“And?” Lillian encouraged, linking her arms loosely around his neck.

He set his hands at her slender waist and moved them down to grasp her strong, sleek thighs. “And that every erotic dream I’ve ever had about your magnificent legs pales in comparison to the reality.”

“You’ve dreamed about my legs?” Lillian wriggled as she felt his palms slide up her inner thighs in a lazy, teasing path.

“Oh yes.” His hands disappeared beneath the drooping hem of the shirt. “Wrapped around me,” he murmured, his tone deepening. “Gripping tightly as you rode me…”

Lillian’s eyes widened as she felt his thumbs stroking the fragile outer folds of her sex. “What?” she asked faintly, and drew a ragged breath as she felt him open her with gentle massaging strokes. His fingers were doing something wicked, their artful movements concealed by the shirt. She shivered and watched his intent face as he used both hands to toy with her, some fingers filling her, others flirting skillfully with the sensitive little crest that seemed to burn at his touch. “But women don’t…” she said in breathless confusion. “Not that way. At least…oh …ah…I’ve never heard…”

“Some do,” he murmured, teasing her in a way that caused her to moan. “My reckless angel …I think I’ll have to show you.”

In her innocence, she didn’t comprehend until he lifted her again, and positioned her, and helped her to slide along the rigid, engorged length of his arousal until she was fully impaled on him. Shocked beyond words, Lillian made a few tentative movements, obeying the low murmur of his voice and the patient guidance of his hands on her hips. After a while she found a rhythm. “That’s it,” Marcus said, now sounding breathless. “That’s the way…” Reaching beneath the shirt once more, he found the aching nub beneath the hood of her sex. He circled it with his thumb in an electrifying counterpoint to her downward thrusts, with a soft pressure that sent new heat dancing across her nerves. His steady gaze held hers, drinking in the sight of her pleasure, and the realization of how utterly focused he was on her caused the ecstasy to ripen until she shuddered in hard, deep-seated spasms, her body and heart and mind filled with him. Gripping her waist, Marcus held her firmly as he ground upward, letting his own pleasure pump and surge through her.

Feeling witless and utterly drained, Lillian let herself collapse over him, her head coming to rest on the center of his chest. His heart pounded and thundered beneath her ear for long minutes before it eased into something approaching a normal rhythm. “My God,” he muttered, his arms sliding around her, then falling away as if even that required too much effort. “Lillian. Lillian.”

“Mmm?” She blinked drowsily, experiencing an overwhelming need to sleep.

“I’ve changed my mind about negotiating. You can have whatever you want. Any conditions, anything that’s in my power to accomplish. Just put my mind at ease and say you’ll be my wife.”

Lillian managed to lift her head and stare into his heavy-lidded eyes. “If this is an example of your bargaining ability,” she said, “I’m rather worried about your corporate affairs. You don’t surrender this easily to your business partners’ demands, I hope.”

“No. Nor do I sleep with them.”

A slow grin spread across her face. If Marcus was willing to take a leap of faith, then she would do no less. “Then to put your mind at ease, Westcliff…yes, I’ll be your wife. Though I warn you…you may be sorry you didn’t negotiate when you learn my conditions later. I may want a board position on the soap company, for example…”

“God help me,” he muttered, and with a deep sigh of contentment, he fell asleep.

CHAPTER 23

Lillian stayed in Marcus’s bed for most of the night. She woke up now and then to find herself enveloped in the heat of his body and the soft layers of linen and silk and wool. Marcus must have been exhausted from their lovemaking, for there was no sound and little movement from him. As morning approached, however, he was the first to awaken. Lost in a contented slumber, Lillian protested as he roused her.

“It’s almost daybreak,” Marcus whispered in her ear. “Open your eyes. I have to take you to your room.”

“No,” she said groggily. “In a few minutes. Later.” She tried to burrow back into his arms. The bed was so warm, and the air was cold, and she knew that the floor would feel like ice beneath her feet.

Marcus kissed the top of her head and eased her to a sitting position. “Now,” he insisted gently, rubbing circles on her back. “The maid will be up to light the grate…and many of the guests will go shooting this morning, which means they will rise soon.”

“Someday,” Lillian said grumpily, huddling against his powerful chest, “you’ll have to explain why men find it such an unholy joy to go outside before it’s light, and wander through muddy fields to kill small animals.”

“Because we like to test ourselves against nature. And more importantly, it gives us an excuse to drink before noon.”

She smiled and nuzzled into his shoulder, rubbing her lips against the sleek male skin. “I’m cold,” she whispered. “Lie with me under the covers.”

Marcus groaned at the temptation she offered, and forced himself to leave the bed. Lillian immediately tunneled beneath the covers, clutching the soft folds of Marcus’s shirt more tightly around herself. However, he returned soon, fully dressed, and he dug her out of the bedclothes. “There’s no use complaining,” he said, wrapping her in one of his robes. “You’re going back to your room. You can’t be seen with me at this hour.”