C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders

Chapter 22

“Any word as to when your orders will come through to return to the coast?” Greys asked Lucas Cockfield, rocking back on his heels.

“Word is late summer.” The major half-smiled with a shake of his head. “I think we can wrap this damn war up with the new weapons we’re getting down there now.” Cockfield likely knew more, but even so far removed from the Ashanti front, would keep any possibly strategic details to himself.

“Have you met up with your brother yet this spring?” The wager, in Greys’ eyes, ought to come secondary to this. Because there was no promise that the duke’s younger brother would return from the Gold Coast where they’d been fighting to maintain the Anglo stronghold.

Cockfield grinned. “I might have. Blackheart appears to be thriving, as always, but I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Indeed.” Greys swallowed hard. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Diana, who was finally deeming him worthy of her attention, even if it was from ten yards away.

The combination of self-reproach for having ignored her wishes in his own round-about way, and disgust at his lack of self-discipline for doing so, left him ill at ease. He wasn’t used to second-guessing his decisions.

Diana, of course, was now making him pay for it.

He tugged at the lace on his sleeve and then straightened his shoulders.

The orchestra members had resumed their position on the dais, and across from them, one of the regimentals was striding purposefully toward Diana.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Greys said.

“Of course.” Cockfield took a sip of his drink and made a small salute.

Greys moved around the Lord Major, across the floor, and then stepped into Gilcrest’s path, effectively cutting him off.

“Captain,”

“My Lord.” The captain offered a practiced smile. One that Greys didn’t trust for a moment. “If you’ll allow me to beg your pardon, a lovely lady is anxiously awaiting me to partner her.”

“Miss Diana Jones?” Greys confirmed.

“Why, yes,” the man lifted his chin almost defiantly.

“And it is a waltz?”

“The lady has assured me she’d been given the nod to dance it just ten days ago.”

“Ah.” Greys knew this, of course. She’d told him the same while strolling through the silent streets of Mayfair.

Had that really been earlier that morning?

The time spent with her was etched in his brain, perhaps because it had been life-changing. And he wasn’t about to allow another man to waltz with her, to take her in his arms, not when she damn-well belonged in his.

Was he jealous? Dash it all, Greys had never been jealous of anyone.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.” Greys held up a hand to wave a gloved finger. “She’ll be dancing this set with me.”

He marveled that he was willing to come to blows over a dance. Where had this willingness to resort to violence come from?

But then he corrected himself. It wasn’t the dance he was willing to go to blows over, but the woman.

And if need be, he would. He’d learned long ago not to take a stand unless he was willing to follow through with it. But no challenge would be issued. Greys knew this because this soldier lacked character. Gilcrest had tells, and those of the captain exposed him as a coward.

Captain Gilcrest sneered. “I thought you were courting Lady Isabella.” He said.

“You thought wrong.”

“Surely you are not courting Miss Jones?” The young man’s brows rose in a most condescending manner.

But the question gave Greys pause. Was he? He’d made love to her. He’d obtained permission from her brother to ask for her hand—even if that had been a miscalculation on his part. But, for now, he simply needed her to hear him out.

Greys nodded because he was, in fact, courting Diana Jones. Her illegitimacy no longer seemed to matter. When had that happened?

“And I’m the fecking King of England.” Gilcrest’s nostrils flared, but he took a step backward. “Best of luck to you then, Greystone.”

The soldier’s words were nearly enough to earn him a pummeling. If not for the fact that Greys had far more important concerns to attend to, he would have grabbed the blighter by the scruff and dragged him outside.

The man’s intentions toward Diana hadn’t come close to being honorable. Greys sobered to realize that his own hadn’t always been honorable either.

But now—Grey’s clenched his fists at his side—they were.

He strode across the room, his gaze drinking in the way she tilted her head as she spoke, the set of her shoulders, the delicate arch of her back—all of her. He only slowed when he’d arrived at her side.

“My set, I believe.” He touched his fingertips to her elbow. “Miss Diana.”

“Lord Greystone,” Lady Chaswick pinned her gaze on him with a hint of disapproval.

“Ladies, Violet, Posy.” Greys bent forward, executed his formal bow, and then rose.

Diana turned her head to stare up at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. Captain Gilcrest has reserved this set.”

“Captain Gilcrest is indisposed.” Greys was not one to bluff, but in this case, the risk was necessary. She would have denied him if only her sister and Lady Chaswick had been present. But with his cousins and other genteel ladies looking on curiously, to refuse to dance with him would invite scandal. Of which, no doubt, Diana wouldn’t have minded so much for herself but would not wish for Lady Chaswick and her brother. The one thing she cared about more than her independence was her family.

It was something he comprehended all too well.

