by Jen YatesNZ
Closing her eyes again she breathed through the panic that had her gripping the bedcovers to her chin. Where was her night rail? Not on the bed, nor the floor. Pulling back the covers she found it scrunched up at the foot. How had it got there? Her mind drew graphic pictures, which only served to heat her body in anticipation of more of the same.
For years her senses and desires had gone into a swirl of heated longing in Dom’s presence and whenever thoughts of him had overtaken her in her lonely bed at night. But she’d not really understood what she was yearning for. Dom hadn’t left her in any doubt last night and thank goodness he was now her husband because such daydreams were going to be much more realistic and therefore kind of—desperate.
Even now, she wished he was with her, touching her as he had last night, as if—he really desired her—only her. Impatient with her pathetic thoughts, she pulled the night rail over her head, snatched up the heavy silk robe Maggie had laid over the ottoman at the foot of the bed, and rang the bell.
By the time Maggie arrived with footmen carrying a tub and water for her bath, she was seated at the dressing table brushing out her hair.
‘Morning,—Your Grace.’
Sheri fixed her maid with a comical glare, one eyebrow raised.
Maggie laughed comfortably, then huffed out air as if she’d been holding her breath.
‘All’s well then?’ she asked, her eyes gentle.
‘Thank you, Maggie. Yes.’
Sheri couldn’t keep the color from her cheeks and knew her maid would correctly interpret what she hadn’t been able put into words.
‘Good then. Here’s your hot chocolate while I ready your bath.’
Maggie was putting the last pins into the chignon at the back of her head when Dom erupted into the room with the briefest of knocks. Striding across the room he pressed his lips to her cheek. They were cool, as if he’d just come in from outdoors. Dressed for riding, his hair was rumpled as if he’d already worn the hat dangling from his fingers. There was a tang of the outdoors about him—and the familiar aroma of horse.
‘You’ve been riding! You might’ve woken me!’
His eyes met hers in the mirror, smoldering green and deeply hooded.
‘I thought you needed your sleep,’ he murmured, his voice a low hum across her nerve endings.
The light riposte she wanted to make became a scrambled puzzle in her head.
Annoyed at herself and her missish reaction, she bit down on her lips. At almost twenty-four years old she’d long since perfected the calm unruffled front. Dom had shattered that, along with even the most rudimentary of her reconstruction skills. While his eyes held hers and his voice strummed her senses, she could only stare back at him and melt, drop by drop, from the inside.
That voice had stalked her dreams, whispering I love you. Had it only been the dream, and her desperate, wishful thinking? The shimmering light and soft shadows in his eyes tempted her to hope, to believe, but she wasn’t naïve. A man didn’t fall out of love with someone as lovely, and lovable, as Jassie, overnight.
She really would do better to accept what she did have—for wasn’t that more amazing than she’d ever dreamed?
‘If you give me a moment to wash and change we can go down to breakfast together.’ Then he bent and whispered by her ear, ‘Now I’d better go before I’m tempted to undo all your maid’s hard work!’
Slipping one long hairpin from the sleek coil of her hair, he laid it in her hand and strode to the connecting door to his rooms, sending her a wicked grin as he passed out of sight.
‘Oh my!’ Maggie fanned herself as she came back to stand behind Sheri.
‘Just finish my hair.—Please,’ Sheri muttered.
Snapping her mouth shut and fixing a stony glare on her maid in the mirror, a glare she knew was seriously compromised by the wildfire in her usually creamy cheeks, she held up the pin Dom had just removed.
With a knowing grin, Maggie set about securing the heavy knot while softly humming and continuing to smile at Sheri in the mirror from time to time.
Chapter 14
‘Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Beresford!’ Bax boomed as soon as they entered the breakfast room and the smattering of guests present joined in the laughter.
Feeling horribly self-conscious because everyone in the room would also know what ‘Mr. and Mrs. Beresford’ had been up to in the privacy of their apartments last night, Sheri nevertheless found herself laughing up at Bax along with everyone else. No doubt, as he’d intended, and while his eyes danced wickedly and knowingly down at her, she sensed a—was it empathy?—something, some hint of softness in his eyes she’d never noted before.
