Invitation to Ruin (37 page)

His eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to push you away. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to love you as you deserve. But most of all I’m sorry for introducing you to the evil that was Rothsay.” Anthony stared pleadingly at her. “If he laid a hand on you …”

* * *

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” It wasn’t a lie. A man like Rothsay could never hurt her. Not when she had Anthony’s love.

   At her simple denial, a shudder racked him and slowly he lowered his head all the way to her lap. He clung to her, unworthy as he was, and prayed she would forgive him. “I fought against loving you,” he murmured. “I tried to convince myself that what I felt was merely lust. But deep down, I recognized the truth. That’s why I was determined to push you away.”

She held him in her embrace for a long moment, nuzzling his cheek with her soft lips as she bent over his back and stroked him lovingly.

She still hadn’t said she forgave him. His voice was muffled from her embrace “I can perfectly understand if you hate me. I hate myself.”

“I don’t hate you.” Her voice was barely audible.

Anthony pulled out of her embrace and threw his hands up in the air. “Despise me then—God knows I despise myself.”

She gave a whispered reply. “I don’t despise you, either.”

Emotion flickered in her eyes, brief, but there for an instant, the one he wanted so desperately to see.

Anthony closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His body shook from the effort of keeping his voice low and even. “Do you forgive me?”

“Anthony.” She curled her fingers around his trembling hands, gazing at him intensely. “You don’t need
my
forgiveness—”

Despair wrenched at his gut. “I do …”

She shook her head. “No. You need to forgive yourself. You’ll always have my forgiveness. I love you.”

   He lifted his shattered gaze and stared at her, lost.

“I love you, you fool. I’ve always loved you. But the only person who can heal you is you. Let go of the past. Open
your heart to love and heal.” She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I love you,” she murmured again and again.

He groaned. “I love you, too. I only want you. Say you won’t leave me. I am not as strong as you. I would not survive without you.”

“You are the strongest man I know.”

Without any hesitation Anthony declared, “Not without you. Not without you by my side.” He paused. “Not without you and our child.”

“Our child,” she repeated softly with a hint of warmth. “You know?” she said, and her voice filled with wonder.

He nodded. “I’m no longer afraid. I know how to love a child. I’ll love our child. A child who deserves both his parents. A child who deserves a warm, loving family. We can give him that—together.”

She looked into her husband’s silver-gray eyes, so filled with love she thought her heart would fracture. She didn’t deserve a man with such courage. To have overcome his upbringing and to survive with a heart still whole was truly inspiring.

She caught his face, framed it in both hands, held it so she could see every nuance. “You really love me? And you want our child?”

“I need you. I want you. I love you. Always.”

His words burned in her brain. “I never thought I’d be so lucky.”

He rose and swept her up into his arms. “I’m the one who has been blessed with luck. More, much more. I’ve been blessed with your love.” He stalked across the room, bid her open the door, and then in front of gawking servants, climbed the stairs to his bedchamber. Not stopping until he’d laid her gently on his bed.

   He stood staring down at her, soaking in her beauty. “I’m so thankful Richard gave me the wrong directions and I found you, because you’ve captured my soul. I love you so much that when you are not with me I am only half a man.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve loved you almost since the first time I saw you. I think I recognized a kindred soul. We both have known little of love.”

He came down on the bed beside her and stroked his hand over her stomach. “We will learn together. I’ll work hard to be a husband you can be proud of. I’ll love, honor, and cherish you for all the world to see. I want to be a family.”

   She felt the passion behind his declaration. “That is all I’ve ever wanted. A family to love and to love me.”

   Her radiant smile, the one he’d kept in his head over the long lonely weeks, made it seem as if the sun had suddenly begun to shine within his bedchamber. Tenderly, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“You truly don’t regret being forced to marry me?” It seemed his lovely wife needed more assurance.

“Hush, you idiot. I love you, Melissa, and I’m not letting you go—ever.” His voice softened. “You’ve saved me from a life of living hell.”

