The Earl and His Virgin Countess

by Dominque Eastwick

  “Like velvet,” she murmured. “I hadn’t expected that.”

  Clenching his jaws, he managed, “What, dare I ask, did you expect?”

  “I expected something sharp that would cut my maidenhead.” She grinned up at him then faltered. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this. When you touched me, I enjoyed it very much. What am I doing wrong?”

  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, all the while delaying his release. Releasing a clenched fist, he caressed her cheek. “You are doing everything right. I am fighting my need to make love to you. In doing so, it may appear I am in pain.”

  “Oh.” Satisfied, she went back to what she had been doing.

  He, meanwhile, died a slow, excruciating death with every stroke, payment for every sin he had ever committed through his life coming due. Nerves nearly snapped, and the natural instinct to wrench up her skirts and dive into her nearly undid him. Instead, he held onto his baser instincts by the finest of threads. She wanted to explore his body, eager to see what the male anatomy looked like. And, if this allowed for an easier, less frightening wedding night, then it would be worth it. Or so he kept repeating to himself.

  Think of England.

  Not helping.

  Think of crops and rotations.

  Not that either.

  Think of—

  Her tongue touched the tip of his cock.

  Fucking hell!

  “What are you doing?” he croaked.

  “I wanted to taste you.” She licked her lips like the cat that got the cream.

  “Why?”

  She pouted, and he wanted to take that bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it. “Because you did something similar to me; it seemed only reasonable that I would do it to you.”

  “Your thought process might be the death of me.”

  “But it is done, is it not?”

  “Oh, it’s done.”

  “Good.”

  The joy in her voice, as well as the enthusiasm, forced him to change his tactics. He’d gone about things all wrong. If he wanted her to learn about him then showing her what pleased him made a hell of a lot more sense. Everything she did, he wanted more of. Closing his eyes, he fought the need to grab her hair and push his cock deep into her throat.

  Instead, he lifted his arms and gripped behind his neck. Intertwining his fingers, he held strong where he stood. She licked and sucked and explored the slit where his seed seeped out. Finally, she took him between her lips and deep into her mouth.

  Fireworks exploded behind his closed eyelids, and he threw his head back with a load groan. “Hell!”

  Only when his balls tightened did he step back, yanking his pants up. Looking at Miranda nearly completed his undoing.

  Beaming up at him, she said, “That was quite nice.”

  “Nice?” She’d nearly brought him to his knees, and she called it nice?

  “I would like to do that again.”

  “So would I.”

  “Honestly?” Her face lit up like an eighteen-candle candelabra.

  Leaning in, he kissed her. Words couldn’t express what he wanted to convey, and a sudden fear consumed him that those feelings might be akin to love.

  Chapter Six

  Miranda had ceased listening to her brother twenty minutes earlier. After dragging her out of her bed, he’d thrown her dressing gown at her and demanded she meet him in the library downstairs. Although her ankle might not have been as swollen as before, the ugly purple and blue bruises showed it hadn’t yet healed. She had hated to call the footman from his rest, but as he arrived dressed and by her bed within moments, it seemed a good guess all the servants were up.

  Daniel said nothing as they helped her into the room with the aid of two more footmen. Unlike her husband-to-be, who had easily lifted her weight, the poor footmen, being much smaller in stature, hadn’t even attempted to carry her, but offered her their shoulders. When she was finally settled, a maid placed a shawl over her lap for modesty and the servants all vacated the room. Leaving her the soul focus of her brother’s wrath.

  “How did you get here so fast?” she finally broke from her musings to ask. But once the words had slipped past her lips, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to know he would be arriving.

  His look told her he thought she might be addled. “Did you expect me to simply allow you to marry a man when you were contractually bound to another?”

  “You make me sound like a piece of chattel,” she mumbled, though not loud enough for anyone to hear. She wondered when her brother had become so pompous. They hadn’t been close, but she had rather liked him before this.

  “Do you love this new man?”

  Did she love him? She wasn’t sure. She had been so infatuated with being his countess and, like most girls in the village, she’d had a teenage crush on him. The only difference being she’d genuinely believed she would be his countess one day, while the others could only dream.

  “I supposed I might be or, at least, could be one day.”

  Could she love Andrew? If the man Andrew appeared to be turned out to be the man she’d spent the last two days with, falling in love with him would be little hardship. He appeared to treat those dependent on him with dignity. None of her tutors had spoken ill of him. Other ladies swooned when he walked into a room, or so Miranda had been informed. But, in truth, his assertion that, although he wanted to marry her, the decision was hers to make, proved the merit of the man.

  The waiting silence from her brother alerted her she had missed something important. He stood over her, hands on hips. “Well, what do you have to say?”

  She couldn’t very well admit she had not been paying attention without receiving another earful, so she improvised. “I didn’t think you actually cared what I had to say.”

