More Than Willing (19 page)

“Maggie,” Aunt Hester said, separating herself from where Gray and she stood. “It’s entirely too cold to stand out here.”

“I’ll be right in.” She knew the wise thing would be to follow her aunt. Instead, she turned around to face Gray.

“Cleary and Tibbles will keep your secret. And if they don’t—”

“Nothing will change?” he asked
, his thick, dark brows arching as if mocking her.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. Things will change more than you know. I hope at least one of us survives.”

Maggie watched him walk away. A feeling of dread washed over her but she didn’t know why.

Why was he worried that neither of them would survive?

With a frown on her face, she walked back into Bradford House, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling his words had on her.

There’d been days during the last two weeks Maggie thought she wouldn’t survive.

For the first twenty-four hours it had been easier to push what had happened at Mayfair to the back of her mind because the house was in constant turmoil getting her sisters ready for their trip to London. Even Charlotte, who’d balked at the idea of a Season, showed an increasing amount of enthusiasm as the time to leave drew near.

Felicity, of course, assumed that Charlotte’s eagerness was because of her desire to begin her search for the perfect husband, as was hers. Maggie didn’t have the heart to tell her Lottie was putting up so little resistance because of a letter their cousin Jonathan had sent. In it he’d included an itinerary of all the noteworthy lectures that would be held during the next few months as well as a long list of libraries, museums, and scientific exhibits he thought Lottie would enjoy visiting. Lottie’s face had brimmed with enthusiasm the minute she’d read the lengthy agenda of events that would feed her hunger for knowledge.

Though Maggie shared in her sisters’ excitement, a part of her dreaded the idea of letting them go. She knew the moment their enthusiasm and constant chatter was gone she’d be left to face weeks of quiet solitude with nothing to occupy her mind except the memorable days she’d spent with Gray.

The time, however, came all-too-quickly when Aunt Hester, Felicity, and Charlotte depart
ed amidst a river of soggy goodbyes and a whirlwind of excitement. Maggie watched with dread as their carriage rolled out of sight, then she stepped back into the house to face the suffocating silence.

At least the brewery occupied her time as well as a portion of her thoughts during the daylight hours. But the nights seemed endless.

In the solitude of her empty bedroom, she relived Gray’s every touch, his every word, his every kiss. The second she lowered her guard, the aching desire to have him hold her and make love to her came back with a painful longing.

Even now, after two torturous weeks of endless tossing and turning she found it impossible to sleep, which was why she stayed at the brewery
every night until the wee hours of each morning. It was all she could do to keep from thinking about…

Maggie slammed shut the ledger she’d been working
on in the brewery office for the last several hours then breathed a sigh that hurt deep inside her chest.

She’d rarely seen Gray since they’d returned, and the few times she had he’d barely acknowledged her. The one time she’d been brave enough to ask after him, she discovered Chester Murdock had sent him to each of their tied properties to confirm the orders for this brewing season and he wouldn’t be back for nearly a week.

She wondered why he hadn’t told her he was going, then realized he was probably relieved to have an opportunity to get away from her.

At least he still worked here. Maggie told herself she should be thankful for that. At first she was afraid he’d be forced to leave if word of who he was got out. But evidently Cleary hadn’t told anyone Gray’s identity, and Henry Tibbles hadn’t either. News that the Earl of Camden’s son was working as a common laborer would have spread like wildfire if either of them had.

Maggie couldn’t concentrate any longer. It was time to go home.

She rose from her chair and reached for her cloak that hung on a peg behind her desk. Then
she stopped when a deep, familiar voice resonated from the open doorway.

“It’s about time you called it a night and went home.”

She clutched her fingers on the corner of the desk. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just coming to take you home.”

“I know the way.”

“It won’t help, you know.”

She stopped. “What won’t help?”

“Working yourself to exhaustion to try to forget.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t, Maggie,
my love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Maggie pulled her cloak closed at the neck and slipped the loop over the button. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to realize you’ve been staring at the same column of numbers without actually seeing them.”

“I had other things on my mind.”

“Until now?”

“It’s not that late,” she started to argue, then stopped when she realized she didn’t have any idea of the time.

“It’s nearly three in the morning. I’d call that late.”

“I…uh, didn’t know.”

“Obviously.” He stepped into the room.

Maggie was afraid he’d close the door behind him but he didn’t. Instead, he walked to the fireplace and stirred the dying embers until the flames came to life.

She could feel the heat where she stood, but more enveloping than the warmth was the
effect of the flickering firelight that illuminated the rugged features of his face. A heavy weight dropped to the pit of her stomach and her heart tightened with an agony that went bone-deep.

When
would the pain of wanting him go away?

“Have you heard from your aunt and sisters?”

“They write nearly every day.”

“How was the Duchess of Sherwood’s ball?”

“Felicity wrote a six-page letter describing everything from the decorations to the food to the gowns.” Maggie smiled. “I can even tell you what selections the orchestra played and what color livery the footmen wore.”

“Which young beau has caught your sister’s eye?”

Maggie watched Gray’s jacket pull tight across his shoulders when he propped his elbow against the fireplace mantle. The glow from the flames made his complexion seem even darker, more bronze, more…beautiful.

He’d cut his hair before they went to Mayfair but that had been nearly three weeks ago and it had grown out enough that the back almost reached the collar of his shirt. Oh, she wanted to run her fingers through it; she wanted to cup her hand against the back of his head and bring his lips down to hers.

Maggie pulled her thoughts away from such decadence. It was foolish to remember how he’d felt in her arms; inside her.

She spun away from him and clutched her hands to her middle.

“Has she said?” he asked.

What did he want to know?

