Only Marriage Will Do Read online

  “Juliet.” He returned his hand to her shoulder and pressed her onto her back. “Juliet. Wake up, my love.” She stirred, her head moving restlessly on the pillow, her arms clutching the sheet to pull it higher. He stroked a long finger down her cheek and across her lips. Lips he longed to kiss right now.

  “Juliet.” He raised his voice a little louder, with a little more urgency. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed, then opened wide in the poor light.

  “Amiable?” She struggled to sit up. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “No, love. There’s nothing wrong. I just…I just…” He sputtered to a halt.

  What the hell should he say? He was three kinds of a fool for not planning this better. Best to muddle through, though, and try not to make a complete ass of himself. He took a deep breath.

  “I wanted to tell you I’m not angry with you. About the room, about last night, about this whole journey. I am very glad to be your protector.”

  She smiled a little and pulled the sheet higher. “I am glad you’re not angry, Amiable. I am sorry about having to share the room. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. Is it terribly uncomfortable?”

  Blast it, why hadn’t he lit a candle? He needed to see her face better. “No, it’s not bad. I’ve slept on worse with the army.” What now? Oh, why hadn’t he waited for morning? This was no way to go about something so momentous.

  “Did you have something else to tell me, Amiable?” Her head leaned to the side, just like a bird. The image tugged at his heartstrings.

  “My dear. This is perhaps not the time nor the place but I need to ask you, sweetheart.” He took her hand between both of his. “Juliet, will you marry me?”

  “Oh.” She sat up straighter in the bed, pulling her knees up until she pressed into a compact ball. She tried to withdraw her hand from his, but he hung on to it, suddenly wary at her reaction.

  He had expected to be kissing her by now, a betrothed man. “Will you marry me, Juliet?” He repeated it, in hopes her reaction could be explained as mere astonishment.

  Her breathing sped up.

  Something was wrong. Damn it, he couldn’t see her face. If he could see her, he would know what was wrong. Hell. Neither could he go light a candle because of his nakedness. He could grab a sheet and wrap himself up—

  “Amiable, don’t do this.”

  The soft plea stopped him cold. His heart seized with fear. “Don’t do what, my dear?”

  “Don’t ask me to marry you.”

  He sat, completely befuddled. “Why ever not, Juliet? I thought you wanted me to propose.” Had he read her wrong? Was she just a brazen wanton? A strumpet with a title? His world turned upside-down in the blink of an eye.

  “I…No. No, I won’t marry you, Amiable. I don’t think it would be fair to either of us. We don’t know each other very well. We don’t know if we would suit. Since there has been no real impropriety, nothing the public at least could point to, there is no need for you to be noble.” Her tone was cool, rational.

  It hit him like a dash of cold water in his face. He dropped her hand and slid silently off the bed. “It will be as you wish, my lady. I will not trespass on your time with such an offer again.” He clipped the words so short he almost bit his tongue. He stooped and groped for his clothes. “I am sorry to have awakened you, for we must leave early in the morning. I’ll arrange for a maid to assist you with your clothing. Until then, my lady.”

  Dressed in hastily donned breeches and shirt, he seized his boots and stalked from the room. Better an uncomfortable night in the carriage than in a room with a cold-hearted licentious bitch. It didn’t really matter where he went. Sleep wouldn’t enter into it anyway.

  Chapter 14

  The last five days of their journey were unspeakable torture for Juliet. She barely spoke ten words to Amiable during that time, so she couldn’t say for sure how well he had coped. She certainly hoped his misery equaled hers.

  From the moment he had awakened her that night in Coalville and asked her to marry him, she had withdrawn from almost all contact with him. The agony of hearing him ask her to marry him had been exquisite. Refusing him had been torture. Like having the hope of heaven dangled before her yet knowing she must not reach for it.

  Worse, she feared if he asked again, in a moment of weakness, she would say yes and be tied for life to a man she loved desperately but who had married her solely for honor’s sake. Better to deal with the pain during these five days in the isolation of the carriage and be done with it.

