Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

M unro caught only glimpses of Beatrice the rest of the day. The last time was when Lavinia and Ramsbury waved good-bye from the ducal coach. He bid his siblings and their families good-bye then followed Arthur and Dudley inside.

"Judith and Beatrice disappeared upstairs," Arthur said. "I imagine Judith will have a tray sent up for dinner. She won't feel like seeing anyone."

"Why not?" asked Dudley, who had sent his wife and children home in his coach.

Munro clapped his brother on the shoulder. "She's sad, Dudley. I imagine it's difficult to see your child leave home." He glanced at Arthur, who ran a hand over his haggard face.

"Brandy?" the viscount asked.

"Please." Munro followed his brothers into the library and took a snifter from Arthur, who raised it.

"I can't think of another trite phrase or hearty toast," he said.

"To family," Munro said.

"To family," his brothers echoed and drank.

"Speaking of family." Dudley took a seat on one of Arthur's chairs, leaning forward to run his hand over the upholstery of the nearby footstool. "What are your plans, Munro?"

"I'll be returning to the Continent. I have tickets on a packet to France tomorrow. From there, I travel back to Italy."

"Why Italy?" Dudley asked.

"It's beautiful, and it has the best food."

"I imagine he also has a woman waiting for him there," Arthur said, taking a seat across from Dudley while Munro stood near the fireplace. "Or are all those stories about brothels true?"

"I don't have a woman waiting, and the only reason I ever go into a brothel is because they have the best wine. I have no wish to die of the pox."

"If there's no woman and Italian whores aren't a temptation, why not stay in England?"

Munro shook his head.

"Your family is here, and I told you before that I could use your assistance with some of the assets tied to the title. I don't know how Papa kept up with all his investments."

"I'm here and could help," Dudley said.

Arthur took another drink and looked at Munro. "As I said, I could use your help."

"I wish I could stay, Arthur."

"If this is about what Judith said the other day, I can speak with her."

"It's about Beatrice," Munro said.

"Mrs. Barnet?" Dudley asked.

"Yes," Munro said. "She's refused my proposal, and I'd rather not have to stay here and watch as she accepts that of another man."

Arthur shook his head. "You could go to the country. You wouldn't have to see her."

"She's as much a part of this family as I am. I would have to see her, and I don't want to make things awkward. I can start over in Italy. I can make a life for myself there."

"I could come and visit," Dudley said. "I have seen several remarkable footstools on auction that originated in Italy."

"I could come and visit as well. In a few years the boys will be old enough for a Grand Tour." He looked at Dudley. "That's a tour of the sights and landmarks, not the footstools."

"I know what a Grand Tour is," Dudley said.

Munro and Arthur exchanged dubious glances. For a moment, Munro felt like he was home. How many hours had he and his brothers spent with their father in this library, talking and teasing and boasting about their futures? He would miss it.

"Thank you for ordering me back for Lavinia's wedding," he told Arthur. "I'm glad I came."

"I'm glad I ordered. I hope you don't wait until Lydia marries to return. You're always welcome."

"Thank you." Munro set his glass down. "I'll say my farewells now. I'll be gone by the time you wake in the morning."

He embraced Arthur then Dudley. "Give my regards to Susan and Mary," he said, recalling he hadn't formally taken his leave of his sisters. "I'll write to them."

And then he strolled out of the library and started up the stairs. The sconces in the corridor flickered, and with the clouds and the rain, it felt more like the middle of the night than late afternoon. With a sigh, he opened the door to his chamber. The room was cold, and he saw the cause immediately—the fire had been banked. The drapes had been pulled closed, and he would have to stumble about in the dark to locate the bell pull and call for a servant to stoke the fire. He moved forward, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he froze.

Someone else was in the room. He'd heard a sound—a creak or a rustle of sheets.

His gaze went to the bed, and he saw her. It was definitely a woman—a naked woman if the glow of the fire didn't deceive him. She wore a mask typically suited for a masquerade ball and nothing else. She lounged on his pillows, extended a hand, and beckoned him to come to her.

