What the Marquess Sees (30 page)

She came to the surface a dozen yards from the shore and immediately turned to seek out Dansbury.

He stood in the full sun on the shore of the lake with his hands on his hips; his cock distended and ready…thick and hard. She knew it would be hot and pulsing with his desire. He wore a smile that made her tingle from her head to her toes. His eyes blazed with a promise of the ecstasy to come.

“Are you ready for me, Bea?” His voice was low and carried an intensity that seemed to vibrate the air itself. She felt it as much as heard it.

Yes, I am going do this.

He didn’t give her a chance to respond.

He dove in after her.

He swam underwater. To her. And her heart sped up with each second he remained below, swimming closer and closer. To her. Oh God, to her!

Her heart seemed to stop altogether when he broke the surface right before her. Water sluiced down his chest, over sculpted muscle. She wanted to drink from his skin. Her tongue darted out in reflex.

The lake was reasonably shallow; he stood on his knees and the water fell to his waist. She was also on her knees, but sat back on her heels, so she was covered to her shoulders. Modest—ha! He ran both his hands up his face and pushed back his hair, ridding himself of excess water. Then, with clear eyes, he reached for her.

He pulled her up and close, pressing her body to his, and kissed her. She didn’t hesitate; she opened her mouth to the touch of his tongue and lost all pretense of restraint.

Her nipples were pointed darts, sliding around his slick, wet skin. His cock prodded her legs beneath the surface. His hands ran up and down her back and over her ass…it was a full on assault and she loved every minute of it.

“Bea…I need you.”

She simply groaned in response; words escaped her. Thought only just made its presence known in her mind. His every touch was heightened by her awareness that she loved this man. This man. Being in his arms, being loved by him, made her feel hopeful, inspired, provocative…and playful. A plan formed in her mind.

She ran her hands down his sides and back up…then made an attempt…to tickle him. It was an unexpected revenge. He broke the kiss and laughed. She aimed higher. He fell sideways, bringing her with him.

“Oh no…” he chuckled “…you don’t.”

It was difficult to take him seriously when he was laughing like that. She laughed too, until her cheeks hurt, as she attempted to regain her balance in the water and to tickle him again and again. He finally reached for her, threw her over his shoulder, and waded to the shore. She was laughing too hard to protest…not to mention she daren’t complain about the glorious view she had of his unclothed backside.

His ass was firm and flexed with every step. She reached down and squeezed his buns.

He squeezed his cheeks together in response, and they both laughed again.

He walked right out of the water, but didn’t put her down. Not until he found a sunny patch of grass nearby.

He laid her down with care; his eyes turned serious, but no less intense.

“I’m going to make love to you now, Bea. You know that, don’t you?” He spoke tenderly as he brushed his hand across her forehead and down the side of her face; his touch burned a trail of fire across her skin.

But it was the look in his eyes that robbed her of breath; all she could do was nod her head in agreement. She suspected he loved her. But did he know it? And did it even matter? They had no future.

She brushed aside such dark thoughts. They would ruin the mood. Instead, she looked him dead on and spoke her answer with her eyes. The words to accurately express how badly she wanted this didn’t seem to exist.

“Good. I’ve wanted this for so long. So long.” He ran one hand down her side. Down her hip. Across her thigh. Then, back up until he reached the source of her femininity. Her very core, which was slick and throbbing with need.

He closed his eyes. “God, you are so wet and hot here…it’s taking all my energy to go slowly…”

“Then don’t.”

He looked at her then. “But I want to savor this moment, this perfect beautiful moment. Here beneath the sun with nothing else but us, the birds, and God’s green earth.”

She didn’t think she could possibly love him any more, but his words echoed in her soul, making the sensation of love flood her heart…her mind…her body. It rendered her speechless in the face of such overwhelming emotion.

She reached up and brought his lips to hers.

She widened her legs and cradled him there. She felt the length of his manhood twitch upon on her leg.

