Lovers Forever (33 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Feeling Nick unobtrusively slip an arm around her waist and pull her slightly to him, she became tinglingly aware of the feel of him, of the warmth of his big body against her own. Her breathing quickened suddenly when she thought of the coming night. He was her husband now, their lives inalterably linked, and even more than a man with a mistress, he now had the right to her body....
“Are you thinking about tonight?” Nick asked huskily against her ear. “I am. In fact, I can hardly wait until these festivities are over and I can have you all to myself.” He brushed a discreet kiss against her temple. “I've missed you these past days, sweetheart—and while your aunts are very nice women and the Rockwells are good friends of mine, I have wished them in Hades a dozen times lately—it seems that one of them has always been under foot—I've not had a moment alone with you since Saturday night.”
Nick's complaint was valid. Her relatives had watched the pair of them like hungry hawks—there had been no chance of a private tête-à-tête between them, and Tess didn't know whether she was pleased or unhappy about it. If she had been able to see him alone, would she have pleaded with him not to go through with the marriage? Was it so important to her that he love her that she was willing to face social ruin rather than marry him? She grimaced. She was a fool!
Forcing a smile to her lips, she said tartly, “If I remember correctly, you were the one who invited the aunts to stay at Sherbourne until the business with Avery was settled.”
“Hmm, so I did,” he replied idly. “And I suppose I did it for strictly altruistic reasons—I mean, it's not possible, is it, that I might have done so in order to please you? Or to make your first days here a little less strange?”
Startled, Tess gaped at him. “Did you?” she asked, incredulous. That thought had not occurred to her.
He smiled. “I'm afraid that particular puzzle you're going to have to work out all by yourself, sweetheart.”
Pallas returned to their vicinity. Bestowing a brief kiss upon her tall grandson's cheek, she said, “I'm afraid that the events of the past few days have utterly worn me out. I've already pleaded my case to the others, and they have sent me on my way. So I'll wish you both a long and happy life together one more time, and then I shall retire.”
Nick agreed that his grandmother was looking tired, and he knew very well that despite the gracious front she had put on, today had been a strain for her. A quizzical expression in his eyes, he asked softly, “And do you, Grandmother? Wish us a long and happy life together?”
She smiled with genuine warmth at both of them, one frail hand brushing a caress across Tess's cheek. “I do indeed.” An imp of mischief suddenly lit her blue eyes. “And don't waste any time presenting me with grandbabies!”
Tess blushed delightfully, and with a little smile that was both pleased and sad, Pallas sailed regally from the room.
The vicar and his wife departed shortly thereafter, and the others did not linger long, either—they'd all been under tension the past week, and having accomplished their most immediate objective, everyone was feeling relaxed and relieved. After more hugs and misty-eyed smiles, the aunts retired upstairs to the splendid suite of rooms that Nicolas had provided for them. The uncles lingered for a few minutes longer, but soon enough they, too, took their leave.
Dropping a kiss on her cheek, Alexander said gruffly, “Be happy, brat. Nick's a fine man.” He threw his friend a teasing glance. “Inclined to be a bit high-handed and arrogant upon occasion, but he'll be good to you.”
Rockwell beamed down at her. “It's true. Nick's the man for you, Tess. You'll see. You might not have wanted to marry him, but you'll thank us for insisting upon it one day. You mark my words if you don't.”
It had been decided that the Rockwells and the staff Nicolas had installed for Tess would continue to stay at the gatekeeper's cottage for the time being. With the smuggling question still to be resolved, and his mind on other things at the moment, Nick hadn't wanted to leave the cottage deserted. The baron and his brother, their fine eyes flashing with excitement, had insisted that they would be on the watch for any nefarious activities. Truth be told, both were looking forward to the prospect of midnight clashes with a band of murderous rogues, should the smugglers dare to return.
It was very quiet in the blue salon after they had departed. Somewhat uneasily, Tess looked at Nicolas. From the warmth of his glance and the sensual twist to his mouth, it was obvious that he wanted to make love to her.
“Don't worry,” he murmured as if reading her thoughts, “while it's true that all I've thought about for the past few hours is the evening ahead and making love to you, I don't intend to ravish you on my grandmother's favorite sofa.”
Tess blushed. “I didn't think you did,” she replied breathlessly. The gleam in his eyes made her heart beat so fast, she was certain it would leap out of her chest. She stammered, “I-if you don't m-m-mind, I think I'll r-r-retire.”
