"Oh, Derek..." she breathed, and threw her arms around him.
"You know that you're marrying me," he said in what should have been a questioning tone, but he was confident, and it sounded more like a truth. When she leaned back and looked at him, he said, "I know you've got to feel it as much as I do, that this is right. Nicole, we are inevitable."
Nicole knew it, too. When he said they would be married, it was as if a piece of a puzzle had just shifted into place.
He must have mistaken her silence, because he declared, "I will say this once--you don't want to marry one of those lordlings. I cannot even begin to express the misery a bad union can make. You must believe me, because I've experienced it."
She looked deeply into his eyes, so grave with warning. How much he must have suffered for the last few years! Could she trust him? He'd hurt her before. But when she looked into his eyes, she believed that he loved her, even though he'd never told her so. She was about to kiss him in assurance, when she recalled his dictatorial conduct this morning.
They were going to have to establish some rules.
She withdrew from him and assumed her best businesslike demeanor. In a brisk tone she announced, "I will warn you, I won't be a conventional bride."
His expression turned serious as well. "I won't be a conventional husband."
"I won't abide your being unfaithful."
"I won't be unfaithful, and I won't abide it in you, either."
She gave him a quick that's settled nod, then said, "I don't want to live in England."
He smiled thinly. "I must. Since I'm not letting you go, so shall you." When she nibbled her lip, he said, "We can visit America as often as you like, but I believe you would like living at my estate, Whitestone. And your roots are here as well."
She didn't like his reasoning, but really, where else would they live? And it would be easier to help out her father and Maria from England.
"I don't want to have a dozen children," she announced with a tilt of her head. "Two would be nice, I think."
He paused, then said, "Agreed for now. But I reserve the right to ask you again after we've had our first child."
Our first child. Derek's child. "Agreed." This was too easy. "I want my father always to be welcome in our home, as well as Maria and Chancey."
"Chancey and Maria will be--" Derek hedged.
"Sutherland..." she cut in warningly. God, but her father would kill her when he found out whom she'd married.
"He'll be...welcome."
That was good enough for now, she supposed, and gave him a smile in conclusion.
A hungry look fired in his eyes. She read the desire in them just before he touched his lips to hers. She felt the desire in him when he slipped his tongue in to tease her to instant arousal, her breaths halting, her hands seeking. He smiled against her lips, and she pulled away. "What is it?"
"You, Nicole," he said, running his hand over her hair and face, "are a treasure."
She smiled, not knowing what prompted him to say that. His lips sought hers once more.
He tugged at the bodice of her gown to expose her breasts. "What are you doing?" she murmured.
"I'm making love to you."
She pulled back and frowned. "You can't make love to me in a carriage."
"Let me convince you that I can," he uttered in a low, determined voice that stroked her inside.
"I can't make love to you here, now." She could hear the realization in her tone.
"Don't pretend that you don't want me as much as I want you," he said, an edge in his voice.
"Of course I do," she said in exasperation, and he grinned. "But making love to you outside of marriage was my first mistake with you--I won't make it again," she finished, her voice becoming more determined with each word.
Derek grabbed her hand and spread it over the front of his trousers, over his rigid flesh. "Do you feel this?" he asked in a pained tone. "Four months without being inside you. Do you feel how much I need you?"
She melted with heat and want, only a shred of her determination remaining. It was just enough. "Don't do this, Derek. I want to make a fresh start with you--"
At once, his big hands were grasping her waist, pulling her off the seat. Part of her grew outraged while another became excited by the low, growling sound he made. Then his hands released her. Her eyes opened. She was sitting on the opposite side of the carriage.
"It seems I can deny you nothing," he told her evenly, though his face looked tight with strain and his hands were clenched.
She began a conversation, mainly to keep her mind off the memory of her hand caressing his straining trouser front. After a time, he relaxed and joined in. Before long, she was cuddled on his lap, with him stroking her hair. Hours rolled by as they talked about their likes and dislikes, their desire for a family. He asked her question after question about her childhood and life.
