Page 39 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

But maybe she was being selfish. Robert professed to admire her and like her, but no words of love had ever been exchanged. And she didn’t even know if she loved him ! How was she supposed to decide what was best for them both, if she didn’t even know her own mind?

Throughout luncheon, Robert found his gaze returning again and again to Audrey from his place at the head of the table. She sat on his left, Michael on his right, two very important people in his life.

He hadn’t known how the day might go, if Audrey would allow her embarrassment over their false engagement to leave her stilted with Michael and his wife, but that hadn’t happened.

Audrey had been as taken with Cecilia as Robert was, and was already plying her with many questions about the Appertan estates, which she’d been managing during her brother’s minority.

Robert guessed that there was more going on behind the Blackthornes’ words, that their relationship had perhaps a rockier start than they were letting on, but that was something to question Michael about later.

During a lull in the conversation, he asked Michael, “Have you heard from Rothford?”

“The Duke of Rothford?” Blythe interjected, wide-eyed. “Robert, how do you know so many peers when you’ve been in India for so long?”

He smiled. “Rothford returned from India with us. He, too, had been with the Eighth Dragoons.”

“I haven’t gone to London since our initial arrival,” Michael said. “You stayed there longer than I.”

“And he was quite absent from any event I attended,” Robert admitted. “I will be very curious when he finally does return to Society.”

He saw Audrey looking intrigued, and Cecilia, staring down as she ate, wearing a knowing smile.

Had Michael told Cecilia everything—every reason they had come to England?

And had she accepted that guilt motivated their actions?

Michael had tried to deny it to himself, felt he’d made a battlefield decision and should not feel guilty.

And how had that worked out for him with his wife?

Robert steered the conversation away from Rothford and any other guilty memories. After luncheon, Cecilia asked for a tour of the mansion, and he obliged them, listening as Blythe expounded in detail where she thought her sister should know more.

He watched Audrey more than anyone, wondered if the thought of this old mausoleum would set her even further against him, but she seemed interested, asking questions about the history of the hall and his family.

At last, the ladies decided to rest before dinner, and Robert looked at Michael. “Shall we have a brandy?”

“Most definitely.”

Michael followed him, still with the slight limp from wounds he’d sustained several months before.

“You are doing well?” Robert asked as they entered his study, and he closed the door behind his friend.

“Much better, thank you. I no longer need the cane, at least.”

As Robert poured, offered a glass, then sat beside his friend, he felt Michael’s regard.

“When you planned to return home to help Audrey,” Michael mused, “none of us knew she was blind.”

Robert nodded, sipping, then feeling the heat of the brandy coat his stomach.

“And now you’re engaged. That seems … quick.”

“As quick as a proxy marriage?” Robert grinned.

Michael smiled back. “You have me there.” His smile faded. “Take it from a man who almost lost his wife because she was determined to annul our marriage?—”

“She had such a strong negative reaction once she met you?” Robert quipped.

“Just listen. I wasn’t honest with her at the beginning about our involvement in the death of her father—in the death of Audrey’s husband. Have you explained it all to her?”

Robert shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve been too busy trying to keep her from breaking the engagement.”

“That sounds familiar,” Michael said dryly. “But you should know that confessing our secret was not as bad as I thought, not when the woman is rational and understanding. Audrey seems that sort of woman.”

“I know. But we have other issues between us that are more important to me.”

“I won’t delve into your private affairs, but secrecy will just make everything worse.”

“I’ll take your advice under consideration. Now tell me, are you certain you want to take such a flower of England back to that hot hellhole where we’ve served?”

Michael laughed.

That evening, when neighbors arrived to join them for dinner, Audrey listened to the ease with which Robert moved between so many levels of Society, from the servants to his friendship with the absent duke.

She heard the respect in the voices of the servants, and the relief of the neighbors as they got to know Robert.

From everything she’d heard, his father was not a man people liked, even if they respected him.

The neighbors seemed glad to know Robert was his own man in that regard.

Audrey knew how hard he’d been working to be a better man than his father, so that his neighbors could know to trust him, so that his servants could act on their own without fear.

She could not contain the depths of her admiration for him, and feeling scared and worried and excited, she knew she was coming closer and closer to accepting his marriage proposal.

To top everything off, he asked Blythe to perform for his guests after dinner, allowing her to shine, and making Audrey feel all choked with emotion at his very goodness.

To her surprise, Blythe asked her to join in, and the two sisters sang a duet while Audrey played. Audrey later wondered how she’d gotten through it without crying. With Robert’s help, she had her sister back again, and she was living the life she always wanted.

