Engaging the Earl

by Diana Quincy

  He pumped urgently into her and reached his own crisis soon after, shooting his seed into her throbbing womb. A shudder wracked him, and then his heavy body came down on hers. He shifted his body weight, rolling off of her and onto his back. His breathing uneven as he pulled her into his arms. “Damnation. That was good.”

  She luxuriated in the earthy scent of his skin, suffused with the primal tinge of lovemaking. “I can see why,” she said faintly after a while.

  “Why what?” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her forehead.

  “Why you call it paradise.” And she felt him smile against her skin.

  …

  That evening, Kat stroked a light finger over his hard member. “Does this have a name, too?”

  He tightened his grip on her shoulders. She sat on her bed wearing her chemise, her legs hanging off the side. Rand stood in front of her, naked, allowing the exploration. “It has many.”

  “Remarkable.” Her smooth pointer finger circled the head of his throbbing erection. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to retain control. He’d been so anxious about having an episode on their wedding night that he’d performed less than admirably. He was determined for that not to reoccur this evening. “I never realized marriage would be so educational.”

  He watched her inquisitive finger stroke him, and all he wanted to do was suck it into his mouth. To say nothing of what he wanted to do with his rod. “You have no idea.”

  She smiled up at him, her pearly teeth glistening, her eyes alert with interest. “Enlighten me.”

  He shifted his weight. “This conversation is entirely unsuitable.”

  Mischief crept into her smile. “I’ll tell you what.” She scooted her luscious little bum back onto the bed and fell back on her elbows. The movement hiked the hem of her shift up, baring smooth delicate thighs. He pictured them clasped around his hips as he thrust into her. “You tell me what it’s called and I’ll let you put it in me.”

  His reluctance evaporated. “Arbor vitae, plug-tail, tackle.” He grabbed her knees in one decisive motion, pulling her toward him so that her bottom perched on the edge of the bed. He stepped between her legs and pushed into her sweet wetness. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did and then undulated against him. She was a fast learner, this wife of his. “Tell me another word for your…tackle.”

  He gritted his teeth. “If you start talking dirty to me, I won’t last at all.”

  Her eyebrows raised, as though this was a revelation. “Truly?”

  “Thomas, pole, tool, lobcock.” His voice strained as he stroked all the way into her, as far as he could go. “Although lobcock is not entirely accurate at this moment.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes, moving against him. “Why not?”

  “Lobcock refers to a man’s…member…in a less than…ah…rigid state.”

  She locked her ankles around his hips. “Then that is definitely not the case with you. You are most stalwart.”

  “I intend to show you just how stalwart.”

  “Mmmm.” She sighed with pleasure and then a wicked light gleamed in her eyes. “Your…Thomas…feels so good inside me.”

  His arousal soared. He leaned over to plunder her mouth with powerful strokes of his tongue. “If you persist in allowing filth to escape your lips, I shall have to teach you a lesson.”

  “You’ve given me such incentive.” She gasped when he stroked even farther in her than she thought possible. “I’ve decided I want your…pole…inside of me as often as possible.”

  He groaned, and said pole grew harder, if that were possible. He should slow down, but she had him in such an agitated state that his body took over, stroking hard and heavy. He brought his hand to the place where they were joined to see to her pleasure. She moaned and squirmed and they moved together toward their crisis. Unbearable pressure built up in his stomach and chest, sensation shot down the back of his legs, and the tension broke. Waves of immense pleasure and satisfaction, sensations well beyond the carnal, saturated his senses.

  He collapsed on the bed beside her, breathing hard. “I trust I have proven my point.”

  She stretched, creating a wanton picture with her chemise still bunched up around her middle, baring her from the waist down. “What point is that?”

  “That this business of the marriage bed could be good between us. Very good, in fact.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve proven exceedingly adept. Both this morning and this evening. I’m very fortunate.” They lay there quietly for a few minutes and she turned to snuggle against his shoulder. Her expression turned more serious as she ran a light hand over the unsightly, puckered scar there. “I hate that you were injured and suffering on a battlefield somewhere and I didn’t know.”

