The Truth About Lord Stoneville (20 page)

“I don’t believe that,” she said stoutly.

“So you’re in love with Hyatt?”

She flinched. “That’s different.”

“How? You were willing to marry
him
for practical reasons. Why not me?”

A shaky laugh escaped her. “In what way is it practical for us to marry?”

“It’s been three months since you last had news about your indifferent fiancé. So you can either keep hoping he will remember that he’s betrothed in time to save you from destitution, or you can marry me. I’m here, and he’s not. I want you for yourself. For him, it’s all about the money.”

Her eyes glittered. “If you’re marrying me because your grandmother won’t relent, because it’s the only way to ensure that your family inherits her fortune, then it’s all about the money for you, too, isn’t it?”

The harsh words shattered something inside him. He’d thought she understood what he was saying, that she understood his desire for her. But clearly she didn’t know him at all. He’d been building castles out of fog.

“Forgive me,” he said stiffly. “I should have realized you would see it that way. In future, I’ll take care not to bother you.”

He turned on his heel to leave.

Chapter Twenty

Cursing her quick temper, Maria watched Oliver head for the door. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She was just tired of his painting Nathan as a fortune hunter, when he would be one, too, if he married her.

But in her heart, she knew that wasn’t why he’d proposed. He’d fought so hard against marriage; he wouldn’t have done so if he’d wanted her fortune. She grabbed his arm before he could walk out. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I didn’t mean that. Your proposal took me by surprise, that’s all.”

His arm remained rigid beneath her hand. “You have every right to consider me a fortune hunter.” He stared sightlessly at the door. “But what you don’t understand is I’m probably the last man who’d ever marry you for your money.”

“Why?”

He was silent so long that she feared he wouldn’t answer. When he did begin to speak, his voice held a dead quality that alarmed her. “My father married my mother because he needed a rich wife to shore up this damned house and all it stood for.” A heavy sigh wracked him. “Unfortunately, Mother didn’t realize the nature of the transaction until it was too late. She thought he was in love with her, and she believed herself to be in love with him. She thought she was living a fairy tale. It was quite a coup for her to snag a marquess, you see, and to become mistress to such a place as this.”

The muscles of his throat worked convulsively. “But once she was ensconced in her precious fairy-tale palace, she learned the truth. That Father wanted her for her fortune alone. That he would have done anything to gain the right wife for his purposes.”

His voice hardened. “That he had no intention of changing his way of life for her. He meant to go on whoring his way through London, wife or no. In the end, that was what destroyed them. If not for his treatment of her and her desperate need to make him love her, she would never have—”

When he broke off, she stared hard at him, knowing he’d been about to say something important. “Would never have what?” she asked softly, almost afraid to hear his answer, yet needing to know.

Pulling free of her hand, he went to stand before the fire, a lonely and dark silhouette against the orange flames. “I lied to you before.”

Her breath hitched. “About what?”

“About how my parents died. Gran
did
tell everyone that Mother killed Father when she mistook him for an intruder, but the truth is . . . she murdered him deliberately. And then took her own life.”

Her heart pounded. “How can you be sure of that? You said that no one really knows what—”

“I was there.”

Her mind reeled. “You saw it?” she said, incredulous.

“No. After. I reached them too late.”

“Then you don’t know for certain what she intended.”

His harsh laugh chilled her to the bone. “Yes, I do. She rode out after him, angry at him over . . . something that had happened. I wanted Gran to go after her, because I knew her mother could calm her down, but Gran thought I was overreacting. When it grew dark and Mother hadn’t returned, Gran and I rode to the hunting lodge.”

His voice had dropped to a whisper, forcing her to edge closer so she could hear him over the patter of rain now beating on the roof.

“There were no lights burning,” he said. “The place was eerily still. Gran told me to wait while she went to see if their horses were in the stable, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I rushed inside.” A shudder racked him. “I was the one to find them.”

“Oh, Oliver,” she breathed. Her poor, poor darling. She couldn’t even imagine stumbling across such a violent scene, but especially one involving one’s own parents. Her stomach churned to think of him there alone and clearly blaming himself for not going after his mother sooner. How had he borne it all these years?

