Well, yes, he knew that much was true since she’d moaned and rocked her hips in time with his ministrations, but did she climax? It was easy to tell when a gentleman reached the peak. He released his seed. But with a lady, there was no obvious sign she’d found her fulfillment.
“When I say fulfillment,” he began, noting that both her touch and the topic was arousing him further, “I mean a burst of pleasure that is more intense than anything that came before it. After the burst, you feel so relaxed you can barely move.”
“I don’t think I’ve had the burst of pleasure, as you describe it. Everything feels good, though.”
Well, he was going to have to change that. He wanted her to climax. He wanted her to know what it was like to be so consumed with pleasure that she forgot about everything around her.
He removed her hand from his shaft and urged her to take off the undergarments beneath her riding skirt. “I want to show you want I mean by fulfillment,” he explained as he helped her out of the undergarments.
He took her to a comfortable part of the ground. Keeping her skirt on was a wise move since it acted as a blanket and would aid in her comfort. “Lie back and let me touch you like you just touched me.”
With a nod, she did as he instructed and spread those lovely legs so he had a good view of the patch of dark blonde curls that beckoned to him. His hand went up one of her legs until his fingers were at her entrance. She was slick. Was it possible that touching him had aroused her? Probably so. He certainly got aroused simply by exploring her.
He slid his fingers along her entrance, and without any effort, two went into her. She let out a sigh and lifted her hips to take him deeper inside. The folds of her flesh surrounded him, welcoming him to fully explore her. He brushed his fingers along her core, and since she moaned her pleasure, he grew bolder in his ministrations.
Soon, his fingers were thrusting in and out of her in earnest, an action which only served to remind him of how exquisite it felt when he was making love to her. And this further aroused him to the point where he ached to have those lovely legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged deep into her.
This prompted him to go faster, and she returned his enthusiasm by rocking her hips with more urgency as she clasped the skirt in her hands. He watched her, noting the expression on her face and the way her body was growing more and more tense. He’d never seen anything more erotic in his life.
Then, all at once, she cried out and grew still. Her flesh clenched and unclenched around him. His gaze went back to her face, and there was no doubt she was experiencing an orgasm. Good. She’d found her fulfillment. And now she knew what it was like and he knew how to bring it to her.
He waited until her body relaxed before he removed his fingers. He thought about stopping here, thinking it might be best to continue this in his bedchamber. But his body wasn’t going to have it. He was far too aroused to quit at this point. But he wasn’t going to subject her to the hard ground. Even if the patch of grass was soft enough, it wouldn’t be comfortable for her.
“Will you get on top of me so I can make love to you?” he asked after a few seconds passed.
She nodded and straddled him, groaning as she took him inside her. Her flesh clenched around him, warm and slick, pulling him in deeper. Grasping her hips, he guided her up and down his shaft, oblivious to the fact that he was on the grass. At the moment, all he could do was focus on her and how good she felt as she squeezed around him. Before long, he grew taut and released his seed.
Once he relaxed, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, not in any hurry to get up, even if it suddenly occurred to him that this wasn’t the most comfortable place to make love in. It didn’t matter, really. He’d make love to her anywhere.
It seemed that ever since he’d met Damara, he hadn’t been able to show any kind of restraint. There was something about her that kept prompting him to throw caution to the wind. It was so unlike him. As little as a month ago, if someone told him he was capable of acting like this, he would have laughed and told them they were being absurd. But here he was, giving little thought to what he was going to do next. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, except that he’d never felt freer to be who he really was than he ever had in his entire life. And he had Damara to thank for that.
Chapter Eight
Damara had hoped she’d conceive right away, but two weeks later and in the middle of the night, the familiar ache in her abdomen told her she hadn’t. She hurried out of bed and checked the sheets in the moonlight, praying she hadn’t soiled them. Soiling the sheets was never good. Blood was one of the most difficult things for the maid to clean. Fortunately, the sheets were fine.
After putting on the robe, she ran down the hall to Celia’s bedchamber. Once she lit one of the candles in the room, she set it on the dresser then searched the drawers for anything Celia might have used for the monthly flow. The abundance of jewelry, gloves, hairpins, frilly handkerchiefs, and fans only increased her dismay. These had no real practical purpose for what she needed.
The ache in her abdomen became more pronounced, probably because she was focusing in on it. Whenever she did that, it only seemed worse. She stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. There. That helped. The ache didn’t seem quite so insistent now.
She resumed her search, but the last two drawers were only full of stockings. Aggravated, she turned to the three armoires. She didn’t recall seeing anything of use in those, but maybe that was because she hadn’t been looking for them. Just as she went over to one, the familiar trickle of blood moistened her thighs. She rushed back to the dresser and grabbed a handkerchief, quickly wiping the blood so nothing would get on the rug.
“Damara, are you all right?”
Gasping, she almost dropped the handkerchief as she looked over at Anthony who stood in the doorway. Her face flooded with the heat of her embarrassment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping into the room.
