by Gayle Eden
“—Yes. I understand.” She tried to calm her heart and breathing.
He promised, just before going inside, “I’ll pleasure you all the way back to Rotherham hall.”
Which, she thought moments later—smiling her countess smile—made the hour drag for an eternity.
Finally, they did the polite adieu, leaving more whispers and gossips behind. Once more in the coach, she leaned her head back and sighed, “The noise, takes some getting used to. The sheer number of people.”
“That is not even a crush by London standards.” he informed and then took off his coat, laying it with her gloves and cape, which she removed.
Trevon’s long muscled legs brushed hers as he slid so that he was across from her, a position that normally left a man of his height with little legroom. However, he leaned forward and slid the hem of her gown up, all the way to her waist, before parting her legs and widening them by spreading them over his own.
“Trevon…” she began, but did not get much further before he began to caress her legs, to skim up the inside.
“I smell your musk. Your heat. It has its own alluring bouquet.”
She groaned and peeked down, watching him glide two fingers between the folds, seeing her wet heat on them as he rubbed the nub and forced her legs wider with his. This time, she arched and closed her eyes, her breathing tumultuous, sounds that were unmasked in the coach.
He thrust his finger slowly into her sex, then two. He eased them out to tease back between the globes of her derrière and then up. He abraded that pleasure spot, until she was digging her fingers into the supple leather seat by her hips.
Panting, moaning softly, Alina whispered, “My God...” When he thrust faster, gliding in her damp heat and touching nerves inside her sex that she did not know were there. He went back to circling around those nerves.
She managed, “What did you mean about coming to you, asking for you—”
“My sex. Here.” He sank two fingers deep. “At the moment you are caught up in the need to climax, and I am intent on giving it to you.”
“But—”
“Stop thinking, Alina. Enjoy the pleasure.”
She did, feeling him touch everywhere down there—feeling as he began to firm his rubs and strokes over those nerves. The burning squeeze came, and exploded in a silken fog of pleasure. The climax that had her milking the fingers he eased inside her—and brought a moan of exquisite satisfaction to her lips.
Alina felt him adjust her clothing. He helped her straighten in the seat.
His lips brushed over hers, in a supple and sexy kiss.
She leaned so that her face could cool by the window, observing him slide over in his seat and prop a boot sole on the seat, his elbow on the window ledge.
She sounded sleepy, somewhat groggy as she offered, “You won’t take me, will you?”
“By that, you mean I won’t assume my sex in you is what you want, other than a climax?”
She nodded.
“No. Though, it is not that simple. Or rather it need not be. When you are aroused, Alina, there is a dozen or more ways to heighten it and squeeze more out of it, that is erotic. Do not assume I wed for a brood mare, and heirs. Nor, that I made you my wife, to fuck you at my leisure.”
Her eyes opened wide. She sat up. “What did you say?”
He grunted. “A man’s cock can have a mind of their own and perform the act to satisfaction. We can release when the need is there. But, having me, Alina, is different.”
“I don’t understand,” she confessed in a whisper. At first thinking he was angry—when he uttered that word, now, realizing he was something between aroused and struggling with something she did not comprehend.
“No,” he uttered quietly. “You do not. However, I would not have you think I gain nothing from pleasuring you. I assure you, I do. I stood in that ballroom trying to spy a discreet spot I could lift your gown and get my fingers inside you. I had a dozen conversations where mentally, I could feel the sleek skin and honey flowing between your thighs. Every time I caught a whiff of your perfume, I wanted to breathe it on your breasts—and, touching those, I shall never tire of.”
Shivering sexually at that confession coming from such a hard and otherwise enigmatic man, something dawned on her, and she began hesitantly, “Are you incapable of…I mean, if you are impo—”
Rotherham shifted across from her and took her hand, pressing it between his spread thighs.
She felt the potent heat and the elongated fullness of a hard and aroused cock.
Rotherham released her hand, and as they were arriving at the hall now, said only, “Does that answer?”
“Yes.” She allowed him to help her down, and was on his arm when they entered the house.
Alina went above, to wash and prepare for bed, she changed into a cream silk robe and sat in the dark afterwards, with her hair drying—her mind on the puzzling man she had wed—feeling as if she should be able to read beyond the words. Yet he was so much a dark puzzle. So much a stranger, as ironic as that was.
It occurred to her, that he was aroused touching her. It pleased him that she was attracted enough to be aroused by him. Everything a wedded couple—or lovers—should desire. Yet there was a wall there, one she must figure out how to get over.
Still lying there, on her side, gazing at the shadows cast through the window, she heard him enter his chambers, and later dismiss the valet. Alina heard a thud, a tight curse, the tinkling of pouring brandy. She debated simply going to him, forcing a more clarifying conversation. But somehow the tentative otherwise good parts of the new marriage, warned her not to.
Closing her eyes, she promised herself, I will figure it out, in time.
* * * *
Audra paced the apartments, striding by moonlight, in her light cotton robe and wisp of a night rail. She had one arm around her waist the other hand absently rubbing her lip while trying to make sense of what happened earlier in the study.
