by Diana Quincy
She had wanted to be with him in this way for almost as long as she could remember. “I can take it,” she said breathless. “I want it all, don’t be patient or too gentle with me. I’ve been waiting for this forever.”
He pushed in slowly and profound discomfort replaced the thick desire that had weighted her body only moments before. She tensed against the painful invasion of his body into hers. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth against the discomfort as he pushed further in, making her insides feel like they were being torn apart. Just when she thought she could bear it no further, he stopped pushing. “Is it done?” she whispered through the pain.
His eyes sharpened on her as a tear ran down the side of her face. Something like anguished regret flashed in his expression. He kissed away the tear as though it could take away the sting. “I’ve hurt you.”
She shook her head and pressed a determined kiss against his lips. “Just finish it, please.” She wanted it over and done with, fully consummated to seal her lifelong bond with him, to make it truly irrevocable.
He caught her mouth and deepened the kiss, unexpectedly sweeping her up into pleasure again with drugging strokes of his tongue inside her mouth. Her muscles loosened and warmth slid into her limbs. He began to move, back and forth motions that created a delicious friction, almost leaving her body before pushing in again, until he could go no further. He quickened his pace and her body began to feel the excitement again, began to close around and caress him as he slid in and out of her. Suddenly, seated deep inside her, he froze and shuddered, whooshing an exhale of great relief. Tension seemed to flow out of his body and the weight of him came down on her.
She stilled, her own body feeling strangely unsettled as she wrapped her arms around her husband, welcoming the heavy warmth of his relaxed body against hers. She pressed a kiss into his neck, inhaling his scent, a combined sense of relief and euphoria floating through her. He was finally hers. Totally and completely.
He kissed her cheek and pulled his body off of hers, swinging his long legs over the side of his bed. Rubbing his shoulder, he shifted in his sitting position so he could look at her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, supremely.” She smiled and ran a hand along the sinewy strength of his bare back, thrilled to be able to touch him so. She could never imagine growing tired of touching him.
He bent over to reach for something on the floor, making her hand lose contact with his warm skin. Pushing to his feet, she saw he had his dressing gown in his hand. He pulled it on, giving her a distant smile. “I am relieved. I feared it went hard on you.”
He helped her to a sitting position and busied himself righting her dressing gown in gentle motions that made her feel protected and cared for. Anticipation trilled through her. She wondered what they would do next.
Once he had her dressing gown belted and put to rights, he eased her back down on the bed and pulled the counterpane over her. “Sleep well, my love,” he said and turned and walked through the adjoining door, closing it softly behind him.
…
Kat sat up and punched her pillow before flopping back against it. She had no idea of the time, but it must early morning. The gray tinge of dawn slivered through her windows, shaking off the last of the night shadows.
She shot a look at the closed door which adjoined Rand’s chamber. Amazed disbelief still clung to her at the abrupt manner in which he’d left her last night. She blinked back the tears jerking behind her eyes. Perhaps she should have expected this. She knew most married people of a certain station maintained separate bedchambers.
But her father usually passed the evenings in her mother’s bed. She’d found him there often enough as a child, when she’d tiptoed away from the nursery in the early morning to sneak into the comforting warmth of Mama’s bed. Her father had always been there, in his nightclothes, sleepily drawing her into the bed, settling her snugly between him and Mama before falling back into a snoring slumber.
She’d expected that same sleepy warmth and closeness with her husband. She’d assumed she’d wake each morning with Edward beside her. Shivering, she lay back down and pulled the counterpane over her, seeking its warmth. The fire had died in the night, leaving only cool gray ashes and none of its vitality. Fanny would be along soon to light it.
Her thoughts wandered back to Edward. Only he was no longer Edward. She’d married Rand, an altogether different specimen than the boy who had left her. She punched her pillow again and rearranged herself on it. She couldn’t shake the feeling Rand kept a large part of him—a critical part—heavily guarded and hidden away from her. Had she jilted Laurie, and risked the ton’s considerable displeasure, only to fall into a cold and distant marriage?
No. Time and proximity were on her side now. This time she would wait him out. And he couldn’t run. Even if it took years, she’d break through the shield of distant courtesy Rand had erected between them. Now that she was finally married to Edward Stanhope, she would settle for nothing less than having all of him.
The door clicked open and Fanny slipped in, keeping her gaze averted as she went to attend the hearth. The maid worked in silence as she built the fire.
“You needn’t be so quiet, I am quite awake.”
Fanny turned hesitantly before running a seeking eye over her mistress’ bed. “And alone?”
Kat’s cheeks warmed a little under the scrutiny. “Yes,” she said in answer to the unasked question. “But I am now a wife in both name and deed.”
Fanny turned to poke the fire once more, commanding the flames to leap higher. “So the two of you have finally sated your hunger.” She slipped out the door, returning promptly with a basin of water. “I’ve warm water if you’d like to…ah…cleanse yourself.”
Oh. She’d forgotten there might be evidence of what happened last night. Rising, Kat examined the linens and immediately spotted the stain. Hmmm. She didn’t feel any differently. One would think the loss of innocence would leave a greater mark than the small, unobtrusive streak of rust on the bed linens. “For all of the import society places on chastity, the reality of one’s maidenhead isn’t particularly remarkable.”