The sensual gleam in the black eyes deepened and made shivers of anticipation slide down her spine. “Yes,” he said thickly, “that's a very good idea. I shall join you shortly.” He brushed a teasing kiss across her lips. “Very shortly.”
Tess fled from the room. To her shame, her body already hummed, eager for his touch. It seemed like months since she had last lain in his arms, and while scolding herself for being such a wanton baggage, she simply couldn't pretend that she wasn't looking forward to her wedding night....
Nicolas remained alone in the blue salon for several more minutes, sipping a final snifter of brandy, thinking about the extraordinary turn his life had taken. He'd spent ten months single-mindedly searching for a suitable bride in the most select homes in all of England, and he had found her where he'd least expected—in a low tavern on a stormy night. He shook his head, smiling softly in memory.
What would have happened, he wondered idly, if he had met Tess under more normal circumstances? Would he have still felt that inexplicable rush of desire and recognition? Would he have realized at his first sight of her—say, at Almack's —that this was the woman for whom he had been looking? Even now he couldn't explain the powerful feeling that she was his, that they were
meant
to be together, that had come over him that night at the Black Pig. He'd taken one look at her, and he'd
known.
His lips twisted. Well, he hadn't known that he was going to marry her, but certainly that he wanted her and that he'd waited a lifetime, perhaps several, to find her again.... What a strange thought! To find her
again.
Shaking off his odd musings, he took another sip of brandy, wandering aimlessly through the silent room, the remains of the marriage feast still scattered atop the various tables. Though the deed was now done, Nick found it astonishing that he was married to Tess Mandeville. A week ago, if anyone had told him that he would take as his bride a daughter of the house of his family's sworn enemy, he would have laughed and thought the person mad. But he, Nicolas Talmage, tenth earl of Sherbourne, had married the heiress Tess Mandeville. Incredible!
Drawn to the portrait of his grandfather, Nick stood beneath it, staring up at the features so like his own. If Benedict had not disappeared with Theresa Mandeville and had remained at Sherbourne Court, what would his grandfather have said about such an unlikely outcome? he wondered. Would he have been satisfied? Pleased that
this
time it was his family who had snatched the heiress right out from underneath the nose of the Mandevilles?
Nicolas studied the chiseled, unsmiling face of his grandfather. None of it mattered now. It had all happened a long time ago. His grandfather was no doubt dead and moldering in his grave somewhere across the sea. Certainly beyond caring about what happened these days. It was he, Nick Talmage, who had a young, enchanting bride waiting for him upstairs, and it was time, he thought pleasurably, that he joined her.
Leaving his half-empty snifter on one of the tables, he walked eagerly to the door, a heavy, pulsating ache already building low in his body. But for some reason he stopped in the middle of the doorway, compelled to look back at the portrait of his grandfather. He blinked. Then he looked again and even took a startled step in that direction—then caught himself. No. It couldn't be. It was just a trick of the light, he told himself roundly as he left the blue salon in search of his bride. Just a trick of the light that for one second had seemed to make his grandfather's hard mouth curve in a faint, triumphant smile....
Despite his eagerness to find her, it was several minutes before Nick stepped into Tess's rooms, which adjoined his. He had taken the time for a swift bath, and it was with his thick hair still damp and his body half dried that he had slid into a gray-and-maroon-striped dressing robe of heavy silk with wide dark gray lapels.
He paused at the door that separated her suite from his, aware of the sudden pounding of his heart and the instant hardening of his body. In a matter of minutes he was going to make love to Tess in the bed where generations of Talmages had been conceived, and he wondered if tonight he and his bride would begin a babe between them. The idea of Tess growing full and round with his baby inside her pleased him. But a baby really didn't matter, he realized with a start; all that really mattered, he admitted baldly, was that she was his!
He pushed open the door and walked into Tess's room. Candlelight bathed the handsome chamber in a golden glow, the flickering light dancing over the sumptuous furnishings and the magnificent bed directly across from him. The bed dominated the room, its silken canopy arched and flaring, four tall, ornately carved spindles draped in hangings of royal purple silk shot with silver. The silver threads gleamed and sparkled bewitchingly in the candlelight, but Nicolas had eyes only for the slim figure with a mass of fiery hair tumbling down her back who stood motionless near the pair of leaded-paned doors that opened to a spacious balcony.
