“Down there?”
“Right here.” Adding some pressure to her clit, he rubbed the sensitive nub until her eyesight blurred and she barely caught the moan that tried to escape. “Maybe here.”
“You can’t mean you want me to touch…well…inside?”
His gaze met hers, slightly glazed over and filled with a strange hunger. And, if she were the betting sort, she might wager her own were showing a mixture of confusion, shock and embarrassment.
“Why not? It’s your body. Who has more right to touch it than you?”
“I didn’t think anyone should be touching it. Well, maybe a doctor, if necessary, but he would never look. You look and touch, and I—”
“Do you dislike this?” He moved the digit in and out, each time, the waves of pleasure grew, making her weep.
She tried deny it felt good, but she lived by the rule of honestly, so she shook her head.
“Anything I do that you dislike, I need you to tell me. Do you understand? If it hurts, scares you, or if the sensations become too much, I can’t know what you are feeling if you don’t tell me. Do you understand?”
She nodded and figured what she didn’t understand would make more sense later. “What you were doing...is that normal for couples to do?”
“I can’t speak for other men, but I quite enjoy touching you, feeling your juices cover my skin, and hearing those lovely little meowing sounds you make like a cat that got the cream.”
“Would you wish me to touch you this way, too?”
“Not tonight, but, yes. I am sure I will live in torment until our wedding night, thinking of you running your hands over me—intimately.”
She mused at the oddity of them lying on this bed, his hand up her skirts and between her legs. Odd, but not wrong. And more than she’d imagined. Other than Aunt Maggie, everyone had led her to believe, when they were in bed together, the man would stick his member in her while she lay quietly and thought of other things. So far, she’d thought of nothing other than what he’d done to her.
“You are very sure we will suit?”
“Have I not convinced you yet?”
She couldn’t answer that, nor was she particularly certain he required one from her. As shocked as she had been at his boldness while touching her, his next move left her speechless.
“Look to the ceiling and try and focus.”
Managing to count to twenty-three, she thought herself quite improved in her ability to stay on task counting the pleats. That was, until Andrew pulled her knickers clear down to her ankles. He gently stripped them over her sore ankle.
“You are supposed to be concentrating on the ceiling.” Although his reprimand sounded stern, it hinted of laughter.
“But you removed my drawers.”
“Yes, I did, and, if that shocked you, what I plan next may send you into a fit of vapors. The ceiling, if you please.”
Uncertain didn’t begin to describe the feelings coursing through her right then…a sense of adventure, the forbidden, and, she figured, a sense of arousal. Leaning back, she looked at him again but he responded with a raise of a lordly eyebrow. So she was resigned to following his orders.
Until, that was, his tongue lapped between the folds of her most intimate place. She bolted upright and sputtered, unable to utter a single coherent word.
“Be mindful of your ankle.”
“My ankle?”
“Yes, this dainty thing connected to an alluring-as-hell leg.”
Alluring leg? “You just licked me—down there—and all you can worry about is my blessed ankle?”
“I plan to do it again, too.”
“But why would you want to? People don’t do that, do they? That can’t be permitted; it’s not right. You can’t possible enjoy…that.”
He appeared quite put out, lying between her legs, resting his chin on his fist. “Which of those questions would you like me to answer first?” Not waiting for her to respond, he said, “I need for you to listen because this is very important. When we are married, we can do anything we want in our bed. Providing it’s together and, above all, consensual. Do you understand?”
She nodded because what should she to say to that? He seemed quite certain it was permissible, and, as she assumed he had more experience in such matters, she couldn’t argue without facts. She would have to ask Aunt Sarah in the morning. But, somehow, asking her aunt seemed a little too wicked, even for Sarah.
“Next, although I can’t speak for others, as I don’t discuss my sexual appetite, I am certain that the men of my acquaintance do this, if not regularly, on occasion.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Not the marquis or the duke. Not men of such….”
“Yes, them, especially them. Now, your last two questions can be answered together. I very much would like to do this to you. I want to hear you moan with pleasure, taste your arousal, and feel your orgasm. If you would only lie back again and let me have my wicked way with you the only way I can tonight.”
“But….”
“Trust me, when I am done with you, there will be no doubt how well we will suit.”
Though still uncertain, she did as she was told and kept her eyes open. His hands wrapped under her thighs and eased them apart. Uncertain what to do, she intertwined her fingers on her tummy and squeezed.
The first breath of air touched her like the hint of a summer breeze, warm and hinting at rain to come. He kissed her inner thigh, and it took everything she possessed not to jump. The tiny kisses he’d made on her shoulder and neck, that she had so loved earlier, trailed to her apex. He gripped her legs and blew again. Her legs shook, whether from her desire or expectation, or perhaps fear of the unknown, she was unsure.
As he ran his tongue along the sensitive nub he had rubbed earlier, the initial shock wore off and warmth filled her. The shaking increased, but now she understood, and she wanted more. She was unable to control her moan, and he chuckled, a low male, satisfied laugh that vibrated against her and took her breath away. He circled and added pressure with his tongue. When he dove inside her, she lifted her hips, wanting him deeper within her. Her fingers wrapped into his soft hair, pressing him against her, demanding more, desperate for him to make good on his promise.
