Page 102 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Eleanor and Babette. Still there, in the corner by her vanity.
Watching.
Not real,she told herself. She blinked hard, hoping they’d vanish when she reopened her lids.
They didn’t.
Merrick’s lips found hers again. “Xander prepared dinner, but suppose we just…” His hand slid between her legs, wordlessly finishing his sentence.
She tipped her head back against the pillow, slack-jawed.
The room had been so cold all day, but he lent her his warmth. It seeped into her pores, lit a fire in her heart. An inferno crackled to life within her, brighter than the darkness in her mind.
She was normal, perfectly normal, and he wanted her. As his lips worked their way down her jaw, onto her neck, she opened her eyes again. Darted her gaze to the corner.
Still there.
His thumb grazed her nipple, tweaking gently through her nightdress.
“Merrick…” She was all sensation and very little thought, turning to putty beneath his hands.
He rucked up her skirt and lowered his head between her thighs, the breadth of his strong shoulders spreading her wide. His stubble scraped hersensitive skin, rough with promise. She liked him that way, just on the edge of rough, the promise of love lurking underneath his devastating power.
His possessive grip dented into her thigh. “Your fucking curves drive me wild, Margot.”
She shivered and cried out when the warmth and surety of Merrick’s tongue lapped her center.
“I want you,” he breathed against her. Another slow, savoring lick. “I need you.”
“Have me. Have me then. I’m yours.”
A snort from the corner. Babette, not impressed.
Margot closed her eyes one final time, beyond caring.
Let them see,she decided. Let them see—if nothing else—she still had this. Him. They could take away everything else, but never him.
How truly cursed it was to be a Dravenhearst bride. And yet…
How truly blessed she was to be his.
32
October 27, 1933
Dearest Pa,
—unfinished, from the desk of Margot Dravenhearst
Thesuncameupin the morning. She walked to the pasture to watch Merrick ride. Went to breakfast with him. Kissed him by the front door when he departed for the rickhouses.
And then she stumbled, stuporous already, to her bedroom.
There wasn’t even a question this time, zero hesitation. There was only the laudanum.
The laudanum and the voices in her mind.
“So much to learn, fledgling,” Babette cooed.
