A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)
‘You should not be here,’ he said, although he knew his eyes would give the lie to his words.
She rose and held out her hands to him.
‘Jacques heard today in the market that the French are coming. Is it true?’
A ragged laugh escaped him. ‘It would appear that gossip travels faster than the duke’s spies.’
‘But is it so?’
‘I fear it is.’ He took her outstretched hands and squeezed them. ‘It is time; you must leave Brussels, Mary.’
‘Not yet. I shall remain here as long as your fashionable ladies. You will not be rid of me as easily as that, my lord.’
At the sight of her smile, the soft glow in her eyes, his tiredness left him. All considerations of restraint disappeared. He swept her into his arms and kissed her before carrying her through into the adjoining bedroom.
Their coupling was as heady and overwhelming as ever. Her touch inflamed him as he covered her soft skin with kisses. He burned to bury himself deep within her, but forced himself to go slowly, determined to put her pleasure first. She moved restlessly beneath him but he refused to hurry, keeping himself under control until he had taken her to the edge of frenzy and only when she tipped over the edge did he allow himself to finish.
They lay together in the darkness, sated, complete. When the night air began to cool their skin they slipped between the bedcovers and fell asleep, waking with the dawn, still wrapped in each others’ arms.
* * *
When Mary awoke she was aware of two things. One, that it was daylight and Randall was still with her. The other, that she was not in her own bed. She was at Randall’s lodgings. She had arrived there after dark, heavily veiled. His man had recognised her and had not sent her away, although what he thought of such forward behaviour she dreaded to think. Instead she considered Randall’s reaction. He had been surprised to see her, but pleased, too. She stretched and pressed herself a little closer to his naked body. He was sleeping, snoring gently, the soft sound like the quiet growl of some sleeping beast. A tiger, mayhap, certainly something dangerous.
She slipped her leg over his thigh, revelling in the feel of skin on skin. He shifted his position and she felt him, aroused and hard against her. Such warmth
, such closeness, how would she ever live without it? How would she ever live without Randall? The soft snoring stopped. He was awake now. His arms tightened around her and she felt the rough stubble of his cheek against her skin as he sought her lips. She pushed the unwelcome thoughts away as she gave herself up to his kiss.
* * *
An hour later they were still in bed, listening to the sounds of the city coming in through the open window.
‘Thank goodness I have a veil,’ she murmured as she lay beside him, her head resting on his chest.
‘Robbins shall order a carriage to take you home.’
‘And shall I see you there this evening, my lord?’
‘Unfortunately not. The duke is insisting his officers attend the ball tonight.’ Her disappointment must have shown in her face for he hugged her, adding, ‘It is an order and I am obliged to obey it.’
‘Perhaps the duke is trying to reassure everyone that there is no need for alarm.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Will you be able to come to the Rue Haute afterwards?’
‘I do not know.’
His hesitation was brief, but it was enough. She clung to him, suddenly knowing that this would be the last time she would see him. She knew a moment of terror, or weakness, and could not stop the words from bursting out of her.
‘Oh, Randall, I wish you did not have to fight, I would give anything to have you safe away from here!’
‘I am a soldier, Mary. Fighting is what I do.’
‘Of course.’ She forced a smile, ashamed of her outburst. ‘I would not have you other than you are.’
Her bravery was rewarded with a kiss, but much as she would have liked it to go on forever she broke it off.
‘It is growing late, my lord. We must get dressed.’