  She had ridden alone the whole time, for Amiable rode his horse, even the two days it poured rain. They had taken only dinner together, accomplished for the most part in a stony silence. She had become Lady Juliet again, he Captain Dawson.

  In truth, they acted as though someone was dying. Each day their tentative hold on each other became weaker. After he left Guinevere’s Keep, the death would be complete. She’d spent the past five days brooding over how an acquaintance that had started with so much promise had come to such a dismal end.

  They swept into the yard of the Gentil Knyght in Penrith just as the sun lowered in the west. The reddening sky cast a pink glow over her as she descended from the carriage, helped by Roberts, of course.

  Amiable had long since relinquished that duty. Instead, he had dismounted and gone into the inn to secure their rooms.

  She followed a moment later and stood quietly as he gave orders for dinner in an hour in the parlor of her room. Why did he still agree to dine with her? Some misplaced sense of duty, perhaps. She wished he would dispense with it and leave her to pick at her supper in peace.

  In any case, this would be their last meal together. Tomorrow evening they would arrive at the Keep. She didn’t doubt that ten minutes after their arrival Captain Dawson would take his leave, ride back down the tree-lined drive to the small inn at Wigton, and from there the following day journey home. The image made her stomach churn.

  Somehow, she doubted she would have much appetite tonight.

  The bedchamber and parlor were furnished in rich woods and expensive linens, obviously the best room the inn could offer. The handsome mahogany bed, with hangings and coverlet of deep green satin, rose so high off the floor a small step stood beside it. A bathtub had been set near the fire. Juliet gave a prayer of thanks to be able to soak the weariness out of her aching bones after the meal. The parlor, also tastefully furnished, boasted a sofa, table and chairs, and a chaise set near the fireplace. Even in the midst of July fires had been lit against the northern chill. She moved toward the blaze to warm her hands. If only the flames could warm her heart as well.

  After her luggage arrived, she remained standing to enjoy the stretch of her muscles after so many hours of sitting in the cramped carriage. She moved to the window that looked out over part of the town. Pretty little cottages, several with flowers in the front yard, lined the rustic street. She should stretch her legs with a walk before dinner. Perhaps the air would lift her spirits. Slim chance of that, but it would do no harm either. She grabbed up her shawl, hurried back down the stairs, and out the front door before Amiable saw her. He’d either stop her or insist one of the servants accompany her and she was in no mood for company.

  She had no chaperone, true, but at the moment she didn’t care a fig for propriety. No harm would befall her here. Tomorrow she would begin her life anew, a life without Captain Dawson. Perhaps she needed a bit of rebellion tonight to put that change into perspective. She was her own mistress, by God, at least until Duncan came home. Better start acting like it.

  Determined to celebrate her newly declared freedom, she threw back her head and pulled in great gulps of fresh, floral-tinged air. Passing by one of the cottages on her left with a rose garden in the front, she paused to sniff the heady perfume of the full blooms. She raised a large showy pink blossom to her nose and indulged in the sinful fragrance.

  “They say ‘a rose by any other name would smell as
sweet.’ Do you agree, my lady?”

  His voice came out of nowhere, startling her with more words than he had spoken to her at one time in five days. She raised her head and stepped back from the rose to face Amiable as he strode up to her. He wore a pleasant smile, as though the past days had never occurred. That angered her more than the neglect of those days ever had.

  She looked around her, pretending to search for someone. “Do you speak to me, sir? I beg your pardon, but I am not in the habit of conversing with strangers.”

  “Lady Juliet, I am hardly a stranger to you.” He smiled, a lazy grin that infuriated her.

  “I beg to differ, sir. I might as well have traveled alone these past five days. The solitude has been much the same even in your company.” She turned away, determined to continue her walk, although the slight joy she had taken in it had gone. Of course, he fell in beside her. She would not be able to rid herself of him. Not until tomorrow.

