Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

For once in her life, Evangeline was speechless.

The Duke of Vale had done all of this for her .

"Did you know about this?" she whispered to Viola and her friends, who had joined her in the salon reserved for all manner of pens, holding the animals she had rescued. Nearly all of them had been claimed. Not the rats, of course, or the fox kit and owl. Thanks to Hannah, they had already been released back into the wild where they belonged.

"Of course we knew," Laila said. "It was a surprise."

She breathed out. "He's…"

"Senselessly infatuated with you," Vesper supplied with a crafty look. "After all, what gentleman would go through all this trouble just to convince a woman of his devotion?" She answered her own question. "A besotted one, that's what."

"He loves me," she whispered.

Viola rolled her eyes. "You know, for an allegedly older and wiser sister, you're quite dense. Do you love him ?"

"I suppose I do."

The little imp let out an exasperated sound. "Then why are you in here talking to us?"

She glanced at the others. "What she said," they cried in unison.

Laila grinned. "Go before Briar gets it in her head to lure you into one of the upper rooms with secret notes or some such. Her last story hinged on a snowed-in cottage with a single bed."

"Trust me, it works!" Briar enthused. "One bed, two lonely, horny souls."

"Briar!" Evangeline exclaimed, glancing around to see if her irreverent friend had been overheard.

"Maybe you and Lushing should find out," Nève said slyly to Briar.

"Bite your tongue, you wench! Should I ever end up in such a situation with that miscreant, no offense, Vesper, I will sleep on the filthy floor. On the windowsill if I have to."

Vesper's eyebrows rose. "No offense taken, but I think thou dost protest too much."

Evangeline chuckled at her friends. They were truly the best.

Just one bed sounded rather good at the moment, though she was nervous. She had little reason to be, yet still she felt on edge.

"Why are you still here?" her sister demanded, making her jump.

"Yes, well, I'm contemplating my approach."

A snort. "You think too much." Viola giggled. "Just tell him you want to take a turn in Cock Lane. Or perhaps that you miss his co—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, or so help me!"

Heat flooding her face, Evangeline walked away from her sister and the ensuing cackles of her devious friends. She changed her mind. They were the worst.

But perhaps her sister was right. She was thinking too much. Sometimes, courage took action, rather than thoughts or words. And she and Vale had always been quite good at nonverbal communication. Knowing the duke's eyes were on her, she strolled the perimeter of the ballroom, taking in all the work he had done. It really was remarkable. Most of it he'd accomplished on his own, she knew, with his bare hands.

His strong, beautiful, talented hands.

Crossing the hallway, she went out onto the terrace that looked over the duke's landscaped gardens. He'd made changes here, too, most of the overgrowth neatly trimmed and pruned. A few guests had come outside for fresh air, but not many. Evangeline relished the soft breeze that cooled her hot cheeks, and waited. She knew he'd find her eventually.

"Running away?" a deep voice inquired, and goose bumps broke over her skin.

"I do not run, Your Grace," she replied and turned to face him.

"No, you face everything like a queen."

She swallowed. "Not everything."

God, he was so big and unbearably handsome. And that dress kilt! It did things to her, the red of the tartan catching the bright copper notes in his hair. A sporran hung low on his hips, the flash of his bare knees visible over the folded stockings. Her mouth dried at the bronze hair dusting his skin there, making her think of the hair that covered him elsewhere. His thighs, his chest, his… She gulped and corralled her wayward, deliciously filthy thoughts.

He was quick to pounce. "What were you thinking just then?"

"That kilt is indecent," she blurted.

A wicked grin split his face, lighting those green eyes from the inside out. He let out a measured breath and moved ever so slowly, watching to see if she would make any effort to escape. Evangeline held her ground. The distance between them closed to a sliver, and her breath caught. "If you think that's bad, you should see what's under it."

She bit back a snort. "Let me guess. You're smuggling cabers again?"

"Dare to find out?"

It was the question he'd asked her during their first time together, when she'd put on a sensual show for him, and she grinned. Her blood warmed at the challenge, and before she could change her mind, she reached under and found herself with a handful of hard, plump ducal arse. Her face flamed, but the duke just laughed. "Caber's on the other side, leannan."

