Passion for the Game(91)

“When did I—” His eyes widened. “By God, have you a spy in my midst?”

Maria smiled.

“Vixen,” he muttered, kneeing her legs open and settling his hips between them. “Yes, I said that. Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask you under those very real circumstances, but I have no choice. I cannot live without you.”

He reached between them, cupping her sex in his hand and stroking her. “Neither of us has made any effort to prevent conception,” he said softly, “and I am glad of that. The thought of you increasing with my child fills me with awe. Imagine how clever and industrious our issue will be.”

“Christopher . . .” Her eyes stung and her vision grew blurry, even as her body awakened to his touch, growing liquid with desire. “How would we ever manage such a mischievous lot?”

“Just the way we managed the lot last night.” Gripping his cock, he teased her creamy opening with the wide tip and then began to slip inside her. “Together.”

Her eyes slid closed as he filled her, her head falling to the side to expose her throat to his mouth. “And if something were to happen to me or our children,” she asked, “would you promise to hold yourself blameless? Or would you damn yourself forever?”

Christopher stilled, his cock a thick, throbbing presence within her. Something dark passed over his features, remembered pain and thoughts of more, perhaps.

“You could have left your life of crime long ago,” she murmured, her arms clasped around his back. “The life you embraced to save your brother, and in the end it was the death of him, yes?”

The shudder that moved through him shook her, too.

“And yet you stay,” she whispered, “caring for those who are loyal to you, seeing to their families when they pass on, providing a home and food on the table for many.”

“I am not a saint, Maria.”

“No. You are a fallen angel.” The comparison seemed even more apropos now, with his handsomeness offset by the blue satin lining of her canopy.

He growled. “There is nothing angelic about me.”

“My darling.” She lifted her head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “If we stay unwed, you will know that I stay with you because I wish to. Because I make that same wish every day, and you are not responsible for binding me to you.”

“Could you not make the wish to wed me and be done with it?”

She laughed and tugged him closer. He held back a moment, an immovable object unless he wished to be moved. Then he sighed and rolled over, taking her with him, keeping them joined. He reclined his golden head into the mass of pillows and gazed up at her.

“I am the bastard son of a nobleman,” he said with the uninflected tone she had come to realize meant that he was discussing something that disturbed him. “My mother was the unfortunate recipient of her employer’s lust until she had the temerity to start increasing. Then she was discharged from her position as scullery maid and sent back to the village in shame.”

“Your brother . . . ?”

“Was legitimate. But I had the better circumstances. I was happy in the village. He was miserable in the manse. Our pater was half mad and viciously tempered. I think he raped my mother for the power of the act, not so much the physical release. Still, she loved me. The only affection Nigel ever knew was mine and his wife’s.”

“I am sorry.” Maria brushed the hair back from his forehead and then kissed him in the space between his brows.

“So you see, my love”—he caught up her hand and set it over his heart—“I wish to have children within wedlock. I wish to share a home and a life with you. I wish to share a façade of normalcy with you.”

“A façade?” She smiled.

“Will we ever be normal?”

“God forbid,” she said with mock graveness.

“You wound me,” he retorted. “Jesting at a time like this. I am laying my heart at your feet and you tease me.”

Maria lifted their joined hands and set them over her own heart. “Your heart is not at my feet, it is here, beating within my breast.”

Christopher kissed her fingertips, his dark blue eyes alight with love. “We can manage, I promise you that. My steward and Philip are capable of seeing to my affairs while we are away. Philip is the most recent addition to my lieutenants. There are several, and together they can effectively rub along without me.”

“Good heavens,” she breathed, blinking down at him. “Whatever will you do with yourself surrounded by an increasing wife and her soon-to-be-marriageable sister?”

“An increasing wife . . .” His voice was even raspier than usual. His hand cupped her nape and pulled her down, his lips pressing hard to hers. “I want that, damn it. I want it now. With you. I never thought I would. But I do, and I need you to give it to me. No other woman would be able to tame me. After all, how many notorious suspected murderesses are there?”