Her appreciation for Trevor’s style of dress was forgotten as her own circumstance came to the forefront as he stared, rather meaningfully, at the crumbs on the plate before her.
“Lorelei said you were unwell,” he said, giving her leave to ignore his initial statement, for which she was thankful, knowing she’d never have divulged such wishful thinking to him.
“I’m fine,” she was quick to advise. “Perhaps I overdid it today. An earlier bath has put me to rights once again.”
He inclined his head in receipt of this, his eyes passing over the plate again. “The Shrewsbury cakes?”
Nicole nodded, assuming he might now chastise her for her late-night scrounging, or at the very least, for not having summoned a servant to deliver any request to her.
But he surprised her, as she’d begun to think only Trevor could, by asking, “Is there more?”
Again, she nodded, lifting her hand and pointing a finger vaguely toward the larder.
Trevor came fully into the kitchen, while Nicole wrapped up her own dressing gown more tightly about her. He stopped near her, indicating her empty plate. “May I?”
“Of course,” she said, sliding it closer to him. He picked up the plate and disappeared then, stepping into the other room. Nicole heard the cupboard door open, and then moments later, close and he reappeared, a generous slice of cake in hand. He sat on another tall stool, the one used most often by herself, and extended his hand for her fork, which she passed over to him, being far enough away that they each had to stretch slightly to transfer the utensil.
Though she wasn’t sure why it should seem so, she thought it might be rude to abandon him while he enjoyed the cake. But remaining, while she hadn’t any reason, seemed awkward as well. She placed her palms on the counter, about to shove away and stand, when he spoke again.
“I don’t remember much about this house,” he said, between bites. “But then I don’t think we used it very often. At one time, my mother preferred the city.”
Dropping her hands, she thought of the message scratched into the nursery wall upstairs. He had indeed been here, but mayhap only a bored child, who had time to carve words into wood. What little she knew of his mother suggested theirs was not a warm and loving relationship.
Nicole had only ever lived in one house with her mother. Sadly, her memories were few and far between, seeming to fade more as the years went by. “I don’t remember my mother very well.”
“I might wish I suffered the same affliction,” he murmured, and then shook his head at such impolite words, though likely the sentiment remained. “You were very young when your mother passed,” he surmised.
“Seven or eight, maybe,” she answered, still grinning at his quip about his own mother, and the grin widened as a particular recollection came to mind. “When she died, grandmother came to us, of course. She was grief stricken, to have lost her daughter. We cried together for days. But I’ll never forget the most amazing thing that happened. If I’d not been there, mayhap I’d not believe it. But there we are, in the parlor, with mother laid out before us while so many persons came to pay their respects. Grandmother and I sat in nearby chairs, my father standing close to accept all the condolences and comforts.” She recalled as well that her father had balked at her presence, contending she was too young, but Nicole had pleaded with her grandmother to attend the laying out. As in almost all instances when her father came up against his mother-in-law, her grandmother had triumphed, which meant that Nicole had gotten her way. She giggled now, remembering so clearly the scene as it played out. “Lady Loudon, whom grandmother had never liked, arrived. She said pretty things to grandmother, but seemed off, too lively, as if it were not indeed a wake, but a ball she attended. Grandmother’s aloof manner sent her away soon enough, and truly, I think she understood she was not well received. So, she walked away from us, but somehow lost her slipper,” she told, and controlled her mirth just enough to finish the tale. “It was so remarkable, because she did not stop, but kept right on walking, leaving the shoe where it had fallen, right there in the middle of the room, the only thing separating us from mother’s body. Grandmother and I looked at each other, and God help us, we burst out laughing. And we couldn’t stop laughing. I suppose it was one of those instances when your emotions are so precarious, that you’re just so easily set off. Whatever the case, Lady Loudon was, ever after, known as The Barefoot Ninny, or The Shoeless Marchioness, between grandmother and me.” She stopped and her smiled lingered, even as she had no idea why she might have shared this bizarre story with him. Biting her lip, unsure how she felt now about revealing intimate stories with him, she stole a glance at him.
