Always the Bridesmaid

by E K Murdoch, Emily

  She held his face steady between her hands as they drew breath, and she whispered, “No others from now on.”

  Richard could barely think. “No.” He lowered his lips to hers.

  Tabitha’s hands clutched his back as his tongue teased more pleasure from her. His hands moved to the ribbon at the front of her gown. He pulled at it slowly at first, but as Tabitha moaned in his mouth, he tugged it roughly and pushed down the thin gauze sleeves, her elegant gown fell to her waist.

  She could not contain her desire.

  Richard knew he was lost—but he had been lost when she had taken his hands, or was it when they had kissed by that pillar the first time, or maybe when they had first danced? He did not know or care.

  He exacted one final kiss before lowering his lips to her décolletage. His nimble fingers made quick work of the corset until it and the gown fell to the floor.

  “Tabitha, you are so…”

  But Richard could not finish the sentence, and instead, showed her with actions. He captured a breast with his hand and kissed her nipple.

  Her nails scrabbled at his back. “Richard–oh yes!”

  His tongue teased and flicked, his other hand caressed the other breast, his body thrust tightly against hers.

  He lifted his head and stared into her face with a wicked smile. “Now, does Richard mean I am being good—or do I want you to call me, Axwick?”

  “Pleasure me,” she moaned, her hands pulling him closer. “Love me, Richard, love me Axwick…”

  Her words were stopped by his possessive mouth, and she arched against him and raised one leg to draw him closer. With a great effort, Richard broke the kiss and stared into her eyes.

  This was it. This was when he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would say yes to his offer of seductive delight.

  “Tabitha,” he said in a ragged voice, trying to ignore the temptation to enter her right against the bookcase, “will you make me very happy?”

  Chapter Ten

  There was a loud pounding noise ringing in her ears, and Tabitha’s mouth was open.

  Will you make me very happy?

  Richard was waiting for her answer. This was what she had always longed for but never believed would actually happen.

  A proposal. A proposal of marriage from a man who genuinely cared about her, who evidently loved her. He wanted her, was so afraid of losing her that he had declared his love.

  “Well?” Hix eyes fixated on her as his hands continued to caress her.

  Tabitha smiled at the man who had once sworn to never marry. In his brown eyes she could see hope and lust and something else. Something very much like love.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  Richard pulled her closer for a deep kiss, both passionate and reverential. They had made this pledge to each other and nothing could break that bond. They would grow old together. They would make a life together and—

  But it was impossible to concentrate on her future happiness when her current pleasure was at such a pitch. Richard broke the kiss with a devilishly handsome smile.

  “Come with me,” he murmured, pulling her across the room.

  As Tabitha picked up her dress and followed him, clutching her gown to her breasts, it did not even occur to her to insist they return to the ball. Why should she? Where else would she want to be in the world than in his arms, when she throbbed with desire for him?

  Richard pulled a book from the shelf, and Tabitha gasped as a hidden door sprung open, revealing a narrow staircase.

  “No one but servants use this,” Richard spoke hurriedly as they climbed the stairs, “and they will all be at the ball.”

  A narrow corridor opened at the top of the stairs, dark, with doors leading off both sides of it. Richard threw open the first door and pulled her into a small room that appeared barely lived in.

  And then he stopped. Tall as he was, Tabitha tilted her head back to look into his face, a shadowed medley of desire and hesitation.

  Tabitha swallowed. There was little furniture in the room, but there was a bed. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it, too, but were they so bold? It would not do to despoil a young lady; it was not respectable.

  Her heart swelled with love. He was to be her husband. What was the purpose of holding back their love for each other, for want of a few weeks, a visit to a church, and a ring?

  She allowed her gown to fall, exposing her breasts to him. A smile danced across her face as she reached out with a trembling hand to his chest.

  Richard needed no further invitation. He let out a growl as he pulled her toward him, those strong fingers returning to her waist and his mouth pressing down upon hers. Tabitha gave herself willingly, for what could be more incredible than this, this feeling of oneness, of being close to the man you loved?

  Richard took a step back from her, naked but for her undershift.

  “Take it off.”

  His words were level, but the shudder of his body told her he was barely in control—and it made her smile. He may be more experienced than she was, but in this room, she was the one in charge.

  “And what will you do to me,” she whispered, “if I do not?”

  How could she speak wantonly, with no thought to consequences? Something thrilled inside her to see the frustration spark in Richard’s body.

  He stepped toward her, but Tabitha was ready, taking a step back. “No. I get to decide.”

  Richard laughed as he shook his head. “God knows I wanted a woman who knew her mind, but I did not think it would be to torture me!”

  The thrill of power and desire shot through her. She would do anything for this man, anything, but there was something even more delightful about forcing him to do something for her.

  “Now,” she said quietly, hardly knowing how she could be so brazen, “take off your shirt, Richard.”

  Desire pooled in his eyes. Without taking his gaze from her, Richard slowly unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground.

