“I lied to you,” Henry’s voice broke into her reverie, the words so unexpected she nearly gasped. Lied? About what? “I didn’t just go to Sarah’s to spend time with Nathan. I went there …”
Hannah could sense the tension in his body increase, as if anger and betrayal had suddenly replaced his sorrow.
“I went there to … to bed Sarah. It has been more than a month since I .., and I meant only to renew my relations with her …” His breathing had quickened, and his head no longer lay pressed against her. “She is mine, after all. It is my right!”
Hannah let go her hold on him, not sure how to respond to his revelation nor to his rising anger. Or her own flash of … was that jealousy she felt just then? She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Sarah was marrying another. “I figured as much when you did not return earlier,” Hannah offered, hoping her conciliatory tone would calm him. The words seemed to have the opposite effect, though. He stood up from the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.
Hannah dared a glance at them before returning her gaze to his face, trying hard not to allow fear to show in her eyes. Henry caught the look, though, and followed Hannah’s quick glance. He unclenched his fists. Biting his lip, he looked around as if he wanted to punch something. “Damn her!” he whispered hoarsely.
Starting at his curse, Hannah’s eyes widened. Should she tell him now? No, not when he was so angry. Perhaps another approach. He had gone to Sarah’s expecting to bed her. So bed me instead, she thought quickly. Despite his anger and sorrow, the thought of him atop her this very moment sent a thrill through her body. The space between her thighs began throbbing with need, her nipples hardened, and somewhere in her core, desire bloomed. “Take me instead,” she ordered, her chin thrust out. “Pretend I am Sarah. Bed me the way you do her.”
The challenge seemed to catch him by surprise. His brows furrowed. He looked at her with a sideways glance and shook his head quickly.
“Do you undress her, or does she take off her own clothes?” Hannah asked then, rising to her knees on the bed. She slid the dressing gown from her body and tossed it to the side. “Does she remove your clothes?” She reached out to capture the ends of his cravat. She yanked the linen from around his neck and moved to pull his shirt from his breeches. He stepped away, pulling his shirt off his body in a quick motion, his breaths quickening. His hands were undoing the fastenings of his breeches, his eyes boring into hers the entire time. He wore no boots or stockings; he had to have removed them when he first got into the room. With one swift yank, his breeches were off his body. Standing before her, naked, his cock hard and upright, his chest heaving from breathing too fast, Henry looked every inch a predator.
His prey still stood on her knees on the bed, her lips parted and her eyes smoldering, daring him to do his worst. The outline of her erect nipples shown through her nightgown, the dark space above her thighs apparent through the translucent fabric.
Hannah held her breath as he suddenly advanced, an arm like steel wrapping around her waist to force her knees from beneath her. As she fell to the bed, he had the front of her gown between his fists, the cloth rending as he pulled it apart from the top. She stifled the cry of alarm that was about to erupt from her as she felt the shredded fabric flutter to the sides, her arms still encased in its billowy sleeves. His body descended onto hers. She knew instantly there would be no foreplay, no gentle kissing or stroking or licking. Henry was hell-bent for intercourse, hard and fast.
And, at that moment, Hannah’s need matched his.
Opening her legs as his body dropped, she moved to wrap her arms around his neck. He captured them both and forced them above her head, pinning her wrists with an iron grip as his hardened manhood drove home in one hard, unforgiving thrust, filling her instantly. Her upper body rose up in reaction, her heavy-lidded eyes opening wide before returning to their smoldering glare. “Yes,” she hissed, not knowing what else to say to such a frantic assault. The cant of her chin dared him to do it again, and he took the challenge, pulling himself all the way out of her body before plunging back into her as her legs wrapped around his back, her ankles anchoring one another to his back. Her hips lifted to meet his thrust, forcing a growl to escape as he met the unexpected counter thrust and felt the cage of her legs around his body.
“Hannah,” he hissed back, his mouth coming down onto one of her breasts, his lips and teeth suckling and biting so hard she was sure she would be left with bruises.
Her chest lifting in response, Hannah gasped, her hips again meeting his in the hard, fast rhythm he had quickly established. Although she thought she should feel fear at his animalistic behavior, she instead felt excitement. Arousal. Primal lust. In only one more thrust, she would peak, she would crest and the waves of pleasure would cascade down around her and she would be lost. But what of him? “Now!” she groaned, her chest lifting again, her back arcing as he filled her.
Henry’s mouth came off her breast. “I will not spill my seed on this bed,” he growled in response. “Never again!” His cock left Hannah’s body and plowed into her one more time, this time her sheath clenching on him so hard he was forced to allow his climax, forced to allow his seed to spill into her, forced to allow a wave of sharp and sudden pleasure to grab him and violently toss him and leave him gasping for air and seeking respite in the soft body that lay beneath him, the body that was caught in its own spasms of pleasure so violent he had to let go of her wrists so he could hold himself up for just a moment more.
Suddenly released from his hold, Hannah’s arms spread out on either side of her body, the white, billowy sleeves of her ruined nightgown making her look as if she bore angel’s wings. Her hair, spread out on either side of her head, formed a halo on the pillows. But her eyes were still black, black with desire, black with … fury?
