Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  Heavens, what was she doing?

  She hesitated, but David did not. He yanked open the door and pulled her in after him, up the narrow stairs, down the corridor to his room. She slipped inside and he followed her, closing the door and locking it securely behind him.

  Thank God. She released her breath in a sigh of relief. She was finally—

  Her eyes found the bed, and her heart started thudding in her chest again.

  “Don’t be nervous, Grace.” David’s fingers found the clasp on her cloak and opened it.

  “I’m n-not n-nervous.” She stepped away as soon as her cloak came off in his hands. “Well, m-maybe I am.”

  She looked horrible. She should have taken the time to put on her corset. What had she been thinking? Now her overlarge breasts were hanging and jiggling in a most distressing way. And her hair had long fallen out of its pins.

  “I don’t have a nightgown.”

  David laughed!

  “Grace, love, a nightgown would be very much in the way.”

  “It would?”

  He nodded.

  She thought about that. Of course, she knew a bed was involved in marital relations, and she didn’t usually climb into bed with her dress and shift on, but there was no reason why she couldn’t. In this case, with inn sheets involved, perhaps it was just as well. She would…

  David was unfastening her dress.

  “What are you doing?”

  His lips curved in a slow smile and his eyes were positively hot. “I’m getting you completely, utterly, wonderfully naked.”

  “Eek!” She wriggled free. “Surely that is not a good idea.”

  He followed her retreat across the room. “On the contrary, it is a splendid idea. A brilliant idea.” He smiled again. “An idea I’ve thought about and dreamt about since I first saw you enter Alvord’s ballroom.”

  “You’re jesting.” Oh, dear. His smile…she was throbbing again in that very embarrassing place. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop looking at me that way. It makes my stomach feel all fluttery.”

  “Really?” He looked at her stomach—

  She covered it with her hands. Thank God she still had her dress on. “Yes, really.”

  “You know, I think that is probably a good thing.” He’d stopped trying to touch her, but now his fingers were working on his own clothes. He flung his greatcoat and coat in a corner and started on his waistcoat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve decided perhaps you are shy because I am fully clothed, so I’m rectifying that situation.”

  “Oh.”

  The waistcoat and cravat went flying. Then he loosened the neck of his shirt and grabbed its hem.

  “Ah, do you think…I mean…um, well…are you sure that is wise?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Wait a moment.” He lifted his arms, pulling the shirt up and over his head. Then it, too, flew off to the side.

  Oh. Her mouth went suddenly dry. Her heart felt as if it had stopped, but the lower place was throbbing wildly enough for two hearts. She grabbed a chair back. Her knees were threatening to give out.

  He was beautiful. His arms curved with muscle, his shoulders were huge—amazing they had fit in his coat. His broad chest was covered with golden hair. Was it as soft as it looked?

  “Like what you see?”

  “Hmm.”

  Suddenly he was close enough for her to touch. She put her hand on his chest. Yes, the hair was soft, but his body was hard, like warm marble.

  “Then let me see, too.” He reached for her dress.

  “No.” She snatched her hand—regretfully—back to hold onto her bodice. “You don’t want to see. I’m much too large.”

  David’s gaze narrowed, becoming hotter. “You cannot be too large.”

  She shook her head. What did men know? “Oh, yes. I am…huge. Not ladylike at all.”

  She watched him swallow. His voice sounded strained.

  “Grace, listen to me. I like large. I love huge.” He laughed, an oddly shaky sound.

  “But ladies are supposed to be small and delicate.”

  He rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Look at me. Do I look small and delicate?”

  She looked at him. He was magnificent…and very, very large from the top of his head to his broad shoulders and chest, his flat, muscular stomach, his…

  She blushed. There was a very significant bulge under the fall of his breeches. “N-no. You are not s-small.”

  “Of course not. And I don’t want a small woman. I would crush her. I need—I want—a large woman. You, Grace. I want you.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please don’t hide from me. I want to see—I’m dying to see—every glorious inch of you.” His hands moved, slipping her dress off her shoulders. “Please? Please let me see. Let me touch.” His hands moved lower. “Let me taste.”

  How could she say no? Her body ached for him. She wanted him as much, or more, than he wanted her. It was a madness, but one she felt powerless to cure.

  Or perhaps he was her cure.

  “Yes,” she whispered as her dress whispered over her breasts and down to her waist. She heard David suck in his breath; she felt her nipples peak, pushing against the thin covering of her shift.

  And then her shift slipped down to her waist as well.

  “God, Grace, you are so beautiful.”

  “No, I…ah.”

  His hands were on her breasts now, stroking their sides. His fingertip traced a circle around one nipple. He was…looking at her.

  She should have been mortified. She was mortified, but she was also…excited. Her breasts felt so sensitive.

  And then his thumb flicked over the hard nub of her nipple.

  “Eek!”

  “Do you like that?” David murmured.

  “Y-yes.” It felt wonderful.

  His mouth moved to cover her nipple and suck. Ah! She felt the pull all the way to the achy, wet, empty place between her legs. It was beyond wonderful. And then his hands brushed her waist, and her dress and shift slithered the rest of the way to the ground.

