Deeply In You (35 page)

“I was very foolish.”

“Not foolish. Helena, you are right. You are right, and I was wrong.” He should get down on one knee. Was lying in a bed, looking up at her good enough? “Helena, there is something I have to ask you—”

“Oh heavens,” came a cry from right outside the door to his room. “The baby is coming!”

Two thoughts hit Grey at once. His sisters had been listening at the door.

And Jacinta was about to have her baby.

He had no chance to ask his question of great import of Helena, because she rushed out of his room at once to help his sister.

Babies were not born beautiful.

His tiny niece possessed a cone-shaped head that looked squashed flat on one side. Grey had to fight the instinct to fix it, to remold it into a round, baby-like shape. Inside a circlet of lace-trimmed blanket, a red face peeked at him. The nose was upturned, the cheeks heavy, and tiny, dark eyes stared at him before the little face screwed up and a wail filled his bedroom.

“How does someone so small make so much sound?” He shared a look with Helena. She held the baby—he didn’t trust himself to gather his new niece in his arms with a wounded shoulder.

“I have no idea.” She giggled. “Does the sound bother you?”

“No, but it makes me wish I could move heaven and earth to make her happy and make her stop.”

Helena smiled, which made her eyes glow brilliantly.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured. To him, she looked like a miracle. Jacinta had begun her labor with the breaking of her waters, and in mere minutes after her pains started, the child had come. His sister’s strength had amazed him. And Winterhaven had tried to appear calm but had brought brandy to Grey’s room, and had admitted how nervous he was and how much he admired Jacinta. “Marriage,” Winterhaven had said, “is the making of any man.”

“Not you too,” Grey had groaned.

“Lady Winterhaven asked me to bring her to you,” Helena said. “Of course, Lord Winterhaven was nervous about letting me carry his daughter.”

“I think he would be nervous about carrying her himself.” He sighed. “All their children are fortunate to have such loving parents.”

He heard Helena fight back a soft sob.

“No tears,” he said gently. “Take my sweet niece back to Winterhaven. There is something I want to ask you. I need to be prepared to take action, and the little one—as adorable as she is—will be in the way.”

Mystified, Helena returned the baby to the countess’s bedroom. Lady Winterhaven put her baby to the breast and nodded with satisfaction. “I hope it works. A helpless, precious newborn is the most dangerous weapon I have in my arsenal.”

“A weapon?” Then she knew. Lady Winterhaven hoped seeing the baby might spark Grey to want to start a nursery of his own.

The thought made her heart ache. But he must marry. More than that, he
should
marry. She must accept that she should step aside and allow him to take a bride and fill his nursery. He would be a superb father.

Of course, the thought of him gazing lovingly down at another woman while he cradled their child was heartbreaking.

In the corridor, a flurry of activity began. Servants hastened down, carrying pots of hot water toward Grey’s rooms. Curious, Helena followed.

Rain streamed down again, just as it had on the day they had confronted Blackbriar. Helena would never forget that day, for she’d been so terrified she would lose Grey forever. But he’d survived, Maryanne and the children were on the mend after their frightening experience, and Lady Winterhaven had given birth to a healthy baby girl with admirable lungs.

There had been terrifying moments, but also blessed ones. She had almost held her breath the entire time Grey was recovering from the pistol shot. She wanted to see him again to savor having him safe and sound.

A door near his bedchamber was open. A claw-foot tub stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by folded towels. Grey stood in the room, a towel wrapped around his hips while his valet redressed his wound.

“You are having a bath.”

“Don’t leave,” he said quickly. With a wink to her, he dismissed his valet. The slender man looked a bit shocked but bowed and withdrew, leaving them alone in the room—at least until more servants arrived with more water to fill the tub.

“We both are in need of one,” Grey said. “You need a good soaking in a hot bath after staying awake for days with me.” He flashed a grin. “We would both get done quicker if we share one.”

“We shouldn’t be so scandalous in your sister’s house,” she said awkwardly.

“Perhaps. But I can’t wait another minute.”

