He undid the froggings at the neck, unhooked the inner fastenings and discarded the robe on a nearby chair, the white lining flashing a reminder of the surprising nature of inner secrets. He let me view him, and I took the opportunity to scan him thoroughly, just to ensure everything was there and in the right place. As I watched, his cock stirred. A good omen of future loving.
He smiled and climbed into bed, using the little footstool set by the side. Interesting to watch the play of his muscles on his arms and chest while he did so. He caught me looking, and his gaze met mine. He froze, one knee on the mattress, the other still on the footstool. He touched my chin, the only part of my face he could reach across the expanse of sheet.
I flicked my tongue over his finger and loved his responsive shudder, which he made no effort to hide. “Tonight, my love,” he said, “we finish what we started. I have to stay with you now, else I’ll get no sleep at all, and I can’t be with you without making love to you. Not now.” He groaned. “It kills me, but I can’t resist you anymore.”
He lifted his body onto the high mattress without effort. His nipples were already peaked, as were mine. I sat up and let the sheet slide down my body, enjoying the sensation when it caught on my nipples before it fell to my waist. He reached for me, grasping my waist and tugging me flush against his body.
“I’ll never tire of the way you feel against me,” I told him. “You feel so strong, so, well, masculine.” I laughed. “I’ll never make a poet.”
“You hold all the poetry I’ll ever need,” he assured me, his lips so close to my temple that I felt the air pass between us as the words left him. He punctuated the sentence with a kiss, and when I lifted my head, he pressed a gentle salute to my lips. His eyes, half-lidded as he stared down at me, darkened as the pupils grew with his arousal. “So beautiful. A world in a world in a world.”
“What do you mean?” We shared a love of John Donne’s poems, but I couldn’t recall that line in any of them.
“Your body is a world to me, all the world I need. It sustains me and gifts me with its presence. It contains your soul, a world inside. We’re in this bed, a world of its own. We’re inside a room, inside a house—”
“Inside an estate, inside a country…” I laughed. “I see. You are my world too, my love. All of it.” I thought of the children, people we had created from our love and now beings in their own right, and I remembered Helen’s delight in the garden today. Not very romantic, but so much a part of married life that it seemed natural.
I didn’t voice my thought, but he must have seen something in my eyes, for he laughed too. “Tell me. It’s about the children, isn’t it?”
“Just that I thought of you today. Helen scrambled towards a bush, one I’d already moved her away from because it had prickly leaves, and the glance she gave me, to see if I was attending to her—it was pure you.”
He raised a brow. “In what way?”
He wasn’t letting me off lightly, then. “The mischief and the calculation. That girl is already working out how far she can push us. And it’s likely she’ll push you further than she should.”
“Highly likely, my love. How can I deny her anything? Just as I can’t imagine refusing you whatever you want.” Trouble put creases between his brows. “You understand why I’m so careful with you?” He touched his lips to my nose, and then my mouth, but released me so I could answer. His arms remained cinched around my waist.
“Of course I do.” I couldn’t imagine his tender care ever leaving me. “You’re afraid for me. There’s no need. We brought the highest level of servant with us, didn’t we? And it’s too early to jump to conclusions. Not until we know where John Kneller is. I imagine he’s having a fine time abusing slaves and bedding plantation owners’ wives and daughters.”
He tsked. “I hope not.” He drew me closer, so my breasts pushed against his chest. “It whirls around my head sometimes that I’ve done wrong. I had to let him live, to give him a chance. He had so much potential and he’s young yet. He could prove a great man, if he overcomes his tendencies for revenge and retribution.”
