by Cheryl Holt
“I proposed, and you don’t believe I’m serious? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“When I visited Stanton Manor, I thought that grand old house simply needed some love and care. I could practically see myself residing there with you and making it our project to repair it.”
“I’ve been envisioning the same.”
“What if you begin to regret that you tossed all that money aside? What if you begin to regret you didn’t wed an heiress?”
“Do you deem me to be that capricious, Catherine? Really?”
She gazed into his eyes until she was drowning in them. Bit by bit, he was wearing her down, reeling her in so she was eager to accept. Did she dare?
“You don’t know a thing about me,” she said.
“You don’t know much about me either.”
“I know plenty, and it’s not very good.”
“I’m better than I pretend to be.”
“I should hope so,” she chided. “I’d hate to think you’re actually worse. And as to me, aren’t you worried about the sort of person I might turn out to be deep down?”
“Why? Are you a shrew who’s been hiding your tendencies where I won’t notice them?”
“No. With me, the woman you see is the woman you’ll get.”
“I’m positive you started out in a spot that was very high, and I asked you previously about your father and if he’d suffered a scandal that pitched you down society’s ladder.”
“It wasn’t a scandal. I lost my parents in an accident, then distant relatives inherited. It’s painful to talk about it.”
“I figured it must be, but—once we’re more intimately acquainted—I wish you’d trust me with the story.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out her identity, but she didn’t, and she couldn’t deduce why. She supposed it was partly because she’d concealed her name for so long that the idea of candor was unsettling. But also, she remembered that odd afternoon at Stanton Manor where he’d mentioned his friend who’d allegedly fought a duel with her brother, Hayden.
She couldn’t guess if the tale was true, but what would Christopher’s attitude be if she admitted to being Hayden’s sister? His opinion of Hayden had been quite bad. Would he suddenly wonder if she had the same low character? Would his interest immediately wane? She was terrified to find out, and as she’d discovered during her conversation with Gertrude, she was a coward.
There would be no confession. Maybe in the future, but not at the moment.
“I’ll tell you someday, but not tonight. Just be aware that my parents were marvelous, and I had an amazing childhood.”
“I can sense that you did. You are so elegant and refined. How was I lucky enough to cross paths with you? Fate has never been that kind to me.”
“Perhaps your luck is changing. Perhaps Fate has decided to shine a brighter light on you.”
“I’m ready for only good things to happen.” He was still holding her hands, and he squeezed them tight. “And speaking of good things happening, you haven’t given me your answer.”
She grinned an impish grin. “What was the question again? We’ve been chatting for so long that I’ve forgotten.”
He snorted with amusement, and to her great surprise he slid off the bed and onto one knee.
“My dearest, Catherine,” he said, “I have admired you for many days now.”
“Days! That doesn’t sound like much of a history.”
“It has been to me. I feel as if I’ve lived my whole life just since I met you.”
“Oh, Christopher, what a precious remark.”
“I’ve been stupid and cruel, acting as if I could toss you away.”
“Stupid, yes,” she agreed, “but not cruel. Never cruel.”
“I insulted you by suggesting an indecent liaison.”
“I forgive you.”
“I was prepared to forsake you simply to glom onto a bit of money.”
“A lot of money.”
“Yes, a lot of money, but I’ll be richer with you by my side than I ever would have been with all those pounds in my bank account. Will you marry me?”
“I’ll ask a final time. Are you sure?”
“I’m so sure I could be dancing in the clouds.”
“Swear to me you’ll never regret this.”
“Regret having you as my wife? You’re insane if you imagine I could be.”
“I’m scared about this. I’m afraid you don’t mean it.”
“Are we back to that again?”
“My dreams never come true. If you dangle this one before me, and it’s eventually dashed I might not survive it.”
“I have the perfect solution to calm your fears,” he said.
“What is it?”
“We’ll behave precisely as we shouldn’t, then I’ll have to wed you. You’ll be shackled to me forever.” He chuckled. “You poor girl.”
She scowled, puzzled by his comment. She was a maiden, and while she’d probably heard more about the physical aspects of amour than any unwed female should, she hadn’t learned all that much. It appeared that he planned to engage in marital conduct, and the prospect sent a burst of excitement and panic shooting through her.
She glanced at the bed, her trepidation soaring. Could she? Should she? Oh, she wished she could speak with her sisters!
She waved a hand, indicating he needed to slow down. “I’m bewildered. What is it you’re expecting to occur?”
“We’ll proceed as if it’s our wedding night.”
“What would I have to do?”
“I’ll show you.”
He was still on his knees, and he smiled at her, looking so spectacularly handsome that her breath hitched in her chest.
“Say yes, Catherine,” he urged. “You know you want to.”
“I don’t know that at all,” she vehemently replied.