  She was completely naked and shockingly happy to be so. She felt so alive and…powerful. David was staring at her with an almost worshipful expression.

  He pulled her against his body. His lips teased her neck, her ear. His chest, with its lovely soft hair, felt splendid against her breasts—but his breeches were too rough on her other tender flesh. She pushed away from him so she could solve that problem. She reached for the buttons on his fall.

  “Huh?” David raised his head. Grace’s breasts were truly the most beautiful, most glorious breasts he had ever seen, and the taste and scent of her skin were beyond intoxicating, but the sensation of her fingers brushing the front of his breeches made even those delights fade. He was going to explode—hopefully not literally—with happiness.

  “You have too many clothes on.” Grace laughed. She felt so free—free to please herself for the first time—well, and to please David, too, she hoped. His love had given her this heady, wonderful, overwhelming feeling. She could be angry or happy; she could cry or laugh; she could be serious or silly—he would still love her, and she would still love him.

  “If I am completely naked, you should be, also.” She worked loose the first button. She was thankful, too. She had barely escaped disaster—and marrying poor John would definitely have been a disaster. She would have locked herself—locked them all—forever in the dark prison of duty.

  If she’d wed John, she would never have known this heat, this life that was surging through her. She hadn’t known it existed when she’d defied Papa and gone with Aunt Kate to London. Its first whisper had teased her when she’d seen David in the Duke of Alvord’s ballroom, and it had grown in her with each kiss, each touch, each word exchanged. It was lust and it was love, and she was now finally—finally!—going to discover its depth and breadth. She laughed and stroked David’s growing bulge through the
cloth of his fall.

  David bit his lip. Ah. Grace shy was adorable, but Grace bold was incredibly erotic. She was killing him—in the best possible way—as she worked on opening his breeches. He felt each brush of her fingers on his cock, yes—that was wonderful—but in his heart also. Seeing her beautiful, red-gold hair cascading over her creamy, lush breasts with their delicately tinted nipples, inhaling the sweet scent of her heat and desire…well, he’d almost wager his cock would tear his buttons free by itself if Grace didn’t manage to slip them from their holes.

  But she did. Finally she opened the last button and his fall fell away. He’d dispensed with drawers this morning, not knowing at the time what an inspired decision that was, so his heated flesh sprang naked into the cool air of the room and Grace’s gentle touch.

  “Oh, my.” Grace stared at the prize in her hands. So this was the male member. She ran her finger carefully from its root to its tip. It jumped…with delight? David sucked in his breath sharply. She glanced up at him. His face looked strained, but in a good way.

  His voice sounded strained, too. “You can”—he swallowed—“touch…me…all you want, love. You won’t hurt me.”

  “No?” She wrapped her hand around him. He was large and warm, soft and hard. Quite different from her.

  “No.” He was almost panting. “N-not at all.”

  “I see.” She grinned and moved her hand up his length. He groaned. Her fingers flew away as if burned. She frowned at him. “You said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “And you didn’t.” He moistened his lips. A bead of sweat slid down his face. He seemed to be having difficulty forming sentences. “That was a groan of pleasure.”

  “A groan of pleasure?” She looked extremely skeptical. And, God, she wrapped her lovely fingers around him again. Some day he would love to play this game—let her take the lead entirely—but not today. Today he needed to get to the…point before he collapsed or spent himself ignobly in her hand.

  “Indeed. Here, I will make you groan, too.”

  She snorted. “No, you won’t.”

  Zounds, he loved her. He would never have guessed this kind of love existed. He’d made love to enough females—but he now realized it had never been love he’d been making.

  He grinned. “Would you care to wager on it?”

  “Well…” Grace hesitated—and then grinned back at him in a delightfully shy, mischievous fashion. “Yes. What shall be the stakes?”

  “Hmm. If I make you groan, you will do one thing in bed that I ask you to do.”

  She frowned. “What kind of thing?”

  “Something you will enjoy, I promise.”

  She laughed. “All right. And if I win?”

  “Well, I’m not sure you’ll have won if you don’t groan—and I shall be very disappointed with myself—but if you don’t, I will do one thing you ask me to do—in bed.”

  She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Very well, I accept your terms.” She held out her hand to seal the agreement.

  He clasped it and pulled her against him. Wonderful—but his breeches were still in the way. He wriggled out of them and picked Grace up.

  “Oh! Be careful. I’m too heavy.”

  “No, you aren’t.” He lifted her higher, so his mouth could reach one of her nipples. “You don’t seem at all heavy to me.” He flicked her nipple with his tongue and she squeaked.

  “I should have bet I could make you squeak.” He carried her over to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress, making her squeak again. “But that would have been too easy.”

  He joined her. The mattress must still be lumpy, but he didn’t feel it now. Grace wasn’t complaining either. She was spread out on her back, looking trustingly up at him.

  God, he felt such love. He wanted to make Grace groan, yes, but he also wanted to make her laugh, keep her safe, give her children, entwine his life with hers year after year after year until they were truly inseparable.

