Chapter Nineteen
Agatha felt lightheaded with desire. She ached for Donal’s touch and wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her everywhere.
For someone who had always been a levelheaded and practical thinker, and who had had no trouble denying herself the sort of physical pleasure that some women found irresistible, the feelings she had when she was with Donal took her by surprise.
It felt a little as if she had lost her mind.
She had come outside to tell him about her father and that she was penniless, and instead all she wanted was for his body to possess hers.
That was what the heat in her blood and the ache in her breasts and between her thighs were telling her.
If he didn’t join with her, then she was sure she would die.
“I love you,” she heard herself say, the words spilling out. Shocked, she looked back at him, wondering at herself. Had she really just said that? Yes, he had told her he wanted to marry her, but that did not mean he was as deeply in love with her as she was with him. Did it?
But Donal was smiling, his eyes bright with affection. “I love you too, Agatha!”
Her world righted itself. Relief flooded her and she felt a brilliant burst of happiness, like fireworks exploding overhead. Her heart was pounding as she spoke the next words but she did not stop herself.
“I want to be yours,” she said. “In every way.”
Donal groaned. “I want that too,” he said, his voice gravelly. “But we can’t. Not here.”
He was being the sensible one. That made a change for Agatha.
“Please.” She gasped as his hand closed over her breast, the thin cloth of her bodice making the sensitized flesh throb even more.
He looked away and then nodded at the summer house. It was enclosed, not open to the elements, and the best thing about it was that there was a door. “If you are sure, Agatha?” he asked her. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she said eagerly. “I feel as if this is a moment I cannot ignore, because if I do, it may never happen again. You might decide you want Mary after all, or your father might refuse his permission for us to marry, or—”
He took her hands in his and they stood up together. “Agatha, believe me. None of that is going to happen. We are going to be married.”
She sighed happily. “Yes.”
“But we can wait until the vows are spoken.”
“I don’t want to wait,” she whispered. “I want you now.”
“And I want you.” He said it with such purposefulness that she believed him completely.
The door into the summer house was unlocked and Agatha was pleased to see the inside was kept clean and spider free.
There was a wicker lounge and chairs, as well as a small table.
The lounge had cushions and a coverlet for those cold days, which to Agatha’s mind looked perfect for sharing with the man she loved.
Donal must have thought the same thing because as soon as the door was closed he began to unhook the back of her dress. “If I dinna touch you soon, I will go mad,” he muttered.
She laughed breathlessly. Her dress loosened and a moment later she slipped her arms out of the sleeves, leaving her naked from the waist up. In the next instant Donal’s mouth was upon her.
Sucking and kissing, licking her flesh as she gasped and arched against him.
He reached down to cup her bottom, pulling her up against him, as he bent his head to lathe her nipples.
Pleasure rose in waves, and she squeezed her thighs together, wondering if it was possible to reach her peak from his touch on her breasts alone.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the rainstorm,” he growled. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”
Her voice broke. “So have I.”
Her answer seemed to only increase his passion, and he dropped to his knees before her.
He lifted the hem of her skirt, his hands sliding up her stocking-covered ankles and calves until he reached her bare thighs.
When he leaned forward she felt his warm breath on her naked skin, and when he pressed his mouth to that heated ache that was begging for attention, she cried out softly.
He was kissing her, open mouth kisses, and then his tongue was lapping at her.
It felt exquisite and she stumbled back, ending up sitting on the lounge.
He followed her, still kneeling, and when her legs fell open he was lavishing her with the attention of his mouth again.
Agatha’s her head fell back against the seat.
When she opened her eyes and looked up she could see there was a small glass dome instead of a ceiling and she saw the moon above her.
The golden orb looked down upon her from a blue, velvet sky and there seemed to be a smile on its face.
Pleasure roared through her, making her gasp and push against his busy mouth as her body throbbed and spasmed. She was boneless, drifting. She felt him sit down beside her and dropped her head to his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck.
“You are very good at this,” she said when she found breath.
He wrapped an arm around her. “Years of listening to Rory’s boasting.”
Agatha laughed softly. “I still want you. Do you still want me?”