Didn’t Sarah allow him to take his pleasure whilst he was inside her? Did Henry always have to withdraw and spill his seed in her bed?
He must have, when Sarah said, “Now.” Hannah had meant it only as a warning of her impending orgasm, not a demand that he withdraw from her. And then Hannah remembered Sarah’s words. I have known I will never have another child with Henry. I make sure of it. All those years Henry spent with Sarah, and yet he could never have her the way he he’d had Hannah these past few weeks. He could never share in the pleasure of a mutual orgasm, of the sensation of being torn apart in splendid release and put back together piece by piece with the gentle undulations of a woman’s secret place.
Henry’s gaze slowly cleared as his body put itself back together. He still hovered over her, his upper body held up on elbows that threatened to give way at any moment. And he swept his eye over the body beneath him. Hannah looked every bit the angel, her breasts still lifting and lowering with her every labored breath, her smoldering eyes clearing to finally meet his in mutual recognition.
“Oh, good God, what have I done?” he got out as he tried to lift himself from her body. Her legs were still wrapped around his buttocks, though, preventing his spent body from lifting away from her. He collapsed down, burying his head in the pillow next to her head, her spread arm beneath his collarbone. “Oh, Hannah,” he whispered, his voice sounding as if he might cry.
“Shh,” she answered, turning her head so her lips could capture his ear and kiss it gently. They lay like that for several minutes, until Hannah’s legs were too tired to hold up any longer. She slowly lowered them along the back of his thighs before allowing her ankles to unlock and her feet to take purchase on the coverlet.
“Why, Hannah?”
The simple question caught her off-guard, forcing her to stare at the ceiling, a ceiling she realized she had never seen before. They had only ever shared her bed.
She thought for a moment, trying to decide how to answer his simple question. “I am your wife. I could not stand by and do nothing when you needed … this,” she replied quietly, wincing as she heard the explanation. Of course she could have stood by and watched h
is agony. She could have returned to her room and left him to his mourning. He would recover one day, realize he had a wife he needed to bed every night if he truly wanted an heir. And she would never deny him her body.
He knew that, too.
At least, he certainly knew it now.
“We rarely kissed.”
Surprised at the odd comment, Hannah had to suppress a gasp. She brought her free hand to rest on the back of his shoulder. “Why ever not?” she asked in a gentle whisper.
Henry turned his head on the pillow so that his face was very close to the side of hers. “She thought it … too intimate. Too … telling, I suppose.”
Sighing, Hannah swallowed. “How sad,” she replied, her voice quiet, its tone matching the word. Perhaps Sarah would find kissing more appropriate with Tad McDonald. When they were husband and wife, society would accept her as something other than the earl’s paramour. “I rather like it when you kiss me,” Hannah added, sighing when she heard his ‘mmm’ in reply.
“I had no idea I would enjoy it as much as I do,” he countered, his voice sounding sleepy. His body seemed to start just then. He raised himself up to hover over Hannah before his lips came down onto hers. The kiss was soft and warm, unlike anything they had shared that night. When he pulled away, he said, “I do not want our child to have been conceived this night,” he said, pulling himself out of her. He winced when he saw what his teeth had done to one of her breasts. “Oh, Hannah, I am so sorry,” he murmured, his glance passing between her face and her bruised breast. “I … Sarah requires … she can only …” He stopped and gave a helpless shrug. “It’s almost impossible to bring her to ecstasy unless there is some … pain,” he finally got out, his frustration with his ex-lover suddenly quite evident.
Hannah felt empty as he left her body, but with his explanation, she was suddenly glad she was probably already with child. No wonder his lovemaking had been so violent. She had thought him merely angry at Sarah’s decision to marry. A decision Sarah had obviously made without first seeking his blessing.
At the reminder that Henry would no longer be sharing Sarah’s bed, Hannah placed a hand on the side of his face. “Will you seek another to be your mistress?” she wondered, hoping her question wouldn’t anger him. “I know you will always love her. She is the mother of your son …”
“No,” he whispered, turning his body so that he lay on his back. “I believe it is time to concentrate on more important things.”
Hannah turned on her side, nestling her head into the small of his shoulder. “What might those be?” she wondered sleepily, thinking he referred to the improvements to the property or the farm equipment or the restoration of Ellsworth Park.
Henry kissed her head. “You, of course. And getting you with child,” he said with a wan grin. How much simpler everything would be from now on, he realized. How could he think he could keep Sarah satisfied when he could offer her nothing but a life as a mistress? She had long ago made the decision not to be his wife despite his every overture. It was time he let her go to make her own life.
He felt Hannah’s hand pulling on his wrist, moving his hand so that it settled on her belly. She had placed her small hand over the top of it, her fingers settling between his before she gave him an incandescent smile. At his look of shock and the sudden movement that left her flat on her back and him on his side with his hand still resting on her belly, Hannah giggled.
“I am not yet positive …” she tried to get out before his lips took purchase on one of her nipples. “Oh!”
“But?” Henry managed to get out as he moved his lips to her other nipple, kissing it more gently. He had bitten it far too hard earlier.
