The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

She threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you.”

He eased his own arms around her back and gently hugged her to him. “You’re so skinny, Duchess.”

“I won’t be for much longer. By fall, I’ll be as round as the pumpkins over in Mr. Popplewell’s farm.”

He said nothing. His arms loosened around her.

“Marcus.”

She’d raised her face and he looked at her a moment, into those deep-blue eyes of hers, so very deep her eyes, filled with uncertainty, too much uncertainty, and oddly enough, caring. Caring for him? He supposed so. Otherwise, why should she have gone through with the marriage? A man’s honor would carry him so far, but surely there were limits. A woman’s honor? He didn’t know, but he did know her. Her honor went deep. He kissed her then, his tongue lightly stroking her lower lip. She came up on her tiptoes, fitting herself to him more tightly.

“I can’t make love with you yet, else that damned too young Doctor Raven would have apoplexy. No, Duchess, no. Ah, you taste marvelous, you know that? And you’re so bloody soft and giving. You enjoy me, don’t you?”

“There can’t be another man like you in the world, Marcus. Even that poacher Trevor or the silent and brooding Lord Chilton can’t come close to you.”

He grinned even as he continued kissing her, nipping lightly at her lower lip, slipping his tongue into her mouth, his breath warm. “Is that a compliment or a condemnation?”

“You want me, Marcus. I can feel you.”

“If you couldn’t feel me then I should go slit my wrists. I want you every time I even think about you, anytime I smell that perfume of yours, whenever I hear your skirts swishing.”

But he didn’t want the child she carried because he hated her father so very much.

She wondered in that moment if he’d wanted her to miscarry the child. No, he wouldn’t ever have wished for it consciously, not Marcus. She shook her head even as she moaned into his mouth, even as she accepted that child or no child, it was Marcus who was at the center of her life, at the center of her heart.

“By all that’s holy, I want you.” His hands swept down her back, cupping her hips, and pulling her hard against him.

“Yes,” she said against his mouth. “I’m perfectly fine.”

In the next moment, he pressed her against the wall, lifting her. “Put your legs around my waist.” She did, not understanding, but that confusion lasted just a moment, just until he’d freed himself from his trousers, pulled up her gown and widened her for himself. He came up high into her and she was ready for him, warm and soft, so very eager, and she moaned even as he filled her, even as his fingers stroked her flesh, and his tongue was deep in her mouth. He climaxed, his big body shaking, clenching as his muscles released and tightened, pushing for he knew she hadn’t yet reached her release and she knew even as she grew closer and closer that he wouldn’t ever stop until she’d gained such pleasure she’d yell with it.

She gasped when the urgent feelings began to roil through her, tensing her legs, making her want to scream, but she didn’t because she was gasping into his mouth, and he took her cries when they built and kissed her, pushing her and pushing her more until she was limp and exhausted against him. Slowly, her legs slid off his flanks. He held her close, still kissing her, stroking her, and he said, “I missed kissing your beautiful breasts.”

“And I missed kissing your belly, Marcus, though I’ve yet to do it. You always distract me. Perhaps I could kiss you even lower, do you think?”

He groaned at that, lightly slapped her buttocks, then caressed them.

“Bathe yourself, sweetheart, and then, if you’ve still the energy for it, I’ll take you riding.” He paused a moment in the adjoining doorway. “If you’d like to try that, I shouldn’t say nay.”

She gave him a very inquisitive, very absorbed look that made his belly clench in lust. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beyond Badger had spoken about. She couldn’t wait.

26

THE COLONIAL WYNDHAMS took their leave on Friday morning, mountains of luggage piled high atop the traveling chaise Trevor had procured for his family.

Aunt Wilhelmina said to the Duchess, “You look quite well again, more’s the pity.”

“What did you say, Mama?”

“My dear James, I only told the Duchess that she looked well and surely she could join us in the city.”

“Just so, ma’am,” the Duchess said. “Just so and I hope that you may fall ill of a vile verbal plague.”

“And what did you say, Duchess?” James asked, grinning behind a gloved hand at her.

“Ah, I merely hoped your mother would call upon us again someday.”

Aunt Wilhelmina stared hard at her, continuing in a lower voice, “It’s remarkable how you are able to repair yourself time after time. Surely someday there will be an end to it.”