Devonshire: Richard and Rose, Book 2

by Lynne Connolly

  I put my hand to my mouth, realising what I had innocently walked into. “Oh!” Lizzie’s subterfuge hit me like a brick on the back of the head, and with about as much subtlety. Relief surged through me. They’d taken the maid with them, when she should have remained behind as a rudimentary chaperone.

  I wondered if Lizzie had contrived the whole scheme or if Gervase assisted her in her deceit. I stood alone, my hand against the heat of my face, waiting for us both to recover our composure.

  When Richard stood away from the door, his smile changed subtly, from amusement to tenderness as he regarded me standing foolishly in the middle of the floor. I didn’t know how to think or behave. His smile made me blush even more.

  “Come here.” He held out his arms. I didn’t need a second invitation. I walked straight to him, instantly dismissing Lizzie and her schemes.

  His kiss was more intense than he’d allowed himself recently. I emerged from it breathless. His cool blue gaze returned my regard, freely and without guile.

  “We have two, maybe three hours.” I took a quick breath, and seeing my doubt he added, “Of course, my love, if you want to survey the house and leave we can always hire a vehicle to take us home, but it is near enough to our wedding day for us to take a risk. If you wish it.”

  That would let me off the hook if I didn’t want to do this, if I should wish to choose the safe way. “We ought to look at the house,” I said steadily, still not decided on the course we should take. I yearned for him with an intensity I wouldn’t have imagined possible, and his proximity to me only made matters worse. Exquisite torture. But now we had the opportunity to indulge in what we both longed to do, doubts assailed me. Could I really not wait a week or two?

  We toured the house while my turbulent thoughts calmed. It was bright, well furnished, and seemed to be the kind of house where her ladyship and her family might comfortably spend a few weeks. The dust covers were removed in preparation for our viewing but unlike Hareton Abbey before Martha had taken control, everything was clean and in good condition.

  He was a little surprised when I led the way to the kitchens. “Do we have to?”

  “We must make sure the kitchens are clean and serviceable.”

  Grinning, he preceded me down the stairs. Martha’s training in housewifery must have gone deep, if I could think of practicalities while the blood sang in my veins. Every time he touched me the hairs on my neck stood up. The tour gave me a little more time to make up my mind. I knew what we did here was my decision. I felt his tension as though it was my own, which in a way it was.

  The kitchens were bright, clean and totally empty, the fire cold and comfortless. The copper pans hung clean and scrubbed in their proper places. I touched one and listened to the clang as it touched its neighbour. I had never in my life been in an empty house before. I found the experience strange, and not altogether pleasant.

  We went to the first floor and examined the principal rooms where Richard declared himself satisfied. “This will do. I’m sure my mother will be content with this.”

  I had taken a couple of steps up the flight of stairs to the second floor before I realised what lay there and what it might mean. I turned back to him, my heart hammering. He smiled, and put his hand on mine where it lay on the banister. “We don’t need to see any more if you don’t want to,” he assured me, his voice a soft, seductive purr. “I can wait three weeks.”

  His blue eyes gleamed with the desire he didn’t have to articulate and then I knew what I wanted. I touched his cheek. “I need this as much as you do.”

  Before he could make a response, I turned and led the way upstairs. I knew I would have fallen to the floor with him then if he’d wanted it, all my training, my sense of social rightness gone.

  This was not like our rash encounter at the Abbey. Most members of society would wink at this. Many affianced couples, given extra time and freedom to get to know each other, anticipated the wedding ceremony by a week or two. Several “premature” babies were born seven or eight months after the wedding. It was even considered desirable, a proof of the bride’s fertility.

  When we’d made love before, Richard was contracted to marry someone else with no prospect of being released from the contract. It had been a terrible risk to me and to my family. They would have been tainted, maybe ostracised by any scandal which involved me, but at the time I didn’t care. I’d wanted to give him, free and clear, the only gift I owned which I thought worthy of him, and after some persuasion, he’d taken it in that spirit.

