Candice Hern (32 page)

"I never thought you could want me like this," she said. "I am not like all those other women you've had. I don't have the sort of voluptuous body you always seemed to admire."

He cupped her face in his hands. "I never wanted your body." He felt her stiffen and knew he'd wounded her vanity. "I wanted
all
of you. Not only your beautiful body, but your heart and soul as well."

"Oh, Adam."

"I love you, Marianne. Let me show you how much."

He laid her gently on the bed and began a full exploration of her body with his lips and tongue and hands. And Marianne was not passive. She made her own explorations and discoveries.

He loved her breasts and loved the way she cried out when he kissed them. His lips made a slow path down her abdomen to her belly and lower.

"I seem to recall," he whispered hoarsely, "that you particularly enjoyed this."

"Oh, God, yes!" she cried as his tongue stroked the most sensitive nub of her sex. He held on to her hips as she arched and bucked and finally shuddered beneath him.

And at the precise moment of her breaking point, he slid up her body and pressed his erection against her throbbing sex. He waited a moment, until she opened her eyes and looked into his.

"I love you, Marianne." He braced up on his forearms on either side of her, but before he could move, she reached down, found him, and guided him sweetly home.

After relishing their joining for a long moment, he set up a strong rhythm of deep, slow strokes. Then faster and faster until they both cried out, one after the other, in a wave of shared ecstasy.

Afterward, they lay quietly in each other's arms, sharing tender kisses and lingering looks.

"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked.

"Since you have introduced me to such pleasure, I am tempted to forgive you."

"I have been very selfish. I never wanted anyone else to have you."

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. "Are you to blame for all those other men who disappointed me in one way or another?"

He gave a shamefaced grin. "None of them would have suited you."

"Was Lord Hopwood's estate truly threatened by flooding?"

"I have no idea. It might have been. I only mentioned the possibility to him. Anything is possible during heavy rains."

"And Mr. Fitzwilliam with his wretched gardenias?""Did he send gardenias? How odd. I could have sworn I recommended lilies."

"And Sir Arthur Denney's gruesome cockfighting tales? Was that your doing?"

"I might have mentioned that David and I enjoyed a good sporting event. He must have thought I said
Mrs
. Nesbitt, the fool."

"And Sidney Gilchrist? What did you do to him? He was attentive one day then avoiding me like the pox the next."

"Let's just say he did not feel he could measure up to the task."

Marianne burst into laughter. "Oh, Adam, how could you?"

"I was made crazy by my love for you. I was driven quite mad with visions of you naked like this with some other man."

"And what of Lord Julian? Did you engineer that accident?"

Adam sobered and frowned. "I am more sorry for that than you will ever know. I only meant to keep him up late and away from your bed as long as possible. I promise you I never meant to hurt him."

"I was told he tripped and fell."

"Over my leg."

"Adam!"

"It was an accident. Truly it was. I never set out to cause him any physical harm. I was devastated by what happened."

Even so, they laughed together over poor Lord Julian's plight, and blessed the serendipity of that fall, for it brought Adam and Marianne together at last.

"You truly are incorrigible," she said. "But how could a woman not be impressed by a man who goes to such lengths to keep other men away from her? Such a man would have to be either completely mad or in love."

"And I am both. Madly in love with you. When I came to you that day, bearing my pile of lilies, I had a wonderful speech I'd rehearsed, but you pretended not to hear."

"I heard every word."

"You said you could not marry anyone until you discovered the identity of your secret lover. Well, you know who it was. You knew all along, you wretch. Does that mean you are now ready to consider marriage? I procured a special license."

She gave a little start. "You have a license?"

"Shall I get down on one knee, my love?"

She grew silent, and a sudden pang of uncertainty gripped his insides.

"I thought you understood," she said, sitting up against a pile of pillows, the sheet covering her breasts. "I do not wish to marry again. I only wanted ... this."

