There's Something About Lady Mary (24 page)

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him toward her. His lips met hers, and a moment later, she let out a deep sigh of satisfaction at the feel of him entering her body. Heaven—she was in absolute heaven.

He moved carefully, deepening his kiss as he eased his way further inside her, his hands wandering over every part of her, caressing her and igniting her senses to a point where her need for him was almost too painful to bear. When he paused, she wanted to scream with frustration. Instead she writhed beneath him, clutching at him as if doing so might force him closer. Yet he lingered for an infuriating stretch of time, nibbling on her earlobe, kissing his way along her chest to suckle her perky nipples until she was driven mad with wanting. Then, when she feared she could stand it no longer, he plunged forward, burying himself completely within her soft, supple warmth, and as he did so, Mary yelled. It wasn’t a quiet sort of yell that might have been intended to convey some minor displeasure. No, it was a loud scream of complete and utter agony, the sort of scream that was likely to bring people running from near and far, expecting to find a catastrophe.

Ryan froze. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

“How can you possibly think that I might be all right,” Mary whimpered. “I have just discovered what a devilish liar you are. You said it would only hurt a little. Well, it hurt like bloody hell, I will have you know.”

“I am sorry,” Ryan whispered as he kissed her softly on her cheek. “I—”

There was a loud knock on the door. “Mary? Are you all right?”

“Damn,” Ryan muttered. “It’s Alex.”

Alexandra knocked again, even louder this time.

“You had better answer her before she decides to kick down the door,” Ryan suggested.

Mary stared at the door, momentarily stupefied, then pulled herself together. “I am all right,” she called out. “I. . .I stubbed my toe, that is all.”

“Well, I also brought some towels for you. The maids apparently forgot, so if you could please open the door, I will just—”

“No!” Mary blurted out in wide-eyed horror. She looked at Ryan, who appeared to be one second away from erupting into a fit of laughter.

“I am not really in a position to do that right now,” she called back.

“I bet she would be quite shocked by the position you are actually in,” Ryan chuckled, his eyes swimming with mirth.

Mary had to bite down hard on her own lip to stop herself from laughing. “Please leave them by the door, and I will get them in a minute.”

“Very well,” she heard Alexandra say. “But do try to be quick about it; we have guests waiting.”

“I will, er. . .I will do my very best,” Mary replied, desperately struggling to keep her voice steady.

There was a soft thump on the other side of the door as Alexandra dropped the towels. This was followed by a brief pause and then the sound of retreating footsteps as she continued down the hall. As soon as she was completely gone, Mary slapped Ryan hard across his arm. “You and your. . .your. . .”

“My what?” Ryan asked as he gazed down at her, his eyes filled with merriment.

“Your. . .”

“This?” He pulled out slightly, then drove back in.

Mary moaned at the unexpected tingles that rose through her body.

“Or,” Ryan said, repeating the motion with increased speed and pressure, “this?”

Lord help her if this was not the most exquisite feeling in the world. She dug her fingers into Ryan’s back, arching against him as she clenched her muscles and followed his rhythm. “Yes,” she groaned as she felt herself carried away on a burst of energy. “Oh God, Ryan. . .I. . .I am. . .”

“Let yourself go, Mary,” he urged her, teasing her nipples while he thrust himself back inside her.

And then it happened. On a cry of elation, she quivered around him, her muscles contracting as she soared upward on wings of extraordinary pleasure. And as she fell back to earth, she brought him tumbling with her, breathless, and truly gratified.

For several minutes after, they just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, spent and sated. Ryan’s hand trailed lazily over Mary’s thighs in a swirling motion that made her skin tickle. His eyes were half closed, and he looked immeasurably pleased.

“Ryan?” she asked suddenly. “When we are married, can we do this all the time?”

Ryan grinned. “I take it that you enjoyed it?” he said with a cheeky smile.

She cast him a sidelong smirk. “You know I did, you fiend. In fact, I was surprised by just how much I liked it.”

“Is that so? Well, you can count on doing it very, very often indeed,” he told her as his fingers crept down between her legs once more.

