throat, the lovely curve of her clavicle. He sank into the rosewater scent of her, so delicate, so feminine for a woman Sheridan had described as a hoyden. Grey wished he dared remove her clothes so he could fondle her pert breasts, but even he had no wish to tempt fate so blatantly.
After a moment, seeing her fully naked didn’t even matter. She was writhing atop him with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, making him insane, and he was fighting to resist the pull of nature. Just as he thought he couldn’t bear any more, she dropped down on him and cried, “Oh. My. Heavens!”
He came. How could he not? The feel of her engulfing him was pure ecstasy. As he poured his seed into her like the reckless fellow he was, she murmured, “You’re mine now, Grey. Mine.”
The possessive note in her voice delighted him. “So are you,” he choked out, his cock spasming and his body alert to every contraction of her quim. “Mine forever.” When she collapsed against him, obviously replete, he nuzzled her throat. “And don’t you forget it.”
Even half-clothed and draped casually all over him, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And his, all his.
It took some moments before they came fully to their senses. He began to notice dusk setting in, and the forest growing quiet in anticipation of the night. They should go. But he was loath to leave just yet.
“Mmm,” she whispered. “That was wonderful.”
He chuckled. “You are very easy to please.”
She drew back to eye him askance. “Are you saying your lovemaking is inferior to that of other men?”
“And if it is? Would you still marry me?”
She looped her arms about his neck. “I would marry you if you were a complete incompetent at it. Which, by the way, you are not.” She kissed his nose. “You make me happy. You understand me. I need nothing else, Grey.”
That sent his heart soaring, an unfamiliar sensation for him. “Then perhaps you should call me by my Christian name.”
“Fletcher? I prefer Grey. It suits you better.”
He blinked. “You know my Christian name?”
“Of course I know it, silly. Sometimes your mother even calls you by it. Besides, it’s written out in full with your titles whenever you appear in the scandal sheets.” She adopted a pompous tone: “‘Fletcher Pryde, the Duke of Greycourt, was seen with opera dancer Whatever-Her-Name-Is. They were clearly quite intimate.’”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be absurd. I have never had my name associated with an opera dancer.”
“Are you sure?” She tapped her chin. “I could swear you have.”
“Enough.” He gave her a quick kiss. “You’re teasing me again. Which, by the way, no one else, other than my family, dares to do.”
“Only because everyone else is cowed by you.”
“Except you, my love.”
“Which is why you like me.”
He laughed. “Also true.” Then he sobered. “But as much as I’m enjoying this—”
“I know.” She sighed. “We need to get to Armitage Hall, in case Sheridan is there.”
“Precisely.”
She slipped off his lap and worked to repair her clothing. “Are you ever going to tell me how you resolved the Vanessa issue?”
“Oh. Right.” He rose and buttoned everything up. “I forgot.” He explained what he’d had the Times print as an errata. “Will that do?”
A beautiful smile broke over her face. “That sounds perfect. Leave it to you to come up with such a brilliant solution.”
The compliment pleased him ridiculously. “I’m glad you’re happy. I wasn’t sure you would be.”
“It was rather arrogant of you to assume I would accept your proposal before I actually did,” she said, though her teasing tone relieved him.
“I know. Why do you think I didn’t tell you until I’d secured you?”
“I suppose I shall let it pass this time.” She was clearly fighting a smile. “As long as you don’t do it again.”
“I can promise that easily. Although I must say Vanessa was very happy with my solution, especially since I promised her mother I would double Vanessa’s dowry.”
She frowned. “So you’re rewarding your aunt for being despicable?”
“No. I’m ensuring Vanessa is unaffected by her mother’s bad behavior.”
“Oh. Well, that sounds wise.”
He stared at her. Only Beatrice could see this as a practical way out, without jealousy or bias. Apparently, she loved him for his cleverness and wisdom. For his depth of feeling. For his character.
Considering that she’d turned him down when she thought her character was in question, he knew she loved him for himself, not for his dukedom. That meant