"You are insufferable!" she said, though she warmed at the endearment.

"Ah, but what will all those people say when they see the guest of honor with her hand up a Scot's kilt?"

She drew her hand back as if it were on fire, but he only laughed again. No one was paying them any mind. "They'll say, ‘There's that penniless Scottish duke, snatching up our innocent English maidens and leading them astray.'"

"Innocent?" He held a hand up to shade his brow as if peering into the distance. "Where? I must corrupt her forthwith!"

Evangeline couldn't help it, she started giggling interspersed with snicker-snorts.

"I've missed those," he said. His fingers moved to caress her jaw, and she leaned into the tender touch. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too," she whispered. There was no overthinking this. She wanted him. She wanted him without any rules or agreements. Evangeline turned her cheek to brush his knuckles with her mouth and met his stare head-on. "Kiss me, Gage."

He didn't hesitate. He swept her into his arms and took her lips in the sweetest, softest kiss, which she felt from her crown to the tips of her toes. It was unhurried, as if he wanted to take his time to savor her in the moment no matter the cost. And yet, she felt his need simmering beneath the surface, palpable in the hands that wound into her hair and kneaded her hip. His tongue teased hers, pliant but demanding, delving deep in imitation of what they both craved.

"I can't get enough of you," he muttered against her lips.

A moan escaped her as his mouth slid down the column of her throat in wet nudges and nibbles, pleasure arcing through her when one palm covered her aching breast and pinched gently. Hissing softly at the exquisite pressure, she rolled her pelvis into his, nearly groaning when she felt the hot brand of him against her abdomen. She wanted to be bare beneath him. For the first time in her life, she wanted to be loved .

"Gage?"

"Yes, mo chridhe." His voice was husky, filled with raw need as he licked across her collarbone.

She blinked out of her impassioned daze. "What does that mean?"

"My heart." His lips grazed over the swell of her left breast as he said it, resting his cheek there for a second as though treasuring her heartbeat. Dear God, if it were possible to melt, she would be nothing but a puddle on the floor at his feet.

"Please tell me you have since furnished your bedchamber," she whispered.

He broke from her body, lips swollen and eyes dilated with passion. "Alas, I still only have one bed."

Evangeline had never heard sweeter, more sinful words in her life.

Only. One. Bed.

Grinning, she bit her lip and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That'll do nicely."

Upstairs in his chamber—how they'd managed to remain unseen, he would never know—Gage pulled her into his arms. She was here at last. They had abandoned their guests below. No doubt, some of them would guess what they were up to, but Gage was beyond caring what the ton thought about him.

"I don't think I realized last time I was in here how big your bed is," Evangeline said throatily when he closed the door behind them.

"I'm a big man."

Crimson crested her already rosy cheeks, eyes darkening at the innuendo. He loved that he could make her react so splendidly to him, and he especially loved that she didn't hide it.

She shot him a coquettish look over her shoulder. "Shall I hold the bedpost again, Your Grace?"

"No," he said. "This is going to be hard and fast. I'll take my time with you later, I promise, but right now, I'm not going to last. I need to be inside you." Air hissed through her teeth at the raw hunger of his words. A dark shudder ran through her as he approached, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. "On the bed, on your hands and knees, Evangeline."

Without argument, she complied. "Like so?"

"Yes." He took hold of himself beneath his kilt, nearly growling at the exquisite sensitivity of his shaft. "Now lift your skirts and show me that lovely arse of yours."

She trembled again at his command, then shifted to flip her skirts and petticoats to her waist. Fuck his life if she wasn't wearing a stitch beneath her dress, and the sultry look she shot him over her shoulder nearly drove him to his knees.

"Surprise," she purred.

Surprise, indeed. He'd never seen a more gorgeous spectacle in his life, her pretty sex exposed and glistening with excitement. He fisted his cock with some intensity, forcing back his spiking arousal. If he wasn't careful, this was going to be too hard and too fast. He bit back a groaned laugh at his own weakness where she was concerned.

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. "Did you plan this, my lady?"

