by Terry Long
His head lowered to hers and he placed a quick kiss on her parted lips. When he heard Ally take a quick intake of breath, he knew he’d surprised her again by his impetuous actions. She began to shift from his embrace.
“Let me,” he murmured against her lips. He brought her closer, pressing her soft body against his, and covered her mouth, possessed it feverishly. He tasted her as if she was his honey. He stroked every corner inside her mouth and knew the instant she gave in to her desire.
Following his lead, she gave him equivalent measure. She swirled her tongue, mated with his, and entangled back full force. It felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Her scent intoxicated him. His hands urged her supple body against the length of his hard one, caressing her, squeezing her in unmentionable places. Dear God, it made him crave for more, much more.
He could kiss her all day. When his body began to stir to the point of severing into pieces, he knew it would take great strength to let her go…but he didn’t have to let her go, did he? She was his wife.
And she felt so damn good rubbing against his arousal. She knew just how to move to get him hotter, lustier.
“I need you,” he announced when he was able to tear his mouth from hers. She appeared dazed, but didn’t waylay him, so he plucked her off her feet and placed her on the bed where he hungrily covered her body with his own. “I want you,” he panted, unable to hold back any longer. “Now.” As he fumbled with undressing her, his mouth trailed down her neck. “My God, you make me ache.”
Wrestling with the ties on the back of her dress, he gave up and tore the bothersome fabric down to its bodice. He faintly heard Ally’s gasp, but didn’t take the time to look at her face. No, he was too entranced by the sight of her nipples straining through a thin chemise. The swells of her perfectly round breasts beckoned to him. He lowered his mouth to take one.
By the time Michael had his fill of suckling her, he struggled with the stays on her corset, until he at last got it untied and tossed it over his shoulder like a hungry creature, unfed for months.
Ally shivered while he shrugged off his shirt, her mouth parted, her breath heavy. Michael took her mouth again as his hand raised the chemise up her legs, squeezing the smooth flesh there. He trailed his fingers along her inner thigh, leisurely and lightly, reveling in the silky sensation, knowing exactly how much his touch stirred her.
When he saw a ripple pass down her throat, he stopped his torment and lifted his fingers to the apex of her thighs. Ally was searing with passion, perfect to the touch. “My God, you’re just right,” he groaned against her neck.
Yes, she was incredibly perfect. He wondered if she’d ride him. Did she know how? He bet she did. He’d wager everything he had that she’d ride him…like she did all the lovers she had in Dartford.
Michael’s head snapped up, his mind clearing. He heaved in short, hitched breaths as he stared down at her. She was a whore, allowing men to use her body without a trace of compunction.
“You like this don’t you?” he asked in a jarring voice that caused even him to wince.
Ally opened her eyes, locking her passion-filled gaze on him. She looked a touch baffled, knotting her brows. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but Michael didn’t let her speak. He went on in disgust, “As much as you like their blunt?” He pushed off her and left her partially naked and shivering on her bed as he made way to his chamber.
Chapter Twelve
Two long days had passed since that horrid afternoon, and Ally never attempted to go downstairs. And fortunate for her, Michael did not drag her to the dining hall for supper. Perhaps he, too, was humiliated. No, no one could ever be as mortified as she. Of that, she was certain.
She had acted the harlot for him, permitting his guileless hands to touch her in her most private places. And worse, she liked it. Ally’s ears burned at the mere thought of his body: the wide expanse of his chest, the hard planes of his abdomen, his blunt fingers and warm lips. Why did he have to feel so…good?
She always believed Michael Langdon to be a man who exerted force, caused pain and the like. But he was different in all those ways. He’d treated her with such delicacy, such tenderness; she was left to wonder how a man so large could have such a delightfully gentle touch.
Well, he was gentle up until he’d crossly moved off her. Ally still didn’t comprehend his ramblings. After all, she was a trifle bemused, and all she could hear was her own blasted heart pounding in her ears.
