Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
E verything had gone dreadfully, horribly wrong.
Marina looked at Percy, the lines of his face etched in anger, and at the viscount, sprawled ignominiously at his feet. She clutched her sore arm to her chest protectively and wondered how everything had gone so hideously, miserably wrong—and so damned quickly.
She'd been so dashed optimistic when they'd first exited the ballroom, the cool night air complimenting Marina's floating mood. Yes, she was still heartbroken and yes, there would still be a thousand challenges to face in the coming days and weeks. But that didn't mean she needed to sign up for a lifetime of further misery piled upon misery.
The veranda was just a bit too occupied for them to avoid being overheard, so Marina let the viscount lead her to the garden, where lights flickered even as the shadows grew longer.
They would sit on the bench, Marina plotted, and she would tell him that she would not marry him, as gently as she knew how. He would bluster, she had no doubt, and threaten to tell her cousin, but she would remain firm. Then she would go inside, find her mother, and tell her also very firmly that it was time to go home. The rest—apologizing to Lucy for leaving without saying goodbye, facing Martin, dealing with her heartbreak—could wait for tomorrow.
It was a good plan.
As Marina had been coming up with this very good plan, however, she suddenly realized, the viscount had led her a bit more deeply into the darkness of the garden than she would have strictly preferred. Marina came to a stop, glad when the viscount allowed it. She could still hear faint strains of music echoing over the lawns, and the occasional notes of laughter from those chatting and gossiping on the veranda. Deep in the garden, then, but perhaps not too deep, she rationalized.
"My lord," Marina began and then, because she was trying to appease him a bit before letting him down, amended her nomenclature. "Andrew," she said. Ugh . Still, sacrifices had to be made, and using his Christian name was a small enough one. The viscount smiled a slick, triumphant smile at getting her to do as he wished.
Marina took a deep breath. "Andrew," she said again. "I do appreciate your interest in me."
His smile broadened. "We make a good match."
Marina shook her head. "That's the thing," she said. "I don't think we do. I believe we should end our courtship here."
For several full seconds after Marina finished speaking, that mad smile on the viscount's face remained; he was evidently so used to getting his way that her rejection did not initially penetrate. Then his expression darkened as her words seemed to sink in.
"No," he said. Just no . As if her opinion wasn't even worth arguing with.
Again, Marina took a steadying breath. Polite but firm, she reminded herself.
"Yes," she said, putting a note of force behind the word. "You are a nice man, Andrew—" a lie, but a forgivable one "—but I fear that we do not suit. I feel it is best we acknowledge that now, before things go any further."
"No," said the viscount again—only now his tone was not dismissive, it was angry, angrier than Marina had ever heard it before. She didn't even have the time to properly become frightened before the viscount grabbed her by her upper arm in a grip that hurt and yanked her forward.
All at once, Marina realized several things. She could no longer clearly hear the noise from the party. The closest torch was quite far away. And she was entirely alone, in the dark, with a visibly furious Viscount Gloustoshire.
Marina tried to yank her arm from his grasp, but she didn't gain an inch. In response, the viscount tightened his hold until Marina knew she'd have bruises there the next day.
"You think to reject me ," he spat at her, rage turning the lines of his face ugly. "You think you're too good for me after you played the whore for my cousin?" Marina gasped at his language. "Allow me to tell you, Marina—" he shook her a little "—I will not be passed over by soiled goods like you."
"My lord!" Marina protested. "You're hurting me!"
The viscount did not loosen his grip, nor did he acknowledge that Marina had spoken. He seemed to almost be talking to himself, now, wild with anger.
"You act like you're better than you are, like you're some prim and proper young lady, when we could all see that you're nothing more than a wanton." He shook Marina again, harder this time, and she cried out. "Maybe I should treat you like a wanton, then," he said, tone dark and cruel. "See you the rest of the way ruined, not that you've much reputation left. Then you'd have to marry me."
With these ominous words, he began pawing at the front of her dress.
"No!" Marina cried, fear making her movement jerky as she tried to push him away. "Stop!"
Several things happened very quickly after that. First, the viscount leaned even further in, until Marina could see the wild, uncontrolled look in his eye. Then, she spotted a flicker of movement in the shadows. Her eyes widened, surprise taking hold even before she fully registered what she was seeing. And Viscount Gloustoshire followed her gaze just as Percy came charging forward, fist first.
The crunch as they collided seemed to echo through the quiet night.
"How dare you," Percy heaved out, breath coming fast and hard as if he had been fighting for ages, instead of knocking his cousin to the ground with a single blow. The viscount sprawled at his feet, looking dazed.
