, he
slid his tongue across a nipple and she gasped, a shudder running
through her.

Desire, hot and sweet, surged through her
veins like warm honey. Suddenly, she was more conscious of her body
than she had ever been before. Everything, from the tight, tingling
buds of her nipples, to the raw, elemental ache that throbbed deep
in the pit of her belly, everything was intensely sensitive, making
her aware of a driving need that was building within, a relentless
pulse she had never experienced before.

All this, with just a touch…

He was the candle, uncompromising sexuality
blazing bright, while she was most definitely the moth.

Needing to touch him, Grace reached out to
grasp those broad shoulders, his skin smooth and warm. The muscles
tensed and bunched beneath her hands and she closed her eyes,
reveling in the pure, wanton pleasure that surged through her as he
teased and taunted first one breast, then the other, while a
delicious wave of pleasure surged within, rising up to sweep her
away. When it came, crashing through her body, Grace gasped,
holding onto him now because, if she did not, she would surely
collapse onto the floor in a mindless pool of shuddering
sensation.

It was the first time she had ever lost
herself so completely.

It was a revelation.

So beautiful

Her skin was alabaster, smooth, and flawless
and he continued to tease those perfectly rounded breasts with
their delicate, jutting nipples, so pure and yet so infinitely
erotic. With his tongue and his teeth he played with them and she
shuddered, body arching with pleasure beneath his touch. And then,
when it became too much, he felt her body shiver in the ultimate
surrender, that which the French called a little death, so lost to
everything that she had to hold on to him to remain upright.

Oh yes
…

Morvyn was on fire, his body seized with a
need so powerful he knew, vaguely, that any hope he had of
controlling himself was slipping away from him. Her climax eroded
his ability to take it slowly no matter that he wanted their first
time to be perfect. Of course, it had been the same since that
first dance; his need for the woman overriding his control of the
man.

Raising his head he looked at her. Grace,
his sweet nemesis, had closed her eyes, the rapturous expression on
her face making him smile even in the midst of the urgency that
gripped him. She reached for him blindly, drawing him close, and he
bent to kiss those full lips, which opened beneath his own eagerly,
letting him taste her, matching his heat with her own. His body was
hard, an aching clench of need that disturbed him because he’d
never lacked control with a woman in his life and yet here he was,
moments away from losing it completely as he explored the softness
of her mouth, his tongue thrusting into the warmth of her, a carnal
imitation of the absolute possession that he craved.

‘My love…’

‘Please, do not stop. I… I need…’ It was an
inarticulate plea. It was a benediction.

She needed exactly what he did, to be
completely joined as man and woman.

Laying her back down on the bed, he moved
over her, trying to move slowly. She was no virgin, but he was so
aroused that he feared he would move too quickly. Grace opened her
eyes, warm and trusting, and smiled at him.

‘Oh Sherry,’ she whispered, ‘do not make me
wait for this.’

And as it always had been when it came to
the woman beneath him, he was lost.

With the last remnants of his restraint, he
moved inside her slowly, but she arched against the pressure and in
a moment it seemed they were moving together in perfect unison,
bodies matching each other’s instinctive rhythm, merging together.
Suddenly, he was no longer worried that he was moving to fast for
her for he was there with her as they climbed towards release, as
aware of her as he was of himself, of the impending moment when
they would climax together, always together.

The room, the world, shattered into a
thousand shards of immeasurable pleasure as Morvyn held on to the
woman he loved, held on tight, safe in the knowledge that he would
never, ever let her go. Not tonight. Not tomorrow.

Morvyn had found his forever.