  We’d been lucky.

  The bedrooms were as charming and as bare as the other rooms, and we passed through them without comment.

  We went into a large bedroom at the back of the house. “This will do for me,” Richard said, no inflection, no emotion in his voice. That absence of expression told me he was apprehensive, too.

  The windows were draped in some gauzy stuff, which afforded privacy. The large room was bright, as the sun had by now emerged from its cloud cover and did its best to indicate that summer was on its way. There was nothing personal about this room. The new-looking bed in the middle of the room had light draperies drawn back and tied against the mahogany bedposts. Fresh linen adorned the bed, and a light coverlet of blue quilted cotton. It was as though it silently waited for us to break its unoccupied spell.

  I heard the click as he closed the door with a finality that made me shiver in anticipation. It had been so long. To hold him, touch him, talk to him and yet not engage in the ultimate intimacy had drawn me as tight as a drum. I had no idea this would mean so much to me, but it did.

  Feeling the light pressure of his hands on my shoulders, I turned with unreserved joy into his arms. They closed hard around me and he kissed me, letting nothing hide his passion. I responded, eagerly trying to show him how much I needed him too. His tongue entered my mouth, taking possession, joining us in an imitation of what would follow. His kisses weren’t those of the experienced lover, but born of an eager, frantic desire, each kiss devouring me as if he wanted to sate himself on me. We could have been new to the experience, both of us. It made me want him more until the yearning rose to an explosive demand that nothing could deny.

  He loosened his hold to slip his hand between our bodies, at the buttons of his waistcoat. If I hadn’t had my mouth on his, I would have smiled, for the first time we’d made love I’d been so eager and so nervous that when I had performed this office for him I’d pulled too hard, and showered the floor with waistcoat buttons. Obviously, he didn’t want to take the risk this time.

  He released me, but never took his gaze away from mine, his hunger apparent in his wide, blue eyes. If his society acquaintances could see him now all their preconceptions about the sophisticated man of fashion would fade into mist. He slid his coat and waistcoat off in one swift movement, the satin linings making it easy for them to slip to the floor. Then he returned to hold me and kiss me again, his heat tantalisingly closer. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and my excitement lifted to fever pitch. I caressed his tongue with mine, letting him explore my mouth and meld his body to mine.

  Even at this extreme of want, Richard didn’t fumble; he knew exactly where a lady was hooked, pinned and laced. He put his nimble fingers to work on my gown, unhooking, unlacing with speedy efficiency, faster than I could have done. I helped as much as I could, eagerly tugging the cord of my side hoops free, so they fell to the floor with my gown and petticoat. My other petticoats followed in quick succession, and my stays had never come off so quickly before. I needed to feel his body next to mine, ached for it. I might stop breathing if I didn’t touch him soon.

  I was left in only my shift, and he went down on one knee and placed his hands either side of my legs, grasping my calves as if to steady himself. His breathing had become ragged, matching mine, the only sounds in this quiet room. He looked up at me, let me see the need in him. I stared back, hiding nothing, totally unable to. “You bring me to the level of a schoolboy with his firs
t woman,” he said, his voice as uneven as his breath. “I want you until I think I’ll go blind from the need.”

  He drew his hands up the sides of my body, bringing my shift with them, and I lifted my arms so he could pull the garment over my head in one smooth movement. The feel of his hands as they ran all the way up my body quickened my desire and I gave a little “oh” of pleasure.

  “Let me see you, love.”

  I stood unashamed in the middle of a discarded pool of multicoloured silk.

  Quickly, efficiently, he stripped off his remaining clothes and tossed them to join the others on the floor, letting me see his hard, vigorous body while he gazed at me. It seemed we stood forever like that, the only sound being our breathing, ragged gasps. His slow smile could have stopped my heart.