Burying her face with a pillow, she shut her eyes, praying she’d soon forget the events that reduced her to hiding. But the harder she tried to pinch the image of Michael covering her body with his own from her mind, the more vivid it seemed to replay over and over again.
Ally turned over in bed, making the most unladylike groan. Would she ever be able to look him in the eyes? She couldn’t take to her chamber forever. Heaven knows she didn’t want to.
She had to go downstairs and face him. Ally would have to deal with the looming issue she’s convinced would remain, if she did nothing about it. Besides, her stomach growled like a beast.
Worming to the edge of the bed, she tossed her legs over the side, a whirl of self-assurance filling every pore in her body. She would face Michael, and hold her head high, even if he expressed the slightest bit of amusement or made a mockery of her. Ally pursed her lips. He kissed her, almost seduced her, and then became furious before leaving her chamber, as if she had just slapped him across the face. Was it because he hadn’t wanted to want her?
Regrettably, she assumed that was the case. It was clear he despised her. When he realized he’d kissed her—and more—it likely upset him since he seemed to be a man known to have full control of his actions.
When he looked at her during supper tonight, would he ridicule her because she’d offered herself like a tavern barmaid? Well, she’d find out soon enough.
Ally searched her new wardrobe Michael had given her. She supposed if the gesture had hailed from her husband who happened to be any other gentleman, she would have appreciated it. But as her spouse turned out to be him…she huffed. The reason Michael had ordered for a modiste to fill her armoires was because he refused to send for her things from Dartford.
Ally hunted for a gown cut the lowest across the chest and pulled out a sky blue one with tiny white flowers embroidered along the neckline. If she knew anything, she knew that her husband often stared at her there from across the dining table.
She rang for Abigail to help her dress and fashion her hair, leaving a few curls to frame her face. Once done, Ally set out to face her husband with a vengeance. When Michael looked at her tonight, and if he tried to seduce her, she’d reject him before he’d even had the chance to blink!
Feeling quite impatient and excited to face him now that she’d have her chance to slight him, she headed down to the dining hall, beaming. The smile vanished when a footman told her his lordship had requested his supper be brought to the study- just as he’d done the past two evenings. All of her great excitement evaporated in a flash, replaced by a strange feeling of hurt. It wounded her, the measures he took to avoid her, despite the fact that she’d done the same.
So, that evening, Ally nibbled on her supper in the company of a few footmen and Matthews, while clad in her awfully low-décolletage dress.
As she poked at a piece of roasted boar, the butler cast a regretful glance. She smiled to assure him she wasn’t bothered by Michael’s absence, though she wondered what the man was doing at present.
She cleared her throat. “Matthews, how long have you served the Langdons?”
He stood straighter. “Nine years, milady.”
“That is quite long.” She smiled when he looked absolutely pleased with his answer. “Did you serve the former Mr. Langdon as well?”
“I’m afraid I was not lucky enough to do so, milady. While Somerset Hall was under construction, I inquired for the position with a letter of recommendation. Mr. Langdon hired me on the spot, himself.” Deep
crinkle lines shown at the corner of his eyes. Ally cocked her head, witnessing for the first time the butler’s smile. “You see, milady, I assumed Mr. Langdon was a member of staff building the structure, for he—” Matthews beckoned the footman closest to them to leave. “Mr. Langdon had not particularly dressed his station at the time. He had donned…well, let’s just say, he had a hand in the construction of his own home.”
Ally sat back and set her fork down. “That’s…incredible.”
“Yes.” He appeared to be reliving old memories, his eyes far away. “I am pleased to have been hired by Mr. Langdon.”
Her husband was lucky to have such a dedicated employee as Matthews.
“Milady, may I be so bold as to inform you of something?”
“Of course.”
Matthews stepped away from the wall, determination etching his features. “Mr. Langdon is not at all as he seems. He may appear hardened, but I assure you, his heart is as big as any man’s.”