"A lady always comes prepared."

Gage went still. "Prepared?"

Evangeline bit her lip, cheeks red as she flipped to a sitting position. "I'm not ashamed to admit I was ready to do anything to get your attention. I had an audacious plan to get you alone and have my wicked way with you." She smiled. "Your plan was much better. Seduction through my passions."

He approached the bed, desire choking him. "Trust me, leannan, I've no complaints about your plan whatsoever." He paused at the edge. "So you wanted me back?"

"I'd already forgiven you," she said. "But I needed to figure out whether I could trust you again."

"And can you?" he asked quietly, not moving an inch. This moment—her answer—was worth more than anything between them.

"I'd rather try than not know," she whispered. "Just please don't lie to me again."

He planted one palm flat on the bed and cupped her jaw with the other, wiping away the single tear that had slid down the curve of her cheek with his thumb and reviling the fact that he was the cause of her hurt. "I won't, I swear it."

He kissed her then, slowly, softly, letting his vow sink in. He would prove to her every day that he was worthy of that promise… with his words, with his actions, with his love . The embrace turned ardent as she nipped at his lips, her tongue dancing hungrily with his, until they were both panting.

She clutched at him, tearing at his kilt, and twisting back to her hands and knees. "Gage, now! I need you."

"I'm yours," he growled, running his palm over her hip and making her spine arch with want. He arranged himself at her entrance.

And then he impaled her in one slick thrust.

They both moaned at the sublime, impossibly snug fit. Fuck, this woman was made for him. The pulsating, hot clasp of her nearly made him see stars, and he hadn't even done anything but enter the harbor of her body. He could stay there forever quite happily.

Drowning in pleasure, he eased out slowly, eyes rolling back in his head at the exquisite drag, making sure that the soft sounds she made weren't ones of discomfort. They were both highly aroused, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her. He was too big not to take care.

Don't spend. Don't spend. Don't spend. It was a litany in his head.

"Gage…" His name was a pleading whimper.

Did she want him to stop or to keep going? He wanted to please her so badly, to make this so good for her that she would never leave again, but every roll, every gasp, and every needy pulse undermined his intention. Her walls quivered around him in answer, but he needed her words. "Evangeline?" he gritted out.

"Move," she growled, and shoved back against him, prodding him into action. "I need you to move."

He grinned. There she was. Demanding, vocal little thing. The truth was he would not have it any other way. He would never want her to change, not for him and not for anyone, and certainly not between them in private. He liked her wild and untamed. His fairy queen knelt for no one in the real world, and yet, here she was, kneeling for him. Willingly.

"As you wish, my love." He thrust back in.

"Say the last part in Gaelic," she gasped.

"Mo ghràdh."

She began to quake, more as he whispered it again, folding his big body over hers while his hips drove ruthlessly into hers. He sank his teeth into the flesh at her shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough for her to feel it and whimper. It didn't take long to push them both to the brink of ecstasy, and when he slung a hand around her torso to bring her spine flush with his chest, she moaned at the erotic shift in position. He slid his fingers between her legs, heard her cry out and then break around him in beautiful, erratic waves.

"Look at me, Evangeline," he commanded. Her chin angled up, those silvery-blue eyes half-lidded and glimmering with passion, cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I love you."

She exhaled, eyes burning brighter. "I love you, too."

"You're mine," he grunted, punctuating each word with a thrust.

A breathless whine left her. "Yours."

On that admission, her lithe body undulated anew, forcing him to chase his own release. God, she felt so good. Like utter perfection. Withdrawing, even though all Gage wanted to do was stay and spend inside her, his lips took hers in a tender, open-mouthed kiss, pleasure billowing between them like a gentle fog as he rode out the last spurts of his orgasm to the bedclothes below.

He nuzzled her damp neck when her head lolled back lazily against his shoulder. The sweet perfume of her sweaty skin surrounded him. "You're so agreeable like this," he whispered. "I should keep you in this soft, compliant, sated state all the time."

Her laughter was a balm over him. "If you could promise me countless orgasms, Gage, I would be the most biddable, delightful, obedient lover ever."

"Obedient? You?"

