Page 69 of A Marriage for the Marquess

“I know,” she sighed.

He gazed at her, a bit of mischief in his eyes. “How did you know, Juliet Anne Glenraven?”

“The way you look at me, touch me, care about me, and even listen to me. It makes me love you even more.”

They held each other close, and together, in their secret summerhouse, they explored each other, each touch, each kiss a revelation, and each revelation binding them closer. Her shallow breathing had her heart racing as if she had run up five flights of stairs. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she anticipated what was to come. A warmth spread through her chest, groundingher. Unease was replaced with safety. Need was replaced with passion.

Her eyes fluttered open to find his gray eyes sparkled like lightning, their intensity holding her spellbound. He drew closer, never taking his eyes from hers. Closer. She could see his firm, soft lips. Closer. She reached out—needing to touch him.

She nestled against them. The mere touch of his hand, his knuckles stroking her face, sent a warming shiver through her. His eyes focused on her mouth, and she instinctively wet her parched lips. He ran his thumb gently over her lower lip, sending a tingle through her with each gentle stroke. She kissed his finger, feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips. His quick intake of breath sent a thrill through her, a silent acknowledgement of their shared desire. As he eased closer, wrapping her in his arms, a sense of urgency began to burn inside her. Her heart raced, and there was this deep, insistent need to be closer to him, to feel his touch and warmth. Every part of her responded to his embrace, driving her to press against him, seeking to be closer, but it wasn’t enough.

He lowered his head, and she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. She lifted her trembling hand and caressed his cheek. The thought of him sent her to places she could only find in her dreams. He left her lips and kissed her along her cheek.Juliet, he whispered in her ear. His arms cradled her, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. She wanted him to let her go. Then, he tenderly kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. With a gentle touch, he lifted her chin with the crook of his finger and captured her lips once more. Liquid heat roared through her veins. Every nerve was alive. Every touch of his lips made her dizzy with delight. A hushed moan escaped her lips, the sound meant only for him.

He kissed her lips and she sank further into his arms as he left a trail of velvety, warm kisses down her neck. Another moan, ragged, wavering on the edge of surrender, escaped her lips.

Outside, the rising wind matched her growing desire. He pressed his manhood against her while his lips seared a path across the top of her breasts. She gasped at the sensations and held him tighter lest he stop.

His hand covered her breast, She was going to die, the sensation was exquisite joy. His mouth advanced in a warm, steady march across her collarbone and down the soft incline of her breast. He hesitated, and she panicked. “Please, don’t stop.”

His gaze was intense and unwavering, filled with deep emotion and passion. His eyes, locked on her, conveyed a silent promise and yearning that words could never capture. And she felt cherished, the only person in his world.

A sense of urgency began to build. She attempted halfheartedly to control the dizzying current racing through her but quickly gave up. He dipped his head. His mouth found the softness of her breast. Slowly, he licked her hardened nipple, the sensation pure and explosive.

Her soft curves molded into the hard planes of his body. He raised his head, and she closed her eyes, feeling his breath on her neck as began to trail kisses down her body once more. His hot breath against her stomach, her thigh, and…places, secret places she suddenly felt compelled to share with him. His hands stroked and caressed her, but it wasn’t enough. He was tender, coaxing, kissing, stroking and soothing until she craved more from him. He began slowly at first, still cooing and comforting, and he moved inside her.

The wind picked up—slowly at first. The faster her heart beat, the wilder the wind blew, and the more insistent she became, the deeper he went. Juliet was lost in her desire and Ewan’s passion,but she didn’t care. Slowly, they found a rhythm that brought her to an edge she had never been to before.

“Forever, my Juliet,” he murmured.

A delightful demanding sensation kept building inside her. When she could no longer contain it, she surrendered, her resistance shattered into a million pieces. How would she ever be the same? Her hands raked his back as her heartbeat slowed. She soothed him, until a long, low groan escaped his lips, ending with her name,Juliet.

The wind had calmed. Ewan pulled away, his eyes glistening with contentment. He tucked her head against his chest. “My wife,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head.

She let out a soft sigh. “Forever, my husband,” she said softly as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In their shared journey of discovery, they told each other they were loved, showed each other they were loved, and in the quiet sanctity of their wedding night, they forged a bond that was unbreakable.

Outside the walls of the summerhouse, the world, the ace of hearts, Order of Shadows, and intrigue beyond the gate ceased to exist. In each other’s embrace, they found what they hadn’t realized they had been searching for all along—each other.

Epilogue

May 2, 1820

Ewan and Duncanstrolled through the park, their conversation a mix of estate matters and lighter musings. Ewan’s attention drifted from time to time. Duncan clapped a hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “She’ll be back shortly.”

Their walk was interrupted by the familiar voice of Percival Thimbleby, the puppeteer.

“Lord Glenraven, it is you. How fortunate to see you and your friend.”

“Good day,” Ewan touched the brim of his hat, “to you.”

“Ladies and gentlemen. This is Lord Glenraven, a most excellent hero for our poor Judy.” The puppeteer turned to Ewan. “My lord, I beseech you, your heroics are needed once more!”

About to turn wave off the man, Ewan spotted a pair of small feet peeking out from under the curtain where Juliet once stood. Somewhat disappointed, he leaned toward Duncan. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Oh, I will not miss this.” Duncan took a seat with the rest of the audience.

“Very well, Mr. Thimbleby. Your Punch has returned from a long journey.”

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