Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Adena started, and was surprised to find herself so closely nestled to the strong man whom she had only met a few hours ago – and who now admitted himself jealous of the man she was to marry?
“I am sure I should not say such a thing,” he was continuing, and Adena tried to listen to him whilst controlling the heat of confusion that was rising in her chest as she became more conscious of their closeness – and his bizarre words.
“But then I do not want to hold back with you. I feel like…like I can say anything. Even if it means revealing just how envious I am that this man, whoever he is, will have you to himself.”
Adena felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and a twist of fluttering flattery fanned her heart. Why, to think that Luke was jealous, jealous of a man that simply did not exist! Where had he got this idea from, that she was to be married – and should she tell him?
Her hand, before so unconsciously touching his thigh, now seemed like a wanton movement, but Adena did not want to move it. Her hand felt natural there, as though it belonged there.
Luke had turned his head slightly, and he was staring at her now. “Say something,” he said in a low tone, his eyes earnestly seeking hers out.
She opened her mouth, but hesitated. Surely it would be wrong to allow him to think that she was engaged to be married when she was not – and a part of her, and it was a growing part of her, wanted him to know that she was not. That she was free. That she could be proposed to.
The thought of him saying such delicious words to her caused another blush, and Adena said distractedly, “Luke, I am confused.”
And now it was his turn to be embarrassed.
She watched as his forehead crinkled and he fought the instinct to look away, but he swallowed and continued gazing into her eyes as he said, in a low and fervent tone, “Only this. That whoever he is, the man whom you have given your heart to, he is a fortunate man, blessed beyond many, and I would gladly give up the title, or the wealth, to exchange places with him.”
Such words, such feeling: Adena’s breath caught in her lungs and she found herself leaning closer to him, revelling in the feeling of him.
There was only one thing to say.
“Luke, I am not engaged,” she said softly, gazing up at him through her lashes.
If she had expected a jubilant response, she was to be disappointed.
“Not – not engaged?” Luke’s frown became more furrowed, and he shook his head slowly as he looked out to the sea again. “Now I am the one who is confused.”
Adena smiled at his obvious disquiet, and murmured, “I never intimated that I was engaged to be married, or I should have understood your words – ”
“But – you said,” Luke interrupted, looking at her once more.
“And I cannot quote it exactly, my memory is not exact, but something along the lines that you had started to weary of dukes and titles, and that you were here hiding from your very own future title! Adena, I could not have been mistaken,”
Understanding finally dawned, and a warm shiver moved up her spine as his lips sounded her name.
Adena could not help but laugh. “Oh, Luke, did the word ‘hiding’ not give you any clue? It is true, a match has been suggested between myself and a certain gentleman – a gentleman who shall remain nameless, so there is no use in asking me – but that match has not been agreed.”
Her green eyes watched his dark ones as he began to understand. “So you…you have not accepted…”
“‘Tis my parents match, not my choice,” she replied quietly.
“It would certainly be advantageous for the family, which is why it is pushed so strongly, and has been for these last two years. He is wealthy, to be sure, as we are, but also titled, connected, respected. Everything that my family is not.”
Most of the bitterness from her heart was removed before her words reached her mouth, but Adena was not entirely successful, and Luke seemed to notice.
“You tire of him.”
“I tire of the whole debacle,” Adena sighed, and she felt Luke’s arm move from propping him up to clasp her to his side, his arm hot against her back, his hand by her hip, his fingers delicately placed, and then firmly embracing her curve.
A warm glow started between her legs, and she did not understand, and so she kept speaking.
“It is unbelievably irritating, to feel the pressure of another’s wishes boring down on you for months upon months. ”
He was watching her. “Your parents wish it?”
Adena tried not to laugh. “I honestly believe that they have wished me to marry for quite some time.
My brothers can join the family business, of course, but as a daughter, I am nothing but an expense ‘til I am wed. My father is in trade, and the opportunity to marry beyond our class…always attempting to push me onto noblemen, considering every social occasion a mere excuse to meet with a man you cannot like and do not respect…”
“You – you do not like him?”