Munro's feet moved before he could think. He started forward, thinking more with his cock than his head. He had no idea who this woman was, but she was exquisite. Even in the dim light, he could see she had generous breasts, rounded hips, and long legs. He could crawl into bed with her and forget…

Beatrice.

Munro stopped his advance just short of the bed. Even now, even in the heat of this moment, he couldn't forget her. If he touched this woman, he'd be imagining touching Beatrice. The pain of losing her lanced through him, and he took a step back.

"How did you get into my chamber?" he asked.

She shrugged and beckoned him forward again. But Munro took another step back. "You should go."

For a moment, he wondered what the devil had gotten into him. He would never have sent a naked, willing woman from his chamber. But he didn't want her. He wanted Beatrice, and if he couldn't have her, he wouldn't pretend someone else was her just to stave off the pain. He'd force himself to feel it this time. It was the only way to ever really move past his loss of her. If he could move past that loss.

The woman rose on her knees and gave him a pout then beckoned him forward again. Munro's breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to thud in his chest. A small flicker of hope flared. He'd asked how this woman came to be in his chamber, but he didn't have to think very hard.

Beatrice had let her in. Beatrice had given him another test.

And that meant she still wanted him. If she was still giving him tests, then she still hoped he might pass them and claim his prizes. And the prize for passing this test was a night with her.

"I said, get out." Munro pointed to the door. "Where are your clothes? You may dress and then you need to go."

She sank back on her heels and then climbed off the bed. Munro glanced about for her clothing but couldn't see the garments in the dim light. When he looked back at the woman, she had reached up to untie her mask. Slowly, she removed it and tossed it aside.

"Beatrice?" Munro gaped as an ember from the fire sparked brightly and illuminated her face.

"Once again, you foiled my plans," she said, aware her voice was raspy and low. "I really did not think you could resist a willing, naked woman in your bed."

"I—you—I need to sit down."

She moved aside. "The bed is right here."

"You need to put something on. I can't concentrate with you standing there like that. I'm torn between covering my eyes and reaching for the tinder box so I might light a lamp."

"Light the lamp if you want. I'm yours for the rest of the night."

He groped for the bed and sat down hard. "I'm sorry. I thought you said you were mine for the night."

"That was the agreement, wasn't it? If you passed the fourth test, you could take me to bed."

He still didn't move, so she moved to the low fire and took up the poker, stirring the fire to life. Then she extracted a spill from the holder and lit the stick. Behind her, she heard Munro groan.

"That's better," she said as she moved back to the lamp, one hand protecting the flame. "I was cold."

"Then you could put clothing on."

She lit the lamp. "You don't really want me to do that, do you?"

"No. But I don't trust myself with you walking around like…that."

"You don't have to trust yourself. I'm trying to tempt you." She carried the lamp to the bedside table and set it down, then stood before Munro. "I want you to take me to your bed."

He stared at her, still uncomprehending. Poor man. All the blood had probably rushed to his…lower regions. His gaze was on her eyes, but she saw the struggle it took for him to keep it there. "You can look down," she said. "At my body."

"Is this part of the test?"

She laughed. "No. You passed the test. Truth be told, I wouldn't have minded all that much if you hadn't because we'd be tangled up together on the bed right now. You see, either way this temptation progressed, I couldn't lose."

"And now we both win," he said. His gaze dipped, and she felt the rush of heat she was accustomed to feeling every time he looked at her. But now there was no cloth between them—well, except for his clothing. She was completely revealed.

She put a hand on his knees, slid them open, and stepped between them. Then she rested her hands on his shoulders. "Any ideas as to how we should fill the rest of the hours in the day…and night?"

His large, warm hand came to rest on her hip, and she took a shaky breath.

"I have a few," he said. "I still can't quite believe you're here."

"Shall I pinch you?"

"I can think of a better idea." He tugged her close and wrapped a hand about her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. She expected the kiss to be wild and unfettered, but it was gentle and sweet. A lump formed in her throat, and she had to blink back tears. Why had she thought lying with him wouldn't mean anything? Why had she thought it would be fast and frantic, and then she could forget all about it?

