Rare and Precious Things (35 page)

THAT’S my good girl. You want it. I was right about you.

He took her hand and brought it forward. His lips kissed the cool skin of her hand as his thumb caressed over her elegant fingers. The essence of her flesh so close threatened to overpower his senses. Darius let the desire seize him—the tightening down low as the blood hardened him to iron. God, it felt good. He could stand here staring, breathing in her delicate scent, nibbling her skin, forever and never get tired of it. Just having her close felt like a reward. He kissed her hand a second time, lingering a little longer with his lips, drawing in her natural essence through the softness of her silky skin.

“You have made me
very
happy, Marianne. Let’s go tell your father the good news.”

Her luminous blue eyes looking up moved him deeply. She was beautiful to him. And now she’d be his. He would be the one—the one to discover her secrets.

Anticipating how he would take her the first time made him lightheaded. Her innocence required a gentle hand of course. And he would gladly give it. Darius would be so very careful with her initiation into the pleasures of the flesh. But still, his need to know her was nearly uncontainable. In his imaginings, he experienced lurid visions of possessing her beautiful body in so many ways, of satisfying his desires finally, after years of wanting her.

MARIANNE sat down that night and began to write. The journal had been given to her by her mother. One of the last gifts she’d ever received from her before she was gone. Mamma had said it was admirable for a lady to put down
her thoughts in words. Marianne thought of what she had agreed to this afternoon, and once again, could not see how she would manage to be all that her future husband believed she would be.

7th May, 1837

…Today I also gave my agreement to marry a man who says he wants nothing more than to care for me and to allow him to cherish me. He looks into my eyes and touches a part of my soul in a way that terrifies me, yet at the same time draws me in deeper to understand his motivation. I believe he can see into part of my secret. He understands me, because his words cut right to the essence of my problem, leaving me no choice but to give in to his demands.

So I will go to live at Stonewell Court and make my life with him…but I am very afraid of what awaits me. How will I ever rise to the standard of what is expected of me? I am not worthy, and I fear my carefully guarded heart is in great danger of being shattered beyond the ability for it to continue to beat within my breast. Darius Rourke doesn’t yet understand that I do not deserve to be cherished by any man. I am torn, and yet he is persuasively persistent in continuing to assure me all will be well, and to trust in him.

I find myself unable to deny Darius in his wishes for me, just as I was unable to deny my beloved Jonathan…

CHAPTER 3

The Kiss

MARIANNE
realized Darius felt entitled to demand a little more since she was now his betrothed. Their engagement had been announced, but it would be three weeks yet until they married. As her fiancé, he could call upon her and sit next to her in church. And he took full advantage of those opportunities. He held her hand and kissed it, walked with her, and often sent her letters and gifts.

“I have something for you, Marianne.” He presented a slim, leather volume into her hands.

Opening to the title page, she smiled when she saw the inscription he’d written.
To my Marianne, From your Darius
. She hardly knew what to say. Did Darius think of himself as belonging to her? It was a very intimate thought, and Marianne felt a thrill of pleasure at him believing in it.

“John Keats. His poetry is beautiful. I will enjoy this very much. Thank you, Mr. Rourke.”

“I think you want to call me Darius.” He nodded slowly at her. “And now, you want to kiss me, Marianne.” Still nodding, he smiled knowingly.

He told you what to do, and now you must do it.

Her breath grew heavy, her heart sped up, but she tilted her mouth toward his. Pushing up on her toes, her soft lips pressed against his firmer ones, and she felt the heat, a shuddering slice of arousal that shot right up between her thighs. A yielding breath escaped before she broke contact of their lips. She kept her lips close to his though. Marianne lifted her eyes to his burning ones.

“Darius,” she whispered. Just that short union of lips was shattering, and not nearly enough. He smelled divine, his cologne carrying a hint of exotic spice mixed with fresh linen and…heavenly male. To be so close to him stirred her blood. She let herself be drawn in easily and wondered what else he might ask of her. A shiver brushed over her shoulders and down her spine.

“Say it again.”

“Darius…” His name coming off her lips was lovely

His eyes flared as he descended for another kiss. This time his mouth moved on hers, warm and soft, but commanding. He nipped at her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth partway, like he wanted to devour her. She was going to allow him. Unable to resist, she leaned into his kisses, letting him tug her into his mouth, wondering where this would lead.

Darius didn’t demand anything more though.
At least, not today. He stopped and just smiled, looking pleased when he brought the back of his hand to her face and stroked gently.

“You are something so perfect, Marianne.”

No, I am something so definitely not!

WHEN his elegant carriage came to collect her, there was an envelope lying on the leather seat.

Dearest Marianne,

When you go today to be fitted for your wedding clothes, I have arranged for you to select new gowns and assorted garments from the modiste in town. She is French, and will guide you in selecting those items I wish for you to have. Dressing a woman is like framing a beautiful work of art. You, my dear, are the art, and so you must be framed, magnificently. Madame Trulier will have some things ready to take home with you today. Wear them for me, Marianne. I cannot wait to see you dressed as I believe is your due.

Yours,

D. R.

Reading his letter, she became flushed. The thought of Darius picturing her body in want of clothing was very intimate and made her heated. He always did that to her. His words, the looks, the smiles, the barest touch, all served to enflame her until she was unable to think or do anything other than what he asked of her. Darius understood her. Now, when she looked at him, she didn’t see a man that was not for her. Rather, she saw a man she wanted to please. She needed to. Compelled to do those things that satisfied him, she was bound to do what he asked of her.

Darius made her feel special in a way she had never experienced before. He cherished her in words and in deeds. Giving in to him felt comforting, and more importantly, safe. He would make sure she did the right things. If she followed his directions she wouldn’t be able to make terrible mistakes. Marianne couldn’t afford to make another one. Another mistake, like the one with Jonathan, would be the end of her.

Measuring tape in hand, Madame Trulier looked Marianne over carefully. Stripped down to her chemise, her body seemed to be met with approval.

“You are blessed in your figure, my dear. I can see why Mr. Rourke is so enchanted by your charms. We must arrange to show you off to your greatest advantage. Your fiancé was quite specific in what he wants, especially in regards to
dishabille
dress and undergarments. Mr. Rourke said only French silk for your chemises, stockings, and corsets. We shall please him, hmmm? You will be lucky to have such a husband—one who takes an interest.”

Marianne chose from those garments suggested by Madame Trulier. There were morning gowns, lounging wrappers, and gorgeous undergarments.
Day dresses, evening gowns, riding outfits, and cloaks. Madame insisted on several nightdresses sewn of the sheerest fabrics—beautiful, but capable of concealing little. Marianne felt the blushing heat fill her again when she pictured herself wearing them for Darius.

“He chose this shawl for you. You will take it with you when you go,” Madame Trulier announced.

The heavy shawl was a work of art in sea-blue Indian silk, woven in an intricate design, shot through with violet, lavender, and dark purple, iridescent threads. Marianne loved it. The dancing fringe swayed delicately when she caressed her hand over his striking gift. Suddenly swamped with the desire to wear this shawl for Darius, she wanted him to see her wearing it and know she had done it for him, to please him.

I am unable to resist his allure and he well knows it.

~ end of sample ~

The PASSION of DARIUS

PART ONE

Elaina

People who are meant to be together

will find their way back to each other.

There may be detours along the way,

but they are never truly lost.

Author Unknown~