He was so attentive, just as he'd been during their time in Sydney, and she easily recollected all the wonderful times they'd had. She also recollected the nights--the wild, hot nights. To mask her discomfiture, she asked, "Why are you suddenly so interested?"
He tucked a curl behind her ear. "Before, part of me didn't want to get to know you better. I think I knew I wouldn't want to let you go."
She cast him a lazy grin. He loved her. He might not vocalize it, but he did.
With a returning smile, he asked, "Explain to me, please, how a young sailor with an uncanny knack for navigation can also be a future marchioness?"
"I was expected to return to England and follow in my grandmother's footsteps, but I inveigled Father into keeping me with him and letting me sail. That is, until I was eighteen and ran out of ammunition," she admitted with a frown. "During the time I was at sea, Grandmother used her influence to spread that story about me to save my reputation."
"I thought the fear of traveling was a classic touch."
"So did I!" She giggled. "It was quite funny when I told Grandmother you knew the truth. That night, she and Chapman paced the floors, wondering what to do, until she hit on an idea."
"And what was that?"
" 'Chapman,'" Nicole grated, imitating her grandmother's scratchy voice perfectly, " 'perhaps we should kill him.' "
After five days of travel and five nights of separate rooms in roadside inns, neither Derek nor Nicole was interested in celebrating their nuptials in any way but one. Within minutes after the ceremony, they were back in their room, so quickly that tears lingered in her eyes from Derek's solemn, serious tone when he promised himself to her. After they'd signed their names together, that fierce, elemental look flashed in his eyes, and they'd all but ignored the congratulatory wishes.
His passion easily ignited her own. As soon as the door to their room at the inn closed, without a word they assailed each other. She grabbed at his clothes, fighting buttons, filling her fists with his shirt, occasionally twisting her arms behind her to help him with her intricately wrought dress.
"To hell with this," he growled at her resisting clothing, ripping through enough of her bodice to get his lips on her breasts.
"Derek," she said his name like a prayer, with the first pull on her nipple.
"God, I've missed you," he murmured, his breath hot against her damp breast, before thoroughly attending to the other. "I can't believe you're here. With me."
"Oh, Derek...I want you inside me," she whimpered. "Now, can we now?"
He groaned low in his throat as his hand dove beneath her dress and slid up her stockings. Running his fingers up her thigh, he grasped the flimsy material barring him and ripped that away as well. She felt his returning hand discover her moist and hot, his fingers seeming to luxuriate in her.
"Please..." she moaned.
Shoving up her skirts, he moved her against the wall and hastily freed himself. Her hand shot out to grip his stiff flesh springing forth, curving around the shaft to pull him to her. Just as she was about to guide him in, he put his hand tight over hers and move
d the head up and down against her wetness. Up and down once, twice. She keened his name as ecstasy spiked through her, her eyes flashing open in surprise at her swift response.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and plunged into her before she'd even stopped convulsing. "You drive me mad," he ground out as he clenched her hips. "For months I ached for you," he rasped against her lips.
Once more she called his name; as he slammed into her again and again, she never took the ease of a climax, only continued straining toward something even more consuming.
Each time he sank into her, she flew closer...too intense, nearing pain. She tried to hold on. Tried to see to his pleasure with clasping, frantic hands. In that final instant when he'd grown too large inside her, when the low rumbling broke from his throat, she shattered, feeling only rapture and Derek pouring hotly into her.
Chapter 29
T hough they'd spent three days in Scotland, in bed, neither Derek nor Nicole wanted to leave the shelter of their room and return to reality. Outside, rain spilled down in sheets, but inside they were warm, basking in firelight and a haze of contentment.
"Being a husband," Derek said as he lazily skimmed the backs of his fingers up her thighs, "is quite easy."
"You think so?" she sighed. She was languid, relaxed as she hadn't been since her last time in his bed. She'd needed him, needed what only he could give her. She lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, eating grapes from his hand.
"With the right wife," he said with a grin. "I don't suppose you have any idea what this"--he ran a finger up her cleavage--"or this"--he palmed her uncovered derriere--"is doing to your ancient husband?"