He loomed above her. He seemed very large and all the humour had fled from the dark eyes. ‘Antonia? One word from you and I will take a rug to the far side of this barn and stay there all night. I swear I will not touch you until you say I may. But, as a result of this night you are ruined in the sight of Society. You must marry me, you have no choice.’
She understood him well enough, and believed him. If she told him to, he would take himself off and not trouble her. But she loved him, and if she were never to see him again for the rest of her life, she would at least have this night.
Wordlessly Antonia held up her arms to him and he came down to his knees on the soft bed beside her. Marcus ran is his fingers through her hair, tossed aside pins, fanned out her curls against the blanket. ‘You are so beautiful, you take my breath away,’ he murmured, his voice curiously husky. His finger traced the line of her jaw then moved to map the curve of her upper lip.
Antonia shivered in delicious anticipation, shot through with apprehension. Instinctively her teeth fastened on his fingertip and she saw his eyes close momentarily. It seemed the power was not all with him…
She tugged at his shirt and he bent his head so she could pull it over and throw it aside. When she ran her palms flat across the planes of his chest he shuddered. The heat of him shocked her, but even more shocking was the realisation of the effect that her touch had on him.
It was silent in the barn except for his ragged breathing. To her surprise, he did not kiss her, seemed willing to let her set the pace.
Exploring, giving way entirely to instinct, Antonia let her mouth trail kisses down his muscular shoulder before hesitating for only a heart beat as her lips moved across to his chest. They fastened on his nipple and she heard him gasp as her tongue flicked out and over the sensitive tip.
Startled by her own temerity and the effect she was having on him, Antonia stopped, confused, hiding her hot face against him. Marcus caressed her neck, then lifted her towards him so that she was sitting, her brow against his bare shoulder as he unfastened the row of pearl buttons securing her bodice at the back. The gauzy muslin seemed to float from her shoulders and she felt her naked breast against his bare chest, cool against the hot, hard planes.
He rolled her gently over on to her back, deftly freeing the rest of the gown, then unlacing her stays, leaving her in only her stockings and chemise. He got to his feet and Antonia closed her eyes, listening as the rest of his clothes fell to the floor.
Antonia opened her eyes again as she felt his weight shift the hay beside her and found herself looking into his intent, serious face. ‘Antonia, my darling, are you sure?’ For the first time she saw uncertainty in his face.
She was apprehensive, scared a little, but that weighed very little set against her longing and her love for him. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘But kiss me, Marcus.’
That was all he needed to hear, it seemed. His mouth possessed hers, his tongue invading sweetly so that she was scarcely aware at first of his weight on her. His hands moved, caressed, tore gasps and sighs and trembling pleasure from her. When that other totally intimate invasion came, she cried out against his mouth, then she was carried on a tide of sensation with him, taken away by the pleasure of joining, of the rightness of this. That pleasure alarmed her even more than the momentary pain,
but she gave herself up to it, trusting him to guide her.
Then came a moment when Marcus became still above her, his body rigid as he groaned deep in his throat and then he cried out, a shout of triumph as she too arched against him, her cry of ecstasy muffled against his mouth.
Marcus pulled her into the curve of his shoulder as he fell back on to the bed and she let him hold her, holding on to him in turn as though she would never let him go. They slept wrapped in each other’s arms, oblivious to the noises of the night.
They awoke at dawn, Antonia blissfully becoming aware of the movement of Marcus’s mouth on the swell of her breast.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured sleepily as she rolled over to wrap her arms and legs possessively around his naked body. This time it was she who set the pace, urgent in her need for him, revelling in his strength, his power.
At length he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her flushed face. ‘And how do you feel this morning, my beauty?’ he enquired softly.
‘Quite, quite ruined,’ she confessed, praying that he would not say the words that would destroy this dream of happiness. It was a futile hope.
‘And how long are you going to make me wait until we marry?’ Marcus asked as he stood up and reached for his shirt.
Antonia was struck silent by seeing him standing there, naked, so close, so real, so very masculine. Then she reached for her chemise. Somehow she felt the need for clothes before she could continue this.
‘l am not going to marry you,’ she said as she stood, her back to him for Marcus to fasten the ties of her stays.
His lips grazed down her nape. ‘Tease.’
‘No, I mean it.’ She stepped away and turned to face him. ‘l never said I would marry you.’
‘But you have no choice.’ He gestured to the rumpled hay bed with its eloquent impression of two bodies.
‘I will not marry you. If anyone realises that we have been here all night, then yes, I am ruined. But I will have to live with that.’
‘And if you are with child?’ he demanded harshly.
Antonia felt herself grow pale. The thought had never entered her mind, she had been so swept along by her love for him. Her nails bit into her palms as she regained her self-control. She almost capitulated then, but at no time had he told her that he loved her, needed her, could not live without her. She would not marry him without that declaration of love, simply because he desired her and now felt guilt.
All his words of tenderness were occasioned by their lovemaking, none of them had spoken of a shared future.
‘If that is the case, I shall raise the child myself as others have done before me.’