“An annulment.”
“The time for that has passed,” he said softly. “I can’t restore your innocence and I don’t believe you’re the kind of woman who would go to another marriage bed pretending your virtue was intact.” He saw her stiffen at the impact of his words. “Tm sorry Alix, but neither of us can put things back they way they were.”
“So what do we do now?”
“There will be no annulment, but I won’t rush you into living with me. I will give you two months to become accustomed to the idea of being my wife, the Countess of Moreham. In the meantime, I will ask your mother for permission to pay court to you. We will go riding together, and we shall dance together, and we shall go into supper at parties together. And in December we will announce our intention to wed. We can go through with another, more appropriate ceremony if you like then, with flowers and agown and”—he lifted the signet ring between her breasts— “a proper ring.”
As he toyed with her wedding band, Alix wondered how Rafe felt. He hadn’t mentioned Lady Dinsmore. Was Anne for him, like Valcour was for her, a part of the painful past that now seemed lost forever? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Because she knew that Rafe was right, the time for an annulment had passed, just as she knew she would want no other husband than the man whose hazel eyes were focused so possessively on her. She would be the Countess of Moreham.
“Very well, my lord,” she said. “I will remain in the marriage.”
It was the answer he been waiting to hear, but somehow he felt cheated.Was she happy?
He brushed his misgivings aside. He’dmakeher happy he swore, as he took her face between his hands and gently kissed her. Her lips warmed and softened beneath his kiss. The familiar heat flared between them, and in that moment, Rafe realized he’d do anything to keep her from slipping away from him again. He would draw her with his body, and then he would bind her with his heart.
He sank to his knees in front of her, his hands around her ankles. He began trailing teasing kisses around the inside of her foot and along the curve of her ankle. Alix giggled and tried to pull her foot away. He held it fast, his lips nipping at her calves and the back of her knees. He caught the hem of her nightdress and slid it up. As his hair brushed the inside of her knees and his lips and tongue traced languid trails along the soft inner flesh of her thighs, he heard her laughter change to a gasp. Alix caught his head between her hands. “Rafe, I don’t know... this seems... it can’t be right.”
“Sweetheart, it was right before and it will be again...”He flashed her a wicked grin. “Consider it a simple test of my trustworthiness.”
Alix shifted nervously as his hands slid up to her hips, pulling her firmly back down into the chair. His thumbs moved in gentle, ever-widening ovals down around her hipbones and as his tongue meandered upwards to meet them. And then his hands left her hips, his fingers parted the folds of her moistened cleft and his mouth settled on the sensitive flesh within.
“Oh God, Rafe,” Alix moaned softly, her body flushed with embarrassment and desire.
His soft chuckle vibrated against her skin, his breath hot within her. ‘Trust me again Alix,” he whispered.
Her last coherent thought was that there was nothing simple about the way he made her feel. She pressed against him, her fingers clasping the muscle of his shoulders, as he licked and teased. His mouth drew her relentlessly toward climax, waves of pleasure rippling through her and surging upward. She flung her head back against the chair, her eyes closed, her teeth gripping her lower lip, fighting to restrain the cries welling up in her throat.
Rafe lifted his head and pulled her off the chair and down onto the thick woven carpet. As he did, her nightdress caught and twisted upwards and his mouth quickly followed its path, nipping and sucking at each measure of newly exposed flesh.
Alix grasped his hair, dragging his head up, kissing him and tasting herself salty and sweet on his lips. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, pulling the linen of his shirt from the constraints of his waistband and pushing the tangled mass off his shoulders and out of the way. Her hands gloried in the remembered feel of the hair on his chest, the smooth skin tight across his ribs and the muscles of his back.
His mouth found her breasts and together they struggledto open his britches and drag them down his tapered hips. Alix felt his member fall heavily against her and she moved anxiously against him. She heard him groan, “Alix you drive me to madness,” as he positioned himself between her thighs. She opened herself to him and this time there was no pain, only pleasure. Alix wrapped her legs around his flanks, needing to feel him strong and deep within her, satisfying the yearning only he created and only he could quell.
Her hands clenched the hard curve of his buttocks, urging him on. Rafe thrust and withdrew, circled and teased, and Alix arched upwards eagerly following his movements. He tried to control the pace, to lead her slowly into climax, but she pressed against him, the heat of her desire urgent against his manhood, and he was lost. They climaxed together, their bodies seeming to fuse with the heat of their passion. Alix whispered, “Yes, yes, yes” to unasked questions:Was it good? Was it right? Did they belong together?
Afterwards they lay slick and spent like newborn birds in the scattered nest of his clothes. Rafe drew Alix close and kissed her gently, murmuring her name. They fell asleep enmeshed in each other’s arms, enjoying the first dreamless sleep either had known since they’d arrived together in London.
When Alix awokeshe saw a thin blade of sunlight cutting through the curtains and she knew that it must close to noon. Rafe had woken her just before dawn with gentle caresses, carrying her to the bed and making love to her one final time before Lady Melbourne’s staff was up and about. She stretched out her arms and pulled the pillow where his head had rested close, inhaling the lingering scent of his body. She was going to be his wife, she mused and smiled. The thought no longer seemed frightening. Asshe stroked the indentations where his body had lain, it seemed more like a challenge. She’d heard the Earl of Moreham rarely gambled and then only played to win.
Well, so did she. If he thought he’d won Alexandre Charlotte de Rabec de La Brou for his wife, then he find he would have to pay with his heart.
Alix sat up in bed, noticing as she did that her nightdress had been carefully folded at the foot of her bed. Pulling it over her head, she hopped purposely to the floor and drew back the curtains. Immediately the dark room was flooded with rich golden sunshine. It was a beautiful day, she thought, and she had lots to do.
Ginny bustled in shortly, a tray of steaming cocoa and a basket of warm bread and muffins in her hands. Putting the tray down on a table near Alix’s bed, she went first to the fire, which she stoked up until the flames crackled noisily on the hearth. She stood for a moment, admiring her handiwork, brushing her hands off on her apron. Then she began rattling about the breakfast tray. It seemed to Alix that she spent an inordinate amount of time arranging the silverware and the breadbasket.
Finally Ginny turned, offering Alix a cup of cocoa that rattled noisily in its saucer. Carefully fixing her eyes on a spot beyond the bed she said, “Would you like some porridge, mademoiselle? Because we’ve got some lovely porridge in the kitchen. I know you French folks don’t care for it, but it’s really quite good. We’ve got some kidneys, too, and some nice eggs if you’d prefer....”
Alix frowned. Ginny knew she didn’t like to begin the day with a heavy breakfast. “No, thank you, Ginny.”
“And we’ve got ham, some fine country ham, sliced lovely and thick. There’s a bit of kippers...”
Alix interrupted, afraid if she didn’t Ginny would proceed to offer her the contents of Lady Melbourne’s larder. “Really, Ginny, this breakfast is fine.” She smiled reassuringly. “Are you feeling better this morning?” The maid flushed nearly as bright as her strawberry-blond hair, and Alix understood the reason for the expansive breakfast menu.
“Ginny,” she began, “about last night.”
The maid looked up her skin surpassing strawberry and shifting to a shade Alix thought might be described as tomato. “I’m sorry, miss, if I’ve done wrong, but Jervis said…”
“I can just imagine the stories Jervis told you,” Alix said, trying her best not to think about what Rafe’s manservant had told her maid. “Jervis could probably talk his way into King George’s bedchambers if he had a mind to.”