  “That is all in the past.” He drew her hand away and kissed it. “I am here now.”

  “Will you tell me about it one day?”

  His chest contracted. “No. It is not something I care to remember or discuss. These are not stories of valor that will entertain the ton.” The words were sharp. Her eyes shuttered and he saw that he had hurt her. He drew her to him, putting his arms around her. “I apologize.”

  “I didn’t mean to anger you. I just want to know you better.”

  Which he could never allow. If she ever saw the full truth of who he was now, it would disgust her. The sounds of scratching at the adjoining door reached him. “That would be Vera.”

  She nestled into him. Her intriguing tapestry of scents—clean soap, musky skin, and the hint of lavender in her hair—curled around him. “I can’t blame her for not wanting to be shut away from you,” she said. “The animal is female after all. We can’t seem to resist you.”

  Thank heaven for that. Rand gathered her in, all warm woman and soft curves, relishing a feeling of relaxed fulfillment. He yawned, not wanting to move, relishing this rare perfect suspended moment. Sweet exhaustion weighted his eyelids.

  Vera whined behind the closed door, breaking the spell. Rational thought speared his contentment. He forced his eyes open. He could not fall asleep here.

  He must have tensed because Kitty opened her eyes. “What is it?”

  He kissed her, pressing his lips against hers, before setting her away from him in a gentle motion. “I’d best see to Vera.”

  She caught his arm. “Don’t go, surely Burgess can see to her.”

  “The two of them don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

  She released him. “Then come back after you’ve seen to her. I’ll wait for you.”

  He stood up by the bed and reached for his clothes, aware she tracked his movements and awaited his response. He didn’t want to leave her. He longed to run his tongue along every inch of her. To take her again and again. To hear her murmurs of pleasure and sighs of satisfaction. But, as much as he desired it, he didn’t dare stay the night in her bed. Not when his dreams could trigger an episode. Hiding his regret, he forced a light tone. “No, it could be a while. I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

  “I want to wait up for you. I don’t mind.”

  He forced himself to walk away from her when what he wanted to do was pull her under the counterpane with him and listen to her soft breaths as she slept. “That isn’t necessary,” he said in a brisk tone. “I shall see you in the morning.”

  Without looking back, he pulled open the adjoining door and stepped through it, closing it behind him with a resolute click.

  …

  The moans woke her on the last night of their wedding trip. At first Kat thought she was dreaming, but as sleep ebbed, she realized the sounds were coming from Rand’s chamber. She rose from the bed and went to the door he always made a point of closing when he left her at night.

  “No!” He cried out in anguish-soaked words. “Stay away! Go away.”

  Alarmed, she turned the knob to enter, only to find it secured. The realization gutted her. He’d locked her out.

  “Bloody hell! Bloody hell.” He bellowed the words through the d
oor.

  She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on as she rushed into the corridor toward Rand’s bedchamber door. When she turned the knob, it pushed open easily. The space was dark and Rand had gone silent, but she could make out Vera standing over something on the bed. As she came closer, she realized it was Rand curled into a tight ball. The dog licked his face with strong, determined strokes. She couldn’t make out Rand’s expression in the dark, but he didn’t appear to be reacting.

  Alarmed, she reached out to touch him. “Rand?”

  “It is best for you to return to your chamber, my lady.”

  She turned at the sound of his valet’s voice, panic rising in her chest. “There is something very wrong with him.”

  “I will attend to his lordship, my lady.” He stood just inside the door. He was haphazardly dressed, as though he’d pulled on his clothes in a rush. How had he gotten here so quickly? “You must return to your chamber.”

  “What is wrong with him?” The words trembled.

  “It is a nightmare.” He spoke in strong firm tones. “He would not want you to be here.”

