A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

Chapter 29

Her mouth was warm and passionate, and he kissed her as he lifted her in his arms, finding it difficult to stop long enough to open the door. The passageway was in darkness, only a dull murmur of sound coming from beyond another door that led out to the front of the building. He kissed her again, before starting up the narrow, creaking stairs to the landing, and then stopped to kiss her once more.

Marissa wrapped her arms about his neck, her fingers twining in his hair. “Mmm.” She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, as if he were a delicious dessert. The soft warmth of her body shifted in his arms. He tightened his grip and moved toward his chamber, ducking his head under the lintel as he pushed open the door.

His bed was turned down, the pillows fluffed up, and a lamp burned low on a table. Valentine carried Marissa to the bed and kissed her again, before he lay her down on the mattress. She sank into it with a gasp, struggling to sit upright, but he didn’t give her time to escape.

She gave a squeak as he landed beside her and then they both went still, staring into each other’s eyes.

It struck him, as it had the first time he saw her, just how beautiful she was, with her flawless pale skin and dark hair. Her thick, dark lashes swept down over her velvet brown eyes, then lifted again, and he looked deep inside her. This was a woman who had felt alone and isolated, who’d sought to follow her own dreams, and make her own happiness, with a determination and passion and intelligence that he couldn’t help but admire.

She would make him the perfect companion. They would never grow bored with each other, and although they may well argue they would always find a way to compromise. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance he knew now he couldn’t live without her, and he wasn’t going to fight with himself any longer.

“I love you,” he said.

The corners of her full mouth lifted, and that irresistible dimple appeared. He bent and set his lips to it, and then kissed her mouth. She arched up against him, slipping her hands inside his jacket and then, as if that wasn’t enough, tugged his shirt out from his breeches and touched his skin.

He shuddered, feeling the rush of blood to his head and his groin, taking all thought of caution with it. He reached for the fastenings of her prehistoric gown, fumbling at buttons and hooks and laces. Finally he tugged it over her head and flung it to the floor. They were both panting now.

“You may as well be wearing a medieval chastity belt,” he groaned, flicking a finger over her underwear.

Marissa glanced down at herself and giggled. Then her face grew serious and she said, “I wonder if Richard de Fevre’s wife was forced to wear a chastity belt before he left for the Crusades?”

“Taking the key with him, do you mean?” he mocked.

She looked appalled. “Would he have done that, Valentine? Left her like that for years? And what if he didn’t return, what then?”

Valentine smiled. “I think the idea was to leave a spare key with a trusted friend or servant, so that his wife could be released if he was captured or killed.”

“How unfair,” Marissa retorted.

“Unfair in what way?” he asked, beginning to undo the buttons of her chemise, one by one, disclosing her pale skin and soft curves. A dark rose nipple butted his hand and his mouth watered.

“Unfair that de Fevre would force his wife to take a vow of chastity, whether she wanted to or not.”

He’d opened her chemise fully now, and was working on her stays, fingers trembling slightly in his haste to have her naked.

“Perhaps she wore it willingly, Marissa.”

Marissa looked uncertain, seeming not to notice he’d now divested her of her corset and was working on the ties of her bloomers. “I don’t think so. Women are not great believers in being uncomfortable just to prove a point. They’re practical creatures.”

That made him stop and raise his eyebrows. “Really? So you think I am a romantic dreamer with no notion of reality?”

“I think you are a little removed from the outside world, but that’s to be expected of a man who is an expert in roses.”

He sat back on his haunches and stared down at her, then he folded his arms for added effect. She blinked. He waited.

“Why have you stopped?” she said in a little voice.

“I thought you must want me to,” he retorted.

She smiled. That dimple again. His heart began to beat quickly in his chest, echoing the beat of his blood as he looked down at her charming disarray.

“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted. “I talk when I’m nervous.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Now she looked contrite, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “What can I do to make up to you, Valentine? There must be something you’d like me to do?”