Page 48 of Miss Harvey's Horribly Lovable Fiancé
He did not move.
So then. She had to repeat her words, didn’t she?
“I love you, Giles Beauchamp. I have quite desperately ever since you sparred with me in Lady Wimple’s parlor. I was enthralled, taken by you and feared you thought me simple or…at worst, wily. Most did. All my life. But you sought me out again and again for more of the same. Few friends and no man had ever searched for me merely for the enjoyment of…me.”
His features softened, even as his hand pressed to feel the heavier pounding of her heart.
She sat up, yanked at the linen shirt and tore it over her head. Then much as he had done when naked in the Crab, she let him look his fill. She took his free hand and gave him the fullness of her aching breast.
What he did not utter with words, he expressed with the reverence of his fingertips. He traced the circumference of her nipple. With a feathery touch, he drew lazy patterns over one breast and then the other. His eyes narrowed and his breathing increased.
Her eyelids drifted closed. Heat pooled in her loins and she rocked against his pelvis as he caressed her nipple. Then with a groan, he rose up, pulled her down to him and took her breast in his mouth.
Ohh, he was warm and sweet. His tongue was rough as he sucked her into him and laved her with such urgency, she melted into little pools of madness. He took her other breast and lavished such care upon it too that she swooned.
He rolled her to the bed. His hand cupping one breast, he nipped her and she yelped.
“You’re free,” she noted but so happy that she couldn’t scold him for his agility.
“You tie terrible knots,” he gruffed and worked at the buttons on her flies. “How many years have you owned these breeches?” he asked as he tugged them down her thighs and paused with them half down her calves, to yank off her boots. Then he threw them to the floor with two clunks.
She undulated on the bed, wiggling her bare toes, loving the new experience of being undressed by him. Let him see her. “Seeing what you’d get if you marry me, eh? A good idea.”
He sat on his haunches, his gaze on her eyes, her lips and traveling down to her two large breasts and exposed nakedness. “A good idea few men have the pleasure of doing before they marry. And in this case,” he crooned as he swept two huge hot hands over her ribs and down her hips to her inner thighs which he parted to let air cool her, “a worthwhile venture.”
She gulped, arms spread to her sides, counting the wooden beams in the ceiling, as he sat mute examining every element God had given her…and every one he’d not. The silence wore on her good intentions and she panicked.
“What say you, sir? Will you have me?” A question, a cry, a plea, a hope, it was each and more.
He loomed above her, two fingers to her chin. “To have and to hold from this day forward.”
Her breath caught. “In sickness and in health.”
“To love and to cherish, you are my beloved, Esme Beauchamp.”
She opened her arms and drew him to her lips. “You are my only love, Giles Beauchamp.”
“May I kiss my bride?” he asked with glee upon his handsome mouth.
“More than once, please, good sir.”
“Before I do, my sweet, you’d better roll over and let me have that license beneath your pretty arse. I want to marry you today…and that means we have no time to replace it.”
She dutifully turned to one side and heard the crinkle of the parchment as he removed it.
“You’ve pressed out all the wrinkles quite firmly, darling. Thank you.” His eyes danced.
She cuffed him.
But he caught both her hands and bent down to nip her lower lip. “We must find a vicar.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, saucy in her happiness. “Tomorrow.”
“One hour.”
“Two,” she insisted.
He clamped her so close, all the air left her lungs. “This clergyman had better live close by.”