Helena had planned to step aside, but she couldn’t resist this. Just to have a little more time with him. And in a warm bath? It was the definition of heavenly. “All right.”

Grey took her hand and propelled to the dressing room, which contained the tub, then he opened a door that connected to a balcony. A balcony that adjoined this room and his bedroom.

Grey’s breath, warm and gentle, brushed over her ear from behind. As she always did, she quivered. She was going to lose him to marriage. Her head accepted it, her heart refused to, and her body . . . her body simply ignored the truth. She just
wanted
him.

“It’s so hot and sultry out,” she whispered.

“Do you know what I want to do to you?” he murmured. “I can’t do it in here. Not while a parade of servants is in my dressing room, preparing the bath.”

“Where can you do it?”

He put his finger to his lips. Then he put his hands on his shoulders and urged her to step outside onto the balcony. It was the way she imagined a Turkish bath would be, even hotter in the summer rain than it had been before.

Grey closed the door, a thick towel draped over his arm, which made her curious. Holding hands, they went to the end of the balcony, outside his bedroom, where the drapes were closed. In only minutes, she was wet.

“I want to do this,” he said.

With care, he got down to his knees, laid the towel in a thick square, then lay on his back with his head, shoulders, and the wounded area of his chest supported by the towel.

She watched as he undid the towel around his hips. His cock bounded up, looking strong, straight, and eager.

“Are you certain?” Helena asked. “I fear you are going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Grey said. “This time, love, I want you on top.”

Lying on the wood deck, he drank in the sight of her. Helena’s soaked dress clung to her rounded hips and her tiny waist and cupped her full bosom like eager hands. In her wet clothes, with her hair in soaked waves around her, she looked like a sea nymph—

Hell, too flowery. She looked like a wanton with her gold, wet hair falling around her, her dress plastered to her round breasts and shapely legs. The proper governess wasn’t gone; she had just made good friends with the wanton governess.

Helena hiked her skirts up to expose damp legs and soaked stockings tied just above her knees. She straddled him, resting her rump on his groin, squashing his aching erection.

He loved it.

Sliding his hand under her derriere, Grey fumbled with his cock, holding it upright.

Wet hair suddenly slapped his cheeks as Helena leaned forward. Her mouth captured his. Erotic pleasure almost scalded him. Having her on top, refreshing drops rolling off her hair to his face, her mouth playing with his . . . it was heaven.

Making love with the warm rain teeming on them.... Funny, he’d never guessed there was anything more heavenly than heaven.

With Helena on top, he was essentially a prisoner. He didn’t care. He put his hands at her waist, held her steady, kissed her deeply.

A lifetime of this....

A future of this to burn away the ice-cold fears and guilt and damnable memories of the past. He moved his hand and pressed one finger between her legs through her clinging drawers.

She jerked away from his lips. “I want you, but you deserve more. You deserve to be married.”

“I intend to be married,” he growled.

She jolted back. “I—I am so glad. But if you are going to find a bride, I can’t be—I mustn’t be your mistress.”

“You are going to be my bride.”

“What?”

“I intended to ask you formally after making love to you.” He clasped her wrists, drew her down so his lips were an inch from hers. This made much more sense for a proposal of marriage. For when she said yes, he could kiss her.

“Helena, will you marry me?”

“I—oh! No.”

She wrenched free of his arms. Clawing at her skirts, she freed her legs from the folds. Befuddled with lust, he still couldn’t understand what she’d said. He thought it was “no.”

She half rolled, half stumbled off him.

Wait, it
was
no.

Grey moved fast, wincing in pain, and caught her green skirt before it was out of his reach. “Why? Is it because I was such an idiot before? Or is it because I’m so ruined by my past? You know most of it, but I’m willing to reveal anything to you. I trust you, Helena.”