That’s when she knew she was happy, happier than she’d ever been in her life. And all because of Robert. She had fallen in love with him. How could she be afraid of that?

But … what if he didn’t have the same strong feelings?

After Blythe had retired for the night, Audrey wandered about the bedroom feeling restless, her thoughts churning. She counted paces between furnishings, wondering if that would at last tire her mind.

There was a faint knock on the door, and feeling relieved, she opened it. “Blythe, you couldn’t sleep either?”

“It’s me.”

Robert’s voice was quiet and deep, and she found herself clutching the door to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

“I—” she began, then had to moisten her lips. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I came to see if you enjoyed the day. Might I come in?”

She’d been alone with him so many times—why did this feel so different? Perhaps it was because of the big four-poster bed looming behind her, or that she was only wearing her nightdress and dressing gown.

She stepped back, opening the door wider.

“Please come in.” She shut the door behind him, and knew she’d taken a step into the unknown, where she might at last be able to find the answers she sought.

Turning about and leaning against the door, she smiled at him.

“I had a lovely day, Robert. Lord Blackthorne and his wife are gracious, kind people.”

“I agree.”

She gave a little start, surprised that he was so close.

“But do you want to know the best part of the day?” he continued, his voice becoming husky. “It was having you at my side, as my hostess. This place suddenly felt like a home to me.”

“Oh, Robert.”

When he took her upper arms in his hands, she lifted her face for his kiss.

Their mouths were greedy in their exploration, hot and wet.

She found herself falling back against the door, trapped by his big body pressing into hers.

They were wearing so little clothing that she could feel the hard indentations of his chest, and the way his heart pounded against hers.

She felt herself coming alive. Robert was kissing her as if she were the finest wine and he’d never been so thirsty. He burrowed his face into her neck, tasting her skin, nipping at her until she shuddered.

And then she felt his hand move along her side and up her torso, cupping her breast, making her gasp at the burst of heat and sensitivity and exquisite pleasure. He kneaded her through the thin silk garments, rubbing the hard point of her nipple between his fingers.

She was restless and trembling against him, feeling as if she’d fall to the floor if she couldn’t hold onto him. She bunched his shirt at the back and pulled, until she could touch the hot skin of his lower back. It seemed wicked and daring and made her only want more.

She felt her dressing gown part, her hair come loose under his fingers, and he kissed his way down her neck.

Dropping to his knees, he spread her gown wide even as he kissed a line down her collarbone and between her breasts.

She felt the touch of his whiskered cheek against her breast a moment before he took her nipple into his mouth right through her nightdress.

She cried out and arched her back, as if she could press all of her inside him.

He caught one of her knees up against his side, moving his torso between her thighs even as he continued to suckle and lick at her breasts. He felt strong and hot against the intimate depths of her body, and she shamelessly rubbed herself against him.

Her nightdress brushed against her legs as he slowly drew it up her body, separating just long enough to drag it along her sensitive skin.

She was the one who took it on its last journey, pulling it up and over her head, feeling her hair fall down all around her nakedness, the brush of it suddenly as erotic as his fingers.

And then she realized how pale a thought that was, because his fingers began to touch her everywhere, even as he still knelt at her feet.

Out of the darkness, his caresses skimmed her ribs, her hips, behind her knees, sliding along between her thighs.

When his hands palmed her hips, she felt the brush of his thumbs along her curls, sliding deeper into her wetness, parting her.

And then he kissed her there, and she cried out, trembling, her hands pressed to his shoulders to hold herself up.

He licked her, teased her, suckled her, and just when she climbed toward that peak of pleasure for only the second time in her life, he suddenly rose and swept her off her feet, carrying her to the bed.

Though he set her down gently, she could hear movement, and knew he was tugging off his own garments.

Not caring if she impeded him, she explored the flat ripples of his stomach, tugged at the buttons of his trousers, then heard him groan as she palmed the hard length of him through his undergarments as his trousers sagged down his hips.

“Hurry,” she whispered, falling back on the bed.

Without shame, she threw her arms wide against all the pillows, arching her back, displaying herself for him, feeling beautiful and desirable, all the things he’d brought to life in her.

The mattress sagged with his weight as he crawled toward her.

He spread her thighs with his big hands, then settled between them, over her, holding most of his weight with his hands on either side of her head.

She felt his erection hot and hard against her, sliding the length of her once, twice, until she moaned her need of him and clutched his body closer. And then he slid home, deep inside her, and there was no pain, just the fullness of knowing they were joined together at last.