She clutched the linen beneath her cheek. “Why?”
“Because I cannot obtain a special license in London.”
Lorrie stilled, then looked up and up until she met his gaze. “A special license.”
He nodded.
“Then you do want to marry me? And you… Oh, wait. One question at a time. You do want to marry me?”
“Yes.” His thumb stroked her cheek so lightly and so gently she felt the sting of tears.
“But you told me—”
“What I told you still stands. I’m not worthy of you, but since you do not seem to agree, and since I took advantage of you in Edgware, I will do my duty and marry you.”
Well, it wasn’t romantic, but it was the best she could hope for from him. And he’d admitted he loved her. He loved her!
“I can’t marry you and have you live here at Langley’s.”
“Oh, I don’t mind! We can fix it up with some bright curtains and we’ll put Welly’s bed in that corner and—”
He put a finger over her lips. “I have another proposal. Draven has offered to assist me in a new venture. I will open a boxing club and give instruction in pugilism.”
Lorrie’s mouth dropped. She would never have thought of such an idea, but it really was the perfect role for him. She could see he thought so as well. His eyes were bright with excitement.
He nudged her chin to close her mouth, then covered her lips with his finger. “I told Draven no before because I am no businessman. But if you consent to marry me and if you will help me—”
“Of cour—”
He tapped her lips again. “If you will read contracts and legal notices and keep the books, then I will give it a go.”
Lorrie nodded, and Ewan removed his finger. “I will do all of that and more, but on one condition.”
He raised a brow.
“That is only my role temporarily. Because I know that you will read, Ewan. I’ll teach you or we will find someone who knows how.”
He took her hand, such love in his eyes, and she knew it was rare for others to show faith in him and hers meant all the more because of the death in his life.
“And I think Lieutenant Colonel Draven’s idea is a marvelous one. You shall be on par with Gentleman Jackson in no time.” She laced her hands around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. “But even if you were a beggar, I would still love you.” She kissed him lightly. “I love you no matter what, Ewan Mostyn.”
He made a low sound in his throat, and she understood the sound was one of desire. His hands came around her waist, pulling her close so she fitted against him. This big, hard body would be hers. Ewan would be hers for the rest of their lives.
His mouth came down on hers, his kisses far harder than hers had been and that much more satisfying. She pressed harder against him, sliding her hands down his back and yanking his shirt out of his trousers, then pushing it up and up until he had to stop kissing her to drag it over his head.
He would have lowered his lips to hers again, but she took a step back. “I will never tire of looking at you,” she said, trailing a hand down his chest and watching the muscled skin pebble with goose flesh.
“Nor I you.”
She needed no further urging and untied her hat, then began to undo the fastenings of her pelisse. His gaze seemed riveted to her movements, but he said, quietly, “Perhaps we should wait until after the wedding.”
Her hands stilled. He must think her a harlot to behave so. She glanced up at him. “If that is what you want…”
“Is it what you want?” he asked, voice thick.
“God no.”
“Good.”
And then she was in his arms again, his hands working on her clothes as deftly as his mouth teased the sensitive skin at her neck. By the time she wore only a chemise and stockings, she was breathing hard and her body felt as though it were on fire.
Ewan pulled her to the bed, swept the valise and the clothing off it with one gesture of his hand, then laid her down. Just as quickly, he tugged her up again and pulled the chemise from her.
Lorrie laughed when he tossed it carelessly behind him. She bent to untie her garters, but he took her hands. “Leave them.”
Hands on her waist, he eased her into a sitting position on the bed and knelt between her legs, spreading them. Then he unfastened the fall of his trousers and that glorious male part of him sprang free. She had not imagined the size of him before. He was large and thickly veined and absolutely beautiful. She ran a hand over him, marveling at the smooth skin overlaying the hard iron of his erection.
He pushed his trousers over slim hips and tight thighs, then stood still while she explored his member. She ran her hand up and over it, sliding her hand around it, though it was almost too wide for her to close her fingers. The blond hair at its root was soft and springy, and she touched it, then delved lower to cup the sac hanging beneath.
He inhaled sharply, and she smiled up at him. “You like that.” Determined to torture him more, she continued her exploring, but she had not gone far when his knee nudged her legs open farther and pressed against that intimate part of her. Now it was her turn to inhale sharply as he rocked gently against her, causing warmth to spiral into her belly.
Her hand moved faster on his rod, and he finally caught her wrist to still her. “You don’t like it?” she asked.
“I won’t last long if you continue.” He gave her shoulder a slight push and she fell back on her elbows. He came down beside her, his mouth on hers, one hand on her belly, the other cupping her breast. His rough hands on the tight bud of her nipple sent shivers through her, and when the hand on her belly drifted down, sliding into the crease between her legs, she let out a low moan.
He continued to kiss her while his hand stroked between her legs, causing fire to race up her body as she strained for the pleasure she knew he could give her. One of his thick fingers entered her, and her hips bucked. He released her breast and cupped her cheek. She opened her eyes and found him looking down at her.
His expression was so tender, so loving her heart hitched. She loved him so much. And this—this exquisite pleasure between them—was the expression of that love. She had never loved anyone like she loved Ewan. There would never be another man for her.
He traced her cheek, holding her gaze while he slipped another finger inside her.
“Oh yes,” she moaned. “Oh, but that feels good.”
The heel of his hand pressed up, sliding over the tight little bud there. Lorrie opened her legs wider and he nodded his approval. Then, with what seemed infinite patience, he slid his fingers in and out, brushed his hand or his thumb over her nub until she was gasping for breath. “Please. Please.”
Nothing existed now but the two of them. Nothing and no one else mattered.