It was impossible for Adena to be oblivious of the feeling in Luke’s words, but she attempted to ignore them – there was no point in her hoping, he was a marquis and undoubtedly had far better prospects back in good society.
But then why the jealousy? Adena glanced at him, and saw something deep in his eyes that could be…
“I do not like him,” she agreed quietly.
Luke smiled at her wryly. “Why?”
Adena opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
“You must have a reason,” Luke continued, and she felt the delightful pressure of his fingers on her hip, close to where the mounting heat was pooling in her body. “Everyone has a reason for liking some people and not others.”
She turned her gaze to the fire, as the less intense of the two, and tried to laugh nonchalantly. “I suppose it is because there is no connection between us.”
There was a moment of silence, broken by just two words from her handsome companion. “No connection.”
Adena could not help it; she tilted her face towards him, and saw such an intensity in Luke’s face that she almost gasped aloud. “No,” she managed. “No connection.”
“What does that even mean?” He whispered.
She swallowed, and then replied softly, “I am not attracted to him.”
Luke did nothing but gaze into her eyes, but Adena would have sworn that his grip on her hips, wonderful as it was, tightened and moved lower to cup the roundness of her bottom. Her heart was beating faster, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do, but she knew she would never have the courage.
“I believe that it is important,” she found herself saying, in a stronger voice this time, but still breathless, “to feel attracted to one’s spouse. After all, how can…can you make love with someone who does not inspire that in you? And…and I do not feel that with him.”
They were as close together as Adena thought they could be, but she was wrong. Luke moved his face an inch closer to hers, and his eyes flickered down from her eyes to her lips, wet from speech, partly open with the desire that Adena knew she felt.
“And do you feel it with me?”
Adena almost cried out then, the intensity of the longing was too great, but she stopped herself.
She knew exactly what Luke, Marquis of Dewsbury wanted: perhaps she had always known, from the minute that she had laid eyes on him – or he on her.
And she wanted it; wanted to be close to him, as close as you could be to a man, and Luke was the one to possess her, to please her, to propose to her, even.
Just one word. That is all it would take for her to say, and she knew that the self-restraint, if self-restraint you could call it, would completely fall away – from both of them.
“Yes,” Adena whispered, her eyes sparkling with the desire she could no longer hide and her mouth ready for his kiss. “Yes, I feel it with you, Luke.”
She saw a gleam of joy, of triumph, of glory in his eyes, and he bent his head to lower his lips to hers, and hers were open and ready for him, ready for the kiss that would start something so sweet.
And then he paused. They could not be closer, his nose alongside hers, his free hand now tangled in her hair, and he was breathing heavily, and so was she, and yet it had all stopped.
So close as they were to succumbing to the pleasure that they knew they both wanted, everything had come to a standstill.
“Luke?” She managed to breath. “Luke, kiss me. Make love to me.”
And with a moan that was almost a growl, he did.
Every want, every thought, every desire: they were all now realised, and Luke had to remind himself to restrain his passions at first, not to overwhelm the beautiful woman that had allowed him to kiss her, to touch her, to claim every delight of her body.
But restraint did not seem to be something that Miss Adena Garland was interested in.
The moment that their lips touched, Luke could sense the barely controlled desire in her, and his spirit responded in kind, drawing open her lips like a shell hiding a pearl, and groaning into her mouth at the sweetness of her kiss.
Her hair was so soft, and its fiery red colour contrasted wildly with the golden yellow sand as Luke gently lowered her down, still worshipping her mouth with his own.
The hand that was on her hip had enjoyed such sensations already, but now that she was beneath him, and he was encircled in her legs, the same hand held her tight to prevent the instinctive rocking that overwhelmed her.
“Not yet,” he managed to say, dragging his lips from hers to look down on her wild and untamed eyes.
Her hands were around his neck, and she pulled him down again, desperate for his kiss – and he was more than willing to give it.
She was evidently new to this, utterly untouched, and Luke revelled in the teaching: first slow, then light, then fast and deep as his tongue claimed her completely and she moaned in his mouth.