How to Marry a Marquis

Chapter 17

The night was hung with magic. The moon glowed bright, the air was dusted with the delicate scent of wildflowers, and the wind was a romantic whisper against the skin.

Elizabeth thought she must be a princess. The woman tearing across the field, hair streaming like a golden ribbon, could not be plain and ordinary Elizabeth Hotchkiss. For one night, she was transformed. For one night, her heart held no worries, no burdens. She was bathed in laughter and passion, enveloped by pure joy.

Hand in hand, they ran. Danbury House dipped out of sight, although the sounds of the party still drifted through the air. The trees around them grew more dense, and finally James stopped, his breathing heavy from exertion and excitement.

"Oh, my goodness," Elizabeth gasped, nearly crashing into him. "I haven't run so fast since-"

His arms snaked around her, and her breath stopped. "Kiss me," he ordered.

Elizabeth was lost to the night's enchantment, and any hesitations she might have had, any notions of what was proper and what was scandal, melted away. She arched her neck, offering him her lips, and he took them, his mouth capturing hers in the sweetest mix of tenderness and primitive need.

"I won't take you. Not now-not yet," he vowed against her skin. "But let me love you."

Elizabeth didn't know what he meant, but her blood ran hot and fast in her veins, and she could deny him nothing. She looked up, saw the fire in his chocolate eyes, and made her decision. "Love me," she whispered. "I trust you."

James's fingers trembled as he brought them reverently to the smooth skin of her temples. Her hair was golden silk beneath his fingers, and she looked so achingly small and fragile beneath his large, suddenly awkward hands. He could break her, he realized. She was tiny and fine, and his to protect. "I'll be gentle," he whispered, barely recognizing his own voice. "I will never hurt you. Never."

She trusted him. It was a powerful, soul-changing gift.

He let his fingers trail lightly down the planes of her cheeks to the bare skin of her neck. Her costume was like nothing she'd worn before, teasing him with the hint of her bare shoulders, threatening to slip over and off with just the slightest nudge. He could hook his finger around the soft white fabric and reveal one delicate shoulder, and then the other, and then he could pull the gown ever downward, baring her-

Blood pooled in his groin. Good God, if he was growing this hard just thinking about undressing her, what the hell was going to happen when he actually had her naked and willing in his arms? How would he ever manage to make love to her with the gentleness and care she deserved?

His breath burning in his lungs, he slowly slid her gown over one shoulder, never taking his eyes off the skin he bared. She glowed in the moonlight like the rarest pearl, and when he lowered his head to nuzzle the warm, seductive curve where her neck met her shoulder, it was like coming home.

As he kissed her, his hand worked the same magic to the other side of her dress, and he heard her gasp as the fabric inched down, revealing the gentle swell of the tops of her breasts. She murmured something-he thought it might be his name-but she didn't say no, and so he undid the single button nestled between her breasts, loosening the neckline of her dress just enough to allow it to fall away.

Her hands rose up to cover herself, but he caught them in his and held them away as he leaned forward to press one feather-light kiss on her lips. "You're beautiful," he whispered, the heat of his voice entering her mouth. "So beautiful."

Still holding both her hands in one of his, he reached out and gently cupped one of her breasts, allowing it to fill his palm. She was surprisingly lush and full, and he could not stop his groan of pleasure as he felt her nipple pucker in the hollow of his palm.

He looked up at her face, needing to see her expression, needing to know that she loved his touch. Her lips were parted and glistening as if she had just wet them with her tongue. Her eyes were dazed and unfocused, and her breath was coming in tiny fast gasps.

He slid one of his hands to cup her bottom, supporting her as they sank to the ground. The grass was a soft, cool carpet beneath them, Elizabeth's hair spreading out like a priceless golden fan. James just stared at her for a moment, murmuring a soft thanks to whatever god had led him to this moment, and then he lowered his head to her breast, making love to her with his mouth.

