Page 115 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I understand now why my father went mad.”
“You’ll not lose me.” She said the words with conviction even though she knew it was a promise she shouldn’t make. No one knew what the future would bring, but she had to believe that for them it held years of being together, years of knowing each other’s love.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said before grasping her hips and lowering her, filling her.
She began to rock against him, controlling the rhythm, the tempo, running her hands over his chest, across his shoulders, dipping down to take his mouth, to circle her tongue around his nipple. His groans filled the air; his growls incited her passions.
Had she truly thought she could leave him, leave this? Perhaps her father was correct. She was a wanton, sinful creature. But dear God, wantonness felt so grand, sin so rewarding, especially when shared with a man who knew his way well around a woman’s body.
A man who was hers.
Moving his hands back to her hips, he guided her movements, helping her to move faster as the tension built. The sensations danced in frenzied gratification, sweet and torturous, from her toes to the top of her head.
“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me.”
She locked her gaze onto the green. This position gave her an advantage. She controlled the tempo, the pressure, the pulsating between her thighs. She watched as he tightened his jaw, shortened his breath—
“Don’t you close your eyes,” she commanded.
“You are a witch.”
“Your witch.”
Then it was all too much. The ecstasy ripped through her, hard, fast, intense. She couldn’t hold back her scream as he pounded into her, his feral growl echoing around her. Totally spent, she collapsed on his chest, aware of his final deep thrust as he tensed below her. He clamped his arms around her, held her tightly.
“Welcome home, Lady Locksley.”
Laughing, she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest before lifting her head and looking down on him. “Welcome to love, Lord Locksley.”
Chapter27
They stayed in London until the end of the Season. No rumors about her past circulated. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Beaumont, but he kept his distance. It seemed to her that he always looked rather sad. She did hope that happiness was in his future.
It was certainly in her present. She was glad to be back at Havisham. Sitting on the terrace with the marquess, sipping her afternoon tea while he drank scotch, she didn’t know why she’d ever thought the place desolate. “I love it here,” she said on a sigh.
“It’s not for everyone,” he told her.
She looked over at him. “It’s for me, though.” And it would be for her children. Here they would know only happiness. They might climb trees but it wouldn’t be because they were afraid of receiving an unjust punishment.
She knew her husband would be returning soon. He was spending less time at the mines these days. He still went down into them—he couldn’t seem to refrain from accepting the challenge of it. But he didn’t go as often—or so he told her. She had no cause to doubt him. They were coming to know each other so very well. She’d confessed that she wasn’t afraid of horses, but had been afraid that riding one would cause her to lose the babe, so she’d created an excuse to avoid them. Locksley had promised her hours of riding after the child was born. She’d also revealed that she enjoyed wine and brandy, but again, she hadn’t believed it would be good for the child she carried.
“I look forward to a lifetime of discovering everything about you,” he’d said.
She was looking forward to the same, still occasionally pinched herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming, that life could be so marvelous and good.
“I believe I shall take a walk to visit with Linnie,” Marsden said. “Care to join me?”
“My legs could use a bit of a stretch.” As she stood up, the pain seized her. She couldn’t hold back her moan as she pressed a hand to the table as though that would lessen the impact.
“What is it, my dear?” Marsden asked, concern clearly written on his face.
Straightening, she took a deep breath as the discomfort subsided. “Oh.” Another deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth. “I’ve just been having occasional twinges since last night.”
“That was more than a twinge.”
She nodded. “It was a rather harsh one.”