The exultation he felt at the sight of her nearly overwhelmed him. The pulsating ache between his thighs made him aware of just how badly he wanted her and how very glad he was that she was his bride, no matter what the reasons for their marriage.
He stood there admiring the picture she made. She was wearing a gown and peignoir that he had purchased for her while he was in London—the instant he had laid eyes on it, in the shop of a well-known modiste, he had known that it would look breathtakingly enchanting on her, and he was right. It did.
Made of the finest silk, in a hue of such a deep purple that it looked almost black, the gown had long, full sleeves of some sheer, gauzy material in a color just a few shades lighter than the gown itself. The same gauzy material fashioned the peignoir's full, swinging skirt with its soft flounces. The image of Tess's white skin gleaming seductively through the sheer peignoir had provided him with several erotic daydreams recently, but tonight it was the way the gown looked on Tess that made his breath catch in his throat.
Her red-gold hair flashed like fire against the purple silk. The low-cut, scalloped neckline framed her shoulders and gave a provocative hint of her bosom, just as he had known it would. The narrowly cut garment clearly delineated her slender body, but it was the row of tiny silver buttons that ran from neckline to hem that had his gaze riveted—Nick had spent quite a few restless, sleepless hours of late, thinking of undoing those buttons one by one with his hot, seeking mouth. . . .
He nearly groaned aloud at the surge of desire that swept through him as he imagined how very sweet she was going to taste. She was still unaware of his presence. Tamping down the urge simply to scoop her up in his arms and make love to her, he said lightly, “I hope it is not anything I have done that has put that wistful expression on your sweet face.”
Tess jumped and swung round to face him.
“Nick!
You startled me,” she cried, startled from whatever unproductive musings had held her attention. “I didn't hear you enter.”
He searched her pale features keenly, noting the shadows in the depths of her amethyst eyes. “What is it?” he asked huskily as he reached for her and pulled her against his hard body. “What makes you look like you are awaiting your jailor, instead of a husband who wants only happiness for you?”
Her eyes clung to his. “You can't pretend that you really wanted to marry me, that if circumstances had been different, you wouldn't have walked—no, run from marriage to
me.”
“Hmm, is that so?” he asked mildly, dropping a warm kiss on her collarbone. “It seems to me,” he murmured, “that I've gotten
precisely
the bride I wanted.” At her expression of openmouthed astonishment, he laughed and swung her up in his arms. “Come to bed, sweetheart, and let me show you just how very much I want you....”
Chapter Nineteen
T
ess knew that once he started making love to her, any opportunity to discuss their marriage calmly would be lost. The instant he laid her on the bed, she scrambled away from him. One hand held out, her eyes huge, she said breathlessly, “Wait! I know you want me—
that
has been plain from the beginning. But are you really as accepting of this marriage to me as you seem to be? Are you
really
able to dismiss the long-standing enmity between our two families so easily?”
The last thing Nick wanted to discuss was his own confused state of emotions, but it was apparent that his bride wasn't going to prove very cooperative of his plans for the remainder of the evening unless he answered her. He eyed her for a long moment, wondering if, with a few judiciously placed kisses he could avoid the subject she so obviously wanted to discuss. The determined look on her face told him not even to try.
Sighing, Nick threw himself onto the bed. Lying on his back, he put his hands behind his head. Staring at the purple-and-silver canopy above him, he admitted bluntly, “You're not the bride I thought I would find, and I won't pretend otherwise. On the other hand . . .” He sent her a long, slow look, the unfathomable black eyes moving over her like a warm caress. “On the other hand, you are
exactly
the bride I was looking for.”
Tess looked confused and pleased at the same time. “What do you mean?”
Nick held up one shapely hand and said, ticking off each fact on his fingers, “You're well born. You're well connected. And if Rockwell is to be believed”—he grinned at her—“you're also an heiress. The first two were qualities I wanted in my bride; the third, considering my own circumstances, is merely a pleasant benefit.”
“I see,” Tess said slowly, not liking his words. “And those reasons were sufficient to tie yourself to me for the rest of your life?”
Turning onto his side, he reached out a caressing hand toward her face. “They would do,” he said softly. “They have been reasons enough for many couples of our ilk. But they weren't the only reasons I was willing to marry you.” His voice deepening, the expression in his black eyes making Tess feel decidedly weak, he murmured huskily, “You've lain in my arms and I've tasted the fire in you and I find that I have developed a certain addiction to that fire....” He observed the flush on her cheeks with interest for several seconds before adding, “You're also incredibly lovely, gallant, loyal, and honest. A man could do worse than to marry a woman with those qualities.”