“Don’t.” I smoothed my hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble gathered there. Sometimes he shaved before coming to me, but I liked the stimulation of the short hairs on occasion. They could hardly be seen because of his fair complexion, but now they glinted in the starlight and the light of the two candles I’d left burning, set in the holders above our heads. I wanted to see him, to glory in his male beauty as we made love. Now I saw his concern, and although I wanted nothing more than to soothe him, I rejoiced that he felt secure enough in our love to hide nothing. It had taken him some time to learn that. I wouldn’t let that go. “Don’t think of it. Don’t think of him. Concentrate on the facts, what is happening, until we know for sure.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I worry for you, and now I worry for our children too. I think it’s become something of a habit, and I have to unlearn it. Maybe here, in this lovely country, without the duties I’m usually subject to, I’ll find a way to relax.” He smiled. “I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms and the best family in the nursery.” His smile broadened, but I saw the trouble still lurking in his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll learn to live with any imperfections.”
When his lips touched mine, I let them open, let him tilt his head to increase the connection between our mouths. He tasted me, his tongue flicking around my lips, then deeper, rimming my mouth and touching my teeth in a sensuous caress that made my skin prickle under him. My nipples hardened further, pressing against the hard muscles of his chest and I moaned, wanting more and now.
His tongue delved, and I met it with my own, stroking, caressing, pressing closer so I could suck on it with a delicacy that wouldn’t last long. He opened his mouth wider, urging me closer. The muscles in his back flexed against my open palms as I swept my hands up and down the length of his body, eager to experience and share every part of me with every part of him.
Finishing the kiss, he kept my gaze with his as he laid me on the crisp sheets, my hair tumbling against the white pillows. He grasped a handful of it, let the unruly curls sift through his fingers. Lifting them so the candlelight gleamed against the strands, he watched them fall against the linen. “So beautiful. None of the silk in all China compares to this.” He rubbed his nose against the waves, inhaling as he did so. “I love the way you rinse with lavender and rosemary. I never experience that particular scent without thinking of you. It brings you to mind, like this.” He gazed at me, drinking in my curves and my skin. “Lying back, waiting for me to share my body with you, to love you. And I do. So much.”
“I love you too.” It was all I could find to say, but it sounded inadequate to my ears. I wanted to say so much more, but words failed me, so I showed him instead.
When we were first together, my innocence was only matched by his eagerness, but he’d taught me to be unafraid, unashamed. We brought so much to each other now, and I knew him so well that he said we met as equals these days. However true that was, I don’t know, but I loved that he said it and I tried to bring him all the honour he did to me. I wouldn’t show him any reticence. So even though my body wasn’t what it could be, even though fine silvery lines marked some places and my curves were less ample than they used to be, I knew I still gave him pleasure, so I wouldn’t hide from him. Ever.
The evening being mild, I threw back the sheets and kicked them aside. No doubt we’d need them later, but not now. The light caressed his sleek curves and the powerful lines of his body like a lover. I traced the highlights with my fingers; his broad shoulders, usually so carefully disguised by his coats; his slim waist and hips, the bones perceptible to my hands; and his shaped muscles, firm with exercise and health. He remained still for me, leaning on one elbow and his hand, half-covering my body, watching me take pleasure in him.
When I touched his shaft, he sucked in a harsh breath. His cock was ready, hard, the smooth, silky skin damp with his essence, the
drops he gave me as tribute to ease his way into my body. He braced his hand against the mattress, ensuring he wouldn’t fall onto me. I gazed at the stiff evidence of his desire for me and grasped him before working my hand along his length. Mine, all mine. Every bit.
Slowly, he lowered his body until my nipples grazed his chest, and he stopped. Moved, stimulating the already sensitive tips to almost unbearable sensations. “You feel more there, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice came out trembling. I wanted so much, but he’d taught me the exquisite pleasure to be gained in waiting. I would feel even more soon. “I feel you touching me.”
He lifted one hand that braced his body on the mattress and cupped a breast. That breathtaking display of strength, balanced on one hand only, his body steady above mine, might have surprised some of his enemies. But it didn’t surprise me. I had ample proof of his power. He took my nipple between thumb and forefinger, caressing it with almost unbearable tenderness, slowly increasing the pressure until I arched my body up towards him, trying to feel it all, take it all.
