A Marquis to Marry (32 page)

The moon was in just the right angle to glisten its beams on the door. Race smiled and reached for the knob in anticipation. He turned it as he pushed on the door with his other hand. The knob didn’t move and neither did the door.

Not wanting to believe what seemed to be the obvious, he added more pressure and turned the knob again. The door was bolted from the inside, and it wasn’t going to budge.

For a moment, Race just stood there and stared at the door. His heart beat erratically. He had been so sure she would unlock the door for him that it momentarily stunned him that she hadn’t.

Trying to gather his tattered wits and bruised ego, Race blew out a disappointed breath and then moistened his lips. Was it possible she hadn’t felt all that he had during their one night together? He laughed quietly to himself. No, that he would not believe. She had wanted him as desperately as he had wanted her. She had not been faking her pleasure. He was sure of that.

Perhaps he had destroyed any soft feelings she had for him when he accused her of stealing the pearls. She had been furious with him, and at the time, he’d been too blinded to see the truth. He had misjudged her, barged into her house like a wild boar, and worse, he hadn’t really apologized to her for either of those things, yet. No wonder she kept the door bolted against him. A note scribbled on a piece of foolscap didn’t constitute an apology.

Race ran both hands through his hair in frustration at his own loutish behavior. She should have slapped him that morning or thrown her hairbrush at his head. Maybe that would have knocked some sense into him, since he seemed to have taken leave of it.

Thinking on it now, he didn’t know how he could possibly have thought she could have betrayed him so soon after she had completely yielded her body to him. What madness had sent him over the edge of reason into insanity?

Love?

No.

Yes.

He raked a palm through his hair once again. Was what he felt for Susannah love? It must be. But how had it snuck up on him?

“Bloody hell and damnation, too!” he whispered softly into the darkness.

If it was love, what was he going to do about it? Falling in love wasn’t anything he’d planned for his near future.

He had fallen hard for her the moment he laid eyes on her. He could no longer deny that to himself or anyone else.

He had always expected, had always wanted, to one day fall madly in love, but he’d always thought it would be with a young and untouched lady like Blake’s wife Henrietta. It had never crossed his mind that he would fall in love with a beautiful, self-assured, and fascinating widow his own age. Susannah was a lady who was more than his equal in intelligence, courage, and title. She had not only turned his world upside down, but she had set his world on fire, too.

He had absolutely no desire for the silly young ladies making their debuts into Society. He wanted Susannah. He didn’t understand it but felt as if he’d been waiting for her his entire life.

It was odd, but he didn’t care that she had been married or what her husband may or may not have made her feel when she was in his bed. He didn’t even care if she’d had other lovers. All that mattered to him was that Susannah be his. And he wanted her with him for the rest of his life.

But had he realized that too late? Had he lost her forever because of his own foolish behavior?

Race squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head for a moment. He took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could win her back. He was certain about that. Obviously not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, but he would woo her back to him. If he had to, he would move heaven and earth to do it.

Set with determination, Race turned away from the door, but before his foot hit the first step down, he heard a soft click behind him, and he stopped.

Was that sound the bolt on the door?

He did hear it, didn’t he?

Race spun and stared at the door as his heart hammered in his chest. The moon still shone brightly on the knob. It wasn’t moving. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had he only heard night sounds of crickets, frogs, or something else? Was what he heard just the creak of an old house settling on its foundation? His gaze remained frozen on the door, and he listened but heard nothing more.

Race suddenly relaxed and laughed softly to himself again. Could he have wanted her to unbolt the door so desperately that he imagined she had? But then, hadn’t he imagined himself wrapped in Susannah’s glorious arms, in her warm bed, many times over the past few days?

Could he leave her house without trying the knob one more time?

No, he couldn’t.

Race quietly retraced his steps to the door and then hesitated. Did he want to feel such heart-wrenching rejection again should his senses be playing tricks on him?

Still…

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Slowly his arm snaked out toward the knob, but his fist remained closed. If the door was still bolted, what would he do?

Break the door down?

No.

He would take his time and woo her.

He was not without charm when he chose to use it. And he would use it. He would make such a romantic assault on her, she would be begging him to come back to her bed.

His hand opened and then closed around the cold knob. He turned his wrist, and the knob moved. He laid his open palm on the door and pushed slowly. The door opened, creaking slightly. His legs went weak. He swallowed a gulping groan, and he fell against the doorjamb, breathing heavily.

She forgave him for his tactless and boorish behavior.

Relief, so satisfying that he wanted to throw his fists in the air and yell, melted through him. A surge of sweet anticipation started in his chest and moved low in his loins. He was filled with gratitude and uplifted by the knowledge she wouldn’t have opened the door had she not forgiven him for the way he had treated her. And she wouldn’t have unlocked the door had she not been certain he knew she had nothing to do with the theft.

All he could think right now was that his grandmother’s necklace be damned. Susannah was a hell of a lot more priceless to him than a few strands of pearls.

Very quietly, he walked down the corridor to her room. He opened her door, slipped inside, closed the door behind him, and turned the key in the lock. Susannah was sitting up in bed with a book in her hand. An oil lamp burned on the night table beside her; a low fire glowed in the fireplace.

She looked so inviting, dressed in a white sleeveless shift, with her glorious brown hair flowing onto the pillows behind her. All the loving emotion he felt for her swelled in his chest. Desire and expectation rippled down his spine and settled into the hardness between his legs.