Ally wanted to believe him. When Michael wasn’t aware of her presence around his staff members, she glimpsed warmth in his eyes, bespeaking friendliness. It was only with her that he refused to show any signs of softening. All she wanted was a visit to see her sick grandmother and he wouldn’t even allow discussing it. What big-hearted man declined such simple requests to let one see one’s relative?
“I surmise that from caring for his brother at such a young age and striving to finish building the empire his late father had began, Mr. Langdon did not enjoy much of his own youth. Even today, milady. The only thing I believe he does for himself is—”
“Watching the sun rise.”
Matthews surprised her by presenting her a full blown grin. “Why, yes. You are correct.”
“Why does Mr. Langdon like the sunrise so much? I suspect there is a deep connection with something of grave significance.”
“Right again, milady.” Matthews seemed unreservedly pleased with her, causing her to giggle. “All those paintings on the second floor, he’d purchased sight unseen, hoping they’d be to his liking, but unfortunately, Mr. Langdon said they weren’t. He’d told me to do what I wanted with them, but I hung them along the corridor anyway.”
“Why doesn’t he simply visit an art exhibition?” she wondered aloud.
“Milord has no time.”
“At all?”
“None, milady. He dedicates his days to his business ventures.”
“That’s odd.” And a trifle bit sad. She shouldn’t feel sorry for him…yet she did. She had a strange compunction to march over to her husband and pat him on the hand.
“Well,” Matthews said, breaking the momentary silence. “I shall let you finish supper.” He darted from the room before she could stop him. She wanted to know more about—No!
***
Forgoing the comfort of his dining hall to partake his evening meals among a desk of scattered ledgers and manuscripts vexed Michael. More so when he discovered that Ally didn’t even make use of the empty hall.
As he drained his glass of cool burgundy liquid, his butler strolled inside his study.
“Good that you’re here. More wine,” Michael said as he idly shoved a piece of roasted boar into his mouth.
“Would you like to finish your remaining supper in the dining hall, sir?”
Michael scowled at him while he slammed his fork down onto the desk. “Why the devil would I do that?” He swore his butler was never this meddlesome before he’d brought home a wife. “Wine.”
Matthews didn’t seem deterred by his grimace or the blistering command. He went on, rocking back and forth on his heels, “Mrs. Langdon has just come down for supper, sir.”
The mention of his wife made his ears burn as if he was standing too close to a raging hearth. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of her in nearly three days after their unpleasant incident. Truth be told, it was pleasant-too pleasant-and it scared the bloody hell out of him. She had stirred something inside him, something he couldn’t identify. He just knew he had to move off her. The memory of her willing body swiftly presented him with breathing difficulties, not to mention an aching throb in his nether regions.
Michael returned his butler’s earnest gaze with a frown. “Wine.” He watched with irritation as Matthews left in a haughty fashion, and he wasn’t precisely certain if he saw his butler roll his eyes heavenward or not. Matthews was becoming more and more…like Ally.
Michael groaned. Dear God! He couldn’t possibly deal with another willful person in his household. He’d never come out unscathed.
***
The earthy smell of morning trees and damp soil that surrounded Somerset Hall was always a welcoming one for Michael. The scent was light, untainted, the complete opposite of what usually clogged London. The pungent smokes flowed from the hordes of steamboats, factory chimneys and vents. Michael was glad that he had built Somerset Hall on high grounds, above the entire bustling city that made rackets of noises, and not to mention, the root of much traffic in England. Sitting atop his horse, he stared off into the distance.
Shipping companies ought to be settled elsewhere. Michael contemplated, mindlessly looping the reins around his fingers, and came up with the most valid place- northern England. Yes, northern England was quite a distance from London, and quieter, less populated. Everyone should move there and take their blasted shipping companies and rackets with them.