He took a deep breath. He never spoke of his past; he’d tried to stow it away in the dark recesses of his mind, like jamming forgotten items in a cupboard. But that hadn’t worked. “My mother was the one to punish me. You know that. She hired servants to grab me out of my bed and drag me to the cellar. There, I would be tied up and beaten. And throughout the whole thing, she would touch me. Kiss my head, stroke my cheek, give me all this damned affection. At first, when she did it, I thought it meant my punishment was to end. Eventually I realized the touching was a game to her, some sick way of showing her superiority. My father was never faithful to her, always telling her she was not beautiful or she was too old. She wanted power. I guess that is why I never wanted to be touched. But you changed me, Helena. You made me see how beautiful it is to touch, to love, to share. You showed me the rewards that come from trust and love. I said you could never change me, and I was wrong. I honestly am a changed man.”

She stared down at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t say no because of you. Grey, you must see—you are a duke and I am a ruined former governess. How can we marry?”

“We get a license and go to a church and say vows before a minister. That’s how.”

“I am not—”

“You are more worthy of being a duchess than any woman I know. I love you. Now that you’ve made me see sense and convinced me to fall in love, you can’t expect me to lose without a fight. No one knows I ruined you. You’ve been masked when out with me in public. Your servants know but know better than to speak of it. They know they would face my wrath if they did. So I’m not letting you go, Helena. I want to spend my future with you. God, say yes. Finally I have a future to look forward to—but it would be empty without you.”

“You love me?”

“I’ve loved you from the first moment I pulled you away from the carriage and you glared at me with disapproval. You are the only woman who expected me to be a better man than I was. Not because you thought I was capable of it, but because you thought I already was that man. You taught me that love has to be enough.” He gave her a playfully pouting look. “Don’t prove me right, Helena. God, don’t prove me right.”

She put her hand to her mouth. Her lashes dipped. Droplets sparkled in them. From the rain or from tears?

“Yes,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I will not prove you right, Grey. Love is more than enough, and I can’t give it up either.”

She giggled, and his heart took flight at the happy sound. “You know,” she said. “I did have a fantasy—a secret, naughty desire—when I was a governess. And it was you, Grey. My wildest, most wicked desire has always been to be with you.”

He felt his chest swell with pride, his heart with happiness. His cock . . . well, it was already swollen to bursting, eager and ready.

She came back to him, climbed on him. This time she took hold of his cock, positioned it upright, and sank down on him.

God, it was heaven.

“What has always been your wildest and most wicked fantasy?” she asked.

“I don’t know about wickedest. But the dream I thought would never come true, the dream I clung to when I was young, was that I would find someone who loved me,” he admitted. “Someone who was good, kind, sweet, and perfect. You’ve always been my dream, Helena. A dream I was too afraid to even let myself have.”

She caught her lip in her teeth. She began thrusting on him, and he moaned with pleasure. And relief. He was ready to explode, and he was fighting for control.

Hoarsely, he went on, “Now my dream is to be married to you and start on our enormous brood of children. I want Maryanne to live with us too. She adores you, and I know together we can put her past behind her and give her happiness.”

“Yes, we can.”

“I hope your brother will accept me, Helena. I forgive him for those stories in the news sheets. It was not his fault. What of your sisters—will they forgive me for my shouting and threats? I will take care of them all, if they will let me. If you will.”

“Oh, Grey, they will be so happy. You’ve made me so very happy.” She frowned, but he could see the teasing in it. “How enormous a family are you speaking of?”

“Maybe a dozen children?” Grey lifted his hips, thrusting into her hopefully. “I was thinking of funding schools and homes for blind children, children less fortunate. We could use our position and your wonderful skills with children—” He broke off, then said, “I am so deeply in love with you.”

“And so deeply in me,” Helena whispered, giggling with joy.

She gazed down at him. She never knew she could be so happy. He’d said she’d taught him how to love. He had taught her that dreams did come true.

“After,” she whispered, “If we can be alone, I’d like you to tie me up.”

“I didn’t think you would want that,” he said softly.

“It’s something erotic and fun that we share. Something wicked and special. I rather like submitting to your erotic will.”

His green eyes blazed. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I love sharing it with you. That’s what I want, Helena. To share happiness and pleasure with you.”

He thrust wildly into her, rubbed her clit with his thumb, and gave her an orgasm that turned the hot, drumming rain into bursting fireworks.