"Well, let's just start with these couple of inches, and let you gradually have the rest."
Her eyes widened, but he stuck out his tongue and pounced. She giggled happily, and squirmed to get the impressive inches she was really desperate for.
"My dear Dr. Sanderson, you're quite wicked after all," she murmured as his hands and lips did the most delightful things to her entire body.
"Anything to please the love of my life."
"Anything?"
He lifted his head to look at her, his expression worried. "Why, what did you have in mind?"
"Oh, more of the same, for sure. But I thought maybe-"
She twisted herself around until her head was parallel with his pulsing flesh and began to lick him too. Each cradled their head against one thigh, and soon Blake had to spin her around again as he placed her hips on the edge of the bed, spread her legs wide, and filled her with a teasing slowness that had her begging for all of him urgently.
"It was a wonderful idea, darling, but I need to concentrate every effort on keeping my wits about me to please you."
"You do, so very much," she panted. "Can't you see it? My whole body quivers for your touch, inside and out."
He looked down at her, felt her move under him. She was indeed all his, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life. She stared up at him, her eyes full of longing, and knew she could never love another as much as she adored Blake.
As he slipped in to the very top of her womb, she almost fainted at the delight and rocketed off the bed, driving him still further. They both climaxed with a roar, and Blake began to laugh. "Well, I think that woke the whole house."
She giggled. "Most of Somerset, I should think."
They howled with laughter as one of the dogs in the kennel began to bay at the moon.
"Oh, stop, it's too funny," she giggled, tears streaming down her face.
But his expression soon grew serious. "This isn't funny, though, is it?" he said moving his hips once more.
She gazed at him in awe. "Again?" she gasped.
"As much as you like, want or need."
"I want, very much. And I love it. Love you. Just don't set the dogs off again."
"Why not? You have no idea what it feels like when you laugh when I'm-"
She pulled his mouth to hers hard, and rippled her hips. She didn't release him until he had groaned his passion into her mouth, and then lay trembling.
"Lord, that was incredible," he panted, scarcely able to roll off her and onto his side. "Just as well you stopped my mouth. That would have woken half of England."
"When we have a house of our own we can do as we like, but for now-"
"There is the wedding trip to look forward to, though. Bath and the Peak District, and wherever else you'd like. You have only to say. Brighton, London, Lyme?" he asked.
"We don't have to decide all at once. We'll head to Bath and see from there."
"I adore the Jeromes, but I can't wait to have you all to myself again."
She grinned. "Me neither."
"Soon, Arabella. Soon," Blake promised.
The darkly-clad figure stood outside Arabella's window, gazing up at the shadows produced by the flickering candlelight. He knew where Arabella was, what she was doing, who she was doing it with… but he would have her in the end.
The doctored meat had quickly silenced the dogs, would leave them to sleep for hours. His friendship with the silly little blonde serving maid Molly granted him access to the house day or night.
The stupid bitch would get what she deserved sooner or later. For now he just had to keep her sweet, her legs and mouth occupied so she would give in to him and do as he asked, and not run telling tales. Then he could make his move.
"Soon, Arabella. Soon," he vowed.
Now all he had to do pick one of the Jerome sisters as his intended, and the rest would fall into place….
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Blake thought he would go demented on Thursday as he had to withstand hours and hours of rehearsals, gift opening and last-minute packing for their honeymoon.
"We don't have to leave straight away, you know," he said to Arabella. "We can spend one more night here if you're tired after all of the festivities."
"I don't know. I'd like to head off immediately, but I don't want to hurt their feelings either. Not when they've done so much for us already."
"You're afraid of the war, aren't you?" he asked quietly, cradling her head against his shoulder.
"I am. I can't bear the thought of you being taken from me."
"I need to do my duty, though, if they ask. I mean, I can buy us some time with us being recently married, but not indefinitely."
"Perhaps the thing to do is ask for permission as an officer to bring me with you."
"Oh no," Blake rasped. "It's bad enough having to endure such harsh conditions myself, without making my gorgeous young wife into a camp follower.
"No, I would just as soon leave you here with the Jeromes. Or, you could stay with Charlotte. She seems to be taking the prospect of Thomas going again with a great deal of alarm. Much worse than I would have thought considering she's such a brave and determined young woman."
"Well, she has a young child at home."
"But Sarah is already packing up Alexander and asking Charlotte to look after Little John for her."
Arabella stared at him in horror. "She's mad! She's barely out of childbed. And I thought Alexander was a merchant, and originally French, an emigre, not an English soldier at all."
