“I believe my horse decided.” Rory kissed her again. “I haven’t told you how brave you are.”
“I don’t want those people to get us again, Rory.”
“They won’t. Come, we need to see our families, then find a magistrate.” He took her hand again.
“Do you think she’s dead?”
“I think it likely, or injured, as my aim is quite good.”
They entered the room seconds later to find both their families assembled. Rory still held her hand in his and wasn’t about to let it go. They could make what they wished of that.
He loved this woman deeply, and didn’t care who knew that.
Rory walked along the halls of his ancestral home, knowing everyone was asleep. In the three days since they’d arrived at Greystone, news had reached them that Lord Trockler had been arrested and Madam Layla was indeed dead. Rory had heard that like Jackson, Trockler believed Madam Layla loved him. Men were fools for love, he thought, smiling. He certainly was.
He and Ivy had talked endlessly about anything and everything. They’d walked for hours over the land at Greystone, wrapped in scarves and coats.
She made him laugh, and he made her sigh when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, each becoming more heated than the last.
Rory didn’t tap on the door, as he had no wish to wake anyone but the inhabitant of this room. Slipping inside, he allowed his eyes seconds to adjust before making his way to the bed.
She slept on her side, hands under her cheek, and he allowed himself time to just stand there watching her. When she made a small snuffling sound, he smiled. Moving to the fire, he stoked the embers and then placed another log on. Returning to the bed, he bent to kiss her cheek.
She stirred.
“Wake up, Ivy.”
A hand shot out of the darkness and connected with his nose.
“Ouch!”
“Rory?”
“Who else were you expecting?” He blinked a couple of times and waited for his eyes to stop watering.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see you, as I have a question to ask you.”
“And it could not wait until tomorrow?”
“It couldn’t.”
She sat up, resting against the headboard. Her nightdress was white and buttoned to her chin, her hair in a long braid. The love he felt for this woman was fresh and new, and he cherished it.
“Can I share your blankets? It’s cold out here.”
Not hesitating, she moved over, lifting the covers for Rory to slide beneath.
“I’m sure my aunt would be shocked,” Ivy said.
“Very likely. Ivy, tell me you will marry me.”
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
“I did wonder when you were going to ask.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I may need to think about it.” She had a smile on her lips that begged to be kissed off. Rory eased her back down on the mattress, then took her mouth beneath his. Where one kiss stopped, another started. Sliding his hand under the hem of her nightdress, he touched the soft skin of her thigh. Blood pounded through him as he looked at what he had uncovered. Her skin glowed in the firelight. He wanted to explore every curve he’d exposed. His woman, Rory thought.
“I want you very much, Ivy.”
“Make love to me, Rory.”
His hands shook as he took her nightdress up and off her body. She undid his robe, and Rory shrugged out of it. He was naked beneath.
“I will never hurt you, love.”
“I know.”
He braced himself over her. Her fingers touched his shoulders, then trailed down his chest, and he felt everywhere they landed, as they left a trail of fire in their wake.
Firelight cast her skin in a soft glow. He touched a breast, stroking the curve, watching as she inhaled.
“So beautiful.” Rory kissed the hard peak of her nipple, and the breath shuddered from her body. She responded to his every touch and kiss, as he did hers.
He kissed and lavished attention on her breasts as she writhed beneath him. He licked the length of each of her ribs, then traced wet circles on her stomach.
“Let me kiss you everywhere, Ivy.” He moved lower.
“I don’t understand.” The words turned to a small squeak as he parted her legs and placed his lips there, in the most intimate of places. The tugging on his hair soon stopped, and her fingers fell away to grip handfuls of the bedding. He stroked his tongue along the damp folds and tight bud. His torture was slow and deliberate as Ivy moaned and begged him for something she’d never had before. He slid two fingers inside her, and she came to a shuddering climax.
“Oh, Rory,” she whispered against his lips when he had climbed back over her body. “That was wonderful.”
“There is a lot more, my love, and I will enjoy teaching you.”
Her hands stroked his sides, then over his back. Her touch drove his passions higher, and as he was nestled between her open thighs, he could feel the damp heat of her passion.
“I want you now, Ivy.”
“I want that too.”
“There will be pain.”
“I know.” She brushed her lips over his.
“Feel me, sweetheart, guide me into your body.”
Her hand touched him, fingers circling the hard length, her touch exquisite.
“You’re so hard.”
“For you, Ivy, only for you.”
She guided him in, and Rory pressed forward. She was tight and wet, and felt so good he had to use every ounce of control not to thrust hard inside her. This was her first time. He’d not make the memory a bad one.
He breached her innocence, causing a loud hiss from Ivy.
“I’m sorry.”
“Kiss me, Rory.”
He did, pouring everything he felt into it. His need and love for her. Only when she relaxed did he withdraw and thrust forward once more. Her muscles gripped and released him, and Rory had never experienced anything like this before. Making love to the woman who carried his heart added so much more to the experience. He stroked her breasts as he continued a gentle rhythm until he felt the tension inside her once more. Only then did he thrust harder.
His climax left him breathless, as did hers.
Rory had enough energy to roll off her to his side. He turned her back to his front and pulled up the covers.
“Are you all right, Ivy?”
Her hand patted his face.
“I love you,” she whispered. Seconds later, her breathing slowed. Rory smiled into the darkness, then closed his eyes and slept for the first night of many to come, holding his love in his arms.
The End
About Wendy Vella
Wendy Vella is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and historical romances that have sold more than a million copies worldwide.
Known for compelling and uplifting stories laced with witty humor, sensuality and intrigue, Wendy has hit the bestseller ranks many times with reader favorites, the Langley Sister series, Lords of Night Street series, Sinclair & Raven series, and contemporary small-town series' Lake Howling and Ryker Falls.
An incurable romantic, Wendy found writing romance a natural fit. When her children were small, she would find writing time in the early hours of the morning, sitting quietly with her grandfather's old typewriter while the family slept. These works, however, she says, will never see the light of day! Wendy joined Romance Writers of New Zealand and started honing her craft, and after years of contests and conferences, she was finally ready to publish her first book in 2013.