Elizabeth let out a startled "Oh!" as his lips closed around her nipple. His breath felt hot on her breast, and her blood felt hot beneath it. Her body became utterly foreign, feeling almost as if she were growing too big for her skin. She was overcome by the need to move, to point her toes and rub the soles against the grass, to flex her hands and then sink them into his thick brown hair.

She arched her back beneath him, consumed by some passionate devil urging her to reach for whatever it was he was offering. "James," she gasped, and then she whispered it again. His name was the only word that came to her lips, and it sounded like a plea and a prayer.

Her dress had been pulled down as far as it could go, and so one of his hands moved to her leg, stealing over her calf before sliding up to the outside of her knee. And then, so slowly she ached from the anticipation, his hand slid over her knee to squeeze the soft skin of her lower thigh.

His name passed over her lips again, but his mouth was on hers, and so her words were lost in his kiss. His hand traveled farther along her leg, moving to the softer skin of her inner thigh. She stiffened, sensing that she was nearing the edge of something, traveling to some secret place from which there was no return.

James lifted his head to look at her. She had to blink several times before she could even focus on his beloved features, and then, a rakish smile adorning his lips, he asked, "More?"

Heaven help her, she nodded, and she saw his smile widen just before his mouth lowered to the underside of her chin, nudging it up until his lips could explore the entire expanse of her neck.

And then his hand moved higher.

He was nearly at the top of her thigh now, so close to the very core of her privacy and womanhood. The proximity was unnerving, and her legs began to tremble in anticipation.

"Trust me," he whispered. "Just trust me. I'll make this good for you. I promise."

Her trembling didn't stop, but her legs parted slightly, allowing him to settle his body between her thighs. She hadn't realized until that moment that he had been holding himself away from her, using his powerful arms to support his weight.

But all of that changed as he lowered his body onto hers. The weight of him was thrilling, the length, the heat. He was so much larger than she; she'd never understood the full extent of his power and strength until it was pressed up so intimately against her.

His hand spanned the entire breadth of her thigh, his thumb coming dangerously close to the curls shielding her womanhood. He squeezed, he teased.

And then he touched her.

Elizabeth was completely unprepared for the bolt of pure electricity that shot up her spine. She'd never known she could feel so hot, so tingly, so desperate for the touch of another human being.

His fingers tickled her until she was certain she could take no more, and then he did it some more. His hot breath teased her ear until she was certain it would burn right off, and then he kept on whispering-words of love and words of passion. Every time she was certain she had reached her limit, he lifted her higher, rushing her to a new level of passion.

She tore at the grass, afraid that if she wrapped her arms around James she'd rend his shirt in two. But then, as his finger slid into her, he whispered, "Touch me."

Tentatively, afraid of her own passion, she brought her hands to the collar of his shirt. The top button was undone; the second quickly slipped through its loophole in her haste to touch his skin.

"My God, Elizabeth," he gasped. "You kill me."

She stopped, her eyes flying to his.

"No," he said, laughing despite himself. "That's good."

"Are you sure? Because- Ohhhhhhhhh!"

She had no idea what he did, how exactly he moved his fingers, but the pressure that had been building within her suddenly exploded. Her body tensed, then arched, then shook, and when she finally shuddered to the ground, she was certain she must be in a thousand pieces.

"Oh, James," she sighed. "You make me feel so good inside."

His body was still hard as a rock, and he was tense with desire that he knew must go unfulfilled that night. His arms began to quiver under the weight of his body, so he rolled onto his side, fitting himself alongside her on the grass. He propped his head up on one elbow, taking in the exquisite sight of her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and he was certain he'd never seen anything quite as beautiful in his life.

"There is so much I need to tell you," he whispered, smoothing her hair away from his forehead.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open. "What?"

"Tomorrow," he promised, gently drawing up her bodice. It seemed a shame to cover such perfect beauty, but he knew she was still self-conscious about her nakedness. Or at least she would be, once she remembered that she was naked.

