Page 82 of Madcap with a Marquess
He roared into her neck, his body jerking against her, bliss slicing through him. He bucked into her, his hips losing rhythm as ripple after ripple of overwhelming feeling coursed through him.
She trembled violently, and he slumped against her side. He gently rubbed her lower back in soothing circles. He wrapped an arm around her and slowly lifted her up against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his chest rising and falling against her back, their breath harmonizing. He nuzzled her ear and pressed a soft kiss to her pulse, still racing as his hands found her wrists and untied her bounds.
His eyes burned, his nose stinging. God, she was perfect. She was too good to be true. He loved her. So fucking desperately.
“That wasn’t too much, love?” he murmured, hoping she couldn’t hear the emotion clogging his throat.
She nestled closer into his embrace. “I will admit to a modicum of shock, but shock in the best way.” She shivered, and his arms tightened reflexively around her. “It appears my body comes to life under the slap of your palm. Wherever did you learn of such things?”
He smiled against her neck, his face heating slightly. Worth every ounce of embarrassment. “I may have written to a friend for advice… He is much more skilled in this area than I.”
She snorted softly. “Rupert, believe me when I say, there is nothing lacking in your skills.”
He pressed his lips tight together to prevent himself from grinning like a fool. Yes, most definitely, he felt like the biggest man in the world.
39
Franny
Frannystaredblindlyintothe sage canopy of her four-poster bed, her mind a puddle of…nothing. What was she supposed to be doing? She glanced down at her dirt-stained shirt. Right, disrobing. Her fingers shook as she tried and failed to pop the buttons free. Fatigue had stolen all her strength, even the small buttons too much for her.
What they had just done…it had beena lot. And after an intense tennis match. She hadn’t realized how utterly draining it would be. Not just physically. To place that much trust in someone, to surrender so completely, was emotionally exhausting. Rupert had broken down his barriers and embraced himself, but she’d just done something similar. Let go of one-and-twenty years of being the only person who would fight for herself, protect herself. Let go of all instinct, unlearn survival, and replace it with trust—and doing that? It took effort. A conscious, deliberate act of surrender.
It had been liberating, shedding the weight of the ghosts she’d carried for so long.
It had been arelief, no longer needing to be the one in control.
It had been empowering, to claim control by choosing when to let it go.
Her door opened and the thud of footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and peered at her husband beneath heavy lids. Her lips tried to smile, but even that was too much effort. Mud was streaked down the side of his face, his curls even more disorderly than normal. A tremor shook through her, and in the next moment, she was in his arms.
“How are you feeling?” Concern coated his words.
Her lids hung lower, eyes barely open. “Exhausted,” she said faintly. “But in the best, most wonderful way.”
Rupert began working on her buttons. “Allow me, Franny.”
She didn’t even bother responding; just let him peel her shirt, breeches, and undergarments from her body. He wrapped her in a soft blanket and settled her in his lap in one of the armchairs by the hearth.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he murmured into her hair.
She let her head loll back against his shoulder, her eyes sinking shut. She liked the sound of that. And just like in the ruins, she gave him her trust, gave up control, and let him take care of her. Was this peaceful glow of contentment what it was like to have someone? To not be alone any longer?
He lifted her hand to his mouth and paused. She lifted one heavy lid, gaze catching on the red marks wrapping around her wrists. And then her husband pressed his lips to the marks, over and over, as if he could kiss them away.
“Do they hurt?”
She gave her head a slight shake. “No. I love them,” she whispered. “It is like…with every mark you leave on me—each one infused with passion and desire and need—it heals the ones he had left behind.”
His arm tightened to the point of discomfort. But she loved it. Him. She nestled into him, and he buried his nose in her hair. “I’m glad,” he whispered, his words thick. And then he just held her, wrapped around her. Safe. And for the first time, Franny felt like she was finally where she belonged.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but all of a sudden Rupert was prodding her. “Franny, love? The bath is ready.”
“Mmmm?” She must have dozed off.
He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Let me help you bathe quickly, and then you can sleep.”
“Fine,” she mumbled, her words slurring. “But you are doing all the work, and I’m not opening my eyes.”