“God, yes,” he murmured, as if her response spurred him on. Testing it, she repeated the process and was rewarded with a moan from him.
His ministrations increased until stars formed before her eyes. The muscles deep in her abdomen tightened, tension built within her, and she tried to pull away, but placing a hand on her belly, he held her still. Suddenly weightless, she would have floated to the ceiling if not for the firm hold he had on her, or perhaps the death grip she had on the bed. Then her limbs seized, her eyelids lowered, and she began to tremble. Only as the tremors eased and she returned to a more natural state did he pull away. He stroked her thighs, helping to calm her before easing her dress down her legs.
When she opened her eyes, he lay beside her, staring at her with an odd light in his eyes. “So, will we suit?”
Unable to face him, she draped an arm over her face and said, “Holy hell, we will suit.”
Chapter Five
Andrew stood in the entry hall of Miranda’s aunt’s townhome. Though it was not in the fashionable part of London, no one would think less of the living quarters where she resided. Yet, to say her Aunt Sarah had been put out by his appearance would have been an understatement. He, of course, still needed to put together who had knowledge about the betrothal agreement. He damned well needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. Heads would be rolling.
Not that it mattered. The evening before had proven to both he and Miranda that marriage would be the most prudent course of action.
For the first time in his life, he understood chivalry. He might have had a full-blown cockstand for much of the night, but he had done nothing about it. As his future countess slept the sleep of the sated, he’d laid next to her, watching an
d marveling at the turn his life had taken in a few short hours. He had instructed that his carriage, empty at the time, sit in front of her house early in the morning, then be taken away shortly afterward—a ruse to make any early bird believe he had simply come calling and taken Miranda for a ride, once a believable amount of time had passed.
He and Miranda had then arrived at her home at a decent hour that would make any neighbors believe she had left for a morning stroll with a suitor. Returning to her steps in the arms of her betrothed might have raised an eyebrow, or, in the case of Sarah, two, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no way she could maneuver the steps on her own.
Left to cool his heels in the front hall since arriving over a half hour earlier, he wondered how long Sarah would allow her spite to overrule her good breeding, and how much his virginal lady had told her.
“Madame will see you now,” the liveried footman announced, waving toward the stairs and up to the first floor of the house. “Second room on the right.”
“Thank you.” Andrew climbed the dark, wood-paneled staircase to the sitting room. Tapping lightly, he waited only a second before opening the door.
Sarah glared, but, too well-bred to do more than that, she curtsied prettily before bowing her head. “Milord.”
“Madame.” He nodded his head before turning his attention to Miranda, currently ensconced on a chaise lounge in the corner by the window, with her elevated ankle under a blanket. He winked, reveling in the blush that quickly covered her cheeks. “Miranda.”
“Andrew,” she whispered, a secretive smile forming on her lips.
“Milord, please be seated.” Sarah indicated the chair next to Miranda. “I have ordered some tea.”
“Thank you, tea is much appreciated.” Feeling he had given her the respect due, he turned his attention to Miranda. “How is your ankle, my dear?”
“Much better, milor…Andrew. Thank you for inquiring.”
Clearing her throat, Sarah commanded his attention. Once she had grown past her dislike of him, he thought they may become great friends. He liked her already. “My niece filled me in on a few items. She tells me though you tended to her injury all evening, you didn’t take her maidenhead.”
“Sarah!” Miranda sat straight, disrupting the pillows around her on the chaise.
Andrew raised his hand to calm her, picking up one frilly lace pillow, which had fallen to the floor. As she was literally surrounded by pillows he had no idea where to place it and finally gave up, placing it on the window seat behind him. “She is correct. I didn’t take advantage of the situation,” he replied. Even though I wanted to.
Sarah nodded with approval. “She also informs me you were not aware of the betrothal agreement.”
“I was not.”
She leveled her keen brown gaze on him. “How can this be so?”
“I wish I knew, exactly—”
Sarah interrupted, thumping the carpeted floor with the cane he hadn’t been aware she held. He doubted she needed the thing for the purpose of walking, but more for effect. “This is not to be taken lightly. You must investigate how this lack of knowledge happened.”
“I have already put my solicitors on it, but would request your help in the matter. It would appear Miranda’s brother is well aware of the agreement and has, over the last few years, increased the amount of the allowance required to maintain Miranda’s standard of living.”
“Bollocks! The amount given to me to pay her bills has decreased.”
“I assumed as much,” Andrew replied drily. Another nail in the already nearly sealed coffin against Miranda’s brother. Exhaling forcefully, he rubbed the tension from between his eyes. Lack of sleep, anger, and unsated sexual needs did not a clear mind make. “What can I do to help you?”
“I ask you to call for her brother. I doubt if I do so he will come, but if you were to say his poor sister has decided to marry someone else….”
Andrew rose and strode to the window behind him, staring out at the busy street below before turning back to look at Sarah.
“That might get him here rather quickly.”
“You intend to marry my niece?”
