Heartless Lord Harry
Page 20
Her hand found him again, and she moaned a little in frustration when she realized his pants were in the way. Turning away briefly, he pulled down his breeches and turned back. At first she was too shy to look, but then she lifted her eyes and watched him kneeling over her. He lowered himself and stroked her skin with the shaft that was so soft and so hard at the same time. He began with his finger to make her ready for him, and continued by rubbing the tip of his phallus against her until she thought she would die from the pleasure. “Now, Harry, please, now,” she murmured.
He knew he would hurt her this first time, and so he went slowly. But she arched herself against him and pushed upward as he carefully moved down, and then he was inside her. As he began to thrust, he had one moment of panic, as the movement brought back memory, but then he was conscious only of the present. He cupped his hands under her head and gently rode her. And after his climax, before he pulled himself out, he rolled her over on top of him and reaching his finger between her legs, brought her the ecstasy he’d been promising.
Kate was all liquid. Had she been truly water, she would have just flowed down over Harry, over the fellside, giving her innermost self to him, to the grass, the ground, to everything. He had filled her to overflowing, and she felt that she could never be empty again.
“Oh, God,” he groaned as he rolled over and grabbed her to him. “I love you so much and look what I have done to you.” But he didn’t say it despairingly, although she knew he was sorry. There was the same exultation in his voice that she felt.
“And I love you, Harry Lifton,” she said and smiled into his face, daring him to regret a second.
A look of wonder crossed his face. “You do?”
“And does tha think I roll around t’fell with just anyone! I was t’one to kiss first, and tha remember that, lad!”
“That is true, and thank God you did. For I was far too frightened to do it. But then, it was like being taken over by… I don’t know what.”
“Joy and hunger.”
“Yes. And I have been wanting you since Padstow. It is strange, isn’t it? That whole day was about desire, and union, pure and clean and not dirtied by violence. It helped me believe a little in myself again. When I returned to London, it was as though a fever had broken. I no longer felt driven to pursue undesirable young women.”
“Nor pursue me!”
“Because every bit of my so-called natural as breathing charm deserted me whenever I was close to you, Miss Kate Richmond.”
“And why was that, do you think?”
“Because from the moment I saw you emerge from under the ‘oss, I knew I wanted you and was terrified I could hurt you.”
“Only wanted me?” asked Kate with a small shiver.
Harry pulled her closer. “Loved you,” Harry answered simply. His hands began to wander again and in a few moments he was as hard as he had been a short while ago. This time their lovemaking was more leisurely, and even more pleasurable, for this time they had both fully taken in the fact that each loved and was loved in return.
* * * *
Although the sun was warm, there was still a cool breeze, and after lying entwined for a few minutes, they both began to feel cold. Harry helped Kate with the tapes of her dress, and she looked away as he pulled up his breeches and stuffed his shirt into them.
“It is lucky you pushed my skirt up, Harry,” said Kate, for she had realized during their second lovemaking that the stickiness on her thighs came from blood as well as from him. Harry ran his hand through her curls and caressed the nape of her neck. “I am sorry to have forgotten what this meant for you, Kate.”
“Don’t be sorry for anything. I am not.”
“Do you know what someone in Padstow told me?” he asked her as they made their way down the hill.
“What?”
“That if a young woman comes out from under the ‘oss with soot on her face and tar on her arms, she will be married by Christmas.”
“Oh?” said Kate, very innocently.
“I do not think that we should let the ‘oss be proved wrong, do you?”
“Perhaps not, Harry.”
“Perhaps not! You had better marry me, Miss Kate Richmond,” he demanded, grabbing her around the waist. “Or Gabriel will have my head.”
“I would, Harry, but I don’t think I can stand the thought of another wedding!” she answered, teasing him.
“I promise you will not have to lift a finger, my dear.”
“Then the sooner the better,” Kate replied.
As they walked down the path, arms around each other’s waist, they were oblivious to their surroundings. Gabriel saw them go by, and turning to Benjamin, said happily, “Well, I guess we did reet in rescuing those two this February, eh, lad?” And when he found Kate’s abandoned shawl on the scree the next day, he just smiled and folded it up and placed it in the basket by the fire, and was not at all surprised when another wedding was announced for late September.
This one is for my brother, John Aloysius Farrell.
Thanks, Jack.
If it hadn’t been for sibling rivalry,
I wouldn’t be writing fiction.
* * *
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to:
John Langstaff and the Revels, who brought the “Oss” to America,
Folklife Productions, whose film, Oss! Oss! Wee Oss! was invaluable to me,
Steeleye Span, whose stirring rendition of the Padstow song can be heard on their recording “Tempted and Tried,”
and most important of all, the people of Padstow.
About the Author
Marjorie Farrell is a retired professor of writing, literature and interdisciplinary studies. Two of her favorite writers, Jeffrey Farnol and Georgette Heyer, led her to the Regency genre.
She has written both Regency and historical romances for Penguin-Putnam. Awards: Romantic Times: Best New Regency Author; nominated for Lifetime Achievement and finalist for a RITA.
Marjorie lives outside Boston, where she enjoys horseback riding, knitting and reading new romances.
Publishing Information
Copyright © 1993 by Marjorie Farrell
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 0451177339)
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: ebooks@regencyreads.com
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.