Page 132 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“So we don’t give up.”
“I know why I’m tempted to open the rickhouse, but why are you? Truly?”
“Because…” She sniffed, her eyes filling with tears. “Because the only way I can stay here with you is if I figure out what happened to the women who came before me. There’s no room for me here, not while they haunt these halls.”
“Then we’ll go,” he said firmly. “We’ll leave.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. You’ll regret it. You’ll resent me. The ghosts will live on. They’ll drive a wedge between us, whether or not we’re living here with them.”
“I don’t think—”
She placed a finger over his lips to silence him. “There’s a way for us to have it all. We have to try. I’ll regret it forever if we don’t try. I think you will too.”
Merrick’s hands slid down her bare arms. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Over her wedding ring. He held there for a moment, breathing against her skin. “You make me want to be brave. Very foolish or very brave, it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.”
“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
He smiled.
“We’ll do it together. You don’t have to face it alone,” she said, raising a hand to his cheek, reveling in the rough feel of his evening stubble. She pressed her lips there, dragging them along his jawline, scraping.
He inhaled softly. His fingers curled into her hips.
“The thing that hurts the most, Merrick,” she whispered, “the place where the pain lives? That’s also the place where healing begins.”
He shuddered at her words, his jaw tremoring.
She kissed him there again. And again. And again.
His hand moved to her cheek, turning her head. He captured her mouth with his own. She could taste the need on his lips, the desire. His length grew hard between her legs. She rocked into him, tipping her head back with a groan.
“Before we go further,” he rasped, “I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” she cried, breathless.
“That you’re ready. I haven’t touched you because I haven’t known, not because I haven’t wanted to.”
“You could have asked.”
“I’m asking now.” His eyes were twin fires, golden embers.
She swallowed. “I don’t want to carry a child again,” she admitted. “Not yet.”
“You don’t have to ever again if you don’t want to. I don’t need a baby from you, Margot. I never have.”
She held her breath, scarcely daring to believe him. All men wanted sons. All men wanted—
“I’ll pull out,” he continued, closely watching her face. “I don’t need a baby. I only needyou.”
Unable to trust her voice, she nodded. Slowly.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
His hands hitched her slip upward, lips closing over hers. His fingers grazed the top of her stockings, then slid under her bottom, cupping her mere inches from where she wanted him most. She ground down on him, seeking pressure. He groaned, lifting his hips.
“More,” she begged.