She ground her buttocks against his pelvis for emphasis. "I would be the best behaved mistress of all time."

"How about wife?" She went still in his arms, and Gage cupped her chin, holding that lovely clear gaze with his. He didn't want to hide from her. He never wanted to hide a single thing from her ever again. "Marry me, Evangeline. Make me the happiest man in the world."

Tapping one finger against her jaw, she pretended to consider his proposal. "Does this arrangement come with countless orgasms and kilts?"

"It does."

Full of elation, he bent to kiss her, but the little minx evaded his lips. "Actually, Your Grace, I require more time to think about concessions," she said, but the start of those adorably awful snorts under her breath told him all he needed to know.

Evangeline was glowing. She did not need a mirror to see it. She felt it.

Trust her mouthy little sister to point it out in front of all their friends, too, when they returned to the ballroom—via separate entrances, she might add. "Found what you were looking for, sister dear?"

Evangeline faltered. "Yes, I required a pin."

"And did you get pinned ?" her evil sister asked, her emphasis on the word obvious to anyone in possession of a pair of ears.

"Viola!"

The mortified warning made no difference. Her entire group of friends graced her with knowing smirks. Even Gage's mother, to Evangeline's utter dismay, hid a secret half smile beneath her fan.

Kill me now… the mother of my future husband knows I just did wicked things with her son.

Evangeline bit her lip, wincing at the soreness of their well-kissed state, and forced herself to embody serenity. It was difficult when all she wanted to do was grab her duke by those gorgeously disheveled auburn locks and drag him back upstairs for a good hour. Maybe two.

But first… she nodded happily to the mountain of a man she called hers as he, too, returned to the ballroom and strode directly to her, allowing him to tuck her into his side like a piece of baggage. What was the point of using two separate entrances if he was going to be so obviously possessive? Evangeline giggled. She wouldn't lie—she loved it. Loved him .

The Duke of Vale cleared his throat. "We have another announcement. Lady Evangeline has agreed to become my wife."

The cheers and whoops from the crowd, and especially her friends, were deafening.

"Oh, Effie!" Her sister burst into tears and threw her arms around her, separating her from the duke. "I'm so happy for you. I hoped you would get out of your own way. He's perfect for you. And when he came to ask Papa's permission last night, I could barely contain myself. I knew it. I knew it!"

Evangeline blinked. "Wait, he asked Papa for permission?"

She turned her gaze up to the man who was looking down at her with such love in his green eyes that she felt warmed as if by the sun itself. His lips stretched into a grin that promised mischief. It did not disappoint.

"I wanted to be prepared in case you demanded I marry you." He drew her into those big arms, uncaring of what anyone thought. She didn't care either. Let them stare and let them be envious. "One never knows with a woman of your impetuous nature."

Evangeline arched a brow. "Impetuous?"

"A hothead. Heedless? Precipitous? Any one of those will do."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snorted. "I prefer conclusive."

"Speaking of, you never did say what your conclusions were on your carnal endeavors," he whispered as he gave a signal to the musicians and steered her toward the center of the ballroom. "Did you prove your hypothesis?"

She winked. "Alas, Your Grace, this august researcher will require more extensive study."

"How extensive?" he asked huskily.

"I have a scandalous idea for those unwanted cravats of yours as well as our faithful bedpost. Two of said bedposts, in fact." His green eyes darkened at the image she painted, hands flexing compulsively on hers.

"You are diabolical, woman."

"Too late to escape, Your Grace. I already said yes. You're mine forever." She sang the last word.

The Duke of Vale threw back his head and laughed. When the strains for a waltz began to play and they took to the dancing floor as a newly engaged couple, Evangeline's heart felt as though it was going to burst. Everything inside of her felt joyous and light.

This was how a future should feel—full of infinite, weightless hope. She knew the road ahead would not be easy. She and Vale weren't so different in temperament. They were both strong, stubborn, and assertive, with their own minds and opinions. He would not give in easily and neither would she, but Evangeline had no doubt that even when they bickered and disagreed, laughter would never be too far away. She would be well and wholly loved.

He was simply that kind of man.

And he was hers .