“Ryan,” she gasped. “What about Alexandra?” But her legs had already fallen helplessly open in response to his touch.

“She can wait—and so can the guests, whoever they may be. In fact, the whole damn world can bloody well wait, because I am not even close to being done with you yet.”

And before Mary could manage a reply, all of her thoughts flew out the proverbial window the instant Ryan kissed her.

“W
ho do you suppose is here?” Mary asked a half hour later as they made their way downstairs. Having made love a second time, they’d finally managed to remove themselves to the awaiting bathtub, only to have made love once more there. Mary wasn’t quite sure what the maids would think of the sopping wet carpet, but she was so giddy with joy that she barely even cared.

“I cannot begin to imagine,” Ryan told her, stopping them both in front of the parlor door. “But I know what I will be thinking about while I watch you sip your tea.”

Mary blushed. “I had no idea that you were such a naughty boy, Mr. Summersby,” she told him sternly. But her heart was already hammering ridiculously hard at the thought of falling back into bed with him.

“My dear woman,” he whispered. “you have no idea just how naughty I can be. After all, we have only just begun.”

And with that, he opened the door to the parlor to find his father, Lord Willowbrook, and William entertaining Sir Percy and another gentleman whom he did not recognize, while Alexandra was seated on the sofa with Isabella and Cassandra. Everyone turned their heads at the sound of the door opening.

“Ryan!” Percy exclaimed cheerfully, breaking the hush that had fallen over the room. “Good to see you again.”

“And you, Percy.” Ryan nodded politely in greeting.

“I take it that this must be the lovely marchioness that I have heard so much about,” Percy remarked.

“It certainly is,” Bryce said as he sent Mary a pleasant smile. “May I present to you Lady Steepleton. Lady Steepleton, this is Sir Percy, an old friend of the family’s.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Mary said as she glanced quickly at Ryan. “Mr. Summersby here has told me so very much about you.”

Percy grinned. “Yes, I am sure that he has, though you must forgive him; I was the one who suggested that he keep his assignment under wraps. After all, women never seem to care much for being under surveillance.”

“They certainly do not,” Mary remarked, her voice hitching a little with annoyance. Her remark did little to aggravate Percy’s countenance, however. Instead, he looked surprisingly amused.

“What brings you all the way out here, anyway?” Ryan asked Percy, trying to smooth things over before his fiancée and his father’s friend came to blows. “You never leave the city.”

“Well, I suppose that is true, but then I happened to meet this gentleman at my club the other evening,” Percy said, gesturing to the man on his right. “This is Mr. Alistair Croyden, Lady Steepleton’s uncle.”

“What?” Mary blurted out, turning her attention to the man Percy had just introduced.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Ryan said, hoping his gallantry might overshadow Mary’s sudden lack of good manners.

Mr. Croyden smiled kindly at both of them. “I imagine that this must come as quite a surprise.”

Mary shook her head in disbelief. “But this is impossible,” she said. “My father didn’t have any siblings.”

“He had two, as it happens,” Mr. Croyden told her. “Although I regret to say that our sister, Fiona, passed away about three years ago.”

“Good Lord,” Mary murmured as she did her best to come to terms with this additional bit of information. “But he. . .he never mentioned you, not even once.”

“I know,” Mr. Croyden replied. “But perhaps you will understand why once I explain it all to you.”

“But for now,” Bryce cut in, “I think you might be well served with a warm cup of tea. After all, you have had a great many surprises to deal with lately, Lady Steepleton.”

Mary simply nodded as she sank down onto a nearby chair, all the while wondering how many more secrets her father might have had that she had yet to uncover.

“L
ady Steepleton!” a voice called out. It was followed by the sound of quickening footsteps.

Mary turned to see her newfound uncle hurrying after her. She’d been strolling alongside Cassandra and Isabella after Ryan had suggested that they all go for a walk together, even though the sky was a bit gray and held the promise of rain.

“Would you mind if I walked with you for a while?” Mr. Croyden asked Mary, as he eyed the other two ladies. “Not to be rude, but my niece and I have much to discuss.”

“Do you mind?” Mary asked Isabella and Cassandra.

