Page 40 of My Wicked Earl
Colinthirstedfor her, his lovely, chattering, bit of light. A light that banished every bit of darkness that the Mad Countess bestowed upon him. It wasn’t just the thought of bedding Miranda, which God help him, the events of this evening had made even worse. This was something else entirely.
The thought of leaving London, of leaving Miranda, was unthinkable.
Mine.
Nothing, and certainly no one had ever been his.
Miranda.
The chubby nuisance of his youth was this magnificent creature in his arms. A woman who begged him to ruin her. A woman whochosehim.
Mine.
He’d grown up with two older brothers, each one more beloved by his parents than Colin could ever hope to be. His life was one of hand-me-downs, the last portion of roast past round the table. Ian’s mended shirts that he’d outgrown. A pair of boots that Mother ordered for Thomas but, when proved too large were passed to Colin.
Nothinghad ever been his.
Nick, who sent Miranda to Colin the night of the Dunbar ball, would be amused but hardly surprised. The Marchioness would be horrified. The Dowager he might be able to charm.
He would beg Lord Cambourne for Miranda’s hand on his knees if he must.
Mine.
Something pure and wonderful blossomed in Colin’s chest. A feeling he didn’t immediately recognize as he’d felt it so rarely.
Joy.
The smell of a campfire and the words of an old gypsy came to him, followed by his mother’s words of hatred whispered in his ear. The combined effect threatened to spread darkness in the beautiful garden, his heart’s desire before him, but for the first time, he ignored both of them. They held no power here. Not with Miranda who banished the darkness as if she were the sun itself.
“Yes.” The words left his lips before they could be stopped.
Miranda gave him a sideways glance, her green eyes glittering with specs of gold as the sun set. A light wind ruffled her hair. She looked well-pleasured. Sated. Her lips were swollen and her bodice just a bit crooked.
He found her to be the most lovely creature he’d ever seen.
“Yes to what? I don’t believe I’ve asked you anything, Mr. Hartley. Unless you mean more of…” she looked skyward struggling to find the right phrase.
“Go on. You are rarely without words.” He sat back against the bench and watched as she flushed that lovely shade of pink.
“More of…this. If that is the case I wholeheartedly agree. Although you do not need to look so smug.”
“I am not smug.”
“You should hear the way the young ladies whisper and roll their eyes as they talk with distaste about the marriage bed, calling it aduty. As if it were something distasteful. Only good for begetting an heir. Truly, if most young girls knew about…this, well I would find that their opinions would be vastly different. What are you agreeing to, Colin?”
Would she always chatter in such a manner? He thought she likely would.
“You asked me once if I’d marry you.” A finger traced the edge of her bodice, wishing he could once again touch those glorious breasts. “Do you remember?”
Miranda blushed, the question stopping her continuous stream of conversation as nothing else would.
“I -I was eight, if I recall correctly, hardly an age when you can make such a decision.
Colin’s eyes ran up her lush form. “I brought you a half-dozen raising cakes.”
Miranda looked away, the pink deepening in her cheeks. “I fear my affections do not come so cheaply now.”
“Indeed?” He tugged at the curl that lay once again between the mounds of her breasts. He wished to see Miranda naked before him, her hair streaming down her body like ink against a creamy white page.
