She shivered, and he drew back, his eyes still on her. She grabbed hold of his coat, conscious of her forwardness. But she pulled him toward her anyway. Right now she didn't want to think about all the reasons they might not be together. She didn't want to think about his dukedom. She didn't want to think about how he was charming and sociable while she was most comfortable poring over tomes and pottery.
He kissed her again. His warm and wet mouth breached hers, and his soft, velvety tongue danced with her tongue. He devoured her. "I've missed you so much."
She closed her eyes. Maybe if she opened them, she might find this had all been a dream, for certainly there could be no possibility in which Percival was simply stating all the deepest desires of her heart.
His hands fumbled on the buttons of her dress. "The rain was not ideal. I'm worried you might get cold."
"And you once wanted to be a physician." She chuckled.
Amusement flickered through his eyes. "You know me well, sweetheart."
Warmth rushed through her at the pet name. Blood surged through Fiona, and Percival reverently removed her hairpins.
His pupils darkened, and he slid her dress and various undergarments off.
"I love you," he repeated, and she longed to answer him.
She loved him, she was sure, but she'd never said that to anyone before. And the last time they were together like this, he'd left in the night.
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry for everything. Truly."
Percival leaned down, exposing the wide breadth of his back, and removed his boot and stocking. He then winked at her, as if he were fully aware of how her heart was fluttering in his presence, and unbuttoned his waistcoat.
Her throat dried. "I'm not sure that's proper."
Percival stripped off his shirt, revealing his broad and powerful chest. "There's plenty of time to be proper. Though I have to say, I dream of a lifetime of being just this sort of improper with you."
Fiona blinked. His words blazed through her, even as the lantern's rays jostled over the planes of Percival's body. She ran her fingers over his chest, brushing against the hair that curled over the hard surface.
"My darling." His voice thickened, and he swooped her toward him. "The things I desire to do to you."
He trailed kisses over her bare flesh, seeming to revel over every inch, and her skin tingled beneath the warm attention of his delicious mouth. He circled her breasts with his hands, sending pleasurable jolts through her body, and tightening the mound between her legs.
He brushed his fingers over her rosy peaks and swallowed hard as they pebbled beneath his touch. "I know I've seen these before, but Zeus, I swear I haven't seen anything more perfect in all the world. Fiona. Darling. I cannot wait to make you my wife."
"Your wife?"
Percival flushed. "I'm sorry. That wasn't the proposal I had in my mind. I had imagined something with rather more flowers. And perhaps even champagne and a splendid view. Forget I ever said anything."
Joy cascaded through her, and her lips twitched. "I can't forget."
Percival kneeled before her, his voice solemn. "Then, Fiona Amberly, sometimes known as the Scarlet Demon, will you do me the tremendous honor of making me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife?"
Fiona's heart raced, and warmth leaped and lurched through her. This was everything she'd ever dreamed of.
She stared at him, almost to ascertain he was not in fact a mirage.
But it was him. It was her Percival, and he was saying the most brilliant things in the world to her.
"You think I'll be a suitable wife?" Her voice trembled.
"The very best, my dear."
"But I haven't been in society much, and my season was, well, rather less than mediocre. People will wonder why you chose me. They might gossip. You're a new duke, you don't need cause to make anyone think less of you." Fiona lowered her gaze, and her chest clenched. Saying each word slashed her heart, but he had to know, simply had to know how unsuitable she was. She wouldn't want to do anything that might harm him, even if that would mean giving up the one thing that would bring her the most joy in the whole world.
"And you, my darling, are quite incredible for telling me all that."
"I mean it-"
He kissed her hand. "I know you do. I also know that you're sweet, and mostly honest, when you're not trying to pretend to be a highwaywoman, and that you would do anything for your family."
Her heart soared, as if struggling to climb from her chest and join Percival. Her fingers shook, as if unsure this was really happening, that everything actually would be just fine.
"Fiona … " His voice trembled, and she realized she hadn't responded to his proposal.
"Yes! Naturally, yes, I-" She stammered on her words, and drew him into an embrace. Speaking was too difficult an action right now, but he had to know, that she wanted nothing more than to have him beside her.
Forever.
Her heart pounded against his chest, and his hands moved over her.
"Darling," he murmured.
There was something she needed to say. Something she'd never said before, even if it was the truest thing in her heart. "I love you, Percival. I love you so much."
His eyes misted, and he held her more tightly in his arms. "I love you too, sweetheart."
His murmurings turned to warm, wet kisses. His lips caressed her, and his arms held her close. She'd never felt this safe before. And this was just the beginning of the rest of their lives.
He lay her down on the cottage floor. The thick wooden boards roughened her back, and her hair tangled against the rigid floor. She only pulled him toward her, satisfied only when his body pressed against her own. The space between her legs begged to be touched, and she wiggled her body against his, behaving every bit the wanton woman.
Everything had changed. She wasn't the same bluestocking, the same wallflower she'd once been. Percival's charm, his consistent sense of humor in the face of all manner of ills, made her adore him. Life was fuller than she'd ever imagined.
She pressed her mouth against his, nibbling and sucking on his succulent lips, with all the vigor and enthusiasm he'd shown her. He lifted her on top of him, and her womanhood tingled and constricted. She rocked her body against his, driven by a baser instinct into a new, mounting rhythm.
His pupils flared, and he grabbed hold of her bottom, moving her on top of his rod. Her depths throbbed with desire, but she hesitated.
His face sobered immediately. "We needn't do anything, Fiona. I'm quite willing to postpone any delights until after the wedding. Whatever you want."
She shook her head firmly. She'd thought for so long she might never even see the man again. She wanted this moment. Her whole body craved him.
She raised her chin. "I choose you over any tradition."
"Thank God." He pulled her downward, so that the space between her legs touched his rod. He rocked her over the tip over it. "Just like that, my dear. Just become used to it. You needn't do anything more."
The contact with something hard and firm was spectacular, and he slid her gently over him. "It will hurt less if you're in control."
She smiled down at him. His hands rubbed along her thighs, reminding her that he was here, with her, for this moment. She arched down over him, placing her hands on either side of him.
He was inside her. They were joined, and everything in the world was marvelous. Sweat beaded over his muscular chest, and pink tinged his cheeks. Some of his hair clung to his forehead, and she squeezed her hands over the wooden floorboards.
Perhaps she was acting disgracefully, but she'd never been happier in her life.
And then the bliss grew larger, for Percival thrust inside her. His rod swelled further, and she joined him in this new, exciting rhythm. Masculine scent filled the air, and her peaks tightened further. Percival urged her lower still, and he returned his attention to her, capturing her tight peaks in his warm, wet mouth.
Percival's eyes glistened. "Fiona. Darling."
Any coldness she'd experienced had long since disappeared, and she moaned as his hand traveled over her thigh.
The tempo quickened, his scorching manhood pummeled inside her, and their breaths joined. Fire swept through her, and her body shook and quaked. Percival grasped hold of her. And then he was shaking beneath her, filling her with his seed. Her heart swelled, and he pulled her toward his chest. She rested her head on his broad width and rubbed her fingers over the smattering of chestnut curls and his own tawny peaks.