What the Marquess Sees (17 page)

A ray of sunshine burst through the hole in the ceiling illuminating the loft and bathing her face in light making her hair and skin appear to glow. She scrunched her nose, probably at the sudden warmth, but carried on sleeping. He turned his head just so and caught a glimpse of tiny dust motes dancing in the light’s rays. For a moment, he imagined they were little fairies coming down from the heavens to view the sleeping Fae princess.

He shook his head. What nonsense was this? He didn’t have time to wax poetic about her beauty. They had a real problem to address.

He reached out and shook her again. This time, he raised his voice, speaking just shy of a shout. “Bea, wake up!”

Beatryce blinked open her eyes. He knew she’d had little sleep last night. Especially after the eyeful she’d gotten of him pleasuring himself.

Oh, yes. He knew she’d seen it all. And he knew she’d tossed and turned the night through because of it. Or, at least, that was his possibly arrogant assumption.

He shoved aside such thoughts with a promise to address them later. Right now, they, or at least he, had bigger problems.

Beatryce sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Eyes that were so beautiful to behold, and probably gritty from a lack of sleep. She blinked again and looked up at him a moment. Her eyes automatically lowered to the general vicinity of his groin. He was completely covered, but she blushed and turned away anyway. It was ludicrous; she was no innocent, and she’d already seen all he had to offer. Twice now.

He’d explore her odd behavior later.

“Bea, we have a problem. My clothes are gone.”

That got her attention. She turned back around to face him, her eyes wide. “What do you mean gone?”

“I mean gone. They were in the loft and now they’re not.”

He still couldn’t believe it.

“Did you check the floor below? I may have knocked them off last night.” She blushed again as she likely thought of what she’d seen because she’d ventured outside the hayloft last night.

Yea, they’d definitely address that later.

“I checked every inch of this barn from top to bottom. Three times. They are not here.”

Her eyes widened again and then she burst out laughing. Not a titter or a giggle. No, not Beatryce. No, she let loose a hard belly-aching-side-splitting laugh that almost made him laugh, too. Despite the seriousness of his predicament.

“Bea, it’s not funny,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t help it.

“Oh, it is funny…
ha ha ha
…all right. It’s very…
tee hee
…funny. It is absolutely…
snort
…unbelievably hysterical, it’s so funny.” She managed between large, wailing guffaws and the odd snort or two.

He could not believe she was laughing about this.

“Bea. Seriously.”

She laughed that much harder.

“Fine, it might be a little funny, but it’s still a problem. So if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could pull yourself together and give me a hand with this.”

She just doubled over and laughed some more and it made him want to gather her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. Which was absurd. Apparently, taking the edge off last night hadn’t helped. God, he was in a bad way.

But she just looked so carefree when she laughed, with her head tilted back and her arms wrapped around her waist. Her laughter was the thing that had attracted him the first time he’d seen her on that darkened terrace so long ago. Her laugh; it held the power to captivate him.

Every time her amusement began to subside, she’d look at him and start howling and snorting all over again.

“Don’t look at me if it’s going to make you laugh,” he said with a bit of a chuckle himself.

It seemed like ten minutes passed before her laughter began to trail off for good. He’d long since given up squatting and was sitting on his bottom with his back against the wall.

Her laughter was only coming in fits and giggles now. When her breathing finally returned to some semblance of normalcy, she said, “All right. I’ll help you look around and see what we can find,” as she wiped the remains of tears from her eyes.

Half an hour later they knew exactly what had happened. He, with a scratchy blanket wrapped around him like an ill-fitting toga, and she, with her perfectly functional oversized dress (he was actually a touch jealous now) managed to find the remains of his clothes hanging from the mouths of a pair of goats.

Goats.

And there was nothing left to salvage, damned beasties.

The sight of his shredded clothes started Beatryce’s hysterics all over again. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers impatiently, but with a small smile, as he waited for her to calm down. Again.

“Are you finished?”

“Perhaps,” she said with more than a little cheek. She was in a damn fine mood this morning, all things considered.

“Good, then let’s move on and see if we can find an abandoned house to go with this barn. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and find me some more appropriate clothing.”

“Fine,” she chuckled again, “I’ll go to the left, and you head out to the right. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”
Snort.

He shook his head. “Bea, I cannot have you wandering off on your own.”

“Please, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. There is no one here for miles. And I know what I’m about. Worry about yourself. That blanket offers scant protection for your backside.” And she left, laughing again as she walked away.

He reluctantly let her go.

*

An hour later, he returned to the barn with nothing to show for his search save a few scratches on his exposed arms and legs and a new tear in his blanket-dress. He refused to acknowledge the thorns he’d had to pull out of his arse. Stupid briars.

He hoped to God Bea’d had better luck. He tried not to worry over the fact that she wasn’t back.

Ten minutes later, though, and he was prepared to go searching for her. It was with relief when he heard her call out. “Dansbury?”

“Here…” He stood away from the barn wall.

She stepped out of the woods with her arms behind her back and a wide smile on her face. “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“All right…” he said with some hesitation.

“The good news is I found some clothes, but…”

“But…”

“Weeelll, they’re not exactly what you had in mind.”

“All right…”

Slowly, she pulled one arm from behind her back and with a face devoid of any trace of humor, held out an over-sized…

…dress…

A large, multi-flowered, grease-splattered, heavily-patched, tent-sized dress. One that made hers look like it was custom-made from the pages of
La Belle Assemble
.

“Are you crazy?” Was she crazy?

“Well, it is better than what you’ve got on now.” She nodded at his toga blanket. “At least this will stay…up.”

He stared her down and tried to determine whether or not she was serious.

Her mouth didn’t even twitch.

Damn. She was. She was honest to God serious, and he could scarcely believe it. He shook his head in disbelief when he realized she was right. He had no choice. Damn.