"You don't have to hold back," she whispered, knowing her words were for naught, knowing she was completely undone already by a simple kiss.

"I'm in no hurry," he murmured, the hand on her hip sliding down to cup her bottom. "I plan to savor every inch of you."

That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. She could still walk away. He wouldn't hold her to their agreement if she said she'd changed her mind. As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts, he pulled back. "Are you certain you want this? If you've reconsidered—"

She put a finger over his lips. Sweet, sweet man. This was why she'd fallen in love with him. This was the side of him no one else saw. He needed to feel wanted, needed to feel loved. And for so long he'd loved her without anything in return.

"I want this," she said, kissing him softly. "I want you , Munro Notley."

In the next instant, she was on her back, the mattress under her and Munro looking down at her. "You are so beautiful. Your eyes…" He kissed each eyelid when she closed them. "Your nose."

"My nose?"

He ignored her and kissed the tip. "Your cheeks." He brushed his lips over her cheeks softly. She looked up at him. He kissed her forehead.

"You're forgetting something."

"What's that?"

"My mouth."

"I'd never forget your mouth. I dream about your mouth."

"Then kiss me."

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss felt almost reverent at first. She could imagine herself a new bride, and he a bridegroom who didn't want to frighten her. His hands slid slowly down her body, his touch lighting little fires wherever his fingertips strayed. Gradually, he deepened the kiss, and his touch became more insistent. She gasped at the gentle squeeze of his hand at her breast and shivered as he slid down her body to cup her between her legs.

"You're ready for me," he whispered.

"I was ready as soon as you stepped into the room. Why are you still dressed?"

"Patience, sweetheart." His mouth traced her jaw and dipped down to her neck while his fingers stroked her. She arched for him, biting her lip as he slid over the sensitive nub between her legs. His mouth slid lower, and he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat as one finger entered her. She clenched around him, and he chuckled. His breath tickled her skin, making her breath come even shorter. Then another finger slid inside her, and she moaned as he used his thumb against that place that throbbed and ached for his touch.

The bed chamber slid away, and her focus narrowed. In those moments, there was only him and only her. His touch existed and nothing else. His mouth on her caused her heart to beat. His hands made her blood race. She panted, trying to catch her breath as his lips found her nipple and tugged lightly. Between her legs, his thumb made lazy circles that drove her mad.

"Munro, yes."

"I love when you say my name."

She opened her eyes and found him looking down at her. "You're ravishing, Beatrice. You take my breath away."

"Please," she begged, and he gave her a knowing smile. He was the beautiful one. He was the one no woman could resist. And when he looked at her like that, she fell completely under his spell. He adjusted his touch and the pressure, his thumb moving in quick circles on her aching flesh. Her breath hitched and caught.

"That's it, sweetheart."

Her gaze found his right as the climax poured through her. She felt as though she'd been an empty vessel who was being filled with pleasure. She groaned as the sensations flowed through her body, out into her limbs, all the way to the tips of her toes. She had clenched tightly around his fingers, squeezing every inch of sensation out of the orgasm, but it still wasn't enough. She wanted him inside her.

Finally, she lay sated and spent. His hand was warm on her belly as he lay on his side and studied her face.

"That was exquisite," she finally managed. "Again."

"I have much more in mind."

"Good." She closed her eyes and saw the image of him above her, the love in his eyes as he looked down at her, pleasured her. Somehow, despite what she had put him through, he still loved her. And somehow it didn't matter so much anymore that he had the reputation of a rake or had once been a rake. Her fears had never been about that. She'd been so afraid of loving another man who only wanted the challenge of winning her and would toss her aside once the chase was over.

But she'd been wrong, so very wrong, to see Munro that way. He'd proved, time and again, that he loved her. He'd pleasured her twice and asked nothing in return, seemingly content to enjoy her fulfillment.

He said he had more in mind, and so did she. She wanted to show him just how much he meant to her as well.

She sat, turned to him, and pushed him down. "What's this?" he asked.

"My turn."