Chapter 13
“No!” Meredith jerked her hand from Darius’s grip and stepped away from him. The lovely morning light that had lulled her into warm thoughts of being in Darius’s arms was now too bright, making her face hot and her body tense.
She was alone with Darius in his study, a scenario which she’d been hopeful for before he had stridently—thoughtlessly—told her that they would have to marry.
It hadn’t been a declaration of love, or a romantic sweeping into his arms as he professed he would die with her.
No, he’d stated their upcoming marriage as a matter of fact, and it was simply a matter of choosing a date for the ceremony.
Now he stood between her and the door she had hoped to escape through.
“No?” He arched a dark brow. “Is that your favorite word now?” His voice soft, seductive. She realized then that he didn’t understand what he thought was teasing, would instead exasperate and wound her.
His words reminded her of last night, how they’d been so teasing and intimate with each other. Now it felt as though a knife had plunged into her heart, and she couldn’t feel anything but pain…and anger. Oh yes, she was so very angry at him for turning her affection for him against her.
Last night had been such a wonderful gift.
After the ball, she had fallen asleep dreaming of him, of his lips on her skin, his hands cupping and caressing her body and that powerful sense of connection when their bodies had joined together.
It was everything she’d ever imagined and more.
It was more than she’d ever hoped to share with a man.
Then he’d ruined the memory by telling her … no, by informing her they would marry.
There had been no romantic prelude, no words spoken from his heart. Only a statement of fact as dry as the reading of a bill in Parliament. She had barely finished her breakfast before he’d pulled her into the study and told her they would be married within a few weeks.
“Darius, I cannot marry you.” Not like this. Not forced.
His blue eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because you are only doing this out of a sense of duty and obligation.” She twisted her hands in her skirts, unable to meet his gaze now that the words were out.
“My life is built upon my sense of duty and obligation. That is what it means to bear the title of Tiverton.” That black bit of anguish in Meredith’s stomach only grew deeper.
He didn’t seem to understand what she’d said.
Or perhaps he did, but his response made it clear he didn’t understand why it mattered to her.
“Do not force me, Darius.”
He moved toward her, grasping her by the arms before she could dodge around the chair behind her.
“Meredith, you desire me,” he whispered.
“I know you do. I also know that you care for me…” He leaned down, his face nuzzling hers.
The nearness of him, the heat of him, sent her senses spinning just as it had last night.
She could feel that quickening in her blood as her body wound tight with the excited promise of what he could make her feel.
She hated that he was right. She cared so very much about him. She loved him. But that love was killing her because it wasn’t returned.
“I do care …” she admitted. “But that alone is not enough to tie us together.” She pushed against his chest, desperate to put space between them, but he would not budge.
She could not think clearly when he touched her.
“You would be trapped with me, the wife you never wanted, the wife that shamed you in the eyes of society.”
She could tell he still did not understand that marrying her would cost him his influence in society, or that a loveless marriage would destroy her. It did not matter that he had some affection for her. Affection was not the same as love.
“Send me away, Darius. Let me be a stranger to you once more. Then you will be free.” Her shoulders slumped, her body suddenly heavy with misery. She did not know where the words had come from, but she had nearly died inside saying them.
His eyes darkened as he curled his fingers around the back of her neck and rubbed the tight knot of muscles there. He lifted her chin with his other hand, forcing her eyes to meet his.
“You would have me abandon you?” The flash of fury upon his face was like a storm sweeping over the Yorkshire dales. She braced for his fury, but he simply waited for her to speak instead.
“I…” She didn’t know what to say. “Would it not it be better if you did?”
“Better for whom?” he growled. “Because it would not be better for me.”
“Darius, please. Lady Mary made it abundantly clear what society thinks of me, and she is far from alone in that opinion. You cannot fight the ton. Not for me.”
“But I thought that’s what you wanted of me. To defend you and fight the world for you?”
She did. Lord, she did. But she didn’t want him to come to her defense out of duty. She wanted him to come to her defense out of love. No one could truly love someone who forced them into such a situation.
“You shouldn’t have to defend me.” She tried to pull away again. “If I should marry, it should be to someone like Mr. Jordan Evers. He would—”
Darius captured her mouth with his, assaulting her senses with his masterful lips.
He trapped her wrists behind her back with one of his hands while he fisted the other in the loose curls of her hair and held her still for his sensual exploration.
She became vaguely aware of him backing her up against his desk, then the sounds of papers being pushed off it in a flurry of chaos before he lifted her up and set her down on its edge.
She murmured a question against his lips as his hands pushed her skirt up to her waist.
“Hush, woman,” he said with a darkly commanding voice. She gasped as his fingers found their way between the folds of her sex, penetrating her.
“Oh!” She arched into him as he stroked her and teased her mercilessly. His mouth came down over hers again as he pleasured her.
“No one will touch this beautiful body but me, do you understand? You’re mine, Meredith. Mine to kiss, mine to pleasure…”
He nipped her lips, and the sting made her womb clench in excitement.
She grasped his shoulders and then dug her fingers into his hair, desperate to hold on to him as his wicked fingers did magical, wonderful, sinful things to her.
He rocked against her, mirroring the thrusting of his fingers as he continued to kiss her.
His lips parted hers, his tongue playing with hers.
An erotic warmth spread throughout her body.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me play with you.”
Her face flushed at Darius’s wicked words. He spoke as though she was only a plaything for his pleasure. But rather than feeling offended, it only made her wetter wherever his fingers touched her. She whimpered when he brushed his thumb over the sensitive pearl of her clit.
“Yes!” she panted. “More!” She wanted him to keep going, even as she twisted and writhed to escape the overly sensitive caresses. It was the most exquisite torture she ever could have imagined.
His low, rough chuckle against her kiss-swollen lips was like entering a dark heaven, tasting hedonistic pleasures in a way she never imagined possible. She couldn’t imagine feeling safe enough with any other man to allow him to touch her like that. No one but Darius.
They moved together, his hand on her hips, chasing that bright pinnacle of pleasure.
It was as though she was racing uphill in the bright morning sunlight on a summer day.
Her skin burned sweetly beneath the light and her breath came faster, harder, as her body reached toward the peak and then she was falling, rolling, spinning madly as her body turned into a splash of colorful pleasure that had stars shooting across her closed eyelids.
Soft, warm lips gently caressed her as she drifted down to earth, and when her lashes fluttered open, she saw only Darius’s handsome face.
The pure blue orbs of his eyes were like a summer spring sky gazing back at her with a possessive hunger tempered with tenderness.
He stroked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, and she realized his other hand was still between her legs, gently stroking her tender flesh, drawing out trembling little aftershocks.
Meredith clutched his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles of his body as they breathed together in the silence of the room. Then he withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers with a handkerchief.
“We shall be married, and soon. That is the end of this discussion,” he said. “I must meet with Warren to arrange things. I shall return this afternoon.”
Meredith was too sated from his touch to argue. Darius stole one last kiss from her before he left the study. She remained on his desk, still bewildered, her body limp and head muddled.
When she was able to collect herself, she fixed her skirts and walked on shaky legs to the study door. She had just a moment to see Darius putting on his coat and meeting Warren at the entryway before they departed. She approached the butler as he closed the door behind them.
“Chelsea, where has Darius gone?”
“To the Doctors’ Commons.”
“The Doctors’ Commons?” she echoed. “Why is he bound there?”
“To apply for a special marriage license from the ecclesiastical courts. I believe he seeks an audience with the Archbishop of Canterbury to approve the application for the license.”
Meredith swallowed hard. He had left to get a marriage license, which meant he hadn’t listened to a word she said. No, he had seduced her into compliance.
“Thank you, Mr. Chelsea,” she murmured and walked with dragging steps up to the bedchamber with a fresh sense of dread weighing her down.
Mrs. Petersham was coming down the corridor, adjusting a dark gold shawl over her dark brown silk gown that made her glow with warmth. She smiled at Meredith, but when Meredith didn’t return it, the smile slipped away.