‘Honored to call you ‘cousin’, my dear,’ he murmured, making her an elegant leg and pressing the merest hint of a kiss to her fingertips.
Dom smiled benevolently at her side and Sheri was aware of an easiness between the two, marked by its absence in recent weeks. Assisting her at the sideboard, he added an extra rasher of bacon and another egg to those she’d already put on her plate.
‘I can’t eat all that!’
‘I need to keep your stamina up. You’re having a strange effect on my—self-control. I could wish this lot to perdition.’ A slight nod of his head indicated the guests already at the table. ‘Perhaps we should escape to the North Tower.’
The plate almost forgotten in her hands, Sheri looked up into dark emerald eyes, lured by the rough velvet of his voice and the pressure of his shoulder against hers.
‘Why the North Tower?’
‘It’s where the fifth Duke entertained his paramour. There’s a secret entrance hidden in a bramble thicket below the north wall. He kept the main entrance locked, declaring it dangerously unsafe.’
‘Presumably he had a wife?’ she asked a little acidly.
‘Assuredly! She lived with all the luxury and circumstance of her status in the rest of the Castle.’
Sheri snorted, tilting her chin at him. She wasn’t quite to the point of telling him the only woman he’d ever take into the North Tower was her. But one day she would!
‘It’s still in use?’
‘My parents used to escape there apparently, so Broughton informed me when he handed me the keys and told me all about it. They kept it in its original state. Luxury in the Jacobean style. We’ll go exploring. Now I’ve thought of it I can’t wait to show you!’
She’d forgotten where they were, and why. There were just Dom’s alluring green eyes, his sensually curving lips that had done such wicked things to her last night—and the vision of a luxurious private boudoir in her mind.
They were within a breath of falling on one another right there at the sideboard when Lord Hadleigh interrupted the moment with a hearty morning greeting.
Sheri dropped her eyes to the plate to make sure she hadn’t spilled anything during her moment of total absorption in Dom. She’d have moved away to the other end of the table, but Dom held her arm, and when they’d both greeted Lord Hadleigh, he led her to two vacant chairs and seated her at his side.
‘I want you beside me today, where I can touch you—because as your husband, I may!’
His hand settled on her thigh under the table, branding her through the soft muslin of her gown.
‘Do you like me touching you?’ he asked in a husky whisper.
Fire burned in her cheeks. Desperate to turn the tables, she lifted a limpid gaze to his, and murmured, ‘I do.’
Sliding her hand up his thigh, she reveled in the twitch of muscle beneath her fingers and the deepening glint of desire in his eyes. He really did desire her.
The realization kept her immobile for a moment, then she snatched her hand back, focusing on her plate until her cheeks cooled.
When Bella suggested it was a fine day for a picnic and a ramble along the coast, Sheri entered enthusiastically into the plans and general discussion.
…
Replete from generous portions of squab pies, bacon and egg pie, ham, cheese and fresh bre
ad, followed by apple strudel and slabs of pound cake, the older ones dozed on their cushions. The children built sandcastles, ably abetted by Lords Brisco and Windermere and their wives. Some of the other younger gentlemen suggested a walk along the beach now the tide had receded and the sand was damp and hard, perfect for walking. They were joined by Bax’s niece, Miss Selena Carstairs, Lady Arabella Briersley, Lady Jane Rotherby and several other younger women of the party.
As they started eastwards along the beach, Sheri stood, intending to follow. Dom took her hand, tugging her in the opposite direction. Once hidden by an outcropping of rock, he pulled her into his arms. Before she could draw breath his mouth was on hers, his arms encircling her as if he’d never let her go.
When he raised his head and smiled down at her, his eyes danced with fire, another thing she’d never have known about him if they’d just remained social acquaintances. His eyes glowed with emerald fire when he was aroused.
