Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2) Maggi Andersen (best short novels of all time TXT) 📖

“A housemaid told us about the man who killed Alex. She said he tried to kill us all.” Bella shivered. “Why would he do such an awful thing?”

Carrie frowned. “I don’t know why some people are so evil. But fortunately, most people are good. And they’ve gone to prison, and can’t hurt anyone, anymore, dearest.”

Bella jumped up. “I can’t wait to return to Elm Park with Scotty tomorrow and see my puppy. I’ve decided I must be patient, concentrate on my studies, become proficient in the French language, deportment, and dance, and wait for my Season.”

“Scotty will be pleased you feel that way.” Carrie smiled, hoping it would last. “Tell Jeremy I want to see him, will you, please?”

As Anna rearranged Carrie’s hair, Jeremy came in and stood beside her. He picked up an earring and twirled it.

Carrie took it from him. “Are you looking forward to school?”

“It will be good to see the fellows again, I suppose. I’ve missed playing cricket.”

She searched his face. He looked like a different boy these days. The haunted look in his eyes had gone, but it disturbed her he’d found out about the murder. “Nothing worries you?”

He shrugged. “What should worry me? Do you think Nicholas might take me to see another ruin during my next holiday?”

She smiled. “You’ll have to ask him.”

He shuffled his feet. “Is that all you wanted to say? I was about to have some cake, it’s got silver frosting.”

“Yes, that’s all. But you might kiss me goodbye.”

“Girls always want to kiss a fellow.” But he obligingly bent over her and kissed her cheek.

“I know. It will get worse, too,” Carrie said, trying not to laugh.

Jeremy widened his eyes. “Good grief.”

She stood. “Thank you, Anna.” With one more glance in the mirror, Carrie left and went to the stairs. There were many people she wanted to say goodbye to. Recently acquired friends and relatives who warmly welcomed the Leemings into the fold. She imagined her father smiling down at her with that quizzical, amused smile of his before he became ill.

She made her way down the stairs, planning to find Gwen and Winston and thank them for their perfectly wonderful wedding breakfast, then paused on a step to remember their wedding waltz. The way he looked at her as they danced made her draw breath. She was smiling when she reached the hall. Nicholas stood with a foot on the bottom step, smiling up at her.

“Was that smile for me?” he asked, putting an arm around her when she reached him.

“I shan’t tell you, you will become far too conceited.”

He spun her around with a wicked smile, his eyes filled with laughter. “Tell me, or I’ll pick you up and run off with you. It will cause gossip for years to come.”

She eyed him carefully. One never quite knew with Nicholas. She remembered him carrying her into the ballroom to the gasps of the guests. “You wouldn’t. Would you?”

“You think I wouldn’t? I’m growing impatient,” he said, and there was such desire in his eyes, she trembled.

Carrie placed her hands on his shoulders. “Of course I was thinking of you, darling. You fill my thoughts, my heart, and my soul.”

Nicholas enfolded her in his arms, his mouth finding hers in a passionate kiss.

“Well, you might wait until the honeymoon,” Gwen said from the doorway. “You’ll scandalize the guests.”

Nicholas smiled into Carrie’s eyes. “I doubt it. I think they’ve forgotten us.” He took Carrie’s hand, and they walked back into the ballroom, which was filled with lively laughter and music from the fiddlers, while couples danced a Scottish reel.

“Where are you two going for your honeymoon?” Dominic asked from the dance floor where he danced with a young lady.

“It’s a secret,” Nicholas replied, drawing Carrie onto the floor for one last dance.

“He won’t even tell me,” Carrie said. “Only that my maid must pack for a warmer climate.”

“That’s Nick for you.” Dominic laughed and shook his head.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nicholas thought the marchioness’s cream and gold suite, with its light and elegant chairs and sofas, was an appropriate setting for his beautiful bride. “Leave us, Anna.”

When her maid bobbed and left the room, Carrie placed her hairbrush down carefully on her dressing table with a shy smile.

He had known once he’d committed himself to love, it would be forever. He had tried to ignore his feelings, tried to tell himself he would be better off alone, and all the while, Carrie slipped into his heart and became everything to him. And if he should ever lose her, he would lose himself. It was a startling thought.

Carrie’s hair was a like burnished gold cascading to her waist. Her deep brown eyes captured his, and something primal ignited between them, sending hot blood rushing through his veins.

Nicholas was familiar with the sexual fire between lovers, but nothing ever came close to this. His deep love for her and all they had shared over the previous months, which bound them together, became imbued with a hot, electrical charge and a fierce yearning to make her his.

He closed the short distance between them.

With a soft moan, he enfolded her slight body in his arms. In her lacy pink peignoir, her soft breasts, freed of the undergarments, pressed invitingly against his chest.

“Carrie.” His lips brushed against hers as he spoke, then he took her mouth in a forceful kiss, breathing in the feminine scents of her warm, perfumed skin.

When he broke away, she smiled demurely and reached up to trace across his smooth, freshly shaved chin with a finger. “Mmm. Your soap smells divine.”

Her attempt to appear calm didn’t fool him. He pressed a kiss to the rapid pulse in her throat. “So do you, darling.” His lips trailed across her