The Training of a Marquess (29 page)

“Ride me, Claire.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Like this.” He took his cock in hand. “Slide down on me.”

She peered down between them and understanding entered her eyes. Chase gritted his teeth as she wiggled her pelvis until she had him buried deep inside her. Molten desire raged through him. He’d never been with a woman as inexperienced as Claire, yet her every touch set him on fire like no other had.

“What do I do now?” she asked.

“Now you ride me.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and showed her. The clever girl caught on quickly.

“Am I doing it right?”

If she did it anymore right, he’d come out of his skin. No longer capable of speech, he made a sound and hoped she understood he meant yes. His buttocks came off the cushion when her hot, wet sheath wrapped around him and squeezed.

“Do you know your name now?” she asked.

“Haven’t a bloody clue.”

He cupped her bouncing breasts with his hands and teased her nipples with his thumbs. She moaned, quickening her pace. He prayed she was near her release because he teetered at the edge of his endurance. Her breath quickened, and he slid one hand down her belly to her little nub, rubbing it with his finger.

“Oh, God, yes.”

She threw her head back letting him see her face as she climaxed.

“Chase,” she breathed as shudders rocked her.

Christ in heaven, she was beautiful in the throes of passion. He wrapped his arms around her and flipped her over.

“My turn.” He pushed himself deep inside her. Vainly tried to tame the wildness consuming him, but she wrapped her legs around his buttocks and dug her fingernails into his back.

“Harder,” she said.

Chase let the beast out of its cage and thrust into her. Her eyes glazed over telling him she was going to climax again. She cried out and clinched around him. He barely managed to withdraw in time. His hot seed spurted between their bellies.

“Claire,” he whispered against her neck.

Claire shivered and held onto him.
I love you.
The words were on her tongue, but she bit down on her lip to hold them in. With his face buried against her neck, he didn’t see she owed him another kiss. She hadn’t meant to let this happen, had only come to finally answer his question.

But when he had strode toward her—anger on his face and savage heat in his eyes—all thought of resisting vanished.

She had learned something of great magnitude tonight. He was hers, he just didn’t know it, yet. Her heart leapt with joy when he nuzzled her neck. The magic moment was so close she could almost touch it.

He hardened against her belly but as tempted as she was to love him again, they needed to talk.

“Move over, please,” she said and pushed against his shoulders.

He rolled off her. “Sorry. I must have been crushing you. Come here.” He pulled on her arm.

She scrambled off the lounge and retrieved their clothes, handing him his breeches and shirt. “I cringe to consider what whoever finds all your buttons will think.”

His eyes shuttered as he used his shirt to wipe his seed from his belly. Tossing it aside, he lifted his gaze to hers and scowled. Though she regretted spoiling the mood of their incredible time together, it reassured her to know his emotions were so deeply engaged.

“What’s going on here, Claire?” His voice was edged with ire.

“I came down tonight to talk to you, not to…” She didn’t know what to call it.

“Fuck?”

His crudeness startled her. He was angry, confused and lashing out at the closest target. She could have told him the confusion was within, but he had to come to that conclusion on his own. Like a damaged horse, trusting her was his decision to make.

“Never again call what we just did together that word.”

He stood, pushed his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and pulled on his trousers. As there were no buttons to close the packet, they rode low on his hips. With his torn shirt hanging open and his legs braced apart to keep his trousers up, she was again reminded of a golden-haired pirate—only now her pirate had a barbaric edge to him.

“Forgive me. That was uncalled for.” A strand of hair fell over his forehead, and he swatted at it with his hand. “But, Claire, you are making me bloody daft.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. His trousers slipped down his hips, exposing springy golden curls. Whatever words she was about to say flew away.

He grabbed at his waistband with one hand and slashed the air with the other. “Stop looking at me like that unless you want a repeat of what just happened between us.”

She jerked her gaze back to his. “I do want you, but that’s what I came to talk to you about. I want to answer the question you asked me last week.”

“Will wonders never cease?”