If she had only known that the Viscount was in there… There was no way she would have entered that room in her night clothing, with hair down, if she had suspected any man would be about.
But she had recalled his lordship offering her the use of it to write or borrow from his small personal library, and she had grown restless wishing she had joined them at the Walsh’s, and thus gone there…He, Rane Crawford, had been behind the desk. He had stood as soon as she entered. Audra had spun on her heel to leave, spying the unfolding of that long graceful frame, and the light catching on his red/gold hair and tawny eyes.
“Don’t leave. I was just delivering some papers…”
She had turned again, glancing from his handsome, that male feline visage, to the packet he touched on the desktop.
“We share some investments, Rotherham and I...”
She had swallowed and dropped her eyes to the floor. “I’m not dressed for…guests. I was going to borrow a book.’
He cautiously came round the desk, and from the corner of her eye, she saw he wore snug buff trousers, a white linen shirt and wine boots. The Viscount stood tentatively at the edge of it. He offered softly, “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Audra.”
She had jerked her eyes to his, her heart beating sharp forceful beats. Her eyes wide.
He had smiled slightly and backed up, to half sit on the desk, the tone of his voice next husky and soft, “I sense you are uncomfortable around men. However, have we not been alone a dozen times, even in the coach? You have no cause to ever fear me.”
Aware of the thin garments, her cleavage and unconfined breasts, she found herself murmuring, “You are not unlike Rotherham, in your way.”
His brow rose.
“I sense…something dangerous in you, too.”
He looked down a moment and then back up, his jasper gaze direct. “It is habit, old training, from my military days—and perhaps around you, a bit of over protectiveness.”
She frowned and murmured, “Why should you—”
&
nbsp; He winced. “Can we simply not leave it at the fact that what I sense in your guardedness, evokes a natural protectiveness in me?” He shrugged.
She leaned back against the closed doors, arms around her waist as she held his gaze, careful to notice if he looked in her eyes or at her breasts, which many men did. “Who told you?”
He appeared as if he wanted to deny it, yet admitted, “Rotherham.”
She groaned. “He knows….”
“It was not your fault.” She heard him saying. “It was a crime, Audra, a horrible crime, and any bastard who claims otherwise needs to be shot.”
Lifting lashes that she had closed tightly seconds before, Audra felt the flush on her face, though she searched his for the sincerity in that. “It was four—almost five, years ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No,” he soothed. “There’s no need. He’ll pay for it though, every dog like that does.”
She saw that danger in his eyes. “I don’t want him confronted. I just want to forget it all.”
“Of course,” he replied. Yet she knew he lied. She had a feeling he was personally going to do something.
She glanced down at the floor. “It’s not the virginity that is lost, that matters. It is the trust, the feeling violated and helpless. I was never helpless, never that weak, and filled with terror— never hurt that way, before.”
“Christ.” He stood and had taken a step toward her before her head raised. Audra’s gaze stopped him.
Rane uttered, with a muscle ticking in his jaw, “Men are bastards, some are curs, Audra. I cannot defend animals like that. I will not. Nevertheless, I neither see you as weak or ruined…”
He ran a hand through his hair, finally going back to his seat. “I won’t take advantage of your trust.”
She breathed shallowly, knowing that instinctively, though saying, “You look at me, watch me….”
He stared at her. “I’m attracted to you. I can’t help that.”
Flushing, she glanced over at the shelves, down, and up, to the French door across the way.
“Audra, look at me.” his gentle tone brought her hazel eyes reluctantly back to his.
He searched her face and held her gaze before offering smoothly, “I’m attracted to you in the normal way men can be, to a beautiful and intelligent woman. I like the way you speak, the way you smile and laugh, and the way you talk about your interests. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that watching you arouses me. It pleases me. But I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me that.” She glanced away.
“I wish I didn’t have to, so soon. I would rather you discern the difference in healthy attraction and know my character beforehand. However, I won’t risk you avoiding me, either.”
“I’m not weak. Not a child. I just…” She shook her head.
“I know.”
She chewed her lip, and then peeked at him again. “I don’t understand why someone like you would be attracted to me. To those things.”
His brow rose, a half smile on his lips. “It’s not your weakness, to be sure. Rather it is the opposite. Your beauty impacts a man as soon as he looks at you, and when you lose that guardedness, you’ve quite a wit and way about you.”
She smiled slightly and flushed. “I used to…”
“What?” he encouraged softly.
“I used to put on trousers and walk miles to fish. I even cook well, and I was…well I tried to make a life full of interesting things, despite Mother’s insistence on keeping low company. Alina and I laughed. We had our own way of making life all right…” her voice trailed off.
“The trauma didn’t take that from you. Perhaps, for a while, you needed to heal from the shock, to rid yourself of the emotions. But you retained the whole of yourself.”
She nodded, having taken years to come to that conclusion. Still, she never assumed a man would ever understand that, ever care enough, to hear her explain it.
