Margaret Moore (22 page)

“W
hat do you mean?” Rob asked, puzzled.

“He says that if I do not marry him, he will sue my uncle for breach of promise.”

Rob’s mind worked as fast as it ever had.

Sir Philip had a case, possibly a good one. Mr. Burroughs had agreed to preliminary terms; Rob had the notes to prove it. He also had the tentative draft of the marriage settlement, finished and sitting in the drawer of his desk.

To be sure, the contract itself was unsigned, but there was enough to establish a case for Sir Philip, and women had won judgments with less evidence.

“You think he could do it?” she asked anxiously. “You think he has a case?”

“Unfortunately, he may. Your uncle did make verbal assurance in my hearing that the wedding would take place.”

“Nothing was signed, was it?” Vivienne asked, worried that things had happened of which she was ignorant.

“No, not yet—but I have the preliminary documentation of the wedding agreement, proof of both parties’ belief that the marriage was forthcoming.”

“This is bad, isn’t it, Rob?”

“Yes.” He raked his hand through his damp hair. “I confess this never occurred to me. I fear Sir Philip is a smarter man than I took him for—and it is always a mistake to underestimate your adversary.”

“But surely he won’t win.”

“He might, if he has a good lawyer.”

“Not you?”

Rob had to smile. “No, my love, most certainly not I.”

“You could—No, you must not.”

“What?”

“I was going to suggest you represent my uncle and me.”

“I could not, for I would have to testify on Sir Philip’s behalf as to the documentation and your uncle’s remarks.” He sighed heavily. “Which will not endear me to your uncle.”

“No—but he has only himself to blame should this lawsuit come to pass. He will be paying for his haste to accept Philip at his word, and for his refusal to listen to my protests when this marriage was first proposed.” A hopeful look blossomed on her face. “Perhaps when Philip realizes my uncle will be like a fighting dog with his opponent’s ear in his teeth, he will think better of his plan.”

“I hope so,” Rob said with a sigh. “Your reputation has already been forfeit, and I fear that will not be the end of it, especially if Sir Philip does what he threatens. There will be more scandal.”

“I truly don’t care about that. You have already endured more prejudice and innuendo than I ever will, and for no good reason, so I think I can endure some whispers.”

“When we marry, there will be more whispers and rumors.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Therefore, while I would quite happily wed you tomorrow, I believe we must be patient and wait for a few months, even if Philip does reconsider suing my uncle.”

She sounded so confident, and yet he had thought of something else that obviously she had not. “Vivienne, it could be that we may not be able to wait.”

“I am as anxious as you, my love, but—”

“But what if we have made a child?”

Her glorious smile reached into his heart and lightened it anew. “If it is so, we shall have to reconsider our plans. But let us look at the good side. If I am with child, my uncle will surely want to marry me off as quickly as possible. There is no way on earth Philip will have me if I bear another man’s child, unless it is the king’s, so there are worse fates that could befall me than bearing your baby. Indeed,” she concluded in a loving whisper, “I would welcome that more than I can say.”

He laughed quietly, but joyously. Wondrously. In a way he had never really laughed in his life as he gathered her into his arms. “Gad, Vivienne, whatever comes, I will face it, and gladly, if you are by my side!”

“And once we are man and wife, I will never leave you, Rob. Not as long as I live.”

The old sense of unworthiness came back to him, and before he could conquer it, he said, “Not even for the king?”

“Certainly not,” she replied without hesitation. “If our sovereign does harbor any lascivious notions, I will make sure he knows I do not reciprocate.”

“He is the king, Vivienne.”

“He is a man, Rob, and one who has plenty of women eager to be in his bed. As he said, he has never had to take a woman by force.” Her embrace tightened. “Let us think of other things now, when we are together and alone.”

“Very well,” he agreed as her hands began to stroke him and the light scent of her perfume entranced his senses.

“Let us think of our future together,” she whispered, shifting closer and sliding her hand down his chest, “when I will have you in the house every day, and every night.”

Rob grabbed her hand and pressed a hot kiss to her palm. “You are a temptress, Vivienne.”