He was smiling, watching her with something more than simply interest in her tale, with some unidentifiable emotion, but which seemed deeper and greater than anything a man only in need of an heir should be displaying. His compelling eyes crinkled just perfectly at the corners with his grin, the blue so steady and entrancing while he watched her.
Nicole ducked her head, thinking again that she might say goodnight and be gone.
“But what became of the shoe?” he asked, which effectively forestalled her leave-taking.
With a shrug, she admitted, “I do not recall. Likely, a footman or such scooped it up from the carpet.”
“Do you know what the most remarkable thing about that is?”
Nicole shook her head, scooching back into the center of the stool, obviously not abandoning it just yet.
“That I once witnessed an uncannily similar happening. It was at a ball. I was on the sidelines, might have been my first year at such things. I was talking with my father, watching the dancers. And he and I both watched as George Goody did almost the very same thing. In the middle of the cotillion, lost his shoe, but kept right on stepping. First, Father and I imagined he did not disturb the progression of the dance and would fetch it after. But he never did, just left the thing to be tripped over and kicked around all evening.”
“Did he leave just after that set?”
“No!” Trevor said, raising his hands, as if flummoxed by the man’s choices. “He stayed all night, walking around like an idiot with only one shoe, making a show of walking on his toes, to keep his gait level with the other heeled shoe.”
Nicole giggled, “Do you supposed there might be more of those people? Dozens or hundreds or thousands who might have in their wardrobe only one shoe of a pair, having abandoned the other when they imagined it was sillier to bend down and scoop up the lost item, rather than walking away from it?”
He nodded and chuckled, the sound like heaven to her ears. “As if being the idiot who walks away on one shoe is so much less awkward!”
“I used to love people-watching at balls,” she admitted. “Just sitting and observing all the goings-on. You’d be amazed the things you learn about a person. I like to watch people’s faces as they interact, from a distance, and try to discern if they were pleased or not to be speaking to a certain person.”
“Eavesdropping with your eyes?”
“More or less,” she said. “Truly, often it was so much more interesting than what people were actually saying to me.”
“I’d never noticed that you were particularly unhappy at any social affairs,” he commented, putting the last bite of cake into his mouth.
She was quick to agree. “I was not.” She was now mostly thinking of all the ‘Trevor watching’ she’d done at the most recent events, more than a year gone now.
“Do you miss that? The social-ness? Being with friends?”
It was a delicate question, one she was surprised he asked, as it opened the door to the reason she was not now, a part of the ton or the happenings, of which the blame could entirely be put into his hands. But their mood was light now, reminding her so much of all the time they’d spent together, prior to the kiss, that had seen them in marvelously similar circumstances, at ease, and enjoying each other’s company. She missed that, to be sure, and so much more than any balls or
soirees, but she was disinclined to bring this to his attention.
“Surprisingly, I do not,” she said with a shrug. “Surprising, I say, because I did enjoy being social, and all the glamour and spectacle of it.”
“But now you’ll have your own ball here,” he reminded her.
“I think I might enjoy the Harvest Ball so much more, this being so much less formal and stilted and not governed by ridiculous social rules, or at least less so, I would imagine.”
A flickering light pulled both their gazes to a far corridor, where the light danced and moved along the wall as it neared, obviously lighting a person’s way.
It was Franklin who showed himself, sans a dressing gown, wearing only his nightshirt and cap, complete with drooping tassel, holding the candle aloft. Nicole wouldn’t have said his face showed surprise at finding the lord and his lady enjoying a nighttime snack, but she definitely thought she recognized the barest hint of a grin at his discovery. “I was thinking those must be fairly large mice, to be making so much noise.”
Trevor and Nicole exchanged grins, with Trevor quick to say, “Apologies, my good man. We’re probably naught but badly behaved children to you just now, eh?” At Franklin’s lifted brow, noted even as he was bent so drastically, Trevor promised, “We’ll try to keep the noise to a minimum from here on out.”
