Chapter 33

Chapter

Thirty-Three

G enevieve woke up with a start when a hand pressed against her leg and weight settled beside her on the bed.

She sat up, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision. "Beckett, what…" She wiggled up to lean against the headboard and tried to focus on him in the shadowed room. "What are you doing here? You scared me."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the sound rich with relief. "I ah…there is something we need to speak about."

Fear settled in her stomach, and she clutched her abdomen. Had he done something he should not have? Had he finally found comfort in the arms of another, a notion that she had been dreading the moment he said their marriage was nothing but a duty?

"What is it?" She watched him, braced herself for the injury that would come, the blow against her heart. "Has something happened?"

He reached for the candle at the side of the bed, quickly walked to the fire, and lit it before returning, giving them light.

She could see him now; he looked ragged and tired, and a shadow of newly grown stubble darkened his handsome jaw.

Instinctively, she touched his cheek, hoping he wasn't about to break her heart.

"Your brother came to Whites this evening, demanding that I go and collect you from the Vauxhall Ball. He said it wasn't appropriate you were there alone, and others had made mention of it. I thought we agreed that you would not attend, so I was surprised to hear you were present."

She narrowed her eyes, not wishing to have another argument regarding what social events she attended, but something was wrong. Something told her Beckett wasn't himself right at this moment.

"I did ask you to accompany me, and you refused. If you wish to continue attending different social events, then yes, there will be ones I attend that you may not like."

"Genevieve, it was dangerous, and when I went to Vauxhall…"

"You attended the ball at Vauxhall? I did not see you there."

"Well, no, I could not find you either, and I panicked. I searched everywhere, returned to Mayfair, and I think I attended every social event in London this evening. I'm certain I looked like a madman, but I was frantic. I thought something had happened to you. Your friends did not know where you were, and upon returning home, about to gather the staff to start searching for you, I was informed you were in bed all along."

She should not have, but her lips twitched at his searching for her. Did this mean that he cared for her? That he wasn't so immune to affection, and dare she hope, love?

An emotion that she could no longer deny herself. She adored him. In truth, no matter how maddening he was, she had never stopped loving him, from her childhood infatuation, even during their sparring years, to their marriage.

She loved him and could not deny that truth.

"Vauxhall was of little entertainment value, and I returned home after only an hour or so of arriving there. I'm sorry I worried you so much."

He nodded but continued to look troubled. "And that is what else I wished to speak to you about."

"You do?"

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, meeting her eye. "I realized something this evening that I've been denying myself. For weeks, I've been aloof, distant, attempting to continue my life as before we were married."

"You've laid with another woman?" The thought made her want to retch.

He frowned, shaking his head. "God, no, not that. I have not had the desire to sleep with anyone other than you, and that is what I'm getting at, Genevieve."

She swallowed the tiny flicker of hope that sparked within her. Was she not alone in her feelings for the man before her? "Go on," she said, anticipation taking hold of her heart.

"You know I lost my parents when I was young, and your brother, my friend, offered me his family to guide and support me and take me in on holidays and Christmas. I'll be forever grateful to the duke and duchess." He paused, rubbing his hands down his pant legs, his fingers shaking with nerves. "But that is not why I married you, even if I stated as much."

She remained quiet, digesting his words and trying to control her beating heart. "Why did you marry me if not out of duty, Beckett?"

He watched her, his eyes burning with fear and, dare she think it, love. "Because somehow, some time since our first kiss at the masquerade, I've fallen in love with you. The thought of you marrying anyone else repulsed and drove a fear so deep in me that I could not see straight. I followed you that night with Mr. Venzellons not out of chance, but because there was no way in hell that I would allow him to marry you. Take you away from England, from your home, from me."

"Oh, Beckett…"

He wrenched from the bed and paced beside it. She followed him. "I've feared loving again after my parents died, and then tonight, when I could not find you anywhere, that fear took hold twofold, made me crazed, and I regretted everything. I regretted not telling you I loved you. That you're everything I ever wanted and did not know I needed. The thought that I could lose you too, that you were hurt, injured, come to be the victim of unsavory men, was enough to make me lose my mind."

She stared at him, unable to believe what he was saying, but so grateful he was being honest.

Finally.

"I never wanted to feel again the loss I had when my parents died. By loving you, I would open myself up to experiencing that loss again should anything happen to you. But after tonight, I realized that loving you, adoring and being with you, and giving you my heart far outweighs any fear I harbor. I would rather love you to the best of my ability than live without love or affection for the rest of my life. That is no life at all."

Without saying a word, Genevieve pulled Beckett into a tight embrace. She held him and ran her hand over his back, attempting to settle the fear that coursed through him still.

The muscles under her hands were tense, and she could feel his heart beating quickly against hers.

"I'm sorry you worried so, but truly, I'm fine. But I promise I shall not attend another event such as Vauxhall ball without you being by my side."

"I will not let you out of my sight." He half-heartedly laughed, holding her tight.

"Beckett?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yes?" He stared down at her, uncertain and vulnerable. More so than she'd ever seen him before in her life.

"I love you too."

He smirked at her words and hoisted her into his arms. "You do?"

"I never stopped, and that is the truth. I love you, too. As maddening as I find you, I cannot help myself."

He chuckled and walked them over to the bed. They collapsed onto the bedding, their legs tangling, her heart full of adoration and desire.

"I also have a confession."

"Another one? You are busy this evening." She laughed, slipping her hands over his shoulders and pulling him close. His kiss was soft, and her body yearned for release. "What is it?" she asked.

He stared down at her, their gazes locked. "I've always loved your fiery, red hair. I know I teased and hurt your feelings, but it was only because I needed to keep you at arm's length. I did not want to admit that even when we were children, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever met."

Genevieve bit her lip, her vision of him blurring with tears. "You've always loved my red hair? I do not believe it."

"Believe it," he said, kissing her again. He reached for her nightdress, and she helped him wiggle it over her hips and off her body. He kneeled, quickly stripping off his waistcoat and shirt, his breeches following close on their heels. They came together in a maddening, desperate way she'd never felt before.

He thrust into her, taking her, making her his, owning every part of her soul. She gave it up to him, to the love they had and the life they would enjoy.

"Genevieve, you're so beautiful. I love you," he whispered against her lips.

She kissed him back, locked her feet behind his back, and took him deep. Loving him both in body and soul. "I love you too."

They came together, hard and fast, the intoxicating, convulsing of their bodies in unison all that she ever wanted. So right, so perfect.

"Beckett." His name came out as a plea, a promise to be his forever.

But then, she'd always been his. She merely had to wait for him to realize that he'd always been hers, too.

"How am I ever to keep my hands off of you now? I'm a doomed rake."

She grinned, running her hands through his hair, drinking in the sight of his handsome face, her husband's beautiful charm that took her breath away. "Who said anything about keeping our hands off each other? We're married. We can do whatever we like, when and wherever we wish."

He growled, his manhood thickening again inside her. "You're very naughty, Lady Tyndall."

"You have no idea," she teased, rolling him onto his back and showing him just how naughty she could be.