‘One day, when it’s just us, I’m going to make love to you here on our own beach. Have you ever paddled?’ When Sheri shook her head, still too breathless to speak, he continued, ‘There’s nothing quite like the wash of the waves up your ankles, the shifting of the sand beneath your feet and the clarity of the air in your lungs as it comes off the ocean. Come on!’
He was already removing his boots and had begun on his stockings before he looked up to see her watching him. Would she ever weary of watching him divest his magnificent body of all the trappings hiding it from her? He waved impatiently towards her feet.
‘Shoes! Stockings! Off, now—or,’ he asked, cocking one brow at her, ‘are you waiting for me to do it for you?’
A little shocked, she glanced up and down the beach.
‘But—’
‘It’s our beach, Sher. Our rules! If I want to bathe here naked, I will—and have! Society be damned!’
Heat flowed into her cheeks and then Sheri laughed.
‘Just like Springwoods,’ she said. ‘Society has nothing to say to who I am there, how I dress, or what I do!—And I’m certain I need your assistance with removing said shoes and stockings!’
She loved the way his mouth widened and curved upwards in laughter and how the corners of his eyes crinkled; loved that she put that lightness into his face. Lifting one foot, she leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder.
‘T’is very trusting you are, Your Grace,’ he muttered, deftly removing her boot then reaching high to untie her stocking and roll it down. ‘I could have you on your back in the sand with the nudge of my shoulder.’
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she replied sweetly, ‘but I trust you’d not be so boorish—with company nearby!’
‘I shouldn’t be so confident, were I you, my love,’ he growled, reaching for her other boot. ‘You have a way of compromising my self-mastery!’
Once her second boot was off, his hand slid back under her habit, up her calf, above her knee, reaching way beyond the silken stocking top, to brush into her curls and press briefly into the damp core of her.
‘Dom!’ she whispered hoarsely, and would have fallen, had he not been gripping her firmly at the waist with his other hand.
‘Ah, Sher. You want me just as much as I want you.—But later,’ he added on a sigh as he returned to removing her stocking. ‘Too much too soon and it’ll become painful for you.’
Then he straightened, stowed her stockings in his pocket and slipped the wickedly adventurous finger into his mouth. At her shocked gasp, he leant forward and kissed her again, long and hard.
‘That will have to hold us until later.’
Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the water’s edge, her legs strangely lacking in cooperation. The water was as delicious as he’d promised and the coolness quickly restored her equilibrium.
By the time they turned back to the rocks and their boots, the hem of her habit was wet and heavy and coated with sand. Walking hand in hand, they were singularly at ease with one another.
‘Tell me more of the North Tower,’ she demanded. ‘Who was the Duke’s paramour?’
‘The paramour was a high born lady—who also had a husband. They owned Clovelly Chase. You passed it on the road between here and Whitstable. Lord Clovelly, apparently, never left London. Lady Bess spent much of her time supposedly at the Chase, but in reality, hidden away in the North Tower at Wolverton! Her two youngest daughters were said to have the Beresford stamp. If there were any portraits done that would prove it, no Beresford has ever been granted entrance at Clovelly to verify it. To this day the Lords of Clovelly consider all Beresfords to carry the mark of the devil—or so the story goes. The current incumbent is an aging recluse, never married, never been seen much in society—so our story is safe!’ he finished with a chuckle. ‘But I’m definitely thinking, if the others are far enough down the beach and the elders are all still somnolent, we could sneak back to the Castle and disappear for the rest of the afternoon! In fact, it’s the best idea I’ve had all day,’ he murmured, stopping to draw her into his arms.
The skirt of her habit dropped heavily to the sand and her hands rose to his shoulders as she lifted her face. Her lips were just as hungry for his. Large, strong hands cupped her cheeks, angling her head for his mouth. One hand slid around the back of her neck, cool against her heated skin.
Their bodies melded into natural alignment, his desire for her pressing, long and rigid against her belly.
‘Dammit! I want you! And you’d not deny me, I think! The North Tower—’
Distant male laughter carried down the beach and Sheri had a sudden vision of the dark, acutely intelligent gleam of Knightsborough’s black gaze and the wickedly tormenting twinkle Lord Bax often sent her way. Although, he had seemed to transfer his incessant teasing attention to Lady Jane over the three days he’d been at Wolverton—as if, mission completed he was moving on to his next nefarious adventure.
