Masquerade (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 1) (11 page)

He nodded, advancing on her with a small smile curving his lips. This time, she did not back away.

“Yes. I realized it last night when you left me alone in the garden. I came here today to ask you not to marry Sheridan; this is true. However, it isn’t because I want you go on acting as my lover in secret. It’s because I want you to marry me.”

Margaret’s eyes widened, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush as his statement forced the air from her. The shaking of her hands increased, until her entire body vibrated, her legs turning to jelly beneath her.

“You what?”

Camden reached for her hands, clasping them in his, his hold strong, steady, and sure. His gaze did not waver as it locked with hers.

“Yes. I should have said this when I had the chance, but I needed time to muddle through the true impact of what occurred last night. As I returned home, alone, I was forced to face the truth. The thought of you with someone else drives me mad, and I don’t mean just the notion of you making love to someone else. I don’t want you to marry someone else, or laugh with someone else. I don’t want you to have private jokes, or secret glances from across the room, with another man, or waltz with him, or have his children. I want all of those things for myself, and I want them with you.
I
want to laugh with you, and share private jokes with you. I want to take you to the grandest balls in London and stare at you from across the room, just glorying in the fact that you are mine. I want to waltz with you, and yes, Maggie, I want to make love to you every night until the day I die. I want to fill your belly with as many babies as you want … So you see, you can’t marry him. You can’t because you don’t love him, you love me. And I … I love you.”

The tears had returned. She cursed them as they ran hot down her cheeks.

“Camden,” she whispered. “Truly?”

He nodded, releasing her hands and reaching up to cup her face. His thumbs stroked her tears away.

“It took me almost losing you to see it,” he said. “I love you, Margaret Jane Anne Seymour. Yes, I learned your middle names from your chatty friend Cordelia. Because I want to know everything about you. Give me a chance. We have a lifetime to learn each other, and with me, you can be who you really are. A vixen, a flame … a duchess.
My
duchess.”

“My mother will be so pleased,” she quipped with a giggle. “A duchess … I hadn’t even thought of the title.”

“Don’t think of it if you’d rather not,” he said with a shrug. “Remember, you are the only one who can claim to hold the heart of Camden Rycroft, the man. The Duke of Avonleah is a peon compared to him. For the man who holds your heart is the most fortunate of all men.”

She could not help the smile crossing her face as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “Oh, Camden, I cannot believe this is happening. Even my wildest dreams never compared to this.”

“There is only one thing left for you to do in order to make it complete,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his.

“What’s that?” she asked, already slipping under his seductive, hypnotic spell.

“Say yes.”

His hands stroked her back, downward to cup her buttocks. Pulling her tight against him, he ground his hips against hers as his mouth mated with hers.

“Yes,” she moaned, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Yes, Camden, I will marry you.”

He groaned his satisfaction, sliding his tongue into her mouth and increasing the intensity of their kiss. His hands traveled, going up over her waist and ribs before cupping her breasts.

“Christ, I wish I could make love to you right now,” he whispered. “In this room, on that couch, with that clodpole and your butler just outside the door.”

His cock hardened between them, pressing into her belly.

Margaret bit her lower lip, her legs quivering at the thought.

“We can’t,” she whispered, giving one of his dark locks a gentle tug. “My mother is just next door waiting for me to come and announce my engagement.”

He released her and extended one hand with a gallant bow. “By all means, my love, let us make the announcement.”

She took his hand but paused, eyeing the door with a frown. “Wait. Let me speak to Sheridan alone first. You can wait here and I’ll return and take you to Mother when he is gone.”

His hold on her hand tightened and he scowled. “You don’t owe him an explanation.”

She sighed.

“But I do,” she insisted. “We courted throughout the season. I led him to believe I might wish to marry him. I at least owe him the courtesy of a gentle letdown.”

Camden sighed but nodded, releasing her hand. “You’re right, of course. Hurry back. If you are out there for too long, I’ll assume he’s tried to run off with my bride and I’ll then be forced to do something irrational.”

“Something more irrational than interrupting a man’s marriage proposal to issue one of your own?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “You’ve no idea how irrational I can be once I set my mind to it. Go, and then get your lovely arse back here.”

Giving him another smile over her shoulder, she approached the door. Taking a deep breath, she paused and schooled her features so she did not appear so happy. She did not wish to exacerbate Sheridan’s disappointment.