With a slow nod, Franklin turned and retraced his steps, finding his bed once more.
Nicole covered her mouth with her hand, smiling, and guiltily so, that they’d woken poor Franklin. Trevor met her gaze with his own sheepish grin, two conspirators having escaped harsh punishment from the man in charge.
Her smile faded, as reality crashed. Sadly, she realized this is what she’d expected, what she might have imagined their marriage would have been, had he not abandoned her on their wedding night. She’d not specifically dreamed of nighttime forays into the kitchens for nibbling, but she’d expected this ease, this type of fun.
Sad, indeed.
She stood from the stool. “I’ll say goodnight, then, before we’re scolded again,” she said, as if Franklin’s slight chastisement would chase her up to her room.
“I’m going up as well,” he said and stood, guiding her out of the kitchen with a hand at the small of her back. They took the same back stairway they’d both used to come down to the kitchen, this being narrower and darkened, lending a greater intimacy to their ascent than likely would the wider, larger grand staircase at the front of the house.
When they arrived at the door to her chambers, she noted that it was ajar. She had not left it so, which meant that likely he had first tried to find her there. She swallowed, knowing there was only one reason for him to seek her out. An excitement flowed through her at the same time an acute dread was known as well.
She turned to him, her intent a quick but firm goodnight, deciding the dread far outweighed any possible anticipation. She’d sadly realized after last night that each occasion of lovemaking—no, it wasn’t that, she had to remind herself; ‘twas no more than procreating—would likely rip a little piece of her heart away, until one day he left, and her heart was naught but tiny shards of broken sorrow scattered around the abbey.
But then he touched her, his finger grazing over her cheek before she could have uttered any words, and everything that wasn’t his touch fled from her mind. Nicole closed her eyes against even this small onslaught, only his fingers caressing her face, imagining her thrill just now if only he loved her.
The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, as they had been so often of late, but he bit them down. She was suspicious yet of him, bitter still and rightly so, that he was sure she would not happily receive any I love you from him.
But he would show her. He would worship her body to such a point she hadn’t any choice but to know it was true.
He slipped his hand around her neck and moved closer even as he drew her near, covering her mouth with his. While he’d thought, when he’d sought her out earlier, that the night would be ruined as she was likely hiding from him, he now knew he would relive that glorious time spent with her just now in the dark and quiet kitchen, eating Shrewsbury cake and seeing her smile. Her eyes were mesmerizing as she’d laughingly related that amusingly horrific tale of the forfeited shoe, and it had taken him back to the day he’d brought her to the picture gallery so very long ago, when she’d charmed him so easily, when he’d fallen in love with her.
And now he was kissing her again, and her small hands were holding him at the waist, and wasn’t this just everything he wanted right here in his arms? He propelled her backward, into the room, closing the door behind him.
His mouth shifted confidently over hers as his tongue dashed between her lips. She was sweeter than any cake and he murmured her name against her mouth, guiding her backwards still, further into the room. but he didn’t push her down onto the bed and fall ravenously atop her, but turned them both, so that it was his calves the bed frame pushed against.
Divesting her of her flimsy dressing gown and then himself of his own, he wasted no time losing his own shirt, thrilling at her touch, when her hands immediately found his chest. She might well be innocent yet, but her passion was a glorious thing to behold. He was both flattered and ignited by her want to touch him. Loosening the ties of his breeches, he let these fall and kicked them off, one hand holding her close, his arm slid around her slim waist.
He pulled his lips from her and sat on the side of the bed, tugging her hand to draw her to him. When she stood just at his knees, he scooped up the length of her night rail, his hands at the back of her silky smooth legs. When her fingers reached the back of her thighs, he pulled her onto his lap, straddling him. She did not resist so surely a vulnerable position but gasped as his erection met her vulva.
