The Lady Always Wins(13)

Some part of him waited for her to walk away, to leave him again. He couldn’t bear it if she did. He’d beg, if he had to. But she leaned forward and slid her hands up the muscles of his abdomen, up his chest. Her hands brushed his ni**les, and he let out a gasp.

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered. “You’ve never been a pretense.”

He wasn’t sure how they got his shirt off. He wasn’t sure if he pushed her down to the divan, or if she pulled him on top of her. He wasn’t even sure how he got inside her—if it was his impatient thrust or her guiding touch. He only knew that they both wanted it, that they needed it. Then she was clasped around him, and he—after all these years—was seated in her. There was no revenge to it. Just Ginny, giving herself to him freely.

Finally.

She pushed up on her elbows and nipped his shoulder, and he began to move. She was warm. Soft. The intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm him in a haze of pleasure. She was everything he had ever hoped for. He could feel her clenching around him. Her hips ground against his. He leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, just to feel her muscles tighten involuntarily about him. And he pushed into her again and again and again, until she cried out, her whole body shaking around him. After that, he took her harder still, thrusting into her until he found his own ecstasy. It burned him to pieces, and he didn’t care.

Afterward, he was almost afraid to break their silence. He played his hand along her face, caressing her cheek, fingering little wisps of her hair. His lips found her jaw, her temple. It seemed almost sacred, this moment—like the first rays of a spring sun hitting the top arch on some pagan monument.

“Look,” he finally said, “as it turns out, I have a special license in my coat pocket.”

She drew in a breath, buried her face in his shoulder and laughed. “Of course you do.”

He stroked her hair. “I have to go back to London in the morning. Will you marry me first?”

“And of course it has to be tomorrow. Not Thursday or Friday, nor a week from now. You never were good at waiting.”

“I’ve waited seven bloody years. I’m done waiting. Marry me.”

She didn’t say anything. He could feel her muscles go from relaxed to tense as she considered the matter.

“And what about revenge?” she finally asked. “I don’t think that was entirely a jest on your part. You’re still unhappy with me.”

“I can’t pretend there is no lingering bitterness.” He reached up and touched her lips gently. “I can’t pretend that I’m not furious about those years I lost. But I wouldn’t be so angry if I didn’t love you so well. I can’t let you walk away again. Not for one day more.”

He shut his eyes. It was true—all of it. He wanted her. He needed her. He wasn’t going to let her go. But his gut clenched with what he wasn’t saying. If he waited any longer, she would find out the truth of his finances. She wouldn’t marry him.

Oh, she’d be furious when she discovered his lies. But at least she’d be his. And just as he knew he’d let go of his own lingering animosity, he knew he could coax her out of hers.

“You came here with a special license,” she said.

He nodded.

“This is madness.”

He nodded.

“If this is madness,” she said, “let nobody ever accuse me of sanity.” And finally, finally, she broke into a grin. “I’ll do it. Oh, Simon,” she said, nestling against him. “I’ve missed you so much. You forgive me?”

“Do that again,” he said, “and I’ll forgive you anything.” But even though he smiled at her, his stomach turned. In a few days, he’d be the one begging her. But for now, she didn’t know.

She simply smiled up at him brilliantly. “Then let’s scandalize Alice,” she said. “Take me up to bed.”

Chapter Five

GINNY WOKE IN HIS ARMS the next morning. He’d been caressing her as she slept—a gentle, sweet rhythm. When she opened her eyes, she was almost surprised at the look on his face: somewhere between stunned and solemn.

“Good morning,” she whispered. It wasn’t just a good morning: It was a great one, great and terrible. She’d agreed to marry him in a matter of some hours.

“See here,” he said. His mouth curled down with the look of a man who had been planning a speech for a while. “I have to say something. I know you don’t love me as much as I do you, but I’m going to change all that. I don’t care how long it takes.” He leaned in and rested his forehead against her shoulder. “You are going to love me.”

For the first time since they’d kissed yesterday, a cold chill ran through her. “You think I don’t love you?”

He snorted. “For Christ’s sake,” he muttered into her shoulder. “You married someone else. What was I supposed to conclude?”

She turned away from him. “That I didn’t want to be poor? That you were threatening to cart me off to Gretna Greene, no matter what I said? I didn’t know how else to stop you. I was in a panic.”

“I wasn’t threatening!” he said. And then, as if he remembered how hot his temper might have run, he threw out: “At least, not seriously. If you loved me enough, the money wouldn’t have mattered!”