She found him pacing the corridor alone. The butler must have left him to attend his other duties. All the better. There were doubtless a few chambermaids pressing their ears to the doors as they paused in their cleaning duties to listen in, but the fewer witnesses to this scene, the better.

“Sheridan,” she said, gaining his attention.

He ceased his pacing, whirling to face her. His expression grew crestfallen as he crossed the hall toward her. “Margaret?”

Clasping her hands before her, she lowered her gaze to the carpet. Witnessing his hurt proved harder than she’d have thought it would be. “I regret to inform you that I must decline your proposal.”

“Avonleah has offered for you, hasn’t he?”

Her gaze snapped up to his.

“He has,” she admitted. “But you must know this has nothing to do with you. You are a fine gentleman, a catch any woman would be fortunate to have.”

He nodded, his jaw clenching as he turned to avoid her gaze. His fingers caressed the surface of a table holding a large floral arrangement. “Any woman but you, is that it?”

Sighing, she reached out and placed her hand on his. He flinched, but abided her touch.

“I love him, Sheridan,” she whispered. “Camden and I … we love each other. As much as I believe you and I could have had an amiable marriage, it’s not what I want. I want passion and romance, fire and intimacy. I think, once the hurt of this has passed, you will come to see that you wish those things for yourself, as well. I certainly want them for you. A man like you deserve nothing less.”

He fell silent for a moment, seeming to think over what she’d just said. After a while, he met her gaze again and forced a smile.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. “I do want those things, and I am happy for you for having found them. I wish you and Avonleah the very best.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

He paused to bow politely before taking his leave. “Good day, Miss Seymour …” he paused. “Your Grace it’ll be before long, so I suppose we’d all better get used to it.”

Once he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. Guilt would come later, but for now, elation had filled her. Now, she felt free to revel in it.

Opening the drawing room door, she motioned for Camden to come with her. He met her in the corridor, taking her hand in his once again.

“You did the right thing,” he assured her. “Cranfield is almost as good a catch as I am. He’s sure to make a good match.”

Maggie laughed. “That is true. I suppose it is all for the best. Now, then, are you ready?”

His eyes twinkled as he gave her hand a squeeze. “Ready to spend the rest of my life with you? I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

“Hmmmm.”

Camden glanced up from his toast and tea, meeting Aunt Albina’s gaze. “Aunt?”

“Oh, nothing, dear,” she said with a wide smile. “The tea is especially good this morning.”

“I suspect it is,” he muttered, buttering his toast.

The duke now had a duchess, which meant all was well in the world of Albina Kearsey, Dowager Viscountess of Laureldown.

“Now, now,” Maggie chastised from his side. “You ought to be kinder to your aunt.”

“He’s incorrigible,” Albina declared, raising her chin a notch. “His father did not beat him enough when he was a lad.”

A smirk curved his lips. “He never beat me.”

“Precisely,” Albina said. “Perhaps if he had, you wouldn’t be so unbearable.”

“You defend her, but not me?” he accused, turning his gaze on Maggie.

Her shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter. Their mornings were much the same as the days passed, bringing them closer to the end of the season. Just a fortnight after their elaborate wedding ceremony at St. George’s, she had settled nicely into his household. It helped that Albina had taken an instant liking to her.

“You’re a grown man,” she insisted, choking and snorting between laughs. “… quite capable of defending himself.”

“Hmph,” he mumbled.

Albina laughed, the cackling sound filling the dining room. “My thoughts exactly.”

“We’ve lived together for far too long,” he grumbled. “I wonder if it would be appropriate for me to banish you to the country now that I am a married man.”

Maggie gasped, slapping his shoulder playfully. “You will do no such thing!”

His aunt beamed at him smugly from across the table. “You heard the duchess,” she harped. “I am here to stay. Now, what do you say to that?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I say, you are more than welcome, you old biddy.”

“Such language. Thank heavens you’ve married Maggie. Such a lovely, incorruptible soul.”

He turned his wicked grin on his wife. “Incorruptible, eh? Sounds like a challenge.”

Maggie laughed again, not bothering to fight as he took her hand in his and began placing kisses along her knuckles.

Albina cleared her throat and stood. “I do believe I’ve had enough tea and toast. Margaret, shall I see you for our trip to Bond Street this afternoon?”

“I cannot wait,” she replied, though her gaze remained focused on him.

His tongue rasped her knuckles just as Albina left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving them alone.

“Camden,” she whispered.

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, turning her hand over and laving the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist with his tongue. His palate flooded with the heady taste of her. “Yes, darling?”

