Chapter Fifteen
Valentine’s Day ball
Cecil left his suite with knots of worry pulling in his gut.
Though Childs had made certain he’d been rigged out in the best evening suit he owned as well as a red and gold waistcoat of satin and brocade, there was every possibility his guests wouldn’t accept him in principle merely due to his looks.
Perhaps they’d forgotten the wreck of his face or his limp over the years since he hadn’t hosted the ball, but if they had, they were about to be reminded. Would he prove the ogre in the village, then? Would they immediately assume his temper would be wretched to match?
There was no more time to wonder, for he’d reached the door to the duchess suite and he’d knocked on the door. When bid to enter, he did so and found his wife alone, standing at the window in the bedroom.
And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Uh, where is your maid?” If he couldn’t make his voice go over a hushed whisper, he couldn’t help it; she was that gorgeous.
Clad in a crimson satin gown that featured a low, rounded neckline, she was impossible to ignore.
A thin gold cord went around her slim waist. That sort of handiwork also lined the hem and the edges of the slightly puffed, short sleeves.
She carried a woven wrap in an Oriental style of the same colors, broken by deep, rich greens in the forms of embroidered leaves.
For the final touch, her blonde hair had first been plaited and then encouraged into an elaborate upswept arrangement that left thin tendrils to frame her face and drift about her nape.
“I dismissed her since my toilette is finished. I was only waiting for you.” As she raked her gaze up and down his person, he shivered, for it was much like she’d caressed him with her fingers.
“You are quite handsome tonight, Thornton.” She flicked her notice to his abdomen, and interest shivered through his shaft.
“The red and gold waistcoat is quite attractive on you.”
“You can thank Childs for that. He was quite insistent I wear it tonight.” Then he understood why…
because it matched his wife’s gown exactly.
Feeling more awkward than he had in a long while, Cecil took a few steps toward her.
“The, um, ball will begin in less than an hour. Would you care to go down now or wait?”
Why the devil did he suddenly feel like a green youth? Was this night so important, then?
“To be honest, regardless of the fact that I am quite excited to host a society event with you by my side, I’d like to steal a few moments with you beforehand.
” So saying, she grabbed the folds of his cravat and swiftly pulled him toward her.
“If you’re as skilled as I know you to be, I’m certain you’ll make good use of the time, hmm?
” Seconds later, she lifted onto her toes and kissed his lips, telling him without words that she wanted him.
Who was he to deny her? This woman who’d managed to turn his life topsy turvy twice?
With a soft growl, Cecil took her into his arms and assumed command of the embrace.
He kissed her with such ardor and intensity that she stumbled back, and he followed her over the floor until her back crashed against the wall between the two windows.
He liked it so much that he kept her snugly trapped by him and the wall.
And damn if she didn't feel good—right—in his arms. As she’d proven time out of hand since they’d come back to Thornton Hall, she had become the balm he’d needed for quite some time but hadn’t the courage to ask for, and for the first time he felt as if their future was actually coalescing around them into something they could both be proud of living.
Cecil kissed her, drank from her again and again, dragged his lips along the silky side of her throat while she clung to his shoulders.
No doubt she’d planned exactly this, but it took next to no time for him to be too far gone to recall his sanity in the moment.
When she did nothing except encourage him with the gentle guide of her fingers or a soft sigh, he yanked down her bodice.
“Careful, Thornton, don’t wrinkle the gown else everyone will know what we’ve done.”
“Have I ever cared for that?” But he made a mental note to be careful.
“No, but I had this gown made especially for tonight, and I would like to look stunning in it when we go down. I want all eyes on the two of us. I want everyone to see that we are together, forever.” She smiled as she met his gaze. “Try not to make a mess.”
“I will be careful, sweeting,” he whispered, not realizing he’d uttered the endearment. Seconds later, he didn’t care about that either. When the perfect globes of her breasts were bared, he palmed one while taking the nipple of the other into his mouth.