While waiting for the sun to rise, Michael reflected on other insignificant things: the meeting he had with Havenbrook at one o’clock, his estate manager for his property in Devon at half past two…he wondered if Ally felt less revulsion for him after he’d kissed her or if she abhorred to him even more so. It would be the latter, he was sure as hell. But, he thought with a diminutive smile, she practically melted underneath him. Why couldn’t she be a little less pretty? Then it wouldn’t be so difficult to ignore her, he mused with regret. And perhaps, a little less soft, too?
Michael grew uncomfortable in his saddle. Damnation! She was causing him to lose his head. A nuisance. But hell, he wanted her, and that was the full truth. He wanted to take her, to make her his…and why shouldn’t he?
She was his wife.
If she had permitted other men to take liberties with her before, why shouldn’t she allow her own husband to take his pleasure as well? Surely, he wasn’t that intolerable. He’d been with enough women to know that.
Michael steered his horse to return home. Never mind the sunrise. The morning wind whipped across his face, blowing his dark hair back like the sails on a ship, but he didn’t feel the cold, biting air. He felt like he was doused in fire.
Bounding off his horse and marching toward the stairs, he finally slowed his pace at the front of Ally’s door. He turned the knob with so much force that the door rattled against its frame. Inwardly, Michael advised himself to breathe.
Ally’s eyes flew open.
“Sorry,” he said when she gasped.
She sat up in bed and pulled the covers all the way up to her neck. Staring at him, she scooted back into her pillows. “What are you doing?”
Giving her a tight smile, Michael shut her door with his foot and sauntered over to her. He stopped at the end of her bed and shrugged off his great coat, tossing it onto the floor. His tunic came next, exposing his upper half.
Ally’s gaze fell to his exposed form, as if she’d never seen a man’s bare chest. Michael kept his gaze on her as he took off his boots, carelessly tossing them aside. They landed in thumps onto the floor, and he watched as her eyes momentarily flew to them. That was when he pounced, easing her down, and then tugging her toward him by her legs.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to shake his hands off her ankles.
Michael smiled when he had her where he wanted her. “You know what I’m doing.” A heavy thigh trapped her bottom half, while he pressed her upper half into the soft bed with his chest.
“Are you mad? Stop it at once!”
He grazed over her tender skin w
ith his unshaven whiskers, inhaling along the delicate curve of her neck. “Damn if you don’t smell like flowers again.”
“You’ve truly gone insane!”
Lifting his head, he gazed down at her rosy cheeks, and her shiny eyes that sparkled deep blue, mesmerizing him to no end. Her lips looked as if they’d already been kissed, plumped and pink as they were. “Yes, insane. You did this,” he accused, thrusting his hip once into hers. “Do you’ve any idea what you do to me?” Damn, she felt good beneath him.
She pinched his forearms that trapped her on either side.
“Stop that,” he said drawing his brows. He leaned to one side to capture both her hands and pinned them above her head. “That’s bothersome.”
“You’re bothersome!” Lord, she looked angry. Her eyes absolutely flashed.
“No,” he said, unable to suppress his amusement. “I’m an ogre, if you’ll remember.”
“You’re that, too,” she snapped through clenched teeth.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was damn pretty when she was angry. Suddenly, he wanted to bait her. “I’m more than that, I assure you.”
“You needn’t tell me that,” she countered sharply, thrusting from side to side. “I’m well aware of it.”
He didn’t bother to restrain his amusement. “I’m a goat, too, remember? And I think,” he said, turning his mouth to the side to demonstrate his deliberation. “I think I’m a pig, too. Let’s see, what else am I?”
“A fiend,” she supplied with a glare, coupled with an adorable pout.
“Ah, yes. A fiend. Now, what else?”
Is that a hint of a smile? He didn’t dare think she’d smile at him now, though, of all times. He wanted her to keep up with his banter, but she didn’t oblige. Instead, Ally snapped her mouth shut, and returned his gaze levelly, but the fire was out of her eyes. She stopped struggling, her wrists, pliant in his grip. The only thing stirring was her chest that rose and fell in rapid momentum. Good signs.