She blushed, proving his theory that, in the aftermath of passion, she had forgotten her undressed state. “Why can't you tell me tonight?" she asked.

It was a good question. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out his true identity and ask her to marry him, but something was holding him back. He was only going to propose marriage once in his life, and he wanted it to be perfect. He had never dreamed he'd find a woman who so totally captured his soul. She deserved roses and diamonds, and him on bended knee.

And he felt he owed it to Agatha to tell her that he was ending his charade before he actually ended it.

"Tomorrow," he promised again. "Tomorrow."

That seemed to satisfy her, for she sighed and sat up. "I suppose we must be getting back."

He shrugged and grinned. "I have no pressing appointments."

That earned him a friendly scowl. “Yes, but I am expected. Lady Danbury spent all week nagging me to attend her masquerade. If I do not make an appearance, I will never hear the end of it." She shot him a wry, sideways sort of look. "She is so close to driving me mad as it is. An endless lecture about my not attending is likely to send me right over the edge."

"Yes," James murmured, "she is rather handy with guilt."

"Why don't you come with me?" Elizabeth asked.

The very worst of ideas. Any number of people might recognize him. "I'd love to," he lied, "but I cannot."

"Why?"

"Er, I'm quite dusty from the road, and-"

"We'll brush you off."

"I have no costume."

"Bah! Half the men refuse to wear costumes. I'm certain we can find you a mask."

In desperation, he blurted out, "I simply cannot mix among people in my current state."

That caused her to snap her mouth shut on whatever reply she'd been forming. After several seconds of awkward silence, she finally asked, "What state do you mean?''

James groaned. Had no one explained the workings of men and women to her? Probably not. Her mother had died when she was only eighteen, and he found it difficult to imagine his aunt taking on the delicate task. He looked over at Elizabeth. Her eyes were expectant. "I don't suppose you'll let me tell you that I'd like to jump in a lake and leave it at that," he said.

She shook her head.

"I didn't think so," he muttered.

"You didn't… ah…"

He jumped on her words. "Exactly! I didn't."

"The problem," she said, not meeting his eyes, "is that I'm not precisely certain what you didn't do."

"I'll show you later," he promised. "God help me, if I don't show you later, I'll be dead before the month is out."

"A whole month?"

A month? Was he insane? He was going to have to get a special license. "A week. Definitely a week."

"I see."

"No, you don't. But you will."

Elizabeth coughed and blushed. "Whatever it is you're talking about," she mumbled, "I have a feeling it's rather naughty."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "You're still a virgin, Elizabeth. And I'm frustrated as hell."

"Oh! I…" She smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."

"I'd tell you it was no trouble at all," he said, taking her arm, "except that would be a blatant lie."

"And I suppose," she added mischievously, "that you would also be lying if you said it was your pleasure."

"That would be a huge lie. Of proportions immense."

She laughed.

"If you don't start according me the proper respect," he muttered, "I may have to toss you in the lake along with me."

"Surely you can take a bit of teasing."

"I rather think I've taken all the teasing my body can stand already this evening."

She let out another peal of giggles. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I don't mean to laugh at you, but-"

"Yes, you do." He tried not to grin, but he wasn't successful.

"All right, yes, I do, but it's only because^-" She stopped walking and reached up to touch his beloved face. "It's only because you make me so happy and free. I cannot remember the last time I felt so able to simply laugh."

"What about when you're with your family?" he asked. "I know you adore them."

"I do. But even when we are laughing and joking and having the loveliest of times, there is always a cloud hanging over me, constantly reminding me that it all could be taken away. That it all would be taken away the moment I found myself unable to support them."

"You will never have to worry about that again," he said, his voice a fierce vow. "Never."

"Oh, James," she said wistfully. "You're very sweet to say so, but I don't see how you can-"

"You'll have to trust me," he interrupted. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Besides, I thought you said that when you were with me that pesky gray cloud disappeared."

"When I'm with you I forget about my worries, but that doesn't mean they're gone."

