Page 102 of Desperate Proposals
“Quite the contrary; you play the frigid lady of the manor so exceptionally well, when we both know what a warm-blooded siren of a seductress you truly are.”
He punctuated his salacious charge by grabbing a handful of her flesh and squeezing.
“Marcus,” she gasped.
“Ah, there you are again, feigning indignance,” he purred in that deep voice as he lowered his mouth to her neck, much like he had in the drawing room earlier that evening. “But we both know that you’ll soon be begging for it.”
An involuntary moan escaped her, for it was true. Not minutes later she was begging for him, as he had said she would be. He was gentle, he was sweet, but he was also a man assured of his place in the world as well as in her bed. Evelyn fell into him with gusto, and eagerly received the pleasure he was so eager to lavish upon her. She’d gotten out of the habit of springing up from the bed when they were done, where she would hurriedly clean herself off and fix her hair; rather, as of late, she would remain tangled up with him, floating off into a warm, hazy sleep as he combed her plait out with his fingers.
On this day she’d been exceptionally tired—having yawned into the back of her hand on multiple occasions when no one was looking—and she had very nearly drifted off when he broached the subject of his leaving once more, as he ran the fingertips of one hand up and down her nude back.
“I meant what I said earlier. I know you think me flip and unserious…” He paused to chuckle softly and place a kiss upon her shoulder. “But I love you. I cannot imagine loving anyone but you, Evelyn. As… unromantic as the circumstances of our initial bond might have been, I am grateful for it. I thank God every day that you turned up on my doorstep that night.”
Her heart skipped again, but she kept her eyes shut, unsure of how to respond. For her entire life she had been bound byrules, which tightened every time her governess caught a sour look upon her face, or whenever her grandmother, the dowager baroness, deigned to speak with her. The rules had kept her safe and above reproach. They’d also kept her naïve and lonely, marooned on a remote island representing the smallest sliver of what life could be, far away from anything risky or unknown. Until the time came when duty to her family forced her to step beyond the strictures of her world and into the chaos and tumble of the one everyone else occupied.
Of his world.
He’d kept her, as he promised to when they wed. And now he loved her. Cherished her.
Never in her life had she thought she would marry. And certainly, never had she dreamed she might fall in love.
It was an impossibility for her, with her plain face and reclusive family, and Evelyn had accepted it from when she’d first begun pinning her hair up and was being passed over at dances. It had never troubled her.
How could she reconcile that girl with who she was now? A beloved wife. A lady who rode across the moorland with twigs in her hair, looking a fright, only to stand back while her husband called out her father’s butler. A woman whocriedinto her pillow for want of her love.
She did not know the answer. She did not know what was expected of her, except to be a dutiful wife. So she listened to his honeyed words, his transparent adoration, and fell asleep.
Even as she wanted to respond in kind.
The next morning she rose alongside him, and breakfasted with him as if everything were normal, save the early hour.
But it wasn’t. For she had just discovered she loved him, and he was leaving for London that day.
It was still far too early for Mrs. Hartley to be up and about. Or Selina, who had resumed her daily schedule of moping abouther room for most of the morning before finally turning up downstairs around luncheon. Leonora was no doubt awake, but the girl’s new nurse did an excellent job of keeping her confined to the nursery until the rest of the household was active.
Evelyn’s heart was in her throat as she stood at the front entrance, waiting to see him off. Murphy and the groom waited on the drive with the carriage and the team, while Gill waited at the other side of the door. She could hear the clatter of dishes as maids tidied up in the breakfast room. A sooty housemaid dropped her a hurried curtsy as she exited the drawing room, having just swept out the hearth and built a new fire.
It felt terribly public, saying goodbye like this with the staff at their work around them. Perhaps she ought to have done so the night before, or even earlier that morning, when he’d first stirred. But then he’d pulled her against his firm chest, holding her tight and safe, and she couldn’t bear to break the spell.
So now she waited, her fingers fidgeting around the handle of the small birch basket she held. Her entire body was tight and alert, and she wanted to disappear into herself. Was this fear?It did not suit, she thought with a frown.
At the sound of footsteps echoing from the hall, she straightened up and lifted her chin, doing her best to ignore the heat pricking the back of her neck.
Bray nodded to her as he passed by, carrying a large valise out the door held open by Gill. The butler did not close the door, as Marcus was following down the hall in his valet’s wake.
Everything was in its place, quite a contrast to when she’d stood on the other side of the front door of his London house that past summer. Evelyn flushed even hotter at the memory, remembering how poorly turned out she was—what must he have thought of her! She glanced nervously at the carriage waiting outside. The air was cold; she hoped he’d be warm enough on his journey.
“Chin up, it’s surely just some mundane business matter. I doubt I’ll be long.”
For once his voice, velvety as it was, did little to soothe her, for hearing it only reminded her of its impending absence. But she gathered herself, her body recalling the proper posture even as her mind reeled, and she held the basket out to him with a placid smile.
“Here—I had cook set aside a lunch for you.”
Marcus took the basket and returned the smile. “I don’t recall such a send-off last time.”
“Yes, well.” Evelyn reached up to adjust her spectacles, even as they were perfectly straight and settled firmly upon the bridge of her nose. “Now you shan’t have to rely upon the tea cart’s meager offerings.”
“No, blessedly I won’t.”
