Lord Will & Her Grace (25 page)

She pushed him away from her.

The pounding in her throat made it difficult
to speak properly. "I forgave you long ago, William. More than you
know. But, you are correct about my old-fashioned morals. I find
I'm not made for casual affairs. My upbringing cannot be overcome
no matter how great the immediate gratification. I refused to see
you as I didn't want to be tempted—for the hours and days after
would torment me for a lifetime. Now I beg you to go away from
here… from me." She looked up at him with tears brimming in her
eyes.

"But I don't want a casual affair with you,"
he replied with impatience. "I never have."

"But that is all you can offer me now." She
examined her hands. The starkness of his open expression was almost
too painful to witness.

"Ah. So it is true—what my brother relayed? I
understand Lord Drummond was here. My guess is that he was sniffing
about, his hat in hand and his heart on his sleeve." His eyes
narrowed. "You've accepted him?"

Her throat was sore from checked tears and
she couldn't speak. She shook her head.

Abruptly, he pulled her into his arms and
buried his face in her hair. "Is the thought of a life spent with
me so abhorrent?"

Sophie tried to remain all awkward elbows and
angles, but failed. She softened and allowed herself the momentary
illusion of comfort within his embrace. She held back the tears
threatening to spill from her tightly closed eyes.

He leaned close to her ear. "Hush, my love.
I'm sorry. I can't bear to hear you cry." He kissed her temple. "I
only came to tell you that… well"— he paused and added in a hoarse
whisper—"I love you. I cannot bear the thought of being without
you."

The tears Sophie had so ruthlessly held in
check for so many months spilled down her cheeks.

"But I'll go away again if it is truly what
you want. It's just that I spent so much time in Yorkshire
arranging the marriage for that silly chit—all for you. I knew it
was what you would want me to do even if I was the not-so-innocent
dupe of their scheme."

Sophie cringed at the mention of his
marriage.

He stroked her head. And she remained pressed
into his neck cloth, unable to give up the false comfort yet.

"And I did fairly well by the girl. The great
lummox of a rich local squire's son, for whom it seems she had a
childhood fondness, was thoroughly convinced she was the ugly
duckling grown into the beautiful swan after Farquhar corseted,
primped and dressed the girl. And Tolworth—a tightfisted man if
ever there was one—was soon drawn to the idea of saving a bundle on
the dowry. It was a love match on every level."

What? Miss Tolworth wed to a squire's son?
Could it be? Sophie cried harder and tightened her grip on his
coat. Vast waves of emotion flowed through her and she struggled to
speak without success.

"I'm rambling… I—I've run out of things to
say. I'd prepared an elegant speech to be delivered in a salon that
was to have been followed by you falling gratefully at my feet,
accepting my explanations and apologizing for thinking the worst of
me and refusing to see me." He touched his hands to her lips to
silence her plea to speak. "When Alex relayed your refusal—in much
kinder terms than what you probably said—I almost decided to stay
away. But, I found I couldn't give up hope unless I faced you one
last time. Ah, Sophie, forgive my stubbornness."

He pulled slightly away from her and lowered
his lips to hers before she could say one word. And he did it
calmly, softly and thoughtfully. Not passionately, not calculated
to titillate, only quietly, to express his deep love for her.

Sophie felt every nuance of his feelings flow
from his lips to hers. And she quieted finally, although speaking
was out of the question. She savored the idea of loving him without
guilt.

Time slowed to the pulse of her heart when
she paused to encounter his open gaze with her own. All masks
dissolved. And for the briefest instant, Sophie looked past the
dark depths of his eyes and glimpsed through the window to his
soul. There were the embers of a burning need haunting his spirit
and a lingering question in his expression.

No words seemed adequate to reassure him. And
if she did speak of the depths of her feelings, she feared the
tears burning the back of her eyes might overcome her again. Only a
forced change of emotion—a lighthearted manner—would rescue her
from unhappy reminiscences of the past.