He patted her hand. “I may surprise you yet, Elizabeth Hotchkiss."

They walked toward the house in companionable silence. As they drew near, the sounds of the party grew louder-music, mixed with chatter, and the occasional roar of raucous laughter.

"It sounds like quite a crush," Elizabeth commented.

"Lady Danbury would accept no less," James replied. He glanced at the stately stone mansion, which had come into view. Guests had spilled out onto the lawn, and he knew he was going to have to make his exit immediately. "Elizabeth," he said, "I must leave now, but I will call upon you tomorrow."

"No, please let's stay." She smiled up at him, her dark blue eyes heartbreakingly huge. "We've never danced." "I promise you that we shall." He kept his eye on the closest members of the crowd. He didn't see anyone he knew, but one could never be too careful. "I'll find you a mask, if that's your worry." "No, Elizabeth, I just can't. You must accept that." She frowned. "I don't see why you must-" "It's simply the way it must be. I- Ooof!" Something very large and padded crashed into James's back. Clearly they were not quite as far from the crowds as he'd thought. He turned around to dress down the clumsy partygoer-

And found himself staring straight into the aquamarine eyes of Caroline Ravenscroft.

Elizabeth watched the scene that unfolded with an increasing sense of disbelief and horror.

"James?" Caroline asked, her eyes growing round with delight. "Oh, James! It's so lovely to see you!"

Elizabeth's eyes flew from James to Caroline, trying to figure out how these two people knew each other. If Caroline knew James, surely she would have known he was the estate manager Elizabeth had mentioned earlier that evening.

"Caroline," James responded, his voice impossibly tight.

Caroline tried to throw her arms around him, but her pumpkin costume rendered hugs difficult. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "Blake and I are most displeased. He has been trying to reach you for- Elizabeth?"

James froze. "How do you know Elizabeth?" he asked, his words slow and careful.

"We met this evening," Caroline replied, giving him a dismissive wave before turning to her new best friend. "Elizabeth, I have been looking for you all night. Where did you disappear to? And how do you know James?"

"I-I-" Elizabeth couldn't get the words out, couldn't possibly verbalize what was becoming increasingly obvious.

"When did you meet Elizabeth?" Caroline flipped around to face James, her light brown braid clipping him in the shoulder. “I told her about you this afternoon and she said she didn't know you."

"You told me about him?" Elizabeth whispered. "No, you didn't. You didn't mention James. The only person you told me about was-''

"James," Caroline cut in. "The Marquis of Riverdale."

"No," Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, her mind suddenly filled with images of a little red book and endless edicts. HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS. No, it was impossible. "This isn't-"

Caroline turned to James. "James?" Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she had unwittingly destroyed a secret. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I never dreamed you would be working in disguise here at Danbury House. You told me you were through with all that."

"With all what?" Elizabeth asked, her voice slightly shrill.

"This isn't about the War Office," James bit off.

"What, then?" Caroline asked.

"The Marquis of Riverdale?" Elizabeth echoed. "You're a marquis?"

"Elizabeth," James said, all but ignoring Caroline. "Give me a moment to explain."

A marquis. James was a marquis. And he must have been laughing at her for weeks. "You bastard," she hissed. And then, using every boxing lesson he'd ever given her, plus quite a bit of sheer instinct, she drew back her right arm and swung.

James stumbled. Caroline shrieked. Elizabeth stalked away.

"Elizabeth!" James boomed, striding after her. "Get back here this instant. You will listen to me."

His hand closed around her elbow. "Let go of me!" she cried out.

"Not until you listen to me."

"Oh, you must have had so much fun with me," she choked out. "So much fun pretending to teach me how to marry a marquis. You bastard. You filthy bastard."

He nearly flinched at the venom in her voice. "Elizabeth, I never once-"

"Did you laugh about me with your friends? Did you laugh about the poor little lady's companion who thought she might be able to marry a marquis?''

