by Janet Woods
‘I have feelings that I do not yet understand.’ She could not tear her eyes away from his, and the breathless anticipation in her voice was all to apparent to her. ‘Is that wrong?’
When she would have hung her head again, he prevented her. A tiny narrowing of his eyes made her head spin. Then, when a tender smile creased the corners of his mouth, she was attacked by a profusion of blushes.
Drawing her down upon a wooden bench he took her hand and traced along the sensitive creases of her palm. ‘Such feelings are natural when a man and woman are each attracted to the other. The eventual outcome is the ecstasy they can experience together. Those feelings are born of the need to procreate, as nature intended.’
Her lips found his and she whispered against them. ‘I’d have us experience that ecstasy together soon.’
Sweet Jesus! His tongue flickered into her mouth and tasted of its sweetness before he set her from him. ‘You seek to push me beyond endurance.’ His eyes reflected the vulnerability of his position. ‘Such familiarity must be reserved for the privacy of the boudoir from now on. You will inform me when your indisposition is resolved.’
‘You’re incredibly prudish at times.’ Rising to her feet she walked to the water’s edge. Her face was impish with laughter when she slanted him a glance over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps I’ll forget to inform you.’ Such consternation came into his face that she couldn’t help but giggle. ‘What if my feelings desert me altogether?’
He gazed threateningly at her when she giggled again, then said with a tightly controlled grin. ‘Perhaps I’ll beat you, after all. Today seems a good day for it.’
Picking up her skirts, she fled when he made a threatening move towards her. It didn’t take him long to catch her up. His hands spanned her waist and she was effortlessly lifted off her feet and twirled around until she was breathless with laughter.
‘You, madam, deserved to be punished.’ His eyes darkened with passion as he slid her down his body and set her on her feet. Softly, he informed her. ‘One day I’ll bind you to the bed with silken cords, and you’ll beg for release before I’m through with you.’
She shivered at the silky possessiveness of his voice, but it was a shiver of rapture. Her body responded most favorably to the threat, informing her it was impatient to experience this journey into the unknown.
‘Is that a promise, husband?’ she murmured, her eyes flirting deliciously with his.
‘Most definitely.’ Well pleased with her response, he gently captured her mouth and sealed the promise with a kiss.
Kitty and Brian’s wedding was solemnised by the catholic priest in an arbor decorated with almond blossoms.
Willow had not seen Kitty since she’d been dismissed as her maid, and her eyes pricked with unshed tears when she studiously avoided her eyes. She was polite when Willow offered her congratulations after the ceremony, and dropped her a curtsy. Their relationship had irrevocably changed and she’d never been more aware of the gulf between mistress and servant.
She was quiet when she left on Gerard’s arm, realizing something of her childhood had died. She experienced a few moments of insecurity, then put it behind her as she gazed at the house she’d grown to love. Her future had never been clearer to her. Her destiny was to live her life within its walls, warm the bed of the man who was her husband and bear his children. She would grow old and die here. Her portrait and Gerard’s would join the others in the gallery, and be forgotten in time. The first son they produced from their union, and all the Lytton first born sons who followed after, would perpetuate the process. Life was short when measured in portraits, so she’d better get on with it.
‘Gerard,’ she asked? ‘Where are the family records kept?’
‘In the library.’ He slanted her a questioning glance. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I thought I might like to learn a little about your ancestors.’ Spreading her fan to hide her nervousness, she gazed at him, her eyes seductively innocent. ‘I do not wish to appear ignorant when our children ask about them.’
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth when he realized she was being delicate. ‘You’re no longer indisposed?’
‘No.’ Her voice was softly shy and a faint pink tint dawned on the creamy skin above the spread of the fan. ‘Gerard… ?’ There was a tiny pleading note in her voice. ‘I’m not as bold as appeared yesterday. I cannot be other than apprehensive.’
‘Your apprehension will be short-lived,’ he promised, captivated by her guilelessness. ‘My intention is to make your initiation a delight for you.’ Brushing her fan aside he gently kissed her, then unwittingly revealed his eagerness for the consummation by murmuring. ‘If you’d care to accompany me to my chamber, I have a gift for you.’