“Determined,” she corrected, running her other hand up his muscular thigh.

“Passionate,” he sighed as his lips stole along her cheek.

“Stubborn,” she moaned as his hand stroked her breast and he kissed her with all the fire she roused within him. She arched toward him, her mouth moving over his with unspoken desire and invitation.

Slowly, slowly, her hands moved up his arms, her touch inflaming him even more.

“Oh, Vivienne,” he sighed, reveling in her embrace. “I love you more than I have words to express. I will love you till the day I die.”

“Then love me tonight, in my bed,” she said, her voice a low, enticing whisper.

He drew back, uncertain. “Tonight?”

She smiled, her eyes both understanding and teasing in a way that smote him to the heart. “Now you need not have any concern for my honor, sir, if we are found together. I have none, remember? I gave it away for love.” Her eyes sparkled with captivating mischief. “And I love you too much to send you back out into the rain.”

Rob tugged Vivienne back into his arms. “I didn’t think I could ever be this happy,” he said softly before he kissed her.

With equal fervor, she returned the kiss, passion meeting passion and exploding into burning desire.

He swiftly untied the lacing of her bodice. Sighing, she twisted so that it was loose enough for him to slide his hand into it and caress her warm, soft breast.

Excitement swept over and into them. Rob shucked off his shirt and let it fall to the ground, regardless of his usual care of the few things he possessed.

Vivienne wriggled out of her gown and it puddled in a heap of silk and satin on the floor.

Rob bent down to pull off his stockings and when he straightened, Vivienne wore only her thin chemise, made of fabric so fine it was nearly transparent. Her breasts rose and fell with her quick breaths and the aroused peaks of her nipples pressed against the thin material.

“Oh, sweet heaven,” he muttered thickly, his voice weighty with desire as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to her bed. She sank deep into the featherbed, on the clean white sheets and silk damask spread.

Nearby, beeswax candles flickered, sending shadows of the bedcurtains and his body dancing on the tester. The polished wood smelled of wax and wealth.

“What is it?” she whispered, watching him.

“I have never been in a bed like this.”

“Only
on
one.”

“Nor with such a wonderful, desirable woman,” he murmured, forgetting the furnishings as he gazed at her questioning face. “I feel like a pauper in a princess’s chamber.”

She reached up to caress his cheek. “Rob, I was the poor one until I met you,” she whispered. “I was alone, with nothing and no one. You have saved me from that. You are my knight, my champion, my dearest, dearest love.”

Her hand moved lower, to the buttons of his breeches, which were strained against the evidence of his arousal. “We are equals here, Rob. Equal in love and equal in need.”

“My darling, my love,” he murmured, feeling the weight of his past slipping from his shoulders. He would be tender and gentle, not as he had been before.

He would be the lover she deserved. “I am going to pleasure you, my love. I want you to feel as you have never felt before,” he vowed as he pulled off his breeches and lay back down beside her.

How can that be?
she wondered vaguely as his lips swept down upon hers.
What more could there possibly be?

She soon found out as he stroked and caressed her as if they had all the time in the world together. Then his lips moved, trailing his marvelous fingers.

It was as if her body were a new country, more foreign to her in its responses than to the man exploring it. He seemed to know every small, secret place where a touch of fingertip or lip would send her into dizzying new realms of pleasure and sensation, until she lost track of all the places he touched.

Then her breath caught in her throat as his palm came to rest between her legs. Arching, she pressed against him, the feeling that engendered both wonderful and yet lacking.

He kissed her collarbone and she clutched the hard curve of his shoulders, oblivious to almost everything except the constant pressure of his hand. Slowly, he began to move his hand, increasing the pressure ever so slightly, while his mouth teased her nipples through the thin fabric of her chemise.

The movement of his hand quickened, and she could think no more. All she could do was surrender to the sensations.

Incredible sensations, of fullness and fire and tension building. Building.

She knew what she wanted, needed, had to have—what he had done before. As marvelous as she felt now, she would still feel incomplete until he was inside her.

When he was ready. When she had made him ready, as ready and anxious as she was.

He groaned softly as her tongue flicked across his naked chest, the hairs tickling her nose.

