“Yes, Marcus.”

His eyes were dark and incandescent as he stared at her, and she sensed that there was a multitude of things he wanted to tell her. However, all he said was, “It’s time for your bath.”

She could have done it herself, but Marcus insisted on undressing her, and bathing her as if she were a child. Relaxing in his care, she watched his dark face through the soft veil of mist that rose from the bath. His movements were deliberately slow as he soaped and rinsed her body until she was pink and glowing. Lifting her from the slipper tub, he dried her with a length of toweling. “Raise your arms,” he murmured.

She glanced askance at the worn-looking garment in his hand. “What is that?”

“A nightgown from the innkeeper’s wife,” he replied, pulling it over her head. Lillian pushed her arms through the sleeves and sighed at the scent of clean flannel settling around her. The gown was an indistinguishable color, and it was far too large for her, but she felt comforted by its tworn, soft folds.

Curling up in the bed, Lillian watched as Marcus bathed and dried himself, the muscles in his back rippling, his superbly fit body a pleasure to behold. An irresistible smile curved her lips as she reflected that this extraordinary man belonged to her…and she would never be quite certain how she had won his well-guarded heart. Marcus extinguished the lamp and came to bed, and Lillian cuddled against him eagerly as he slid beneath the covers. His scent rushed over her, fresh, edged with the crispness of soap and the faintest hints of sun and salt. She wanted to drown in the wonderful smell of him, she wanted to kiss and touch every inch of his body. “Make love to me, Marcus,” she whispered.

His shadowy form loomed over her while his hand played in her hair. “My love,” he said, a note of tender amusement in his voice, “since this morning you’ve been threatened, drugged, abducted, handcuffed, and carried halfway across England. Haven’t you had enough for one day?”

She shook her head. “I was a bit tired before, but now I’ve gotten my second wind. I couldn’t possibly sleep.”

For some reason that made him laugh.

His body lifted away from hers. She thought at first that he meant to move to the other side of the bed, but then she felt the hem of her nightgown being raised. Her bare legs tingled as the cool air brushed over her skin. Her breath quickened. The thick cotton was drawn higher, higher, until her br**sts were exposed, the tips hardening. His mouth was soft and hot as it descended to her skin, searching and nuzzling, finding places of unexpected sensation; the ticklish place at the side of her ribs, the velvet undercurve of her breast, the delicate rim of her navel. When Lillian tried to caress him, her hands were gently pushed to her sides, until she understood that he meant her to lie completely still. Her breaths turned even and deep, the muscles in her stomach and legs quivering as pleasure chased like drops of quicksilver over her body.

Marcus nibbled and kissed his way to the secret dampness between her thighs, and her legs spread easily at his touch. She was open and utterly vulnerable, every nerve sizzling with aching excitement. A high, faint sound escaped her throat as he licked into the dark triangle, bolts of delight running through her with each stroke of his tongue along the rosy, slippery-soft skin. His tongue danced and tickled and opened her, and then he settled in for minutes of sweetly rhythmic teasing, until sensation weighted her limbs and her breath came in weak cries. Finally he slipped his fingers deeply inside her, and she groaned, struggling, cl**axing, shuddering as if she might come apart from pleasure.

Dazed, she felt him pull down her nightgown. “Your turn now,” she mumbled, her head settling on his shoulder as he gathered her against him. “You haven’t…”

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll have my turn tomorrow.”

“I’m still not tired,” she insisted.

“Close your eyes,” Marcus said, his hand moving to her bottom in a circling caress. He brushed his mouth over her forehead and her fragile eyelids. “Rest. You’ll need to regain your strength…because once we’re married, I won’t be able to leave you alone. I’ll want to love you every hour, every minute of the day.” He nestled her more closely against him. “There is nothing on earth more beautiful to me than your smile…no sound sweeter than your laughter…no pleasure greater than holding you in my arms. I realized today that I could never live without you, stubborn little hellion that you are. In this life and the next, you’re my only hope of happiness. Tell me, Lillian, dearest love…how can you have reached so far inside my heart?” He paused to kiss her damp silken skin …and smiled as the wisp of a feminine snore broke the peaceful silence.

Epilogue

To the Right Honorable the Countess of Westcliff Marsden Terrace, Upper Brook Street, no.2 London

Dear Lady Westcliff,

It was both an honor and a delight to receive your letter. I beg to offer congratulations at the glad tidings of your recent marriage. Though you have modestly professed that the match with Lord Westcliff is all to your advantage, I must take the liberty of disagreeing. Having had the fortune of making your acquaintance, I can attest that the advantage belongs to the earl in winning the hand of such a charming and accomplished young lady—

“C harming?” Daisy interrupted dryly. “Oh, he knows you so little.”

“And accomplished,” Lillian reminded her in a superior tone, before turning back to the letter from Mr. Nettle. “He goes on to write…‘Perhaps if your younger sister were more like you, she might also find someone to marry.’ “