‘I cannot.’ Her laugh made him aware she’d seen through his ruse. ‘Edward is recovering from quinsy. Although his fever is abating and the soreness almost gone from his throat, I’ve promised his nurse I’ll sit with him for a short time whilst she attends the wedding feast. Your gift must wait until later.’
‘Perhaps I can read him a story.’
‘It’s strange this sudden interest you have in Edward.’ She gave him a teasing grin. ‘Does the thought of fatherhood appeal to you?’
‘The thought of begetting that child has more priority at the moment,’ he whispered, keeping his voice as teasing as hers. ‘You’re a fetching creature, My Lady Sommersley, and shall be properly brought to bed tonight. Then we shall discover who’s the greater tease.’
Daphne de Vere, dying! Gerard gazed at the travel weary messenger and tried to gauge his feelings. He was sorry for Daphne, of course. They’d been childhood playmates and once betrothed. Despite that, it was difficult for him to clearly recall her face. His eyes went back to the note. Come on receipt of this note, Gerard. I have information of the greatest importance to impart to you, and little time left in which to do it. Daphne. This could only be to tell him what he already knew, that Edward was the product of his barely remembered coupling with her on the night of his wedding to Willow.
The note couldn’t have arrived at a worst time. About to retire, and having looked forward all afternoon to sampling the delights of his wife’s flesh, he was now called at short notice to the deathbed of a woman he’d come to despise. Yet, it was imperative she confirmed his relationship with Edward. If the child was about to inherit Sheronwood, he intended to seek legal guardianship. Having Daphne’s signature on the petition would greatly enhance his chances. It would give him control of Sheronwood estate until the boy came of age, and prevent the Marquis from plundering it.
‘I’ll leave within the hour,’ he said, realizing he had very little choice.
Neither the messenger nor his beast were in a fit state to accompany him. He’d take the stallion. The horse was sound of wind, and able to cover long distances at fast speed. He’d proved to be most manageable now he’d been broken. ‘Stable your horse, then find yourself a bed in the servant’s quarters.’
Breaking the news to Willow would be the hard part. He only hoped his gift would mollify any disappointment she might experience. She could not fail to admire the finely wrought gold chain. At intervals along its length, tiny diamonds twinkled like stars. The pearly clasp represented the moon. Dangling it from his finger so it sparkled in the candle light, he made his way to her chamber, an apology framed on his lips.
‘It’s indeed a handsome gift,’ she exclaimed. Clad only in a gauzy chemise, her hair was agleam with perfumed ripples.
Her face had been in shadow when he’d told her he could not stay, but she did not sound at all distressed when she murmured in a low voice. ‘You will secure your gift about my person before you leave? I’d keep it close to me until your return.’
Touched by the sentiment, he fumbled the clasp open, and was about to place it around her neck when she whispered. ‘I would have it about my waist.’
He experienced a sense of wonder when she undid the ribbons at her shoulders and shrugged the chemise free. It pooled
around her ankles like a silken mist. She still wore her hose, tied about her thighs with pale pink ribbons. Her body was small waisted and exquisitely formed, tempting enough to rouse any red-blooded male.
He was no exception. His fingers trembled when he clasped the chain around her waist. The clasp fell naturally into the enclave of her navel. His eyes travelled downwards to her silky pelt, his throat drying at the sensuous picture she presented in her stockings and waist chain.
‘Thank you, husband’ she whispered, her smile so virginal and pure that he had a primitive urge to throw her to the floor like some conquering soldier and ravish her until she screamed for mercy.
Did she really imagine he’d leave her yet? He could spare her an hour, at least. She belonged to him. He was ready for her, and she for him. Daphne could wait. Sliding his hands over the bones of her hips to her softly rounded buttocks, he fell to his knees, drew her towards him and kissed the dusky citadel at the junction of her thighs in sweet assault.
