His eyes flew open, surprised and wary.
She tugged at his clothing. “I want this off.”
Doubt dimmed the desire in his eyes. “Perhaps we should—”
“Now,” she ordered, yanking up his shirt.
His lips began to turn down until she merrily murmured, “Please?”
He laughed softly and obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion. “I fear I can refuse you nothing.”
“Good,” she murmured as she bent forward. While her hand returned to his erection, her tongue circled his areola, then licked the tip of his nipple.
He groaned and squirmed, the motion increasing her desire, too. When she sucked his nipple into her mouth, it sent him over the edge. He groaned and bent forward, jerking like a landed fish as he spilled over her fingers.
Panting, he fell back against the feather bed as she withdrew her hand. “There’s linen—” he gasped.
“I know,” she said, climbing off him to fetch it. Her legs were a little shaky as she washed, then brought him a clean, damp square.
“God help me, if that’s a sin, I may not want to go to heaven,” he murmured as he washed himself. Then he looked up at her and smiled in a way that made her wishshe’d done more than pleasure him with her hand and lips. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and so seductive, she nearly climaxed from that alone.
“You’re most welcome, my lord,” she said, her body hot and yearning for more.
He stood up and tied his breeches. “Although nothing would make me happier than to linger here with you, I fear I’ve already stayed too long. It smells like rain, and while that might prevent any smoldering sparks from flaring and setting fire to what’s left of the mill, it might also destroy any evidence we might find.”
Constance was disappointed, but she couldn’t fault him for wanting to find out who’d set the fire. So she gave Merrick a wry little smile. “Go about your business, my lord, and I’ll go about mine. We’ll meet at the evening meal, and I hope you’ll share any discoveries with me, whether for good or ill.”
“I will.”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her close for one more quick kiss, then together they went down the stairs.
Although he tried to focus on what he must do next, Merrick’s heart swelled with happiness. Constance was his, of her own free will, and not because of a legal contract signed years ago when she was a child. She would be his wife, not the promised bride of the heir of Tregellas. He had given her every chance to refuse, yet she had not. Surely that was a sign from God that he was forgiven. That he was worthy of her after all, in spite of what he’d done.
BEATRICE MIGHT HAVE BEEN exhausted, but she wasn’t too tired to talk.
“I’m so glad no one was seriously hurt,” she exclaimed to Constance as they stood in the kitchen, which looked as if a small army had gone through and stripped it clean. Gaston was nodding off in the corner, and the servants seemed to be slumbering wherever they could lie down.
“What a terrible, terrible thing!” she continued. “How could it happen? I’ve heard of mills being struck by lightning, but the sky was clear last night. And of course they’re often set on fire during wars, but we’re at peace—mostly. It must have been an accident, or a drunken man going home with a torch.”
As improbable as Beatrice’s last suggestion sounded, and despite Merrick’s certainty the fire was no accident, Constance wondered if Beatrice might be right. She should tell Merrick Beatrice’s idea the next time they were alone, before they kissed and she got…distracted.
“You did very well in the kitchen,” she said to Beatrice, deciding it was better not to share Merrick’s suspicions with her loquacious cousin. “I’m most impressed, and so is Merrick.”
“Really?” Beatrice cried happily. “I did what I thought you’d do.”
“No wonder I don’t see any mistakes,” Constance replied with a smile.
“Henry said I’d make some lucky man an excellent wife,” Beatrice boasted. Then she giggled. “He nearly fell asleep before he finished his stew, right there at the table. He put his head down and if Ranulf hadn’t nudged him, all I would have heard is that I would have made some lucky man, as if I should start wearing breeches!”
Her expression changed as she looked around surreptitiously, then whispered, “I know you’re tired and it’s been a terrible night, but I was wondering if you’d had a chance to ask Merrick if I might stay in Tregellas after you’re married.”
“To be honest, Beatrice,” Constance admitted as she stifled a yawn, “I’d forgotten. I’ll do so the next time I speak with him.”
“If he isn’t pleased by the idea, you needn’t insist. Sir Jowan has invited me to Penderston. I told him that I had asked to stay here, but Kiernan was kind enough to say I could go there after the wedding instead.”
“Kiernan wants you to visit?” Constance asked, trying not to sound overly surprised—or to be overly surprised. Sir Jowan had been a friend of Lord Carrell’s for many years, if not a very close one.
Beatrice tossed her head, like a colt let loose in a large field on a spring day. “Since you don’t want him, maybe I should see if he’ll suit me.”
