by Kelly Boyce
“Not at all,” she said, her hand rubbing lightly against it. “I think it quite fascinating.”
He tipped her chin up and caught her mouth, recapturing the heat of only a moment ago and setting the issue of the tattoo that commemorated the bond he’d had with his son aside. The still burning embers were quickly stoked back to full flame and soon he walked her back toward the bed, laid her upon it and himself upon her. The heat of her bare skin pressed against his, flesh on flesh, need meeting need, hearts embracing hearts, until the demons lurking in the darkest corners of his mind were chased away. His body longed to join with hers, to lose himself in her and put it all to rest and he was well on his way to doing that until it dawned on him he’d overlooked a certain obstacle.
His damnable boots needed to be removed. Something not easily accomplished with any sense of finesse.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “My boots,” he said, his breath ragged. “They need to come off.”
“As will your trousers, I would think.”
Her straightforwardness forced a laugh out of him. How easily she did that, without guile or intent. “Indeed. I’m afraid I will need your assistance.”
“I fear I am horribly unskilled at the removal of boots.”
“A fact I am very happy to hear. Luckily, it is an easy enough endeavor. If you will hold onto my foot, I will do all the work.” He shifted down to the far edge of the bed to allow him an amount of leverage.
“I’m hardly dressed for such a thing.”
His gaze traveled over her, her ivory skin noticeably flushed even in the dim light. “You are not dressed at all, my dear.”
She quickly reached for a pillow and placed it in front of her, regrettably cutting off his view of her beautifully flat belly, the tendrils of scars that reached across part of it. Thankfully, it did not restrict his view of her lovely, lithe legs.
“Hand me your foot, my lord,” she said, the tone of her voice such that would make any valet fear for his employment. He acquiesced to her command, keeping his gaze roving over the parts of her that the pillow did not cover.
“You are a vision of beauty, do you know that?”
“I am not.” She held his boot firm as he tugged, positioning his foot so it soon slipped free of its incumbrance. She tossed the boot aside.
“You are. And I should warn you—”
“Another warning? Oh, dear.” She took hold of his other boot and positioned it against the pillow.
“I plan on ravaging every inch of you.”
“Oh, my. Will I enjoy this ravaging?” The second boot was chucked over the edge of the bed.
Alex shifted his position and crawled toward her, grabbing the pillow and sending it in the same direction as the boot. “I shall make it my mission to ensure that you do. Repeatedly.”
“That sounds positively delicious but I think you’re forgetting one thing.”
Alex stopped, his body hovering over hers. “And what is that?”
“Your trousers,” she whispered, reaching down to tug at the front flap.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. People really did wear too many clothes. Why couldn’t they go back to dressing like the Romans? He shucked off his trousers in one swift motion and rolled back over to lie next to her, pulling the sheet up to keep her from catching a chill or feeling self-conscious. “Miss me?”
“Horribly.” She smiled and the expression lit something inside of him that had been shrouded in darkness for a very long time. His heart beat soundly in his chest. When was the last time it had done that? How long had he been walking through life in a fog? Since Edward’s death, surely, but had it been even longer than that?
Alex had never given the course of his life much thought. He had done his duty. He’d married a proper young lady of good breeding and produced the required heir. Ruth had been beautiful and proper and well mannered. All things required in a future duchess. And he had thought he’d loved her, though now, comparing it to the depth of feeling he had for Henrietta, he could no longer make such a claim with any true certainty. In truth, he had never looked too far beneath her beautiful surface. He wasn’t sure he’d have known what to look for if he did.
But age, tragedy, and loss had a way of altering a man to such a degree when he looked back, he barely remembered or recognized the young man he had once been.
“I think you may have changed me,” he said, reaching up and pulling several pins from her hair, gathering them in his hand.
“Changed you? Did you require changing?”
“Likely.”
“How have I changed you?”
“I think you made me face myself and I’m afraid I didn’t like everything that I saw.”
Henrietta reached up and pulled the hand holding the pins toward her and kissed his knuckles. “I like what I see.”
He did not miss the sinful glint in her eye. “And what did you see?”
“You have a very nice bottom.”
“Hen!” Laughter burst out of him unexpectedly. He never knew what to expect from her. It was a positively delightful thing to discover. “And how many men’s bottoms have you seen?”
“Unclothed? Just yours. But I think it is likely better than all the others, so I feel quite confident in my assessment.”
Alex shook his head. James had often claimed Henrietta to have a quick mind but he had never mentioned what a wicked sense of humor she possessed. Likely, she had not allowed that to be on full display around her brother. Had she, no doubt James would have never allowed her to step foot off their country estate.
She shivered and Alex dropped the hairpins over the side of the bed and moved closer, gathering her in his arms. Sweet Lord, what a glorious sensation to have her bare flesh pressed against his. Her soft skin, warmth, and sweet scent made him instantly hard. He took a deep breath to regain control. He would not rush this. He would not hurt her any more than nature deemed necessary.
