Chapter 9

Nine

C onstantine drew in a stabilizing breath, then pulled the door open and ushered Lord Gulliver in.

He strolled past with all the confidence of a rake.

She closed the door, then turned to him, offering a smile.

He returned the gesture before assessing her bedchamber. With his left eyebrow arched, he said, "It appears you have been busy."

Her cheeks warmed as she looked past him to the place before the hearth where she'd set out a tray of cheese, berries, and wine. "I thought you might enjoy a bit to eat and perhaps a glass of wine."

Constantine pressed her palm to her fluttering abdomen.

This man had a way of eliciting a response in her with a mere glance. And said glance didn't have to originate from him.

Several times today, she had caught sight of him, and on every occasion, her body reacted thusly. To say her nerves were overwrought would be an understatement.

She'd already had a glass of wine as she waited for his arrival. A mixture of fear and anxiety swam through her veins as excitement and need heated her blood and caused her pulse to speed.

Constantine had been fearful that he would back out of their arrangement. Now that he was here—in her bedchamber—she feared that she might disappoint him.

Gathering her courage, she said, "Join me," then strolled to the place where the wine and food awaited them.

When he lowered himself to join her on the carpet, she released a small sigh of relief.

"Wine?" She asked as she reached for a crystal glass.

He nodded, then watched intently as she poured him a glass.

Her face heated at the knowledge that he was watching her, and she could not keep the small tremble from her hand as she extended it to give him the wine.

"You're nervous." He said more than asked. "We needn't do anything that you don't want to."

She took a fortifying sip of her wine, then smiled. "I suppose it is merely that I do not know what to expect." She averted her gaze to the glass in her hand. "Are you pleased to relax here before the fire, or would you prefer we get into the bed? How does one play mistress?"

"Everything you do pleases me," he said as he placed his forefinger beneath her chin and guided her gaze to his. "Let us enjoy each other's company for now."

Relief and disappointment flooded her. She very much wanted to relax with him. The idea of simply spending time together before the fire comforted her, butat the same time, she wanted him in her bed.

Constantine had thought of little else, and she would be exceedingly disappointed if she did not gain the experience and memories she was after.

This could well be her only chance.

In fact, she would wager that it was her one opportunity to experience real passion, for no man had ever elicited such desire in her.

All the same, she had no wish for a bawdy or hurried experience, so she supposed it best not to rush things.

She took another sip of her wine, then nodded. "Very well, what do you wish to discuss?"

His blue eyes flashed with mischief as he said, "You are lovely when you're nervous." He slid closer to her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Did you know that your eyes change shades and vibrancy with your thoughts?"

"They do not," she protested.

"Indeed, they do." He nodded, emphatically. "They have both darkened and lightened since I entered your room. At times it appeared as though little storms were moving through them as the brown depth overtook the golden flecks. At the moment, the flecks are sparkling like the brightest stars in the heavens."

He studied her for a heartbeat before continuing. "I've seen a myriad of emotions fill them… desire, fear, joy, anxiety. I dare say, you're not at all sure of this… arrangement," he drawled.

Her heart seemed to skip several beats as he went on. Mercy! Could he genuinely tell so much merely by looking into her eyes? Was she truly so easy to read?

No one had ever said as much before, and yet, she could not deny what he'd witnessed. Not entirely, at any rate.

"I have never been more certain of anything than I am that I wish to spend the night with you."

He held a strawberry out for her to bite, then as she chewed on the plump bit of fruit, he said. "Are you equally certain that you wish to lie with me? That you want my hands on your bare skin. My lips on yours. Are you sure that you want me to ruin you?"

She nearly choked at the low timbre of his voice as he said such naughty things. She narrowed her eyes and said, "Scoundrel."

"Marry me."

She stilled, her hand holding the wineglass hovering partway between her lips and her lap. "I cannot."

"So you've said, but I fail to see why. And don't go repeating your earlier reasons. As my marchioness, none of them signify." He popped a piece of cheese into his mouth, then stared at her as he chewed.

She drew in a breath, lowering her glass. "Very well, then allow me to enlighten you further."

"As your marchioness, not only would I be required to manage your estates and host parties, which I would likely be an abysmal failure at, but I would also be required to live with you."

He arched one dark eyebrow. "And that is a problem, why?"

"I cannot abandon my father."

"Does he not wish for you to wed?"

She brought her glass back to her lips and drained the remaining wine. "Of course, he does."

Gulliver's expression turned serious. "Did he not send you to London for that very purpose?"

"He did," she sighed, "but that is beside the point."

"How so?" He pressed.

Constantine pursed her lips as she twirled her empty wineglass by the stem. "My father has no one save for me. If I marry, it must be to a man who lives nearby. I will not abandon him regardless of his wishes."

"I'm not asking you too. As my wife, you would be free to visit Carlisle whenever it pleased you to do so. I would also be happy to accompany you." He grinned. "Problem solved."

"Hardly." She shook her head with amusement as much as frustration. The man was tenacious, she'd give him that. "I would still be required to spend a great deal of time away from him."

