Eve couldn’t find it in herself to cry. He had practically made love to her while their families waited, then told her he had no intention of living the life of a saint.
She didn’t bother removing her gown, but crawled to the head of the bed and curled up on top of the blanket. What would the marquess and marchioness of Rushton think of their son’s wife staying at Ravenhall?
*****
Erroll stared down at his wife, half aroused at the sight of her curled up on her side, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. The fire had dimmed and he’d tossed more logs into the hearth. The room would soon grow warm, but she might have already taken a chill. He knew just how to remedy that. By the time Erroll undressed and slipped beneath the blanket beside her he’d developed a cockstand that wasn’t going to be put off for long. He turned on his side and propped his head on an elbow, then traced her cheek with a finger. She drew in a deep breath that lifted her breasts. His eyes riveted onto the slow fall of the full mounds.
She abruptly bolted upright. “My lord! What are you doing here?”
He rolled onto his back and jammed his hands behind his head. “Visiting my wife.”
“You choose tonight to notice that I am your wife?”
“I noticed the instant my father announced we were man and wife, and have thought of nothing else since. The room is chilly, love. Come under the covers with me.”
“I cannot go to bed in my gown.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said.
Her cheeks reddened. “Really, sir, why did you pick tonight to avail yourself of your husbandly rights?”
“Because I have had enough of the torture.”
“Don’t you think that is a bit dramatic?”
He didn’t—and his cock was agreeing in its most demanding tone—and he said so. “Will you come to bed, Eve?”
She hesitated, then Erroll repressed a smile when she crawled beneath the covers in her gown. He slid an arm beneath her and tugged her against him. He felt the tension in her body and pulled her arm across his chest, then wrapped his arms around her. Her rose-scented shampoo tickled his senses.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” he asked.
It seemed she hesitated for the barest of instants, then said, “Yes, I like your family,” and he decided he’d misread her.
“So do I,” he said.
“Then you are very lucky.”
“You don’t like your family?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
The warmth of her flattened hand on his chest began to distract him and he wondered what it would be like if she slid the hand lower.
“You were very busy the duration of the evening,” she said.
“That is a hazard when my mother throws a party. She is a stickler that her sons help ensure the guests are entertained.” Erroll began drawing lazy circles on her arm with his fingers. He felt her shiver and his cock jerked.
“So your mother keeps you busy during her parties?” Eve asked.
“I haven’t seen many of the guests since I left for the navy.”
“I imagine they missed you.”
He shrugged. “They seemed pleased to see me, though I imagine they were much more interested in getting a look at the woman I married.”
“The woman you were forced to marry.”
“There is no doubt the circumstances of our marriage intrigues them.”
“Of course.”
Erroll detected something in her voice. “Did someone say anything out of the way, Eve?”
“Oh no. Not a single guest was rude.”
“No snide remarks like those you heard from Ladies Quincy and Greenwood?”
She shoved up onto her elbow. “How do you know about that?”
“Gossip travels quickly.”
Something flickered in her eyes, and Erroll realized that she must have made the connection between him and her encounter with Paisley at the party in Manchester. “Lord Paisley and I attended university together,” he said.
She groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “It seems you have eyes everywhere, my lord.”
Erroll pulled her across his chest and settled the blanket back over them. This time, she relaxed against him without reserve. He covered her hand with his and began sliding her hand downward.
She abruptly stiffened. “Sir—”
“Trust me,” he said, and gently urged her hand down.
When her hand touched his thickened cock, she jerked—so did his cock—but she didn’t resist and Erroll wrapped her fingers around him.
“Oh my,” she said in a breathless voice. “You are rather large.”
Erroll gave a strangled laugh and feared he would come that instant. He gritted his teeth against the compelling need and closed his hand tight around hers as he thrust. She squeezed and he hissed a breath.
“Careful, madam. I am likely to forget myself.”
“Idle threats,” she said.
“I never make idle threats.”
She squeezed again and he groaned.
“You are, in fact, in great peril.” Or was it he who was in danger? Danger of losing his heart…and perhaps his soul?
He pushed her back onto the mattress and brushed his lips against hers, then traced her mouth with his tongue. She opened on a sigh that made him feel as if she’d been waiting for him all her life. He reveled for a long moment in the taste of her, then broke the kiss and rose onto his knees. He pulled her skirt up to the creamy flesh of her thigh, then tugged it over her hip to her belly. She started to cross her legs, but he grasped her thighs.
“No, love. It’s all right. Let me look.”
He drank in the sight of the dark curls between her legs…then swallowed. The curls already glistened with desire. He flattened his palms on her belly and shimmied the dress upward. She lifted her buttocks to free the fabric, then raised her hands above her head as he tugged the dress over her breasts and off her arms.
He’d never seen breasts so beautiful, full, creamy, and tipped with an areole so rosy it made a man want to weep. “You are beautiful,” he murmured.
