Chapter 23 #2
Her explosion came so quickly he had to anchor her hips against him to keep her from falling as the shudders swept her body and she cried out his name. She swayed there a moment as if suspended, her leg slipping off his shoulder.
Then slowly she sank to her knees on the bed. She stared into his eyes, the light of pleasure still shining in her face. “I never realized ...”
“Neither did I.” He’d never realized that giving pleasure to a woman could be so sublime. Or that he could want a woman urgently, yet want to please her even more. Or that he could find himself so enamored of her he never wanted to let her out of his sight.
She glanced down at his erection, and her eyes went round. “What about ...”
He froze. He could end this now, and they could still have a separation. She’d found her pleasure, so she wouldn’t quibble much if he didn’t find his.
But she must have guessed his thoughts, for she murmured, “Oh, no, you don’t,” and pulled his head down to hers.
After that, he was scarcely conscious of how she ended up laid out on the bed with her thighs parted and him kneeling between them. His cock was leading him, that’s all. Next thing he knew, he was sliding into her slick, welcoming passage.
“My God, querida, you’re so warm.” Warm and tight and incredible. Was it possible to die of pleasure? Because if anybody could prompt it, it was his darling wife.
Like a natural wanton, she clamped her legs instinctively about his hips, drawing him in, sucking him down into her.
He couldn’t go slowly. Not a chance. She felt too good with her legs locked around him and her body straining to meet his thrusts.
He drove deep and hard ... he couldn’t help himself.
He wanted to be inside her so fully she could never forget him, never want to leave him. He wanted to imprint himself on her like a key pressed into the locksmith’s wax, so that only they two fit together.
“You’ve lost ... your chance ... for a separation,” he warned as he pounded into her.
“Good.” She kissed him full on the mouth to seal the agreement. Her tongue darted inside to tease him, and he sucked hard on it, wanting ... needing as much of her as he could get.
She was his. Forever. The thought made him so glad he drove to the hilt inside her and spilled his seed almost in the same instant.
“I love you,” she cried against his mouth as she found her own release again. “I love you ... I love you ... I love you ...”
I love you, too, he thought in that instant. God help me, I love you, too.
Which meant he had to tell her everything. He couldn’t let her go on imagining herself in love with him when she didn’t truly know him. She deserved to know what she’d just gotten herself into.
But not now. In the morning. Let him have this one sweet night with her.
Something tickled Felicity’s ear, dragging her up through the fog of sleep. A whisper. Someone was whispering her name in her ear. She snuggled deeper into the covers, which were tucked up under her chin. “Go away,” she grumbled.
A male voice chuckled. “You can’t sleep all day, querida.”
She opened one eye to glare at Ian, then shut it. “Why not?”
“We’re leaving for London today, remember?”
It took a second for that to sink in, but when it did, her eyes flew open. Ian sat on the edge of the bed beside her, his hand resting on her well-draped hip. He was already dressed, for pity’s sake. Of course, the room was flooded with light, which might have something to do with that.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Noon.”
“Noon? Good Lord, I slept late.”
“That’s understandable. You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
No, I didn’t. She flushed. They’d had quite an evening. If he hadn’t sired an heir last night, it wasn’t for want of trying.
A hot flood of pleasant memories made her smile coyly at him. “You didn’t get much sleep either. Perhaps you should come back to bed.”
He laughed. “In the words of the immortal Lord X, ‘Man doth not live by bed alone.’ You must get up, querida. I hope to be off by one o’clock.”
She gazed up at him, her heart beating triple-time. “Why so early?”
“Don’t you want to spend a few hours with your brothers before the ball? And you’ll need time to dress.”
A relieved sigh escaped her lips. “So you’re not ... still going to visit that solicitor about the separation.”
He glanced away. “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible. Now that we’ve consummated the marriage, we can’t pursue the matter until we make sure you’re not pregnant. By then no judge with eyes will believe we haven’t had conjugal relations, even if you don’t prove to be pregnant.”
The tinge of regret in his tone made her tip up her chin and say stoutly, “Good.”
His gaze swung back to her. “We’ll see if you feel the same later.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to talk. We should have talked about this last night before it was too late, but we were—”
“I don’t regret last night.”
The brief flicker of satisfaction in his eyes told her he didn’t either, no matter what he said.
“I only hope you can say the same after we talk. But we can do that in the carriage on the way to London.” He grabbed the edge of the covers tucked up under her chin.
“Now get out of bed and get dressed, lazybones. Or I’ll dress you myself. ”
With a taunting smile, he whisked back the covers, then froze. Apparently, he’d forgotten she hadn’t donned a nightgown last night. His gaze trailed hungrily over her naked body.
“Dress me?” she teased. “You’d never manage it.” She reached up and grabbed his cravat, then tugged him toward her.
He went willingly. “I suppose we could leave a little later,” he conceded as he lowered his head to nibble on her ear. “An hour perhaps will do no harm.”
“Or two. Or three.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat. “In the words of the immortal Lord X, passion must never be hurried.”
“You never said that.”
“I just did.” Then she muffled his laughter with her kiss.
Four hours later, they entered the St. Clair carriage.
All plans for stopping by the Taylor home had been abandoned now that they were so late, since she didn’t wish to excite her brothers by showing up for only an hour or so, then flitting off to a ball.
They weren’t expecting her until tomorrow anyway, so she and Ian would go to the St. Clair town house and dress.
Felicity sank back onto her seat, feeling warm, sated, and yes, loved. Ian had yet to say the words, but she felt his love in every caress, every look. She was sure he loved her. And one day she’d make him say the words. Just see if she didn’t.
This wouldn’t be the day, however. Judging from the grim set to his face as he took the seat across from her, he was intent upon his “talk,” and it didn’t look as if it would be pleasant for her either.
The carriage set off, and they traveled a mile or so in silence with her watching out the window and dreading the coming discussion.
Nor did the day look promising for it. The sunlight that had shone so brightly while they made love had vanished behind a blanket of sullen clouds that threatened snow. A bleak, dreary day, to be sure.
Suddenly, Ian cleared his throat. “It’s time I told you everything.”
Her heart pounded as she turned her gaze to his. “About what?” But she knew and braced herself for the worst.
“My past. All that ‘truth’ you were so intent upon getting at a week ago.”
“Why now?” It dawned on her that she feared knowing the truth almost as much as she wanted it. His telling her might change them both irrevocably.
“You deserve to know. We can still end our marriage. A divorce, if you wish. I want you to know what kind of man you’ve married before you continue in this ... illusion that you love me.”
There was such pain in his countenance, it banished her reluctance to hear him. He needed to reveal the thorn in his heart, and she could endure it. “My love for you isn’t an illusion,” she said softly. “Nothing you say will change it.”
He glanced out the window, a muscle working in his jaw. “What if I ... tell you I did something so awful it left several people’s lives in ruin?”
“If you mean that story about your seduction of your aunt—”
“The truth is worse than that—ten times worse.”
Did he imply that his uncle’s darker accusation was the truth? No, she couldn’t believe it. “I know in my heart that you’re decent and good, no matter what you tell me.”
“You think so?” He paused. “Very well. We’ll see what you think after you hear everything. You see, I didn’t seduce my aunt as Lady Brumley claimed, or even force myself on her as my uncle claimed.”
His gaze swung back to hers, wrought with grief and guilt and self-hatred. “The truth is—I killed her.”