"How dare you speak to her that way—speak to any woman that way! How dare you put your hands on her against her wishes. I should kill you, you bastard." Percy placed himself between Marina and his cousin, though the viscount did not look as though he planned to be rising any time soon. He still seemed baffled to find himself on the ground.
Still, he shook his head, which seemed to hurt him, and nearly visibly scrambled for an excuse. "She wasn't unwilling, cousin," he said, his voice coming out like a whine. "You know how she is, a slut who plays games—"
Marina didn't even need to protest, because Percy bent down, grabbed the viscount by the lapels, and hit him again.
"I said," Percy commanded, voice low and dangerous, "that you were not to speak of her that way. Say one more word and I will kill you."
The viscount, wisely in Marina's opinion, remained quiet.
Keeping one eye on his cousin's prone form, Percy turned to her, taking care to calm his expression before he approached. He reached out a slow hand in her direction, leaving the last of the space up to her to close. Rattled, Marina could not hold back from throwing herself into his arms.
"Are you all right?" Percy asked, voice low, keeping his grip light, not caging her even as his hands gently moved over her shoulders, seemingly searching for injuries. Marina pressed her face into his chest for one moment, seeking comfort in the warmly spiced scent of him, before taking a step back. He let his hands fall instantly.
"Yes," she said, a faint tremor in her voice. She breathed and her next words came out steadier. "Yes. He grabbed my arm but—yes, I'm not harmed."
Percy nodded. He reached out towards her cheek, but dropped his hand before he made contact. He turned back towards his cousin.
"You," he said, disgust evident in his voice, "are going to leave. Not just this party—you are going to leave London, and you are never going to return. Go to your estate or go to the Continent. I don't care which. But if I ever see you again—" His voice grew lower, threat apparent. "—if I even have cause to hear your name again, I will ruin you." The viscount opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but Percy continued. "I will call in every favor. I will spend any amount of money. I will yield all my influence. I will not rest until you are penniless, and the entirety of Britain uses the name Andrew Dunn like the worst sort of swear. Do you understand me?"
The viscount, seeming to understand that now was not the time for speech, merely nodded.
"Good," Percy said. "Now get out of here before I decide to kill you anyway."
With one last reproachful look at his cousin, the viscount scrambled to his feet and hurried away at an awkward run. Marina watched him go, feeling an odd mix of emotions: relief, of course, and the last residue of alarm that was only beginning to fade. She felt a twinge of triumph at watching the viscount forced to turn tail and run, stripped of his power. And, strangely, she felt annoyed at Percy.
She seized on this last feeling, as it seemed the easiest to manage.
"You didn't have to do that," she said, voice tart.
Percy turned from where he, too, had been watching his cousin's hasty retreat. "I beg your pardon?" he said.
"I didn't need your rescue," Marina said snappishly, distantly aware of how ridiculous she sounded.
Even in the paltry light, Marina could see that Percy's expression said she was being insane. "He attacked you, Marina," he said, as if she didn't already know that.
"I am perfectly aware," retorted Marina. "But I can take care of myself—and you have made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in being by my side, anyway, so I certainly don't need help from you ."
It wasn't nice, and it wasn't fair—Marina knew this. She should be thanking him. But as her heartbreak and the tumult of the last few minutes—of the last few days —spilled out, Marina found she couldn't find the polite words. All she had was her irritation and her hurt.
Now Percy, too, was beginning to look annoyed. "You can take care of yourself?" he echoed, tone disbelieving. "If you could take care of yourself, you wouldn't have ended up in a dark garden alone with a man like Andrew!"
Marina's ire rose higher. "And whose fault is it that I was out here with him? I've scarcely slept in days! How am I supposed to pay attention when you made me trust you—and then broke my heart!"
The admission hung in the air between them. Marina wished she could snatch it back. After everything, it wasn't as though she wanted or needed to sign her up for more humiliation.
Percy's expression instantly softened, but it was etched with hope, not pity. "Marina," he said, voice soft. "I'm so sorry."
This was not what Marina had expected.
"You are?" she asked warily. She could not dare to hope. She could not see this apology for more than it was.
"I am." Percy took a step closer to her, and the way this caused him to tilt his head down meant that Marina couldn't see his eyes in this dim lighting. She wished she could see his eyes. "I have behaved abominably. I take full responsibility. Only—" He broke off.
"Only?" Marina prompted, unable to help herself.
"Only let me defend you, please," he said. His tone was exhorting, earnest. "Let me protect you and care for you. I know you can do it for yourself—know you've had to do it for yourself for far too long. But please. Let me shoulder some of this burden."