He tugged on his trousers, growled in irritation and dropped down on the lounge. His manners seemed to have deserted him along with his good nature. Claire was beyond amused, but thought she should keep that to herself. She began to pace in front of him as she tried to organize her thoughts.

“The suspense is killing me, my lady. Speak now or I’m leaving for my bed.”

“All right. You wanted to know why I’m ignoring you. It’s because of this stupid idea of yours to find me a husband.” He opened his mouth and she held up her hand. “No, don’t say anything until I’m finished.” He snapped his mouth closed and gave her a curt nod.

“I understand what you mean about my sheltered life and you’re right, it was as you said. I’ve never been courted, never learned the art of flirting, have never had the freedom to choose what I wanted. Because of that, I don’t doubt I would have become infatuated with the first man to come along and treat me with kindness…to show me respect. Perhaps in the beginning, with you, it was infatuation.”

She stopped in front of him. “You are beautiful and humorous…you have such a big heart. How could I not be fascinated by you? The way you brought Harry and Bensey into your home, the way you tease Lady Anne, your kindness to Bobby and Rhonda, all of it endeared you to me. So yes, I agree. In the beginning, it might have been infatuation. But now…now it is love.”

She fisted her hand and pounded her heart. “I know it here.” As she talked, the anger faded from his face. “I know it,” she said softly, “because I would die for you.”

“Claire,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not finished. I understand what your wife did to you. She wasn’t a bad person, but she hurt you deeply. I want your trust and if I have to go to London to prove that no man matters but you, then I will. I’ll do it for you. Because, until I am certain you trust me, completely with everything that you are, I won’t have you. The reason I’ve been ignoring you sounds childish, but I was doing it in an attempt to show you how miserable you would be without me.”

How would he respond? She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m finished. You may talk now.”

His gaze shifted away, and he stared into the night. “You unman me, Claire.”

She knelt and placed her hands over his. “You couldn’t be unmanned if you tried. That is a compliment, not an insult. You want to trust me, I know that. It’s no different when I work with a damaged horse. He wants to trust me, but he’s done so before only to be harmed by it. It’s a very hard thing for him to risk it a second time because he knows now how it feels to be badly hurt. But it is a choice he has to make. I can’t do it for him.”

He finally looked at her. “I have feelings for you.”

She smiled. “I know. I wouldn’t have lain with you if I doubted it. Your problem is not your feelings, but your fear of being hurt again. So, we shall go to London and you will parade a host of men before me. I will look each one over and then shake my head no. ‘Bring on the next one, my lord,’ I’ll say.

“We will do this a hundred times, a thousand if necessary, until you turn to me in wonder and say, ‘Here is my heart, Claire. I trust that it is safe with you.’ I’m going to leave you now. I have much to do tomorrow and need to get some sleep.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “Good night, Chase.”

He picked up her hand, turned it over and pressed his lips to her palm, then curled her fingers over. She kept her hand closed all the way to her room.

****

Chase rested his head against the cushion and stared at the stars. He considered Teresa, recalled how desperately he had loved her. It had always been a painful thing. Had he learned to equate pain with love? This feeling he had for Claire was different. It was airy and freeing.

Except when she aggravated the bloody hell out of him, he thought with a grin. But that, too, was new. In a moment of surprising clarity, it occurred to him that he felt free to get angry at her. He’d said an unforgivable thing earlier tonight, and she had not broken down in tears or turned from him in disgust. No, she had stood up and called him on it.

He’d never dared to get angry with Teresa. She had been too fragile, and he had been too desperate to win her love to risk harsh words. Somewhere in his time with her, he had begun to lose pieces of himself. Now, in what was beginning to feel like a miracle, those lost pieces were finding their way back to him.

Until he let go of Teresa, he would never be able to move forward. A part of him didn’t want to. His wife had been the center of his world for so long he wasn’t sure he knew how to exist without the memory of her filling his heart.

Now, here was a vibrant woman who lived and breathed, who looked at him with love in her eyes. One who held out her hand and patiently waited for him to take it. It was time to live again. He wanted Claire’s forever and a day.

