In Your Arms Again (40 page)

She didn’t need to prod North to tell the rest of the story. He offered it willingly. “He was there at the tavern. I didn’t even notice him. Harker and I got into a fight—”

“That is how you got the wound on your chest.” Hadn’t she thought just a few minutes ago that she didn’t want to know how that happened?

He nodded, opening his eyes. “I might not be here if it hadn’t been for Brahm. He shot Harker.”

“He did it so you would not have to.” She was certain of it. “He did it for you.”

North squeezed her fingers as his gaze held hers. “He did it for us.”

Us
. What a wonderful sounding little word.

His fingers stroked hers, caressing the length of her hand from wrist to tip. “Marry me.”

She might have fallen over were it not for the tub. Good God, did he mean it? Was she dreaming? God, she wanted so badly to believe he meant it. “What if you find another villain to chase?”

“I won’t.”

“How do I know that?”

A tiny smile tilted the right side of his mouth. “Because I have a new line of work now.”

She stared at him, scarcely daring to breathe. “Politics.”

“Yes. Brahm thinks I have a very good chance of becoming MP for Hewbury.”

“What do you think?” Was this truly what he wanted, or what he thought she wanted to hear?

He leaned forward, water sloshing up the sides of the tub. “That none of it matters if I do not have you to share it with.”

Tears burned her eyes as her throat tightened. “Oh.”

Still clutching her hand to his chest, he reached out with his other hand and cupped the back of her head. Suds dripped onto her skirts. He held her head still, forcing her to look at him.

“I have spent most of my life either trying to be something I wasn’t or trying to escape what I am. You are the only person who ever made me feel like none of it mattered. That I was fine just being me.”

“Bonny and fine,” she joked, her voice cracking with emotion.

He smiled in a manner that was almost sympathetic, as though he realized how close she was to losing control of her emotions. “
You
are all I have ever wanted or needed. I never
knew it until you came here tonight. As soon as I saw you I knew everything was going to be all right.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “Whenever I come to this house it feels like coming home, because this is where you are. I have so many happy memories here.”

His gaze bore into hers, all fire and ice. “Then live here with me.”

“All right.” God, was that shaky, whispery sound her voice?

He seemed surprised. “You will? You want to live here?”

She nodded as much as his hold on her head would allow, swiping at a tear with the back of her hand. “Of course I do. I love this house almost as much as I love you.”

Obviously, that answer didn’t tell him everything he wanted to know. “And you will marry me? You will be content to be a mere Mrs.?”

Reaching out, she brushed the smoothness of his cheekbone with her fingers. “There is no such thing as ‘mere’ where you are concerned. And yes, I will marry you. Gladly. Certainly. Without a doubt or a second thought. I will be Mrs. North Sheffield.”

“Sheffield-Ryland,” he corrected with a foolish grin.

She rolled her eyes. “I do not care if your name is Sheffield-Shitemonger. I will still take it.”

Laughing, he pulled her closer, coming up on his knees in the water to pull her flush against his damp chest. “You have a dirty mouth, my love.”

Glancing between them, Octavia smiled at his erection, which she could see growing beneath the surface of the water. She raised her gaze with a saucy smile. “Would you like to wash it?”

He groaned, a low, pained sound, just before crushing her lips with his. Wet fingers tore at the buttons down the back of her gown, managing to unfasten some and send others flying
across the room. Clinging to his moist shoulder with one hand, Octavia tugged at the ribbon holding her hair with the other. After the elaborate hairstyle she had worn at the ball, she couldn’t be bothered putting more pins in when she took it out—not when she knew she and North would probably—hopefully—end up in bed anyway.

She lowered her arms as her hair fell down her back. He pushed her sleeves down her arms until the offending garment slid from her completely to pool around her knees. Then he pulled at the ribbons on her shift, discarding the fine lawn in one flick of his wrist.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she clung to him as he lifted her over the side of the tub. Octavia kicked at the clothing tangling around her legs, sending her slippers hurtling into the air. They landed with soft thuds on the wooden floor.

