Page 35 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
“What do you mean, we’re not playing at love?”
Edna was red as beetroot. “I mean… Why, I mean to say,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Well, that we’re not engaged in a play of love buttorture. And anger. And deception. And now betrayal. This is not a comedy but a tragedy!”
Albert could not help but smile. He so adored her when she was angry. “Is that so terrible a thing?” he posited then brought a hand up to quiet her. “I need you to hear me when I say, I did not betray you. I don’t…” She tried to speak then, but he slapped against his chest and pressed on, “I do not know why that vapid, supercilious—”
“Those are some grand words.”
“—muckrake of a writer put what she did in that sheet. There was not a word of truth to it.”
“So, you have never been involved with ‘Missy with an S’?”
Albert grimaced. “All right, there was one word of truth to it. Two, if we count the fact that she called you a rose,” he added, but flattery was getting him nowhere. Edna tried to turn again, but he bound past her and stood before the door. “Edna, I swear to you. I swear toallthe Ednas—to Diamond to Blue to Miss Worthington but mainly toyou—I have not so much as entertained the thought of another woman since I met you.”
Her beautiful blue eyes widened at his profession, and they took on a look that spoke of trouble. Perhaps she had read too much into it. He had certainly worded it in a way that might allude to—
“I have not wanted to,” he corrected, and it certainly left no room for doubt.
His heart was hammering against his chest, and it reverberated all through him. He could think of nothing else but her heart, then, and he longed desperately to lower his head to her chest and listen for it. But he couldn’t. He only stood there as she glared at him. She licked her lips, and it sent him wild with desire. He wanted her. God, but he did. And now he could only think of that and of nothing else.
“It was all a lie,” Edna whispered, her doe-eyes still open-wide. Her gaze softened and fell to his mouth. “Is that what you are claiming?”
Albert nodded, but every movement made him feel like he weighed a ton—and, absurdly, like he weighed nothing at all, all at once. “It was. I can only imagine someone fed the wheel some rotten thread to come between us,” he spoke with purpose. “You do not owe me your trust, but I am…reaching for it.” He leaned in a little closer. “I am begging for it.”
Somehow, the space between them had closed as they had spoken. And Albert was powerless before her. He sunk to his knees, and his hands snaked around her waist. He held her close, his cheek pressed against her belly, and the fabric was soft against the skin of his face.
“Albert,” Edna breathed, and the word lost all meaning in her mouth. He dared to look up at her, and her face was dappled pink. Her lips were parted, rosy against the alabaster of her skin. But her eyes eclipsed all the other parts of her—for they were heavy with something akin to lust.
He ran his forehead back down midriff as he looked away, and he opened his mouth ever so slightly against the fabric of her pelisse. And then, without thinking, he parted its front, reaching up to slide the rest of it over her shoulders. It hit the floorboards with a softthump. He breathed her in, his fingers digging into her waist. And she was still unmoving, but her hands cupped either side of his head. Transfixed.
There was so little fabric between his mouth and her skin, now—the white muslin of her gown like the mirage of an ocean between them. He kissed her stomach over her dress, nipping at her skin and coercing soft whimpers from her. He needed to stop himself now before it was too late. He had sworn not to ruin her. He would not let his hunger get the better of him.
“Do you accept?” he breathed against her skin, nudging her with the bridge of his nose. The words were strangled, breathless, but he needed to hear her say she trusted him again. He couldn’t lose her.
She was swaying gently back and forth before him, but at last her hands moved down from his cheeks to his shoulders. “I do,” she replied and lowered herself before him. “I trust you.”
ChapterFifteen
Of all the things Violet was, a graceful sleeper was not one of them. Edna flipped over to lay on her side, grabbing the pillow as she went. She folded it over her head, but still, she could not drown out her godmother’s snoring. It sounded as though someone was sawing wood in the room beside them and playing the tuba all at once—but there was no one in the room next to theirs except Albert.
Albert. The name shot through her like the crack of a whip. She could hardly believe she had let him get so close to her that afternoon. To think of where his mouth had been! Why, if anyone had overheard or spied on them, their joined reputations would be in tatters. And who was he, besides, to grope her as he had? To plead with her? What was she to say? She could hardly have denied him.
“Lord Miles!” Violet cried in her sleep then continued her snoring. Then came, “The pastor is about!”
This was really too much for any goddaughter to witness. Edna shimmied closer to the edge of the bed then rolled herself out of it with as much grace as she could muster. The dark floorboards creaked underfoot, but still, Violet did not stir.
The night was unusually bright which was not helping matters at all. There must have been a full moon out. Edna reached over for her dressing gown, casting it over her chemise in one fell swoop. She needed some air, or if not some air, to walk the hallway for a moment. Anything to avoid finding out who exactly the pastor was…and what he would do if he caught them. She tiptoed to the door, turned the key, and closed it behind her, finding solace in the coolness of the corridor.
“Edna?” She let out a righteous squeal and hopped around. Albert stood just in front of his door, and he was fully clothed, dressed in the same fawn-colored jacket as earlier. “What— It is you, isn’t it?” he hissed against the dark.
She nodded then realized he probably couldn’t see. “It is,” she replied and brought her finger before her lips to signal their need for silence. “Violet is sleeping. What are you doing up? Were you out?”
Albert dipped his head, his key halfway in its lock. “I was.”
“But we saw each other off at dinner. You said you were headed straight to bed.”
Albert knocked his head against the door to his room then hissed at how loud it was. “I know. I tried to sleep but…” He waved a hand in the air.
“It’s too bright.”