Chuckling, Fanny began to strip the bed. “That’s how the culls keep us faithful, I suppose. So we won’t be hopping out of their bed into someone else’s.”
Going to the basin of water, Kat stripped off her robe. She was a little sticky between her thighs, but otherwise felt remarkably normal. She dipped a wash towel in the water and wrung it out. Holding the linens crumpled in her arms, Fanny paused to regard her with a wary watchfulness. “Did he use you roughly?”
Kat wiped the sticky brownish streaks from her thighs, glad for the warm abrading sensation against her chilled skin. “No, not particularly.”
“Then what is it? Was it terrible?”
“No, not at all. It was rather wonderful being together in that way.” She cupped a breast, washing it with the cloth in her other hand. “But as soon as it was over, he returned to his own chamber. It was as if he considered his duty done. I expected more…I don’t know…more interest on his part.”
A knock sounded at the adjoining door. Before she could answer, it pulled open and Rand appeared on the threshold. Air from the moving door breezed across her flesh. Kat froze, naked before the wash basin with the wet cloth in her hand, her skin slick with moisture.
Rand halted, his glance spiked to where she still palmed her breast as though holding it up to him in invitation. He watched for a moment before his gaze traveled down her body in a quick but thorough perusal. Sensation skated across her skin, prompting the tips of her breasts to harden. While he watched. The column of his throat moved. Chills of a different sort puckered along her body at the way he absorbed the sight of her bare flesh.
Averting his eyes, Rand focused on something on the floor beyond her feet. “I do beg your pardon.” He cleared the rasp in his throat. “I thought to see if you would like to ride this morning. If it would suit, of course.” He was alread
y dressed for riding in chocolate brown riding pants, worn boots, and a white open-necked linen shirt that revealed a rugged expanse of throat.
“It would suit very well, thank you,” she said, her voice polite. As though she wasn’t standing naked before him, ignoring the attraction that arced between them.
His gaze returned to her naked form and lingered a bit longer than was polite. But then again, a husband had a right to look his fill. “Very well. I shall see you downstairs.” Taking a step back, he pivoted, going back through the door and shutting it behind him in precise movements.
Kat exhaled, the heightened moment still fluttering under her skin like a thousand tiny butterflies. Fanny’s snort broke the spell. She looked to her maid, almost surprised to still see her there. She’d been so absorbed in Rand, she’d forgotten about the maid’s presence. “What?”
Fanny pushed out her lips, amusement plain as writing on her face. “I don’t think you have to worry about a lack of interest on his part. Nor on yours, for that matter.”
…
“You are in excellent looks this morning,” Rand said, greeting her at the bottom of the massive staircase a short time later.
She dipped her chin. “I’m glad you approve.”
The dark slash of his right brow rose at the coquettish gesture. “Surely, you anticipated that I would.”
Of course, she’d known he would. Kat knew the picture she created. She’d worn the tight-fitting, soft-blue riding gown for effect. After all, if there was one thing Kat excelled at, it was appearances. The hue of her gown heightened the color of her eyes and deepened the shine in her hair. It also emphasized the modest curve of her bosom, which he seemed to appreciate even if it didn’t match Elena’s mountainous proportions. As the ton’s incomparable, she excelled at dressing for public show, like a peacock showing its colors. Today, she’d dressed for her husband. If she could win over the sharp tongues of the ton, surely she could manage one man.
He offered his arm and they strode out the side doors toward the stable. “Oh,” she said with some disappointment. “I’d hoped we’d break our fast first, perhaps on the terrace with its spectacular views.”
“There is much to see at Waterford,” he said. “And I’m keen to show it to you.”
Once they mounted, he led the way, winding them back up through the hills. At first he set a sedate pace, but once he seemed assured of her riding skills, they gave the horses their heads and raced across the wide expanses of the easy sloping hills.
“Here we are,” he said, stopping and dismounting.
She looked across the pleasantly grassy expanse of hilltop. “Where?”
He helped her down and then turned to untie a sack tied to his mount. Taking her hand, he smiled and led the way. “You’ll see.”
They walked around a cliffy edge. The breeze carried the smell of the sea and then the water came into view. They’d rounded away from the house to the hills overlooking the inlet. “Oh,” she breathed in awe. “The view is even more spectacular here.”
“Yes, they do seem to try to outdo each other.” He unfurled a blanket he’d taken from his pack and set it on the ground. They sat with the hillside behind them and the gentle drop of land all the way to the cliffs above the inlet stretching in front of them.
She blinked, breathing it all in; the view of the expansive sea stretching in front of them and brown cliffs, the scent of the sea. Her stomach grumbled, a reminder she hadn’t broken her fast yet. “Dare I hope there is more than a blanket in your pack?”
“You may,” he said, pulling out figs, bread, cold chicken, cheese, and ale.
“I suppose the first rule of a great commander is to always be prepared,” she said with honest appreciation. They began to eat. After her first hungry bites, she slowed herself and focused on her posture, remembering to curve her profile just so, so he would see her to her best advantage.
