Page 117

The door to his chamber gave way beneath a nudge of his shoulder. He carried her inside and kicked it shut behind them, and the soft click of the latch seemed to close out the rest of the world: the snow, the constables, the long, terrible night. Marina’s whole body was trembling with impatience by the time he set her down upon the edge of the bed, his hands lingering at her waist as though he could not quite bring himself to let go.

“Do not stop looking at me that way,” he murmured in the low light of the chamber.

She did not. She let every last ounce of pride fall away and allowed her face to show him exactly what her heart wanted. She did not merely need him. She loved him. She wanted to spend every Christmas for the rest of her life with him.

Marina leaned forward and pressed her mouth back to his, where she was quite certain it belonged, and kissed him with a hunger that matched his own. It seemed a single kiss was enough to undo even the formidable Duke of Griffin. One of his hands came up to cradle her face, holding her exactly where he wanted her, while the other slid beneath her skirts, up over her stocking and her bare thigh, until his palm pressed against the hot, aching place between her legs.

She moaned into his mouth and caught his face in both hands. The heat of his palm nearly drove her mad. She rocked against it without a shred of shame, seeking more of the sweet friction he offered, and his fingers began to move, circling and stroking until her breath broke into helpless little sounds against his lips. He kissed her deeper, swallowing every one of them, and she felt the hard, insistent length of him pressing against her through his breeches.

“Undress me,” she breathed.

Ambrose obeyed without a word. His lips left hers and found her shoulder, and he caught the ribbon of her bodice between his teeth and tugged until it came loose. The silk slipped down, and her breasts spilled free into the firelight. He did not hesitate. He drew one peak into his mouth and sucked, without using his hands at all, while beneath her skirts his fingers found the tie of her drawers and dragged them down and away. The first stroke of his fingertips against her bare flesh very nearly made her scream.

Marina pressed her hands to the back of his head and held him to her breast, moving against his touch.

“More,” she whispered against his ear, utterly shameless now. “More, Ambrose. Please.”

Like some dark creature of the night, he straightened to his full height and stripped the rest of her gown from her body with ruthless efficiency, then her stays, then her chemise, until she stood before him wearing nothing but her stockings. She shivered, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold. Her gaze darkened as she looked at him, still half dressed and breathing hard, and the words that spilled from her lips surprised even her.

“I want to see you bare as well.”

A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. “Your wish is my command, Your Grace.”

She watched every movement as he undressed for her. Coat, waistcoat, shirt, breeches, each falling to the floor in turn, until he stood before her with nothing left to hide behind. She saw the powerful lines of his chest and shoulders, the faint scars the sun had written across his skin, and the unmistakable, rigid proof of how badly he wanted her. Her lips parted. Without quite meaning to, she let her knees fall open on the edge of the bed, resisting the sudden urge to touch herself at the mere sight of him.

Something about that small, unguarded movement made a ruthless expression steal across his face.

He was upon her at once. He knelt at the edge of the bed, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and put his mouth between her thighs without ceremony. His tongue tasted her in one long, slow stroke, and she gasped and fisted her hands in the sheets. He licked her harder, then softer, then harder again, holding her hips down when she bucked, his tongue finding the small, swollen bud at the top of her sex and circling it until she was writhing.

“Take me,” she managed between moans, her brows drawn together, her voice cracking. “I have had enough of being teased, of waiting, of being …”

The words died on her tongue as Ambrose rose and leaned over her so suddenly that she fell back onto the bed beneath him. Before she could demand an explanation, he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed it in a kiss so deep that she tasted herself on his tongue. The wickedness of it sent fresh heat pouring through her. She closed her eyes, wound her arms tightly around his neck, and kissed him back.

Then she felt him go still.

She knew that stillness. She had felt it in the cabin, in this very chamber weeks ago, in every moment when he had drawn back from the edge and left her aching. She opened her eyes. The teasing had gone out of his face entirely, leaving behind a seriousness that made her fingers pause against his shoulders.

“Marina,” he said quietly, his thumb moving across her cheek. “I meant every word I said downstairs. But I have spent so much of my life believing that I was made to hurt the people around me. And when it comes to you, that frightens me more than I can explain.”

“Ambrose…”

“If there is a child …”

“Then we shall love that child,” she said, “exactly as we love Emma. Whatever comes, we face it together. You promised me.” She smiled up at him, though her eyes had begun to sting. “You are everything I have ever wanted. I have told you so a dozen times. Do not make me say it again with no clothes on.”

A startled laugh escaped him. Then he kissed her as though his life depended on it.

His body shifted over hers, and she felt the blunt heat of him pressing against her entrance. He pushed forward slowly, watching her face the entire time. She was slick and more than ready, but he was large, and there was a sharp, stretching sting that made her catch her breath and dig her nails into his back.

He stopped at once, his arms trembling. “Marina…”

“Do not dare stop,” she whispered. “Only give me a moment.”

He gave her as many as she needed, kissing her eyelids and her cheeks and the corner of her mouth, until the sting melted into a fullness so deep that she sighed. Then she tilted her hips, and he sank into her completely, filling her until there was no space left between them at all.

She held him tightly, kissing him back as he began to move, slow and deep at first, unwilling to leave even the smallest distance between them. She felt every hard inch of him slide out of her and push back in. He caught her lower lip between his own and sucked on it, one hand closing around her breast and squeezing until a moan escaped her and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice gone rough.