“You saved yourself.”

“I tried desperately not to love you, but you were so very hard to resist, especially when you blatantly set out to seduce me. God, I thought I was going to go mad with desire.”

“I wasn’t very good at it. You still left me.”

He slowly began the delicate task of unfastening the hooks and tapes of her clothing, turning her disrobing into an exercise in sensual pleasure. “If you’d not been so good at it, I would not have had to run away from you.” Finally he bared her completely. He was getting drunk on her beauty.

She lay before him in her natural splendor. “I was good at it? I made you want me?”

He shuddered, his hungry gaze lingering on the pale flesh he’d exposed. “So good, if I hadn’t taken your virginity I would be asking you some very pertinent questions.”

He reached out to stroke her. His palm barely brushed her nipple, and she arched her back in ecstasy.

“It was Cassandra’s book,” she sighed.

“I really should read more.” His lips curved in a smile as he bent his head and took her nipple between his lips.

Melissa’s breathing changed, going more shallow as his hand roamed lower to the soft curls between her thighs. “Madame du Barry’s book, the French courtesan, taught me a lot, but some of her teachings I just could not …”

He lifted his head from her breast and looked into her eyes. “Couldn’t what?”

Her faced flamed with color. “I couldn’t understand how they would work.”

He smiled tenderly at his wife. “You don’t need any book to learn about making love. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. In fact, I probably won’t ever let you leave this bed.”

“You won’t tire of me?”

His heart melted at the probing, insecure note in her voice. “I have not had a mistress, or any other woman, since the night I mistakenly came to your bed.”

“I suppose you have been busy chasing Rothsay and his white slavery ring.”

“I don’t have a mistress because I don’t want one. I haven’t thought about another woman or wanted one since I met you.”

“You haven’t?”

Anthony rolled her beneath him. He held her gaze and nudged her thighs apart, settling between them. “I couldn’t get a black-haired regal temptress out of my head. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Truly? The Lord of Wicked is no more?”

Something twisted in his chest, making it difficult to take a breath. “Of all the women in the world, there is none I want to devote my life to, none I want to love more, none I need more, than you.” His voice became teasing. “I still want to be wicked, but only with you. Will you let me show you?”

   She could see it in the silver heat of his eyes, see the fire and the feeling behind his heartfelt statement. He bent his head and kissed her—long and deep.

It was minutes later before he caught his breath enough to murmur, “You forgive me?”

She reached up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You have not been listening, my darling man—there is nothing to forgive. You love me. That is all that matters.”

   In that moment he knew, not only that he loved her, loved her and their child more than his own life, but that no matter what, he always would.

She smiled in fervent ardor. Reaching up, she drew his head down, kissed him—delicately, tantalizingly, holding at bay the fire that was beginning to rage between them. “I love you. I want to be a proper wife to you.” She whispered the words against his lips. “Take me. Show me how much you want me. Brand me with your love so that I never forget you are mine, as I am yours—always.”

“You don’t know how hard I prayed to hear those words.” He took control of the kiss, plundering her mouth, then tilted her hips and entered her. He drank her gasp as he inexorably pressed into her tight sheath. All the way in. He loved her, wanted her, and needed her.

   Melissa gave herself up to it, up to him—surrendered completely. She trusted him to protect her, to love her, and to cherish her. She opened her body to him, opened her heart, and offered him her soul.

It felt right, it felt comfortable, and it felt amazing. She belonged here—in Anthony’s bed. Finally, she was his wife in more than name.

Their breaths mingled through the shattered sobs and low groans, as their heated bodies moved together. As the pace increased and the depth of his passion and need broke over her—buffeted her, pleasured her—a deeper understanding dawned.

He was showing her that he loved her, that she was all that mattered. She would never love him more than she did at that precise moment.

He sensed her release, and she felt his control slip. His desire broke free, took hold, and drove him relentlessly, while she sobbed and held him to her as he came apart in her arms.

