December Heart

by Farmer, Merry

  “I missed this,” she sighed.

  “You did?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I thought you were cross with me.”

  Mariah laughed. “I was just cross, and out of sorts, and, if what Domenica tells me is true, suffering from early signs of pregnancy.”

  Peter shook his head, sliding his hands down her arms to rest at her sides. “It’s too early, isn’t it?”

  “To feel as if my body is going through some kind of momentous change?” She grinned as his hands brushed across her stomach. “I don’t think so.”

  A hint of worry pinched Peter’s face. “You don’t think we should…abstain, do you? To keep the baby safe?”

  Mariah giggled, stroking his worried face. She hardly saw the lines left by decades of trouble and laughter now. All she saw was the tenderness that radiated from him. “I’m no expert,” she said, “but somehow I don’t think we could do anything but good by loving each other.”

  His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “I do love you, Mariah. I love you so much.”

  She held her breath, mouth open, heart overflowing. “I can’t see why. I’ve been nothing but trouble for you since we married.”

  “You’ve become everything to me,” he said, closing his arms around her fully. “You’ve been such a useful sounding board with the mines.”

  She smirked. “The mines have been doing quite well on their own, and the surveyor’s full report is due any day now.”

  “And I don’t know how I would have handled William without you there to support me.”

  Her brow flew up. “I’ve caused more problems where William is concerned than I’ve solved. Without me around, William would have stayed in London.”

  “But he still would have been my heir.”

  She smiled. “Now you don’t have to worry about that.”

  He stroked her back, letting his hand settle on the curve of her backside. “What if this one is a girl?”

  “Then we’ll just have to keep trying.”

  His mischievous grin faltered. “What if something happens.”

  “What if I miscarry?”

  He nodded, lowering his eyes.

  “I won’t.” She rested her hands on his face and lifted onto her toes to kiss him. “I’m not Anne.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said with growing confidence. But the pinch of worry was still in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave you, not when I’m finally happy.”

  She blinked, leaning back. “Who said you’re going to leave me?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not a young man.”

  Her lips twitched into a wry grin. “Peter, we’ve discussed this before.”

  “I know, I know.” He kissed her lightly. “But chances are I’ll die long before you do and leave you alone.”

  “But I won’t be alone,” she said, stroking his face. “I’ll have this little one, and hopefully plenty more with me.”

  “But—”

  “And youth didn’t stop Robert from dying before his time.”

  He stilled, regret filling his eyes. “I forgot about Robert.”

  “So did I,” she smiled. “Probably for the first time in five years. It’s rather nice, actually.”

  His smile returned. “Yes, it is nice to forget the past when it has finished being useful.”

  “The point is, we don’t know how long we’ll have together. For all we know, you’ll live to be a spritely one hundred, and our children and grandchildren will roll their eyes at us as we hold hands and steal kisses while tucked up on the sofa together, covered in blankets.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He brushed his fingers through her hair and kissed her with a sudden burst of passion. “We’d better get started on those grandchildren right away.”

  Mariah laughed out loud. “We’ve already taken care of that, remember?”

  Peter shrugged, taking a half step back to work loose the buttons of his vest. “We’ll have to start practicing for next time, then.”

  Mariah bit her lip. “I agree.” She reached to help him with his buttons.

  Within seconds, their fingers had tangled as they worked to free him from his clothes. Mariah eventually gave up and let him continue on his own while she shimmied out of her nightgown and climbed into his bed. And even though she had spent almost every night at Starcross Castle in the other room, it felt as though she were in her own bed at last. Peter’s scent enveloped her, and the excitement of what was to come had fire racing through her veins.

  When Peter returned from his dressing room naked and started putting out the lanterns around the room, Mariah didn’t know whether she wanted to watch him or to urge him to hurry up. She understood now where his powerful physique came from. Memories of him with sword in hand and his shirt sticking to his sweating back returned to her, making her wriggle in anticipation.

  “At last,” she sighed when he doused the final lamp and climbed into bed with her. Their bodies molded together, his hardness a perfect match to her softness. The thickness of his erection pressed against her thigh, taking her breath away.

  “Why did we stay apart so long?” he asked as he kissed her cheeks, her lips, her neck.

  “I can’t remember,” she said, arching into him. “Something silly.”

  His only response was a hum as he kissed and licked his way down her neck to her shoulder. “You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, continuing along her collarbone and the top of her chest toward her breast.

  “And you are very good at tasting.”

  He laughed, the vibrations filling her. He reached her breast and took his time as he stroked a hand up her side and lifted her breast to meet his mouth. Mariah gasped at the heavenly sensation, better even than she remembered it. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled it, circling his tongue around and around until she was tight and aching. She threaded her hands through his hair, pressing her fingertips into his scalp.

  “At the risk of embarrassing myself,” he said suddenly, glancing up to meet her eyes with a look of fire. “I should tell you that it drives me wild when you tug on my hair like that.”

  “Really?” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or hum with pleasure at his confession.