The thought was enough to remind her where they were and the time of day. Breathing with difficulty, she pulled away and grabbed up the hem of her habit once more.
‘I—think I prefer not to give—our guests any further entertainment at our expense,’ she said, determined to look anywhere but up into her husband’s teasing eyes. She quite desperately wished to be alone with him—anywhere—but not in bright daylight.
As they sat on the rocks brushing sand off their feet and replacing stockings and boots, Sheri accepted there was a part of her longing to stand naked before Dom; longing to proudly offer him all she was—and wasn’t—and be damned to the consequences. Playing the shy, modest virgin was not her style and while Dom had been amazingly patient with her so far, she didn’t imagine that patience would last much longer. And in her quietly intense way, she wanted to be in control of the moment she showed herself to him, not have it forced on her by circumstance.
With their footwear restored they walked back to where the others already clustered, preparing to return to the Castle.
Sheri wished they’d all just vanish. Soon—she’d instigate the visit to the North Tower. They’d be alone and she’d—gift him her darkest secret—then perhaps this fine tension pulling at her nerves, would dissipate. The man who’d loved her so thoroughly last night, who professed to be desperate to do so again, would surely not turn from her in disgust?
…
Maggie was just starting on her hair before dinner when Dom knocked and entered. When he saw the loose fall of tresses down her back and the brush in Maggie’s hand, the frown knitting his fine dark brows melted.
‘Perfect,’ he smiled, holding out his hand for the brush, which Maggie silently handed over without even glancing at Sheri in the mirror. She suspected her doughty maid was a little in awe, if not downright enamored, of His Grace, the Duke of Wolverton!
‘Leave us,’ he commanded, his hand already tangling in her hair, the maid forgotten. Maggie silently left the room and Sheri would swear she’d caught the corner of a smirky smile on her mouth.
‘I think I’ll make a habi
t of this, Sher. Your hair is amazing.’
He began sweeping the brush down the lush length of it and Sheri could hear the crackle of static and see the silvery gleam in shafts of late sunlight from the windows at her side.
Hooking another stool closer with his boot, he settled behind her and set a hypnotic rhythm of steady strokes, while his hooded gaze watched her in the mirror. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
Suddenly he tossed the brush aside, turned her on the stool and pulled her between his knees.
‘Undo my falls.’
Her eye dropped from his burning gaze to the part of his clothing he’d indicated. Oh—my.
‘Please, Sher. I—want—you—now!’
Slowly she unclasped her hands and began to fumble with his buttons. Never had she imagined herself doing this! Nor had she known the heat that would radiate through the cloth or the strain against the buttons. Suddenly she wanted those buttons undone as badly as he and when his member sprang free, long and hard and almost throbbing with eagerness, she reached for it. Curled her fingers around it, marveled at the power of it.
‘Put your mouth on me, Sher!’
‘W—what? How?’
The words shot out of her mouth in shock.
His eyes were closed as if he suffered intense pain and his chest swelled visibly.
‘Kiss him. Lick him.—Suck him!’
His hand settled at the back of her head and began pressing gently, inexorably. Her hair fell about her face in a silky curtain. There was just her and it—him—Dom’s penis. Tentatively she swiped with her tongue at the creamy bead of moisture at its tip. His moan of appreciation was accompanied by slightly more pressure from his hand and she opened her mouth around him—and sucking and licking came as naturally—as everything else he’d showed her.
‘Sweet—fucking—Dammit!’
Hands sweeping under her skirts, he lifted her off the stool and lowered her onto his lap, her freshly pressed gown crumpling unheeded between them. With her legs spread wide across his thighs, she was completely vulnerable to him and there was nothing in her mind but the desire for him to fill her, pound his body into hers. She should have been blushing at such thoughts but there was only the driving need, the power of his allure that simply strengthened every time they came together like this.