   His last coherent thought was of their child, the product of a mistaken night. A mistake he would be eternally grateful for having made. As the wave broke and took him, left him gasping and thoroughly sated, he felt the ghosts of his past lift from his shoulders.

   As they drifted, buoyed on the fading glory, she felt a peace in her heart. She’d found her prince, her friend, her lover…. Together they could face anything. They belonged together—him for her, her for him.

Two halves of the same coin, bonded by a power nothing could break. Together, their life would be filled only with joy.

She was sure of it.

For she had tamed, captured, and claimed the heart of the Lord of Wicked. She gave a little giggle and inwardly admitted she hoped he’d not be too tame. She thought of her favorite book,
The Secrets of a French Courtesan
. Lessons she hoped to put to use very soon. Her quiet laughter filled the bedchamber. There was no time like the present.

Anthony stretched beside her. “I am out of practice. You shouldn’t have the energy to laugh after I have ravished you.” His fingers toyed with her, fondling her breasts, caressing them with both hands. “I shall have to try harder.”

A breathless moan was her response. “Oh, I do hope so, my lord.” Impatiently, she pushed Anthony onto his back and rose up over him, trailing kisses across his chest. “I’m sure I could provide you with a few instructions. You’ll find I am a match for the Lord of Wicked.”

He pulled her down, hard against him, letting her feel his burgeoning erection, and reverently whispered against her lips, “I know you are, my love. My perfect match.”

London, four months later
…

W
ith enraptured eyes, Anthony watched the raven-haired beauty cradle the baby in her arms and state her vow, before God, to love him. Lord Philip Dorrington, who only a minute ago had been squealing in Anthony’s arms, as he’d made his own vows of God parenting, lay cooing quietly in his wife’s gentle hold.

He took pride in the woman standing beside him, all eyes watching as she quietly and earnestly agreed to look after Philip. Anthony’s love for her was heightened by the joyful knowledge that soon he would be holding their own child in his arms. Melissa, though round in her pregnancy, looked radiant, glowing with health and happiness. Her fair skin luminous in the candlelit, shadow-filled church.

As she handed the baby back to his mother, Melissa lifted her face and smiled her heart-stopping smile. The smile that every day made him feel incredibly blessed and thoroughly loved. Her gaze cloaked him in love. Her love. He would never get enough of it.

The christening service ended, and they made their way back out into the late January sunshine. Anthony stopped on the steps of the church, immune to the cold, watching his wife laugh and chat with the other guests as they drifted toward the group of carriages on the street below. How barren
his life would have been had his brother not played him false and tricked him into her bed, compelling him to wed her.

Richard had no idea how much Anthony owed him. He’d never be able to repay his twin if he lived to be a hundred.

He felt his body stirring as he watched her. The carriage ride back to Freddie’s house would take at least half an hour. A devilish smile formed on his lips. Melissa turned and caught his look. The smile Melissa sent him in response was so arousing, so womanly, so inviting—that need slammed into his chest and he descended the church steps and hurried toward his carriage.

In the past few months, Melissa had made them experiment with every position in her courtesan’s book. Even the Lord of Wicked was sometimes surprised, or maybe the pleasure was more enhanced because of the deep abiding love he felt for her. They spent magical hours learning about each other’s bodies, becoming true lovers, delighting in each other’s passion, always ending by making hot passionate love wherever and whenever they could. They fell deeper in love every day.

He pictured Melissa naked in their bed … perhaps they wouldn’t be missed at the christening party.

Anthony lifted Melissa into the carriage and felt the tremble running through her hands. His body throbbed contemplating her response once the doors closed.

Once seated inside, Melissa scolded, “You can wipe that look off your face. I am not missing Philip’s christening party. We are his godparents, after all.”

He pulled her onto his lap, his hands finding the silken skin of her thighs beneath her skirts. “I wouldn’t dream of missing the event.” His lips brushed hers gently. “It’s a half hour journey; I can think of several ways to ensure we stay warm for the duration.”