The Return of Lord Conistone (35 page)

‘I should have waited,’ she breathed. ‘Darling Lucas, I know I should have waited in Hampshire, but then I thought,
why wait any longer?’

Lucas was laughing, a low, delicious sound as he drew his wife into his arms. ‘Alec. I’ll tear a strip off him’.

‘You won’t, will you?’ She was smiling back, almost mischievously. ‘Once, my lord Conistone, you paid six guineas for me’.

‘On board the
Goldfinch
…’.

‘Exactly. And I merely want to prove to you that you’d made a good bargain, you see!’

He gave a shout of laughter, then, ‘Expensive,’ he murmured,
‘vastly
expensive, let me see..’. He pulled her into his arms with a low growl, burying his face in the loose abundance of her hair, and she melted gladly, so gladly into his embrace.

Just for a moment earlier, waiting for his and Alec’s return, Verena had thought,
Lucas will be tired, he might be dismayed to see me here. He has such important business to deal with, such important people to see
.

But—no. He was still her adored Lucas. He was swinging her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing; laughing, she clasped her hands round his naked shoulders, her heart racing so wildly, so erotically at the silken feel of those muscles rippling beneath taut skin that she felt almost faint.

‘So long, my lord,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been so long’.

‘You need wait no longer,’ he murmured ardently. He was laying her, ever so gently, on the bed. And then he was pressing kisses to her throat, to her neck, as he quickly loosened the ribbons that held her ridiculous gown together, his fingers grazing her breasts, which ached and stiffened for
more. Then he was thrusting off his breeches and moving lower, his tongue tracing a hot line down to her abdomen. She gasped because he was parting her thighs, kissing her sweetly at that tiny nub of pleasure, his tongue probing intimately until she dragged her hands through his thick dark hair and groaned aloud her need.

His own desire was pulsing heavily. Lithely he moved his sleek, strong body up the bed, and she clung to him, murmuring his name, declaring her passionate love as she kissed his chest, his shoulders, his hands.

‘There was I thinking you would be waiting at home, my lady,’ he murmured teasingly, letting his fingers play with the taut peaks of her nipples. ‘Sound asleep in your solitary bed and safely out of mischief..’.

‘And aren’t you glad I’m not?’ she breathed, ravenously running her hands along the strong, smooth contours of his shoulders.

Lucas’s blood was roaring through his veins. At his groin his erection throbbed, hot and heavy; he was so hard for her that he ached. He bent to kiss her breasts, flicking his tongue back and forth over her nipples; his shaft pressed hard against her belly, and she was moving, writhing against him, letting her silken legs open to the force of his powerful thighs.

‘Lucas,’ she whispered, her eyes molten with need. ‘Please..’.

It was a moan of acute desire, answering the desire that surged so relentlessly, like a tide, through every sinew of his body. Verena arched herself up towards him, and he covered her swollen mouth with his, thrusting deep with his tongue. And, taking his weight on his shoulders, he poised himself above her and penetrated her deeply, deliciously.
‘Verena’.

She clung to him in rapture. And he held her there, for
long moments of bliss; held her on a knife-edge of sublime sensation as he slowly, deeply pleasured her, until, with a moan, he lost himself in those sweet depths, was plunging faster and faster; and then there was nothing in the whole world but the two of them. Verena, crying out his name, soared to a pinnacle of pleasure so all-consuming that if she had not been clinging to Lucas, she feared she would have been swept away to oblivion.

In the silent house, somewhere, a clock chimed two. But Lucas, holding her tightly, did not want to sleep yet. Not now this woman who was the centre of his world was back in his arms.

And it seemed she felt the same, for she nestled close to him with a little sigh of contentment, her clouds of hair like a rich curtain across his chest and shoulders. She breathed, ‘Tell me. Tell me all your news, my love’.

So he told her, making light of all the hardships and dangers. But she knew. She knew what this man had been through, out of honour, out of duty. Her heart filled with emotion as she listened to his terse account of the long siege of Lisbon. She knew, as she stroked his tired face, that as Wellington’s aide Mr Patterson he’d done his utmost for his country, and more.

When he’d finished, he gathered her in his arms so her cheek was cushioned by his shoulder and murmured, ‘Now tell me about home’.

Gladly, she told him the things she knew he’d want to hear. How the Wycherley and Stancliffe estates were prospering, and how the villagers had drunk to his health on New Year’s Eve.

‘And how are you finding life as the grand Lady Stancliffe, my love?’ He touched the tip of her nose teasingly.

‘Oh, I fulfil my duties exceedingly well!’ she declared archly. Then she laughed, and proceeded to tell him how
she’d helped David with the birthing of a foal one night in February, and how she’d only last week made a dozen huge Simnel cakes with Pippa and Cook ready for Eastertide. ‘And in short,’ she concluded, ‘I carry on just as before. Mama is quite appalled!’

‘And I am delighted,’ he told her softly, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her lips.

This was more than lust—this was true love. Fulfilment. Happiness. Home was wherever Verena was.

At first Verena had been anxious that Stancliffe Manor would be shadowed for her, by painful memories. But then she realised that with Lucas at her side, everything was different. It had also been decided that David and Pippa and their growing family—Pippa was expecting another baby—would move from their farm into Wycherley Hall, for Lady Sheldon, Izzy and Deb much preferred London.

‘Deb and dear Izzy,’ Verena informed Lucas as she nestled closer in his arms, ‘have so many suitors, Lucas, that Mama is near to fainting for joy at every ball they attend!’

‘Are you quite sure you, too, don’t want to enjoy a month or two of London parties, like your sisters, and order endless new gowns?’

She pretended to shudder. ‘Oh,
absolutely
sure!’

He gave a sigh. ‘I know. You want to get back in time for the spring sowings, is that it?’ he teased.

‘Naturally’. She laughed, taking his hands in hers, caressing those long fine fingers, then looked up at him from under downcast lashes, almost shyly. ‘Lucas, I just want to be with
you
. Home is wherever you are’.

He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her. ‘I love you so much, Verena. You’ll have to get used to hearing that, again and again. You won’t grow tired of it, will you?’

‘Never,’ she said, laying her head contentedly against
his chest and feeling his strong, steady heartbeat. ‘Never, Lucas, my love’.

She curled against him with a little sigh.

Home was indeed being in this man’s arms. The candle had gone out, leaving the room in darkness, but she knew that, at long last, the brightest of futures beckoned, for both of them.