“Pretty words, my lord?”
“They aren’t pretty words when they are true.”
She shivered. “I am liable to catch my cold.”
“As long as I am in your bed, you will never want for warmth.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, and he recalled her fear that he would abandoned his wife in favor of other women. That assessment hadn’t been completely wrong. Erroll understood discretion, but hadn’t planned on giving up other women entirely. But staring down at her now, he couldn’t recall the face of even one of the women he had planned to one day bed. He bent and flicked his tongue against the peak of one perfect bud.
Erroll ringed the nipple with his tongue, and her breasts lifted with the intake of a slow breath. He felt himself further harden with surprising intensity, and lifted his mouth from her breast, then lowered himself onto her. First the rigid peaks of her nipples tickled his chest, then followed the warmth of her flat stomach against his belly. Erroll thought he would lose his mind when his cock lay nestled within her moist curls.
He kissed her slow, deep, and with a restraint that had never been tested to such limits. She sighed, her body relaxed beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and shock reverberated from her fingertips to his erection. He allowed himself one slow thrust of his member against her mound. One only, he warned, for two would send him over the edge. Her breath caught.
Erroll shifted and whispered in her hear. “You like that, love?” He’d allowed only one thrust, but if she liked it…he thrust again, and she drew in another breath. “Tell me you like that,” he urged.
“I like that.”
Her voice was rough with desire.
“Then I will oblige,” he said. And he would, even if it killed him.
He slipped a knee between her legs and urged them apart. For an instant she tensed, then allowed him to settle between he
r thighs. Erroll lifted his hips and skimmed the outer edged of her folds.
“Oh my,” she said on a stuttered breath.
Erroll reached down and slid a finger into—God, he wouldn’t last long—her wet heat and, with thumb and forefinger, separated the flesh and fitted his cock between her folds. He removed his hand and the swollen flesh molded around the sides of his erection. Her eyes widened and he pushed his cock through the dewy heat and along her sex until his bullocks contacted the back of her arse.
“Holy God,” she cried, and raw lust surged through his groin.
He drew back and repeated the thrust, gritting his teeth against the compulsion to climax. Her thighs trembled against his hips, and he hardened his resolve. Erroll drew back and dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. She grasped his shoulders, but he kept going, dropping kisses, a swipe of his tongue to each nipple, and nips to the underside of her breasts. He continued down and she suddenly seemed to realize he was doing something unexpected.
“Sir—”
Erroll sucked her flat belly. She gave a shriek and twisted. He shoved his hands beneath her buttocks and held her still while he edged farther down.
“Good God, what are you—”
Erroll pressed his mouth against the curls that covered her sex.
She yanked her knees up—which suited him wonderfully—and he held tight and thrust his tongue between her swollen folds to the engorged nub.
Eve stiffened in shock. “Ho-ly God.” She sucked in a breath.
He flicked his tongue against the nub with quick jabs. She gasped and the sound sent blood pounding through his ears. He lifted his head and she relaxed as he pulled his arms free of her hips.
“My lord, I do not think you should be doing this.”
“Trust me.” He rose onto his knees and urged her legs wider.
“Erroll,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“What I have wanted to do since the night I broke into your room.” He drew back her folds to reveal the pink flesh and the bud hidden there.
“Perhaps you should douse the light,” Eve said in a tremulous voice.
“Not for all the sheep in Scotland.”
He lowered his mouth again and this time probed gently at her opening. The scent of her desire and taste of her on his tongue was an aphrodisiac unlike any other he’d experienced with other women. Suddenly, he wanted to savor her until she begged him to stop, then he would push her even further until she burst apart in his mouth. Slowly, he grazed her bud with his thumb while thrusting his tongue into her channel. She arched her hips slightly. Erroll stroked again.
She whispered something incoherent and he stroked again, thrusting deeper with his tongue. Eve shuddered beneath his mouth. He moved his mouth up to her pleasure point and sucked the bud into his mouth.
“Ohh,” she said on a moan.
Carefully, he inserted a finger into her channel. Her body jerked. He sucked harder and thrust in shallow bursts inside her. She unexpectedly jammed a hand into his hair. So the lady liked this. Erroll flicked his tongue against her in rhythm with the movement of his finger. Her hips lifted off the mattress, pressing against his mouth. He obliged and sucked harder. She gave a soft cry and tensed, her heat against his mouth.
Need assailed him on a tidal wave of blinding desire. He crawled up onto her and, grasping his cock, shoved into her. She gave a startled cry when his hard length stretched her walls. Her contractions closed around him. He thrust, his lust demanding another climax from her while his rod stroked her walls.
Mercilessly, he drove into her, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and whimpered pleas to end the erotic torture. Then he broke apart, blood roaring through his ears like the crash of a massive waterfall. Pleasure flooded him and all rational thought disappeared. He was aware only of the tight walls squeezing him beyond the limits of pleasure in an explosion that left him limp on top of her.