“Oh.” A shuddering sigh escaped her. She arched her back, putting herself more securely into his care. “Cecil, I…” Her words were lost to a moan as he pleasured those pebbled tips with tongue and teeth and fingers.
Damn, but he adored how responsive she was to his touch, to his proximity, to him.
And whenever he was with her, everything suddenly felt calmer in his world, as if he’d always been waiting for her to reenter his life.
How much of a fool had he’d been not to see that nothing mattered as long as he had her?
“I need more of you,” he whispered against the crook of her shoulder as he slid a hand down her side and then gathered handfuls of her skirting, mindful of not crushing the expensive fabric overly much.
“I haven’t tried to beg off yet, Thornton,” she responded in an equally soft and throaty voice. “In fact, I thought I’ve made my position on this very clear.”
“Of course you have; I’ve admired that courage in the eye of the storm I can sometimes represent.
” He growled and kissed her again, shared breath with her, wanted to show his possession so she would continue to feel proud of him, so she would forever be drunk on him and wouldn’t think of straying.
When he’d bunched a good bulk of her skirts between them, he eased his hands beneath the layers of fabric to clutch the curves of her buttocks.
A surprised squeal came from her, and the sound made him grin.
With luck, there would be years ahead of them for him to explore all that she was and learn every secret she had.
He desperately needed her, always would, in all the ways that mattered.
Shit, he should tell her that too, but sometimes the remembering was where he failed spectacularly.
“Tell me you want me, Emma.” Already, his shaft pulsed with pain-tipped pleasure.
He’d explode soon and she’d already asked him not to make a mess. “Tell me that you only want me.”
“Not this again. Why must you constantly need reassurance?” His wife looked up at him with passion-drugged eyes and kiss-swollen lips, and he knew. The same need etched upon her features fired through his blood.
“Because a man can be vulnerable as much as a woman can. There is no shame in it.” He’d learned that from her, at least. “Or so you’ve told me in a myriad of ways.”
“Aw, Cecil.” Gently, lovingly, she caressed the left side of his face, traced the mangled scars and flesh there, and she nodded.
“So I have.” Then her smile was everything and could rival all the candles in the chandelier downstairs with its brilliance.
“I want you. It has always been you since we met in that long ago ballroom.” Her chin faintly trembled.
“There is no other man I wish to spend my life with, in all the little ways and the big ones, so show me that you agree tonight.”
“Not tonight.”
“What?” Confusion shadowed her face.
That prompted a grin on his part. “I meant not just tonight. I agree with you for all the other nights, every damned one of them that we’ll share for the rest of our lives.” He nipped her lips. “Is that good enough?”
Tears welled in her clear gray eyes. “It’s wonderful.”
“Good.” Time grew short. The damned ball would start soon.
He fumbled at the buttons of his frontfalls.
“God, I need to bury myself inside you.” She was petite enough that he picked her up and leveraged her against the wall, holding her thighs while letting the tip of his hardened shaft brush against her center while she wriggled into a better position.
“Will you do that soon? I’m weary of waiting.” She looped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers at his nape encouraged him with slight pressure, and she sought his lips, lightly licking the bottom one. “Our own personal dance before a formal one.”
“Oh, God.” That little gesture nearly sent him over.
With one flex of his hips, he penetrated her body, buried his shaft deep in her honeyed heat.
“Bloody hell, Emma,” he whispered against her lips.
“I adore this moment.” And damn if she wasn’t already so wet.
He’d hardly spent any time pleasuring her.
Did that mean she was aroused just because it was him? “I adore you.”
“Stop talking, Thornton, else I’ll start crying, and tears will stain the gown as much as anything else.” When she wriggled her hips to better accommodate his girth, that movement nearly became his ruination. “I want fast and hard tonight. Make me feel alive when I fly.”
“As if I could deny you anything.” Then there were no more words, for he could converse more eloquently with her by actions.
He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs, and as need raced down his spine and tingled through his stones, he pulled out merely for the heady rush that thrusting into her warmth brought.