Chapter Eight #3
“Did you love him deeply?” Marcus asked. She grasped his wrist and tried to disengage them from her hands, but he tightened his grip. “Elise?”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. “No.”
Marcus blinked. Her eyes widened and he was unsure if he read fear or remorse. “What happened?” he asked.
Her expression hardened. “That is none of your concern.”
“Mayhap, but I want the answer.”
At first it seemed she wouldn't comply, then in a tired voice, “Riley shouldn't have married. He didn't want the ties of a wife, and certainly not the responsibilities of a child.”
“How can a man not love a beautiful wife who gives him children in his own image?”
She dropped her gaze, but he didn't miss the scarlet that crept up her cheeks.
“Elise.”
“You have your answers. Now go.”
With a finger, he forced her chin upwards. “The man was a fool. How he could not want you—”
She twisted from his grasp. “I never said he didn't want me. We had a daughter.”
“A child need not come of passion.”
She shot him a defiant look. “You tread on dangerous ground.”
He slid an arm around her back. “Tell me, love, did he kiss you like this?”
Marcus pressed his mouth to hers, gently caressing her lips with his.
She squirmed, but he tightened his hold.
Slowly deepening the kiss, he parted her lips with his tongue, tasting the hot moistness of her mouth and encouraging her to enjoy him.
Her breath quickened, and he slid wet kisses across the smooth skin of her neck.
He grazed a breast with his hand and felt her sharp intake of breath.
He kissed her mouth, harder this time. At last, he released her.
Elise looked into his eyes, her expression flat. “That is lust. Any man can feel lust.”
“True,” Marcus agreed. “And I can find a woman to satisfy lust. But this is need. A need,” he cupped her bottom, pressing her to him, “born of strong desire, fueled by something much deeper. This leads to true passion.”
Keeping her close, he lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed. He settled her upon the bed, then lay down beside her.
“This is a need so great it drives a man wild.” He stroked her neck.
“That's what I felt our first meeting in the meadow. You have no idea what you do to me.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Even the ride home with you in my lap was painful.” He kissed her neck.
She shook her head, but he went on. “Just the thought of you incites me like a raging fire.”
Marcus rolled onto her. He stroked her shoulder, then slid his hand down to cover a breast. He kissed the base of her neck. She gripped his shoulders and it seemed she would resist. He slipped a finger inside her bodice and brushed a nipple. Her hold tightened on his shoulders.
“Sweet,” he whispered, “ye are beautiful. I want you.” He tugged her bodice down and grasped the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently.
She arched a breath's movement toward him.
“Aye,” he coaxed. “You want me.” He moved against her.
“Tell me you want me. Come, sweet, surely you can give me those simple words.” He kissed her, moving against her more ardently.
She abruptly shoved at him. He rocked against her again. She shoved harder.
“No,” she said in a voice hoarse with effort.
“Wha—?” He tried to focus his eyes.
She arched.
“Elise.” He buried his head in her hair.
“Get off me.” Her fingernails pressed through his shirt, biting into his shoulder.
Marcus lifted his head. “What has happened? What's wrong?”
Elise pushed harder, grunting with the useless effort. “I will not be your mistress.”
He frowned. “I'm not asking you to be my mistress.”
She stopped pushing at him. “Then what is this all about?”
“What does it look like?”
“Why don't you ask the woman you are going to marry?”
“I would be glad to, if she would allow it.”
Elise stared. “What kind of man involves his future wife with his mistress?” She began struggling again. “Let me go!”
“Not until you explain what this is about.”
“I have told you.”
“Nae. You've only spoken in riddles.”
“I'm sure Margaret would not think it was much of a riddle,” she retorted.
“Margaret? You're still fretting about her silly comments? I told you, tomorrow I will—” The horrified look on Elise's face halted him.
“Marcus,” she said in a trembling voice, “if you have any feeling for me, you will not do this. Margaret made it perfectly clear how she felt about you flaunting your mistress—”
“Flaunting my mistress?” Anger flooded him. “This is none of her bloody affair.”
“None of her affair? For God's sake, you are to marry her. I certainly wouldn't—”
“I what?”
Elise blanched.
“Margaret,” he said through gritted teeth, “I will wring your meddling little neck.”
Elise bristled. “You have no right to be angry just because she spoiled your plans.”
“Aye, but I do.”
“You think you can use women as pawns.”
“Love—”
“Do not address me in that familiar fashion. I tell you, I will not be your mistress.” She struggled beneath him. “I won't change my mind, no matter what you say.”
Marcus caught her face between his hands. “No matter what I say?”
She tried shaking her head, but he held her firm.
“I am happy to hear that,” he said. “For 'tis not Margaret I intend to marry, but you.”