  “Particularly when I am in a certain position, engaged in a particular activity.” His cheeks were bright red, even as his eyes shone with desire. The juxtaposition of boldness and bashfulness left Mariah tingling and aching.

  “Which activity is that?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  He lowered to kiss her breast tenderly once more. Mariah caught her breath at the sensation. And then he began to move lower. Not only that, but he drew his arm down her side, over her hip, and across her thigh to hook around her knee. The simple gesture carried with it a world of pleasures that Mariah had yet to explore, but it was the way he drew her knee up and to the side that brought a host of recent memories rushing in on her. She remembered this. She remembered the way he had touched her and kissed her in her most intimate spots when they were newly married. The memory of everything they had done before swirled with the gentle kisses he laid on her stomach now, doubling the ache of expectation building inside of her.

  When he shifted to draw her other leg up, exposing her center fully, she could barely breathe with anticipation. He inched lower, out of her reach, as he planted kisses along her inner thighs, but it was the waiting, burning part of her that longed to feel him.

  He kissed his way higher and higher up the inside of her thighs until he was so close to her that she cried out in frustration.

  “Patience,” he whispered, his breath sending shivers through her.

  She laughed at his ridiculous command and caught her hands in his hair the way he said he liked. He rewarded her by closing his mouth over the hot wetness of her folds, and she let out a groan of satisfaction. His hands traveled up her thighs to spread her farther as he tasted her, delving deep, tightening the coil of pleasure inside of her. She’d missed the sensati
on so much, missed the intimacy of being with him like that. The trust that it took for her to open herself to him, to let him slide his tongue along her most intimate parts, was more potent than any raw pleasure.

  She’d been too long without him, without this kind of love in her life, and when he circled his tongue over the fiery nub of her desire, completion rushed through her before she could control it. Her body burst into life, filling with liquid pleasure, as her inner muscles throbbed with her climax. But as beautiful as it was, it was incomplete.

  “I love you, Peter,” she called out as the tremors continued to shake her. “I love you.”

  He pulled himself up the length of her body to look into her eyes. The combination of joy and surprise that she saw there broke her heart. “You do?”

  “How could you doubt it?” she asked.

  When he hesitated, she arched up to kiss him, putting her whole heart into it. She circled him with her arms and legs, wanting nothing more than to be one with him so that he could see just how much he meant to her. She dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his back as he smoothed a hand over her side, lifting her hips to meet his. The hard length of him rubbed right where she wanted him, and she sighed at the sensation.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I need you, Peter. I need you inside of me.”

  “I love you,” he murmured, close to a growl, and pushed inside of her.

  It was bliss. He felt so perfect filling her, stretching her. She lifted her leg and ground against him, working to find the perfect way for their bodies to join. He let out a groan of pleasure as she moved in just the right way, taking him in deeply. He moved inside of her, slow at first as he kissed her lips, her neck. His hand cradled her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. Every sensation was heavenly.

  And then he grew more insistent, thrusting faster and with more purpose. She arched her hips to meet each thrust, which only encouraged him. The languid pleasure he was giving and taking turned to something more urgent. She could feel the muscles of his arms, back and thighs harden as he took her in earnest. She moved her hands lower to cup his backside, digging her nails in to encourage him.

  “Mariah.” He breathed her name as an urgent cry while something primal took over. Tension raced through him, and as it did she squeezed her inner muscles around him. Nothing had ever felt so good, so whole, and so wonderful as holding him and giving him pleasure. The whirlwind of her own pleasure swirled harder and harder as he abandoned everything staid and refined to make love to her with the power of instinct alone, and in no time she was crying out with each of his thrusts until completion swallowed her whole once more.

  He let go moments later, letting out a rough cry as he came inside of her. She clung more tightly to him as his body tensed, then slowly, beautifully relaxed. Everything about the moment was perfect. Everything except the twinge of regret she felt over having wasted so much time not being with him.

  Never again, she swore as he collapsed to her side, weary and spent. She rolled with him, keeping her arms around him and her body nestled against his as they floated down from the heights they had reached together.

  “I love you too, my dearest darling,” she panted, threading her fingers through his.

  His arms tightened around her, and happiness seemed to tingle in every part of her. Never again would she let anyone or anything come between her and the man she loved.

  Chapter 19

  The sense of calm that pervaded Mariah when she awoke the next morning, nestled against Peter’s side, her hand on his steadily rising and falling chest, was like returning home after a long and arduous journey. She smiled, snuggling closer to Peter, saying a quick prayer of thanks that what was wrong had been righted. She wouldn’t have given up the way she felt, body and soul, for the world.

  Although improvements could always be made.

  Her smile grew mischievous as she drew her hand downward from Peter’s chest to his stomach. She understood so much more about him after all they’d been through, painful though it’d been. He craved affection, needed it expressed boldly. And having seen his body in motion as he tackled not only sparring matches with Lord Malcolm, but riding and banging about his estate with the energy of a man half his age, she was eager to learn more. Where many men his age had turned plump and let their waistline grow and their muscles soften, Peter had only grown leaner, harder.