His teeth tore meat from the chicken leg in his hand. He chewed slowly, considering her. “You know,” he said as though discussing something as banal as the weather, “you don’t have to seduce me.”
She scratched her hand, feeling her nerves. “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
He leaned into her, his mouth near her ear. “I am already seduced.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I don’t require those frippery wiles that you used on Sinclair and all those other gallants.”
“What do you require?”
“You. Just as you are. The same Kitty I left behind.”
“But you are not the same man who left me.”
He looked away from her, out to the sea. “That is true.” She took in his profile. There was nothing refined or soft about Rand anymore. He was much like the terrain that surrounded him; all sharp jutting angles in a less-than-welcoming environment, yet indescribably, inescapably beautiful in an elemental way.
He turned his head to catch her studying him. “I realize last evening might have been less pleasurable than you’d hoped.”
She stiffened. Perhaps he’d left her last evening because bedding her had not lived up to his expectations. “I’m sorry if you were disappointed.”
He laughed, a sound she rarely heard from him, a deep rumble out of his chest. “I was far from disappointed.”
She tipped her head, considering him. “I don’t understand.”
“I was so caught up in my lovely bride, I did not see to your pleasure as I should have.”
She hadn’t been disappointed in the lovemaking, just in what had followed. Still, she ventured to tease him. This new Rand was so serious; he needed to laugh more. “Are you implying you can do better?”
His brows shot up in amusement. “I’m not implying it. I’m stating an indisputable fact.”
She tossed her head, flirting now, an arena she was comfortable with and excelled at. “Indisputable?” She rolled the question off her tongue with obvious disdain.
“Most definitely.”
“Hmmm. I suppose I shall withhold judgment until you’ve convinced me of that.”
He had her on her back before she knew what he was about. His rock-like form hovered over her. “You require evidence, do you?”
“Of course,” she said, her heartbeat moving more swiftly.
He lowered his hips against hers, so that his arousal jutted against her. “How’s that for evidence?”
“It’s a sturdy start.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “You need more, do you?” He moved his hips against her in an insinuating manner, pressing at her mound in a way that sent shivers of pleasure careening through her. “If I am to demonstrate correctly, you must allow me complete access to your money.”
She crinkled her nose. From what she understood, Edward was far wealthier than she could ever hope to be. “What money?”
His hand made its way between their melded hips to the place between her legs. He stroked a particularly sensitive spot through the fabric of her riding habit. “This is your money. Although I’d call it a treasure, myself.”
“You’re gammoning me.” She laughed and pushed against his chest. “That part of a woman most certainly does not have a name.”
“Oh, but it does.” His finger stroked more deliberately. She arched in reflex. “It has many names in fact.”
“Truly?” She found it hard to concentrate on his words, given what his fingers were doing to her. “What are its other names?”
His hand was moving, finding its way under her skirt. “This is hardly a fitting conversation for a lady.” His fingers skated—ever so lightly—up her leg and along the tender flesh at the top of her thighs.
She shivered in anticipation. “We’re out in the open with your hand up my skirt. It’s a bit late for propriety.”
“True.” He brought his lips down on her for an unhurried, devouring kiss. “Very well. If you insist. One’s commodity.”
“One’s commodity?” She kissed him back, long and thorough, sliding her tongue against his, feeling
the hunger grow in him. “That makes sense I suppose. In an insulting way.”
“Especially for denizens of Covent Garden.”
She nodded her understanding. One couldn’t help but notice the weary-looking harlots who frequented the theater district, looking for their next transaction. “Tell me another.”
“This”—his fingers parted her down there—“is your sweet little cunny.”
“Oh.” She stopped breathing. “That sounds positively wicked.”
His finger found the knot where all sensation seemed centered. “One can do very wicked things with it…and to it.”
Pinpricks of pleasure shot through her. “I’m sure you know them all.”
“Hardly. Do you want to hear more?” When she nodded, he continued. “This”—he stroked up and down the length of it—“is your quim, your madge, your muff.”
His dark, smoky voice rumbled through her. Need welled up inside her. “What do you call it?”
He undid his placket and freed himself, nudging hard and hungry against her sensitive folds. “I call it paradise,” he said, pushing into her. “And you’re coming with me this time.”
A moan escaped her. One she could not have stopped if she tried. His finger came back to her sensitive spot, circling it, plucking gently at it. Then he took his hand away and she regretted the lost sensory pleasure. She murmured a protest.
“What a demanding wife you are.” He shifted his pelvis upward, rocking against her rather than thrusting as before. “Better?”
Infinitely. His pubic bone connected to hers, stimulating her with each movement, ratcheting up the delicious, almost painful spikes of sensation inside of her. Catching the rhythm, she began to move with him.
“That’s it.” He kissed her again, his tongue pleasuring her mouth with deep-throated strokes. “Come with me, Kitty.” His voice roughened. “I want to feel your hot little cunny tighten around me.”
His brazen words sent trills of excitement shooting through her, heightening everything happening to her body. He rocked against her in firm, sure movements, the friction causing her insides to contract, tighter and tighter, until something inside her burst and released. She made an exclamation of surprise as warm pleasure spiraled down her legs and pulsed through her.