How was she supposed to explain this to him? He wasn’t a lady. He didn’t go through this every month.
“Damara?” he gently pressed as he closed the distance between them.
She tried to blink back her tears, but one slid down her cheek. If she hadn’t been so concerned about keeping the handkerchief between her legs, she might have been able to wipe it away before he noticed.
He rubbed her back and studied her face. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m bleeding,” she finally blurted out. “It’s my time of month.” Another tear found its way down her cheek. “I don’t know where your sister keeps the cloth strips for this kind of thing.”
“I don’t, either. I’ll have to summon the maid.”
The maid? Why hadn’t she thought of that? She mentally cursed herself for not thinking of doing that herself. She would have saved herself needless humiliation if she’d done so. A gentleman must never be privy to the timing of a lady’s flow, her mother would be scolding her. It’s your duty to keep the matter discreet.
Another tear fell down her cheek. Anthony would be disgusted with her now. He might not even want to touch her after this. Despite the situation, she needed to get another handkerchief. Her flow wasn’t heavy yet. It’d take another couple of hours for that, but she still needed to make sure nothing soiled the rug.
After he pulled the cord, he returned to her just as she took out another handkerchief. She paused, not knowing whether she should let him know where she was putting the handkerchief or not, but in the end, she figured it’d be better not to stain the rug so she slipped it between her legs, avoiding eye contact with him as she did so.
“Celia will have something,” Anthony said, his voice unexpectedly soothing. “She usually spends the entire winter here with me, and I know ladies deal with this once a month.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” He chuckled. “For what? You have no more control over this than you can control the sun. It’s just something ladies experience.” He rubbed
her back. “Believe me, I’d rather you be a lady than a gentleman.”
She found herself laughing at his joke, and as she did, her embarrassment eased. “If I had my choice, I wouldn’t deal with this at all.”
“My sister wouldn’t, either. She calls it a curse.”
His sister would be right. There was nothing wonderful about it.
“I wish it could be differently for you,” he whispered.
She studied his expression, noting the tenderness in his gaze. “You aren’t disgusted with me?”
“No, of course not. Why would I be disgusted?”
Someone knocked at the door, saving her from having to answer. They both looked at the doorway in time to see the maid enter the room. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
Though the maid had directed the question to Damara, Anthony was the one who answered. “Do you know where my sister keeps the cloths for that time of month?”
The maid’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, I do.”
She went over to one of the armoires and pulled out a box tucked behind the dresses. She opened it and laid out several strips of cloth. Then she got out an undergarment to hold the strips in place.
“Would you like me to help you with this, my lady?” the maid asked.
“Um…” Damara glanced at Anthony.
“Oh!” Anthony cleared his throat. “I should leave you two alone. Come back to our bedchamber when you’re done,” he told Damara before he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
He wanted her to return to his bedchamber? Their bedchamber? He wasn’t so disgusted that he was going to confine her to another room where she’d have to stay until her flow was done?
The maid went over to her and helped her into the undergarment, making sure the cloth was securely in place. Then she helped Damara wipe the blood from her legs and put the handkerchiefs into an empty bowl.
Since the maid looked at Damara expectantly, Damara washed her hands at the basin. The pain in her abdomen worsened, and she winced. From here, it would only get worse, and there’d be no relief for at least a day.
“Would you like something for the pain, my lady?” the maid asked.
“There is nothing you can do for me,” Damara replied, forcing her attention to the dry towel, which she picked up to dry her hands. “The pain is something I must bear with.”
“It might be worse than the pain I contend with, but I think the drink can at least ease some of it.”
“No, you don’t understand. There is nothing a lady can do to get rid of the—” She turned to face the maid. “You have something that eases your pain when you have your monthly flow?”
“Yes. It takes a half hour to work, but it does wonders. As long as I keep taking it every two hours, I experience no more pain.”
“But I thought there was nothing that could be done about the cramping.”
“Why, there most certainly is. Some herbs have the ability to numb pain. I’ll bring you the drink I use, and we’ll find out if it works for you.”
Damara watched as the maid left the room, a surge of anger making her fists clench. Her mother had lied to her. Her mother had told her there was no way out of the pain that came upon her every month. She’d only said, It’s a good reminder of your duty to bear your future husband children.
Why would her mother allow her to suffer every month? Every month, Damara’s cramps would be so bad that she was confined to her bed, often crying until she finally fell asleep.
And now that Damara thought about it, her mother never suffered the same malady. Her mother was able to go about the manor as if she was free from pain. Her mother had told her that she did feel pain, but she knew how to deal with it.
Another lie. Her mother made sure to take something for the pain herself. Either that, or she never had to experience the awful cramping. But what did it matter? The fact remained her mother had lied. It hadn’t bothered her mother one bit when she suffered.
She hated her mother. She hated her father, too, but not as much as she hated her mother, especially after this. Getting away from that estate was the best thing she ever did for herself. She banged her fist on the table. Her parents would have no control over her again.