  The muscles of his stomach and thighs weren’t the only things growing harder as she explored his body. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling as his staff stirred and came to life the closer she came to touching it. It seemed unspeakably bold for her to caress that part of him, to learn his feel and reactions, but everything her mother had told her about asking for what she wanted came back to her. Peter was her husband, and she had every right to signal that she wanted to be intimate with him.

  Holding her breath, she let her wandering hand slip between his legs, cupping the sack beneath his staff. She had so little experience with male anatomy that this part of him was a mystery to her. He twitched slightly, drawing in a breath as she tested the weight of him, rolled him through her hands. His skin was hot, the contrast of textures alluring as her hand moved from his sack to the rigid length of his penis. She knew what his instrument was capable of, the memories of being filled by him making her ache and shiver in expectation.

  She brushed her fingertips along the underside of his shaft, which had hardened to the point of standing straight up against his abdomen, then circled around his head. The involuntary groan that escaped from him betrayed that he was awake at last, but he said nothing as she continued her exploration. She wriggled closer to him, hooking her leg over his and grinding against his hip as her hand traveled down to the base of his staff once more. She closed her hand around him, a jolt of longing zipping through her at the thought of how thick he was and how amazing he felt inside of her, then began moving up and down with lazy strokes.

  He let out a deep sound of pleasure and raised one arm above his head, as if signaling that he wouldn’t stop her, whatever she wanted to do. Heat radiated from his body.

  “Do you like that?” she asked in a hopeful whisper.

  “So much,” he sighed.

  She continued to stroke him with one hand, but shifted so that she could look at his face as she pleasured him. The heavy-lidded look of bliss that he wore sent spirals of longing through her. He was so easy to please, so patient with her, even though she didn’t know what she was doing. He could easily have grown bored with her, or worse, disliked her boldness. She couldn’t forget what he’d said about Anne, the way she pursued him, and the inequality of their interactions. She suspected he’d only glanced the surface of what was a painful chapter in his life. But all of that seemed forgotten now. The only thing she saw as she watched him react to the way she sought to give him pleasure was enjoyment.

  She wanted more. She wanted to give herself to him as much as she wanted him to feel pleasure. With a nervous swirl low in her stomach at what she was about to attempt, she drew her hand away and lifted her body up to straddle him. The bedcovers slipped down to her waist, exposing her breasts, her stomach, even her spread thighs and her sex to his view. He sucked in a breath and drank in the sight.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  She blushed from head to toe. “I feel beautiful when I’m with you.”

  He lifted toward her, and she bent to kiss him. Their mouths met in a dance that was becoming familiar, yet ever new. Her heart sang as their tongues twined. He relaxed back against his pillows, his hands sliding across her sides, up to knead her breasts. When he pinched her nipples just enough to send a jolt of sensation through her, she gasped and arched toward him. But it was when his hands traveled down her back to take possessive hold of her backside, that her desire reached a fevered pitch.

  “I want to….” she started, not knowing how to communicate what she wanted. She flexed her hips, rubbing across his rigid staff in a way that sent unexpected spears o
f pleasure through her. “I want…how do I….”

  Pleasuring herself against him felt divine, but he knew what she truly wanted. He took hold of her hips and moved her to the right position, then grasped himself, bringing his erection to her entrance. She bore down on him, gasping as he slid inside, filling her to the fullest.

  It was different, joining with him that way, than it had been with them before. Mariah felt awkward and uncertain, but she wanted him so desperately that she pushed on. She sheathed him to his root, gasping as his tip pressed against something deep inside of her. The sensation made her restless, but she wasn’t sure where to go next.

  Without words, Peter stroked her spread thighs for a moment, then took hold of her hips, urging her to lift up. She followed his lead, moving over him until he almost came free of her. Then he pushed her down. The friction was so heady that she wanted more, and, with his guidance, she found herself moving slowly into a rhythm that turned her blood to fire.

  Her inexperience melted away as she became used to the movements and gradually sped up. Peter’s breath became deep and ragged, and he moved his hands from her hips, up her sides, to cradle her breasts. The combined sensations of him stretching her from the inside and holding her breasts was magical. She tilted her head back and let out a sound so wanton that she never thought she’d hear it from her own lips.

  Peter made a matching sound, which sent the coil of tension building inside of her spiraling tighter and tighter. She moved on him at a frantic pace, suddenly aware that he had a full view of her body in the throes of passion. And from the sound of things, he loved what he was seeing.

  That thought tipped her over the edge, and her body burst into shimmering, throbbing pleasure. She cried out, bearing down on him hard as the tremors turned her into a being of pure pleasure and light. Peter grasped her hips again, pushing into her with a few more, pounding strokes until he, too seemed to ripple with tension, then release, then satisfaction.

  Mariah lost all will to hold herself upright and spilled across his chest, burying her head on the pillow next to him. He closed his arms around her as they lay panting and sweating together, his hands stroking her back and backside.