He turned to go inside the barn. “Fine. Bring it.” He turned and pointed a finger at her. “But turn your back.”

Yea. His request was ridiculous. She’s seen him completely naked. Twice. But for some reason it felt wrong to let her see him put on a dress. A dress!

Once inside, he took the frock and waited for her to turn her back before he threw the dress over his head and gathered up his blanket.

The dress sagged in the front. And he could smell smoke and bacon. Among other unmentionable things. Well, at least they’d be outside. And it was only temporary. God, his friends would never let him live it down; he’d earn himself a nickname for sure if they could see him.

But he would manage; he was no coward.

Though he didn’t even look in Bea’s direction as he marched past and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

She didn’t follow. Instead, she started laughing all over again. He stopped and beseeched the heavens. Then he turned to look back at her.

Tears streamed down her face, she was laughing so hard. Yea, he looked ludicrous. He knew it. And he couldn’t help but start laughing, too. Laughter truly was contagious. It was all so unbelievably preposterous; he couldn’t invent such a ridiculous situation even if he tried.

Oddly enough, she started shaking her head no. Strange.

“No? Why are you shaking your head no?” he said between his own fits of laughter.

“B-b-b-because. You d-didn’t let me f-finish.”

“Finish? Finish what?” He was no longer laughing. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Showing you…
snort
…my…er…your…other option.”

Then, she pulled her other arm from behind her back and held out a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt.

She shrieked as he hiked up his day dress and charged.

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."

― Oscar Wilde

He caught her just as she made it to the door. His arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her from behind and pulled her to his chest. She shrieked in protest, but only a token shout for she laughed as well.

He walked a few steps, then turned her and pushed her up against a nearby wall. His hands slid up her sides, then up her arms as he caught both her wrists together in one hand. Her breath caught when she opened her laughing eyes and looked at him. Really looked.

She froze.

Yea, he knew what she saw. He was lust filled and crazed with desire. And he knew…right at that moment…without a single inkling of a doubt…that she would not deny him this time.

He didn’t waste her gift as he claimed her lips with his own.

Oh, God, sweet heaven was to be found in her arms.

No tenderness. No preliminaries. Pure raw need had taken over. He nipped at her lips and turned his head this way and that. He couldn’t seem to get close enough; he wanted to crawl inside her skin and synchronize his racing heart with hers.

She tasted of honey and spring and warmth and home. All rolled into one.

God, his desire for her was an ache that grew in strength with each passing day. A fire that burned hot and out of control. Her lips, her taste only fanned the flames. He needed more.

He picked her up and turned in the direction of the ladder. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her voluminous dress was so large, if offered no impediment, and proceeded to kiss him all over every inch of his face as he made his way across the barn.

He placed one hand on the first rung; she still within his arms, holding on, and kissing him in any place she could reach. Hell. He nearly rutted with her on the ground right there at the base of the ladder, he could scarcely concentrate to make the climb.

Once at the top, he set her down in the loft and whipped her dress off and over his head. It fluttered to the ground below. He nearly fell off the ladder at the sight. She was beautiful and it took his breath away every single time. She smiled and started to slide backward. He crawled forward, mimicking her every move. She leaned back on her elbows and watched as he tore off his own dress and tossed it over the edge to join the other.

His prick bobbed a few times as it was freed from the confines of his frock. Again, her eyes flared wide at the sight of his desire. He all but howled as a wolf to the moon he was so pleased. He felt like an animal, crazed with lust.

He crept toward her; heat enflaming his body with every move. Like last time, she rolled over onto her hands and knees and his mouth, yet again, turned dry at the sight. Would he ever tire of looking at her? She was sensual, sex incarnate. And inviting. He wanted to devour her whole.

Despite her previous claims, he thought they’d been through enough that she would accept him in the more traditional way. Face to face. He wanted to feel her breasts sliding against his chest as they found their pleasure. He reached out to turn her over.

Again, she resisted. She looked back at him. “No. You know my rules, Dansbury.”

Fine. She could have it her way. For the moment. He moved forward, his cock straining to be inside her. He clasped his manhood, it was harder than it had ever been in his life.

He nudged forward and guided it into…

…Heaven

Ah, God. Pure, sweet bliss.

He could scarcely believe the sensation. Had he ever had sex before?

He pulled back, slowly, until the flared edge of his crown peeked out. And he watched, captivated, as her channel clenched, sucking at him, desperate to hold him inside. His urge was to plow into her. Hard and Fast. Over and over. Until they both came, screaming their release. But he held back and took it slow despite every instinct to simply take. Take. Take. Take.

He set a steady rhythm, slow and sensual, but when he was nearly all the way to her womb, he flicked his hips that last little bit. Every. Time. And every time, his hips slapped her ass, his cods thumped her cunt, the sound erotic amidst their moans of pleasure.

And he was not alone in his bliss. She thrashed her head and chanted his name every time he drove home. Her perfect composure was shattered, and he relished seeing her in the raw. Uninhibited and melting in his hands.

All too soon he was nearing his crisis, but he refused to tumble over the edge alone. He leaned forward and reached around her to find her clitoris, hidden in her folds. She seemed to startle, but quickly she began to moan, words no longer able to form on her lips. He knew just the feeling. He felt it himself.

He was close, the end just within reach and he already hated that fact. But experience told him she was there, nearly. She was taut like a bow about to release its arrow when he said, “Let go, Bea, let it go.”

She screamed his name and began to convulse on his cock. He pistoned his hips in response for a moment, then without warning, flipped her over. She was too insensate with pleasure to complain. Right away, he dove back in and picked up his previous rhythm.

“Bea. Oh, Bea. That’s it. I can’t. I can’t. Ah God, I can’t take it anymore.”