His low chuckle told me I wasn’t the only one affected here. With a swift, decisive movement he bent and sucked my nipple so that I cried out from the unexpectedness of the move. Retaining my hold on his cock, I used my other hand to clutch the back of his head, hold him there. He played, twisted his tongue around my sensitive flesh, tickled the very tip until I begged for mercy. He gave a devilish laugh and turned to the next one while his breath cooled on my skin.
He drew hard and let the nipple out of his mouth, then blew on it. I squirmed; he held me in place. “They’re more sensitive, aren’t they?” He hummed at it, his breath gusting across the tip he’d already stimulated to screaming point. I wondered if the nurses could hear me and decided I didn’t care. As long as I didn’t wake the children.
When he licked the underside of a breast, he activated a new area and invited it to join the riot taking part inside me. His hand slipped down my body, shaped my waist and cupped my hip before heading inexorably lower. His soft kisses on my stomach made me shudder, and he only paused at my cleft to tease, tickle my entrance with his finger, then slide around the opening without entering before delivering a long, slow kiss to my clitoris. Then my thighs, before he raised his head and met my gaze. I could hardly believe the level of eroticism from seeing my husband between my legs resting his chin on the curls that protected my mound.
The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Ready for me yet?”
“More than ready,” I managed. Barely. “I want you so much. Please, Richard.”
“I want you more,” he growled, and finally came up on his elbows and made his way back to me. His shaft pressed against my stomach, hard and needy, leaving a wet kiss behind when he lifted again and put a hand between us to guide himself into my waiting body.
The pause that followed went on too long. I gazed into his eyes, smiling, ready, but my smile faded as distress entered his blue gaze. “Richard? What is it?”
“Rose. I don’t know, I—I—”
The hesitation was so uncharacteristic of him that fear grazed my arousal. I reached up, grasped his forearms. “What is it?” For a moment, he didn’t speak. “Richard, please, you’re worrying me. Tell me.”
He groaned and swung off my body to lie next to me. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t understand.” With a savage gesture, he swept the sheets off his body so I could see him down to his knees.
His cock was no longer erect. It lay lax and at ease on his stomach, taunting me with its inactivity. But I couldn’t feel as bad as he did. I couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t give him any reason to doubt me or my love. I leaned up and over him, touching my lips to his in a gentle kiss.
He moved away. I followed, urging him back to face me. If he’d wanted, he could have wrenched away from me, but he did not. He gave a resigned sigh, dropped his arm and opened his eyes. Drenched in sorrow and confusion, he gazed at me. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry, Rose.”
“No. It could be any manner of things.” I searched my mind, frantically wondering what it could be. He was so close—I could almost see his shield forming, protection he’d used against the world for so long. Not against me. Never against me. “You’re tired, worried, maybe you wanted me too much.” That sounded good, and it would be something for him to think about, though I couldn’t entirely believe it myself. “You wanted and wanted, and then went over.”
“I didn’t come.” He shook his head. He looked so much younger like this, without his wig and furbelows, without the lace and the powder that made him so much a man of the world. Here he was himself, the essential Richard. “I wanted you, Rose, but something went awry. I don’t know what it was or why it happened.”
I rolled over him, lying on top of him so he couldn’t get away. My nipples were still furled and hard, a travesty, but I wouldn’t hide them. I remained wet, which no doubt dampened his thighs, but I wouldn’t hide that, either. He deserved honesty, and I wouldn’t stint in giving it to him. Within limits.
I couldn’t rush into it. Now he needed reassurance and love, not doubts. Doubts would, I was sure, make everything worse. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together, we’re not sleeping apart. Not ever again.”
He gave a wry smile. “I won’t leave. I promise.” He smoothed the hair back from my temples, holding it clear of my face so he could see me properly. The light flickered over his features, sending shadows chasing across his high cheekbones, his bright eyes. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m tired, that’s all.”