“I am three days late with my …”
His lips were on hers even before she could finish her sentence. When he finally pulled away to nip her earlobe, he whispered, “You have made me the happiest man in England. Even if you are not yet with child.”
Hannah smiled, her heart suddenly filled with more gladness than she could ever imagine feeling. “Let’s make sure I am, then.”
Henry regarded her for a moment and then finally nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”
Chapter 21
Little Harold Makes a Discovery
“The main trench along the western line is complete, my lord,” the foreman announced as Henry rode up on Thunder to review the progress of the laborers. Despite the cooler temperatures, several men were perspiring as they leaned on their shovels and drank from canteens.
Henry dismounted and surveyed the ditch that now stretched from the river to the north edge of the field. He stepped down into the trench and looked toward the river. The final earthen dam was still in place, although once the gates were built, that would be dug out to allow river water to flood the trench. He could only hope the trench wouldn’t have too many low spots that might trap water, or high spots that would prevent water from filling the trench along its entire length. “Excellent work, Mr. Coley. If this weather holds, Mr. Perkins and his crew should be able to start the gate tomorrow. And your crew can move to the central trench.”
Frank Coley nodded. “Very good, my lord,” he replied, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “The stakes marking the channel are in place, of course, and Mr. Filbert will see to staking the gate openings just as soon as he is back from Bampton.”
Filbert was the surveyor responsible for making sure the guide markers for the trenches were installed in straight lines perpendicular to the river. He had also seen to it a section of the eastern field had been plowed so that there would be end guides for the trenching to follow as the laborers dug the central ditch. Henry could only hope the lay of the land was level enough for everything to work once the trenches were flooded.
“I’ll have Cavenaugh bring his oxen and plow the day after tomorrow. With the plows here and in the village, the rest of the furrows can be done in three or four days,” he figured, hoping he wasn’t waiting too long to get seed in. He wanted the infrastructure for irrigating in place before he had the valuable seed planted. If the weather remained too chilly, though, it wouldn’t do any good to plant too soon anyway.
The construction on the greenhouses was progressing. If what Aldenwood predicted came true and there was no summer, Henry wanted the greenhouses in place and producing whatever could be planted under their protection, preferably fruits and vegetables. A building crew had completed the framing for the second greenhouse the day before. A glazier from Bampton would begin the installation of glass panes as soon as the frame was complete. There wasn’t enough glass in all of this part of Bampton to cover both greenhouses, but with glass on the south-facing roofs and walls, oilcloth could be used on the other surfaces to keep the structures warm.
Henry heaved a sigh of relief when he realized the first greenhouse might be ready in just a few weeks.
He remounted his horse and tipped his hat to his foreman. “Send these men to their homes, Mr. Coley, but pay them for a full day.” When the men nearest to him heard his announcement to the foremen, they broke out in cheers. He gave Thunder free rein and headed toward the stables behind Gisborn Hall.
That day’s post had brought word of Hannah’s dowry from her father. The Marquess of Devonville had arranged for it to be deposited into Henry’s bank account. With more than enough to pay for the buildings and for the gates to be built, Henry was feeling a bit generous. The Gates of Hannah, he thought with a grin.
Henry was nearly to the stables when Harold bounded toward him from the north. The puppy was barking, the sound deeper than it had been his first day at Gisborn Hall. Thinking the dog was merely greeting him, Henry gave him a nod and continued on his way toward the stables. But Harold was soon racing ahead of the cantering horse, turning in circles and then running back toward the southeast. When the dog looked back and saw that Henry wasn’t following him, Harold barked again.
Henry watched the dog turn in a circle and run back toward him. When
the dog reached the area in front of where Thunder was about to step, Harold turned and barked again. Thunder was forced to step sideways and finally come to a halt as Henry pulled on the reins.
Angry at the little dog’s odd behavior, Henry cursed. He stared down at Harold, intending to scold him. But the dog raced off toward the southeast again, stopping and turning as if he expected Henry to follow him.
Curious as to the dog’s behavior, and remembering the late Harold’s similar behavior when he was trying to get Henry to the river, Henry spurred Thunder to follow the dog. Harold was soon bounding over the furrows that had been dug earlier that day, his white and brown fur appearing and disappearing as he leaped over each furrow edge and landed in the depression in between.
At one point, Henry realized Thunder had gone too far; Harold’s bark was suddenly coming from behind them. Turning the horse around, Henry spotted the dog, the front of his body and head peeking over the top edge of a furrow as he resumed his barking.
Wondering if the dog was involved in some form of play, Henry allowed Thunder to pick his way back toward the little beast. He slightly cursed at the thought of some of the furrows being trampled not only by his horse but by Harold. He dismounted once he realized Harold wasn’t moving from the spot from where he stood guard.
Hands on his hips, Henry stared down at Harold. “What has gotten into …” His words faded as he realized Harold stood over a spot in a furrow where he had obviously done some digging beyond what the plow had accomplished earlier that day.
Scattered on the freshly turned earth were several coins. Leaning down, Henry picked up one and brushed the dirt from it. The sovereign gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. He knelt down and retrieved several more coins, all sovereigns.
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