An idea itched the corners of her mind. It
was wicked, yes, and sinful, and immoral, and deliciously
devilish—just what was wanting and had been wanting for too
long.

And so quite rationally, with every thought
to the impropriety of it, Sophie unfastened the buttons of his
waistcoat.

He swallowed and looked down at her. "My God,
Sophie, what are you doing?"

She smiled through the tears, which had all
but stopped and tried to fashion a coquettish smile on her face.
"Why all this talk of morals and principles has made me remember
that I was never allowed to give you your lessons of so long ago."
She pulled his linen shirt free from his doeskin breeches and
reached up inside to touch the hard planes of his chest.

He wore a painful look of hope and raw
longing. For the first time, Sophie witnessed uncertainty in his
expression.

She continued. "I was to teach you about
Character
, and instill a
Distaste for dandies
as part
of showing you the
Error of your ways
. You remember—C, D and
E?" She slowly drew back one end of his neck cloth, unraveling the
intricate confection.

William stopped her hands with his own, and
stared at her. The burning need she had glimpsed in his depths rose
to the surface. He stood stock-still.

On tiptoe, she reached his face with her
lips, showering him with kisses—on his bronzed, angular cheekbones,
the bridge of his strong nose, on his noble forehead, and last of
all on his full lips. The muscles of his broad back coiled tightly
under her caresses.

Lightly nipping his ear, she whispered,
"Perhaps it is you who should be teaching me about character, for
yours—I am now convinced—is undoubtedly superior to mine." She
disentangled herself from the warmth of his embrace. "But, I shall
live up to my promise of a lesson while you devise a suitable
penance for me for—for reveling in your embrace while believing you
were married to Miss Tolworth." She peeped up to encounter a look
of disbelief on his face.

"I—married to Penelope Tolworth? Who had the
audacity to suggest that?"

"No one. When your brother mentioned you were
arranging a marriage in Yorkshire, I assumed it was your own."

"My brother has never been known for his
clarity," Will replied dryly.

Sophie shook her head. "No, no, Will. He did
me a great courtesy, which cost him greatly in familial pride.
Although it might be a long time before you see it as I do." She
paused, awkwardly. "He had the courage to tell me something of your
past—your years at Eton and visits here.…"

He grasped her small hand in his large
masculine one and looked uncomfortable. "Why, I shall have to fry
his spirits-laden liver and serve it to Mrs. Tickle for
nuncheon."

"I suspected you would say as much. But you
should be forewarned that I shall protect him with my life—so
grateful am I for his forcing me to examine my ill-conceived
notions of your character."

Will looked at her with hunger in his eyes.
"I find I have no interest in talking further about my damn
brother."

She smiled up at him and forced back a flash
of shyness. "May I then—that is—would you allow me to proceed with
the lessons?"

His lips twitched. "If it includes removing
your clothes as well, I could perhaps be persuaded."

Heart hammering, she led him to a sheltered
overhang in the cliff face, plucking his long forgotten greatcoat
from the sand along the way.

Between the heavy fog, and the cliff, no one
would see them except for a bold seagull or two.

He took her hands in his own and stood before
her, searching her face. The heartfelt expression of joy found
deeply lodged in his eyes spoke volumes.

She tugged at the formfitting coat sleeves of
his austere black coat. William took over the removal of the rest
of his clothes and arranged his greatcoat in the remote corner.
Sophie unbuttoned and untied the hidden fastenings of her gown and
chemise and let them slide to the ground. Stepping over the
puffed-up dress and undergarments, she turned into Will's arms.

The sound of waves breaking and the cry of
invisible seagulls in the shroud of fog cocooned them. His
beautiful dark eyes were flooded with happiness and longing. She
reached up to move a lock of his hair from his eyes then touched
her lips to his.

Within moments, Sophie lay on his greatcoat,
her pale body almost fawnlike against the black fabric. She reached
her arms toward him and he joined her, his body covering her own,
the urgency of his desire in evidence.

"Perhaps, I shan't have to help you acquire a
distaste for dandies, after all, my lord." Laughter threaded her
words.