His chin nuzzled her chemise lower and lower, until he captured her nipple between his lips. His tongue flicked over her as she squirmed, held prisoner by that never-ending pressure of his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles.

Then his finger slipped inside her—and she was over the brink, carried away on waves of such incredible feeling and relief that she cried out, unthinking of who might hear, until his mouth swooped down upon hers and silenced her with an ardent kiss.

Still arching, still throbbing, she thrust her tongue into his mouth. A low moan escaped his throat as he moved over her and between her parted knees.

She took hold of his shoulders and raised herself to meet him. Her hand guided him eagerly.

He pushed inside her—and again a cry of pleasure rose in her throat. She pressed her mouth to the bare skin of his neck to stifle it.

He thrust inside her again and again, powerfully virile, making her his. Possessing her as she was possessing him, taking all that he offered and giving all of herself.

With a fierce, savage, guttural growl, he stiffened and new waves of sensation rocked her, leaving her spent and weak as he laid his head on her chest, her damp chemise against his cheek.

“I wanted …” he began, panting softly, “I wanted to be slower this time.”

Enveloped in the bliss of love, she laughed softly. “You were. Any slower, and you would have murdered me.”

“I did not think I was so fine a lover that I could kill you with desire.”

She was even more delighted to hear the hint of laughter in his voice. “I assure you, you could.”

He withdrew and moved to lie beside her, insinuating one muscular arm beneath her so that she lay nestled in his arms, her head against his chest.

He lightly ran his finger over her cheek.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, seeing a small wrinkle between his brows.

“Of the first time I felt velvet,” he said. “It was so soft, like something from another world. But it was not as soft as your skin.”

“Where was it? How old were you?”

“I was … perhaps seven, give or take a year.” He sighed. “I confess I don’t really know how old I am. Finnigan stole a child’s velvet coat. He put it on me and said what a fine gentleman I looked. He thought that very funny.”

“If he could see you as Heartless Harding the solicitor, he would not laugh.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“It must have been so terrible, Rob.”

“I daresay it was, but I thought everybody lived like that. Some days, I honestly believed I lived well because Finnigan didn’t beat me very often. Jack and Janet were beaten nearly daily by their father, until he fell beneath a wagon one night when he was drunk and was crushed to death.”

She winced and he hugged her a moment. “Forgive me, Vivienne. Parts of my life are so sordid and terrible.”

“If I am to be your wife, please don’t try to shield me.” She sighed. “I wish we could marry tomorrow,” she murmured as she caressed his naked chest.

“So do I,” he replied. He kissed the top of her head. “I confess a part of me doubts what is happening, as if this were all but a blissful dream.”

“I only hope our love can make up for what you’ve endured. If there is anyone undeserving here, it is I. I have done nothing—”

“Except love me. And be the most brave, determined, unprejudiced person I have ever known. Most women of your class would flee in horror from marriage to a man who grew up as I did.”

“Which would only prove them stupid fools, and I am very glad not to be counted among them,” she replied pertly.

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in her ear as he embraced her. “Gad, Vivienne, you make me happy.”

“You make me happy and, I fear, wicked,” she said in a low seductive whisper as she began to pull off her chemise. “What else would explain this sudden desire to be as naked as you, my love?”

“A need to be loved again, perhaps?” he suggested hoarsely.

“Is it too soon?”

“If it is, we shall find a way to spend the time until I am able,” he promised with a rueful—and incredibly seductive—chuckle.

A watchman called out the hour.

“Lord, is it that late?” Rob cried softly, regrettably letting go of her. “I had better leave.”

“Must you?”

“Yes. I truly don’t think I should be discovered in your bed,” he said as he rose and retrieved his discarded breeches.

“I wish you could stay all night.”

“As do I, my love,” he said. He went to the candle stand and blew out the spluttering candles, leaving them in the dark, which didn’t seem to hamper his movements at all. “I’m sure my dreams would all be sweet if I were with you, but I dare not linger. The streets are busy early, and I must not be seen leaving here—certainly not climbing down the stable roof, or all your concern for my reputation will be for naught.”