  Where the hell was Sarah? She should have been there with her. Sarah hadn’t gone out that evening, and it had been her and Andrew’s crazy plan to bring her brother there anyway. Andrew and Sarah had established quite a friendship over dinner that evening. He had left briefly to freshen up and deal with a few things, but had returned shortly before afternoon tea. Neither Miranda or Andrew had been left alone again by her Aunt Sarah, which may have had something to do with the conversation Miranda started once Andrew left—wanting to learn all there was about sex. Sarah, never one to balk, explained a great deal more than Miranda had expected and nothing like her tutors had.

  “Enjoy yourself, gel. None of this lie there and let him take his pleasure nonsense. If you want something, you tell him, or, better yet, show him what you want. But, I have a feeling your Andrew will take great care to make sure you enjoy it, too.”

  From there, Miranda worked up the nerve to ask a great many things. She didn’t wish to be ignorant on her wedding night. Sarah brought books from her personal library to aid in the education of Miranda. Ensconced safely in her bedroom, she’d opened the first book only to slam it shut again. Though she had thought she was alone, she’d nevertheless checked to be sure that was still the case. Naughty and exciting were equal emotions flaring within her.

  The sounds of finger-snapping beside her ear drew her attention. “Miranda, would you listen to me, please? This is damned important, and your daydreaming is not helping the matter.”

  “As it happens, I was in the middle of actually dreaming when you dragged me from my bed, Daniel. That I am unable to focus lies on your shoulders.” So she lied. Thinking about doing some of the things in that book with Andrew had her unable to pay attention, but Daniel didn’t need to know that. “Besides, this can wait ’til morning.”

  “I will get your agreement to call it off whatever agreement you have with this new man, or you shall not sleep at all.”

  “Why are you so worried about this? The man in question has agreed to pay off any amount we would owe the earl.” Consider that for a moment, dear Brother.

  “We have a contract.”

  “Yes, you do,” the familiar, sensual voice of Andrew said. He stood
with his shoulder pressed against the door frame. How long has he been there? “Of course, it wouldn’t matter if the earl in question had no idea he was betrothed, now, would it?”

  Daniel’s eyes got so wide, Miranda feared they might pop from their sockets and roll across the floor. “Lord Windenshire.”

  Ignoring Daniel, Andrew picked up a pillow from one of the chairs, dragged a foot stool over, placed the pillow on top, then lifted her ankle to elevate it. “How is this feeling?”

  “It throbs.”

  “How in heavens did you get down here?” His concern warmed her.

  “Two footmen assisted me.”

  “You should have remained up in bed, resting.” He placed a kiss on her forehead.

  “What happened to your ankle, Miranda?” Daniel asked, if only just taking in the state of things.

  “She was involved in a carriage accident and lucky this is the only injury she sustained. I am surprised that you are only now getting around to asking about it.”

  No one but Aunt Sarah had ever stood up for her. Andrew gave her a wink before turning back to her idiot brother. “So, when were you planning on telling me about the contract, Daniel? Perhaps a better question would be, when did you realize that if you never let me in on the secret, the money would keep rolling in?”

  “Our father informed me shortly before he died that I needed to contact you when Miranda came of age to make sure you presented her to the Regent for her coming out. When I came to town to do that, your lawyers informed me your mother wished for you not to be told until such a time as you were ready to wed. Or when you reached twenty-one.”

  A chill ran down her spine as she watched Andrew clench a fist. “So you saw the golden opportunity and couldn’t pass it up.”

  “The estate needed a large and immediate influx of cash. Miranda had all the dresses she needed, yet I was unable to keep servants employed or the roof from rotting over my damned head,” the ever-indignant Daniel dared to announce, his chin held high. Miranda feared he might find a set of knuckles making contact with that very chin any moment.

  “I would have given you the money,” Miranda said in hope of easing some of the hostility.

  “As would I,” Andrew agreed.

  She observed his proud face, and her heart filled. He would have given her brother money, and she believed him as much as she knew the sun would rise in a few hours. She wanted to reach up and kiss him, tell him how much that meant to her, but knew the opportunity would come later.

  “How could I have been sure? And if you think I spent a penny of that money on myself, I didn’t. It went to crops and improvements. Father didn’t understand the first thing about money or running an estate, which is why everything needed attention.”

  Some of the tension left Andrew’s shoulders, enough she no longer feared he would punch Daniel. But, just in case, she took his hand in hers and urged him to sit next to her. That he did so showed the power she wielded. She needn’t fear he wouldn’t respect her wishes.

  “So this other suitor story was just a ruse to get me here?”

  “As it happens, Miranda and I met by chance last evening. She knew who I was, but for reasons we all know, I had no earthly clue who she was. That being rectified, I have every intention of marrying your sister. Not because of a stupid agreement on a piece paper between two old men but because I seem to see what no one else has; the genuine, amazing beauty of this woman, both inside and out.”

  Aunt Sarah cleared her throat.

  “Of course, Sarah knew her worth as well,” he added. “Which is why I hope she will spend a great deal of time with us. But this is what I want you to hear, Daniel; it is completely within Miranda’s right to reject my suit.”

  “She wouldn’t dare.” Daniel took a menacing step toward her.

  Standing, Andrew made a move toward her brother, but stopped at Miranda’s touch. “It is completely within her right to reject my suit.” He enunciated each word clearly. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Daniel stumbled into the nearest chair. “Yes, milord.”