Coming up behind him, she laid her hand on his back, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“There was blood spattered from ceiling to floor,” he said in a low, awful voice. “I still see it sometimes in my nightmares. Mother lay on the carpet with a hole in her chest. The pistol lay beside her limp hand. And Father’s face . . .”

He trailed off with a shudder, and she stroked his back, knowing it was a feeble comfort.

After a moment he continued, his tone a little more steady. “It was clear I could do nothing for him, but I rushed to Mother, thinking that I saw her move. Of course she hadn’t. She was cold when I lifted her in my arms. I got blood all over me. That’s how Gran found me, holding Mother, rocking back and forth, weeping. Gran had to pry her from my arms.”

Maria was weeping now, weeping for the sad loss of it. And for a boy who’d seen something he never should have.

A choked sigh escaped him. “I don’t remember much after that. Gran wrapped me in something, and we rode back to the house as if the hounds of hell were on our heels. Somewhere on the journey I lost whatever she’d wrapped around me, so a couple of the grooms saw me in bloody clothes.

“I didn’t give a damn, but Gran knew what people might think. After she sent word to the local constable, she had me strip down to nothing and give her my clothes to burn. Then she paid the grooms for their silence, and drummed up the tale of an intruder. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought off the constable, as well.”

His voice went cold. “It didn’t do much good. The servants kept silent, but we were in the middle of a house party, and our guests couldn’t help noticing the commotion or the fact that I’d been missing. That’s how the rumors started.”

Indignation swelled in her chest. “People can be so cruel.”

“Yes.” He faced her, his eyes red-rimmed from unshed tears. “But now you see why I would never marry for money. And I’m not about to let you do so either. It’s a trap—it will destroy you.”

His mouth covered hers in a long desperate kiss that stole the soul from her. She clutched at his shoulders, the broad shoulders that had borne so much, and held on for dear life as he dragged her against him, flattening her body against his, kissing her into a state of blessed mindlessness where all that mattered was him.

He tore his mouth from hers only to whisper against her ear, “Say you’ll marry me, angel. You
have
to marry me.”

With his tale of heartbreak in her mind, she feared that he wanted this for all the wrong reasons. “You just want to save me from Nathan.”

“Nothing so unselfish, I assure you.” He trailed his mouth down her throat. “I want you. I need you.
God,
how I need you.”

He spoke of need, but not of love. Then again, he didn’t believe in love. And though that stung, at least he was honest about it. He’d always been perfectly frank about what he wanted.

“You need me in your bed, you mean.”

“Not just there, and you know it.” He drew back, firm resolve sharpening his features. Cupping her head in his large hands, he met her gaze with an intense look. “I’ll prove it. Agree to marry me, and I’ll leave you to sleep alone tonight and every night until we’re joined in matrimony. I’ll behave like a respectable gentleman. And I’ve never done that for anyone.”

Her blood thundered in her ears. She could well believe it. And something beyond desire shone in his face. Or was she just wishing on rainbows?

“I don’t know, Oliver. Until I can find Nathan—”

“Nathan!” A change came over him, dark and tempestuous. “Forget about Nathan. I won’t let him have you.” His eyes smoldered with a passion like the one seething in her own breast. “I won’t.”

He started backing her toward the bed in an unconscious imitation of his blatantly sensual steps in the waltz earlier, and a thrill shot through her. “You said you would leave me to sleep alone.”

“Not so you can think about
him
and what you owe
him.
I’ll make love to you before I let that happen. Because one way or the other, I mean to have you as my wife.” Raw determination shone in his harsh features. “Even if I have to ruin you to manage it.”

That errant thrill made her shiver again, no matter how she tried to suppress it. “Then you won’t need to marry me. You’ll have everything you desire from me.”

A ragged laugh escaped his lips. “It will take a lifetime to have everything I desire from you.”

His words gave her pause. Perhaps he really
did
need her. Perhaps he felt something even more.

“Besides,” he said with a wry smile as he shucked his coat, then his waistcoat, “my family will roast my ballocks on a spit if I ruin you without making an honest woman of you.”