He stroked his finger over the skin inside her arm, satisfied at the tremor that ran through her.

“How delightful,” Violet commented, earning a look of gratitude from Greys. “I’ve never witnessed the waltz performed more beautifully than when the two of you danced it in the ballroom at Knight House.”

“How kind of you to say, Miss Faraday. Very well.” Diana didn’t resist when he tucked her hand into his winged arm. She then effortlessly matched her stride to his and allowed him to escort her to the center of the dance floor,

It was effortless because she fit.

They fit.

As other couples took their position, she turned and placed a hand on his shoulder, presenting the other for him to clasp.

But she did not look up into his eyes even after the music began and when he steered her into the steps.

“Is my cravat so very fascinating that you must study it throughout the entirety of the dance?”

“Your cravat did not break a promise.”

Greys nearly laughed at her response. He shouldn’t be goading her right now. He should take this opportunity to make his apology—to begin to make amends.

“You haven’t always refused to meet my eyes.” He reminded her.

With any luck, he could have her forgiveness before the set was halfway over.

“I thought you were a different person than you’ve proven to be.” He barely heard her softly spoken words.

How had he not considered her stubbornness?

“I should not have gone to Chaswick against your wishes.” Rather than explain the urgency he’d felt that morning, he would begin his apology now.

“And yet, you did.” She stared over his shoulder now, her lovely lips set in an obstinate line.

“Won’t you please forgive me?” Greys dipped his chin, seeking to capture her gaze. “Please?”

Her lower lip trembled. “There is nothing to forgive.”

For a moment, Greys thought he had succeeded. But she still refused to meet his eyes.

Instinctively, he pulled her closer, annoyed that she was nearly succeeding in ignoring him even as he led her in a waltz. When her breasts brushed against his coat, a soft gasp escaped her lips. It was the first honest emotion he’d heard from her since—

Since very early that morning.

His visit with Chaswick had not been precipitous dash it all. In fact, it had taken place far too late.

Greys lifted her arm, and her body responded in a perfect twirl.

He recalled how she’d teased him as he’d led her around the ballroom at Knight House to nothing but a few simple notes pounded out on the piano-forte. And how, on more than one occasion, he’d caught her dancing to no apparent music at all.

“I’m sorry, Diana.” The words caught in his throat. “In my defense, I feel an urgency to bring you under my protection.” Time was of the essence. He’d done more than compromise her. He’d released inside of her.

But his need went beyond to marry her went beyond protection.

“As I said, there is nothing to forgive, my lord.”

“It was ‘Zeke’ not twelve hours ago.” That wasn’t at all what he’d meant to say. He was going to have to learn better how to manage his balance in her presence—that, or live more precariously in general.

“I told you—” She would erect even more defenses if he allowed it.

“And I told you,” Greys tipped his head forward and squeezed her hand, “that talking with your brother was non-negotiable.”

“Talking with him? Surely you didn’t tell him…?”

“He knows enough.” Greys contemplated telling her about the manservant who’d followed her the night before but was afraid that might only anger her. “What I didn’t tell him, he guessed.”

“Why would you do that? I’m not sure I can ever face him again.” Diana winced and then dropped her forehead to his shoulder three times.

A little refining was in order. Although he appreciated having her this close.

“But your brother approves. He and Lady Chaswick are happy at the prospect of our match.”

Diana lifted her lashes to meet his gaze, and the misery in her eyes might as well have punched him in the gut. “I thought you understood my feelings. I cannot accept that sort of protection. I cannot become your wife. Please, Zeke, try to understand.” She forced a smile that did nothing to erase her regret…

Or her longing.

“I cannot take you for a mistress.” He stepped forward and, supporting her back and shoulder, leaned her into a graceful dip.

She stared up at him, unblinking. “I cannot marry you.”

Frustrated, Greys held her there, hoping to hear a different answer, but when she didn’t supply it, drew her upright again and continued in the dance.

They could not have this conversation in public.

“Damnit, Diana.” His curse came out on a hiss. He wanted her for his wife and marchioness. He had to have her in his life. “I have to marry you.” Having her in his life was no longer debatable.

“No,” she returned.

Much more of this, and Greys would grind his teeth down to nothing. He spun her around, directing them toward a line of terrace doors, and before she could protest, danced her outside onto the Ravensdale’s extensive verandah.

He’d been exceedingly naïve when he’d believed that overcoming his apprehensions were his most significant barrier to spending the rest of his life with her. How had he not anticipated that her objections to marrying him would be made with such fervor?

Of course, she would be apprehensive about taking a title, but she was brave. She could do anything she set her mind to. Why couldn’t she see this?

“Take me back inside,” she said. And yet, she shuffled along beside him.

“Only after we’ve had this out.” Her hand in his, now, he dragged her into the garden along a shadowed walkway.