Audra glanced down at the sinew at his throat then his tanned hands resting on the desk, one, on his muscled thigh. She was not dead inside and had drawn a normal contrast between the corpulent and sweaty old Lord, the brutal animal—and this young, prime male—strong and virile without having that something she’d always sensed about Buckland, who peeked around corners, through door cracks, and who preyed on people. She did not mind Rane’s protectiveness. It was not smothering. She sensed he was the sort of alert male who picked up things she would not. But of course, he was also sensually handsome and gracefully muscled.
Perhaps, it was those natural feelings that made the discomfort more evident, because she had not wanted to see him in that light. His manner and way both intrigued her and made her aware of her mature womanhood.
She flickered a peek over his longish mane, which he had ruffled with his fingers, and glanced down across his shoulders.
Rane remained calm and steady under her gaze, his mouth relaxed in an almost grin, and eyes watchful in that lion like way.
“I don’t know what to say or do now,” she confessed. Their relationship had switched in seconds, it became more intimate, and she the more exposed.
“Just be yourself.”
Audra sighed out a shuddering breath and skimmed her gaze toward the shelves once more. “What do you expect from me?”
“Rane. My Christian name is Rane, as to your question. I expect trust. I want that, above anything.”
Audra nodded.
“If you feel something, Audra, ask me. Even if I would rather not admit it, even if it were something I may think you do not want to hear, I will tell you the truth. I would rather you ask—than assume.”
She tested him, though it was in a half choked voice, “Do you deliberately not stare at my breasts as most men do.”
“Yes,” he said bluntly. Then, “Yet I do look at you covertly. I am human, and I am as aroused by your body as much as I am intrigued by your character.”
Dear Lord. She did not think he would actually tell her the truth.
Then he said, with an odd tone, “I want you, Audra and it has nothing to do with taking advantage or slaking lust or power. I want to make love to you.”
Audra thought of fainting, of dashing out the door, but she only stood there rooted and swallowing repeatedly.
He finally arose and came to stand before her, his height making her glance up, his arms lightly folded whilst he met her gaze.
“When you are ready for real kisses, I want to give them to you. When you are ready to be touched for your pleasure—I want to be the one who renders it.”
One hand came out and touched her chin. “When you are ready to experience the pleasure a woman can, I’ll show you how to find it. As , in all that, Audra, I will be as nervous, as eager, as fascinated, as excited—as you. In all of that, you can trust me to be patient. This is the first time in my life I have ever had to really see a woman, in any way, other the usual slaking of lusts. I see you, Audra. It stuns me at times, how vividly I see you.”
Her breathing shallow, she waited until he dropped his hand and while scanning over his face, searching, and see the truth, whispered, “Mayhap that is why you scare me, Rane. It is not like the other, not that kind of danger. Yet perhaps that is why I feel that intensity in you.”
He sighed and smiled, his frown at odds with it. “I’m an intense man, perhaps. Though it is not so bad a thing in intimacy.”
“Perhaps not.” She looked away. “I should return to my rooms.”
“Yes. Although that is not my first desire, I would settle for talking like this with you. But, I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
He stepped back and she turned to leave, looking over her shoulder at him and pausing to say, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For… being honest.”
“Audra,” He was shaking his head slowly, skin taut over the aristocratic bones on his face, eyes a slightly darker gold. “I’m falling in love with you.”
&nbs
p; She fled to her rooms.
Now however, she had to replay all that he had said, all that he had promised, and confessed too. Inside, she warred between wanting and avoiding, afraid she was somehow damaged— unable to have any normal intimacy, afraid of love and of falling in love with him, too.
In the end, she fled to her bed and wept—wept, as she had not since that horrid event had torn her soul asunder, and left her a stranger to herself. Hours passed as she sobbed out all the old emotions, the new fears, and tangled feelings, towards Rane Crawford.
Chapter 4
Rotherham, accepted no invites in the four days that Alina was having her menses. He worked in the study, rode—and was aware she and Lady Audra sat in the gardens, Audra sketching and Alina pacing mostly. They went for long walks, took the buggy to the local vicars, and Alina took one of the maids with her to meet some of the tenants of Rotherham Hall.
Every day, he was more satisfied with his choice of bride. Every day, he watched her grow into the skin she was born to, to move, dress, and be confident as a Countess. He had known however, from that first steady regard she had given him, standing at that derelict cottage, that she was made of something stronger than the typical lady. She was a survivor.
He had grasped even more, by her honest admission of why she accepted the marriage, and by her protectiveness for her younger sibling Audra.
That lady, Audra—he’d his doubts about, until her past was explained, the trauma she had experienced at seventeen. And, until he and Rane both observed her when she relaxed and dropped her guard, realizing there was nothing to fear in her new life. He was not actually surprised that Rane admitted an attraction for her, aside from the obvious physical; she had a maturity, a sharp mind, and a touch of wit her sister shared.
Alina, however, held a few surprises; despite his thinking, he knew everything about her before the marriage. He intended to stay in control of the relationship, providing for her needs, her desires, giving her whatever she wanted within those bounds. But he had found himself admitting that he enjoyed pleasuring her. And that—was putting it mildly.