  Then, with an “Oh, my sweet life!” he surged forward and swept me into his arms so at last I felt his blessed warmth. He kissed me, bent to kiss the pulse on my throat that sent shivers up my spine, then he passed his hands over my back, a smooth river of caresses pouring unceasingly over me. His bare skin, his heat, his very presence intoxicated me and, as once before, I ceased to think about anything else.

  There were only the two of us in the world. “Richard. I want you so much.”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t think it was possible, but I want you more than ever before.” He put his hands under me and lifted me, taking a stride towards the bed but before he could do so, unable to wait any longer, I lifted my legs to wrap around his waist, and folded my arms around his shoulders. He laughed in surprise and delight and then gasped. I slid down to touch his erection against my entrance, aching to feel him there.

  He was inside me before we reached the bed. When I felt him enter me, I knew my need as raw, instinctive passion, and felt his, ruthlessly reined back for my pleasure.

  He sat on the bed, instead of laying me down as I expected him to and I thrilled with the realisation that this gave me control over our lovemaking. I took it eagerly. I’d never known this kind of power over a man before. The first time, I’d been so overwhelmed by the demands of my own body and of his, I’d let him guide me to pleasure. I hadn’t questioned his control. Now he gave me this gift, the power to do what I wished.

  I heard the sound like a mix between a chuckle and a low groan deep in his throat when I moved my body over him. The sound urged me to do more. I lifted up, using his shoulders as support and then sank down, opening my legs wide to take as much of him into me as I could.

  He kissed me, moaned softly, murmured endearments, “Oh so beautiful, oh my dearest love.” He nuzzled my breasts and I lowered my head to kiss him. I tried moving on him, shifting my body from side to side and he cried out, took my nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. Everything stopped, only this existed. When I froze, unable to do any more he pressed me close, lifted me to sink back down, slid his fingers between us and touched me in a place which made me explode. I held on tight, crying his name, my body racked by convulsions of ecstasy.

  He waited until I opened my eyes again. His slow, loving smile touched my soul, and I whispered to him, “God, how I needed this.”

  “Sweet love. I need you as much as I need the air around us. Let me show you how much.” He slid his arms around me, and lowered me on to the bed, moving on top of me without leaving my body. His movements were slow, smooth, making me feel every nuance, every touch, every kiss, going on forever. Time disappeared, life went away until there was only this time, such was the intensity of physical pleasure, the expression of love. When his movements quickened and his thrusts deepened, I cried his name and lifted my legs to pull him close, hearing his gasp. I thought he might have found his release then, but he continued to move, slowing to a languorous loving that reached to the deepest part of me. I didn’t know how he held back his own climax. “I will not…” His teeth gritted and he pushed deeply. “You will come again, sweetheart, before I do. I want you trembling in my arms, helpless, as I’ve felt these past weeks.”

  It went on forever. I smiled into his blazing blue eyes, hiding nothing, letting him see everything.

  His rhythmic movements brought a dreamy awareness of slow growth, but he smiled into my eyes. “Are you tired, my love? Shall we stop now?”

  “No, no. Never stop, never!”

  He laughed, the sound free of anything but delight, and I laughed too to hear him. He obeyed me, and let his body tell him what to do. His movements became ever more urgent, more demanding until with a wordless cry he stiffened and he shut his eyes tight. I felt a slight movement, as though he would withdraw, so I pulled him closer, letting him push hard inside me. He crowned his ecstasy in a series of shivers.

  He sank down beside me on the bed. Our legs entwined, we lay together for a long time, still and overwhelmed.

  I would have drifted off to a contented sleep, but I was brought back to our version of reality when he sat up, reached for the quilt we’d kicked aside and pulled it over us. It was only just April, and the house wasn’t heated, though I couldn’t say I’d noticed before. His movements roused me, and when I opened my eyes, I saw him propped up on one elbow, watching me with such warmth in his face it took my breath away. “You’re an extraordinary woman.”

  I smiled up at him. “I’ve never thought of myself like that before.”