Tess's eyes dropped from the intensity of his gaze. She couldn't help but be pleased and flattered by what he had said, even if he hadn't said the words she most wanted to hear.... Was she being silly to want to hear him say that he had fallen madly in love with her ... as she had with him? Was she foolishly yearning for the moon? Sadly, she admitted that she probably was and that for the time being, at least, she should consider herself lucky that her husband thought she was lovely and loyal. That knowledge warmed her, pushing aside some of the foreboding that had plagued her. He didn't love her yet, but perhaps in time ...
His hand was warm against her cheek, and she was conscious of his long body lying on the bed and the fact that, underneath his robe, he was naked. And that he wanted her.... Increasingly aware of the erotic hum within herself, she wanted nothing more than to leave off questioning his motives and give herself up to the magic of his lovemaking. But there was one more question that she had to have answered.
Her eyes met his, and in a low voice she demanded, “And the feud between our families? You're able to put that aside?”
Nick hesitated, and Tess's heart sank. He hated her! He would
never
love her! And all because she was a Mandeville!
Correctly interpreting her expression, he shook his head. “No, I don't hate you—or your aunts.” His expression thoughtful, he added quietly, “Alexander was perfectly correct, you know, when he said that the feud was none of our making and that there was no reason for us to continue it.” His gaze met hers steadily. “I could have wished that you were
not
a Mandeville, but that fact isn't pertinent any longer—you're a Talmage, now.” He brushed her mouth with his. “Have you forgotten,” he said softly, “that as of this evening you became my very beautiful wife, the countess of Sherbourne?”
With an unexpected lump in her throat, Tess shook her head. “I haven't forgotten—I just didn't want the past to shadow our future.” Her lips twisted. “We started out badly enough as it is.”
“But
was
it so bad?” he asked intently, his hands framing her face, his mouth inches from hers. “I know that I shall always remember and look back with great fondness on that first night at the Black Pig....”
Her eyes a misty hue of purple, Tess slowly shook her head. “No,” she said huskily, “it wasn't so very bad.”
Nick groaned, and unable to restrain himself a moment longer, he kissed her as he had been longing to do for days, his tongue taking blatant possession of her mouth. She was fine wine and sweet ambrosia all in one. The mere taste of her sent his head spinning, and the passion he had barely been able to hold in check these past days exploded through him.
He kissed her hungrily, his mouth hard against hers, his hands seeking her soft curves as he pushed her down into the waiting pillows of the bed. She was so soft, so sweet, and he wanted her so desperately that it was all he could do not to rip that lovely gown off her slender body and find relief from his aching manhood between her thighs. With an effort, he tore his mouth from hers. His lips buried against her throat, he muttered, “I've had all sorts of ideas about how I was going to take this slowly, woo you, but I find that one taste of you and all my plans have gone flying into the air—all I can think of is what dear heaven it will be to feel myself sinking into your silken warmth....”
He was half lying on her, the weight of his body exciting and arousing, his rigid shaft pressing boldly against her thigh. At his evocative words, a shiver of anticipation went down her spine. Her body was already pliant and eager for him, her eyes dreamy, as she caressed his thick black hair. “What sort of ideas?” she asked hazily.
He raised up and looked into her face. A wicked grin slashed across his mouth. “Oh, ideas,” he drawled,
“such
ideas, sweetheart, ideas that will give us both a great deal of pleasure....”
His mouth came down warmly on hers, and he kissed her thoroughly, his hands holding her face still for his plundering. Her hands tightened in his hair, her body racked by burgeoning, hungry demands for more. He barely had to touch her and she came violently alive, the ache between her legs deepening and intensifying, her nipples filling and hardening, her breasts becoming heavy and sensitive to the slightest caress. Tess gave a soft moan when his lips finally left hers and traveled with tantalizing slowness down her throat and across her chest to the first button at the top of her low-cut gown.
Nick's mouth was busy with that first button, and his hands slid from her face to gently cup and fondle her small breasts. The second button and then a third, a fourth, a fifth ... a sixth gave way to his teeth, and Tess was aware of a burning impatience within herself. These gentle, half-teasing caresses were not enough; her body was on fire for him, and she was aware of a shocking desire simply to rip away the confining garment, to rend asunder anything that kept her body from his.... She twisted restlessly under his teasing caresses, her legs thrashing against the silky coverlet, as the fire low in her belly grew stronger and more fierce.