Blake shook his head. "I don't understand any of this myself. All I know is I'll put off going for as long as I can. But if Charlotte is to be left behind with everyone's children, she could could use your help."
"Everyone's?"
"Clifford is planning to go to. Vanessa insists on accompanying him whether the army gives him permission or not. Jonathan and Pamela say if they all the Rakehells are going, they are too."
"Not Josephine and Henry as well?"
"No. Henry never served, and Josephine is having a difficult pregnancy. She's miscarried in the past. She isn't going to be fit to look after Clifford's children, so Charlotte has drawn the short straw."
"Well, she and Sarah should stay. I wish we could all stay."
"I know. We just have to hope for the best. Anyway, enough talk of the war. We need to talk about our wedding. Is there anything missing at all?"
"Nothing I can think of. I have everything for the morning. Old, new, borrowed and blue. You?"
He grinned. "Come upstairs and I'll show you."
"Isn't it supposed to be bad luck to see the bride the morning of the wedding?"
"An old wives' tale. We're going to do nothing but make our own luck from now on," he said, swinging her up into his arms and carrying her out of the small blue parlor where they had sought refuge as the rest of the family finished the last-minute preparations in the chapel.
Since Arabella had not had time to send to London for Blake's favourite gown, she had decided she would wear the white and gold one from the night he had proposed. He would wear his gold waistcoat and cravat.
He brought his wedding outfit into her room despite her shock at the break with tradition, and now hung it up in the mirrored wardrobe next to her gown.
"Nothing short of an earthquake is going to stop this wedding, darling. So please stop worrying, and help me with this bodice before I rip it," he breathed as he tugged at the fastenings of the pale blue muslin she was clad in.
It whispered to the floor, and her other garments soon followed. As soon she was completely bare and he stood her in front of the mirror.
"Look how lovely you are," he breathed against her ear, one large hand splayed across her stomach, while the other fondled one breast.
She blushed. "Blake, really, it can't be decent."
"No secrets between us any longer," he said, teasing her nipple to crested fullness. "I loved and wanted you from the minute I saw your face, found out y
ou were unmarried. We belong together. Look how we fit."
She gasped as he bent her forward slightly and then filled her to the brim with his pulsating hardness. The sight of Blake making love to her reflected in the mirror aroused her unbearably, and she began to climax. His hand slid from her stomach to her mound, and he watched her expression, the look in her eyes in the mirror, and knew he was truly lost. His orgasm surged forward like the rushing tide, and he trembled uncontrollably.
"Oh, Lord, hold us up," he urged raggedly, grasping her hands to flatten them against the smooth cool wood of the mirrored wardrobe door before clutching her tightly once more and pounding into her.
Her arms nearly buckled with the force of his ardour but she forced her eyes to remain open to watch her response and his. He was glorious, and she pushed her buttocks back against his hips as he drove ever deeper until they climaxed with prolonged and earth-shattering shudders.
Then he weakly grabbed her and carried her to the bed.
"That was- Oh, words fail me."
She laughed and kissed him. "Then let's see if I can find anything else to do to render you speechless."
Blake was silent for the rest of the night apart from groans of delight, thrilled that his future wife had such a vivid imagination.
Arabella was the one rendered speechless the next day, however, when she had an unexpected visitor in the form of Rosalie Stanton.
After their magical night together full of surprises and love, Blake and Arabella had dragged themselves from the bed to bathe and change for their ceremony.
He had been right, of course. Everything was perfect. The Jeromes had all seen to that, with some help from the Rakehells and their wives.
Thomas had agreed to be groomsman, and Ellen and Georgina were maids of honour, paired off with the two Neville cousins, who had taken her news much better than she had ever anticipated.
Mr. Jerome had given her away, and at the end of the service, performed by Jonathan in the ornate family chapel decorated in red velvet and gold, there almost wasn't a dry eye at the ceremony.
Blake had put the ring on her finger and kissed Arabella until they were both dizzy. She had known in an instant that this had been meant to be from the first.
They belonged together, loved each other heart and soul. Nothing would ever separate them again, she vowed.
The wedding breakfast and dance were set up in the ballroom. There were the usual speeches and toasts, which the newlyweds sat through impatiently, eager to be alone with each other once more.
Neither had seen the other looking so wonderful. The ensembles they wore were the same as they had been the evening they'd first declared their love for one another, but the nights they'd spent in each other's arms had made them absolutely radiant with joy.
Philip had been most enthusiastic in his congratulations, and said, "Do us a favour, will you? Just go now. Never mind the party. Start your wedding trip now."
