Pleasure burst inside his chest. “In truth, I cannot recall an encounter with her. She could have been the lady that tried to trap me in the conservatory at Lady Peckerham’s ball, or the one who fainted in my arms at Lady Tunstall’s Picnic, or the one who invaded my rooms at Lady Burrell’s garden party. Many debutantes and even seasoned ladies have tried to compromise me into marriage.”
“And you’ve deftly extricated yourself,” she said with amusement. “I’m sorry you had to endure that. You deserve to be loved for the man you are, not
your title.”
Like I do, lingered in the air, and he wondered why she did not say the words he longed to hear. Was it that she was still uncertain? Might it be that she did not regard him with the same sentiments? Christopher scowled at the unusual press of uncertainty he felt.
“I must go before the dawn breaks.”
He shifted, slipping her underneath him, and cradling his weight between her thighs. A flush of want dusted her skin, accentuating the beauty of her large gray eyes, high, delicate cheekbones, and sweetly pouting lips. Anticipation built along with a craving that surpassed even the need to be in her body. He wanted her to trust him and to love him.
“Christopher?”
“Do you love me?”
She jolted and then stilled. Pippa stared at him for an impossibly long time. He realized he was holding his breath as he awaited her answer.
“I fear I do,” she said softly, yet her voice still quivered with uncertainty.
“Let it not be a fear because you own my heart, Pippa. Let me own yours too.”
She fisted his hair in her hands and dragged his mouth against hers.
He shifted, slipping his hand between the juncture of her thighs, feeling her most intimate spot. Her quim was wet and hot. Holding her gaze, he fisted the length of his cock and nudged it at her entrance. His length hardened, every muscle taut, aching, desperate to be within her again. Her breathing fractured and the carnal creature within her peered up at him with sensual anticipation.
Christopher pushed into her tight, wet sheath without releasing her from his gaze. Pippa’s urgent gasp blended with his groan as he sank to the hilt. He withdrew and snapped his hips deep and hard. She gave a little scream, a cry of pure pleasure, her muscles tightening even further over his cock.
His balls tightened at the incredible pleasure.
“Touch me. I love it when you touch me.” For when she did, it was as if she treasured each moment and would not let him go.
“Hold me, Pippa,” he murmured at her ear, nipping it gently. “This ride is going to be rough.”
She looped her hands around his neck and held on. And he made love with her, rough and also gentle, peppering her with praises. His Pippa responded wantonly to every touch, and illicit praises of the things he would eventually do with her—erotic spanking of her lush buttocks, nipples, and quim, mounting her from behind and fucking her deep and long, tying her to his bed with his cravat as he enslaved them to pleasure. Christopher did not hold back. Sharing his dark lustful heart with the woman he loved. And Pippa responded with burning flames of sensuality, screaming her release, dragging his seed from him long before he was ready.
Trembling from the shocking aftermath of such delirious pleasure, he twisted, so she tumbled atop him. Without a doubt, that had been the most spectacular climax of his life. She rested against his chest, panting heavily, desperately trying to catch her breath. He dragged her up until she was lying in the crook of his arm and lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her deeply, and thoroughly.
When they broke apart, she giggled, and the pure joy in the sound pulled a smile to his lips. She curled into him to get comfortable, and a few moments later gentle snoring sounded. He held her to him, tighter than necessary. Christopher must remember to inform her she snored. He grinned, thinking how adorable her outrage would be, and then he too succumbed to the pull of sleep.
A couple of hours later, Christopher stretched, sliding his hand across the cushions and pillows searching for his Pippa. He snapped his eyes open when he did not encounter her curvy body. Scanning the semi-dark library, for the sun was valiantly peeking through the heavy drapes, he accepted that she had somehow slipped away while he slept.
Impressive. For their activities for the night had damn near killed him. They ate, they laughed, they even had some meaningful conversation other times silly and filled with laughter. But then they had made love three times, and he’d reminded himself of her innocence several times to slow the pangs of hunger which had claimed his soul. He had been insatiable with her, and she had matched his passion. Never had he thought he would be this happy at the thought of marriage and starting a family. But he could see a future with Pippa, one bright and beautiful, filled with laughter, loving, and children. A rueful smile curved his lips before it spread into a full grin. She had said yes. Pippa Cavanaugh would be his duchess.
He pushed from the mound of cushions he had made into their bed some time through the night and tugged on his trousers. A quick glance at the clock perched on the mantle revealed it to be eight in the morning. The household would already be awake. How Pippa had snuck away without waking him, he had no damn idea.
A knock sounded on the door, and the handle was tested. Christopher walked over and turned the key, so the door could be open. His butler, Jenkins, entered, a look of comical dismay entering his eyes at the disarray before he masked his reaction like a properly trained butler should.
“Beg pardon, Your Grace. Your mother and sisters are here,” Jenkins said with grave dignity.
Christopher frowned. While he was close with his sisters and mother, it was not their way to descend upon him without advance notice. To do otherwise would be too improper.
"A pot of tea and toast, Jenkins. Inform them I will see them in the drawing room in about thirty minutes. Also, have one of the maids tend to the library immediately.”
The butler bowed and withdrew.
Christopher wasted no time heading to his chamber and calling for a quick bath. When he entered the drawing room, he was impeccably dressed in a tan-colored riding breeches with knee-high boots, a matching tan jacket, a navy blue waistcoat, and an expertly tied cravat. He'd already predicted an invigorating ride was what he'd need in Hyde Park after facing his meddlesome family.
He paused at the somber atmosphere in the drawing room. His mother had evidently been crying, and Dear God, even his unflappable Selina appeared out of sorts. Amelia was seated on the sofa by the window tapping her foot quite anxiously. Even more telling, the pot of tea and morning edibles remained untouched.