“No, not at all,” Isabella told her with a gentle smile. “We completely understand, don’t we, Cass?”

Cassandra gave a sheepish nod as she pulled the hem of her gown out of a puddle with a sigh of despair. Isabella appeared not to notice, or perhaps she simply chose to ignore the mess her daughter was in. “Oh, look,” she said. “Alexandra is showing Michael the roses. Come, let’s join them.” And with a firm hold on her daughter’s arm, she dragged her away in the direction of the others.

Mary and her uncle watched them go before resuming their walk.

“I understand that you have had a trying few weeks,” Mr. Croyden said with a wistful smile. “And I am sure that my unexpected appearance has done little to improve upon that.”

“You are quite right,” Mary told him, looking over her shoulder and noting that Ryan and William were talking to Lord Moorland and Sir Percy. “I cannot deny that I was a bit taken aback by your sudden arrival.”

“Well, I suppose that it is a lot to take in all at once: family members you’ve never even heard of before, a title you never knew your father had, and a fortune that, I take it, is quite substantial.”

Mary narrowed her eyes on Mr. Croyden. Funny that he should mention the money. “Tell me,” she said, popping open the umbrella that she’d brought along. It might not be raining yet, but she wasn’t comfortable with Mr. Croyden’s proximity to her and hoped that the umbrella would keep him at a reasonable distance. “Why did my father never mention you or your sister, and why did he turn his back on his family? After all, he must have had a good reason.”

Mr. Croyden would have had to be an idiot not to catch her meaning. He nodded thoughtfully. “I understand your concern,” he told her. “You see, when your father fell in love with Harriet, your mother that is, he kept it from the family for a long time. He knew your grandfather would never allow him to marry her, especially not since he was the elder son and future heir. When your grandfather refused to stop pressuring your father into marrying a certain young lady who would have brought a great deal of money with her into the family, your father made his decision. He and Harriet eloped; they ran off to Scotland and got married in secret.

“Shortly after, when your grandfather found out about it, he was naturally furious.” Mr. Croyden grinned. “In truth, I have never seen a man so livid before in all my life. For over a week, he and your father fought until our father eventually gave John an ultimatum: it was either Harriet or his inheritance. He could not have both.”

Mary stopped in her tracks. “You do not paint a very pretty picture of your father,” she said grimly.

“Well, you have to understand, nobility doesn’t have the luxury of marrying just anyone they please. They have obligations, obligations that every man in our family has always honored. . .until John met Harriet, that is. Your grandfather, however, was not capable of accepting that his firstborn son would pick a woman over everything that he and all the previous generations had worked so hard to achieve.”

“But surely your father could just have let you inherit his title instead. If he had two sons, then I don’t quite see why it would be such a big issue if the elder decided to follow another course.”

“No, it is probably quite difficult for you to understand,” Mr. Croyden told her, but he didn’t patronize. Instead, there was kindness in his voice. “John was the apple of our father’s eye, you see. He doted on him since the very day that he was born, preparing him for the position he would one day fill. And even so, he never stopped him from studying medicine; he understood that John was passionate about that and that taking it away from him would do more harm than good. But he always thought that the day would come when John would face his responsibilities, take his seat in Parliament, and honor his family name.

“In the meantime, I decided to study law. After all, I always supposed that John would inherit everything and that I would have to make my own way in the world.”

“And did you succeed?” Mary asked him. “Did you become a lawyer?”

“I did,” Mr. Croyden told her thoughtfully. “And a good thing too, as it turns out, because in spite of what Father had told John about cutting him out of the will, the old man was never able to follow through. I think he always imagined that John would return to pick up the reins, but as you have probably concluded, he never did.”

“But the estate and the house in London—somebody must have taken care of those places after your father passed away,” Mary said, baffled by the oddity of it all.

“Oh, yes, there were caretakers, housekeepers, and butlers, all of them put in place by your father to keep things running just enough to stop them from falling into disrepair.” Mr. Croyden stopped to look at Mary, studying her for a moment. “He didn’t want any of it for himself, but he kept it all for you.”