“I haven’t agreed to let you ruin me,” she pointed out.

His black eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Ah, but you will.” And with that, he lowered his head to seize her thinly clad breast in his mouth.

Her eyes closed on a sigh. The arrogant devil was so sure of himself—and with good reason. He offered her the headiest of temptations, the sweetest of sins. How was she supposed to resist such a fixed pursuit?

She couldn’t, not when she wanted it so desperately, too.

He scraped her nipple through the fabric, sending her up on her toes to strain closer to his heavenly mouth. Unbuttoning her night rail clear down to her waist, he spread it open to bare her breasts to his eager gaze. Then he dropped to one knee and tongued one nipple erect as he fondled her other breast.

“Ohhhh, Oliver . . .” she breathed.

“I love your breasts,” he murmured, nuzzling the one he’d just been tonguing. “Every time I see you, I want to pop them out of your gown and suck them until you beg for more.”

“That would certainly . . . give the gossips something . . . to talk about,” she choked out.

He lavished the other with bold, endless caresses of his mouth. “I love touching you. I never tire of it.” She moaned low in her throat, and he cast her a carnal smile. “I love the sounds you make, the way you throw yourself into passion without restraint.”

She blushed. “You love seeing me behave as wickedly as you.”

His eyes darkened dangerously. “And I love that you think you’re being wicked. You have no idea what wickedness is, sweetheart.” His hot gaze locking with hers, he pushed her night rail up. “But I’m happy to show you.”

With no more warning than that, he bent his head to kiss her between her legs, inside the slit of her drawers. “Oliver!” she exclaimed, shocked. When his tongue delved into her curls to lick her in a most astonishing spot, she sighed, “Oliver . . . heavens alive . . .”

“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” he told her as he spread the opening of her drawers farther apart, then repeated his scandalous caress.

It tickled, and when she reacted to it by jerking back from his mouth, he caught her thighs and tugged her forward so he could really lash at her with his tongue.

She thought surely she would die. Or scream. Or something equally reckless. His tongue felt like his hand had felt in the carriage, only more intense . . . more embarrassing.

Yet her desire outweighed her embarrassment. So when he drew back to say, “This is better done in a bed,” and rose to lead her there, she went willingly.

She didn’t want to think about how wrong this was, or how foolish it was to give herself to a known seducer. Because tonight Oliver wasn’t that man. Not to her. He was the boy who’d cried over his dead mother, the young man who’d lost himself in drink and women to forget the past, the marquess who’d vowed not to marry for money.

He was the man who would be her lover. And without another qualm, she let him tumble her down upon the bed, let him part her legs and settle himself between them.

After that, he began pleasuring her below with such fierce intent that she could do naught but grab at the covers and enjoy. Who could have dreamed that a man could do such amazing things with his mouth?

Only when he had her squirming and arching and begging him did he bring her to the same glorious heights, the same glorious depths, as he had in his carriage that day. And while she was still shaking from her release, still gasping, her heart pounding like a timpani, his gaze raked her, marking her as his.

“I love how you come,” he said in a low, silky tone, yanking off his cravat and shirt. “I love how you find your pleasure so openly.”

“Do you?” She sat up and reached for his trouser buttons. “Let me,” she murmured, enjoying the sight of him shirtless.

He had a dusting of hair across the hard muscles of his chest. Another patch surrounded his navel, growing thicker as it descended toward the trousers she was unfastening. His nipples were hard little points, like hers, and she couldn’t resist stretching up to lick at them as he’d licked hers.

With a groan, he clasped her head against him. “I never guessed you were such a teasing minx,” he growled as she tugged at one nipple with her teeth.

“Do you like it?”

He fisted his hands in her hair, his breath thickening. “You know damned well I do.”

She smiled against his skin. She’d never dreamed that being wicked could be so much fun, that having a man respond to her caresses could arouse her, too. Testing out her newfound feminine wiles, she moved her lips lower to press openmouthed kisses against the muscles that flexed beneath her touch. She scraped his flesh lightly with her teeth.