  “You have my company and my full attention now, my lady. May you not avail yourself of them on our last evening together?”

  Already thinking about leaving her.

  “To what end, Captain Dawson?” She did not even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Our slight acquaintance needs no ‘last evening’ of reminiscence. I am fatigued and will dine alone in my room.” She rounded on him, tired of his games. “Indeed, I give you leave to end your escort in the morning. I will be in Guinevere’s Keep before the sun sets tomorrow. There is no need for you to journey all the way there only to leave again immediately.” The words came rushing out before she could think to stop them.

  His smile stopped. “I would see you safely home, my lady. As I have come all this way, it seems imprudent not to finish my charge.”

  “Imprudent or not, I do not want you.” She turned to go back the way she came, but he brought her up short as he stepped into her path.

  “Yes, you made that perfectly clear five days ago.” Something flashed behind his eyes, something she had not seen there before. Anger or hurt?

  “Then if it is perfectly clear, Captain Dawson, why do you persist in accompanying me? Why can you not just leave?” She dodged around him but he grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him.

  “Oh, I will go, my lady. Although not before I take my leave of you.” His eyes glittered like sapphires, dark and hard.

  Then his arms snaked around her, drawing her sharply against him. Every inch of his hard, magnificent body from chest to thighs pressed against her. He squeezed her against him until her breath whooshed out of her body. With one hand, he tilted her face upward as his face descended to meet it.

  God, no. Not this.

  His mouth closed on hers.

  Chapter 15

  Shivers ran down her body in cold, tingling rivers.

  His kiss had changed. Those before had been gentle explorations. Now he pillaged, plundered, ravished her mouth. He stabbed his tongue into her with a ferocity that both repelled and excited her. Oh, how she’d longed for this. She fought back in kind, holding his tongue captive, stroking it, massaging it, sucking it until he moaned into her mouth.

  He tipped her face to the side, melding their lips together until she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Her legs weakened. If they didn’t stop soon, she’d collapse right here in the street. Not that she cared.

  Amiable slowly disengaged his lips from hers. A protest rose to her lips, but he whispered in her ear. “Don’t send me away, Juliet. Please don’t, love. Come back to the inn with me. Let me love you, sweet.”

  Her heart beat so hard it might burst through her chest. Her throat thickened, clogged with sudden tears. The threat of worse pain made her pause and peer into his eyes, lest she discover his words some cruel jest. Instead, tenderness lurked where before there had been only wariness.

  The look she had seen Duncan give Katarina—tenderness and love and longing mingled with pain.

  She abruptly burst into tears, love and longing, frustration and fear welling forth to ruin yet another of his jackets.

  Immediately, he hoisted her in his arms and with swift strides took them back toward the inn. Before he reached the door he whispered, “Shall I carry you straight up, sweetheart, or do you want to walk on your own?”

  She clutched him tighter. “Just take me, Amiable. Take me now.”

  He swept into the busy room, loud chatting, the clink of bottles and glasses giving way to the soft thud, thud as he mounted the steps to the first floor. The other sounds faded until only the pounding of his feet echoed the pounding of his heart. He opened a door and she looked up to find herself in the parlor, a dinner laid before the crackling fire. Her appetite for food had fled, however. She clung to him, afraid to break the spell.

  He continued into her bedchamber and sat them down in the comfortable chair before another fire, her snug in his lap. Just as she had found herself so many times since that first day. The place she seemed destined to be.

  He stroked her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves and drawing them closer together in spirit. She would never let this man go, not this side of hell anyway.

  “Oh, Amiable,” she sighed into his chest. “I am so sorry—”

  One strong finger pressed her mouth closed. “Hush, love. I am sorry, too. Right now, however, is not the time to remember the past. Now is the time for the present and the future.” He pushed straggling wisps of hair from her face, his long, gentle fingers smoothing each strand back into place.

  Even his lightest touch sent fire down into her very soul.

