Page 81 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
To his surprise, she laughed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I thought perhaps you’d spotted my name by chance, but deliberately cheating . . . You have no principles whatsoever, do you?”
“Not where you’re concerned,” he said.
That answer seemed to please her. Reassured of her ability to bewitch him, she stretched beside him like a cat, her full breasts moving enticingly under the sheet.
It roused him instantly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my dear.”
“Do what?” Her gaze was full of curiosity.
“Display yourself so deliciously. Or I’m going to make love to you again.”
A coy smile tipped up her lips. “Are you really?” She slid up next to him, her hand drawing a line down his bare chest in a motion worthy of the most experienced courtesan.
He caught her hand. “I mean it, minx. Don’t tempt me. I’ll have you on your back so fast you won’t know what happened.”
“And what would be wrong with that?”
He entwined his fingers with hers. Why couldn’t he stop touching her? “It was your first time. Your body needs to rest.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I suppose Iama little sore.” She cast him a teasing glance. “Who could have known that making love would be so . . . vigorous? Or addictive?”
“You have no idea.” Already his cock was rock hard beneath the sheet. “But after we’re married, I’ll be happy to add to your store of experience.”
Her smile faltered. Pulling her hand from his, she turned over onto her side, her back to him. Not a good sign. Worse yet, her withdrawal roused an unfamiliar alarm in his chest. He thought the matter of their marriage had been settled when she let him bed her.
“Wearegetting married, sweetheart,” he said. “There’s no way around it now.” Shifting onto his side to spoon her, he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “In the morning, I’ll ride into town to secure a special license. With any luck, we can marry in a day or so.”
“A day or so!” she protested, twisting to face him. “No, Oliver, we can’t! Not so soon.”
He eyed her warily. “Why not?”
“I have to find Nathan first. He deserves to hear firsthand that I’m breaking off my engagement to him.”
Jealous anger swamped him. “But youarebreaking it off.”
“Yes, of course.” She dropped her gaze. “Now that I’m no longer chaste, it wouldn’t be fair to him to do otherwise.”
He snorted. “He’d be damned lucky to have you.” And since you’re breaking it off, I see no reason to wait. He’s the one who leftyoubehind, remember?”
Her face coloring, she snatched up her night rail and left the bed. He watched numbly as she pulled it over her head, then slid her hands beneath her hair to draw it outside the garment. The motion was unabashedly female, one he’d witnessed a hundred times, yet she made it somehow lyrical, her hair dropping to her waist like a silky, fire-tinged curtain.
The poetic thought made him roll his eyes at himself. Christ, he was losing his mind. “You’remarryingme, Maria.”
She faced him, now girded for battle. “First, I need to know what sort of marriage you mean for us to have.”
Warily, he sat up against the padded headboard. “What exactly are you asking?”
“Last night, you said that going to the brothel was ‘appallingly bad form,’ and it would never happen again. Did you mean that?”
He tensed. It was a monumental question. “I meant that I would never embarrass you in such a fashion again.”
Her eyes darkened. “In other words, your visits to the brothel would be more discreet in the future, is that it?”
“No! Yes . . . God preserve me, I don’t know.” Panic swelled in him anew. She wanted him to promise to be faithful to her. “When I said that, I wasn’t considering that we might marry.”
“So,” she said, her voice cold, “you mean for us to have a fashionable English marriage like that of your parents.”
“Certainly not,” he said sharply. “Damn it, Maria, you’re asking me something I can’t answer.” Rising from the bed, he dragged on his drawers. For the first time in his life, being naked made him feel vulnerable. “Why do you think I’ve never married? It’s because Idon’twant to have the same sort of marriage as my parents. And I don’t know if I . . . I’m not sure if I’m capable of . . .”