He ran his fingers through her long hair, now fully relieved of all its pins. It was truly glorious. Thick and luxurious. “Everything about you is wonderful,” he murmured.
“Not everything,” she said and while he understood her meaning, he did not agree with it.
“Yes, everything.” He moved away, just far enough to pull the sheet down to her hip. He leaned in to kiss the mottled skin at her neck and shoulder, pressing his lips against the scarred and unscarred skin, working his way down to her hip. There were gaps along her ribcage where the licks of the flames were longer, but well-spaced, then as he reached her hip, they grew closer together once more, though flatter in appearance, and pulled against the skin of her belly without extending far enough to reach her bellybutton. The scars missed her bottom completely and he ran his hand over the smooth flesh, reveling in the roundness. On her thigh, there was a scar the size of his hand, with fingers of its own that reached downward toward her knee.
Her gaze fell away from his and she tugged at the sheet, bringing it back to cover her breasts. “It is fine for you to tell the truth, Alex. I see them every day and have grown use to them, but to someone who hasn’t—”
“To someone who hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing this glorious body in the altogether, I pity them. And none of your scars, not a one of them, looks any less exquisite than the rest of you. In them, I see your story. I see markings that denote strength that has been forged in fire. I see a woman who has overcome a horrible tragedy and whose character has grown into something far lovelier than I can find words to express. This is what I see when I see your scars and so to me they will remain nothing but beautiful.”
A tear slipped across her cheek and Alex pulled her close once more and kissed it away, tasting its saltiness on his tongue. Then tasting her lips, her tongue, her breath. “Don’t cry, sweeting.”
“They are not sad tears,” she said, pressing her lips against his mouth. “It is only that you are the first one who has seen what the scars added. Everyone else sees only what they took away. Even James. When he look
s at me, at my scars, he sees his failure to keep me safe and cannot see beyond that. But you—” She reached up and touched his face and there it was again, that uncanny intimacy that such a simple touch created. “You see me. I wish I could express to you what a gift that is.”
Alex smiled and kissed the curve of her neck. “It cannot be more of a gift than the woman I hold in my arms. A gift I plan on unwrapping and taking much pleasure in. Would you like that?”
Her head fell back against the pillows and her hips arched upward on a sharp breath as his hand traveled down her belly to the soft mound of silky hair at the juncture of her thighs. “Oh, yes. I think I would like that very much.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” he said, moving his hand farther down until his fingers slid against the moisture. He stroked her slowly, making her body squirm and her breath come in ragged gasps. Her hands grasped the sheets and pulled as she pushed into his hand searching for relief. Alex teased her a moment longer, watching carefully to know when she teetered on the brink before taking her over it, giving her pleasure that made her body shudder and voice cry out. He smothered her cry with his mouth, inhaling the power of her orgasm as he moved his body over hers and settled between her legs.
He was hard as a rock and pulsing with such sweet agony he did not know how much longer he could hold himself in check. He drew in deep breaths and waited for Hen to recover.
“That was…” She shook her head and stared up at him in wonder. “I don’t have words.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I did. I shall enjoy what comes next as well.”
“It may hurt at first, but I promise to be gentle.”
“I know you would not hurt me if you could avoid it.” She pressed her hips against him and Alex closed his eyes, his fingers digging into the feathered mattress on either side of her head. God help him, he would lose it like a green boy if she did that again and he was not inside of her.
He kissed her then, drinking her in and losing himself in the sensation, not wanting to waste a single moment of having her in his arms and not wanting it to end as soon as he knew it would.
“No regrets?” He whispered, almost afraid to hear her answer.
“Only that you are delaying your own pleasure. And mine.” She kissed him then, proving what a quick study she was. His mind spun and spiraled until their bodies became a bundle of tangled limbs and tongues and tastes and sensations. When he finally pushed inside of her slick confines, her body stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion. He hesitated, waiting; his patience rewarded as she relaxed then urged him on with a lift of her hips. If there was a more glorious sensation than being joined with her in this all-encompassing intimate dance, he could not think what it would be.
And then he could not think at all as the sensation of moving inside of her, feeling her body respond and give back, took over. Soon nothing else existed but the two of them and the sensations that rocked him from the inside out until it spiraled upward and exploded and caught them both unaware with its intensity. She arched against him, sending him into another world he had not known existed before this moment. Before this woman. And when all was said and done, the realization that he stood on the precipice of something great, something all-encompassing that would leave him a changed man from this moment forward settled around him, leaving him awed. And frightened.
When one cared this deeply, the loss was that much greater. And Alex had already experienced the damage loss could inflict. He already understood that loss did not care how much you loved or needed or wanted. When loss made its choice, it stepped in, did what it came to do and paid no heed to the devastation left in its wake.
That is why Alex had holed up in Breckenridge since Edward’s death. Why he stayed there after Ruth’s betrayal and her murder. Why he hadn’t allowed himself to become attached to Margaret. He didn’t think he could survive another loss.