  Tabitha nodded in approval. She had felt the strength of him when he had pushed her against that pillar, when he pressed himself against her in the library, but she could never have predicted such a chiseled body existed under that shirt. A smattering of dark hair crept across his broad chest and down toward a part of him she was longing to know better.

  “I beg you,” he said in a low voice, “please, Tabitha, I want to…why do you keep away from me?”

  The desperation in his voice was genuine. She could step away and still retain her innocence…but why would she want to?

  Her breath fluttering in her chest, hoping this was the right thing to do, Tabitha turned her back to the man she loved. She did not need to see Richard to sense the effect she was having on him. His groan echoed in the small room, and within a second of lightly dropping her undershift to the floor, leaving her completely nude, he had clasped her naked body to him.

  Tabitha gasped at the feeling of his hands on her hips.

  “You are more intensely beautiful than the sun,” Richard whispered in her ear as his questing fingers fluttered to her waist, as though unsure whether he was now permitted to touch. “I could look at you all day, Tabitha, all day and never tire of you, because you are complete perfection.”

  Something was rising in her that she did not understand and could not describe, and she wanted more.

  “Tabitha.” Richard’s voice lowered as his fingers started to caress, sparking intense arousal that made her weak-kneed. “I am going to kiss every single inch of you. But first, I am going to tease you.”

  Without any warning, his left hand moved to her breast, and his fingers grazed across her nipple as his other hand moved swiftly to cover that secret place between her legs.

  “Oh!” Tabitha arched her back at the sudden pleasure.

  “Just relax. Trust me.”

  Two fingers gently entered that wet place where suddenly her entire body seemed to exist. It was pleasure she had never experienced as his fingers moved slowly wi
thin her, and though he had promised her such things, Tabitha could never have imagined such wonder.

  His other hand was not idle. It became stronger, teasing her nipple as his hand embraced her breast, his lips kissing her neck as waves of arousal moved from breast to that deepest part of her and back again.

  “Richard,” she moaned, and her voice spurred him on. Something was building inside her, and before she knew it, her body was exploding as her first climax overwhelmed her.

  It was not until she opened her eyes that she realized they had been closed. Richard’s strong hands were holding her up, and she had evidently lost all control as the ecstasy of the pleasure had taken her.

  “That was…” she breathed, unable to think clearly, trying to calm her breathing. “That was…”

  “Yes,” murmured Richard in her ear. “Can you stand?”

  Tabitha felt the strength in her legs returning. After she gave a brief nod, he released her, and she turned—and gasped.

  He had removed his breeches and stood naked in the moonlight shining through the small window. She had never seen a man like this before. Of course, she had studied the great artists and thought herself prepared for such a sight, if she was to ever have the opportunity.

  But Richard? There was something truly astounding about him, something so masculine. It was all she could do in her pleasure-sodden state to continue standing.

  She did not even try to speak. Instead, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

  The warmth of his body made her moan in his mouth. The feeling of his erection pressed against her was everything that made a man, and she could not help but lower a hand to touch it.

  “No!” Richard moved away from her, and embarrassment shot through her. It must have been obvious, for he immediately continued, “I…I want this to be wonderful for you, Tabitha.”

  “It already is,” she breathed.

  “But better than this. It…it may hurt a little.”

  She had been warned about it by women who had whispered things at parties, but she had not understood it then. He seemed…well, too large for…

  “I trust you.”

  Before she could say another word, he had thrust her onto the bed and joined her, his chest pressed against her breasts, his hips against hers. Tabitha could barely think but did not need to. Everything was passion and ecstasy, and she needed nothing else.

  That hot feeling was building in her again. “Oh, Richard!”

  He shuddered against her and dropped his mouth to her breasts, tasting her, teasing her with his tongue, and she arched against him, clinging to him.

  “Christ, you are so warm and soft,” Richard said as he nestled himself between her thighs.

  Tabitha had known the mechanics but could never have imagined such feelings. She did not have the words to ask for what she wanted, but she had to have it or she would die.

  “I want more,” she panted. “I want you!”

  He raised his head, delight and desire sparking between them like lightning.

  “Are you sure?”

  Tabitha smiled in what she hoped was a seductive way. “Never more so.”

  Richard grinned. “Bloody hell, Tabitha, I had no chance with you, did I?”

  He was hers and she was his, and they would make each other happy for the rest of their lives. “Never.”

  With a curse breathed into her ear as he gave in to his desire, Richard plunged himself into her. Tabitha gasped at the sudden intrusion and felt the twinges of pain she had expected—but she opened to accommodate him as he moved.

  “Are you—are you—”

  “Oh, yes!” She shifted her hips slightly to take him in deeper. “Richard, yes!”

  He needed no other words. Dropping his lips to hers, he rocked his hips slightly, and she pressed into him, desperate for the feeling of him deeper, harder, and faster.

  He understood. Leaving her mouth and cursing once more under his breath, she felt him shift his position, and all she could think of was the rhythm of his movement piercing her with pleasure and rocking her toward another wave of pleasure.