Chapter Nineteen
Erroll had wanted his wife again in the night, all night, but had given in only once. She was all but a virgin. Blane had clearly taken her maidenhead, but if there had been more, it had been so little and so long ago, it was a bare technicality. Had Erroll given in to his baser instincts, she wouldn’t have been able to walk that morning. A possibility that pleased him more than it should have. It was probably best that he’d woken to find her gone from his bed. He guessed that had as much to do with the uncertainty of how to face a man who had done to her what he’d done, and the possible embarrassment of a maid walking into the room while he had his head between her legs.
He entered the drawing room to find Eve surrounded by the ladies of his immediate family, including the newest addition, Grace Crenshaw. Eve looked up from the papers she and his mother were absorbed in and Erroll’s breath caught when he realized that the shy smile on her face was for him. The picture she painted sitting in familial harmony with the women of his clan made her far more beautiful than she had been even in last night’s fine muslin dress. He recalled the vision he’d had of her waiting for him at home, her belly swollen with his child, and suddenly his fears melted away and he wanted that fantasy to become a reality more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
“Good morning, Erroll,” his mother said.
“Mother.”
He crossed to her chair, bent, and kissed her cheek, then did the same to Eve. She blinked in obvious surprise, and Erroll caught the knowing glance his mother cast in Olivia’s direction. Women knew far too much. The thought should have worried him. Instead, he gave Olivia a kiss, then his younger sisters, and even Hilary, who turned her head aside in an effort to thwart him. Erroll grasped her cheek and planted a kiss anyway.
“Ungrateful wench,” he muttered when she shot him a dagger-filled look.
He ended with Grace and surprised everyone, including himself, by giving her a brotherly kiss on the cheek, as well.
“You are in a fine mood this morning,” his mother commented.
Yes, women knew too much. “What are you ladies working on?” he said.
“We are running low on food,” she replied. “So we’re planning another menu and wondering who we can bring in to help with the preparations.”
“Do you expect that many guests today and tomorrow?” he asked.
“Aside from the thirty we have housed in guest rooms and the dowager cottage, there are thirty-six more who have said they will attend today alone. More are sure to arrive, and that doesn’t include tomorrow.”
“Why not have ladies outside of Ravenhall prepare some of the food?” Erroll said.
“That is a marvelous idea,” she said. “Eve, would you mind helping to recruit more ladies?”
“Of course, but should I leave with so many guests in the house?”
“Why not? It is our party, we can do as we please.” His mother looked at him. “Would you have time to escort your wife, Erroll? You will also need to arrange for more supplies.”
“I am at your service.”
“Perhaps Olivia is a better choice for this task,” Eve said. “She must know the ladies.”
“Erroll knows them well enough,” Olivia said, “and they will be glad to meet the newest addition to our family.”
“Shall we say one hour?” Erroll said.
“That will do perfectly,” his mother said before Eve could protest, and Erroll could have kissed her again. So he did.
Twenty minutes after they left Ravenhall, Erroll rode alongside Eve and found himself thoroughly entranced. Whether the shock of their marriage had worn off, or she had simply resigned herself to the situation—or perhaps the fact that he had bedded her properly—she was more relaxed then he’d ever observed, and the change was miraculous. Her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed. She looked happy. Did that mean she could be happy with him?
“I have never seen so many sheep,” she said.
He looked west, away from the channel, at the sheep grazing on rolling hills. “You will see more farthe
r north, deeper into the Highlands, or even in the Outer Hebrides,” Erroll said.
She looked at him, eyes wide with laughter. “More than are here on Mull? Impossible.”
He laughed. “This flock is but one of six or seven tended by Reid Morrison. His wife is the first lady we will visit today. “
“Reid must do very well by his herds.”
“He does very well tending them,” Erroll replied. “My father is a fair employer.”
“Your father?”
“Yes, he owns more than half the cattle on Mull.”
“I had no idea,” she said. “That must keep you very busy.”
“Not I. Until recently, we had a man helping my father manage the properties and livestock, but Ash has taken charge.”
“Ah, you don’t care for shepherding.”
“On the contrary, amongst other things, I manage the cattle in England.”
“So you chose England over Scotland?” she asked.
Erroll shrugged. “Not so much chose. My training at Oxford prepared me for a life in England, so it only made sense I would manage my father’s holdings there.”
“Rubbish,” she said.
He looked at her. “Rubbish?”
“You obviously love it here. As the marquess’ son, you could do as you please.”
“On the contrary, it is because I am his son that I am duty bound.”
She gave him an accessing look. “Duty bound to do what?”
“No need for you to worry about that. The marquess’ holdings are well in hand, I assure you.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” She regarded him for a long moment, then faced forward. A cool breeze lifted the tendrils of hair that escaped her chignon. “Mull is so different from England,” she said. “Perhaps you simply prefer a warmer climate? I imagine the winters here are raw.”
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