The moment had come to choose. He could hold onto a woman who was now a ghost, her memory haunting him for all she couldn’t give him. Even now, a year later, the regret was heavy in his heart. He was bloody tired of it.

He closed his eyes and spoke the words he never thought to say. “Farewell, Teresa. You are with your Harry, where you always longed to be and so, I am letting you go.” A great weight lifted from his heart even as tears burned his eyes. A gentle breeze carrying the fragrance of roses—Teresa’s scent—brushed his face, and the whisper of her voice came to him.
Be happy, Chase.

Chase blinked his eyes open. What had just happened? Deep in his soul, he believed Teresa wanted him to know she was pleased with his decision to let her go.

A new moon—a sign of new beginnings—hung high overhead. He thought of Claire. He would still take her to London because she needed the experience of it. But he would trust her word that she would shake her head at each man he paraded before her. If the worst happened and she fell in love with one of them…well, he would survive. It would hurt, perhaps even more than losing Teresa, but he would be happy for her.

And he would survive it.

****

The following morning, Chase entered the breakfast room thinking to find Claire, but she wasn’t there. He turned and walked out to the hall.

“Has Lady Derebourne come down, yet, Smithfield?”

“She’s gone,” his mother said as she descended the stairs.

She was gone? After everything she had said last night? What the bloody hell was going on? The woman was going to put him in an early grave.

“Where the hell has she gone, Mama?”

“Your language, Kensington.”

He turned to Smithfield. “Saddle my horse.”

Smithfield eyes widened and he took a step back. “Me, my lord?”

“I don’t care who, just get him saddled.”

Lady Anne put her hands on her hips. “Good heavens, Kensington, what is wrong with you? Claire has gone to church. She wanted to make sure there was no ill talk of Bobby and Rhonda’s elopement.”

The air swished out of his lungs. “Right. Forget saddling my horse, Smithfield.” He spun around and returned to the breakfast room.

Behind his back, Lady Anne and Smithfield looked at each other and grinned.

****

Three carriages left Hillcrest Abbey Monday morning. Claire swallowed a grin as Chase impatiently tapped the roof while glaring at his mother. He’d wanted an earlier start, but getting everyone up and ready, fed breakfast, the trunks loaded and then all of the people, it was a little after eleven. Lady Anne had been the last to make an appearance.

She, Chase and Lady Anne were in the first carriage. The twins, Mr. Edwards and Anders in the second, and Maggie—thrilled to have a carriage to herself—in the third.

Mischief and Amira were tied to the back of theirs and Victory to the back of Harry’s carriage. Two outriders rode ahead of the caravan and two behind. A fifth had gone ahead to make arrangements at an inn for a private room and luncheon.

Claire had never traveled like this, with so many people, trunks, carriages and horses. She had grown up in a small village, not leaving it until Thomas brought her to Hillcrest Abbey.

“You remind me of a child at Christmas,” Chase said. “Your eyes are shining, and you’re bouncing around trying to see out both windows at once.”

It was true. She laughed. “I can’t help it. I don’t want to miss anything.”

He glanced out the window. “Yes, I can see why. Those are the loveliest cows I have ever laid eyes on.”

She refused to let him spoil her excitement. “They are, aren’t they?”

There was something different about him today. It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from him. Even his eyes were clearer and brighter. Gone was the sorrow she had often seen in them. She had left him with much to think about the other night and wanted to believe that something she said had helped.

“Oh, and look, Claire, there’s a tree and another tree. How spectacular is that?”

She swatted his knee. “Stop it, you are being silly.”

He puffed up and looked down his nose at her. “The Marquess of Derebourne and Earl of Kensington silly? Never say so!”

Claire burst into laughter and clamped a hand over her mouth. The moment the wheels began to turn, Lady Anne declared carriage rides could only be endured by sleeping, and had picked up a pillow, positioned it just so and closed her eyes. There was a hint of a smile on Lady Anne’s face, however, making Claire wonder if she slept.