Page 70 of The Marquess and the Maiden

He kissed the back of her neck, moved his other hand up to cup her breast, knead the tender flesh.

She pushed herself back into him, his hardened length pressed against her bottom. He reached between her thighs, slipped a finger inside her.

Yes, this was how he knew to love her. She didn’t need the words, she told herself. She could love enough for them both, as long as he stayed by her side and made her feel such pleasure.

“Shift yourself this way for me, love.” He moved her top leg over so it bent slightly and pressed into the mattress. Then he slid himself inside her. She cried out.

“You’re so deep,” she said.

“Too much?”

“No, ’tis good. Just unexpected.”

“I didn’t want to hurt your ankle.” He kissed her neck, nibbled on her shoulders. “From this position, I can touch you everywhere.” He proved it by flicking his finger across her nipple. She hissed between her teeth and ground herself against him.

He picked up speed, thrusting into her faster, harder. She reached behind her and put her hand on his thigh, reveling in the muscles that played beneath her palm as he pumped their bodies.

His fingers brushed against her center, reaching the tight bundle of nerves hidden within her folds. On the second touch, she splintered, pleasure washing over her. He climaxed a second later, pulling her tight against him as they rode the waves together.

…

The next time she woke up, she was alone. She hated the emptiness the feeling left her with. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaned against the pillows at the back of the bed. Then she rang the bell that sat on the bedside table.

The maid popped her head in with a smile at the ready. She bobbed. “Yes, my lady?”

“I think I should like some breakfast.”

The girl nodded, then disappeared.

The doctor had instructed Harriet to stay off her ankle as much as possible over the next few days so that it healed more quickly. She shifted her ankle some to see which direction hurt most when she moved it. Her body ached in other places, too; ugly bruises likely marred her pale skin, but the ankle was the worst.

The door opened again, but this time Oliver came in, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. He brought it over and set it on the bed next to her. The spot where he’d slept, at least most of the night.

He smiled at her before plucking a berry off the plate and holding it to her mouth.

“How is your pain now, wife?”

“Tolerable. I don’t want to take any more laudanum unless I absolutely have to. I loathe the way it makes me feel.”

He nodded. “That is understandable. I cannot even bide the smell anymore.” He pointed to the tray. “Eat.”

She did as he bade, enjoying every morsel he’d brought her.

“When you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you somewhere. I want to show you something.”

She bit into her last berry. “Please, I would love to go somewhere, but I believe the doctor wants me to stay off my ankle for a few more days. Can it wait?”

“This, no, it cannot wait. I have a solution, though.” He disappeared into the hall, then came back in a moment later pushing a wheelchair. “I thought we had thrown this out after I was finished using it. But my mother saves everything, as it were.”

She sat up farther and smiled at him. Oh, how she loved him. His beautiful face and even more beautiful heart. He helped her stand on her good leg and twist so she could fall back into the chair. Then he rolled her out of her bedchamber and down the corridor.

“Do you remember the night our mothers tried to make a match between us?” he asked.

“I do. I was so nervous, I chattered on about nothingness. No wonder you were in a hurry to rid yourself of me.”

“Nonsense. Yes, you talked. A lot.” He chuckled. “Still I thought you were beautiful, and your exquisite curves were almost enticing enough to forgo my personal agenda of earning back my family’s fortune on my own.” He rolled her to the opposite end of the floor. “You asked me to walk you through the portrait hall.”

“That was my mother’s idea. She wanted us to be alone, well, as alone as propriety would allow.”

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