Page 61 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“I did not mean it like that, but I want all of this to go away, for us to simply be together, that is all,” she replied, and he smiled.
“It will do. The Duke of Sinclair cannot possibly wish to be caught up in such a scandal. I do not care if he is my father or not. I know who my father is. But what I do care about is the reputation which is to be tarnished should all of this be revealed. Why does it matter who my father is?” he said, and there was a forceful note in his voice.
“It is all because my father has his personal ambitions. My brother, too, and they think the Earl of Westwood a better match than a mere Baron,” she said, smiling at him.
“Ah, but this mere Baron has fallen in love,” he whispered, drawing her into his embrace.
“And this mere merchant’s daughter has fallen in love, too. I do not care about titles, or wealth, or privilege. I want only you,” she replied, and with a deep sigh, she sank further into his embrace.
The room was lit by candlelight and the flicker of the fire, casting shadows over the walls. Catherine felt safe there, protected from the cruelty of her father and brother, secure in Ian’s arms. She loved him, and in that moment, that was all that mattered. Hers might not have been the ending of her two closest friends, but it was still an ending in love, one which Catherine could only rejoice in. His hand traced a line along the course of her neck, his lips pressed to hers, their passions arising.
“Shall we go to bed?” he whispered, and she smiled up at him.
“I can think of nothing I wish for more than that,” she replied, as he took her by the hand and led her from the chaise lounge.
The bed was enormous, canopied, and draped in those same oriental silks as were in the salon below. It was opulent, and Catherine sank back into it, enveloped by the soft sheets, Ian lying beside her. He turned and put his arms around her, the two of them lying for a moment in silence, enjoying the stillness of simply being together as one.
“I love you with all my heart, Catherine,” he said, and now he kissed her, their bodies entwined, as she embraced him, pulling him toward her.
“And I love you, too, with all of mine,” she replied, his hands running down her body, pulling at her dress.
She unbuttoned his breeches, exposing him to sight, and clasped at him, causing him to shudder and let out a cry of pleasure. He pulled at the shoulders of her dress, exposing her, his lips tracing a line down her neck, and soon there was nothing more to shed, their bodies as one. Catherine could feel the heat rising in her, a shiver of delight running through her body, and she kissed him on the lips, as he pressed himself to her. The tip of his sex caused her to startle, that same mix of pleasure and pain now going through her, as once more she grew used to his touch.
Now she knew just what to expect, and rather than wait for him, she pulled him closer, knowing the feeling she desired. With a gasp, he fulfilled her, and Catherine gave a cry at the sudden searing delight which rushed through her. Her passions were aroused, and she pushed him over, straddling his body, his full length now as one with her own. She gazed down at him and smiled, her hands running over his chest, and he brought his own to her hips, smiling back at her, as he moved with gently rhythm.
The feeling was ecstatic, and she bucked on him, an ever-growing sensation filling her. She wanted more, and to share in the heightening pleasure now rising in them both. His breathing was growing more erratic, his hips trusting faster, and for a moment, Catherine slowed, teasing him before allowing his passions to resume. His hands were on her breasts, then on her hips, searching out every part of her body, until with a sudden cry he gave in, and she felt the rush of his completion.
Catherine held his arms, lowering herself so she might kiss him, his arousal still over her, and in complete control, she brought herself to the pleasure she desired. This time, the intensity seemed greater, a force of passion flowing through her, causing her to cry out with a sound which must surely have echoed through the house. Breathless, she rolled over on one side, and he turned to kiss her, smiling down at her in delight of that which they had just shared.
“There can be nothing more delightful than to be with you,” he said, kissing her on the lips, and she gave a sigh and smiled back up at him.
“And that delight is mine, too,” she replied.
The candles were burning low, guttering one by one, and the coals in the fire were glowing red as Ian put his arms around her, and she closed her eyes. “We will return to London tomorrow,” he whispered, but she shook her head.
“I could remain here forever, hidden deep in the countryside with you,” she said, but he laughed.
“When all of this is over, we will go where you wish, and that will be an end to it, I promise you,” he replied, and despite all that had happened, all they had endured, Catherine was certain he was speaking the truth.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Iwould like to think I was not always a bad mother,” were the words which greeted Catherine when she appeared in the dining room the next morning.
Ian had let her sleep late, and she had ventured down as the clocks were striking the tenth hour to find Ian and his mother sitting at breakfast. “Ah, Catherine, I did not want to wake you,” he said, as she took a seat at the table.
“Good morning, dear,” Ian’s mother said, “I trust you slept well?” Catherine had not slept so well since they had left London, and it was as though Ashcourt Park had placed her under a particular spell, one in which she could find a peace she had not known in many the long months passed.
“I did, thank you. I could happily remain here forever,” she said, helping herself to a bread roll and coffee.
“Then you must stay as long as you wish. You both must,” Ian’s mother replied, but Ian shook his head.
“We will return, mother. But I must go and speak with the Duke of Sinclair. It is imperative I do so,” he said, and his mother tutted.
“We should have nothing to do with that man,” she exclaimed.
“But if I do not speak with him, then Catherine’s father and brother will reveal the truth and he will be unprepared to counter such an accusation. We need his support. The letters prove him to be my father, and with such proof, he will surely wish to silence any rumors concerning him,” Ian replied.
“But what if he claims they are merely a forgery?” Catherine asked.
