The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(168)

"I'll meet you at the entrance to the ballroom in five minutes," she promised her brother.



"Of course, dear child." He bent to kiss her. "Much health and happiness to you both, and a dozen nieces and nephews for me."



He congratulated them both again, and at last they were alone once more.



She hesitated for only a moment. She grabbed Will's hand, snatched up her train, and began to run around the side of the house to the front. She sailed past the butler and into the parlor, practically slamming the door behind them.



As she had run, she'd thought about admitting to him that she had never dreamed in a million years that he had been her lover in the cave. What on earth had he been doing in there? But as his hand had rested in hers, she only had one question: Was the desire between them real?



She had assumed it had been Fitzsimmons' arms around her. Would the thrilling sensations be able to survive now that she knew it was Wilfred Joyce of all people who had been her secret lover? Could those feelings survive the workaday existence in broad daylight which marriage entailed?



Elizabeth pressed Will's back against the door and thrust herself into his arms like a diver launching herself off a cliff. Which in a sense she was. For to consider marrying this man after everything that had happened would be the greatest leap of faith she had ever taken in her young life.



She knew Will, but didn't know him. He had been most candid about his feeling upon many subjects, but his past, his experiences during the war, were shadowy to her at best, like her lover in the cave. Only now he had to come out into the light.



As she kissed him and their hands were once again all over each other, the seams of their clothing straining as they clenched bodies fiercely, Elizabeth had her answer.



However foolhardy it was, she simply couldn't give this up. This was only the tiniest portion of what couples shared, she knew. But it was so compelling that she could never, ever relinquish the torrid yearnings he provoked deep within her, and promised to vibrantly and utterly fulfill.



At last he raised his lips, with gasp and shook his head.



She stared up at him in confusion.



"I'm sorry, darling, but the truth is, I can't hold out much longer. We must stop. We gave your brother our word. We need to go out there in a minute and face everyone." He began to smooth down her skirt and then started to refasten his shirt and waistcoat with trembling fingers.



"Oh, er, yes, of course. Thank you for being so, well, restrained. Gentlemanly."



"I would never do anything to harm you, my dear." He seated her gently on the sofa to help her regain her composure whilst he poured two glasses of port.



"Here, love."



He pressed the glass into her hand and helped raise it to her lips. She took a sip and licked her lips. The sight of her little pink tongue darting out was more than he could stand. He snatched a quick, wet kiss, and smacked his own lips lightly as though tasting something delectable.



"You taste divine. Smell like heaven. I can't stop staring at you. You fill my senses, dearest Elizabeth. That is why we must be cautious. One touch from you, and I'm so filled with desire I forget even my own name."



She nodded and sighed shakily. "I know. It's the same for me."



She patted the sofa and he sat carefully by her side. They both sipped their wine in silence. Then she said, "Can I ask you one thing?"



"Anything, my dear," he promised rashly, even knowing there were many things he would never be able to discuss with her about his past, or even his present.



"When you saw Marcus Fitzsimmons making a bid for me, and the other men flirting, why did you hold back, and never say anything?"



He sighed and stroked the back of her hand with his broad, warm fingers. "Oh, Elizabeth, you're so young. I needed you to be sure. This physical desire between us is so magical, I didn't want to confuse you. Not to mention the fact that I'm far beneath you in station, and so damaged after the war. I can't be much fun for a lively and popular girl like you. Yet I won you." He shook his head in disbelief. "I will spend the rest of my days thanking all the gods for my good fortune in winning your love."



"Only my love? Not my estate?" she asked quietly.



He stiffened, but his face never changed. "I know your brother and I have not had a chance to discuss the formal settlement, but I'm a very wealthy man despite the ramshackle condition of my house at present. He need not give you a dowry. I have more than enough to keep you, and our children when we are finally so blessed."



She nodded and sipped. So far, all seemed well. He did not seem to care about anything other than her. His words before as he had told her how he had discerned her identity were ample evidence of that.