Willow’s eyes flew open in shocked surprise. She’d not imagined the sight of her naked body would incite such response from him. She tried not to panic at this excitingly, intimate assault. His intention to rush to Daphne’s side had brought such a tumult of jealousy into her heart that she’d determined to stop him before she succumbed to the urge to shred the skin from his face with her bare hands. Instinctively, she’d used the only weapon she had to keep him at her side.
His reaction to her seemingly innocent overtures was exciting, her shock, an erotic urge that almost compelled her to open herself to his seeking tongue. Before she could, his hands slid up her body and gently pulled her forward until her breasts almost brushed his lips. It seemed her breasts anticipated his onslaught, for each nipple thrust towards the dewy curl of his tongue with an unbearable, erotic eagerness.
Even as a moan of protest left her lips her body reacted with thrilling abandonment, then the moan became a long drawn out groan of pleasure. Her head arched backwards, then slowly came forward, her hair cascading about her husband’s head. All her inhibitions fled. This ecstasy of feeling was totally unexpected. Even as she wondered if it were normal to feel such joy in her nakedness, she reveled in it.
Taking his face in her palms, she tilted it upwards and gazed into the passionate depths of his eyes. ‘Is it shameful to feel such… desire?’
He quivered. Half his face was in shadow, the other half etched with candle-glow. The dark hollows of his eyes reflected the flame and burned with white light. A pulse leaped against the restraint of her palm. He could have easily broken the barrier of her hands, but he just smiled. ‘Nothing is shameful between husband and wife.’
‘I wish to please you.’ She hesitated, then giving a shy smile, added earnestly. ‘I also wish to please myself. I did not think to find a man’s body so attractive. I confess to having urges, which may be immodest. If I touch you in the ways you touch me would that be too forward? I have no wish to shock you.’ When his mouth curved into a smile, her face heated. ‘Do not laugh at me,’ she implored, lowering her eyes in sudden confusion.
His gently brushed his lips against each closed eyelid as he whispered with great tenderness. ‘I’m not laughing, my love.’ His palms slid with sensuous warmth over each silken buttock when he pulled her on to his lap. ‘I was smiling at your impatience. You’re hardly a wife, yet you seek to experience everything at once.’ His words contained no censure, only dry amusement.
She giggled. ‘That’s true, Gerard.’ Her fingers busied themselves with the fastenings at his throat, whilst his, amused themselves exploring that which she usually sat upon. ‘Will you not make yourself a little more comfortable?’ she invited, wriggling a little when he tickled her. ‘The state of nakedness is very pleasant.’
He gave a throaty chuckle. His hands cupped her buttocks as he lifted her against him and effortlessly rose to his feet in one fluid motion. He brushed his fingers lightly against the soft skin of her inner thighs, so near to the centre of her desire she felt exposed and helpless. Resisting the urge to lift her legs and anchor herself around his waist she tensed slightly. That would put her most private part directly upon the very obvious swelling contained within his breeches. Her newly found courage fled, and she stammered blushingly. ‘You’re causing me much confusion in this matter, Gerard.’
Dipping his head, he found her lips and murmured against them. ‘For that I’m grateful, my love. I’d not have the initiative taken from me on this occasion.’ His hands made further invasion, and she seemed to have no choice when he lifted her a little higher, but to circle his body with her legs.
The power of his maleness was maddeningly apparent, his strength pulsing against her, waiting to be unleashed upon her soft female body. A great lassitude filled her limbs and a trembling urge to be possessed rendered her weakly submissive. Gerard would fill her, she thought. He would make her submit to his needs from this day forward. She knew she belonged to him, knew he could do with her as he wished. Perspiration dewed her as her body reacted with primitive joy to the knowledge. Her heart began to race so fast she thought it might fly from her chest. Laying her head against his shoulder in supplication, she whispered quietly. ‘Pray be gentle. My courage has all but deserted me.’
The possessive kiss he gave her left her gasping for breath, and did nothing to reassure her. She was trembling when he lowered her to the bed. Half mesmerized by the glance that raked her body, yet feeling immodest, she sought to escape from the abandoned position he’d placed her in by drawing her knees up.