  He continued his ministrations, reaching underneath her cap to remove a long hairpin. One by one, he took them all out, leaving her hair bound only by the sheer weight contained in the frilly lace cap. He smiled the dreamy smile from the second night of their journey. She beamed at him in return.

  With her still clutched in his arms, he carried her to the bed and deposited her on the stepstool. Now taller than him, she used the unaccustomed height to view him from a new perspective. The top of his shiny gold head, pulled back in a simple tie, now came up to her chin. He turned his face up to her, revealing sharp new planes with deep grooves of care around the mouth. Had she put them there? Suddenly, her perch seemed more precarious, vulnerable. She shifted, unsure of herself.

  “You are more beautiful than any other woman I have ever beheld.” His soft tone melted her insides like butter on a hot day. “The only thing that could enhance this perfection is to see it unadorned. All your splendor laid bare for me.” His gaze worshiped even as it pled. He raised his hand to the bodice of her gown. “May I, my love?”

  She nodded, not taking her eyes off his face. His eyes gleamed as he began removing the myriad pins that formed a frustrating barrier to an even more intimate encounter. He took his time at the task, which maddened her. Could he not just rip the clothes from her body? She shifted as she grew impatient to feel his lips once more. Did he do this on purpose? Her breath quickened as the last pin disappeared, and the garment gaped open, revealing her stays and chemise.

  He breathed faster now as well, his gaze fixed on her breasts as they peeked out from the tight material. Under his perusal, they swelled of their own accord, strained against the garment, ached to be freed. He slid his hands up onto her shoulders and grasped the soft material at either side. With an excruciating slowness that drove her wild, he drew the gown off her and dragged it down her body until it pooled at her feet, a blue ring around the footstool.

  He stepped forward, his face eye level with her bosom.

  She panted, tingling all over.

  He untied the neckline of her chemise, the loosened fabric giving way until her breasts threatened to well over top of her tightly laced stays. Enthralled, she stared as his hand twitched the corset, setting just her nipples free to jut proudly above the edge of the garment. The additional pressure of the fabric made them swell and peak, sending a roaring ache down between her thighs.

  Amiable
continued to smile and moved closer, his mouth poised, level with her breasts. She waited in agony, desperate for the feel of his mouth on her again.

  “With such a pretty invitation as this,” he addressed himself to the temptation mere inches from his mouth, “a gentleman can hardly refuse, can he?” He glanced up and the wicked curve to his eyebrows set her blood to pounding. She should grab his head and bury it between her aching breasts.

  A smile of pure devilment shot across his face. He leaned forward until she could feel his warm breath on her oversensitive nipples. He paused—an eternity of exquisite torture—then his tongue flicked out, touched one taut nipple for the briefest second.

  Astonishing white-hot fire shot from the tip to her core and intensified the ache there. She groaned. In response, he stroked his tongue over the other nipple, then blew gently over her wet flesh. She gulped and closed her eyes. Oh, God, how wonderful. She craved more, though she didn’t think he could possibly do—

  He sucked her entire nipple into his mouth.

  “Ahh.” Her whole body flushed. She clutched his head, determined not to let him go. Her legs wanted to buckle. If she didn’t sit down soon…Still, she couldn’t bear the thought of stopping him.

  His hands worked at her back until her stays slid over her hips, down to her feet. Her breasts, now free, disappeared back inside her shift as his mouth left them and she sagged against him, unable to stand a moment longer. He supported her while he stripped her final garment away.

  Amiable grasped her hands and stood back. His gaze feasted on her naked form, taking in every bit of her. He then drew her cap from her head, allowing her blond curls to cascade wildly over shoulders, breasts, down to her hips. His slow exhale and guttural moan told his satisfaction.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pull her hands free, to shield herself from his rapt attention. He shook his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes.

  “Ah, love. You would not deny me the sight I have dreamed of for these past five days? Those dreams were but a pale reflection of the beauty I see before me now. Oh, Juliet. My eyes dazzle.”