His fingers toyed with her feminine bud, ratcheting the sensations humming throughout her body. It was light out, but she closed her eyes and stars seemed to float and shine in the darkness of her mind’s eye. She was so close.

“Cliff, I’m close. I need you inside me when I come.”

His answer was to remove his hand and place it on the ground beside her. They both moaned as he flexed his hips and slid into her. Slow. Steady. Hard…Heaven.

Her orgasm exploded around her right away, before he’d made it fully inside. The stars swimming before her eyes blazed brighter before bursting in a riot of colors. The feeling of his hard shaft buried in her core as she contracted in waves of ecstasy worked to ratchet the sensation higher than before. More intense. Hotter. Wilder.

Or perhaps it felt like so much more because this time, she was in love with this man above her. With her. In her. Cliff.
Oh, Cliff
.

He was completely sheathed now. And as such, he paused and pressed his forehead to hers. They both needed to catch their breath. She squeezed her eyes. Tight. Hoping to hold on to this moment. This memory would have to last a lifetime.

It took a few minutes. Then he pulled back, ever so slowly. And thrust forward once more. An upward lift that rubbed the head of his cock in just the right spot.

Again.

And again.

Her core was extra sensitive from already having one orgasm. And each rub of his shaft in just that spot was extra responsive. Extra sharp. Oh, the agony of such delirious ecstasy. She was riding the wave of another orgasm already. He thrust again. And again. Slow, but strong. Deliberate. Though she could feel he was on the edge of losing control.

She felt the orgasm barreling down. There was no stopping it now. She began to stiffen. To clench. She squeezed his ass.

And he lost it. He thrust hard. Rapid. Frenzied.

And she soared to the heavens. With him. He screamed, “Bea!” as he poured his essence into her. It was glorious. Brilliant. Life-changing.

“What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my life.”

― Walt Whitman

“The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart.”

― St. Jerome

Bloomfield Park…

The Library…

A Few Hours Later…

“Out with it. What is the plan?” Ambrose marched into the library with a determined step. No greeting. No discussion of the weather. Straight to the point. So like the man Cliff had known for a lifetime.

Ambrose was dressed to perfection and held about him a serious air. Of course he did. It made perfect sense; they faced a madman bent on killing them, after all.

Nevertheless, Cliff, on the other hand, had dressed after he returned to the house…but hadn’t bothered with a waistcoat or a cravat. He was one hundred percent comfortable. Relaxed.

And thoroughly well-loved. And debauched…and ruined…and…

Cliff turned from his view of the back garden with a smile on his face, one he suspected would remain planted there for some time. Optimism all but throbbed through his veins affecting his outlook on everything, despite the gravity of the matter at hand.

He joined his friend in the club chairs by the fire. He knew Ambrose despised his ‘let’s wing it and see what happens’ approach to spying. Ambrose was a planner. Cliff was one only when he deemed it necessary.

This wasn’t one of those times.

“Why don’t we wait for Lady Beatryce? She’ll be here momentarily,” Cliff suggested as they took their seats. Though it wasn’t really a suggestion so much as a command couched as one even though Ambrose was really the one in charge.

“Why don’t we not wait for her,” stated Ambrose. “Last time I checked, she wasn’t a member of my team.”

Cliff relaxed deeper into his chair. Still at ease, yet he refused to budge on this point. “She has a right to be involved.”

“By what right?” countered Ambrose; his fingers tapped the arm of his chair, a telling sign the man was slightly agitated.

“It is private.” And it was. He would never reveal Bea’s secrets. Even to his best friend.

“Have you forgotten to tell me something?” As one might have anticipated, the duke’s rather active brow rose to the occasion.

“Like what?” Cliff covered his mouth with one hand and tucked his chin; he nearly chuckled over his friend’s predictable facial expressions.

“If I knew that, I would not have asked.”

“No.” He laid his hand back down, though his lips threatened to twitch as he wrestled with inappropriate humor. Regardless, his answer was to the point, leaving no opening for debate.

