Chapter Forty-Five

Ellie's heart was pounding as she waited in one of Tess's spare rooms. It was where she always stayed when she was at Wansford House, and a few of her things lay scattered about on the dressing table and chairs.

Too excited to sit on the bed, she paced nervously between the window and the cheval mirror, and just when she thought she'd splinter apart from anticipation, Harry opened the door and stepped inside.

The distant hum of the ball far below faded away completely as she rushed into his arms. Her mouth opened under his, and he pressed her roughly against the wall, his big body the perfect combination of urgency and restraint.

Ellie bit back a gasp of delirious happiness. She kissed him back, twining her arms around his neck as her tongue tangled with his. The taste of him, so wonderfully intoxicating, made her lightheaded.

"Mine," he growled against her lips. "God, Ellie, I want you so much."

"Wait!" She pushed lightly on his shoulders. "You said as soon as we were alone, you were going to beg for my hand."

His playful growl of frustration warmed her heart, but he fell back from her and raked his hand through hair she'd already disordered with her fingers.

"Such a stickler," he groaned. "But fine. I did say that."

With jerky motions he tugged his gold signet ring from his finger, sank to his knee on the floor, and gazed up at her. "Eleanor Law—"

"Jane," she said with a smile.

"What?"

"My middle name's Jane. Do it properly."

He let out a sound of playful fury. "Right. Eleanor Jane Law, you infuriating little baggage"—he held out the ring—"will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?"

"Henry James Charles Brooke," she said with mock solemnity, repeating the names she'd seen listed on numerous documents in the past few weeks. "Yes."

She held out her hand, which was only shaking a tiny amount, and he slid the ring onto her fourth finger. She didn't get time to admire it, or to marvel at the miracle of a man like Harry wanting a girl like her. The moment it was on there, he surged to his feet and pinned her back against the wall.

"Bloody fantastic," he growled. "And now we've got the formalities out of the way, I'm going to pleasure you up against this wall until you can't think straight. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

The kiss went from soft to carnal in less than three beats of her heart. Ellie clung to him, seeking with her tongue as a burning urgency rose within her. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pushed the garment off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it, paying no heed to the expensive fabric. He flung it away and reached down to pull her skirts up her legs, gathering the fabric in huge swathes.

His hand slid up, over her silk stockings' garters, then encountered the bare flesh of her thigh, and he groaned against her mouth as he palmed her bare bottom.

"Quel vestito mi ha fatto impazzire tutta la notte."

"Meaning…?"

"This dress has been driving me mad all night."

"It was meant to," she admitted with a laughing gasp.

"Vixen! I always knew there was a devious streak hidden behind that studious veneer."

He kissed his way down the side of her neck and pressed little nibbling bites to the top curves of her breasts, which were shown to devastating effect by her bodice. Ellie threaded her fingers through his hair and held him tight, loving his passion, his fervency.

A moment later he'd unbuttoned his falls, and she wrapped her leg around his thigh, letting him settle between her own. His seeking fingers found her core, and he made a deep sound of approval at finding her already wet. She was more than ready for him.

"Ellie. Love."

He kissed her again and she tilted her hips, going up on tiptoe so their bodies could fit together. He slid inside, and the strange angle made her suck in a breath. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but when he started to withdraw, she clutched at his shoulders, determined to allow him his pleasure even if she took none herself.

She pressed her back more firmly against the wall, and he took more of her weight, lifting her off the floor and wrapping her legs around his hips, and suddenly their bodies aligned perfectly.

Ellie closed her eyes. Every rock of his hips produced a wicked, delicious friction that made her body clench around him. The same building tension she'd felt before began to grow, as he pressed and withdrew in a maddening rhythm.

His hand cupped the back of her head, tilting it back until she gazed into his extraordinary eyes.

"I love you," he breathed harshly, as if it were somehow a punishment and not a blessing, and she laughed with sheer joy.

"I love you too."

She held her breath, reaching for that ultimate prize, and then it happened. Her head tipped back, her eyes fluttered closed, and pleasure claimed her, hot and deep and sweet. She gave herself up to it with complete abandon, letting it fill her, loving the physical connection of their bodies and the merging of their souls.

Harry kissed her again, his lips hard against hers, and with one last thrust he withdrew from her body. As soon as her feet touched the ground again she reached between them, determined to help him. He was fisting his cock, and she placed her hand over his.

He slammed his free hand against the wall next to her head and buried his face in her neck, and a moment later found his own release. His guttural groan reverberated through her and she reveled in the way his big body shuddered and flexed.

For a moment they simply stood together, panting, utterly spent. And then he lifted his head and stroked his fingers over her jaw. He pressed soft kisses to her cheek, her nose, the corner of her eye, and she smiled in exhausted contentment.

He gazed deep into her eyes, and those beloved dimples creased his cheeks.

"What are you smiling about?" she demanded.

"Just remembering rule number eight."

She wrinkled her nose and tried to think, but her brain was still a nebulous mess thanks to his marvelous debauchery. He'd made good on his promise to stop her thinking straight.

"Remind me which one that is again."

"What you take, you sell. What you're given, you keep."

She raised her brows, demanding a silent explanation, and his smile widened.

"I'm going to keep you, Eleanor Law. You've given yourself to me. Freely. And I'm never going to let you go." He pressed another kiss to her lips. "Do you remember that tale I told you, the one about the thief who stole the bluestocking's heart? I didn't tell you the whole story."

"Fancy that, you omitting certain pertinent facts," she said drily, and he mock-scowled at her sarcasm.

"After the thief stole her heart," he chided, "she stole his right back, in the ultimate revenge. They kept each other's hearts forever, and never returned them."

"Sounds like they deserved each other," she said.

"Sounds like they met their perfect match."

He straightened, and they spent a moment rearranging their clothing. Ellie crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, while he bent and rescued his poor coat from the floor and shook his head in mock despair at the creases. "At least we'll keep the tailors of Cork Street and Bond Street in business."

He glanced at her. "Are you happy for me to speak to your father tomorrow?"

She nodded, her heart almost overflowing. "Yes. And then I suppose an announcement in The Times ? Unless you'd like to marry by special license, we'll have to wait for three weeks until the banns are read."

He groaned. "It will feel like a lifetime, but I'm sure we'll be able to find some time to be together like this in private. I happen to be extremely good at planning clandestine activities. Especially when I have such excellent motivation."

She chuckled. "Finally, a way to use your skills that I can approve of."

He caught her hand and kissed it, as he'd done the very first night they'd met. "I live only to please you, my love."