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Of one thing, however, he was sure. He must return to Brookwillow soon, and when he did, whatever he must do to accomplish it, Allegra was coming with him.
Hardly noting the charm of the little room or the enticing scent of jasmine, Will paced the travertine floor, anticipation, excitement and worry churning in his belly. He’d almost given up when a quick darting motion caught his eye—Allegra, moving along the screen of tall cypress trees that bordered both sides of the parterre.
As he waited for her to cross the last fifty yards, Will suddenly felt uncertain. Barrows, with his usual efficiency, had placed behind the garden bench several cushions and a thick, beautifully embroidered coverlet. The longer Will stared at them and the towels and water pitcher discreetly behind them, the more this looked like a crass, cold deflowering rather than a romantic rescue.
His attention distracted by that troubling image, Will jumped when a creak at the door announced Allegra’s arrival. His heart lit with joy as she walked in.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, taking her hand. “Did you have any difficulty—”
“No, everyone was sound asleep,” she replied quickly. “Anyway, I should have done whatever it took to get here. Will, I’ve missed you so much! I thought I must go mad if I couldn’t see you.” With that, she came into his arms.
Grateful, greedy, he held her while she clung to him. She fit so perfectly there, he thought, listening to the thud of her heart beating against his. And suddenly, his doubts and worries vanished like spray from the fountains under the hot afternoon sun.
He didn’t need to take her innocence by stealth, like a thief who filched what wasn’t rightfully his. As if he were ashamed or afraid to confess his love to the world. No, he would announce his intentions boldly to her grandfather—and Count von Strossen.
If the Austrian tried to prevent Will from marrying Allegra, Will would be delighted to deal with him. As for her grandfather’s objections, though Will would be sorry if he could not convince the duke to give them his blessing, the only consent he really needed was Allegra’s.
He’d ask for her hand and if she accepted him, the pledging of her faith would be enough. He’d wait to enjoy her passion and innocence until their wedding night, when he would take her reverently, as a bridegroom should.
That resolution removing the weight that had burdened him, the loveliness of the garden house began to steal over his senses. Holding Allegra close, he let its magic wash over him: the dappled shadows cast by the trellises, the trickling play of the fountain, the heady scent of the delicate blooms peeping out from a swirl of glossy leaves.
Allegra pulled back within the circle of his arms. “It’s lovely here, isn’t it, Will? ’Tis one of my favorite places on the estate, especially with the jasmine in bloom. How I’ve longed to share it with you!”
“The loveliest thing on this estate is now in my arms,” Will replied. Taking a deep breath, he went down on one knee before her. “Allegra, I’ve loved you since that first night at Lady Ormsby’s rout. I loved you when I proposed the first time, though with you set on wedding Lynton, I dared not admit it. Let me joyfully affirm it now! Much as I love Brookwillow, I can offer you nothing to compare with what you have here, but if you marry me, you shall have my devotion in full measure. I shall work my whole life to make sure you never regret leaving this.”
“Oh, Will,” she whispered, her face luminescent. “I love you, too, so very much. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than at your side. But…are you sure you could be faithful only to me? For I must warn you, I could not tolerate—”
“Idiot!” He chuckled as he stopped her lips with his finger. “How can you doubt that I want you and only you, for the rest of my life? But are you sure, my heart? Until recently, ’twas your cousin you’d always wanted.”
“Please,” she groaned, “don’t remind me what a fool I was. But my blindness did serve some purpose. If I had realized sooner that I loved you instead of Rob, if I had accepted your first offer, we might have been wed and at Brookwillow when Signore DiCastello arrived in England. I might never have found Grandfather and Alessandro. Being away from you gave me time to purge my mind of my youthful delusions and learn who truly holds my heart. Indeed, should I meet Rob again, I could in all sincerity wish him happy with his chosen bride.” She grinned. “With you beside me, I might even manage to be civil to Sapphira.”
So thrilled was he by her affirmation that it took him a moment to recall the one bit of London gossip he knew she’d appreciate. Chuckling, he said, “You shall not have to put civility to the test—yet. In anticipation of bringing home that bride, Lynton dispatched his late father’s widow to the family estate in Cumbria.”
