A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess (In War and Love #3)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Annotated Edition

J ames had never been more nervous in his life. It wasn’t the fact that he and his father were hosting their first ball after perhaps twenty years. It wasn’t the burden of his father being the host after everyone whispered behind his back. It wasn’t even the fact that this was another step to mend his broken relationship with him.

None of that mattered. Not compared to the real reason he had opened Pemberton’s doors tonight. Her .

This night should have been a triumph. His once-considered mad father was standing a few steps away, at the entrance, welcoming the guests that poured in with a regal nod and a witty remark for every one of them. Euphemia was sitting in her armchair, strategically placed where she could see everything, and she was glowing with joy.

The ballroom was brimming with ladies in silk gowns and gentlemen in shining boots mingling under the soft light of the old chandelier.

“Your mother would have been happy.” Solomon came next to him.

James smiled at the thought. His mother would have been happy, indeed. Not about the ball—though she always loved balls—but about the two of them making an effort. He looked up into his father’s eyes.

In a rare public display of affection for a man of his station, Solomon placed a warm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Have I thanked you?” he asked with a smile.

“Daily.” James nodded.

“And may I never break this habit,” Solomon said and went back to his host duties.

James bit his lip, and his eyes strayed to his grandmother, who was surrounded by other ladies of the ton. She gave him a small, loving nod.

And yet his soul was restless. This was all good, but not good enough if she wasn’t going to come. James had never known fear like this. Not the kind that coiled in his stomach, slow and insidious. Not the kind that made his fingers twitch at his sides, betraying his nerves.

“James!” Richard’s voice called.

James turned around, his heart filled with hope. Richard and Selina were making their way toward him. But he let his eyes wander behind them.

“It’s just us,” Richard sighed.

James’s heart sank. Maybe he should have done more. Other men did all these grand gestures. Buckets of flowers and sonnets, love letters and groveling. If he had done that, she would have known?—

“His Grace the Duke of Westall, and Her Grace the Duchess of Westall, accompanied by Lady Diana Wilkins,” the butler announced.

James’s spine went rigid. His pulse surged in his throat, and his breath caught in his chest. He turned, his heart hammering as he looked upon her .

Diana. She came.

The moment she stepped forward, the light caught her gown. Midnight blue, dark, enchanting, rippling like water, mesmerizing him. It clung to her curves in a way that made him swallow thickly, the fabric shimmering with each measured step she took. Her raven hair was arranged in an elegant updo, and yet one curl was caressing her neck. James was jealous of that curl.

And those eyes! God help him, those eyes. Green as storm-tossed seas, burning with something that he could not decipher. Till they landed on him.

James exhaled slowly, steadying himself, but it was no use. For the first time in his life, he was thrown off, unable to muster that distance that accompanied almost all of his interactions. All he longed for was to be closer to her. So, he moved.

“I am so happy to see you again, Lady Diana,” Solomon greeted warmly.

James smiled at how his wallflower had bewitched all of the Pemberton household. Him, most of all.

He stopped right in front of her. “Dia—” he almost blurted out. “Lady Diana.” He bowed.

Diana curtsied, but James did not miss the way her fingers curled slightly into her skirt, nor the way her breathing was just a fraction too controlled. She was nervous.

Good. So was he.

“Lord Crawford,” she greeted, her voice smooth, too composed.

“I must have this dance,” James said and took her hand.

Diana stared at him as if assessing him.

If he was about to enter the afterlife facing judgment, he would feel less turbulence. He didn’t care what Heaven and Earth thought of him. All that mattered was that she found him worthy of this. Just a chance.

“Well, if you must ,” she answered graciously.

He guided her to the center of the ballroom, and the whole world faded away. Her hand was warm and steady in his, her body so soft against him, his palm feeling the curves of her body.

Life was poured into his body after days of agonizing limbo.

They just looked at each other as they danced in perfect sync. It was quiet. Tense. Unspoken words hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Then, Diana coughed lightly, her fingers tightening around his. James braced himself.

“My Lord, I must apologize.”

“No, you don’t,” James said softly. “You came.”

Diana gasped upon hearing the longing in his voice. She swallowed and looked over his shoulder.

“And yet I do,” she insisted. “At our last promenade, I was… cruel.”

“I remember you being anything but.” James leaned a little bit closer. “You had every right to behave the way you did. Hell, I deserved far worse. One might say you were too lenient with me.”

She blinked up at him as if taken aback.

“The fact that you came, and you are apologizing, is a testament to how courageous you are,” James continued. Then, he added in a wicked light tone, “I didn’t make it easy on you, after all.”

Diana shook her head, trying to hold back a smile. “No, you certainly didn’t.”

“But would you say that I have been sufficiently chastised?”

Diana’s eyes lit up. This was them. This light, witty banter. Only now, they had added another layer—that of trying to be honest.

“I would say that chastisement is not nearly enough, My Lord.”

“Fair point.” James chuckled. “I should beg, then. I confess I have little experience in the matter, but I’m a fast learner, and for you, I’ll apply myself.”

Diana couldn’t suppress her smile anymore. And James felt his heart lighten, his body relax, his breath come easily. He had a fighting chance, and he would not waste it.

The night unraveled with music and laughter, and everyone was having a great time. Couples swirled under the golden light, men engaged in discussions animated by brandy, and ladies laughed at some absurd gossip.

It was late, and yet no one wanted the night to end. And least of all James.

He danced with her and barely left her side to attend to his duties as a host. He had to endure Richard’s glances, Selina’s teasing, and, most of all, Stephen’s cold hard looks. But he had an ally in Elizabeth.