  “If that should happen, which I hope it does not, Miranda will keep the monthly allowance my father left for her. She will owe me not one penny. You, on the other hand, will owe your sister every cent you took from her, because it was her money to use, not yours. If she decides to forgive the grievance you’ve committed, that it her choice, as it has nothing to do with me.”

  Sarah spoke then. “I believe my niece has quite a lot to think about. It’s late, Daniel, and I have a bed made up for you so you won’t have to awaken a household ill-prepared for your late appearance. When it’s a decent hour, I will have a footman take a message informing your staff that you are here.”

  Miranda bit her lip to prevent her saying something that would get her into more trouble with her brother, like yelling hurrah at her aunt’s comeuppance of her brother. He might have come in thinking he had the upper hand, but it had become quite evident he walked on thin ice.

  “Perhaps, since he awakened your household.” Andrew looked Daniel square in the eye, as if daring him to counter his commands, “A maid or two from his house can be sent over to assist in the packing for Miranda? And you, Sarah, of course.”

  Wondering if she had somehow missed the part of the conversation where anyone had announced they were traveling anywhere, Miranda braced herself and asked, “And where are we going?”

  “I talked with the Duke of Foxhaven this evening.” He looked at her in surprise, as if thinking she should know his every move. Then grinned at both her and her aunt. “He would be honored to have you both stay with him until his wedding at the ducal estates.”

  “We have invitations to the duke’s nuptials.” Sarah, rarely impressed with anything, actually appeared to fight the need to squeal in glee. Invitations to the year’s most-talked-about wedding was one thing. Being asked to stay at the ducal estates would be a true feather in her aunt’s turban.

  Andrew looked at Sarah as if she were daft. “But of course.” He turned back to Miranda “I thought from there, we will travel to Windenshire and you can start planning for the wedding, if that is what you choose. There are three modistes willing to start on your gown tomorrow. You have your choice of which one.”

  “So, in one breath, you have said I may still choose, yet there are three woman I must choose from to get my gown started tomorrow. Is it really still my choice?” Miranda rose what she hoped was a haughty eyebrow.

  “It still is, up until the moment we say I do.” He lowered his voice making the comment more intimate and just for her ears. She could only stare up at him unable to make any word form let alone pass her lips.

  “Daniel, you may stay in the room at the end of this hall. I am taking to my bed. Andrew, if you would be so kind as to make sure Miranda is comfortable and secure in her bed. I assume I will see everyone for breakfast. I will have the table set for four.” Sarah waved them off with a yawn.

  Andrew didn’t wait for Daniel to leave before lifting Miranda into his arms and asking her the direction to her room. He took the stairs with no effort, as though she weighed nothing. After helping her into bed, he hung her dressing gown on the hook by her changing screen, before proceeding to take off his overcoat. She had failed to notice earlier he hadn’t been wearing a vest or a jabot. For him to have run out of his residence without being immaculately dressed meant he had rushed to her side and let nothing delay him. Bare-chested, wearing only pants, he leaned over to blow out the single candle.

  She finally got her head and mouth to work together. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you are comfortable and secure. Just following Aunt Sarah’s orders.”

  “I don’t think she meant for you to sleep here.” Lifting the blanket to her chin, she knew the action was silly even as she did it, but, somehow, last night, when they had been in a strange bed in a strange room, it had been different than being in her bedroom under her aunt’s roof.

  “Oh, I am quite
certain she did. Besides, people will talk if they see me leaving your house now. They will think Sarah and I are meeting, and we can’t have that.”

  “And I suppose no one will have noticed you storming into the house.”

  “I didn’t storm.” He folded the covers down and arranged a pillow under her ankle, before starting to slip in beside her.

  “You sure about that?” How she wished he hadn’t blown out the candle so she could see his face.

  He paused, one leg in the bed. Then he laughed, climbing all the way in. “I might have stormed a little. I find I am quite protective where you are concerned.”

  Miranda turned on to her side, feeling warmed by his words, and smiled into the darkness. Andrew pressed against her, one hand coming to rest on her breast. She didn’t argue or complain, only took a deep breath and snuggled into him more. “You sure the duke doesn’t mind us intruding on his day?”

  “Nonsense. There will be hundreds there, and he offered a room. You will like his duchess.” Andrew’s voice started to fade off with a yawn. “Besides, being newly in love himself, he believes everyone should be.”

  “And are you? In love?” she whispered, uncertain if she wanted the answer.

  A long silence fell over the room, and she feared he might not answer. But, eventually, in a hushed voice, he said, “I believe I might be.”

  Chapter Seven

  Four weeks never passed so fast. The morning after Andrew confronted Daniel, the announcement appeared in the morning paper. Banns were read at the local parish near their homes the following Sunday. The footman sent to deliver the news to the parson stayed to gauge the reaction of the same girls who had taunted Miranda in town, and those who had believed the earl would never make good on his contract to marry Miranda had returned with news of their shock, and the delight of the townsfolk of the upcoming nuptials. Miranda had been overjoyed and somewhat ashamed that she cared what the other girls thought.