Their eyes met across the room and held. She looked cautiously at him. She was wary of him, and he didn’t blame her. He hadn’t given her much reason to trust him up to now.

Race shrugged out of his coat as he walked toward her, letting it fall to the floor behind him. He kicked out of his shoes and propped one hip on the edge of the bed beside her. Without speaking, but keeping his gaze locked on hers, he took the book from her, closed it, and laid it on the table beside the lamp. He pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers, lifted the shirt over his head, and flung it aside.

He then slipped his hand around to the back of her neck, pulled her gently to him as he lowered his head to hers, and brushed her soft, moist lips with his, easing over them with the lightest contact.

Contentment settled sweetly over him.

“I’m sorry I was such a beast,” he whispered into her mouth. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes once again. “I can only hope that…”

The pads of her fingers flew to his lips and silenced him. “All is forgiven, Race.”

Doubts rose up inside him. That was too easy. He knew how despicable he had been. “When I first got to your door tonight, it was locked. I didn’t blame you for not wanting me to come.”

Her eyes questioned him. “You waited?”

He nodded. “Not because I knew you would open it eventually, but because I hoped you would.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“What made you change your mind?”

A smile broke across her face, and as she looked at him, her eyes softened. The caution he’d seen moments before was gone, and he saw trust. She had never looked more beautiful to him than she did at that moment. Giving him her trust, her body, her all, made him jubilant like nothing ever had, and he knew in his heart he would never let her down again.

“You. This.” Susannah wound her arms around his neck, leaned forward, and kissed his neck, letting her lips skim along his shoulders, down his chest, and across each nipple.

A spiraling heat of desire swirled, searing and deep in his loins, and Race trembled with need at her gentle touch. He suddenly had a great desire for her to know that he loved her.

“Susannah, I—”

“Shh,” she said, silencing him with her lips on his. “No more need be said,” she whispered into his mouth. “Just make love to me, Race.”

“With pleasure,” he whispered as he accepted her kiss, her forgiveness, and her lips.

She was wrong, though. There was much more that needed to be said between them, but he would leave it for later. He didn’t want to talk right now, either. He just wanted to touch, to taste, and to see her.

He raised his head and smiled down at her as he fingered the lobe of her ear. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispered as his hand left her earlobe and traveled down to her jaw and followed the bone around to the other ear.

She arched her head back, giving him freedom to touch her as he pleased. He caressed the tender skin behind her ear with his forefinger while his thumb played in the hollow of her throat.

He bent his head and slanted his lips over hers in a slow, tender kiss. His fingers trickled down her neck to her chest to the firm swell of her breast, nestled warmly beneath the cool cotton fabric of her nightrail. Her breast was full, soft, and her nipple firm beneath the palm of his hand as he caressed her.

“Susannah,” he murmured softly as he moved his head low. With his mouth, he found her taut bud hidden beneath the thin material of her shift and gently tugged on it, nipping it with his teeth. Her nipple grew harder under his playful touch. The soft, feminine sounds of enjoyment she made elated him and added to his own satisfaction.

Desire for her grew strong, overpowering every other feeling. He kissed his way back up to her lips. They parted, and she leaned sensually into him, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, slowly, delicately, so he could enjoy the sweet taste of her.

His arms slid around her back, and he leaned her into the pillows as his mouth ravished hers. His tongue played with hers, tasting, teasing, giving, and taking.

He heard her soft moan of desire and felt her tremble with yearning, and it gave him immense satisfaction.

Eagerness to possess her tore at him, but he kept it at bay as his lips left hers and his tongue swept down her neck, tasting her, and back up to her mouth again. A whisper of satisfaction eased past his lips and into her mouth as he cupped, lifted, and caressed her breast, feeding his insatiable desire to touch her with all the hunger he was feeling.

He kissed her harshly, madly, and Susannah accepted his roughness and eagerness. That pleased him, aroused him.

Her hand dropped to his thigh and then slipped to the throbbing shaft between his legs. Her unexpected touch sent rushing, delicious warmth sizzling through him, and he lifted his body toward her. His uneven breaths quickened, and so did hers. She caressed his hardness with careful confidence, and he sensed her desire rising to match his.

Race felt her hands working on the buttons of his trousers, and he quickly helped her slide them down and off his legs and feet. He grabbed her nightrail and pulled it up and over her head and slung it away, leaving her beautiful nude body for him to devour with his eyes, his lips, and his tongue. He tumbled her off the pillows and stretched his body beside hers on the bed. He wanted to give Susannah all the pleasure she had experienced the last time they were together and more.

He continued to massage her breasts, loving the feel of their full, firm weight in his hands. Occasionally he would stop and tease the nipple with his thumb and finger. He ran the palm of his hands and tips of his fingers over her naked shoulders to her breasts, to her waist, down the slim plane of her hip and inner thigh, and then back up again as he devoured her with his gaze.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered.

“So are you,” she said with eyes that were heavy with passion.

He chuckled and then grinned. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

She smiled convincingly at him. “You are. Your body is.”

Burning heat surged in his loins, and a longing ached in his heart to completely possess her and make her his. She reached up and let her fingertips glide softly, tantalizingly slowly over his chest, down his midriff, and lower. He trembled with need, loving the fact she had no inhibitions, and allowed her hands to go lower and close around his hardness, feel its thickness and weight. He gulped in a ragged breath. Her feather-light caress teased him and offered no mercy to his burning need.