The Mysterious Mr. Heath (11 page)

“If I do something you dislike, you can tell me to stop,” he murmured.

“I’m not sure I could deny you anything, Matthew,” she confessed.

“It pleases me to know that,” he said, his fingers toying with the vulnerable flesh right at that most forbidden of openings. The sensations he was evoking were entirely new and unexpectedly arousing, as if all of her sensitive points in that part of her body were connected in ways she had never realized.

He covered his mouth with hers, his tongue ransacking every crevice as he worked the tip of his finger into her tiny opening. The pace of his breathing was increasing along with hers as they both drew closer to the edge, and when she flexed the inner muscles of her vagina around him, the reaction was immediate.

“You like?” she asked, doing it again.

“It feels as if you are milking my cock with your beautiful pussy,” he gasped. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

She couldn’t have stopped if she had wanted to, her body now desperate to find fulfillment. When he took the tip of her breast in his mouth and sucked hard on the tender nipple, it was the final straw. With him deep inside her still, she pressed that most sensitive part of herself hard against the base of his cock, closing her eyes and crying out as the waves of ecstasy crashed over her in quick succession. Her climax was all the sweeter, for it sated a deep yearning that had gone unsatisfied for so long in his absence.

She laid her head on his chest, and he kissed her brow tenderly before rolling them both over, his shaft still nestled deeply within her as he lay her back against the downy mattress.

“My turn,” was all he said, and she could only smile, still caught up in her afterglow. “How I have longed to have you this way,” he said, pulling back out slightly and then thrusting hard within her, his cock possessing her completely. His face set in concentration, a bead of sweat on his brow, he stroked himself into her hard and deep, as if he sought to brand her with his possession. As he drew closer to his own completion, she watched his lids shutter down to cover the blue eyes she so adored.

“Oh yes, yes,” he cried out, but when he tried to pull out, she locked her legs around his buttocks, keeping him within her as he shuddered to his climax deep within her.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice muffled against her neck as his body relaxed against hers.

“I don’t know exactly,” she confessed, uncertain about her motives. “It was foolish, I suppose, but I wanted to experience your completion as you do with me.”

He pulled himself up and out of her and lay back against the adjacent pillow. “And what if you were to conceive a child?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at her.

“At my age, it is less likely, to be sure. But should it happen, I can promise one thing,” she said.

“And that would be?”

“If it is a girl, she won’t be named Laurence. Or Matthew, for that matter. No matter how much her father begs me.”

Matthew chuckled and gathered her against him, and they lay together quietly, the dark room lit only by the waning embers of the fire.

“Do you recall the case where Judge Mansfield said that any concealment of information voids a contract?” Laurence asked a few minutes later, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat as her fingers toyed with the dusting of dark hair across his chest. “Do you think he meant for that to apply to marriage as well?”

“I think what’s important is that the two people in the marriage do not conceal information from one another. However, Mansfield was referring to insurance and not marriage, as you well know,” he said. “May I inquire why this topic is of interest to you right at this particular moment?”

“Were you serious when you said you had always wanted a place in the countryside?” she asked.

“I was. Were you?”

“I was,” she said, lifting her head to find his eyes in the darkness. “I have an idea…”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but I am listening,” he said.

“Perhaps there might be a place somewhere in the countryside, far away from London, where Mr. Heath might be able to go unnoticed if she were temporarily to become…Mrs. Hastings.” She hesitated. “Assuming you still wish to marry me.”

“That is a correct assumption,” he said, brushing a lock of hair off her face. “But I am struggling to see you in the role of good country wife. Baking bread and spinning yarn doesn’t seem in character for the Laurence Heath I know and love.”

“And here I thought you were seeking a wife, not a servant,” she responded, and he laughed.

“Fair enough. But will Mrs. Hastings wear skirts?”

“It depends on whether Mr. Hastings will promise that he and his wife will be equals, regardless of her attire,” she answered.

“I will do my best, Laurence,” he said, his voice serious now. “But I worry that I will muck it up somehow, even when I don’t mean to. My intentions were good when it came to Emmeline and Lord Worrell, and I still managed to upset you.”

“Perhaps I could have been more…flexible,” she allowed. “But you were so arrogantly sure that you were right and I was wrong simply because you are a man and thus possess superior judgment.”

“I am as fallible as any man, or woman for that matter,” he admitted. “But I am also not afraid to admit when I am wrong and try to learn from my mistakes. We may disagree, but I shall never again question your decision-making solely on the basis of your sex.”

“That comes as a huge relief,” she said drily. “For I would prefer to avoid murdering you and becoming a widow so soon after becoming a wife.”

“There is something else for you to consider, and I am probably a fool to bring it up for it won’t help my cause any,” he said slowly. “If we marry, the law will give me complete control over you. I fear that you would find it burdensome and grow to resent me for it, even though it is not within my control nor is it my intent to treat you other than my equal.”

“Yes, I have been thinking of that,” she said quietly. “The implications for the firm are not to be dismissed lightly.” She was quiet for a moment and then something occurred to her. “I think I have an idea. What if we make our own rules?”

“You’re the expert at that,” he said drily.

She ignored his remark. “You mentioned once that your family was originally from Scotland.”

“My grandparents on my mother’s side,” he affirmed.

“What if we were to travel there and marry by handfast?” she said. “Handfasting is as legally binding as a marriage in Scotland, but I don’t believe it has weight under British law. We’d have to confirm that, of course, but I think I recall a case that revolved on that very point. We could resolve inheritance and those sorts of issues through separate legal agreements that would be recognized by English courts.”

“That just might work,” he said, nodding. “But the topic of inheritance brings me to two very important issues that will not lend themselves to legal solutions, no matter how clever. What would I tell my two sons about our relationship?”

“I don’t have all the answers worked out yet,” she admitted. “While I was able to keep my secret from a very young age, it is not the sort of burden that a child should be forced to bear.” She took a deep breath. “Would you consider allowing me to be a family friend—a beloved uncle of sorts?”

“I would consider that, if we could agree that we would tell them the truth when they were older, for I don’t want there to be such lies between my children and me,” he said.

“That is entirely up to you for I have had little dealings with children,” she said. “I do know that I love you, and I will support whatever you decide. And if you will be my partner, not just in law but also in life, I will do my very best to make you very happy.”

“Knowing that you love me makes me very happy indeed,” he said, pulling her down and capturing her mouth with a kiss as he grasped her hand in his own and placed it on his cock, which was fully erect. “Shall I show you what else makes me happy?”

“Please do, solicitor. Please do.”

Loose Id Titles by Ariel Atwell

The Mysterious Mr. Heath

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The CAVANAUGH TRILOGY Series

Seven Days

Ariel Atwell

Ariel Atwell has been a fan of romance novels since grade school when she used to get in trouble with her teachers for reading Harlequins during math class. A fan of history and fiction, she was inspired to try her hand at writing the type of a romance she herself enjoys reading—well-written historicals, with highly sensuous themes, main characters who aren’t children…or childlike, and plot that doesn’t make her want to throw the book across the room in disgust. An ardent fan of weekends in the country, fine wine, and the starting line-up of the Washington Nationals baseball team, Ariel aspires to be like Freya, the Norse goddess of love, lust, beauty, and sorcery, who was renowned for her ability to herd cats and for whom the day Friday was named.

A former journalist, she lives in a Victorian house in Washington DC with her husband of more than twenty years, two nearly grown children, one charming dog, and two cantankerous cats.