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It was hard to hold back, but he held his desire in check until he was certain she was ready for him. And
even then, even though his fingers were moist with her passion, he still had to be sure, had to ask her,
"Are you ready?"
She looked at him with questioning eyes. "I think so," she whispered. "I need ... something. I think I need
you."
He hadn't thought he could want her more,but her words, simple and true, were like a jolt to his blood,
and it was all he
could do not to plunge recklessly into her then and there. Gritting his teeth against this all-consuming
need, he positioned
himself at her entrance, trying to ignore the way her heat was beckoning him.
With carefully controlled motions, he pushed forward, a back and forth slide, until he reached the proof
of her innocence.
He had no idea if he was going to hurt her; he suspected he might, but if so, there was no way to avoid it.
And since it
seemed foolish to warn her of pain surely that would just make her anxious and tense? he simply
plunged forward,
finally allowing himself to feel her fully around him.
He knew he should stop to make sure she was all right, but by the heavens above, he couldn't have
stopped moving if his
very life depended on it. "Oh, Charlotte," he moaned. "Oh, my God."
Her answer was equal in desire a thrust of her hips, a gasp on her lips and Ned knew that she was
with him, awash in pleasure, any pain all but forgotten.
His motions gained rhythm, and soon his every muscle was focused on not allowing himself release until
he could be sure
that she too reached a climax. It wasn't common for avirgin, he'd been told, but this was his wife this
wasCharlotte
and he didn't know if he could live with himself if he didn't ensure her pleasure.
"Ned," she gasped, her breath coming faster and faster. She looked so beautiful it brought tears to his
eyes. Her cheeks
were flushed, her eyes unfocused, and he couldn't seem to stop thinking,I love her.
She was nearly there; he could see it. He didn't know how much longer he could possibly hold out
against his own body's raging need, and so he slipped a hand between them, his fingers finding her most
sensitive nub of flesh.
She screamed.
He lost all control.
And then, as if in a perfectly choreographed dance, they both tensed and arched at the same precise
moment, motion
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stopped, breathing stopped until they simply collapsed, weary and spent.
And blissfully content.
"I love you," he whispered, needing to say the words even if they were lost into the pillow.
And then he felt, more than heard, her reply. "I love you, too/' she whispered against his neck.
He propped himself up on his elbows. His exhausted muscles protested, but he had to see her face. "I
will make you happy."
he vowed.
She offered him a serene smile. "You already do."
He thought to say something more, but there were no words to express what was in his heart, so he lay
back down on the mattress, gathering her against him until they were two nestled spoons.
"I love you," he said again, almost embarrassed by his desire to say this once every minute or so.
"Good," she said, and he could feel her giggling against him.
Then she flipped over quite suddenly, so that they were face-to-face. She looked rather breathless, as if
she'd just thought
of something quite astonishing.
He quirked a brow in question.
"What," she asked, "do you suppose Rupert and Lydia are doing right now?"
"Do I care?"
She smacked his shoulder with the heel of her hand.
"Oh, very well," he sighed, "I suppose I do care, given that sheis your sister, and that hedid save me
from marrying her."
"What do you think they are doing?" she persisted.
"Much the same as us." he said, "if they're lucky."
"Their lives will not be easy," Charlotte said soberly. "Rupert hasn't two pennies to rub together."
"Oh, I don't know," Ned said with a yawn. "I think they shall make out just fine."
"You do?" Charlotte asked, closing her eyes as she settled deeply into the pillows.
"Mmmm."
"Why?"
"You're a persistent wench, has anyone told you that?"
She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Why?" she asked again.
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He closed his eyes. "Don't ask so many questions. You'll never be surprised."
"I don't want to be surprised. I want to know everything."
He chuckled at that. "Then know this, my dear Charlotte: You have married an exceedingly clever man."
"Have I?" she murmured.
It was a challenge that could not be ignored. "Oh, yes," he said, rolling until he was once again looming
over her. "Oh, yes."
"Very clever, or just a little bit clever?''
"Very very clever." he said wickedly. His body might be too spent for a rematch, but that didn't
mean he couldn't
tortureher.
"I might need proof of this cleverness," she said. "I--oh!"
"Proof enough?"
"Oh!"
"Oh."
"Ohhhh."
Epilogue
One weeklater
"There you are, Mrs. Marchbanks!"
Lydia smiled dreamily as Rupert carried her over the threshold of Portmeadow House. It wasn't as
grand as Thornton Hall, which actually wasn't very grand itself, and it wasn't even theirs, at least not until
Rupert's elderly uncle finally passed on.
But none of that seemed to signify. They were married, and they were in love, and as long as they were
together, it didn't
matter if they were in a borrowed home.
Besides, Rupert's uncle wasn't due back from London for another week.
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"I say," Rupert said, narrowing his eyes as he set her down. "What's this?"
Lydia followed his gaze to a brightly wrapped box sitting on the table in the front hall. "A wedding gift,
perhaps?" she
murmured hopefully.
He shot her a wry look. "Who knows we're married?"
"Just about everyone who had come to watch me marry Lord Burwick, I imagine." she replied. They
had already heard the news of his marriage to Charlotte in her stead. Lydia couldn't even imagine what
the gossip must be like.
Rupert's attention, however, was already on the box. With careful motions, he tugged an envelope free
of the ribbons and
slid a finger under the sealing wax. "It's expensive," he commented. "A real envelope. Not just a folded
piece of paper."
"Open it," Lydia urged.
He stopped just long enough to shoot her a peevish expression. "What do you think I'm doing?"
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