Candice Hern (35 page)

"But why would she —" The truth slammed into him with the force of a charging elephant. She must have seen it in his face, as her smiled broadened.

She raised her hands, palms out, and said, "I am not what you expected, am I? Too old. Too stubborn. Too stupid. As incredible as it sounds, though, the duchess chose me."

Thayne narrowed his eyes, and studied her. "I was under the impression, madam, that you wanted no part of me."

"I changed my mind," she said, throwing back at him those same words he'd said to her when he first asked her to marry him. Her face became more serious, concerned, contrite, as she reached out and took both his hands.

"I said terrible things to you, Gabriel, hateful things. Please forgive me. Please. I've been such a fool. I know the truth about your 'slaves.' I never truly believed it. I knew you were a better man than that. I knew it, but when you did not deny buying slaves ... Well, I didn't know what to believe. Plus, I was angry that you'd discovered our Merry Widows pact and thrown it in my face. So I countered by throwing baseless gossip back at you.

"But I know the truth now, the full truth about how you fought the slave trade, and knowing it, I have never admired you more. And I know about Chitra. That was the worst accusation of all and I am more than ashamed of it. Especially now that I've met her."

"You met Chitra?"

"Yes. She and Charlotte are great friends."

Thayne shook his head, not understanding any of this. His heart thudded loud in his chest at the very idea of having Beatrice back in his life. But it was not that easy. Despite his mother's damnable interference, he was not certain he wished to capitulate.

"None of this is making sense to me, Beatrice. Let me see if I have it straight. You have changed your mind and now wish to marry me?"

"Yes, very much so."

His heart did a little dance in his chest, but he kept his well-honed reserve in place.

"If you will have me," she said.

"I am rather surprised that
you
are willing to have
me
. You have been rather clear on the point, as I recall. You hated the idea of marriage, and most especially to me."

She grimaced. "I was wrong."

"You no longer believe I keep a sex slave."

"No, of course not. I never truly believed it."

"You no longer think I will try to dominate you, to take control of your life?"

She quirked a smile. "You will try. But I will fight you on it."

Yes, he rather imagined she would. "And you no longer think you are too old?"

"I cannot change my age, Gabriel. But it no longer matters to me. I have enjoyed having a vigorous younger man as my lover. Why not as my husband?"

"And there was, as I recall, an objection to starting a family. You did not want more children, and yet I will want an heir."

"It has occurred to me that making a child with you would be a wonderful thing indeed. My daughters tell me they would like a little brother, if you please."

He could no longer hold back a smile. He squeezed her hands and pulled her closer.

"You were so adamantly against marriage before. And against me. What changed your mind?"

"You told me you loved me."

"But you
knew
I loved you. You had to have known."

"You never said it."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I am sorry if I didn't. I thought you knew. But I suppose it is good to hear the words now and then, is it not?"

"You have no idea how good it is."

"Then allow me to say it again. I love you, Beatrice. I love you."

Her eyes suddenly grew bright with tears. The words really were important to her. He held her tight and whispered them over and over in her ear until the tears turned to laughter.

I love you I love you I love you.

Her heart swelled and she laughed with joy. She had not been entirely convinced the duchess's plan would work. She had been prepared for Gabriel to toss her out on her ear. But to have him hold her again and declare his love ... oh, this was bliss. All-encompassing, mind-shattering, life-altering bliss.

It was an overwhelming sensation to love a man with your whole heart and soul, to want him so badly you ached with it. To discover such love at her age, after marriage and children and a respectable widowhood, was quite simply breathtaking.

"Oh, Gabriel. I love you." To say the words aloud was almost as powerful as hearing them said. "I am consumed with love for you."

And he kissed her. It was the kiss of a lifetime, a kiss that marked the before and after of their lives, the first kiss wrapped in love fully acknowledged and a promise for the future. When it ended, while she was still dizzy with the potency of it, Gabriel took her face in his hands.

