AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She surrendered to his strong clasp, trying to believe that it would be different this time, that she could give herself to him completely. And then she could accept his offer of marriage… Even if he did not love her it would be enough if she could only give him everything.
Marcus kicked the door shut behind him and made for the bed. For one giddy moment the passion swept her along, then, despite her desire for him, instinct froze her, made her limbs rigid, the breath catch in her throat. Marcus stopped and looked down at her questioningly then turned to the chaise and sat down, holding her on his lap.
He held her against his chest, stroked her hair and waited until she relaxed a little. ‘Now, what was that about?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, trying, failing, to keep her voice steady.
'Just now you wanted me to kiss you, you answered me with equal passion, yet you froze in my arms. And on the beach you were the same. Tell me what is wrong, Marissa.’
In that instant she wanted to pour out everything to him. How she loved him. how she wanted him. He had shown her it was possible for a man to give pleasure to a woman, even if that was only before the act itself. But two years with Charles had destroyed her ability to give herself, even to a man she loved, she knew that. If Marcus took her to his bed she would either freeze again or break down – and no man, however understanding, would tolerate that from his wife.
Marcus waited patiently as she struggled for the words to describe to him something so intimate she could hardly even allude to it to a female companion, never mind a man. His fingers lifted the curls at the nape of her neck and stroked the sensitive skin beneath with mesmeric slowness.
No, it was impossible. She could find no way to explain to Marcus that she could never respond to his lovemaking, that the very act was so abhorrent to her that, even loving him as she did. The words, when she finally spoke them, were true, but not the whole truth.
‘Charles… You look so like Charles it is a constant reminder.’ She struggled, failed, to say aloud the words in her head. He treated me so coldly, used me so badly, that I can never give myself to you as I crave to.
Marcus became very still, his fingers arrested on her skin. When he spoke his voice was dry. ‘I understand. You are trying to tell me that you are still in love with your husband. I am sorry that my attentions give you so much pain. I am afraid I can do nothing to alter my outward appearance, but believe me, I shall no longer trouble you.’
Marissa shivered, buried her face against the lapels of his coat. Marcus gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to kiss away her tears. Of all the damnable luck. No wonder she responded at first to his lovemaking. She had fallen into his arms seeking the husband she had lost. Well, that was a salutary lesson to his pride – he was a poor substitute for Charles, and if he had not looked so like his cousin Marissa would not have given him a second glance, let alone let him glimpse the passion that burned within her.
‘Marissa! Marissa, dear, where are you?’ There was a tap on the door and without waiting Miss Venables bustled in. ‘Have you lost that scarf? I thought I saw it – ’ She broke off, her face scarlet with embarrassment.
He loosed his hold and Marissa scrambled to her feet, blushing. ‘Jane… er, his lordship was just…’
‘Quite… That is I will go back to Nicci. Oh, dear…’
Miss Venables could be heard retreating along the landing, muttering, ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear.’
It broke the tension between them. Marcus caught Marissa’s gaze and broke out laughing. ‘Poor Miss Venables. Will she ever recover?’
‘It is no laughing matter.’ Marissa said with something between a sigh and a giggle. ‘She will think me quite beyond redemption. I will tell her that we… Oh, dear, I cannot think of anything to tell her that is not thoroughly improper.’
Marcus got to his feet, the laughter dying out of his face to be replaced with a rueful gentleness. ‘Forgive me, Marissa, I would not have embarrassed you for the world. Tell Miss Venables what you will. I promise I will stand any amount of lecturing from her on the subject of my morals.’ He smiled as he left her.
As she entered Nicci’s room, carefully avoiding Jane’s eye, Marissa thought, I do like Marcus: he is so very kind, and he does make me laugh. It had never occurred to her that she could have that sort of friendship with a man, least of all one she was in love with. Perhaps she could learn to accept that friendship and keep her other thoughts, her love for him, a secret always.
‘Marissa, you have forgotten the scarf,’ Nicci said, staring at her. ‘And what have you been doing? You are quite pink in the face and your hair is half down.’
‘Oh, is it? I thought the scarf might have dropped down behind the blanket box so I leaned over to look. I expect that made the blood rush to my face.’
Jane cleared her throat reprovingly and stared out of the window. She was clearly shocked to the core to have found them in such a compromising situation. And now Marissa had added an untruth to loose behaviour. She could expect a lecture later when they were alone.
A discreet tap at the door, answered by Nicci, revealed Jackson, a broad smile on his face. ‘Miss Nicci, Madame Diane has arrived.’
‘Diane, here in London?’ Nicci jumped up in a shower of paper patterns, her eyes sparkling. ‘But we did not look to see her for several weeks.’
‘The winds from Jamaica were good, I understand,’ Jackson said, still grinning.
‘But where is she staying? Has she opened up her London house?’ Nicci demanded. ‘She must come to dinner.’
‘You can ask her yourself, Miss Nicci, she is below in the hall. I must find his lordship. Have you seen him recently?’
Jane cleared her throat again and Marissa said, ‘No. Perhaps he is in his study, Jackson.’
She and Jane followed across the landing to where the sweep of banisters gave a view of the hall below and the lady who waited there. From above Marissa gained the impression of extreme elegance, of superbly coiffed honey-blonde hair, just visible under the brim of a hat in the very latest mode, and of a woman no longer in her first youth but with a mature beauty that was still dazzling.
Then footsteps sounded on the marble floor and the woman swung round, threw her arms wide sending furs and parasol flying across the hall and was swept up into the bear-hug of Marcus’s embrace.