“The servants … someone could come in.”

He arched a brow at her as he stood, bringing her to her feet.

“That’s the fun of it,” he murmured, grasping her waist and lifting her up onto the table. She gasped as he parted her knees and raised her skirts. “Besides, now that we are wed, there is no need for discretion. Which means I can have you whenever and wherever I want.”

One hand found its way between her thighs, while the other pressed gently against her stomach, pushing her to lie on her back. Since their wedding, he had ordered all of her drawers be burned in the hearth, forcing her to go without them. She’d confessed that she rather liked going nude beneath her gown and chemise. The feel of her thighs rubbing together, teasing the lips of her mons and reminding her of her lover’s caress … almost as thrilling as the knowledge that it made her vulnerable to be taken by him at any moment.

His fingers slid through the damp curls and found her hidden nub. Massaging in slow circles, he reached up with his other hand to snatch down the front of her morning gown. His eyes darkened with desire, his nostrils flaring as the scent of her arousal filled the room.

“I am going to make love you on this table,” he murmured, his thumb and forefinger pinching one nipple as he continued teasing her pearl. “And no one will tell me I can’t.”

“Of course they won’t,” she managed between the shudders rocking her core. “Your Grace.”

His cock responded to her purred words, filling with even more blood and throbbing painfully. “You know how I love it when you call me that.”

A cat-like smile curved her lips as she spread her legs wider and arched her back.

“Oh, my lord,” she moaned, her hips thrusting against his searching hand. “That feels so good.”

A smile split his lips as he withdrew his hand from her breast, using it to unfasten his breeches. “Hmm, you’re so wet for me, my lady.”

“Yes,” she panted, her thighs trembling as he slid two fingers into her slick entrance. “I’m ready. Take me, Camden.”

With a groan, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock, slamming into her so forcefully, the china rattled atop the table. She clenched her teeth, biting back a shriek of pleasure.

Holding the edge of the table for purchase, he began to move, his very breath robbed from him by the feel of her wet sheath on his naked cock. They didn’t need to take precautions now, not when Maggie had insisted she wished to try for an heir immediately. He had risen to the occasion with relish, taking her as many times as he could every day. If he hadn’t impregnated her yet, he would soon enough. Not an hour went by when he did not think of being inside of her. The thoughts inevitably led to him seeking a way to whisk her to the nearest empty room and lift her skirts.

“Bloody hell, Maggie,” he growled, grasping her thighs and lifting her hips from the table in order to penetrate her deeper. “You feel so good.”

His hands slid up to her buttocks and he gripped the plump cheeks, kneading them as he pumped faster.

She threw her head back and moaned, forgetting the servants she’d feared not a moment ago. Her face and neck flushed from the exertion as she reached up to grasp the other end of the table, holding on tight as his hips collided with hers over and over. Her tits bounced enticingly, inviting him to bend over to take one into his mouth.

Suckling hungrily, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Hands still gripping her buttocks, he bounced her up and down the length of his cock, driving his hips forward to meet her. She clung to him, her arms tight around his neck and her legs around his waist, her feet digging into his tailbone.

“Ah, Maggie,” he groaned, his head spinning dizzily as he sheathed himself in her tight, wet channel over and over. “Say it, Maggie. Say the words.”

She knew what he wanted as well as he did. Nothing aroused him more than hearing it from her lips as they made love.

“Oh my God, I’m going to come,” she whimpered, burying her face in his neck.

He chuckled. “Not those words, love. Though I’m glad to hear it.”

She moaned again, her thighs gripping him at the same time her sheath contracted, taking his cock in a fist-tight grip. He groaned but continued thrusting, so close to climax, he could barely breathe.

She took his earlobe between her teeth as her core contracted around him and she moaned, “I love you.”

He spent with a shout, his fingers digging into her flesh as his hips met hers one last time and his seed filled her in hot, spasmodic spurts.

His knees went weak, and he lowered them both into the nearest chair, keeping her in his lap with his cock still buried deep within her. His chest heaved as he fought for breath. Maggie’s gown draped over her legs and his, concealing the juncture where their bodies met.

Leaning back in the chair, he reached up to stroke a lock of sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead. “I love you, too, my naughty little wife.”

With a lazy smile, she collapsed against him, resting her head on his chest.

“I’ve been bad, my love,” she whispered. “Whatever will you do with me?”

Wrapping his arms possessively around her, he held her tight.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he murmured. “After all, I’ve an entire lifetime in which to do so.”