Page 27 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“I married you because I love you, Rebecca. That is why, and because … well, because I did not want Edward to have you. I could not bear the thought of it. Please, you must believe me, but it is difficult for me. I am hardly adequate as a husband. I have business interests in the colonies, and I must see to them or risk them failing. I am sorry that I seem ineffectual, it is a terrible fault of mine, and last night I did come to you,” he said, and she looked up at him through tear filled eyes.
“You did?” she asked, and he nodded.
“I heard you crying, and I feared that you were crying because you had married me and now regretted it, which it seems you do,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“I was crying because I believed you to have no love for me and to regret your own actions,” she whispered, pulling out her handkerchief and dabbing her eye.
“Then it seems we have both been mistaken,” he said, placing his hand gently upon her cheek, and brushing away a tear.
She looked up at him and smiled, her heartbeat quickening as he leaned forward to kiss her. Their lips met, his hand caressing her body down to her waist as he pulled her tightly toward him, a shiver running through her at his touch.
“I wanted you,” she whispered as their lips parted, and he smiled.
“Then you shall have me,” he said as she arched her neck, and he kissed her, his hands now fondling her breasts as she pulled the buttons of his shirt apart and let out a sigh of delight at his touch.
He pressed his body close to hers, and her hands ran across his body, pulling him to her as their passions were aroused. He had pulled back the shoulder of her dress, and she cried out in delight as his hands searched her out amidst her skirts.
This was nothing like Samantha and Catherine had suggested it would be. His touch was sending shivers of ecstasy running through her, though she winced as he pressed himself further against her. His fingers played with her, a strange and unnatural sensation as she gasped for breath.
“I did not think it would feel like this,” she shuddered, feeling him stiffen against her.
“It will feel strange at first, but let me, oh, Rebecca let me, please,” he whispered, breathless, his eyes wide with passion.
She nodded, pulling at his breeches, and exposing him, clasping his member in her hands as he pushed her back onto the desk, sending papers and ink spilling everywhere. He gasped, his eyes wide with excitement as her hand ran along the length, his breathing becoming heavier as his fingers continued to search her out.
Their lips were pressed together, his tongue searching her out as new feelings of ecstasy rose inside her. She wanted him, a force of passion rising within her, his hands pulling her toward him. She readied herself, sitting back, her skirts pulled back as he pulled himself onto her, but at that moment, there came a knocking at the study door, and Nicholas almost fell backwards as both he and Rebecca let out a startled cry.
“Rebecca, you must come. Nicholas too. There is a mean lady in the hallway demanding to speak to you. She is shouting at Mrs. Thrip, and I do not like her,” Laura called out as Rebecca hastily rearranged her skirts, and Nicholas buttoned up his breeches.
“Wait a moment, Laura,” Rebecca called out, glancing at Nicholas who was trying his best to stifle his laughter.
“She shouted at me too, Rebecca,” Laura called out, trying the door, which fortunately Nicholas had locked.
“Whoever could it be?” Rebecca said, glancing at Nicholas, who sighed.
“I am afraid I have a feeling that you are about to encounter my mother again,” he said, shaking his head.
“But she was not even at the wedding,” Rebecca replied, and Nicholas raised his eyebrows knowingly.
“And now, she will make her presence known, of that I can assure you,” he replied as the two of them finished buttoning up and opened the study door, prepared to meet the angry woman, who had so upset Laura in the hallway.
Chapter Ten
Nicholas was angry with his mother, especially given that the interruption had come at the very moment his passions with Rebecca had begun. The marriage remained unconsummated, but from the look she gave him as they followed Laura to the hallway, he knew it would not be long before it was. His passions were still aroused, the taste of her lips still fresh in his mind, the feel of her body pressed against his. He longed for her and felt a fool for shying away the night before, mistaking her tears for rejection.
He had been right to think that it was his mother who was waiting for them in the hallway, accompanied by her maidservant, Waltham, for there could surely only be one woman of his acquaintance capable of scaring a child and upsetting the servants all at once. She was dressed in a long fur coat, her gnarly fingers covered in pearls and her hair in a bouffant, a tiara perched on her forehead, ever the grand and estimable lady.
“Mother,” he said, curtly.
“So, this is where I find you hiding,” she snarled, looking around her with disdain.
“I was hardly hiding, mother. You know perfectly well where to find me,” he replied, and she scowled at him, glancing angrily at Rebecca, who merely curtsied and remained quiet.
“I did not see fit to attend. Why should I have done?” she asked, taking off her gloves and tossing them toward Mrs. Thrip, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Laura was hiding behind Rebecca, and she peeked out as Nicholas’ mother turned to gaze around her, tutting as she did so.
“Is something amiss?” Nicholas asked, growing tired of his mother’s dismissive attitude and wishing she would either explain her presence or leave.