“North, my stockings,” she protested against his lips, but it was too late. He fell back in the tub and she landed on top of him with a loud splash that sent water sloshing over the sides—stockings and garters still secured above her knees.

Laughing, she gripped the sides of the tub and lifted herself above him. “Look at the mess you’ve made!”

He didn’t look at all. The only place his gaze went was her chest, where the cool air had tightened her nipples into pebbles—dusky and glistening in the lamplight.

Octavia’s smile faded, her breath catching in her throat as his hands—long, broad hands—slid up her ribs to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed the aching peaks, urging them into full distention. The hard, satiny length of his erection brushed the inside of her thigh beneath the water and she lowered herself to it, grazing the tip with the wanton cleft between her legs.

His eyelashes fluttered, his lips parting at the contact. Gently squeezing her nipples, he arched his hips upward,
shoving the blunt head against the opening to her body—not enough to gain entrance, but enough to make her want it.

She wanted him. In her life, in her body. This man was her best friend, her first and only lover, her perfect match, her other half. Only when she was with him did she feel complete. Only when he was with her did she feel like a beautiful and truly desirable woman. Her physical flaws didn’t matter, her insecurities were of no concern. In North’s arms she was a siren, a woman who wanted pleasure and knew how to give it.

She was everything she ever wanted to be when this man looked at her. The awareness of that, the full implication of what it meant and the joy it brought, sent a jolt of sensual need spiking through her body. If it was possible to have an emotional climax, she had one at that moment, every sense coming alive and opening to the pleasure her love for him wrought.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, positioning herself so that the thick length of him nudged, pushed, and finally slid inside. North’s eyes widened as she took the sensitive head into herself, his brow knitting as she pushed down with excruciating slowness.

“Ah, Vie. Christ.” He arched his hips, tried to thrust himself deeper, but she held back, squeezing him with her legs until he slowly relaxed and allowed her to take total control.

“Have you ever made love in a tub before, Norrie?”

Raising his gaze to hers, he shook his head. “No.”

She lowered herself another inch, taking more of him inside, the warm water slipping into the crevices of her body, igniting already sparking nerve endings. She gasped. He groaned.

As her muscles tensed, it took all of Octavia’s resolve not to shove herself down upon him and engulf his cock with her body. As much as she loved him, oh-so-dearly loved him,
naughty words filled her head, danced upon her tongue. Things she had overheard in the theater and now knew what they meant. Love had nothing and everything to do with this urgency bubbling inside her. She wanted—needed—release, and he was the only one who could give it to her.

Further she slid, taking him deeper and deeper until her pubis came to rest on his. He filled her, stretched her in such a delicious manner that her reaction bordered on frenzy. Slowly, with all the control she possessed, she began to rotate her hips, undulating on top of him lazily, sending little waves of water lapping against the side of the tub.

North’s hands tightened on her breasts, his fingers squeezing her nipples forcefully, drawing a gasp of pleasure-pain from her lips. Tugging gently, he guided her downward, so that her breasts were positioned in front of his face. Then, raising his gaze, his eyes held hers captive as he caught one nipple in his mouth.

Octavia shuddered. “
Ohh.
” His tongue was rough and velvety, soft but ruthless as it drew back and forth across her puckered, tingling flesh. And she watched as he suckled, watched his as his mouth opened and the tip of his tongue flicked the dark bud.

Drawing her hips upward, Octavia thrust herself down hard upon him, drawing a loud gasp from them both. Body spasming in erotic shock, she arched her spine, sitting back on his thighs as she rode him, resuming her earlier languid pace.

North’s hands came back to her breasts as his breathing became more and more shallow. He was like a selkie in the water—a mythical creature made for this kind of pleasure. For
her
pleasure. Her love. God, what a feeling to know he wanted this as desperately as she, that her body gave him the same pleasure that his was giving her.

Her hands crept down, one slipping between them to caress him whenever she lifted herself off him. The other hand
eased between her own splayed thighs, the fingers parting her own flesh until she found the hardened spot that ached to be touched.