His eyes never wavered from hers. “I am most earnest.”
“And you, Miranda…you still wish to become his countess?”
“More than anything in the world.”
Sarah nodded, walked to the pull cord, without the use of the cane, and pulled once for a servant. “Very well. I want nothing more than to see Miranda happy, and, somehow, you have convinced her you are the man to do it. And the gentleman I see standing before me does indeed seem to be up for the job.”
She wrote out a letter then sanded and sealed it before giving it to the footman. “See this placed in Daniel’s hands by nightfall. You can return with him on the morrow, though I suspect he will be leaving on horseback first thing in the morning.”
Miranda shifted on the chaise. “Your plans, milord?”
“I have sent one of my men to the church at Windenshire. He has a letter for the chaplain with directions to begin the reading of the banns on Sunday. As today is Thursday, there is no reason to believe Daniel will be there to hear them.”
“I can’t believe Daniel would steal from you,” she said in a small, broken voice. Her fingers fidgeted with the lace on one of the pillows.
“We haven’t discovered where the money went. If he has used it to make much-needed repairs, or to better the lives of your servants, I have no reason to care that he used the resources. If they were for more selfish reasons, I will be less able to look away.” Andrew crouched before her and grasped her hands in his. “He has taken a great deal of money from you. Not me. And he has created a situation where I might unwittingly have married another.”
“But he is my brother.”
“That is the only reason I am not on my way up there to smash his face with great force.” Unable to stand the sadness on her face, Andrew leaned forward and kissed her temple. “I promise to take into account your love for your sibling, no matter how misplaced it might be.”
“Promise?” Her misty eyes met Andrew’s.
“Promise. I just don’t have to like him.”
“Fair enough.”
The smile, though tentative, told him she trusted him to take care of the situation with care. Her happiness had suddenly became very much intertwined with his. Wolfe had told him when he’d met his fiancée, Wolfe had said almost immediately no other woman would compare. Yet, for Andrew and Miranda, it hadn’t been so simple. He had nearly walked out a couple of times, Miranda’s intense hostility and hate toward him palpable. After the incident in the maze, he never would have given her a second chance for a 1Night Stand liaison, had he known it was her. But once he had known the reason behind her feelings, he’d understood completely. She’d had years to build hostility and discontent with him, while he’d had less than twenty-four hours to reconcile his conflicted feelings of a beautiful masked lady with amazing boxing abilities. But it bothered him he could have lost her without knowing she had been his to lose.
The door clicked softly and Sarah left them alone. Andrew gazed into Miranda’s eyes, only to have her throw herself at him and kiss him. Although taken by surprise, he caught her easily and, ensuring the care of her ankle, he pulled her tight.
His little virgin vixen had a hidden fire he planned to stoke at every opportunity. Maneuvering to sit on the chaise beside her, he allowed her the lead on the kiss until her hand trailed down his back, and over his hips to his thighs.
Pulling away, he stayed her touch. “I can’t take much more.”
“I simply want to touch you the way you have touched me.”
“And I promise you may touch me anywhere your heart desires, once we are wed.”
“Is a special license an option?” she asked, biting her plump lower lip, leaving him breathing hard. Damn, if she brought him low already, as a virgin with no experience, what would she do when he awakened her sexual side to its full po
tential?
He stood, praying desperately for strength. “You said in the carriage just this morning that, should we marry, you wanted it to take place in the church on my lands, before your friends and those who have been less than kind to you through the years. Though I personally would have told them to take a jump in the nearest river.”
“Yes, but they never believed I was promised to you. I want them to see us wed so they—”
“Can eat crow? That I do understand.”
“Is that petty?”
“I think it’s human nature.”
She reached forward and rested a warm palm on his upper thigh. “Four weeks seems a very long time.”
“Right now, it seems like an eternity,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Let me touch you. It’s terribly unfair that I feel so unprepared for our wedding night. You are so much more experienced in giving pleasure, as you demonstrating amply well last night. I know next to nothing.”
“That is the way it’s supposed to be for well-bred ladies.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Her fingers worked closer to the growing bulge in his pants. Images of her wrapping the, dainty digits around his hard cock dropped the last bit of argument he had formed. He gripped her wrist, and a whimper of protest escaped her lips. She evidently believed he would prevent her exploration. But he placed her hand over the prominent bulge and she gasped.
“It’s so—hard.” She traced the outline of it through his britches. “Is it always like this?”
“Around you, yes.”
“What about when you aren’t around me?”
Could he remember that time less than twenty-four hours ago? “Then it is soft and slightly smaller.”
“It grows then?”
“For you, yes.”
“Take it out so I can see it.”
“It is called a cock, and, no, your aunt might be back any moment.”
Apparently not listening to a word he’d said, she worked the buttons of his pants. “She shan’t come in, that I can promise.”
He went to argue, but she slipped a hand inside and wrapped it around him. All coherency fled. The soft palm added just enough friction and, when she squeezed, small beads of sweat broke over his forehead. His balls tightened with the need for release. Finally, he had to lock his knees to prevent them from knocking.
The Earl and His Virgin Countess Page 6