  Her fingers clutched his back, her nails scraping his skin as she lost complete control. She shattered, and her cries pushed him over the edge. He exploded into her, and she collapsed onto the desire-soaked linens and held him as he fell into her arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Richard reclined on the pillows and blew out a slow breath. He heard the pounding of his heart like a storm battering a port. He had only one other sensation: the warmth of Tabitha nestled against his side. He smiled in the dimness of the room, consumed with happiness.

  Had he ever felt this good before? Had he ever felt this close and connected to a woman?

  There was something hot in his stomach, and it did not burn like desire, but warmed him like an open fire after a long winter day’s hunt.

  Tabitha shifted against him. No, it had never been like this before. This was new.

  A twinge of fear soured his stomach. He had not used any protection—after swearing he would never find a wife, he had risked the chance of a child. But the odds were slim, surely. God would not be so cruel.

  “Share your thoughts?”

  Richard started and joined in her laughter. The last thing he wanted was to share the idea currently racing through his mind, untamed and unexplained.

  It still shocked him that Tabitha had accepted his offer, happy to give up her hopes of marriage, her thoughts of wedlock and all it entailed, for the chance to let him love her. And love her he had, and fiercely. How many more opportunities would she have, as his mistress, to experience his lovemaking?

  “I was thinking,” he said softly, “that we must agree not to tell anyone about this. It must be a secret, you understand, a secret between us. You and me.”

  He glanced at the chestnut hair drifting across his arm and shoulder. Tabitha had a smile dancing on her lips. She was utterly at peace—as though she had found what she had been looking for, and knew she would never be parted from it.

  “Of course,” came the sleepy reply. “I am more than happy to keep it a secret, just between us.”

  It was not the response he had been expecting—or rather, it had been the one he had hoped for, but had not expected her to agree to so readily. To agree to be his mistress, to keep their dalliance secret and, his body shifting uncomfortably at the very thought, agreeing to the possibility of more in the future…

  “Richard,” Tabitha murmured sleepily, “what changed your mind?”

  Richard shifted his arm, clasping that delicate waist and bringing her closer to him. He groaned slightly at the feeling of her breasts grazing his chest and tried to clear his head. This was important, this conversation. It would not do to grow hard again and find himself unable to even think, let alone speak.

  “Knowing you has changed my mind about a great number of things,” he said slowly. Although difficult to speak of such things, with her it was possible. “You were told you would become the same, had the same weaknesses as your father—but you have not. You said things of that nature can be overcome.”

  “I believe it,” Tabitha said quietly. “Every word of it.”

  The one candle in the room guttered, leaving them in complete darkness.

  “You will not hear me admit this very often, but I was wrong,” Richard smiled into the gloom. “Although it sounds strange, hearing that a man’s faults did not necessarily lead to the destruction of his child…to know the cycle can be broken, that it is not damnation to the next generation…well, ’tis given me hope. You have proved me wrong, and I have never been more grateful.”

  Tabitha chuckled and moved her arm to enclasp him. “And I have never taken more joy in proving you wrong.”

  Their bodies nestled together comfortably. “It made me wonder for the first time, whether… Whether marriage and a family may one day be a future I can hope for.”

  Richard held his breath after this statement. He did not want to mislead T
abitha, did not want her to misunderstand. It was a hope, and a hope for the future, and if he could consider himself marrying anyone, it was her. But this was not a proposal, and she had known that from the moment she had accepted his offer in the library.

  But one day perhaps. A sudden vision of Tabitha by his side, dressed in all the finery a duchess deserved, sparked into his mind and caused a rush of joy—a rush further increased by the laughing child darting out from behind its mother’s skirts. Tabitha’s skirts. His child.

  Richard glanced at the woman at his side who was deeply lost in thought.

  “When I entered my twenties,” he started in a low voice, “It sounds strange to say it, but I had high hopes of being a father. It was expected, even as the second son. We had but one spare, and my brother had not wed.” The memory of the day that hope had all come crashing down jolted him painfully, and he had to cough before he was able to continue. “That all changed on the day I gained my majority. On that day I had expected a little more responsibility, a slight increase in my allowance—all the selfish things young men want.”

  He paused for so long he felt a nudge in his side.

  “And?”

  “And it was on that day I received neither power, nor wealth, but something much more important. Knowledge.”

  “Knowledge about your father?”

  Richard sighed. “Yes and no. Knowledge about everything, about his gambling habits, his drinking, the way he treated my mother, and how it was not even unique. It was merely a repeat of his father, and his father before him. Something tainted the blood of our line, and all were wastrels.”

  Tiredness tugged at his eyes, but he would not close them. He would not allow the image of his mother that day to enter his mind. The trail of tears on her cheeks, the way her fingers tensed in her lap, the fear he, too, would take a fist to her for saying such things, such truths.

  “That was not the worst,” he said quietly. “I heard my elder brother had already taken such a path. It was in my father, in my brother, and so of course, it was in me.”