He groaned. “More than anything,” he said. His face was grave in the moonlight and so handsome.
She wanted to weep with joy. She loved him. They had come together through heartbreak and found love. It was unexpected and miraculous. She had been quiet for too long.
“Agatha?” Donal said gently. “I dinna hurt you?”
She gave a laugh that was almost a sob. “No, but I think I am about to hurt you.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My father is penniless. He has lost everything. He says when he goes home he will not have a home to go to, and the sanctuary . . . my mother’s beloved sanctuary . . .” She began to weep in earnest.
Donal wrapped his arms about her. “Agatha, my poor sweety.”
“You will think I got engaged to you because you have money!” she burst out. “But I didn’t, truly I didn’t. My father wants me to marry you because you can look after me. But Donal, I do not need looking after. That is not why I want to marry you.”
She looked at him earnestly, tears still dripping off her chin.
“Aye, I know,” he agreed, and removing a handkerchief from his pocket began to mop her face. “And I dinna care if you are penniless. I still want to marry you. How can you think I wouldn’t?”
“If that is true,” she said in a muffled voice, “then I will be so happy. So very happy.”
He laughed and tipped up her chin so that he could kiss her.
For a time they were lost in the intimacy of lips and mouths, and the discovery of how much joy that intimacy gave them.
Eventually, they came to their senses. He helped her to do up her dress and straighten her skirts, but there was no hiding the glow in her cheeks.
“I’m not sure I can go back inside,” Agatha said. “Everyone will know.”
“I will take you home and send the coach back for your father and Mrs. Robinson.”
“Send a servant to tell them I have a headache. In case they think the worst like last time,” she added wryly.
It seemed only moments later that he was back, her arm tucked into his as led her discreetly around the side of the house to the street where the coach was waiting. They climbed in, and the vehicle rumbled off slowly over the cobbles.
Agatha could hear Donal shuffling uncomfortably. Of course he was uncomfortable. She may have had a lovely moment just now in the summer house, but he hadn’t. She wondered if she should help him, and then decided it would be selfish of her not to.
“Shall I sit on your lap?” she asked him innocently, at odds with her wicked smile.
He groaned, his hand cupping the front of his breeches. “Don’t tease,” he begged. “I’m hard enough as it is.”
“I’m not teasing,” she assured him.
He eyed her a moment and then seemed to make up his mind. “Come here,” he growled.
Agatha scrambled across the coach to him, arranging herself on his lap so that she was facing him.
She wanted him again, that ache was back between her thighs, and when he reached to ruck up her skirt, she quickly helped him.
His fingers began to stroke and delve into the places that made her gasp and squirm.
“You feel wonderful,” he said. “I want to be inside you.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”
She felt him hard against her thigh as he began to unbutton his satin breeches.
Reaching down eagerly, she touched that solid length of flesh, causing him to catch his breath and mutter words she did not understand as she stroked him.
Donal might even have rolled his eyes back, she wasn’t sure, she was enjoying herself too much.
This was what it was like to be with the man she loved.
To trust him completely with her body as he trusted her with his.
“Agatha,” he said hoarsely, “I canna wait.”
He lifted her, so that the head of his cock was right at her entrance.
He seemed to hesitate, but she was so aroused, so slick, that as soon as she pressed down, he was sliding inside of her.
There was a slight resistance, but it was hardly anything, and it wasn’t enough to stop her impatience to be fully penetrated by him.
Agatha clung to his shoulders, opening her mouth to his kisses as her body opened to his shaft. “I feel so full,” she said in wonder.
“You feel so tight,” he muttered. He seemed to be having trouble controlling himself, his hands gripping the flesh of her bottom one moment only to caress her soothingly the next.
He began to move inside her, at the same time brushing against her swollen and sensitized flesh so that tingles ran over her skin.
She was already recognizing the signs of that impending, wonderful release, and she pushed back, arching against him.
His mouth closed on her breast over her bodice and she gave a soft shriek.
Her body convulsed against his, and that seemed to do the trick for him too, because he gave a great groan and at the same time thrust deep inside her.