But as they arrived at the edge of the garden, he realized he was acting like a savage brute. He jerked to a halt and scrubbed a hand down his face. This was no way he’d ever allow himself to treat any woman.

“I’ll take you back if you want. I just…”

He dropped her hand, drawing in a deep breath, expecting her to turn back in the direction from which they’d walked.

But she stayed.

“I… I love being with you, Zeke.” She swayed toward him. “But marrying you would be a mistake—for both of us.” Why was she so resigned to this?

“It doesn’t have to be.” Greys stepped forward.

She was shaking her head. “We’re too different. It’s impossible. I can’t… I can never be…”

“Diana…” Greys settled his hands on her waist, backing her up against the stone wall that surrounded the garden. “Not every nobleman is like your father. Not every marriage in the Ton is like your father’s was.”

“Your parent’s—”

“Loved one another, but…” He swallowed hard. “My mother wasn’t strong like you. And I… am not my father.” The epiphany came as a shock. If he’d never known Diana, would he ever have recognized this truth? Being with her shed light on his past.

He was not the same man as his father.

Or his grandfather.

Grief-stricken to have imagine he’d lost her, Greys closed the gap between them, holding his breath.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she whispered, melting against him. “It’s just that…”

“Shh…” Greys inhaled her feminine scent, grazing his mouth along her jaw, “I told you once that this feeling—” he rubbed his hand down her shoulder, her back “—couldn’t last. But what if I’m wrong? I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you. I’ve never needed a woman like I need you. I dream about you.” He dropped his palm to the curve of her hip and squeezed. “You are a revelation. Diana, you are my revelation.”

She shivered, and Greys pulled her even closer. What must he do to change her mind? To help her believe in herself? To convince her to believe in the two of them?”

Diana tilted her head back, and her breath mingled with his.

She was a woman of passion. She responded to actions more than words.

“Little one,” He breathed and then claimed her mouth. This was her language. When it came to communication, their bodies would succeed where their words had failed.

He gathered the material of her skirt in one hand and hitched her leg around his waist.

“Zeke,” she hummed his name, almost vibrating as her arms encircled his neck.

“Diana.” His hand shaking, he slid it up her leg. “What about this?” He stroked her intimate folds. Was he shaking from nerves or from need? Or was it fear that he couldn’t convince her to change her mind?

He didn’t deserve her.

Greys had never had to fight for anything in his life, but he would fight for her.

The desire thrumming through his veins destroyed every preconceived notion of what his future would be. He only knew the present—the now. This breath. This beat of her heart—the pounding of his.

“Does this not change everything?” He thrust a finger inside her and was surprised at how unsteady he sounded. Would he ever have known this feeling existed? Would he ever have experienced something so raw and untamed?

Her very nature had coaxed him to life.

He added a second finger and stroke higher, inside, adjusting his position when she whimpered, repeating the rhythm when she moaned.

“Yes, Zeke, touch me.”

He slid them back out and then reached inside again. “Convince me you don’t want this. Explain to me how you don’t want this forever.”

In answer, her arms tightened around his neck, deepening their kiss. Throbbing need pulsed beneath his palm, wet with her desire. Loving her was so much better than talking.

So much better than explaining or coaxing with words.

He’d had a taste of this woman, but he needed more. He would never be satisfied.

Her hands slid down his front and fumbled at the fastenings on his trousers. Her impatience matched his.

And as gentle but searching hands wrapped around his aching cock, he growled. “Diana.”

He needed inside of her.

Inside of her body, but also her heart—all of her.

“Need you.” Was that her whisper or his?

Greys lined himself at her entrance, whipped his arms down and around her knees, and with a single thrust, promised her what words never could.

That all-consuming emotion wasn’t going to go away.

“What do I have to do?” He gasped into her neck. “What do I have to say?”

“Deeper.” Her arms tightened, and she simultaneously squeezed his cock with her inner flesh. “Don’t say anything. I want this. I want you like this.”

Greys' mind warred with his body, one wanting to read her eyes, to understand her thoughts, her needs—and the other to fill her completely.

Deeper, she’d commanded.

He increased his pace, strengthening each stroke even as his arms shook from holding her. He’d never comprehended the anarchy of lust—the need to consume and be consumed, unchecked by reason. He felt this in his cock, but also in his chest, his belly—he tasted her, she filled all his senses. The tumult reduced his vocabulary to his most basic of needs.

“Want. You. Now.”

And for once, he wasn’t managing his feelings, but his feelings were managing him.

“Zeke.” Liquid heat convulsed around him, drawing him deeper, closer, and whether it was by luck or serendipity, she reached her completion in the exact moment his control snapped.

Shattered bliss exploded, and their shared release conquered him.