"Philip, I never took you for such an old romantic," Blake laughed, all thoughts of their former rivalry evaporating in the face of his happiness.
"Not romantic. A fatalist. We're all running out of time."
Geoffrey Parks strolled up to offer his congratulations. "Sorry I can't stay longer, but I have my marching orders. Coming, Philip?"
Arabella raised her brows in surprise. "Leaving so soon?"
"Young Parks here is in need of a lift to Town, and I have some pressing business in Hertfordshire which can't wait."
"Hope she's worth it, whoever she is," Arabella said with a wink.
"Not this one, but soon…"
She stared after him. Rake? Madman more like. Nothing he said ever seemed to make any sense any more.
He took her hand and kissed it. "Look after yourself. And remember, appearance is not reality. Trust in Blake. He loves you. Goodbye, and good luck."
A strange uneasy feeling ran through her. "We will see each other again, won't we, Philip?"
He bowed. "That's up to you, and the gods."
She turned to speak to Blake, but he had gone to speak to one of the servants.
She saw Molly the little serving maid peep into the room and nod. To her? One of the Jeromes? She thought Molly was looking at her cousin Adam, but then she beckoned to her.
Arabella went over to the door of the ballroom. "If you please, Miss. There's someone here to see you."
"Who is it, Molly?"
"They didn't give a name. They're in the small parlor."
"Where is Dr. Sanderson?"
"He has a patient in the library."
She frowned. On his wedding day?
She sighed. She had no reason to be upset. It had to be an emergency. "Very good. Thank you."
She went to the small sitting room, and came face to face with Rosalie Stanton. She tried to leave the room, but the older woman grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her in, slamming the door shut behind her.
"So you've married him, you little fool. How long do you think you can keep him? A man like that, who can have his pick of any woman? Any of the experienced and skilled professional women he works with at the clinic, for example. You're outclassed, my dear. You couldn't hold a candle to me."
"I'm not listening to this. He's good and decent, and he's married me, not you."
"He's lied to you. Carried on with me right under yours and Leonore's nose. And you've met a few of his other conquests. Just a handful. I can hunt up the rest, if you like. We can fill the Upper and Lower Rooms at Bath," she said with a toss of her head.
Arabella's eyes flashed fire. "Did that include the charming Lady Cavendish?" she asked, thinking of the faded beauty who had to be at least sixty.
"Now that you mention it," she said with a smirk, "I think so."
Arabella stared at her, wondering what was so strange about her appearance. She looked at the pearls she was wearing. They were a mirror image of her own. Surely Blake hadn't...
"I came here to warn you, if you consummate the relationship-"
Arabella was the one who smirked now. "Is that why you're here? You're too late on that score. Far too late."
Rosalie sucked in a furious breath. She could see from Arabella's expression that she wasn't lying. She opened her pearl-encrusted reticule and put down the pocket watch and cravat pin and signet ring that Molly had taken out of his jewellery box to lend credence to Rosalie's story.
"In that case, I wish you joy of the philandering swine. You can give him these things that he left the last time he came to visit."
She swept out of the room, leaving Arabella staring in horror at the small pile. She snatched them up and stuffed them in her little pearl reticule, and went in search of her husband. Husband… Liar more like. She was so distraught that Philip's warning had flown right out of her head. The library…. Molly had said the library.
Leonore had memorised her instructions carefully. She was to keep him chatting until Arabella came to find him. The news Arabella got from Rosalie would be enough to have her seek out Blake for a confrontation, and then she would overhear the intended devastating lie. She managed a minute of small talk before delivering her coup de grace.
"Well, if you as a doctor and my lover don't know what's wrong with me, you don't deserve to practise medicine. I'm pregnant, of course."
He laughed loudly. "Please, I've had enough of the games and jokes. The last I saw of you, you made me waste my time taking you to your house and arguing with you. That alone could have cost a young girl her life. So just get out of my way."
He tried to side-step her, but she snatched his arm and held him in place. "You can take that view now, but as soon as your wife hears what I have to say-"
"Arabella loves and trusts me."
"Hah. Do you think she will believe you, when she saw us leave the ball together, has seen our cozy tete a tetes?"
Blake looked at her coldly. "My wife and I have absolute confidence in one another. She knows all about you. I have nothing to hide. Moreover, Arabella and I hav
e been inseparable for months. You cannot possibly think she would ever believe that I'm the father of your child."
Arabella, about to enter the room, froze at the last few words her husband had uttered. Her throat constricted, and her stomach heaved.
She could see the person being addressed quite clearly, for the woman was in her husband's arms. Leonore.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 92
