Page 52 of The Rebellious Countess (The Ruined Duchess #2)

Twenty-Two

Sir Elias Drake,

She was honoured by my proposal but rejected my suit. She is with child.

Astley

—The third letter written by Simon Benjamin Clark, Earl of Astley, to Sir Elias Maximilien Allistair Drake, when Lady Máira Blair Drake refused his proposal of marriage. The first two letters were thrown into the fire when Elias determined them to be illegible, as he drowned himself in alcohol.

U rquhart Castle was empty. There were servants going about their daily tasks, but the silence was enough to drive her utterly mad. She missed the chaos of her sisters, the teasing, the laughing, even the fights would be better than the clock ticking away the time as if nothing mattered.

Because something did matter. The babe in her stomach meant the world.

Iseabail had been the first to recognize her symptoms. When she’d first become ill and lost her breakfast, everyone began to panic about the sickness spreading through the London townhouse.

Then she recovered within a couple of hours, and a huge sigh of relief went through the family and staff.

Except it happened again the next day, and the next, until Iseabail pulled her aside and asked if it was possible she were pregnant.

She’d broken down and cried in Iseabail’s arms from heartbreak and misery and fear.

Then her tears turn to ones of joy and happiness, as she realized she’d been gifted a piece of the man she loved.

The next morning she’d gone to see Simon and turned down his proposal of marriage.

She was almost certain he wouldn’t remember.

His fever had been high, and he appeared to fall asleep mid-confession.

She could not allow him to raise another man’s baby, not after the scandal his family had suffered.

She refused to do it to him. She followed up the rejection by throwing up most spectacularly in an antique vase in the earl’s bedchamber.

Caillen had come in and banned her until she was better.

She ran her finger through the moisture gathering on the glass of her library window overlooking the hillside.

She wrote her favorite phrase over and over as if she were learning to write it in the nursery.

Sitting in the window seat, staring out at the vast green hills, she wrapped her arm around her stomach, she leaned her head against the cool glass and sighed as she caught a glimpse of herself across the room in the floor-to-ceiling-length mirror.

“Miss Máira you have a visitor.”

Máira swung her feet to the floor, slipped them into her shoes, and frowned. Her nearest neighbor was a good half-day’s ride away. “Who is it, Ward?”

“He says he’s the Earl of Dorset, your husband.”

Her heart skipped. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Aye, lass, you do.” He stood in the doorway to the library, dripping on her floor as if he’d been in the rain for days. His long curly hair was plastered to his head, and his body was covered in mud.

“Don’t talk like you’re a Scotsman, you dirty Sassenach French bastard.”

He smirked. “I don’t think Aventine would appreciate you saying that.”

“It has nothing to do with your mother, and everything to do with the man traipsing muck into my home!”

He looked down at the trail of mud behind him and sat down in the middle of her floor and began removing his boots. Then he addressed her butler. “Apologies, Ward. I was just anxious to see my wife again.”

Ward nodded in understanding.

She looked toward heaven for patience and sanity. “Don’t bother taking your boots off, you’re leaving.”

“I’m staying, mo ghaol, ” he said softly.

“Stop talking as if you know Gaelic. You are not a Scotsman, and you are not an earl. You are a bloody, lying Sassenach French bastard who doesn’t know the meaning of mo ghaol . And don’t help him remove his boots, Ward!”

Her order was too late. Elias’s second boot was off and making her pristine butler filthy. “Sorry, Countess,” Ward said, as he backed out of the room and closed the door.

“I’m not a bloody countess!” she screamed.

Elias grinned as he stood and turned the key in the lock.

“Get out.”

He waved his index finger at her as if she were a naughty child. “I’m not going anywhere, Wife.”

“You had our marriage annulled.”

“I did not.”

Her heart skipped a second beat and she found it difficult to swallow. “You don’t love me.”

“I do. I lied.”

“Exactly. You lied. Everything out of your mouth is a lie.”

“Not anymore.”

“And how am I supposed to tell if that’s a lie?”

“I swear on all that is holy I should have never let you go.” He continued his advance.

