The Marquess's Final Fling by Cerise DeLand

Author:Cerise DeLand
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2019-10-06T16:00:00+00:00

He had another gift for her. One he’d brought with him from home, hoping, praying she would be here and accept it. But he’d save that for later, after he assured himself of her willingness to marry him.

He knew her, despite years of separation. Knew her well. And he was painfully aware that she held back a portion of herself. Not her heart. Not her body. But some other aspect he could not name. Until he learned it, he would not press her.

For to press her meant she’d run from him.

And that he could not bear.

Not now.

Not after this…this rapture he had shared with her.

So he kissed her, and petted her, fondled her gorgeous breasts and sank himself into the wet folds of her giving body. If a man persuaded a woman he adored to marry him this way with all the powers of his lips and tongue and hands and cock, could she refuse him? After such careful loving, how could she not surrender soul and heart and all desire?

God knew, he was as bound to her as ever he’d been. His spirit had loved her. His body had yearned for her. But now, buried deep inside her, hearing her sighs of delight, her cries of completion, how could he ever let her go?

But when his pulse returned to a normal beat, faint sun streamed into her window. He rose and looked out upon a snowfall. Large flakes, they’d make quite a lovely Christmas panorama. He had to leave her rooms before others were up. With a sigh, he donned his banyan.

At her door, she rushed to him. He bent to peck her on the cheek and she pulled back.

“We must be more careful,” she said with a small sad smile. “Lady Bridgewater has seen us. Others—”

“Lady Bridgewater was a dear friend of my mother’s. I doubt she would say a word against me. As for others, I think we may not be the only ones who have taken advantage of the arrangements.”

“That doesn’t excuse us. Nor does it mean others won’t mention what they suspect.”

Her words sent a chime of fear through him. “Do you say you will no longer receive me?”

She regarded her hands.

He stepped against her. She was still sans all clothing, so natural in his arms. Pulling her nearer, he kissed her hair, her eyelids, her cheeks.

She was stiff, cold.

Alarmed at her change in attitude, he said, “I’ll return tonight. Happy Christmas, my darling.”

When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes. “I’ve never had a lover, Theo. No one but my husbands.”

“Sweetheart, I know.” He would have kissed her again.

But she shook her head. “I have a good reputation.”

Never had there been a word of scandal about her. “My darling, if you are worried that you will get with child—”

She shot backward. “No.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I’m not.”

“Nor should you be,” he assured her, “because—”

“I won’t be.”

“Penn, what is this? What’s wrong?”

“Please leave.”

“After all that we’ve been to—”

She stepped around him and pulled open the door.

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