“Truly?” Allegra gasped. “Poor Sapphira! I can almost feel sorry for her. Well, I shall pray that her exile leads her to revelations as wonderful as mine. Now, you were about to ask me something?” she prompted.
“Indeed I was. Will you marry me, Allegra Antinori, Duchessa di San Gregillio?”
“I will marry you gladly, Lord Tavener of Brookwillow. Now,” she added, a naughty gleam in her eye, “doesn’t that call for a kiss?”
In no hurry, for she would be his now and they would have all the time in the world—the rest of their lives—he drew her chin down and touched her mouth with his.
More, more, his rampaging senses urged, but he tried to ignore them. He could be patient. He could.
Well, perhaps a bit more, he conceded as Allegra’s tongue nudged his lips apart and slipped into his mouth.
Ah, he groaned at the pleasure of her tongue against his. Soft, sibilant, stroking. The ravening beast of need roared louder. Perspiration broke out on his brow, his palms as he tried to resist it.
Knowing he could not stand much more temptation, he drew back. But before he could imagine her intent, Allegra started unknotting his cravat.
Uttering a strangled laugh, he caught her hands. “Allegra, what are you do—?”
She put her finger against his lips to still them. The knot disposed of, she began unwinding the neckcloth. He raised his hands again to stop her, then dropped them. The neckcloth was now ruined beyond repair anyway.
He took in a shuddering breath as, tossing the neckcloth aside, she pulled open the top button of his shirt and placed her lips against the hollow of his throat.
“I’ve waited so long to do this,” she murmured.
Heart hammering, his erection so hard its confinement within his breeches approached pain, he tried to protest. But his words died in a gasp as her tongue darted out to lick the moisture accumulating in the hollow of his throat.
He gasped again as, still kissing him, her busy fingers moved to unbutton his waistcoat. “’Tis too warm for this,” she said.
Too warm indeed. He was afire with need, a controlled burning still, but all too close to exploding into raging conflagration.
Freeing him from his waistcoat, she started on the buttons of his shirt. Despite the fountain-moist air on his bare chest as she exposed more skin, the mere thought of her helping him disrobe nearly severed the few remaining fragments of his badly frayed control. This time, with trembling hands he made himself stop her.
“Don’t, Allegra,” he said urgently. “I’ve wanted you too badly for too long to resist much more. And I love you too dearly to take you for the first time here, on a garden-house floor. I want us to have a bed with fresh, flower-strewn sheets. I want to remove your wedding gown slowly, paying homage to each beautiful inch of you.”
“I’ve wanted you just as long, Will,” she countered. “And I don’t want to wait. What could be lovelier than this place, spangled with sunlight and scented by jasmine? More important, I want to make sure that beginning today and forever after, I will belong to you and you alone.”
“Because if I make you mine, you cannot be claimed by anyone else,” he said, realizing then that she must be as aware of the danger posed by the count as he was. “So you intended me to…so that we—”
“Yes, and yes,” she interrupted, smiling. “Love me now, Will. Please.”
’Twas all he needed to evaporate his few remaining good intentions. Eagerly he raised his face to her kiss. Once again, he reveled in the dance of tongues, teasing, pursuing, evading, capturing. As he languidly explored her mouth, he began undoing the fastenings of her gown.
Fingers trembling, his breathing shallow, he freed her bodice as he tossed away his shirt. He made short work of her light stays, discarding them beside his shirt. And then drew back to admire the perfection of her full, plump breasts, clearly visible beneath the fine linen chemise.
Eyes glazed, her lips kiss-swollen, she gazed back at him. “Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned forward to capture one dusky nipple.
She gasped as he used teeth and tongue, nibbling and suckling from areola to tip, dragging the wetted linen across her sensitized skin. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, holding his head to her breast.
She murmured in distress when he pulled away, then quieted as he spread the coverlet over the cool floor. The padded surface prepared, he guided her away from the bench and eased her down upon the soft embroidered cloth.