Marina's chest felt tight. She wanted to ask what he meant by this but was too terrified to do so.
"I don't know…" she said instead, trailing off.
Percy took another step forward. He wasn't crowding her, clearly offering some deference to his cousin's bad behavior. When he reached out his hand a touch, however, the backs of his fingers skimmed against the back of her hand. Even that light touch sent lightning through Marina's veins.
"Please," he said again. "I know I have been the worst kind of idiot—I trusted Andrew when I shouldn't have, and I didn't trust you when I ought to have done so without reservation. It has been pointed out to me more than once tonight," he added, a rueful note creeping into his voice, "that I can be sometimes a bit more stubborn than is good for me." Despite herself, Marina had to smile a little at that.
"I have been so determined to block out everything that might be bad," Percy went on, voice thick with emotion, "that I have risked shutting out the good, as well. I was so afraid of opening myself up to weakness, to liability. I thought it would make it like my father."
"No—" Marina began, but Percy hooked one finger around hers, stopping her with a shake of his head.
"Don't, Marina," he said. "Don't defend me. Because loving you is not a liability, and even if it were, I wouldn't care. Loving you is worth the risk. The only risk I cannot bear is not letting you know. I cannot risk losing you without trying to win you back."
For a moment, Marina was speechless. The silence stretched and Percy's face crumpled. "If I'm too late—" he began.
"No!" Marina exclaimed; it was her turn to cut him off now. "No, you're not. I mean—you love me?"
Percy's smile was so soft, so fragile that it nearly broke Marina's heart. "Yes," he said. "I love you so dearly. I told you, I was an idiot—but I see things more clearly now. I love you, and I want to marry you, if you'll only forgive me."
Marina didn't have the words to answer. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. Percy stumbled a half step backwards before his arms came around her, but by then Marina was kissing everything she could reach: his cheeks, his nose, his jaw.
Percy laughed, a sharp, joyous sound. "Is that a yes, then?" he asked, sounding breathless.
"Yes," Marina said between kisses. "Yes, I forgive you. Yes, I love you too. Yes, I'll marry you."
At this last, Percy brought his hands up to her hair, stopping her darting movements so that he could kiss her properly, holding her mouth to his. "Marina, my darling," he said against her lips.
"Percy," she said back, daring a little nip against his lower lip. "Mine."
They were silent after that for a long while, each too feverish in their need for each other to speak. Marina catalogued each of the sensations of their embrace: the faint scrape of stubble just starting to prickle out of his chin as his cheek rubbed hers; his scent, warm and familiar; the taste of him, delicious and hers, hers, hers. She felt the thrum of his heartbeat and realized with a rush of giddy happiness that she didn't have to store these memories for later. She could have him, just like this, whenever she wanted.
She tangled her tongue in with his, pressing up as high as she could on her tiptoes, unable to press herself close enough to him to satisfy her. With a hungry grunt, Percy brought one large hand against her bottom—which was thrilling beyond measure—and used the leverage to pull her even more tightly against him.
They kissed for an eternity, and it wasn't long enough. It would never be long enough, Marina thought, and was not pleased when Percy, who managed to gather his wits about him for a moment, pulled his face from hers.
"Marina," he said, her name like a caress. "My love. We're in a garden."
What a time for banal observations. Marina ran her hands under Percy's jacket, against the warm planes of his chest. She hadn't explored him nearly enough during their previous encounters. She intended to rectify that immediately.
"Marina," Percy said again.
"Less talking, more kissing," Marina ordered.
He laughed at that, but still took a step back, holding her away from him by her shoulders. Marina frowned.
"Darling," he said, and she thrilled to hear it, though she still thought that kissing was a better use of his mouth at this particular moment in time. "We are in a garden outside a ball. We can't keep this up here; we'll be seen."
Marina looked around herself as if she'd never seen a garden before. Well, she rationalized, maybe she had just never seen a garden while being affianced before. Surely it was the mutual expression of love that made the whole world look different.
Still, though, Percy had a point. They were too close to the party to have the kind of privacy necessary for the things Marina wanted to do, which involved far less clothing than was currently in play.
"Right," she said breathlessly. "Let's go, then." And she grabbed him by the hand and tugged him further into the darkness.
"What?" asked Percy, laughter in his tone. He followed after her obediently, though.
It didn't take Marina long to find what she was looking for: a gazebo, tucked deep enough in the garden that the party was little more than a far-off dream. It was awash in moonlight, the cool illumination seeming somehow brighter for its distance from the torches and candlelight. This light, a cozy natural glow, felt entirely untouched by other humans. It was a magical sort of light, one that showed a place just for them.