"Elizabeth, I had my reasons for keeping my identity a secret. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Don't patronize me," she spat out, trying to yank her arm free of his grip. "Don't ever even speak to me again."

"I will not let you run off without hearing me out."

"And I let you touch me," she whispered, her horror showing clearly on her face. "I let you touch me and it was all a lie."

He caught hold of her other arm and pulled her up against him until her breasts were flattened against his ribs. "Don't you ever," he hissed, "call that a lie."

"Then what was it? You don't love me. You don't even respect me enough to tell me who you are."

"You know that's not true." He looked up and saw that a small crowd had begun to form near Caroline, who was still standing openmouthed about ten yards away. "Come with me," he ordered, pulling her around the corner of Danbury House. "We'll discuss this in private."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She dug her heels in, but she was no match for his greater strength. "I'm going home, and if you ever attempt to speak with me again, I shall not answer to the consequences."

"Elizabeth, you are being irrational."

She snapped. Whether it was his voice or his words, she never knew, but she just snapped. "Don't you tell me what I am!" she yelled, pounding her fists against his chest. "Don't you tell me anything!"

James just stood there, letting her hit him. He stood so still that eventually her arms, sensing no resistance, had to stop.

She pulled away, her body wracked by deep and violent breaths as she stared up at his face. "I hate you," she said in a low voice.

He said nothing.

"You have no idea what you've done," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "You don't even think you've done anything wrong."

"Elizabeth." He'd never dreamed it could take such strength just to call forward one simple word.

Her eyes grew faintly pitying, as if she'd suddenly realized that he must be beneath her, that he would never be worthy of her love and respect. "I'm going home. You may inform Lady Danbury that I have resigned."

"You can't resign."

"And why not?"

"She needs you. And you need the-"

"The money?" she spat out. "Is that what you were going to say?"

He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he knew she could see his answer in his eyes.

"There are some things I won't do for money," she told him, "and if you think I'm going to come back here and work for your aunt- Oh, my God!" she gasped, as if just realizing what she'd said. "She's your aunt. She must have known. How could she do this to me?''

"Agatha had no knowledge of what was happening between us. Whatever blame you choose to assign, none can be heaped upon her shoulders."

"I trusted her," she whispered. "She was like a mother to me. Why would she let this happen?"

"James? Elizabeth?"

They both turned to see a very tentative pumpkin poking her head around the corner, followed by a somewhat irritable black-haired pirate, who was waving his arms in the opposite direction, yelling, "Go away! All of you! There is nothing to see."

"This is not a good time, Caroline," James said, his words clipped.

"Actually," Caroline said softly, "I fear it might be just the right time. Perhaps we could all adjourn inside? Somewhere private?"

Blake Ravenscroft, Caroline's husband and James's best friend, stepped forward. "She's right, James. Gossip is already flying. Half the party is going to be creeping around this corner within minutes."

Caroline nodded. "I'm afraid there is going to be a terrible scandal."

"I'm sure there already is one," Elizabeth retorted.

"Not that I care. I'm sure I will never see any of these people again."

James felt his fingernails bite into his palms. He was getting heartily sick of Elizabeth's stubbornness. Not once had she given him the opportunity to state his case. What was all that nonsense she'd said about trusting him? If she'd really trusted him, she might have let him get a word in edgewise.

"You will see these people again," he said in a dangerous voice.

"Oh, and when would that be?" she taunted. "I'm not of your ilk, as you have so capably-if rather underhandedly-pointed out."

"No," he said softly, "you're better."

That startled her into silence. Her mouth trembled, and her voice shook when she finally said, "No. You can't do this. What you did is unforgivable, and you can't use sweet words as absolution."

James gritted his teeth and took a step toward her, heedless of the way Caroline and Blake were gaping at him. "I will give you one day to get over your anger, Elizabeth. You have until this time tomorrow."

"And then what happens?"

His eyes grew hot as he leaned forward, purposefully intimidating her with his size. "And then you marry me."