Adam flung off the covers and walked to the end of the bed. "Only this?" His arm swept over the bed. His voice rose in anger. "But you cannot have 'only this' from me."

"What do you mean? You've known all along that I don't mean to marry again."

"That was before ...
this
." He made a sweeping gesture over the bed again.

"It doesn't change anything," she said in a small voice. "I wanted a lover, that's all. And you said you wanted to be that lover. I thought you understood. I don't want another husband. I never have."

His heart dropped all the way down into his gut, where it twisted and coiled into a knot of cold anger. "Because I can never replace your precious David."

She did not answer, but she did not have to.

"Even though he never gave you what I just gave you? Even though he was never able to make you cry out in pleasure like I can? Even though I love you as much as he ever did? Still, I am not good enough to replace him?"

"It has nothing to do with being good enough. It's just ... I can't. I'm sorry, Adam."

Hot anger seared the back of his throat so he could barely swallow. His voice came out coarse and raspy. "And so this is all you'll ever want from me? To be your lover?"

"Well ... yes. And my friend, too, of course."

"Damn it all to hell." Adam rooted about for his clothes and began to dress. "You haven't figured it out yet, have you, Marianne? You can't just have a lover. You will never be the sort of woman who has a simple affair."

"Why do you keep saying that? Of course I am that sort of woman. It would not be precisely simple with you, of course, but —"

"But you want the freedom to take other lovers if you want. You want your damned independence."

"It's not about other lovers. Or independence. I just don't want another marriage."

He tugged on his breeches, not bothering with the small clothes underneath. "Damn you, Marianne. I don't want a simple affair with you.
I
want more."

"Just because you're determined to get married? To please your father?"

"No, damn it, because I love you."

"And I love you, Adam. So why can't we love each other and enjoy each other without the yoke of marriage?"

"Yoke? Is that what you think it means? Is that how you thought of your marriage to David?"

"No, of course not."

"But marriage to
me
would be a yoke?"

She heaved a sigh and it only made him angrier.

"You are deliberately misunderstanding me," she said. "It's nothing to do with you, Adam. I don't wish to marry anyone. Ever. I am Mrs. David Nesbitt and always will be. It's who I am. I don't want to be married to anyone else. And remember, too, that I am most likely unable to have children. I would not burden you, or any other man, with my inability to produce an heir."

"You think that matters to me?"

"Isn't that why you became engaged to Clarissa? So you would have a fertile young wife to give you a family?"

He went silent at that. It had indeed been one of the primary reasons for his betrothal. "That would not matter to me, as long as I had you." His throat had grown tight with emotion, and his words were spoken so low, he was not even sure she heard them.

"I am barely out of black, Adam, but I am still David's widow. That's who I want to be."

"David. Always David. I never could compete with the man and now I can't compete with his ghost." There was a fury inside him such as he'd never known. He shoved his bare feet into his shoes. "Enjoy your freedom, Mrs. Nesbitt. I will not be your lover. Find someone else who can contend with David's ghost."

Adam walked into the sitting room and retrieved the portrait of David and brought it back into the bedchamber. He didn't have the energy, or the desire, to rehang it. He propped it against the wall facing the bed.

"Here's your beloved husband to watch over you again. For I shall not be doing it for him any longer. Good-bye, Marianne."

He slung the rest of his clothing over his shoulder and strode out of the room, and out of her life.

* * *

Marianne spent the rest of the afternoon and evening curled up in the bed that still held Adam's unique smell. She did not eat or drink. She cried and cried until there were no tears left to her.

She was sure she had done the right thing, but did it have to hurt so much? She wished Adam could understand. She could shake off her mourning clothes, enjoy Society events, and even take a lover. But she could not remove David from her life. He
was
her life. And always had been. She'd known him and loved him since she was a girl. Their fathers had arranged a betrothal when she and David were still children. And his family had taken her in and made her one of their own after her father died. She was a Nesbitt now. She could not think of herself in any other way.