  “Why ever not? I am his wife. If he is in distress, I should attend him.”

  “I assure you, he is not in any serious peril, but I cannot see to him until you leave, my lady.”

  She looked back to the bed, where Rand began to shake uncontrollably. Tears filled her eyes. “Please help him.”

  “I shall.” He put a gentle hand to her elbow, even though, as a servant, he should never lay a hand on her. “Please go now.”

  She stumbled into the corridor, tears and panic blurring her vision, and rushed back to her room. Slamming her door, she ran to the one that separated her chamber from Rand’s and put an ear to the cool wood. She could make out Burgess admonishing the dog to get off the bed, followed, after a few minutes, by murmured tones of conversation. Rand’s voice. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tenor of his voice was unmistakable. The calm, even tones showed no sign of his earlier distress. Relief weakened her limbs. Maybe it was just a vivid nightmare. With her back to the door, she slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands, crying tears of both relief and worry.

  At breakfast the following morning, he behaved as though nothing was amiss. “I hope I didn’t disturb you too terribly last evening,” he said in almost casual tones as they finished their meal. “Burgess said I woke you.”

  “I was concerned you might be ill.”

  “Not at all.” He drank from his coffee. “I sometimes have wretched dreams…an after effect of the war, I’m afraid. It’s a nuisance, but nothing to be concerned about.” He turned the conversation to other matters, mostly their impending return to Town.

  He spoke of it so casually that she was left to wonder if she’d overreacted and perhaps even dreamt some of it. It was possible; she had been sound asleep when his cries woke her. But the little niggle of worry in her stomach suggested otherwise.

  …

  “Please see to it that all of the chambers are aired.” Kat bustled down the stairs of Randolph House, Rand’s London townhome. Only it was now hers as well, and there was much work to be done to make this dark, dusty cave into a home.

  “Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Deardon, the new housekeeper she’d hired two weeks ago upon their return to Town, hurried down after her.

  “The spaces we use on a regular basis should be cleaned daily, the rarely-used chambers must be attended to weekly.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kat stopped to consider the entry hall. The surfaces now shone and the marble floor gleamed, unlike the first time she’d seen the home, when she’d come to inquire about Toby’s whereabouts. The windows facing the garden had been thrown open and the curtains in the rest of the house had been pulled back to let the sunshine in.

  Mrs. Deardon cleared her throat. “I will need to hire additional staff, my lady.”

  “Yes, of course. Please see to it.” As Mrs. Deardon hurried away, Kat consulted her list of things to be done. Randolph House had suffered greatly for the lack of a mistress, but she intended to rectify that. She stilled for a moment, soaking in the pleasure of finally being Rand’s wife after all these years. He seemed to feel the same, yet he still held part of himself aloof. Although they took all of their meals together and he came to her every evening, Rand never stayed the night in her bed. Once they made love, he’d quietly rise, wish her good evening, and return to his own chamber.

  Cotter, the butler they’d recently hired, interrupted her thoughts to advise Kat that the new furniture she’d ordered had just arrived. She proceeded to supervise the placement of the sofa, tables, and chairs she’d ordered for the grand salon. As the delivery men quit the room, Toby appeared on the threshold dressed in his usual finery of bright colors—a bottle green tailcoat with an orange striped waistcoat beneath.

  “Commanding the troops, I see. You’d have made a fine general.”

  Her heart gladdened at the sight of him. “You’ve returned.” She gave him a warm hug. “Let me look at you. I’ve been so worried about your well-being.” Toby had always been naturally pale and slim, but he did appear to have a bit more color in his face and a few more pounds on his person.

  A pale brow arched. “One wonders how you found the time to worry. I would have thought you were too busy causing the scandal of the Season.”

  “Oh, you refer to my marriage.” Her cheeks warmed. “It was rather unexpected.”

  “You’ll do anything to remain the center of the ton’s attention.” He spoke in a teasing tone. “You and Rand? Who knew?”