“You’re not a particularly religious man. You threatened to throw a cardinal out of a boat.”

“He valued his dress more than a life. I would say he was the one who wasn’t a religious person.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“I swear to our unborn child, I love you with everything that I am.”

“Yet you left me.”

“I thought you deserved more than what I had to offer. I am sorry I hurt you. I was trying to do what was best for you.”

“And what is best for me now?”

“To remain married to the father of your child, who will spend the rest of his days making up for the sorrow he caused you.”

Her heart seized. He knew, and he was just saying that because he wanted his child. Her child. “I will not let you take away my child. I will use Ross’s power as a duke to destroy you or anyone else who tries to take my child from me.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good. The woman I love would never let anyone take away our child.”

She stared at him, wanting to trust his words but not daring to trust him with her heart. “You’re not an earl.”

“I am an earl, thanks to your brother-in-law, Ross, and Sir Robert Williamson of the War Office. They petitioned our Regent with my heroism in rescuing Astley. They were quiet about rescuing the cardinal. Ross believed the real reason His Majesty granted me the title was their timing. Our Regent was preoccupied with his mistress, and he wanted them gone. He expelled them from the Buckingham Palace for the next year. Ross is heartbroken.”

“I don’t love you,” she blurted out.

Elias grinned as he slowly crossed the library to where she stood. “You are a terrible liar, mo ghaol .”

She lifted her chin in defiance. It was her last line of defense against his charm and smile and those damn kissable lips. “It’s true.”

“Your writings on the window say otherwise.”

She looked over at the window and found herself in his arms before she could deny the truth once more. A tear ran down her cheek, but she couldn’t look away from the damning words she’d written just moments before. I love him. I love him. I love him .

“Say it,” he whispered.

“I love you, but?—”

His lips were on hers, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was home. When she was in his arms, nothing else mattered but the two of them together. This was where she belonged. Where she’d known she belonged from their very first kiss.

His lips were strong and dominating and he tasted like everything she’d ever dreamed a man should be, as he pushed her against the bookcase.

His cock hardened against her, reminding her of the everything he could do to her body.

He groaned as she pressed into him, lifting her hips to create more friction.

Her fingers slid through his wet hair as her nails dug into his scalp and she pulled his head down to deepen their kiss. What this man did to her was madness.

He pulled her hands from his scalp and wrapped them behind her back as his lips trailed down her jaw and neck. She bent her neck to the side giving him more access as he sucked on her pulse point, making her body respond in a way only Elias could.

“Oh, God, don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan to.”

She should have thanked the stars, the moon, the rain for allowing her to feel this way again. Intoxicated, drunk, thoroughly foxed on her passion for Elias—until she wasn’t.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She tugged on her wrists, only to find them tightly secured behind her back. “Elias?”

He lifted his head and grinned a devious smile that on any other man would be frightening. “I told you I would use the cardinal’s robes to tie you up.”

She gasped. “We can’t…” She hesitated and arched her back to look over her shoulder at the neatly tied sailor’s knot securing her hands together with the red silk fabric of the cardinal’s robe. She whispered, “We can’t have sex while I’m tied up with a priest’s holy clothing.”

“Want to place a wager on that?”

“How did you get it?”

“You dropped it on shore when Ross found us. I picked it up and kept it.”

He was out of his clothing in seconds, not minutes, and then he was pushing the shoulders of her gown down and lifting her breasts from her half corset, exposing her to his gaze.

“Holy hell,” he swore.

“Don’t say that!”

“You’re more beautiful than ever.” He caressed her, stroked her, admired her flesh as he pushed and plumped, and finally took one nipple into his mouth and groaned a throaty noise that spoke of desire and need. “God, I’ve missed these.”

“If we…” She gasped as his tongue circled and teased. “If we get struck by lightning it’s your fault.”

“Mmmm.”

He switched to her other breast and continued teasing the first nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Rolling it, then pinching it as his teeth grazed the other.

Máira could do nothing but moan as she arched into his mouth and absorbed every touch and stroke he gifted her.