He raised himself on his forearms and arched
an eyebrow. "I've always prided myself in being a quick study,
ma'am."

There, finally, a glimmer of his old roguish
charm surfaced in the corners of his expression—or perhaps it was
just his dimples making an appearance.

His leg fell between hers and nudged the
sensitive juncture of her thighs and he lowered himself reverently
to her breasts, pausing to kiss each tip.

She gasped in pleasure and pushed at his
impossibly strong shoulders. "No, no, this is my lesson. You're
getting ahead of yourself." She urged him to his back and leaned
over him.

Her fingers, tentative at first then more
boldly, touched the length of his body, hesitating only once. He
groaned. "Don't touch me, Sophie, or this will be over before it
has begun."

She stopped, then smiled at him before
placing gentle kisses on his neck down to his flat nipple. She
swirled the small tip of her tongue around him, then nibbled on the
tightened bit of flesh.

"You're going to regret this," he growled
into her ear as her face passed near his. "I am going to disgrace
myself and act like an inexperienced schoolboy."

"I should like to see that better than the
experienced rake."

"I assure you, you would not," he said dryly.
He then groaned and all restraint lost, he grasped her hips and
positioned her over him, urging her to take him. "I can't bear
another moment."

She whispered in his ear, "Well, I cannot
bear it either." Sophie sensed the pulsing heat of him and
experienced a torturous desire to be possessed.

He drew her down, achingly slowly, and firmly
adjusted his hardness to her softness.

She let out her pent up breath. "Oh…"

William stopped, and looked at her with a
closed expression. There was tense restraint in every still bunched
muscle.

She leaned close and kissed the recent scar
on his brow.

"Ah, Sophie, you are about to be granted your
wish."

"The inexperienced schoolboy wish?"

"Precisely."

"Good. You were never allowed to experience
the innocence of youth. We shall bring it back for you."

He closed his eyes and tried to regain
control. Within moments a low rumble of laughter came from him. "My
love, I've reconsidered." He opened his eyes and reached to stroke
the pins from her half-fallen and tangled hair. "I have a
reputation to maintain, don't you know?"

Sophie smiled and found herself unexpectedly
swept beneath him, his greatcoat at her back. He began a slow
rhythm of movements, his actions deep and sure.

When the rising sweet pain of pleasure
overwhelmed her, William strained as deeply as he dared, thrusting
a final fraction to meld their two bodies together. A crest of pure
light swept over them both, and Sophie held her breath to
experience the last wave of rapture.

His overly long hair drifted over her eyelids
and his achingly familiar scent curled through her senses. She was
finally content and at peace.

Long moments passed before he moved to his
side, drawing Sophie alongside the strong planes of his body.
William flung one arm carelessly over his eyes as he regained his
breath. She tried to imprint in her mind the image of his sharply
chiseled face against the white blanket of fog beyond.

He moved his arm to stare into the sky,
revealing the character lines around his eyes and mouth that
betrayed the harshness he had endured in his lifetime. The faintest
trace of gray at his temples added to his mystery.

He turned his head to look at her and
grinned. "I do believe you have cured me of all dreams of kilts and
sporran. Only stays and ribbons shall fill my head—all the days of
my life."

"As long as they are
my
stays."

He wove his fingers into her tangled hair.
"Naturally, my love, for I have already learned the Error of my
ways, thereby saving you the trouble of teaching me. But"—he cocked
his infamous brow— "if your lessons are always so pleasurable,
perhaps we should begin a thorough review." He nuzzled his head
against hers. "I missed you so, my love."

"And I, you."

He gently brushed a kiss on the top of her
head.

"I suppose," she said, "we should go
back."

"The fog
is
lifting," he said, rubbing
the gooseflesh on her arms. "And it wouldn't be at all the thing
to have a passing fisherman spot your petticoats flapping in the
breeze."

Will dragged their rumpled clothes forward
and helped her with her gown. Within minutes, they were clothed,
albeit with more wrinkles than before and with color in their
cheeks.