Yes, that was it. It had to be. “You cared for me and the children so much you didn’t take care of yourself. Now it’s my turn to care for you. I need to eat and rest, nothing more. I feel fine now, just weak. I know I have some ground to make up, and I promise I’ll be good and take care of myself. Now we have to care for the children together and make sure they have what they need.” If a child reached its fifth birthday, that was a good sign it would live a long and prosperous life. I wouldn’t allow anything else to happen.
I shifted against him, and immediately he put his arms around me and held me safe and close. Always in my care. I could adore him for that alone. After a lifetime when nobody particularly cared, although I was loved as part of a robustly large family group, to have the devotion and care of one person was like having my very own pasha. “You’re worried about the children.”
“And amazed. I look at them in wonder sometimes.” He grimaced. “Even more, now. That I could have made them when I can’t even—”
I touched his lips with my finger to stop him saying it. “Once, my love. Just once. After a long journey. I’ve rested, but you have not. And we have this new problem, the poor maid. In the next few days I think that matter will resolve itself. We’ll discover it was a squabble between the domestic staff, or someone Lizzie has dismissed or scolded, even. You know we will.” I knew we wouldn’t, but if the thought gave him solace tonight, I would say it.
He kissed my fingers before I removed them, allowing him to speak. “I know no such thing, but I appreciate your concerns. I think perhaps I need to get the matter into perspective. On top of everything else, to have your life threatened in this way, I won’t deny it rocked me. I thought we’d reached a haven of sorts. By the end of the winter, I’d have a healthy wife, happy children and I’d be able to return home to face my mother secure in the knowledge that I had a healthy, happy family.” He paused. “Then out of the blue you fell ill. So ill Carier worried for you.” He smiled at the surprised expression in my eyes. “I questioned them both thoroughly after you fell ill.” He sighed. “I won’t be protected from the truth, Rose. Ever.”
“Neither will I,” I reminded him. “Don’t even try. I can feel the strength returning, every day a little more, and the sickness merely proved a minor setback. Please, don’t keep me out of this. Share with me.” He’d taken too much on himself in the last weeks. Perhaps that was part of the reason for tonight. As it was, it g
ave him something else to worry about.
“Very well.” He drew me close and kissed me with such tenderness that it brought tears to my eyes. After that he had to kiss them away. “I promise I’ll keep you involved, every step of the way. Will that do?”
“For now.”
He swung me around, laying me down next to him and rolling over me. “In the meantime, there’s no reason both of us should suffer.” He kissed me again, drawing it out this time, taking his time to explore me and love me.
His member didn’t respond. It remained half-erect, stubbornly refusing to complete its journey. But Richard wouldn’t let me touch it, wouldn’t let me try to stimulate him back to full hardness. Instead, he lavished all his attention on me. He kissed down my body once more, and this time he stopped at the seat of my pleasure, teasing and tasting. The first occasion he’d done that to me, my shock was only exceeded by the joy he’d given me, but now I knew this was a way for him to regain his mastery over the art he’d made his own—the art of making love.
He moved down and slipped the tip of one finger into me while he took possession of the pearl of flesh that brought me the most pleasure, flicking it with his tongue while he spread his free hand over my backside, holding me to him like he was consuming a special treat. He worked me, slowly pushing his finger into me then adding another and scissoring them open to caress every part of my inner channel. When he discovered the spot that made me cry out and clutch handfuls of his hair, he laughed and lapped up the tribute my body gave to him, waiting to take long, sweeping licks over my clitoris and then sucking it into his mouth once more.
I erupted, my body straining against him, giving him all the love I could, physically and mentally devoting myself to him. Whatever he was, whatever he did, I was his willing slave. But not one without a brain. I wouldn’t allow him to sink into self-recrimination and doubt, and I was glad he’d made this decision, to make me the recipient of his attentions.
Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 Page 14
