Faith (25 page)

“Yes.” Faith caught her breath and stifled a moan when he opened his mouth and closed his lips around her fingertip. “I know because every single time you touch me in that same place, in just that way, I feel as though I’ll come apart.”

She tried to pull her hand away. When he wouldn’t relinquish it, she wriggled until she was lying half atop him, her long, slender legs entangled with his. She bent and placed her mouth where her finger had been and was rewarded when she felt his nipple harden beneath her lips. Fascinated, she opened her mouth and exhaled, her humid breath surrounding and bathing the hard nubbin in sensuous warmth. He sucked her finger further into his mouth, cradling and stroking it with his tongue. She gasped and looked up swiftly, the ends of her hair tickling his chest and abdomen.

“Oh, God, princess,” he whispered, his voice rough with wanting.

Her hand freed, she slid it lightly down his chest and stomach, his skin tingling everywhere she touched, until her fingers closed softly around his rigid arousal. His hands found her trim waist. He lifted and settled her firmly astride him. She wriggled and braced both hands on his chest, her legs gripping the sides of his hips, unsure of what she should do until he arched his back and tilted his hips upward, pressing his hardness against her moist center. She rolled her hips and moaned, her eyes closing with pleasure.

“Yes, love.” He fought the need to surge up into her, to thrust himself deep inside her heated core. “Take all the time you want. I am at
your
mercy.”

Faith dug her toes into the sheets and lifted herself a fraction. The thick passion in his voice did not escape her, and she thrilled at her own power, astonished to learn that he was as affected by her touch as she was by his. She leaned forward to kiss him. “I don’t want to wait, darling.” She pushed back until she felt the tip of his manhood enter her slightly. “Together,” she breathed, and his control abruptly shattered.

With a groan, he tilted his hips and filled her in one stroke. She cried out and buried her face in his neck, pushing back to meet him, then flexing her back and lifting away. He buried his hands in her golden hair, thrusting harder now, and she moved with him, finding the rhythm that drew them ever closer to that edge.

She gasped his name, and he rolled with her, still joined, pressing her into the bed. Her hands roved over his back and shoulders, gripping and releasing in reaction to the streaks of sensation coming faster and faster now, until they overlapped and she exploded in cascading waves of ecstasy.

When he felt her body grip him, when he heard the keening cry that signaled her fulfillment, Gareth joined her, thrusting into her one last time, erupting with his own blinding flash of oblivion, spilling his offering at the entrance to her womb. He collapsed atop her, shifting his weight slightly so that most of it was braced on his forearms, folded her against him, and rolled slightly to his side, taking her with him, still connected.

She stirred, and he tightened his arms around her. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Be still. Feel it happening.”

She settled immediately and nestled softly against him. “Feel what, darling?”

His hands stroked her tousled hair. “Our baby.” He smiled. “Just imagine if we’ve created a life just now. Together.”

Faith smiled too and closed her eyes. “Together,” she agreed.

Epilogue

Spring, 1818

I
s he sleeping yet, Mama?”

Imogen’s high-pitched voice carried up the terrace steps, and little Jonathon’s half-closed eyelids popped open at the disturbance. Faith smiled ruefully, reached into the child’s bed and placed a soft hand on his warm little tummy.

“Almost, angel,” she told her daughter in a soothing voice.

Imogen Marie Lloyd appeared at the top of the steps, a tiny, three-year-old replica of her mother. She tiptoed across the terrace, making more noise in her efforts to be quiet than she would have if she’d simply walked. Leaning over the rim of the bassinet, she admonished her baby brother. “Now, Jonathon. It is Mama’s birthday, and I can’t give her a present until you take your nap.” A lock of long golden hair slipped from her shoulder to dangle into the bassinet and tickle Jon’s little face. He giggled and waved his tiny fists at her.

Faith laughed softly at the impatient look on her daughter’s face. “Why don’t we take him with us instead?”

Imogen clapped her hands and danced along the terrace while Faith gathered Jonathon and a blanket up into her arms. When she had the babe securely settled on her hip, she extended a hand and allowed the little girl to lead her down the terrace steps and into the garden.

“Your present is in the maze, Mama.” The three-year-old pulled impatiently on Faith’s hand to make her go faster.

The maze.