‘Stay like that,’ he growled, his glance slowly caressing her.
Her limbs seemed suspended in honey as she watched him deftly strip the clothes from his body. His skin was smooth and golden in the firelight, lightly furred across the chest and stomach, darkening to a wiry nest from whence his manly part sprang in proud defiance of gravity.
He would hurt her, she decided, quivering a little. Her body could not support the incursion from something so large and rigid. Yet the warm, dewy folds that would allow her to receive it seemed to pulsate with its own invitation, and delighted in the prospect.
She’d expected him to enter her straight away, but he did not. Joining her on the bed he laid his thigh across her parted legs and lowered his lips to her nipples. ‘Ah… sweet agony!’ she cried, as her tortured nipples swelled into his mouth. A soft, triumphant chuckle reached her ears. Then she experienced an insidious fluttering sensation between her thighs, like butterflies. First, she arched towards it, seeking it out, then when she realized it was his soft exploration she blushed, and sought to bring her legs together.
‘Enjoy it, My Lady,’ he coaxed against her ear. ‘I’ve no intention of letting you escape me now.’
Everything was sensation. His lips whispered loving words of intent, his hands and mouth carried it out. She began to anticipate him, her mouth opening to him, her tongue flirting with his, her breasts unashamedly competing for his touch, and her most private place… ? He’d made it his own possession. She surrendered it willingly, arching the secret spring of her desire against his fingers in feverish symphony to his rhythm. Full of wild longings, she gasped out his name.
Willow was proving to be more passionate than Gerard had thought possible. Hardly able to contain himself, he watched her neck curve in abandoned ecstasy. ‘Who’s the tease now, My Lady?’ he whispered against her ear. The breathless gasp she gave in reply, served only to inflame him more.
Dipping his head, he slid his tongue along the length of her body and made unerringly for the erectly sensitive tongue that nestled amongst its damp nest. She gave a long shuddering moan and tried to bring her thighs together.
He wanted her moist. When he felt her on the brink of shuddering dampness, he straddled her and gazed down upon her. His passion was like a wild beast captured inside him. It was time to unleash it. Willow’s eyes were closed, her head arched back, her hands abandoned on the pillow. She was panting from a partially opened mouth, and her tumble
d hair lay in wild ringlets about her. He covered her hands with his own.
She opened her eyes, imploring him in a purple, glistening blaze of sensuality as she gazed back at him. ‘Gerard, my husband… take me unto you.’
The whispered supplication shivered erotically in the air between them. Locking her eyes into his, he guided his arousal into her velvet citadel and nudged himself just inside her. She whimpered slightly when he encountered resistance. Closing his mouth over hers he pushed a little harder. Something totally unexpected happened. Her stocking clad legs clasped around his waist and she deliberately arched herself against him. The resistance gave and he slid into her and felt her muscles close around him.
‘Sweet Jesus!’ he whispered, momentarily wondering if he’d ever experienced such a sensuous woman. She was trembling beneath him, utterly abandoned to the pleasure she experienced. Gently murmuring his name, she gripped him when he slid away from her, as if determined to keep him inside her.
He’d meant to take his time, but her action excited him beyond endurance. He moved against her, into her, aware she was encouraging him with small cries. Then she was rising against him, moving with him, faster and faster into chaos created by their peaking passions. They reached an explosive climactic fulfillment together, her long shuddering gasp matched by his cry of triumph when she captured the hot flood of his passion deep inside her.
He collapsed against her, his heart racing like a wild creature and booming within the cavern of his chest. Her fingers began stroking his hair in a most loving manner, gentling him, like she did her horse. The soft arches of her feet caressed against his buttocks, then came to rest upon his calves in the hollows behind his knees. It was several seconds before his breathing quieted enough to raise himself up and look at her. Her face had the sultry, softness of a woman who’d been loved well. He smiled, pleased with both her and himself. ‘That was not too onerous a duty, was it?’
‘Indeed, not? She’d not forgotten how to blush, for her cheeks stained a delicate rose. ‘You’re pleased with me, Gerard?’
