“You have behaved honorably, but that doesn’t mean I have to.” Her arms slid upward, encircling his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she placed soft kisses on his chin, his lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, her mouth moving to his ear, where she whispered her answer. “I’m honored by your offer, Your Grace. Wife, partner, lover. Whatever you want me to be, I shall be. I’m yours.”
FOR YEARS, she’d told herself she was complete without a man, and that was true, to an extent. She lacked experience, but she was not ignorant of the body’s pleasures. But that decade of denying her desire was gone. She’d come to believe that this kind of love would never come her way. That assumption was now shattered too, punctuated by each flash of lightning and each crack of thunder.
Now, with Bamberg, all her hesitation was swept away. They somehow moved against the wall. Her back pressed against it. His body was only a whisper away. Desire ripped through her, an intense primitive force that left her trembling. A throb low in her belly started to spread.
He caressed the side of her face, his thumb brushing her bottom lip.
“My beautiful Taylor. My precious jewel. You make me the happiest of men.”
Their mouths came together, and her entire body was caught in a whirlwind of awareness. His lips played with hers. His fingers pushed into her damp hair, and pins fell to her feet. She melted into his touch and heard a soft cry of need spring from her lips.
Bamberg deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips. The heat in her belly became an ache, spreading through her limbs and to her breasts. Her lips parted under his, inviting him in, wanting, needing more of him. She heard his satisfied groan as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
A jolt of passion rushed through her. Taylor kissed him back, her tongue mimicking the dance she’d just learned.
Whatever shred of control he was hanging onto suddenly disappeared. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he pulled her head back, his mouth taking, drinking in all she was willingly offering him.
She took her hands from around his neck and trailed her fingers over the damp coat, pushing it off his shoulders. She was desperate to feel his skin. She tugged at his waistcoat.
“I’ll not take you before our marriage, Taylor,” he whispered against her lips.
“But I want you now,” she cried breathlessly.
He smiled, and his hands slid down along her spine and over her bottom. He pulled her tight, and she could feel his hardness. She was trapped, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be. The feel of her body against his was a miracle.
His lips left her mouth and caressed her cheek before skimming over her jaw. When they found the sensitive skin of her throat, she pressed her back more fully against the wall, willingly offering him her body.
He tugged at the neckline of her dress, and her breasts sprang free. Every nerve in her body cried for more when his fingers stroked a hard nipple and then tested the heavy fullness of her breast in his hand.
The pressure in her belly continued to build. She couldn’t think or focus. She was robbed of breath, but still she wanted more.
Bringing his mouth back to her lips, he whispered, “To hold us over, until the wedding night.”
His voice was ragged, his breath as short as hers. She didn’t know what he meant, and then he lifted the front of her skirts and pressed his leg against her. Taylor’s thighs clenched around his muscles, and she felt wet. Giving in to some primal instinct, she began to rock against him as his mouth closed around a nipple.
Bamberg’s hand found its way through her skirts until he reached the folds of her sex. His palm pressed on her mound, his fingers retreating and entering again and again. Her body arched against him, one knee rising against his side as he steadily stoked the fires raging within her.
She cried out softly. Her fingers delved into his hair and caressed his cheek. She wanted him never to stop. Stormy pressures were building within her. Seeing the dark planes of his face against her pale skin was intensely erotic.
She was barely aware that she was standing at the moment when her world shifted. Wrapped around him, she came apart, burying her cries of release against his chest.
MILLIE CONTINUED to refuse the midwife’s suggestion of lying in the bed.
Too many people were coming and going. Apparently, childbirth allowed for no privacy whatsoever. Her sister Jo wouldn’t take no for an answer and settled in as a permanent fixture beside Dermot. Her parents had arrived at the Abbey just in time, and Millie was happy they were safely here. But her mother’s tears were no help to her, and Lady Millicent was banished from the room until her grandchild was born.
Sometime in the midst of it all, Millie thought of Taylor and the duke and wondered if anyone had gone after them. Before she could say a word to Dermot, however, another fierce contraction gripped her, and the thought fled into the oblivion of pain.