“Then, you silly minx, I guess it’s up to me to convince you.”
* * * *
Christopher stood and rolled onto the bed. He pulled her with him so in a quick instant they were stretched out on the mattress. She didn’t exactly protest the brash move, but she wasn’t enthused about it either.
“You’re mad,” she scolded.
“Mad with desire for you.”
“You’re not in love with me though,” she pointed out.
“We’re barely acquainted. How could I be?”
“Your remark doesn’t make me feel more confident about this. We’re practically strangers, but you’re ready to wed me.”
“So what? Priscilla is my cousin, and I was ready to wed her too. In light of my recent tortured road to matrimony, I don’t regard familiarity to be much of a benefit.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’m a good judge of character, Catherine. You have excellent character. I have no qualms or concerns.”
“You should,” she persisted.
“I don’t.” He frowned. “Are you trying to dissuade me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, stop it, would you? You can’t talk me out of this.”
“What about me and what I want? I always thought—should I ever have the chance to marry—I would be in love with my husband. I didn’t think I would bind myself for any other reason.”
“Don’t you suppose it could happen between us someday? We’re so compatible, and we like each other so much.”
“Yes, I suppose that might be possible,” she grudgingly allowed.
“Quit being such a pessimist.”
“Someone should be. It certainly won’t be you.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips. “It will be fine, Catherine. Don’t fret over it.”
“I can’t help it.”
“It’s our wedding night, remember? This is a time for joy and celebration.”
She was about to launch into a lengthy tirade as to why he was deranged, and he simply couldn’t listen. He was actually
quite alarmed by what he’d decided to do.
He’d been marching toward his marriage to Priscilla for so long that he couldn’t wrap his mind around another path. He was terrified—if he dawdled and pondered—he would never take the necessary steps. Circumstances would intervene or Mr. Bolton would yank him to his senses with a perfectly rational argument about how ridiculous he was being.
Christopher had never been rash or irresponsible, but suddenly he was acting like the most negligent wastrel ever. He was desperate to let this alternate side of his personality carry him to the spot where he was anxious to be.
Fornication with Catherine would guarantee the conclusion he sought. He wouldn’t be able to back out, and she wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t view himself as much of a catch for a woman. If she had a moment to reflect on a union with him, it was very likely she’d realize that fact.
What female would deliberately fetter herself to a man in his penurious condition? If he’d had a sister who was pursuing such a match, he’d have told her to extricate herself and to run fast in the other direction.
He drew her to him and began kissing her, and she leapt into the fray with a reckless abandon. So far in their romantic escapades, he hadn’t pushed her down the carnal road. For once, he would goad her to the very limit so she supplied what he was determined to have.
She was wearing her robe with nothing on beneath it, and gradually he was loosening the belt so the lapels flopped open and her center was exposed. He slipped a hand under the fabric to fondle her breast, being delighted when she didn’t prevent him. She simply moaned and pulled him nearer which only spurred him on.
He slid over her, his larger torso covering hers, and he nuzzled a trail down her neck, her chest, to her bosom. Without giving her a chance to brood over his intent, he laved a nipple with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth.
She jerked away, appearing so stunned he would have laughed if he hadn’t understood that he was proceeding too quickly. He had to slow down, had to coax and cajole her so she was glad for what they were perpetrating.
“What you just did,” she sputtered. “Is that a sin?”
He laughed then. “No.”
“It felt so good. It ought to be.”
He sighed with contentment, being charmed by her—as he constantly was. He snuggled her under him.
“We will engage in many physical deeds when we’re alone like this,” he told her. “All of them are permitted, and you should never be nervous or ashamed about any of it. Our goal is pleasure, and it will become very intimate. I’m predicting you’ll always like it. I’ll try my best to be sure you do.”
“But…what is it you’re planning. Can you explain it?”
“It easier if I show you, and even if I described it you’d probably presume I was jesting.”
“Try me.”
“We’re built differently in our private parts.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“It’s so we can join our bodies together.”
“Join them how?” She was hesitant, clearly not convinced that they were walking the proper path.
“At first, it might seem a tad awkward.”
“It already seems awkward.”
“The more we practice, the less odd it will be.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m considering this. I can’t believe I’m in this bed with you. I’m either totally besotted or you’ve driven me mad.”
“Yes, I’m hoping that’s it. I want you mad with desire—as am I.”
“I’m mad with something,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s desire.”
“It will be.”
She smiled. “You’re so certain about this.”
“I am.”
“Make me certain too. Make me as excited as you are.”
It was the greatest consent she could have granted. He dipped down and started in on her nipple again, laving and nibbling it. Then he shifted to the other one and gave it the same fierce attention. He went back and forth, back and forth, as his crafty hand roamed in circles down her tummy.