Footsteps came down the hall, and she relaxed her fists.
Anthony poked his head into the doorway. “What happened?”
Backing away from the table, she said, “Nothing. I’m just waiting for the maid to return with something to help ease my pain. I…I…” She had to explain the noise he’d heard. “It can get so bad that I want to pound the table. I’m sorry.”
“What a terrible thing it is when something so natural should bring so much pain.” He went over to her and drew her into his arms. “I suppose the same can be said for childbearing.” He kissed the top of her head. “Honestly, I don’t think I could do it. You ladies are far stronger than gentlemen are.” He slid his arm around her waist. “Would you like me to carry you back to bed?”
“No, I can walk.”
She leaned against him as he led her back to their bed. She’d gotten away from her parents. That was the important thing. She couldn’t do anything about the past. No amount of wishing things had been different would make it so.
What she could do, however, was appreciate everything she had now. Anthony was good to her. She could trust him. He’d never put her through the things her parents had. Yes, she’d take comfort in that. The past was over, and now she had a future she could look forward to.
The maid came to their bedchamber about five minutes after Anthony helped her settle into bed. She drank everything the maid had given her, and as the maid promised, her pain started to ease within the half hour. And shortly after that, it went away completely. This time when she cried, it was with relief. She’d never have to suffer through another month again for as long as she lived.
***
A couple of weeks passed, and Anthony smiled at Damara as they finished their dinner. The nights were shorter these days, requiring candlelight earlier in the evenings. The flames from the candles created a rather becoming effect on his bride. Her hair almost seemed to glow like a halo that an angel might possess.
In some ways, she seemed more like an angel than an actual person since he found her in the middle of nowhere. Of course, she hadn’t magically appeared out of nowhere, but when he thought about how little he knew about her, it almost seemed as if she had.
Most of the time, he didn’t even think of it. She was a very pleasant lady to be around. She never made any demands from him or the staff, and if he didn’t want to do something, she didn’t press him to do it.
It was a welcome relief after all the years he’d felt manipulated into doing whatever his sister wanted, especially in regards to Loretta. He was often too grateful to be free of marrying Loretta that he didn’t bother questioning his good fortune.
Just thinking of Loretta reminded him that he had to explain the situation to his sister and Loretta when he returned to London. Fortunately, he didn’t have to concern himself with the matter right now. No. For now, he was spared upsetting his sister. What a blessing it’d been that Celia stayed in London.
“You’re unusually quiet this evening,” Damara said. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I feel fine,” he assured her. “In fact, I’ve never felt better. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She returned his smile. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too.”
His heart warmed at her response. He had suspected she was happy with him, but it was nice to hear from time to time. Yes, things were definitely better than they would have been with Loretta.
He set his napkin on the plate. “I just realized I haven’t shown you the east wing. It’s only fair that the mistress of the estate gets acquainted with all the rooms in the manor.”
“I’d love to see it.”
Good. The matter settled, he rose from the chair and escorted her out of the ro
om. Once he lit the candles in a candelabrum, he led her to the east wing of the manor. Their footsteps echoed quietly off the hard floor in the hallway. The curtains were drawn, making it seem darker than it actually was. Yes, the sun was setting, but it wasn’t night just yet.
Next to him, Damara edged closer to him and grabbed his arm.
He glanced over at her and realized she was getting spooked. This, in turn, made him pay careful attention to how things must look to her. The candlelight cast shadows across the walls, and as they passed by the drawn curtains, he suspected she imagined someone hiding behind them. Well, someone…or something.
With a grin, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t let any of the ghosts harm you.”
“Don’t be silly. Ghosts aren’t real.” Though she made an attempt to sound brave, he detected a slight uncertainty in her tone.
“Are you sure?” Yes, it was wrong to tease her. He shouldn’t be encouraging her imagination to go wild, but he was enjoying the way she felt against him as she clung to him.
“You’re horrible, Anthony,” she admonished, even as she giggled. “You should be mindful of a lady’s delicate sensibilities.”
He kissed her cheek. “You’re right. I’ll behave. There are no ghosts lingering in the hall.”
“Thank you.”
“They’re too busy hiding in the rooms.”
She gasped and pushed away from him. “You’re horrible, Anthony. Just horrible.”
He chuckled and opened the door to the room that had the most items in it. “If you feel something tap you on the shoulder, just tell it to go back to the grave. That’s what I do.”
He could tell by the expression on her face that she was trying to assure herself that he was joking. Chuckling again, he stepped into the room and set the candelabrum on the table.
Then he returned to the doorway and poked his head out into the hall. “Are you coming in?”
A noise came from behind her. She jumped and hurried into the room. He, however, kept his gaze on the source of the noise and saw a mouse scamper across the hall. He’d have the butler set some traps. Glancing back at his wife, he saw Damara hugging herself in a protective embrace. The poor thing was really scared.
The Viscount's Runaway Bride (Marriage by Bargain Book 1) Page 6