Yet what choice did he have in the matter? As it appeared loss had come courting once more and his father may be the next on the list. How soon before it was someone else? How soon before the desolation left behind overtook him?
“Alex?”
“Yes?”
“I feel as if I lost you for a moment there.”
Henrietta’s voice drew him back from the edge and soothed nerves left raw by what he had just experienced with her, but the remnants remained within reach, ready to swoop down and overtake him once more. Did he dare go there again? But how could he not after what they had done? He had taken her innocence, proposed marriage, heedless of the ramifications, of the fears such responsibility would resurrect.
He kissed her sweet lips, tasted the promise of a different kind of future than the one he’d envisioned before returning to London. It was his for the taking; all he had to do was have the courage to grasp hold of it, to believe in the possibility of the happiness she offered. Could he do this? Did he possess that kind of bravery?
“You didn’t lose me.”
He moved off of her and pulled her into his arms, allowing her limbs to tangle with his and letting her warmth seep deep beneath his skin to chase away the chill creeping around his heart.
“Do you regret what we did?” she asked and he felt a hundred times a cad for the lie he was about to tell.
“No, my sweet. No.”
“Are you certain?” She lifted her head away from his chest and he dropped a quick kiss on her downturned mouth. All this time he thought he had his fear under control, but he’d been a fool. The dread of losing someone he loved had never really gone away. It had merely lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the most opportune time to show itself once more. To remind him of its power. But what choice did he have after what they had done but to forge ahead?
“I am certain. I just—” He stopped. Would he appear a coward admitting his fears?
“Just what?”
“I’m not sure I could stand to lose you.” There. The words were out and now floated between them like a harbinger. Should he have remained silent?
Hen lifted her head to look at him, her smile sweet and holding within it a certainty that eased his heart, if not his fears. “I am not going anywhere. I promise.”
He smiled, though her promise was not one she had true control over. But Alex had made his bed and he’d dragged her into it with him. Despite his fear, he would not leave her dangling out on a limb to pay for the sins he had committed. He would do right by her. He had no other choice. He must face this.
“I shall speak to your brother tomorrow and we will make arrangements for—”
“No, not tomorrow.”
His brows dipped. “Why ever not?”
“Let us wait a few more days until your father is feeling better. And I would like an opportunity to speak with Lord Walkerton. I shouldn’t wish him to hear the news from anyone but me. I owe him that much.”
“Very well then. But I should prefer not to wait too long. Just in case.” He said no more, unable to speak the words. To envision the babe that might have been created this night.
Between them, her hand shifted from his hip and moved to her stomach. He felt the motion made when her fingers crept along the scars that bled across her waist and interrupted the smooth skin of her belly, as if walking a pathway forged by the fire. A shadow crossed her expression, there and then gone until Alex was uncertain whether it had existed at all, or had been a subtle shifting of the moonlight pouring through the window. Did she worry what others might think if they had made a babe this eve? It would hardly be the first time in the history of Society where a special license was quickly procured and a babe arrived early.
“You should go,” Henrietta said, her sudden decree startling him from his reverie.
“Go?”
“You wouldn’t want to be discovered here before we have a chance to speak to everyone about our plans. I’d prefer to keep any scandal to a minimum. Likely, our engagement will not cause much of a ripple given you and James are such close friends.
It will make a certain kind of sense to most, I think. I would prefer to leave it at that and not give Society anything for the gossip gristmill. I tire of being talked about, don’t you?”
“Do they talk about me?”
“You are a future duke who has been living in seclusion. Of course they talk about you. Often in hushed whispers, their eyes wide with awe.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Are you mocking me?”
She laughed with a lightness he would not have expected from a young woman newly relieved of her innocence. Such trust she put in him to make this right, to keep her safe and maintain his promise of marriage. One would have thought her experience with Pengrin would have robbed her of this, but it hadn’t. Yet another testament to her resilience.
“Perhaps a little. Now go,” she said, giving him a small shove. He reluctantly crawled out of the bed and stood at the end, the cool air on his skin begging him to jump back beneath the covers.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat, unsure of how to broach such a delicate subject. She was only the second innocent he’d bedded and the first one outside the bounds of matrimony. “The sheets. They will…that is to say—”
“I shall tell them it is my time—”
“Right! Of course.” He waved his hand, not requiring any further particulars. “You’re certain then?”
“Go!” She pointed to the door, laughing and the magical sound was a balm upon his ragged nerves. There was much turmoil to come—a conversation with James that was not likely to go well. His father’s illness that must be dealt with. His sister.
Good lord, he hadn’t even thought of what his sister would do with the news that the woman she had been tormenting would now be elevated above her within the family.
Alex let his gaze rest upon Henrietta’s bare limbs, tangled about the sheet that covered her most intimate parts and created such a tantalizing picture the worry of future turmoil was quickly pushed aside. He would deal with Susan later.