"Will you marry me, Lady Somerfield?"

"Gladly. But you must accept me as I am, Gabriel. I am too old to change."

"I do not want you to change. I love you just the way you are. Well, maybe except for one small thing. You must stop telling me you are too old. We shall banish the word 'old' from our vocabulary. You are in the prime of your life, my love. The very best time of your life. You are not an unformed young lady just out of the schoolroom, thank God. You are a complete woman, Beatrice, and that's one of the things I love best about you. So, my one and only order is that there will be no more talk of you being too old. Agreed?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "He's ordering me about already. All right, then. I am no longer too old. But do not ask me to change anything else, for I cannot promise I will acquiesce so easily and without a fight."

He grinned and kissed her nose. "No more changes, my little ingenue. And I can't change my spots, either, you know. I am quite aware that I am arrogant and demanding and controlling. I was raised to be a duke. Arrogance comes with the territory. But I will try to be accommodating, I promise. I may not succeed as much as you'd like, but I will try."

"I know you will. We'll both try. And we'll be better people for it."

They kissed again and it grew more passionate, urgent, a little wild.

"Dear God," he said at last, "I am desperate to make love to you. Right now. But you look so beautiful, my Artemis, and we have to make an appearance soon downstairs at the ball. I don't want to ruin your Grecian hairstyle or wrinkle your gown. But we can sneak up here after midnight and I'll make love to you all night long."

"We don’t have to muss my hair, you know."

"If I toss you on this sofa, or carry you to my bed in the next room, I guarantee you that your hair will be mussed."

"I am surprised, Gabriel, at your lack of resourcefulness. There are a thousand ways to make love."

She pulled him roughly by the sash around his waist as she walked backward to the nearest wall and fell back against it. Lifting a leg to wrap around his thigh, she said, "
Jataveshtitaka
. The twining of the creeper."

He laughed joyfully. "You are a fast learner, my love. Your pronunciation is quite perfect."

"I learned more than the pronunciation." She felt inside the Indian coat and found the ties that held the trousers in place. "I seem to recall these were easily removed." She fumbled with the ties until they came undone. With a quick shake of his hips, they slithered down his legs. She reached inside his smallclothes and freed his erection, while he hiked the skirts of her chiton to her waist.

She held him in her hands and positioned him at the already damp entrance to her sex. Lifting her thigh higher and wrapping it around his back, she achieved a better angle. With one thrust forward of her hips, she took him inside her.

"Ahhhhh." He gripped her bottom and held her in place, not moving. "Paradise. Home."

She began to move her hips and he set up a fast rhythm, driving harder and harder so that the wall shook with each thump of her backside. She would be bruised tomorrow, and did not care.

He somehow managed to insert a hand between them and, while still thrusting into her, began to massage the apex of her sex. It sent her over the edge in an instant and she cried out her release. His climax followed closely behind hers as his thrusts became short and frantic. He moaned and started to jerk free, but Beatrice gripped his buttocks, clenched her inner muscles, and held him tight inside her. "Stay."

He had no choice as his climax rocked him in that moment, and he pumped and pumped until his whole body went limp against her.

Panting, he gathered her in his arms and held her close. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. We need to start working on the heir. I'm not getting any younger, you know. Oops, I'm not supposed to mention that."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I promise to keep working on that heir. Often."

He pushed himself away and they both straightened their clothes. Beatrice walked to the mirror above the fireplace to check her hair. He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You were right," he said. "We can make love without mussing your hair. It still looks perfect."

"Yes, it — oh!" Her gaze had dropped to the mantel, where a tiny gold arrow had been placed right in the center. She looked in the mirror again and clearly saw the other arrow still lodged in the cushion. Then she looked up into Gabriel's eyes in the reflection. "What is this?"

"You dropped it that night we first met. I have kept it as a memento ever since. Cupid's arrow. Sent straight to my heart."