"I'll buy a home in Cumbria. We can reside there whenever we are not in London."

It seemed she could not get him to see reason. Rather than allowing his insistence to vex her, she leaned closer, then pressed her lips to his before he could argue further.

Be bold… take what you want… hang onto the memory. The words circled through her mind until she became so lost in the kiss, she failed to think at all.

Constantine fumbled with his jacket, undoing the buttons then pushing it from his shoulders as their mouths slanted together, their tongues teasing and swirling together.

Desperation and hunger drove her as she worked to free him from his cravat.

When the length of starched silk gave way, she pressed her lips to the place where his pulse beat. "I want you," she said, her voice husky and low. "I want all of you."

Constantine reached for the tie of her dressing gown and pulled it loose, allowing the garment to fall open revealing her sheer nightdress.

She thrilled when he slipped his strong, warm hands beneath the folds to caress her. Rivulets of warmth spread through her at his touch, her nerve endings tingling.

He suckled at her earlobe and the column of her neck as his hands explored her body. He found her breast, cupping it in his hand, and kneading the globe as she moaned. "Marry me, Constantine."

"Kiss me," she sighed the words more than spoke them as she clung to him, pulling him ever closer.

Their lips met in a frantic kiss, her core pulsing as he guided her to lie down on the carpet.

She tugged at his shirt, a primal need to feel his skin pressed to hers, consuming her.

When the shirt, at last, came free of his trousers, she worked her hands beneath it and splayed her fingers over his muscular back, pushing the shirt higher as she explored.

He pushed himself up to kneel, then pulled his shirt over his head.

Arrested at the sight of his chiseled chest and muscular arms, she stared greedily, her gaze taking in every inch of him.

She slid her tongue across her lower lip, fairly salivating at the masculine sight, and reached for him.

Desperate for more, she trailed her fingers over his flesh. It was warm and hard, and the knowledge heated her to the point of frenzy.

She could not say what possessed her to do it, but in another heartbeat, she moved her hand lower to the place where his cock strained against his breeches and curved her fingers around the hard ridge.

His head lolled back as a deep guttural sound ripped from his throat.

Encouraged, she feathered her fingers up and down the length, before gently squeezing.

He pressed against her hand, encouraging her exploration.

Emboldened, she stroked the length, reveling in his reaction to her touch.

Her heart sank when he placed his hand over hers and whispered, "That's enough, you'll kill me."

Had she mistaken pain for pleasure? No, she was sure she hadn't, so what was his meaning?

"I want to pleasure you," he said, as he moved her hand, then brought his lips to hers. He kissed her deeply before moving his lips to her throat, then down… across her collarbone, over her chest to her nipples.

She moaned and arched against him as he suckled and teased, all the while slipping her nightdress lower.

She kicked free of the bothersome garment as she tangled her fingers in his thick black hair. "Make love to me, Gulliver," she urged as she let her legs fall open.

"Use my given name. Call me, Seth."

"Seth," she whispered, his name rolling off her tongue as though she were made to say it.

"Good, girl," he rasped as he trailed his fingers back and forth across her moist folds, then circled the tiny bud of her sex. "Marry me, Constantine."

She shook her head as she pressed against his hand, desperation mounting. "Please."

Seth brought his lips to her sex, and she moaned her pleasure as he licked her there, her desire threatened to overwhelm her when he sucked and licked the tiny bud.

Her need grew until she feared she'd perish from the pure bliss of it. "Please… Seth… please," she begged as he stroked and suckled and teased.

"Say you will be my wife."

Constantine bit down on her lip and shook her head. God, how she wanted to agree, but she could not. No matter how badly she wished for it, she could not marry him.

"I cannot," she forced the words out on a husky moan. "But, I want you… need you." She clutched at his hair, pressing her greedy body against him, demanding and urging him to give her relief.

He slipped his finger into her heat, and she bucked against it, her insides coiling tighter as she begged. "More… I need more."

Her eyes fell closed as she worked her sex against his palm and finger. "I need everything. Seth, please."

"Marry me," came his reply. "Agree to become my wife, and I will give you what you want. What we both crave."

"Scoundrel," she moaned.

He chuckled as he brought his mouth back to her sex. He teased, stroked, and suckled her flesh as she hung onto him.

Constantine pressed against him and ground her hips, until at last, she came apart in a great burst of pleasure, her insides quaking with relief.

He pulled her into his arms and held her as she reveled in the wondrous feeling of it all.

As her breathing returned to normal, so too did her ability to think. The rogue had tricked her. He'd tried to seduce her into marriage and robbed her from the experience she'd sought.

Rather than feel vexed as she ought to, her fool heart warmed. He'd brought her to pleasure without a care for his own needs.

When she'd given him every opportunity, invited and begged him to bed her—he'd brought her to release without ruining her. Without seeking his own pleasure.

The bloody fool.

The wonderful, caring, amazing idiot had treated her with respect and tenderness despite herself. Constantine stared at him, her heart light and a small smile playing at her lips. "Allow me to do the same for you," she said, as she slid her hand down to the fall of his trousers.

He nodded, then closed his eyes as she stroked him.