Faith smiled. Not long after she’d discovered she was with child, she’d asked Gareth if they could add a hedge maze to their rather extensive gardens. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she’d explained sweetly, her face earnest. “And I want our children to be able to play and enjoy all the pleasures of childhood without being affected by my fears.”

Gareth had opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and then plunged ahead. “Why are you so afraid of hedge mazes, princess?” He watched her face cloud and momentarily wished he hadn’t asked.

“It’s silly,” she’d said slowly, then haltingly told him about the incident from her childhood with Duncan and the chambermaid and the giant spider that had never really existed. When she finished, she gave him a sheepish smile. “See? I should have gotten over that long before I became an adult.”

Touched by her bravery, both in facing her fears and in telling him about them, Gareth had agreed and designed the maze himself, making it large and elaborate and intricate. It was truly beautiful to behold from the soaring windows of the upper stories of the mansion, and when it was complete, Gareth had led her through it. When they’d reached the first point at which one had to choose which way to turn, he’d stopped, placing his hand on the head of a marble statue of an angel set into the corner. Faith looked at him curiously.

He’d smiled. “If you can’t find your way, princess, just follow the angels.” He pointed in the direction the angel was looking, which was the way they had just come. “I had them mounted so that they always face the exit path. No one will know this but you. The angels are for you alone. Just as you, my angel, were made for me alone.” He leaned down to whisper, “And I’ve hired an extra gardener
just
for spider patrol.”

She’d laughed softly, her heart filled with warmth, and lifted
eyes
shining with love to his. They strolled on hand in hand to the center of the maze.

Imogen’s insistent tugging brought Faith out of her pleasant sojourn into the past. “Come on, Mama! Your present is in the middle!”

Laughing, Faith hitched Jonathon higher on her hip and obediently picked up the pace. Six turns and three angels later, they emerged into the cleared space at the center of the maze.

“Happy birthday, Mama!” Imogen clapped her little hands at the look of surprised delight on her mother’s face.

There, planted in the very middle of the clearing, was the tree bouquet Gareth had given her the first time he’d come to call, complete with the ribbons woven through the branches and flowers tucked into the leaves in a bright pattern. She walked in a circle around it, smiling happily.

“Imogen, you cunning little thing! However did you manage to keep this a secret with Papa away in London for so long?”

“She didn’t know until this morning.”

Faith leaned around the far side of the tree at the sound of her husband’s beloved voice, her eyes shining as he strolled into the clearing carrying a picnic basket. “I didn’t expect you home for another week,” she said softly.

“Did you honestly believe I’d miss your birthday?” he admonished, but his eyes were smiling. “Happy birthday, princess.” He leaned down to give her a soft kiss, set the basket on the grass, and took Jonathon from her arms. He lifted the child up over his head and said, “And you, unless I miss my guess, should be asleep, young man.”

The baby gurgled agreeably, and Faith, Gareth, and Imogen all laughed.

Imogen opened the picnic basket and pulled out a blanket. “Will you help me, please, Mama? I’m hungry,” she announced.

Grateful for the ability to share the beautiful spring day with the people she loved most in all the world, Faith did just that. Once she had the little girl settled with a plate of her favorite food, she looked up to find her husband watching her, his brown eyes soft with all the love in the world. The look they shared said it all: somehow, despite all the obstacles, they’d ended up here, building the family she’d always wanted.

“I love you,” he mouthed silently.

And, feeling cherished, trusted, and adored, she smiled.

Reviewers Are Charmed by Deneane Clark and
Grace

“Nicely written and with a bunch of lively characters, debut author Clark’s tale engages the reader in a merry chase between a charming English lord and a spirited young woman in the game of matrimony.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“
Grace
is a sparkling debut by a talented new author. The characters are eminently likeable, the plot rapidly paced, the dialogue catchy, and the action sometimes moving and always captivating…If you like romance with lots of sexual tension, a pursued hero becoming the pursuer, and deep emotions masquerading as antagonism in a heroine, you’ll love Trevor and Grace…and
Grace.
”

—Romance Reviews Today

“The cast, especially the lead couple, make for a fine Regency romance as Trevor chases after Grace, who seems immune to his charm.”

—The Best Reviews

“
Grace
begins with a bang and the pace never lets up. It is an easy read, with smooth-flowing action and believable characters.”

—Roundtable Reviews

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