In the Arms of a Marquess(104)

“Oh, Ben.” She rested a palm upon his chest, then her brow. “I feel weak all over.”

He drew in a deep breath, touched his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze, wrapping his arm about her. “Then allow me to hold you until you regain your strength.”

“Rescuing me again?” A quivering smile. “You know, it is very difficult for a woman to resist a man who rescues her so many times.”

“I suspected that.” He pulled her to him tight and his heart beat hard and steady beneath her fingertips. “I love you, Octavia,” he murmured against her cheek. “I love you.” He captured her lips and kissed her so sweetly and with such sublime seduction of heart and body that she could only surrender willingly, happily, as she had at the beginning with him, when the world was wide and love could be plucked from the heavens if one were adventuresome enough to reach for it.

Her smile was radiant. “Take me home, Ben.”

“Where to? Madras or Kent?”

“Wherever you are.”

“You have my promise, shalabha. Forever.”

Epilogue

The marchioness leaned into the main deck rail and loosened the ribbons on her bonnet, setting a flurry of gold-red locks free. Sea spray and smoke from the Madras manufactories ahead tangled in the tropical air and in her nostrils, beckoning. Sprawled in a comfortable pale mass on the East Indian coast, Fort St. George commanded the harbor, surrounded by palm trees and town houses and screened by dozens of ships. She loved this sight, the sight she craved and that held her spellbound now, as on that first time she sailed toward it a decade ago.

She sensed her husband’s approach from behind. He slipped his hands around her waist, then his arms, and she leaned back into his warmth.

“So, we arrive.” His voice was peaceful.

“I have been thinking,” she said, months of shipboard contentedness now transformed into jittery anticipation. “What if you are unhappy here? What if it all seems horridly alien to you after so many years?” She turned from the scene of tropical heaven before her to an even more intoxicating sight.

His eyes sparkled beneath the equatorial sun, his expression pacific. “Then you will remind me and it will become familiar once again.”

She studied his face. “You are not sorry to have come?”

“No.” He sounded certain. “It is time. I stayed away too long.”

“You must have come back someday. Your family is here, and India is in your blood.”

His arms tightened. “You are in my blood.”

“I know you did this because I wanted to, and you are a prince for it.” She smiled. “But it will be good for the business, even such a brief visit.”

“Six months is sufficient time.” He bent to touch his lips to the side of her mouth, then again to the other side. Sweetness coiled through her at the light caress, the need he always roused in her rising full-bodied and soul deep. She wound her arms about his neck. The sailors were accustomed to these displays of affection by now, and if anybody complained, Abha would glower them into submission, or Lal would scold.

Welcoming her husband’s kisses, she struggled to order her thoughts. “Sufficient time to reestablish allies and make new contacts?”

“Sufficient time to make love to you in every place I once imagined doing so.”

“You did? Where?”

His hands slipped to her lower back and he pulled her flush to him. “Everywhere.” His voice was husky, the evidence of the vitality of his imagination delightfully tangible against her.

“In the garden, I suppose.” She lifted her lips.

“Yes.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. She shifted to meet him, but he teased, turning his attention to her lower lip with tantalizing little bites.

She sighed, a throaty sound of sheer bliss. “Where else? Never tell me the bazaar.”

“Yes.”

“The bazaar?” She gasped, the tip of his tongue turning her joints to jelly. “And the park?”

“Yes.” He kissed her full upon the mouth.

“The cotton fields?” She laughed in sheer happiness. “Company headquarters? Or, no—my aunt and uncle’s drawing room?”

“Yes. But mostly your bedchamber. I fantasized about you in your bedchamber.”

She smoothed her palms across his chest. The apricot-colored gem on her ring finger glittered alongside the gold embroidery of his waistcoat.

“I have a bedchamber here aboard ship, you know.” She took her lower lip between her teeth. “A rather fine cabin, actually. I know the owner, you see.”

“Do you?” His hands rounded her waist again. “And do you think he would mind if I used you quite thoroughly in that cabin momentarily?”

“I daresay he would not mind it at all. He is a generous sort.” Her voice came forth breathy. Silly for a woman married so many months, but there it was. His gaze and words did things to her inside. Very fine things.

He brushed his lips across her palm. “You will not regret missing our approach?”

His mouth did things as well. Even finer things.

“I have already seen the view.” Her pulse was quite rapid. “And we will not dock for another hour, will we?”

One black brow lifted. “About an hour.”