“I’m not sure if any gentleman in particular has caught Felicity’s eye,” she said in a voice that sounded unnaturally raspy. “But she did mention a certain Earl of Landsdowne.”

“Ah, Downey.”

She turned back. “Do you know him?”

“Yes. He would make an admirable match. And without a doubt, a good husband.”

“She also mentioned the Marquess of Farnsdell. He has paid her special attention and made a point of dancing with her.”

His features changed. “Write your sister in the morning and tell her not to encourage Farnsdell. In fact, tell her to avoid him at all cost.”

Maggie heard a note of warning in his voice. “What do you know about him?” She knew if a man with Gray’s reputation thought someone a bad choice, he must indeed be bad.

“Let’s just say the terms ‘kind’ and ‘gentle’ are completely out of his realm. The last… ahem… ‘lady of the evening’ he visited was taken to hospital where she remained for more than a month.”

“Oh, lord,” Maggie said. She was tempted to sit down tonight to pen Felicity a note. “I’ll make sure she knows to stay away from him.”

“Good. Then tell her to smile an extra measure in Downey’s direction. The woman with whom he falls in love will be treated like a queen.”

He stepped so close to her she felt the heat from his body.

“What about your other sister?”

“I’ve always known Lottie would be the more difficult one to see settled.”

“Because of her hunger for learning?”

She nodded. Oh, she wished he hadn’t mentioned hunger. At the moment she was starving, but her craving had nothing to do with food.

“What are you hungry for, Maggie?”

“Don’t, Gray.”

“What do you want, Maggie,
my love?” He lowered his head to nuzzle against the crook of her neck. “This?”

He let his mouth linger on her sensitive flesh while his hands held her body.

“Tell me you’re not willing and I’ll stop.”

She tried to find the words but none would come. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t but that wouldn’t have been the truth. She was
more than willing.

“Tell me, Maggie. Tell me that you’re willing.”

He dropped his arms from around her and she uttered an agonizing moan. She’d never felt so bereft in her life, never so alone, so abandoned.

With a sigh that shattered the silence, she willingly stepped into his arms and pressed herself against him until she was almost a part of him. Then, she cupped her palms on either side of his face and tilted his head downward.

“Kiss me, Gray. Please, kiss me.”

“Yes, Maggie,
my love. Yes.”

His mouth moved over hers. His lips touched hers, tasting her, devouring her. His hands moved over her body, setting her on fire wherever he skimmed across her delicate flesh. She wasn’t sure how she’d survived this long without him. She wasn’t sure she could have survived even one more day. Or one more hour.

There were words with which she’d lectured herself, words of warning combined with strict instructions to never give in to him again. But those warnings seemed wrong somehow. The instructions as useless as bad advice. So she ignored the little voice that whispered in her ear and gave in to him completely when he deepened his kisses.

Cool air brushed her flesh and she knew he’d unbuttoned her gown. He touched her breasts through the thin
fabric of her chemise and she wished he’d removed it. Just like she wished the rest of her clothing was gone. And that his shirt was away from his body and she could touch his warm flesh.

As if her thoughts propelled her fingers to action, she separated the front of his shirt. She skimmed her hands over his chest, then down his arms. She roamed across his shoulders and around his torso to his back.

He moaned and she felt him shrink away when she touched his back but she didn’t let his protest deter her. His back was a part of him just like his arms and his legs and his hands. Perhaps some of the women he’d been with had found his scars repulsive, or maybe all of them had, but she didn’t. This was the part of him that had formed him into the man he’d become. The tragedy that had earned him his scars was why he needed her. She would not let him push her away.

She moved her hands over him, memorizing the feel of him in her arms, then opened her mouth as an invitation that she needed more of him.

The feel of his tongue touching hers was like liquid fire raging through her that ignited every inch of her. Oh, she wanted him. Wanted him even more than she had the first time. Because now she knew what to expect. Now she knew how magical it was with him. She’d gone too far forward and it was too late to go back.

Together they moved across the room to the floral sofa Maggie sat on when she needed a moment or two to rest her eyes after the numbers in her ledgers blurred. He lowered her to the soft cushions and came down over her.

Their lovemaking was swift, their need as insatiable as a drowning man’s thirst for air. One spasm after another shook her body and a second later he shuddered above her. When he collapsed against her she gathered him in her arms and cradled him as if she’d never have to release him.

“I need you, Maggie,
my love,” he whispered against her neck. “I’ll always need you.”

Maggie’s thundering heart skipped a beat and for one second she realized that a life with him might be possible. It had to be possible because she couldn’t imagine living without him. In the same breath, her mother’s words sounded with amazing clarity when Maggie had asked her why she’d married Maggie’s father.

Because I couldn’t live without him.

Maggie finally understood what her mother had meant. The same was true for her. She was just as sure she couldn’t live without Gray in her life. The monumental risks that had held her back before no longer seemed important.

She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, but she didn’t have the opportunity to say the words. Before she could answer, the loud clanging of the alarm bell shattered the silence.

Gray rolled away from her and with a muffled curse pulled on his clothes.

“Stay here until I find out what’s wrong,” he ordered her as he grabbed his jacket and ran for the door. “I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

Maggie quickly dressed, then threw her cloak around her shoulders and ran out
of the room. This was her brewery. Staying here was not a consideration.

She raced down the stairs and out the lower level door. She looked around when she reached the brewery yard but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe the alarm hadn’t been sounded for an emergency inside the compound but outside.

Maggie picked up her skirts and raced to a side exit the workers used when they went home.

The minute she stepped beyond the brewery wall she knew why the alarm had sounded. One of the brewer’s cottages was on fire.