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her mouth—quite thoroughly. He explored her neck, her breasts, her belly, and her lovely, soft thighs. He—

  She pressed her legs together before he reached his goal.

  “What are you doing?” She sounded quite alarmed.

  He looked up at her. “Kissing you. Isn’t that obvious?”

  She struggled onto her elbows. “I-I am certain what you are doing is inappropriate.”

  “Indeed?” He brushed his lips over the reddish curls at his end of her lovely body. “In which book of manners did you find a list of appropriate forms of marital kissing? I’ve not seen that tome.”

  She flushed—all of her flushed. It was a truly delightful display. “I have not read it in a book, of course.”

  “No? So which patroness of Almack’s made this pronouncement?”

  “Don’t be absurd. The patronesses don’t discuss such things.”

  “They’ve ruled on the appropriateness of dances. And, now that I think on it, they have approved the waltz, so I believe they would definitely find this form of kissing unexceptional.”

  “David, you are being absurd.”

  “Not at all.” He stroked her thighs; she sucked in her breath and opened them for him. “But I’m not certain they would approve of this type of kissing. You must ask them when next we are in Town.”

  “What are you—eek!”

  She closed her knees again in shock as he flicked his tongue over the hard little nub hidden in her curls. How delightful—she’d trapped him exactly where he wished to be. He licked her again.

  “Oh! Oh!” Her hands gripped his head, her fingers weaving through his hair. “D-David.”

  “I think that was more of a wail than a groan.”

  “What?”

  “I must make you groan, remember?”

  “What are you—oh!”

  He smiled as his tongue slid over and around her. He breathed in her musky scent, tasting her deeply. Her hips bucked and shifted. She made lovely little sounds—definitely squeaks and gasps and moans…but did she groan?

  No matter. He was about to groan. He was so hard, and she was so wet and ready. It was time, but first…

  He felt the tension in her body build, heard her breath catch…and then he touched his tongue delicately once more to her hard little pleasure point. She made an odd sound—a soft scream—and sat up. Then she groaned—definitely a groan—and fell back onto the mattress.

  He followed her, slipping into her body, thrusting through her barrier as quickly, as gently as he could, and holding, surrounded by her wet heat. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes.” She sounded very annoyed.

  “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “It had better not.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. He wanted to give her time to adjust, but his body was clamoring for release.

  “The first part was lovely, though.” Her hands slid down his sweat-slicked back to his buttocks.

  Her touch was exquisite. And her body under his…heaven. So soft and hot and wet. He couldn’t wait another instant. He moved as cautiously as he was able.

  “Is…is that all right?”

  “Mmm.” She gripped his arse harder, pulled him toward her, and wiggled her hips.

  “Ah.” It was too much. He thrust again.

  Gentle. Careful. Not too hard.

  He was fighting a losing battle. At least he was going to be fast—not usually a good thing, but with this being Grace’s first time, probably a blessing.

  Blessing or curse, it was the way it was going to be.

  He managed to hold onto a thin thread of control until the final glide through her tight heat. He stopped deep inside her, suspended in anticipation, and then his seed leapt into her welcoming body.

  He collapsed as carefully as he could onto her. He felt her arms go round him, hugging him close.

  Grace closed her eyes. It had all been so overwhelming. She
ran her hands up his back and breathed as deeply as she could. Her legs cradled his hips. She was surrounded by his heat and scent. It was wonderful.

  She felt very, very married.

  “I’m too heavy for you,” he murmured by her ear. He moved off and out of her.

  She shivered. Without his body covering hers, she was chilled—but not for long. David pulled the covers up and gathered her close. She nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.

  The place between her legs was sore and wet—and empty now. Had she really felt…what she’d felt?

  “Are you all right, Grace?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She smoothed her fingers over the hair on his stomach. Words were beyond her abilities at the moment.

  David ran his hand up and down her side. “Where were you going to take the stagecoach if I hadn’t found you?”

  “London.” She licked his skin. Mmm. Salty. “To Aunt Kate.” She pressed herself closer. She would like to do what they’d just done again.

  “I doubt she’s there. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but when you were packing and leaving with your father, my uncle and your aunt were…having a frank and thorough discussion.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like the frank and thorough discussion we just had.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Kate had done…this? Surely she was too old.

  “Alex left Motton’s estate shortly before I did to procure a special license. He and your aunt are probably married and on their honeymoon now.”

  “Aunt Kate didn’t wait for me?” She should feel offended—would feel offended when she could feel anything beyond this overwhelming languor.

  “Well, they were in a bit of a hurry. Your aunt is carrying Alex’s child.”

  That news broke through her lassitude. She sat up.

  “What?!”

  “Your aunt is going to be a mother.” He cupped her breast, stroked it. “And my uncle is going to be a father.”

  “Oh.” David’s touch felt so good; it was completely distracting. She should think about her aunt, but later. Now desire curled low in her stomach; the sore spot between her legs started to throb. Could they do what they’d just done again?

  Another thought managed to drift through her heated consciousness.