She did love Adam, though, and it pained her that she had hurt him. But he had been there, right beside her and David, all those years. Surely he understood how much her identity was tied to her husband.

Yes, Adam gave her something David never had, something wonderful. But could she sacrifice her identity for it? It was too painful a decision to contemplate.

She brooded for several lonely days before venturing out into Society again. Marianne was still feeling unsteady and fragile when she attended a rout party given by Lady Morpeth. She'd hoped the lively conversation and varied company would make her feel more like herself again, but they did not. She felt sullen and moody and was sorry she'd come. She was approached by several gentlemen who seemed keen to win her attention, but she was no longer interested. She wanted none of them. There was only one man she'd ever want as a lover, but he would not have her without a marriage license.

She was moping over Adam's intransigence when she saw Viola Cazenove making her way through the crowd toward her. Damn. The last person she wanted to chat with was Adam's mother.

"Ah, Marianne," she said in a breathless voice when she finally broke through the teeming crowd of people. "I am so glad to have found you."

"How nice to see you again, Mrs. Cazenove."

Viola waved a hand in a fluttery dismissal. "Tell me, my dear, have you seen Adam?"

"Not in several days."

"Blast the boy, I fear he is in hiding over that Leighton-Blair business. I will tell you frankly, my dear, that I was never so glad to hear of a broken betrothal in all my life. Adam's father was thrilled because Clarissa is such a beauty. Men can be so shallow that way, can't they? But the girl was as wrong for Adam as she could be. You agree with me on that, I believe."

"Actually, I do. And I told him so, too."

Viola laughed. "Good for you! He needs someone who will speak plainly with him. But now I am concerned. He hasn't shown his face anywhere, and it makes him look like a lovesick brokenhearted fool. He needs to get back into Society and prove that he is not a beaten man. But he's never home when I call. I don't know what he's up to. I was hoping you knew."

Marianne frowned. Had he disappeared on her account? Was he hiding from her? "I'm sorry. I haven't seen him."

"Well, if you do, tell him his mother wants him to buck up and get back in the game."

"Yes, ma'am. I will tell him." If she ever saw him again.

Viola placed a hand on Marianne's arm and leaned in close. "May I confess something to you? Since your David passed on, I have been rather hoping Adam would court you."

"Me?"

"I have always had a hunch that he was in love with you."

"Oh." Dear God, how had she known?

"But I think he feels it would be a betrayal of his friendship for David to act on it." Viola looked at her intently, then said, "But David is dead, so it would not be a betrayal, would it? One cannot hold on to the past forever, after all."

Marianne's throat went dry and she could not find her voice.

"I beg your pardon, my dear, I have embarrassed you. I should let my son speak for himself. And if he ever does, you may be sure that his mother will welcome you with open arms."

Marianne did not know what to say. Turbulent emotions raged inside her. Was she truly beginning to wish she had not rejected Adam's offer? And why was she suddenly comparing Viola Cazenove's warmth with Lavinia Nesbitt's chilly disapproval?

She said a few awkward words to Viola and made her slow exit from the party. She could not think clearly. Her head was spinning. She had to leave.

When she returned home, she found herself standing at her sitting room window, watching the house next door. Adam's windows were dark. Had he left London? Was he out carousing with Lord Rochdale? Or was he perhaps sitting alone in the dark, brooding just as she was?

She loved Adam. She wanted him, wanted his body and his lovemaking. She wanted his friendship, but even that had been denied her.

Marianne was grateful he had shown her the pleasures of sexual love. In fact, now that she had sampled it, she did not know how long she could go without it. But she could not imagine giving herself to another man.

She walked to the desk, where she found her old list with the names of potential lovers lined up in two neat rows. Not a single gentleman on the list interested her anymore. It was as she studied that list that she realized Adam was right. She did not want a casual affair now and then with one of them. She
did
want more. She wanted her best friend back. And her lover. She wanted them both, and maybe a bit more as well.