  She looped her arm through his. “Come and have tea and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  When they were settled in her sitting room, she told her cousin about her youthful love for Rand. She left out the part about Laurie’s indiscretion with Elena.

  “What a happy ending,” he declared when she finished. “Except for Sinclair, of course. Although I hear he is taking full responsibility for your unexpected defection.”

  “He is?”

  “Most assuredly. Miss Campbell went into fits of pique when she learned of your marriage. She was intent on sullying your name, but Sin wouldn’t allow it. He immediately made it known he’d behaved indiscreetly and that you were quite correct to choose another suitor. Miss Campbell’s mother has banished her to the country for spreading lies. The rumor is Lexie will be made to marry her father’s friend, an elderly baronet who is a widower with six children.” A slow, salacious smile opened up across Toby’s face. “Of course, everyone is on tenterhooks dying to know what horrible indiscretion on Sin’s part drove you into Rand’s arms.”

  She exhaled. “It is good of Laurie to protect my reputation.”

  “You expected otherwise?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. I haven’t spoken to him since I sent the note informing him of my decision to cry off.”

  “You jilted Sin with a note?” His eyes widened. “You wicked girl. The gossips are having a field day. They say you aren’t receiving callers and haven’t called upon anyone since your return.”

  “I’m busy making the house ready to receive visitors…while I work up my courage to face them all. Tomorrow is our first engagement. We are to dine with Rand’s family at the Marquess of Camryn’s home.”

  “I daresay you shall be more popular than ever when you do re-emerge from your dramatic self-imposed exile. Rand is clearly the victor in all of this. He not only gets the ton’s incomparable”—he surveyed the chamber—“but I can’t help noticing that you’ve already brought some life to this old crypt. When Rand lived here alone, it was as dark and somber as a tomb.”

  Pleased that he’d noticed, she gave him a tour of the improvements. She wanted to soften the sharp edges and brighten the dark corners of Rand’s life for him. She showed Toby the red-and-gold Aubusson rug in the dining room and the new leather chairs for the library. When she came to the music room, she pushed the doors open.

  “You’ve had it painted,” he said, tak
ing in the tangerine upper walls which met crisp, white wainscoting. Large windows faced the gardens, letting light fall across the cheery space.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Very much.” He walked to the pianoforte and pressed a key, and the crisp dulcimer tone rippled through the room. “And this has been tuned as well.” He played a few more notes. “They say music can be healing.”

  “Does it help you, Toby?” she asked quietly.

  “Ah, I forgot.” He looked up from the pianoforte with a rueful smile. “You saw my rather dramatic performance the day of the lightning storm.”

  Her chest squeezed. “Where have you been? You were gone for a month.”

  “I met with Doctor Drummond. He has expertise in dealing with melancholia brought on by the battlefield.” He tilted his head, a sad smile in his eyes. “But you mustn’t tell anyone, my dear, lest they think I have windmills in my head.”

  “Melancholia? Is that what ails you? Was Doctor Drummond able to help?”

  “Somewhat. Drummond believes talking about the experience helps, although I find it rather dreadful. It was horrid enough the first time, much less having to relive the nightmare over and over again.” He pressed a few more keys. “I find taking regular exercise helps. Drummond says I must keep myself busy, which is an anathema for an English gentleman who is supposed to revel in his lack of enterprise.”

  “You look well.” Tenderness for her cousin welled in her chest, and then a thought occurred to her. “You say music is healing?”

  “So says Doctor Drummond.”

  “I do wish Rand would play.” Perhaps it would help soothe the intensity of her husband’s nightmares. “He’s such a talented musician.”

  “Rand?” Toby’s forehead wrinkled. “A musician?”

  “Yes. He has an extraordinary gift. He used to bring tears to my eyes when he played the violin or the pianoforte.”

  “Are you certain we are talking about the same person? You did marry Edward Stanhope, the Earl of Randolph, did you not?”