Material ripped and her gown was gone. His nimble fingers unlacing her corset faster than any maid.

She heard the ripping of more fabric as her shift fell away and then he was kissing her once more.

Their naked bodies rejoicing in their nudity as he directed her away from the bookcase toward the settee.

He broke the kiss and turned her around, his chest to her back as he reached over the settee and grabbed a pillow.

“What are you…oh, holy hell.”

“It seems we will both be to blame if we are struck by lightning,” he whispered into her ear.

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to see what he was doing, because the full-length mirror on the wall gave her the most erotic view of her life—their naked bodies aroused for each other.

Elias placed his hand in the middle of her back as they watched each other in the mirror, and he slowly bent her over the back of the settee, making sure her ribs were protected with the pillow and that she could see what he was going to do to her in the mirror.

He grinned when he had her right where he wanted her. “Don’t move.”

“I don’t plan to.”

He kissed her spine, tracing the ridges with his tongue, every inch feeling like a new dash of ecstasy.

His fingers caressed her arse, massaging her flesh, stroking so close to her center, only to retreat time and time again.

She squirmed as she watched his mouth trace over the globes, his tongue circling her most intimate place until she was a ball of aching need.

“Please, Elias,” she begged, and he was on his knees, his cock pointing to where they both wanted it to be. “I need your cock,” she insisted.

“I need your pussy,” he responded, right before he spread her legs wider and lapped her wetness. “Mmmmm,” he moaned, and did it again and again.

He licked, and tormented, and tantalized to the point Máira was unable to watch. She closed her eyes and let her orgasm take over as he sucked her clit, and her body quaked with spasm after spasm of pure bliss.

“Open your eyes, mo ghaol .”

She complied and saw his beautiful body in the mirror.

His knees bent, his glorious cock going between her legs to nudge at her core and she was on the brink once more.

He entered her with one hard thrust, his head falling back and his exquisite hair brushing his shoulders.

He was the vision of a Roman god, making love to her.

“This is heaven,” he groaned. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

She flexed her core in response.

“Devil woman,” he growled, and slapped her arse, shocking them both. She whimpered and his eyes widened as he sought her gaze in the mirror.

“Do it again,” she begged, and watched his jaw tighten and his eyes light with desire.

His palm met her arse once more and she groaned, her pussy spasming around his length as he rubbed circles into the red mark of his hand.

His desire took over, he pulled out to drive up into her hard and fast, one hand gripping her hip, the other splayed across the middle of her back.

The carnality of it all as he stroked in and out, the red satin tickling between the globes of her arse, was enough to drive her to insanity.

Her pants urging him on as a bolt of pleasure shot through her body.

“I’ve missed you, Máira. I was a husk of a man without you.” Their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

“Then don’t leave me again.” Her voice became edgy as her hands curled around their silk binding and she moaned in rapture.

“Never. I. Love. You.” Each word a slap of flesh meeting flesh, and a rumble traveled through his chest as she fell over the edge of arousal into complete ecstasy.

She watched as he pushed in and out, his neck straining, the muscles of his legs showcasing his strength and masculinity, and Elias followed her into to the paradise of the two of them being one.

His chest heaved as he stood there, his muscle quaking.

“What are you doing?” She laughed between pants.

“I told you I didn’t ever want to leave.”

She giggled and flexed her muscle around him, and he groaned in pleasure. His body draped over her as he kissed up her spine and her neck.

“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

“You are the most talented man I’ve ever known.”

He drew back and looked at her. His brows drawn together. “Are you saying you’ve known more men since we’ve been apart?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I love you. Nothing will change that.”

“Then you won’t mind if I continue seeking out other men?”

That created a scowl on his handsome face. “Over my dead body.”

She giggled. “You are the only man for me now and forever.”

He pulled her up from the settee and gently untied the silk as he ran kisses across her shoulders. “You are a minx.”

“I am your minx.”

A triumphant smile passed his lips. “And I am your ‘dirty Sassenach French bastard’ now and forever.”

She winced and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t ever tell Aventine I said that.”

“Never, beautiful wife of mine.”