Page 85 of Make Mine a Marquess

Lovemaking. He’d never used that intimate word for sex in the past. He’d bedded women in London and the Middle East. He wasn’t a monk, but neither was he a womanizer. Still, he’d never referred to the act as lovemaking.

But Phoebe was different. And things were complicated.

She waited for his answer. “Yes.” A simple one-word answer was all he could muster.

“Then yes,” she said. “I have thought of it. I have also thought of how little time I have left at this manor.”

He didn’t need to be reminded of this fact.

Her hands twisted together. “And I’ve thought of everything you said.”

“You mean about your future? Your happiness?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you do?”

“My future is secure. I’d be foolish not to follow through with it.”

Disappointment settled in his gut. “I see.” She would marry Willard after all.

She shook her head. “You misunderstand. When I first arrived at Landon Manor, I may have been certain, but you’ve shown me something different. I’m no longer satisfied with what was planned. I can do more with my life.”

Hope flared in his chest. “Does that mean—”

“It means my future is in my hands, and I’ve decided not to marry Lord Willard. As for this moment, I do not wish to waste a single second.” She took a step closer.

He stood still, dragging in the lovely scent of lavender until it filled his senses. Immediately he grew hot and hard. She took another step, her lips curling in a smile, and then she was in his arms.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nothing could have been more shocking than finding Landon in her bedchamber.

The musical performance had lasted forever, and she’d searched for Landon throughout the evening. Disappointment had turned to depression, and she’d claimed a headache in order to escape early.

Now, she was glad she had.

“I’ve missed this.” She melted against Landon’s chest. Her fingers slipped beneath his coat to feel his heat, his strength. The blood pounded in her veins, and she wanted to kiss him so badly she ached. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew his sudden appearance in her chambers warranted more questions, but now that she was in his arms, she couldn’t think—couldn’t do anything but feel.

Her lips met his halfway. The kiss was searing, and their tongues tangled. She clung to him, weak with need.

“Jesus,” he muttered against her lips. “I’ve craved you.”

She tugged on his coat. He removed it, along with his waistcoat, and tossed them both upon an armchair. She pulled his cravat loose, and he appeared more than happy to slip it free and add it to his discarded clothing.

“Your shirt.” He nearly tore it as he removed it from the waistband of his trousers. She didn’t want to wait another second to feel the warmth of his skin. She finally had what she wanted, and she pressed a hand to his chest, his heart hammering beneath her fingers.

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Although I don’t mind taking off items of clothing for you, I do believe it’s your turn now.”

She turned and his fingers were efficient as they removed her dress. Her corset followed, then the chemise. She turned again, this time to stand before him naked except for her white stockings and frilly garters.

Her limbs tingled in anticipation as he looked at her. “Let down your hair.”

The command was gruff. His eyes flashed hot with lust, and she had never felt more desired in her life. All modesty fled and she stood before him, a temptress. The fact that she could make a dominant male like Landon desire her so greatly aroused her even more.

Her lips curled in a knowing smile as she slowly reached up to remove the pins of her chignon. Her hair cascaded across her shoulders and down her back. His dark gaze lowered to where the golden strands brushed her nipples, and he licked his lips.

Her nipples grew pebble hard and her knees weak.