  “Few could have done some of the things you’ve just accomplished.” He rested his free hand on my stomach. “You’re supple, wanton, open and you have an inventive quality I can’t wait to explore at some—considerable length. If I didn’t love you already, I would still count myself lucky to have found you.”

  It sounded as though he was describing someone else. “I’m so glad I make you happy.” I didn’t think I’d done anything special, but unlike him, I had nothing to compare it to.

  He lowered his head and kissed me long and sweetly, but then returned to his previous pose, leaning on one elbow, looking down at me. “You’ve made me promise something I might find hard, but I mean to keep.” I quirked an eyebrow at him. “To keep no secrets.” Normally I wouldn’t need a reminder. “Will you promise me something in return?”

  “Anything.”

  He laughed at my instant response. “Truly? I might keep you to that. But for now, will you promise me you will never keep me from your bed? May we spend every possible night together?”

  “That’s easy.” I reached up to touch his face. “I promise.” He turned his head to kiss my palm. When he moved back, I saw the small curls of his close-cropped fair hair brightened into gold by the sun streaming through the windows behind him.

  I was struck by a thought, and I felt relaxed enough to share it with him. “But you won’t want me in a few months time, if I’m with child. I’ll be fat and ugly.”

  It was one of my private fears, that while I grew large with his children he would revert to his previous ways, driven by his needs, and while I knew I had all his love, I couldn’t bear to think of him like this with anyone else. A provincial attitude I know, but that’s what I was at heart—a provincial. To share him might kill me. I kept my tone light, unwilling to let him know how much it meant to me.

  “You’ll be glowing, blooming and beautiful.” He kissed me on each word. “I would only want you more if I knew you carried my child.” His hand moved lightly over my stomach and I was placated for the present. I hooked my hand around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

  I loved the warmth of him, the closeness of his body next to mine, and I lay back and luxuriated in the feeling. He caressed my breast, moved down to kiss it, then circled the other one with his hand. His hand moved lower, slipped between my intimate curls. His actions made me tremble. “Richard?”

  “Shhh…” was his only reply. His kisses passed on to my stomach, long, lingering kisses on my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. I shivered, surprised and slightly afraid but I trusted him, and soon my body tingled all over in yet another new sensation. I gasped with surprise, thrilled to his touch, the feel of his explorator
y fingers, his tongue delivering the intimate kisses that forced repeated shudders from me. He licked, kissed, tasted and then drove his tongue deep inside me.

  I forgot who I was, where I was. My body arched of its own volition, so violent was the white-hot explosion that shook me through. I cried out, not knowing such intense feeling existed before this.

  He came back up the bed to me. I reached for him blindly, and he entered me again, the sum of every part of me, all I could think of, all I wanted. He pushed me to the heights of pleasure, relentlessly drove me until I cried out over and over, losing all words except his name. He was all I wanted to be, all I wanted to have. He called out to me when he climaxed, accepting all I was giving to him.

  Richard took his weight off me, but came back at once to take me closely into his arms. I breathed deeply, recovering, the scent of him surrounding me. I felt completely safe.

  “What was that?” I still wasn’t sure how he’d taken me so far out of my world.

  He kissed the top of my head. “That, my sweet, was me, inadequately trying to show you how much I love you.”

  “It was wonderful.” I couldn’t believe the intensity of it.

  He laughed, turned my face up to his with one hand, and kissed me in a gentle salute. “I love you. You’re a constant delight.”

  “You’re a constant surprise.”

  I felt the closeness; our hearts beat next to each other in time. I could have stayed there forever. When he released me I felt the loss keenly. I watched him throw the covers back and go to search amongst the discarded clothes on the floor.

  I lazily watched him find his coat, and feel in the pocket. He brought out a small box, his watch and a piece of paper. He sat on the edge of the bed and read it. Then he handed it to me. “That should be good news. It was put into my pocket earlier, when I was jostled in the street.” So that was why he hadn’t made any fuss. It read: