Catastrophe With a Count

by Murdoch, Emily

  This felt like a much safer topic to Anthony, and so he decided to plough on with some recollections of his own, rather saucier adventures in the capital of the world.

  “If you have not been there in five years, you will not have heard of Alexander, Duke of Caershire’s scandalous marriage?”

  He saw her eyes brighten, and warmth washed over him to give her such pleasure.

  “Ah, you should have been there when she was first presented at court. Miss Teresa Metcalfe, as was, had spent some years as a courtesan to the rich and famous – ”

  “So you knew her, then?” Nerissa interrupted with a sardonic smile that Anthony felt looked a little more enquiring than usual.

  He swallowed, and thanked God that his one opportunity to get to know Miss Teresa a lot better had been accidentally thwarted by Samuel’s most recent escapade.

  “No,” he said firmly. “But when the newly created Duchess Teresa was presented at court, the Regent obviously was decorum itself, but the Royal Chamberlain snubbed her by refusing to take her hand after the presentation.”

  Nerissa’s eyes were wide now, and she had forgotten her cherry picking in the depths of the story. “And?”

  “And Teresa,” laughed Anthony, “looked him up and down and said, ‘My goodness, sir, you must barely recognise me. I certainly hardly recognise you with so many clothes on!’”

  Their laughter echoed in the trees around the clearing, and Anthony found himself finding more joy in her merriment than in his own. To make Nerissa Fairchild laugh, to make her happy every day – why did he long for her almost as much as he longed for her body?

  “And yet despite all of the glittering lights and entertainments that London can offer,” he said more seriously, “nothing has compared to the time that I have spent with you over the last two days.”

  Nerissa’s laughter slowed and disappeared, but she was still smiling and did not take her eyes from Anthony. Without looking down at her hands, she placed a cherry in her mouth and the deep red juice coated her lips.

  Anthony swallowed. He was in very real danger of dropping all the cherries that they had gathered to the ground, kissing Nerissa very hard on the mouth, and taking her right there in this forest if he was not too careful. He could see the same desire in her eyes, a desire that she did not quite understand, but it was growing, it was real.

  Realisation dawned across his mind, and his body stirred to attention. He could have her; he could make love to Nerissa and she would probably not resist. She was hardly his typical woman, and she was adventurous, and kind, and everything about her was enwrapt in the most arousing body he had ever seen.

  But no. He could not – he would not take the innocence of a woman without her consent. It had always been that way with him, and that was not going to change now. Even with the most tempting morsel before him.

  Anthony coughed, and then swallowed, as though that would remove all his desire for her. “I-I think we should go back to the clearing,” he managed in a strangled voice.

  They walked the few yards together in silence, and although he was desperate to know what Nerissa was thinking, he did not have the words to ask her without potentially revealing his own longing for her.

  They sat down, and Nerissa silently began to eat the cherries from her own hand. Anthony looked down and found that his own hands were full of them, and a few had burst, staining his hands.

  He ate, quelling the hunger pains in his stomach which had been a distraction for so long, but now he was left with the hunger of an organ a little further down his body, and that was much more difficult to ignore.

  But there was a thought which had occurred to him, and although he hated to speak it, he knew that he must, or regret that he did not comfort her.

  “You may no longer have your mother,” he said quietly, eyes carefully watching her, “but you do have your father.”

  Despite his concern that Nerissa would blanche at the contentious topic, she once again surprised him, doing something that he could never have expected.

  Nerissa raised her eyes to his own, and smiled weakly. “And yet I sense that my father was…was wrong to do what he did. To you. To your sister. To all those others.”

  It was all Anthony could do to prevent his jaw from dropping.

  “I will admit that I am not entirely sure what he did, or did not do,” she continued in an undertone. “He never spoke about his job with me, although I comprehend his duties and responsibilities. I just…I just have the feeling from your words, from your passionate desire for justice no matter the cost, that what my father did…was wrong.”

  Anthony felt a pang, a sharp stab of pain. It had never been his intention to turn Nerissa against her father, it had never even crossed his mind – but at the same time, he was not about to lie to her, to stop being true to himself and to the truth that he knew about Mr Fairchild.

  It seemed an impossible situation, and he opened his mouth with absolutely no idea what he could say, but thankfully Nerissa spoke before he could.

  “I have no choice but to support him,” she said, with a wry smile, her dark blue eyes fixed on his own. “For you see, I have no other protection.”

  Anthony’s heart started to race. Now here was an opportunity that he had never considered, never thought would occur to her. Here was the moment that he could be closer to her, to take her in his arms, to possess her. He had only offered his protection to one mistress before, and that had given him a year’s worth of heady pleasure.

  And now Nerissa – Nerissa Fairchild – was offering the same to him. By God, it was too good to be true, it was all his hopes for her rolled up and handed to him on a plate.

  He tried to get a hold of himself. This was a delicate conversation, not one that could be undertaken with half of his mind already undressing her.

  If he wanted Nerissa to be his mistress and offer his protection, he would have to be careful.

  “I…I could be your protector,” he suggested quietly.

  6

  Nerissa stared at him, unable to hide the surprise and shock that was coursing through her mind.

  She had been hoping, somewhere deep inside herself, somewhere that she had not had the bravery to properly look at, that Anthony would like her. It had struck her the moment that she had seen him, the moment that his gaze had encaptured hers so utterly in the court room.

  Every encounter with him seemed to change her opinion of him: at some times scandalising her and at others, making him more likeable. More loveable.

  But as she sat here in this clearing, the taste of cherries still in her mouth, looking into his grey eyes, she could finally admit to herself that she had fallen a little in love with Anthony, Count Stratham.

  He was foolhardy and rushed into this, but that only seemed to be a facet of his tempestuous and passionate nature. There was also kindness there, a fierce sort of loyalty that was revealed any moment that he spoke of his sister.

  And she could not deny the way that her body responded to him every moment that she was with him. Innocent she may be of body, but not so much of mind. She knew exactly what she would like to do with him, and a pink tinge appeared in her cheeks at very thought of it.

  “I…I could be your protector,” he had suggested in a low voice.

  She had thought that perhaps, if Anthony stayed in Port Royal, that over time he could come to care for her – but this was a proposal, and it came out of nowhere.

  Her breath seemed stuck in her lungs, and she could barely think of anything except his last words. He had offered himself as her protector, as her husband!

  Count Anthony of Stratham: charming and ridiculous, handsome and fiery, the only man that she had ever met who could make her feel this way.

  True, she had only known him two days: but in those days, how much had she known him! How much time she had spent with him, how intense the situations, how intimate the conversation! Why, couples in London wed all the time who had spent half of the amount of time that t
hey had had together, with half of the knowledge of each other.

  Could she be happy with him? Of course she could. She would smooth down his rough edges, and he would take her on adventures, would challenge her to take control of her own destiny.

  He wanted to marry her, and she would become his wife.

  “Are…” was all that Nerissa managed to actually speak aloud. She swallowed and tried again. “Are you in earnest?”

  Her breathless voice seemed to disappear on the breeze almost immediately, but he had certainly heard her. Her eyes tracked every movement of his face, carefully watching for any sign that Anthony was jesting, that it was only meant as a joke.

  But it did not seem as though Anthony was jesting. There was a serious look on his face, a fierce determination and a hunger that she had never seen before, and it thrilled her to behold it as he looked at her.

  He wanted her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  “Anthony…”

  It was his name that tipped him over the edge. Before Nerissa could say another word, Anthony threw the cherries to the side and crushed her to him, placing his lips on hers in a passionate and devoted kiss.

  She had never experienced anything like this, anything at all, but the surprising force of his kiss was nothing to the feelings that it awakened inside her. This, then, was what desire tasted like: dark, and rich, and leaving her hungry for more.

  Anthony’s hands were already entangled in her hair, keeping her face close to his own, his tongue gently teasing open her lips, and Nerissa moaned into his mouth as their tongues touched for the first time.

  She could taste cherries on his tongue, and a shiver of anticipation and delight rocked through her.

  “Nerissa,” Anthony managed to say as he dragged his lips from hers, his eyes blazing as he looked at her, “I have no wish to do anything that you are…that you are not ready for.”

  She did not need to think, she already knew that she had found the man that would make her happy for the rest of her life – and if the pleasant tingling sensations on her lips were anything to go by, he would please her in more ways than one.

  “I want this,” she said shakily, a smile dancing on her lips. “I-I want you, Anthony. Kiss me. Love me.”

  That was all the permission he needed. With a growl, Anthony pushed her backwards slightly and covered her body with his, bearing his weight on his elbows and dropping kisses onto her neck with fiery passion.

  Nerissa gasped and clung onto him as though she was going to lose her balance and fly off the face of her earth. Every place his lips touched seemed to burn her, to brand her as his own, and her back arched instinctively, pushing against the hard strength of his chest.

  His fingers were now scrabbling at his shirt, buttons undoing at speed, and Nerissa’s mouth fell open in delight at the expanse of hair that curled across his chest.

  “Oh, Anthony,” she breathed, and she lifted her lips to his own, desperate for another kiss.

  Now that his hands were free they grew busy at the front of her gown, unbuttoning it with such haste that Nerissa seemed only to blink and then it was open.

  Her instinct was to curl away from him, to hide herself. Her breasts had always been small, never buxom like her friends, but Anthony evidently did not think so. She saw his pupils dilate with longing, and he growled as he leaned forward and kissed the edge of her areola gently.

  A frisson of excitement shot through Nerissa’s body.

  “Oh – oh my!”

  Anthony growled and with much less gentleness but no less passion, his lips moved in swirling kisses around her nipple until he captured it in a heady kiss, his tongue flicking over it as his hands grasped her hips and held her tight to his own.

  It was then that Nerissa lost complete control. Arching her back and clinging to his broad chest, her legs struggled in her long skirts to enfold Anthony within her, so desperate was she to be closer to him, closer than she had ever thought possible.

  “I want – I want – ” She cried out with a jagged voice, unable to think clearly, unable to articulate exactly what she wanted, but Anthony understood.

  “I know,” he said in a deep voice, raising his head and smiling at her. “And you have to trust me.”

  Nerissa hesitated for a moment, but then she looked up in his grey eyes and saw more than lust there. There was something that hinted at a deep caring for her, something that she knew she could depend on.

  She nodded.

  In a swift movement that she could barely track, Anthony had risen and stripped off his breeches, leaving himself completely naked.

  Nerissa stared up at all, in parts appalled, in parts curious. He was…he was nothing like she had ever seen, ever imagined. She had known that men were built differently, but this –

  “Are you afraid?”

  Anthony’s voice was low, and kind, but searching. His grey eyes rested on her breasts, still uncovered, and then returned to her own face.

  Nerissa swallowed. “A little.”

  She had to be honest with him, this man who had promised her so much and had already given her so much pleasure.

  He nodded, with a faint smile. “You will not be for long.”

  And then he was back beside her, and he was kissing her neck and as her back arched into the decadence his strong fingers were pulling her gown from her shoulders, pulling it down to her waist, and then further.

  He grunted in appreciation at her body, her skin warm in the Jamaican air. She was not wearing any underclothes; no one who wanted to stay cool in Port Royal did.

  Nerissa shivered slightly – but not because of cold, but anticipation. Anthony halted his kissing trail at her lips and then gazed into her eyes as he pulled her gown lower, below her hips and to her knees.

  She was naked now, completely open to him, and though she felt a little shame, he had asked her to trust him, and so she did.

  Approval blazed in his features, and Anthony nodded. “You are – you are so beautiful, Nerissa. I am not sure whether anyone has ever told you that. But I…I am going to show you.”

  His lips forced hers open but she welcomed him willingly, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him down towards her, and she moaned in her mouth at the wild sensation of his strong body against hers, the hair on his chest scraping against her breasts, the feeling of the wild hardness between his legs pressing up against her.

  And his hands were not idle. They moved, caressing, teasing all the way, down to her breasts, then to her waist, and then –

  “Anthony!”

  She cried out his name – she could not help it – when his fingers gently touched that secret place between her legs, the place that was growing wet and warm with seductive kiss.

  Nerissa gazed up into his eyes and saw triumph in them, glorifying in the pleasure that he was giving her, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying aloud.

  Anthony moaned and twitched slightly at the sight of this. “God, no Nerissa – do not hold back, give me everything, shout out when I please you, I-I need to know.”

  She swallowed. It did not seem possible, this man who caused such carnality and entreaty to her to need something in return, to want something from her, but he was staring at her with such desperation.

  “I-I like that,” she whispered, and Anthony dipped his head by her neck and moaned in her ear.

  “Yes, yes,” he cried out. “Tell me!”

  Nerissa did not need further encouragement, as his right hand pressed a little harder against her softness and slightly moved into her wetness, and she jerked with the spark of pleasure that it gave her.

  “Oh, that feels so good,” she moaned, and Anthony raised his head to look into her eyes, his own lip bitten now to prevent himself from crying out over her own words.

  He knew what he was doing, Nerissa thought wildly as the fingers that had at first been tentative now started a rhythm, a rhythm that was driving her wild with anticipation and expectation. It was wonderful, but she
wanted more.

  She looked up at him and saw for an incredible moment that she was in charge here; she had just as much control over him as he did her.

  Time to quicken the pace, she thought.

  “Oh, yes,” she said more strongly now and felt the rhythm inside her slowly increase. “God, Anthony, that is so good – I want more of you, more!”

  “Christ, Nerissa, yes, tell me,” Anthony breathed, and his two index fingers slipped inside her.

  Nerissa arched her back, willing him to go deeper, and then realised that she had the very means to make him do so. “Deeper, Anthony, deeper – I want the feel of you deeper inside me.”

  “Oh, you are killing me!” He shouted, and he obeyed, sinking his fingers deeper into her and curling slightly to cause Nerissa to cry out in wonder.

  “Faster,” she commanded, and she exalted in the power she had, and her whole body was on fire for him, on fire because of the pleasure that he was giving her. “Faster!”

  “I will do anything, anything you ask of me!” Anthony cried out, and his fingers were moving quicker than ever before, and Nerissa almost sobbed with the wonder of it – and then a wonderful idea hit her mind.

  “Stop,” she commanded.

  Anthony had closed his eyes, lost in the feeling of her around his fingers and her voice echoing in his mind, but he stopped immediately, eyes snapping open to look down on her. “What?”

  Nerissa licked her lips, and shuddered slightly at the feeling of the now motionless fingers still inside her. “I want something different.”

  He did groan aloud this time, and asked shakily. “What, Nerissa? Ask, ask, I will do anything, anything for you.”

  She almost said nothing, she almost asked him to continue, for what could be more pleasurable than this? But a wild fantasy, something that she could not have imagined before but now had struck her, could not be ignored, and if she was brave enough to ask…

  “I…” Nerissa swallowed, but did not break their gaze. “I want you to continue doing that but…but with your mouth. With your lips, with your tongue, Anthony. It is…it is what I want.”