He nibbled her lips and whispered as he continued to bunch up her nightgown, “You’re not going to need this for the next little while,” and helped her lift the nuisance up and over her head. No sooner had it disappeared than he lowered his face to her breasts, breathing in the scent of her arousal, more intoxicating than any perfume, the taste of her nipple in his mouth as provoking as the raspy little moan that seemed to only fall out of her. Her hands loosely touched his arms, while his own were busy with both her breasts until she set her hands with more industry upon his shoulders, and began to writhe against him, sliding back and forth.
“Tell me what to do,” she begged huskily.
“You’re doing it, love,” he growled and crushed her to him, chest to chest as he took her mouth again, thrusting his tongue deep, holding her head against him.
And then, even as he thought it would prove too damn tormenting to withstand, he took her hand and guided it between them. “Touch me,” he commanded tersely.
She responded wonderfully, wrapping her teasing fingers around him. Trevor straightened, allowing just enough space between them that she glanced down at what she beheld. With his own fingers wrapped around hers, he showed her how to move her hand even as he supposed he might expire on the spot. He removed his hand and put his palms onto the bed behind him, letting his head fall back while she tormented and pleased him with her untutored but so damn clever fingers. Her hips started moving again when she realized she could pleasure them both by rubbing him against her.
He withstood it as long as he could before straightening and returning his hands to her hips. Chuckling hoarsely, he groaned, “I see what you’re doing there.”
Her own grin answered. “Is this wrong?”
He shook his head, his forehead against hers. “Jesus, no. But it will speed things along.”
“And then you’ll come inside me, and I’ll feel that...whatever it was, again?”
“That’s your orgasm and that’s the plan.”
“Does it not always work?” A hint of worry tinted her voice.
“No, love. It will always work with us. I promise.” Jesus, had he ever known talking during sex to be so wildly exciting?
He removed her h
and before he embarrassed himself and tugged her tightly against him, so that he was poised just between her folds. “Do you want me inside you, Nicki?”
She nodded, whimpering.
“Say it.”
“I do.” She continued to rub herself, finding the sweet spot. She tossed her head back and breathed raggedly, “I want you inside me now.”
He obliged, sheathing himself inside her, nearly crying out as she did at how tightly and hotly she welcomed him. She needed no tutoring now, but rode him perfectly, up and down, her knees finding leverage on the bed. Trevor could not take his eyes off her, the slim light of the moon through the window blessedly showing him her figure and face, her long curls bouncing against her shoulders as she rose and fell. He grabbed her bottom, imprinting his fingers, and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Nicki arched her back, thrusting her breasts at him, caressing her own nipples with each swipe against his chest. She bit her bottom lip when he could no more reach it. Trevor ground out an ungentlemanly curse for the voracity of his need, pumping into her as she began to make sounds that alerted him of her coming orgasm. Each little whimper provoked him further, stirred greater need and desire, until she covered his cheeks with her hands and kissed him fiercely, driving her tongue at him, moaning into his mouth and then going completely still while she cried out with her release. She actually sobbed, or it sounded as if she did, but he could not stop, even as her head lolled against his shoulder and her swollen lips touched his skin.
“Oh, but I’m dying, I think,” she murmured and Goddammit, if he didn’t almost weep himself. But she was so brilliantly wet and throbbing around him, still lifting and lowering her hips for him—and yet she was spent and breathless, so that Trevor stood up, carrying her with him while her arms looped lazily around his neck. He pivoted and pushed her onto her back on the bed, having almost come out, that when he thrust deep once more, she cried out again. And he continued to love her, pushing harder and faster, watching her beneath him. Her eyes were shiny in the near darkness, her breasts swaying exquisitely to the tempo of his thrusts, her hair a halo all around her head. Her hands reached for him, pulling his shoulders down, bringing his mouth to hers. She kissed him again, more, saw him home, until he came.
When She Loved Me (Regency Rogues: Redemption Book 1) Page 21