Marina kept up the tugging pressure on Percy's hand until they reached the low benches that edged the gazebo, then pushed him to seated with a gentle shove to the center of his chest. Feeling unaccountably brazen, she clambered atop his lap, legs on either side of his hips. Percy made a low groaning sound and, even though her skirts, Marina could feel the sensation of him hardening beneath her.
Well. That was even more thrilling than the hand on her bottom.
"My love," she murmured, pressing the words into the patch of skin behind his ear. Percy gave a little grumble in response. "I want you so desperately. I can't wait."
The passion that was bubbling up inside Marina felt almost too big to contain. It was joy. It was elation. It was love, unadulterated, and she had no desire to hold it back. She was going after what she wanted, and what she wanted was Percy.
"Marina," Percy responded, sounding a bit dazed. "My God, I want you, too, you have no notion. But your first time—it should be better than this—you deserve flowers, and fine linens, and—"
"I don't want any of that," Marina interjected, then cut off any further protests with a long, slow kiss. She was full of heat. "I just want you."
Percy pulled back—would he not stop doing that?—but not far, and looked her in the eye. "You're sure?" he asked lowly. "We needn't rush. I don't want you to feel pressured, especially after—" Marina cut him off with another kiss before he could reference his cousin. The viscount didn't have a place here, not in their perfect moment.
"I'm sure," she said when they came up for air. She could see him starting to relent but wriggled a little in his lap for good measure. He swore under his breath and Marina grinned at him. "Don't I feel sure?"
Whether the motion or the mocking words, this moment seemed to unlock something in Percy. He grasped her around the waist with one strong arm and flipped them, until Marina was lying on her back on the cool, smooth bench and he was above her, one hand propping him up, the other trailing down her throat.
"You don't play fair, woman," he said, voice rough. It didn't sound like a complaint, however, and Marina could not stop herself from smiling broadly up at him. His fingers stilled. "Look at you," he said softly. "So beautiful."
Marina hoped the moonlight hid the intensity of her blush.
Just in case she didn't, she pulled Percy's face back down to hers. He allowed her hold for a moment, then retreated enough to explore more of her body.
"Next time," he said, trailing his touch across her decolletage, and the promise of a next time caused Marina's breath to catch as much as did the sensation of skin against skin. "Next time, I will have you somewhere I cannot be rushed. I will have you somewhere where you needn't be quiet." He tugged the neckline of her bodice gently down, the edge teasing, teasing until one breast popped free. Marina whimpered at the sudden, but not unpleasant, wash of cool air against her heated flesh. Just as quickly, though, Percy's hand was there, warmer but no less teasing.
"I will have you somewhere I can wring every last sound, every last moment of pleasure from you." His mouth was at her collarbone now, then placing searing kisses against the curve of her chest. "Then, when you are limp and satisfied, I shall hold you close as we sleep, and when you wake, I shall love you all over again."
"Yes," Marina gasped, unable to get out anything else through her heaving breaths. "Please."
Ball gowns being what they were, there came a point where Marina's dress simply would not go any lower. Undeterred, Percy merely began his slow—too damned slow, as far as Marina was concerned—exploration from an alternate direction. Leaving the bulk of his weight leaning against her, he reached down to clasp her ankle in one hand, drawing her knee up and around his hip. This new posture caused the heavy weight between Percy's legs to press even more deliciously against Marina's core, and she could not help the thrust up of her hips against him.
"Christ," Percy said, grip on her leg squeezing for a moment as his head dropped forward to her hair. "Marina. Marina."
"You feel so good," she whispered to him. "I need more."
Percy groaned, and unintelligible sound that somehow connoted the depth of his desire better than words ever could. His fingers skated up her leg, moving faster than they had been before, until he reached her knee, then the top of her stocking.
"Next time," he said, voice rougher now, "I will know the color of these ribbons." He teased with the edge of the satin ribbon that held her stockings. "I will light a thousand candles and I will see every inch of you. No part hidden."
Now it was Marina's turn to let out a wordless noise of desire. This sound grew even sharper as Percy reached higher, his fingertips finding the place where she was wet and aching, one finger, then two, slipping inside as he caressed her.
"Percy," she panted. It felt like the only word she knew. "Percy. Percy."
He was teasing around and around her sensitive nub and Marina felt the coil of desire in her stomach grow tighter and tighter. "That's right, beautiful," Percy coaxed. "You are so perfect. Yes, my darling, that's just right, fall apart for me."