Finally, he reached her womanly hair, and he slid a finger into her sheath. He’d scarcely touched her, and she was pitched into a fabulous orgasm that had her arching up and crying out.
He laughed with joy, then kissed her, swallowing down the sound as she soared to the heavens and tumbled down. She was laughing too, muttering with amazement, and he was more ecstatic than he could ever remember being.
“What was that?” she asked when she could speak again.
“The French call it the little death.”
“An accurate term. I feel as if I died a thousand times over.”
“What a gem you are.”
“Are we finished? For if we are, I must tell you that I’m thrilled to have agreed to this.”
He chuckled, then sobered. “There’s a bit more. Let me show you how it ends.”
“We’re halfway there so I might as well.”
“It will be wonderful, Catherine. Trust me.”
“I don’t precisely trust you, but we’ll see where I land once we’re done.”
“It will be in a very good spot.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He sat up and yanked off his shirt, then he laid down and stretched out. Her robe had been pushed down so her upper torso was mostly bare, and as they connected skin to skin, the sensation was so riveting they both gasped with surprise.
“This keeps getting better and better,” she said.
“It’s why people can’t resist misbehaving.”
“Now I understand why the preachers rail against it. It’s too delicious for words.”
“You’re correct. It’s sinfully fun.”
He gazed at her as if he was viewing her down a long tunnel. The decades rolled by and he was always happy with his decision.
There was a peculiar perception of bewitchment about it, as if she’d cast a spell on him or as if Fate was giving him its blessing. He shook off the unusual impression and began kissing her once more. He was at the limit of his restraint and couldn’t delay another second.
He drove her up the spiral of pleasure again, and she eagerly participated, caressing his chest and arms as if she was learning his size and shape. Each stroke of her palms across his skin sent a jolt to his phallus.
Down below, he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to his flanks. He widened her thighs, his body dropping between them, and as he grabbed his cock and centered it directly where it needed to be she exhibited her initial hint of nerves.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m joining my body to yours.”
“I told you I don’t know what that means or how it happens.”
“It will be over quickly.”
“It feels strange though. Are you certain this is the right way?”
“Yes.” He chuckled again, his infatuation growing by leaps and bounds. “Lie back and try to relax.”
“I’ll try, but I’m very overwhelmed.”
“Every young lady is at this point. It’s not like anything you’ve ever experienced before.”
She was anxious to be reassured, but he couldn’t dawdle. He had to get to the end or he was afraid he might injure himself. He was that aroused, that out of control from his desire for her.
He flexed with his hips, gradually pressing himself into her tight sheath. Through it all, he was playing with her nipples, distracting her as her own passion rose.
When she arched up, when she cried out again, he gave a hard push, and he was fully impaled. The elation of it, the excitement of it, was beyond imagining.
He’d intended a slow fornication where he could revel in the event, but she was hot and wet, her virgin’s blood urging him on. He’d lusted after her forever, practically his whole life it seemed. After a few thrusts, his ardor crested, his seed rushing to the tip
of his phallus.
He spilled himself against her womb, and he preened with satisfaction. He’d ensnared her. She was his, and even if she awakened in the morning and suffered massive regrets she wouldn’t be able to escape.
Nor could he. If he awoke at dawn and sanity had returned, if he started to recall his duty to his family and the Boltons, any gallant inclination would be quashed by the realization that she might already be carrying his child.
He collapsed onto her, and for several minutes they lingered in a potent, nostalgic silence. He was stunned by what they’d perpetrated, astounded by how grand it had been, but what was her opinion?
He drew away and looked at her, and when he saw tears in her eyes he was stricken with remorse. Had he hurt her? Had she hated it?
“What is it?” he murmured. “Don’t tell me you’re sad. I can’t bear to hear that you are.”
“I’m not sad. I’m just…just…” She couldn’t complete the sentence. Apparently, there wasn’t a word to describe the emotions flooding her.
“It will get better the more we do it. The first time is always awkward.”
“It wasn’t awkward.”
“Good.”
“But…but…I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?”
“No, that’s what occurs to end a girl’s condition.”
“It’s different than I envisioned. You’ve opened a secret door and let me peek in. How could this be conduct people regularly engage in, but I didn’t know?”
“You definitely know now, you Jezebel.” He grinned. “You’ll have to wed me to protect your reputation. You can’t change your mind.”
“Neither can you.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” He sighed with contentment and rolled onto his side. He pulled her to him so she was partially draped over his chest, her ear resting directly over his heart.
“Now what?” she asked. “How should we proceed?”
“I should get you out of this house.”
“Should you? It’s awfully late.”
“Not immediately, you silly goose. I told Gertrude I was leaving early in the morning so I’ll depart, then I’ll come back and fetch you. How about noon? Would that be convenient?”
“Yes.”