North’s spine arched in response. “I love watching you touch yourself. I love you.”

That drove her over the edge, snapping the fragile bonds of her control. He loved her. She had known it to be true, but never had she suspected that hearing him say the words would have such a potent, earth-shattering effect on her.

Down she plunged, then up again and down, until water sloshed over the side of the tub. Ruthlessly she stroked herself as she rode him, bringing them both to the crest of the waterfall and then sending them over in a crash and thunder of pounding water and dizzying, roaring rush of pleasure.

They collapsed together in the cooling, churning water, now at a significantly lower level than it had been when he’d first pulled her in.

“How are we going to explain this soaking mess?” she asked with a chuckle once she’d regained the ability to speak.

North stroked her hair. “We aren’t. I do not think we have to.”

True enough. “Did you mean it?”

Obviously she didn’t have to tell him what “it” she referred to. “Yes. I love you. I always have. Always will.”

Tears prickling the back of her eyes, Octavia lifted her head to look at him—at the beautiful rugged face that had haunted her dreams for most of her life. “Always?”

He smiled. “Even before I knew what love was. I think I have loved you since the day we first met.”

“You hit me,” she reminded him with wide eyes. “That does not sound very affectionate.”

“Trust me, to a boy my age it was as good as a proposal of marriage.”

Grinning, she kissed his jaw. It was starting to get stubbly.

“I am glad that this time you chose to ask me rather than punch me.”

They laughed together and talked a bit, washing away the remnants of their lovemaking before climbing out of the tub together.

“Oh my Lord, I am stiff,” Octavia moaned as she stepped onto the floor.

“I am not,” North quipped as he handed her a towel. “But I could be if you give me a few moments.”

Rolling her eyes, Octavia began to dry herself. One of her garters had slid down around her calf, taking the soaking stocking with it. She kicked it off and untied the other, peeling it off her foot and tossing it aside.

When they were mostly dry, North extinguished the lamps and took her to his bedroom, where they climbed into the large bed—the only bed they had ever shared.
Their
bed.

He brought her to climax again with his tongue, and when she was limp and sated next to him, she noticed the small pillow by his head. She smiled.

“What is that doing here?”

Smiling—he looked so boyish when he smiled!—North inched closer. “It reminded me of you.”

That was all the explanation she needed. “I love you, Norrie Sheffield.”

He opened his arms to her and she scooted into them. “I know. I do not know why, but I know.”

“I just do.” She stroked the hair on his chest. “Why do you love me?”

“Because you are my Vie. Nothing feels right unless you are with me.”

His simple confession brought fresh tears threatening to burst forth. “I never have to pretend with you. I would never want to.”

North gazed at the head resting on his good shoulder. Just
the sight of her hair filled him with a tenderness he couldn’t describe. How had the world gone from being such a mess to being so utterly perfect in the space of a short time? How had he gone from thinking the world could only be one way, to allowing it to be whatever he wanted? It could not have happened overnight, and yet it felt as though it had. Everything that had seemed so impossible was suddenly within grasp. But the most important thing was already in his arms.

“Do you think you will be happy as a politician’s wife?” he asked.

She raised her gaze to his, the golden candlelight highlighting the delicate bones of her cheeks, the dewy softness of her lips. “I will be happy to be your wife, no matter what you do.”

“You will be safer this way,” he reminded her.

The arm around his trunk tightened. “I am safe with you no matter what.”

What had he done to deserve her? Thank Christ he had done it, whatever it was.

They lay together in silence for some time, until the soft gray light of dawn began to creep across the carpet and the candle sputtered out. And then she raised her face to his and he kissed her, thoroughly, passionately. They made love again as the sun lifted its sleepy head to the gleeful chirping of little songbirds.

And as they drifted to sleep, quieted by this perfect lullaby, North knew that everything was going to be fine. He and Octavia would not have a perfect life—there would be obstacles for both of them to face, concerning their pasts, their present, and their future—but it would be as close to perfect as anything could be, because both of them had discovered an important truth. Both had discovered where they truly belonged.