And Marina did. With a sharp cry that Percy instantly caught in his mouth, she tumbled into her crisis, pleasure coursing through her in waves. The sensation went on and on, Percy touching her in just the right ways to keep her pleasure going, and when the feeling finally abated, Marina found that, unlike the last time they had been together like this, she did not feel satisfied.
That had been lovely, to be certain. But she still wanted more.
And, judging from the insistent pressure against Marina's thigh, Percy did too.
When he slipped his hand from under her skirts, Marina grasped tightly at his shoulders, lest he try to pull away from her. He didn't even try, the sensible man.
"I want all of you," she said, unashamed of the desperate note in her voice. She wanted him and she wanted him to know that she wanted him. "Please," she said. "Let me have all of you."
"Yes," he said on a gasp as Marina's reached for the fastening on his trousers. "God, yes, you are a perfect woman. I love you. Marina. I love you."
He ran out of words when Marina managed to wrap her hand around him. He was somehow both soft to the touch and impossibly hard, and Marina could not help but explore him with curious fingers, propping herself up on her elbow so she could see, as well. When he saw where her gaze was headed, his head dropped forward.
"Fuck," he muttered, and Marina felt like an absolute genius, like a goddess of old, for being able to wrangle these reactions out of him.
"Percy," she whined, running out of patience.
Percy grabbed her with a growl.
The bench was too narrow for him to get atop her without crushing her, so Percy turned them until he was seated upright, with her astride. It was similar to their position from before, though notably more salacious, with Marina's bodice half around her waist and her skirts rucked up nearly as high.
"Oh," she murmured when she felt the heat of him against her. "Oh, oh."
Percy guided her with firm hands to raise herself up, then notched his head at her entrance. "You must tell me if I hurt you," he urged, voice sounding nearly pained.
Marina nodded eagerly. She would have no doubt agreed to almost anything at that moment; she needed him with everything that she was.
The press of him into her was not immediately comfortable, though the languor of her earlier release no doubt guided the way. They had to go slow, pressing incrementally closer to one another, and even as Marina struggled with this odd new stretch to her body, she couldn't help but admire the strong line of his neck, corded with the effort of allowing her to set the pace.
When they were entirely together, as close as two people could be, Marina felt a sense of fullness that went beyond the physical. He was hers , she thought with a sense of wonder. Hers, forever .
Gradually, Marina's discomfort faded, and a new impulse filled her. She began to shift her hips experimentally, taking small movements at first, then growing bolder.
"Oh, blast," Percy murmured. "Oh, bollocks. Oh, Marina, you feel far too good."
This position, Marina realized, as she moved with Percy, gave her control. Yes, there was his gripping hand on her hip, guiding her with delicious pressure, but Marina held the power of movement. She felt a sudden rush of love for this man, who always gave to her freely what others tried to take away.
"Mmm," Marina agreed, lost in the sensation of their movement together. It was a beautiful expression of their feelings for one another, lovemaking, she realized. Perhaps not always, or for everyone, but when one was in love? Yes, yes, absolutely. She felt as though her heart would burst with it.
"Marina," Percy kept panting, her name like a litany, like a prayer. "Marina. Marina." He snaked a hand between them, rubbing his thumb over that sensitive place at the apex of her thighs. The wonderful friction between them suddenly became a thousand times stronger, more marvelous, more encompassing.
"Oh!" Marina exclaimed, almost surprised, as the feeling came upon her so much more rapidly than before. She rose and rose and rose and then tumbled and, as she did, Percy swore and clasped her more firmly to him as his body shook with their shared pleasure.
For a moment, their heaving breaths were the only sound that interrupted the dreamy ambiance of the night. Marina, too boneless to do anything else, tucked her face into the crook of Percy's neck, breathing him in. Percy's fingers played with her curls as their racing hearts calmed.
"I don't mean to be autocratic," he said when he'd slipped from her body and tugged up her bodice, still hugging her close to him against the chill of the night air. "But I am going to insist that we marry quickly."
"As quickly as possible," Marina agreed, fighting against the sleepiness that was rapidly fighting to overtake her. She needed to fix her gown and her hair and head back inside. But it was hard to feel any sense of urgency, not when she felt so safe in Percy's arms.
"Yes," said Percy, his speech rumbling through her. "Bad enough that I have to let you go home tonight. I'll not survive many nights more."
"Impatient," Marina teased, as if she did not feel exactly the same way.
"For you?" Percy asked, nuzzling against her temple in a manner that was far more soothing than it ought to be. "Always."