Ambrose halted his haphazard assault on the armchair and stared at him, that brilliant mind working furiously. “I thought you were beginning to care for Lady Beatryce.”

Cliff remained silent, humor all but flying out the window. He hadn’t sorted his feelings in his own mind; he certainly wouldn’t voice them aloud prematurely.

When he didn’t respond, Ambrose spoke, “Cliff. This is one thing we will never agree on, isn’t it? I just cannot see how you can willingly and consciously put someone you care about in danger like this. I would never put Grace…”

Dansbury sliced the air with his hand. “He is a madman that must be stopped. At all costs. I cannot let my personal feelings get in the way of that.”

He rubbed a hand through his hair, the only outward sign of the distress hovering in the back of his mind, yet he refused to acknowledge it. He might have agreed with Ambrose if he didn’t know Bea so well. She was capable. And part of this. Edward was a madman who had to be stopped. His personal feelings mattered naught, so considering them further was pointless.

And threatened to ruin his rather enjoyable after-loving glow.

“But can you live without her, if the worse should happen?”

Damn the man for trying to darken his mood with a dose of reality.

“It won’t.” He refused to entertain the idea for a minute.

Ambrose stared at him with that infernal brow. “Sure about that, are you?”

“Good afternoon, gentleman.”

He and Ambrose stood as Lady Beatryce entered the room, saving him from answering a question he did not want to consider much less own up to.

She was like a breath of fresh air, radiant and…well-loved. His mind was desperate to return to the lake. Hell, he wanted to return to the lake.

The three of them met in the center of the room, for there were only two chairs by the fire.

“Cliff and I are having a moral debate. Aren’t we Cliff?”

Cliff just nodded his head in agreement, his eyes never leaving hers.

“It amounts to the idea of whether or not the end result justifies the means to get there. I suppose I don’t have to ask you which side you support?”

Beatryce didn’t hesitate to respond. “La, I’m sure you can accurately judge that for yourself. You know me well enough. We were nearly married, after all.”

She never broke eye contact with Cliff as she spoke, a telling sign. Yet for some inexplicable reason, Cliff’s heart dropped at the thought of her almost marrying Ambrose. Even though it hadn’t happened.

And wouldn’t.

“Indeed,” was all Ambrose said to that.

Ha! Ambrose didn’t know her at all, actually. Cliff was glad. No one in this world knew her like he did. No one.

He felt lighter of a sudden.

“Unlike me, Cliff here thinks it’s worth putting the people we care about in harm’s way in order to get our man. I find I disagree with him on that front.” Ambrose pushed.

Beatryce didn’t answer right away. She just continued to stare at him, her heart shining in her eyes.

Hell and damnation, she loved him. He could see it as clearly as he could see the sun shining in the sky, though that celestial orb wasn’t nearly as bright as her smile…nor as vivid as the light gleaming from her eyes.

Yes. Right then he knew. She loved him. Him.

His heart began to race. His world shifted. Again. His entire After Bea world.

He scarcely heard the remainder of their conversation, though he knew she was agreeing with him. How could she not with her history?

His mind was scattered. He couldn’t concentrate on any one thing, only glimpse the tail ends of ideas where they hovered just out of reach of his mind’s eye. He nodded his head when it seemed appropriate, trusting Ambrose to plan their course of action.

But in reality, he was useless at the moment. The only refrain playing out in his mind, over and over again, was…
she loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

He knew her so well; she didn’t even need to say it for him to know it.

“So we’re in agreement then…”

“Sure.” He didn’t know what he’d just agreed to…he was just going along with it. For the first time ever, he was unable to control his thoughts. To stop the relentless chant in his mind.

She loves me.

She loves me.

She loves me.

“Cliff?”

She loves me.

“Tell Wind and Fire where to stop," returned Madame; "but don't tell me.”

―Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

―Confucius

Dusk…

No one spoke as their horses tore across the fields behind Bloomfield Park. The wind whispered loudly in their ears. The sun dipped and colored everything a hazy orange. Trees and greenery were all but a blur as they raced toward danger.