"Oh, Gabriel." He'd really kept it all this time? It was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard. She went to the sofa and extracted the arrow she'd shot into the cushion. Returning to the mantel, she placed it across the first arrow, so they formed a sort of X.

"Cupid shot me, too," she said. "Now they are like hearts entwined." She gave a sheepish laugh at such sentimentality, but she was feeling very romantic and sentimental and full of joy.

He turned her around to face him and wrapped her in his arms again. They could not seem to stop touching each other, as though every caress was a new discovery. This, from two people who know each other's bodies intimately.

"You know," he said, "you might have killed me tonight with that damned arrow."

"Not a chance. I told you: I practiced. I have always had a bit of skill at archery. Somerfield hated it, but I have taken it up in earnest since he died. It was simply a matter of becoming accustomed to the smaller size of the bow. If I had wanted to shoot you, Gabriel, I could easily have done so. Which was my whole point. I wanted you to know that even though I was prepared to marry you, I was not a woman to be trifled with. If you try to bully me, I will fight back." She grinned. "I might even shoot you if you're not careful."

"Egad, you terrify me."

"I just want you to know what you're getting in this bargain, my lord. I will not be managed."

He stroked her cheek with the back of a finger. "I know. I'll try not to, but it's in my nature to be in charge. You may have to cut me down to size now and then. But I will promise you this: you may manage all our investments without, or with very little, interference from me. I took your advice on that mining stock and made a tidy bundle on it. Quite remarkable. You really do know what you're doing, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then I am happy to yield to you in all matters of business, if you like. At least, I'll try."

"We'll work side by side, Gabriel. We'll share the burden and make decisions together."

"I'd like that." He kissed her again. "You may find, though, that I tend to get my way most of the time."

"We'll see."

His expression grew serious, intense. "It won't be like your first marriage, Beatrice. I will guarantee you that. I will not shut you out or put checks on your behavior. I won't be another Somerfield. Believe that."

"I do."

"Besides, Somerfield didn’t love you, whereas I love you to distraction. That has to count for something."

"My dear Gabriel, it counts for everything."

* * *

Later that evening in the ballroom of Doncaster House, brilliant with the light of a thousand candles in the famous chandeliers, the duke and duchess announced the betrothal of their son to Lady Somerfield, and led the guests in a toast to their future happiness.

The announcement was received politely but with quiet reservation. The betrothed couple, after all, had only recently been the focus of a rather interesting scandal.

"Hell and damnation," Thayne whispered to Beatrice. "They think we are simply trying to redeem ourselves, that we are marrying merely to placate the gossip. Well, blast them all, I'll show them what this is really about."

He pulled her into a shockingly tight embrace. After a few feminine gasps, the room went silent. He pulled her even closer.

"There you go," Beatrice said, smiling, "bullying me already."

"On this matter, madam, you will simply have to get used to it."

And in front of all their guests, the Marquess of Thayne kissed his bride-to-be soundly. At first there were a few gasps of shock, followed by hushed conversations, and then someone began to applaud.

The Dowager Duchess of Hertford, beaming at the engaged couple, clapped her hands enthusiastically. Mrs. Marianne Cazenove came to stand beside her and did the same. So did Penelope, Lady Gosforth, and Mrs. Grace Marlowe. Miss Emily Thirkill joined in with enthusiasm, as did the two gentlemen who flanked her. Mr. Burnett shouted huzzahs at his friend. The other gentleman, who some recognized as Sir Albert Thirkill, watched his future son-in-law with amusement twinkling in his eyes, then looked down at his daughter and smiled. It was whispered about Town that, having heard of the shocking display at the last Benevolent Widows Fund ball, he had come to take his wife back to the country with him.

When it was noticed that the Duchess of Doncaster herself was beaming with approval, others joined in the clapping, and then more, until the room rang out with thunderous applause, cheering, whistles, hooting, and general merriment.

Lord Thayne smiled broadly at the crowd, bowed an acknowledgment, then pulled his betrothed close and kissed her again.