Page 177 of Harpy of the Ton
He lowered himself onto one knee.
“Lady Arabella Ponsford, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I have nothing to offer you, but I ask you to fill my heart and home, and to love my children as your own—as they love you.”
She took his hand and lifted it to her lips. “You’re wrong,” she whispered.
He swallowed the stab of hurt and lowered his gaze. It was too much to expect her to forgive him after what he’d done.
“Won’t you ask mewhyyou’re wrong, Lawrence?”
He glanced up to see her smiling at him, her eyes glistening.
“Never say that you have nothing to offer me,” she said. “A hardworking, honest soul, a doting father, and a loving husband—what are titles and fortunes compared to that?”
“Then…” he said, hardly daring to hope.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I was never happier than when I believed I was your wife—and mother to your children. I treasured the memory of our life together as a beautiful dream. And now you offer me the dream—a life with the man I love, and children I adore, as if they were my own…” She shook her head, and a tear spilled onto her cheek. “I cannot imagine such happiness.”
“Oh, Bella!” He rose and pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against hers. She molded her body against his, and his manhood twitched with eagerness as he felt her two little peaks pressing against his chest.
“Ahem.”
She broke the kiss, her face flushing, but Lawrence pulled her close.
“Whitcombe, would you deny me this moment?” he asked.
“Of course not, my good man.” Whitcombe chuckled. “I only wished to offer my carriage, which is at your disposal. I can see to Dunton’s.” He gestured toward the pathetic figure cowering before him.
Lawrence stared at Dunton. To think he’d once envied men such as him. But he was the richer of the two, because while Dunton had known desire, lust, and greed, he had never known love. And he never would.
He held out his hand, and Bella took it, smiling up at him with her soft blue gaze. Together, they climbed into the carriage with their children, a family reunited.
Epilogue
Bella lay onthe bed, her gaze wandering across the ceiling—the paintings depicting rosy-cheeked cherubs with their serene smiles and soft, feathered wings. Her body still thrummed with the ripples of her climax, and she squeezed her thighs together, chasing the pleasure that had made her scream with ecstasy only moments before, savoring the delicious soreness from her husband’s attentions.
Chatter and laugher filtered through the house. No doubt the wedding guests were gossiping about how the groom, as soon as the toasts concluded, had tossed the bride over his shoulder and carried her upstairs, like a barbarian eager to bed his mate.
And what a bedding it had been! Her discarded wedding gown lay torn on the floor, unable to withstand his fervor as he forsook gentility and thoroughly claimed her as his.
And she had relished every moment.
She yawned and stretched, and a warm hand caressed her face. Then light fingertips traced an invisible path toward her neck and down her throat, until, finally, the hand cupped a breast. A fingertip flicked her nipple, and she caught her breath at the pulse of pleasure in her center.
“Mmm… Is my wife ready for me again?”
“Lawrence, you’re an insatiable beast.”
“Beast, am I?”
He caught her wrists, and the bed shifted under his weight as he mounted her, then he thrust forward, and she let out a low cry of pleasure.
“Ah… What greater delight is there for a man than to bury himself inside his woman?” His low growl reverberated in her chest, and she arched her back, parting her legs further. “Beast I may be,” he said, sliding out before plunging inside her once more, “but I’myourbeast.”
“Lawrence…” she panted, “the guests will—Oh!”
A small burst of ecstasy ignited in her center, and she looked up into her husband’s eyes, which glazed over with satiation as the newlyweds came to pleasure.
At length, he captured her mouth in a kiss and then climbed off the bed. She rolled onto her side, feasting her eyes on his body—the toned, muscular form, the broad chest that tapered to his waist, and the firm, sculpted buttocks she’d clung to while he drove into her with such primal fervor.
