She laughed dryly. “Indeed. This is all turning out far more practical than I thought it might.”
He wasn’t certain what to say so he simply said, “I apologize.”
“Don’t. It’s the truth even if it depressing.”
He shook his head. “The truth is that I think we shall do well together.”
“You do?” she asked, a note of hope in her voice.
“Yes.”
“Why?” she queried, genuine curiosity deepening her voice.
He hesitated. Some people discounted the importance of attraction. . . But he? He thought it significant. And it wasn’t just her body that he was attracted to. He quite liked her nature. She was the kind of lady that held an estate together while her husband went off conquering unknown lands, not that he planned to go off in such pursuits. But that’s why she’d been able to meet Trumbold’s advances with such calmness.
“I admire you,” he said softly.
“You do?”
He lowered his gaze to her lovely mouth. “I do. And. . .”
He found he could no longer deny his curiosity.
Stroking his hand gently against her cheek, he then cupped the nape of her neck.
Her breathing changed, growing shallow and quick. Signs of excitement.
He was pleased by her anticipation. He wanted a wife that desired him.
She was so strange. So different from the ladies he’d taken to bed. Yet, he found himself wanting to please her more than any other woman he’d ever known.
Studying the soft lines of her face, he felt absolutely certain of one thing, Lady Felicity didn’t want a man who’d be tentative. She’d want someone who went after what he wanted with no hesitation. No regrets.
And he wanted her.
Chapter 7
Felicity’s emotions felt pulled in such opposite directions she could barely draw breath. Her body ached for him. It was almost terrifying how much her sinew seemed to long to lean into his broad chest. Her mind had gone remarkably quiet. The earlier cries that he was not meeting her expectations died away.
So, perhaps he was far more normal than she’d first imagined. Normal was what she longed for. What she needed. Normal would protect her against scandal. Normal would ensure she wasn’t cast out and alone.
And normal was perfectly fine considering the way her lips parted in anticipation, no longer concerned with knowing him any better, before he kissed her.
She had a distinct feeling Lord Marksborough wouldn’t be normal when he kissed her.
As if he could read her thoughts, his hand slid into her hair, tilted her head back and, for one long moment, he gazed down into her eyes before he stole her mouth in a hungry kiss.
She expected it to be frenzied and wild.
Oh, it was wild! But it was slow. So very slow. His lips caressed hers with tantalizing abandon as if they had all the time in the world.
With each kiss, she grew drunk. Drunk with passion and need.
Her body swayed towards his and he pulled her into his arms, arching her back, supporting her so that he might take her mouth fully.
His tongue teased her lips. She gasped and he delved his tongue into her mouth.
It was such a shocking sensation that she could barely think as he stroked her.
After a moment, she realized with great astonishment that she was being almost entirely passive. It was something she didn’t like at all. But did he like that?
There was only one way to find out.
So, tentatively, she touched his tongue with her own.
He let out a soft growl of pleasure.
She flushed as she was certain he had liked what she’d done. So, she allowed herself to give way to instinct and allowed herself to give as well as take in their kiss. After several moments of this, his hands wandered over her back, stroking firmly.
She pressed her breasts against his chest, savoring the sensation. Of course, she knew about intimacy. With a father like hers, it was impossible to be innocent, but she had never experienced anything first hand.
It was so thrilling that she longed to throw caution to the wind. To tear her clothes. To offer herself up to him. And why not? She was already ruined!
But she couldn’t. She daren’t risk him thinking her a whore.
She couldn’t risk him decrying their marriage.
So, she pulled back.
Much to her relief, he didn’t resist but his face was dark with hunger. Hunger for her, she knew.
It was exhilarating knowing she made him feel thusly.
“I think I should go,” he said softly.
She nodded. “Yes. Probably best.”
“Let’s wed,” he said suddenly.
“I thought we’d already agreed-“
“Tonight.”
All the air rushed out of her, replaced a by an alarming excitement and sense of disbelief. “What?”
“A special license. I can get one. Let’s be wed today.”
She was no fool to mistake that his sudden wish to marry now had nothing to do with their kiss. But she wanted to marry him now as well. The sooner she had him, the sooner she could stop feeling so afraid.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell Lady Melbourne then,” he said gently. “And you and I shall be man and wife before midnight.”
With that, Lord Marksborough, Marquess of Talbot, stood, bowed, and left her absolutely breathless. And absolutely wondering what sort of man she was marrying.
***
Penelope ran the silver-backed brush through Felicity’s dark hair, in long, soothing strokes.
Felicity savored this last simple exchange with her sister as she sipped on the large glass of wine that Lady Melbourne had insisted she partake in. In fact, she’d sent up a tray of wine with glasses for a toast before she left for her rather hasty wedding.
After today, there would be no intimacies like this with her family. Or at least not often. After today, she’d live in her husband’s house, with his family. It was a bittersweet thought.
“Are you certain?” asked Penelope softly.
They sat before Felicity’s dressing table in Lady Melbourne’s townhome. The light of the summer evening poured through the windows bathing them in a golden glow. It should have been perfect. Or as near to perfect as it could be.
How did she tell her sister she was bloody terrified?
She stared at herself in the mirror then sipped again at the robust wine.
“I’m certain,” she declared with a great deal more conviction then she truly felt. “He’s a good match.”
“Yes, but what sort of man is he?” Penelope demanded.
“An honorable one,” Felicity replied easily and truthfully. “He could have fed me to the wolves, you know.”
Pen grinned. “He has that in his favor, coming to your aid and all that.”
Desperate to assure her sister and lighten her own mood, she pointed out, “He’s also very handsome.”
Pen clucked. “That isn’t a good reason for marriage.”
“Isn’t it?” teased Felicity.
“Papa is very handsome.”
It was true. Their father was an exceptionally handsome man and it had helped him through a multitude of sins. Beauty did have its uses.
Felicity took a gulp of wine, her nerves aflutter at the fast turn of events this day had taken. In truth, the whole year had been mad. “Lord Marksborough is nothing like Papa.”
Pen waved the brush and admonished, “He’s a rake.”
That was true enough. He was important enough that his reputation was made known. He was a gentleman of consequence and he was a gentleman who liked the ladies. Married ladies and widows.
“One cannot expect one’s husband to be a saint,” she said, a maxim she had to acquire if she was to survive. What else could she say? “Besides his good points make up for any bad.”
“And those good points are?” asked Pen.
“Oh, an exceptionally old title, heaps of money, and he could have left me to Lord Trumbold.”
Pen softened. “I’d like to like him. But it’s so very sudden.”
“You know as I do that there is little one can do to prepare for marriage. He might turn out to be a bounder or the best of men. We cannot be as careful as others with fathers to protect them.”