Not that he cared. He wouldn’t leave Diana’s side even if an army dragged him away.

And then an opportunity presented itself. They were left alone, just the two of them. James didn’t say anything. He just took her by the hand and led her to the dark corridors of his home. His grip was firm yet gentle as if he feared she would pull away. His heart soared when she followed him without asking anything.

He stopped in front of an ornated door and opened it before leading her inside. Diana looked around the soft-lighted room, and James watched as she took it in. The air smelled of polished wood and parchment, of ink and something faintly new.

“A library?” she asked, walking further into the room.

James let her explore, watching as she let her fingers touch the books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. He chuckled softly when she stopped at a particular tome and let out a cry of excitement. She clapped every time she saw a beautiful copy.

“Where did you find this book?” Diana asked as she took a volume out of a shelf. “I have been looking for it for ages.”

“I know. You told me.”

Diana’s eyes snapped to his. James remained absolutely calm.

Diana frowned and looked around once more at the books on the shelves. Books she loved. Books she wanted to read. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Look at the shelf to your left.”

Diana did and let out a little scream, her hands over her mouth.

“Not this edition of Meditations .” She took the book out. “This is the edition with Professor Netherton’s notes!”

“The very one.”

She turned the book over in her hands, her fingers tracing the worn leather. Her breath hitched, the weight of realization pressing into her chest. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“James?”

“I renovated it just for you, Diana. This library. Just for you.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Her chest heaved, her eyes widened. Her lips parted slightly to let out a soft sigh of surprise.

James stalked toward her. Deliberate, devastatingly slow. Looking into her eyes, drowning in them. He was so close to her, his eyes roaming over her face, her eyes, her lips. His precious wallflower.

He wanted to touch her. God help him, he wanted to gather her into his arms, bury his face in her soft neck, and never let go. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“It’s yours, Diana,” he said.

“What…?”

James came impossibly close, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair. He was barely controlling himself.

His eyes softened, and he smiled. “It’s yours if you will have it.” He leaned in. “If you will have me.”

Diana’s jaw dropped, her fingers digging into the leather of the book she was still somehow holding. She tilted her head as if questioning reality itself, and her quick breaths said that she was overwhelmed with emotions.

James saw them all. Disbelief, fear, and… warmth. Hope.

He had to do more than offer her a book. His lips curled into something between a smile and a grimace, as if he were pained by what he was about to say.

“I have never been good, Diana. I always did as I pleased, taken what I pleased, consequences be damned.” His hand slid down her hair, his fingertips brushing the line of her jaw before dropping to his side, curling into a fist.“But for you, I want to do better. Be better.”

Diana blinked and breathed heavily as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing.

“So, I am asking—No, I am begging you. Will you have me? Because I cannot, will not, live in a world without you.”

She searched his eyes for an inkling of doubt. He withstood her inspection, firm and open, inviting her to see the truth of his words. Time ticked, eons rolled as Diana passed judgment on him. Then, her eyes gleamed, and she lifted her chin.

“It seems that you excel at begging, after all, My Lord.”

James blinked. She…

His chuckle was low, dark, wicked. He took a step closer and pinned her against the shelves, his arms caging her in.

“Oh, I can beg in so many ways.”

His voice was low, a velvet promise. And James always made good on his promises.

Diana swallowed hard, her pulse a frantic thing in her throat. He tilted his head, his lips barely grazing the spot behind her ear. Just enough to make her shiver.

“Tell me, my wallflower.” Another brush of his lips, softer now, like he was drinking in the taste of her hesitation. “Are you mine?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. Then, the precious book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a thud . She grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down to her.

Their lips collided, and James couldn’t hold in a deep groan, the air knocked out of his lungs. His hands moved to feel her, all of her. He missed her so much. He had thought he had lost her for good. And now she was his. His to savor and cherish and annoy and make happy.

One hand slid into her hair, untangling her dark curls, feeling the strands spill through his fingers. She shuddered as he fisted her hair softly to angle her head just right, just the way he needed to devour her properly.

His other hand moved to her waist, pulling her so close yet not enough. Heat slammed into him like cannon fire the moment she rocked against him, the unmistakable friction sending a sharp, desperate thrill straight to his spine.

James growled—a deep, primal sound he himself didn’t recognize. “Diana.”

Her body was moving against his, her tongue caressing his, her fingers in his hair. Then, she moaned. One needy, breathy sigh. And he snapped.

His hands found her thighs, lifted her, and pinned her harder against the shelves, his hips trapped between her legs, tangled in her skirts.

Then, God, he moved slowly, gently, his thigh creating delicious, unbearable pressure. Her head lolled back against the shelves as she gasped at the friction, and James kissed her neck, licking her skin. He rocked against her with slow, measured thrusts. He could feel his length straining against his breeches, aching to feel more of her.

“Christ!” he groaned.

His hands cupped her breasts, and he couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. He tugged her dress down impatiently, and her milky breasts spilled out. He latched on an erect nipple, and Diana whimpered.

“I missed you, my precious wallflower,” he murmured against her skin.

He grazed her nipple with his teeth, and she shuddered, cradling his head closer.

“Let me hear it, Diana.” He looked up into her glazed eyes. “You are mine.”

Her chest rose and fell fast, her pupils blown, her lips rosy and swollen, ruined by his kisses, parted on a breath that nearly undid him. Then, he heard her voice—soft, raspy, breathy.

“Yours.”

“Yes,” he grunted in satisfaction. “Mine.”

There was no stopping him now.