Eagerly she reached for him, her hands gliding across his shoulders, pushing aside the robe he wore. His flesh was warm and smooth, and she almost purred aloud at the pleasure it gave her to touch him, his broad shoulders, the smooth back, and the crisp, curly hair of his muscled chest.
The feel of his mouth against her naked breast, the flick of his tongue, the gentle rasp of his teeth, made her gasp. Unconsciously her fingers clenched against his chest, and he gave a low, muffled sound of encouragement. As fascinated by his body as he seemed to be with hers, she circled one flat nipple, exploring its pebbly hardness with her fingers, and he groaned again. Pleased with her efforts, she moved to the other nipple and played with it for a moment or two before her hand slid slowly downward, across his flat stomach to the loose knot in the sash of his robe.
Nick sucked in his breath when her fingers lingered there. Muttering incoherently, he reared up for a second, impatiently undid the sash, and shrugged out of the robe. He turned back to her, and with a crooked smile on his mouth, he murmured, “Now where was I?”
The look on his face made Tess suddenly breathless. Her gown was still only partially open, veeing down to a point almost to her stomach, the edges of her unbuttoned bodice lying on either side of her body. A warm glow lit his eyes as they fell upon her exposed breasts, her skin appearing almost as pale and smooth as fine alabaster against the deep purple gown, her nipples boldly upstanding and rosy from his ministrations. His smile slipped slightly, and in a thickened voice he said, “I think, I remember ... I was right....” He bent his head, and as his tongue curled hungrily around one nipple, he muttered,
“Here.
...”
A streak of sweet fire arrowed directly from the wicked teasing of his mouth to the pooling warmth between her legs, and Tess arched up against the tug of his teeth on her breast. A dozen emotions knifed through her as his hand swept lower, caressing her hip, then her buttocks, his strong fingers kneading the soft flesh he found there as his lips and teeth feasted on her. She burned for him. Wanted him. Ached for him.
Loved
him....
Letting him work his dark wizardry on her eager flesh, she splayed her hands against his broad chest, her fingers clenching and unclenching contentedly like cat's claws in the springy hair. She could feel his rigid shaft, pushing warm and heavy between her thighs. Only the silken fabric of her gown prevented their joining as he half lay over her. Teasingly she moved against its thick, impressive length, reveling in her own powers when Nick groaned and cupped her buttocks and pulled her even closer.
“If you don't stop that,” he said breathlessly, looking up at her, “I won't be able to show you the rest of my ideas....”
With half-closed eyes, drowsy with desire, Tess stared at him, her fingers lovingly tracing the intelligent brow, the bold angle of his nose, and the chiseled outline of those wicked lips. “Oh?” she murmured. “You mean I can distract you from your goal?”
His eyes grew even blacker with the powerful emotions that went through him. “Yes,” he said in a strange tone, “I'm very much afraid that you can....”
She smiled dreamily, not really believing him but too aroused to care. “Then I suppose I should let you continue, shouldn't I?”
“Yes,” he muttered, his hand tightening on her hips, crushing her for one provocative moment against his aching, swollen member, “you very definitely should—I think you'll find it quite, quite ...
illuminating....”
His hands loosened and he shifted slightly away from her, his teeth instantly busy with more buttons, the heat of his mouth as he slowly, inexorably moved downward making Tess shiver. The urge to arch up and rub against him was overpowering, but she consoled herself by caressing his lean hips and long back.
Lost in her own erotic exploration, she hadn't really thought about what Nick was doing until his mouth began to work at the button low on her abdomen. Her breath caught, and dazedly she felt the scrape of his teeth at the top of the patch of tightly curled hair at the junction of her thighs. The next button was lower, just above where she was most yearning for his touch, and a shudder went through her when she felt his lips begin to toy maddeningly with that strategically placed button.
Her breath suspended, her heart racing, Tess waited impatiently for what would come next. She was already fully aroused, already wet and ready for him. Her breasts were unbearably sensitive, the nipples stinging pleasurably from his previous tastings, and she arched up helplessly against his marauding lips. When he buried his face deeper against her flesh, his warm breath and probing tongue pressing against the material that kept him from directly touching the soft, aching flesh between her legs, she stiffened and tried to move away. Sensations she had never dreamed of rose up within her, frightening her as much as they pleasured.

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