Chapter 11 #2
“Yes. Now marry me, and then you never need worry about hurting anyone ever again.”
“Oh, that is a promise too good to be true.”
“Try,” he whispered. “Just try.”
“Well, it seems since I’ve met you, I’m willing to try many things.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, his eyes searching over her face.
She beamed at him. “Yes. It’s a yes.”
“Good!” he crowed. “Then I’m going to ask for a special license. I want to be married straight away.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want you,” he growled, pulling her more tightly against him.
“Oh,” she said, blushing.
“Don’t you want me too?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Oh, of course I do. I just never—”
“Never what?” he teased.
She bit her lower then rushed, “I never thought someone like you could desire someone like me. You’re a beloved member of the ton and I am but a wallflower.”
“Wallflower,” he breathed. “Oh, Muriel, you are the most glorious of wildflowers.”
Perseus knew he should not, but he could not resist her there in the coach as he twined his hand about hers.
The promise of her body was impossible to ignore, and he wanted her to know how much he hungered for her. Since their first kiss, he’d wanted more. So much more, and so he cupped her cheek and tilted her head back.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes tracing over his face.
“Giving into temptation,” he murmured as desire that defied reason pumped through his blood.
“Oh? Am I so very tempting?” she teased.
“You have no idea,” he returned, his gaze lowering to her lips. “Let me show you how very tempting you are.”
He took her mouth, seizing it with his own, determined to show her just how wild she made him, how often his thoughts turned to stripping her naked and worshiping her body, from her perfectly coiled curls to her slippered feet.
Oh, how he longed to make love to every bit of her, to become acquainted with her every curve, her every valley.
He could not do that here in the coach, but he could certainly make a good beginning. He teased her lips with his tongue. She parted them, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, delving deeply, teasing.
Her tongue tentatively tangled with his.
He kissed her until both of them were breathing raggedly.
She arched against him, hungry for more.
He longed to take her clothes off, but on such a short journey from Heron House to Covent Garden, he could not risk it, but there was still much he could show her.
He kissed his way down the line of her throat and then kissed the swells of her breasts. He let his hand wander to the folds of her skirt, sliding it ever upward, teasing the silk stockings covering her calves.
He paused and reveled in the moment when he met bare skin.
She gasped. “I shouldn’t let you do this,” she whispered.
“Should I stop?” he asked.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
In reply, he slipped his fingers ever upward as he continued to kiss her mouth. Then when his fingers met her hot folds, he was delighted to find that she was already slick and ready to be teased.
Never ceasing in his kisses, he circled his fingers over her petals, stroking them, bringing her to excitement.
Her own desire shimmied through her, as she moaned and reveled in his caress.
He touched her and stroked her and found that spot which would drive her to ecstasy. Once he did, he did not stop. He did not stop circling or stroking until she was holding on tightly to his shoulders as if for dear life.
With a final light stroke of his thumb, she crashed into a wave of pleasure.
She broke the kiss and called out his name as she shattered with ecstasy.
After a moment, while holding her in his arms, he smoothed her skirts down. Oh how he wanted to take her now, but he could not. He would have to wait. But he knew in his heart that she would soon be his.
But before he could say another word, the coach rolled up before the theater.
He opened the door and let out an exclamation. “It’s stopped raining.”
“What? “she asked, hardly daring to believe it.
He looked back at her and gave her a cheeky grin. “Of course it did. The moment you agreed to marry me, the skies parted and the sun came out.”
She laughed again. Her life was so full of laughter now. “Perseus, you are too much.”
He waggled his brows at her. “And it’s delightful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she agreed, “it is. Now give me your hand.”
He did, and she jumped down into the squelching mud. She nearly lost her boots in it, but he guided her to the board that led inside the theater, and they went to the costume room, where she quickly changed her clothes.
It would be so easy to get lost in his passion, but she did not have time for that, not right now. Not when her dreams were dancing before her, not when she could look with all her focus and know exactly what she wanted.
And he wanted that too, which made her love him more.
She put her costume on, headed out to the stage, and she stood there. At home at last, feeling as if she had been beckoned back somewhere that she’d always been. As if this was the place she had come from and that she would always be going to.
It was incredibly lonely for a moment, standing there in the gaping empty theater, her heart aching, not with sorrow, but the understanding that she was so different from her own family and that it might hurt them that she was choosing this.
She would wait.
She would marry Perseus, she would let her sisters wed, and then she would dare to claim this. When no one could be hurt, when no lives could be undone, she would stride out here on the stage and do what she was born to do.