by Vikki Vaught
CHAPTER TEN
They left Gretna Green at nine in the morning, considerably later than Cortland would have liked. Although it was frowned upon to travel on Sunday, he told her he was willing to risk it. Fortunately, their postilion had reluctantly agreed.
As they entered the Lake District, he pointed out the countryside. She had never been that far away from her home before, and she found the treeless mountains fascinating and wanted to know why trees did not grow on them. Cortland explained that they cannot grow above the tree line, and while that made sense, it still looked odd.
As dusk came upon them, they stopped for the night in Ambleside, not as far south as Cortland would have liked. She was relieved he wanted to avoid the bigger towns, since they were more likely to meet a runner there.
The inn where they stopped was small but cozy. At first the innkeeper did not want to let them in, stating he was closed since it was Sunday. After offering him an excessive sum, the man relented and offered them one room for the night. After a cold meal of brown bread, chicken, and cheese in the private dining room, they retired to their room.
When they entered, Mary glanced around. Although it was not as nice as the rooms they had stayed in so far, at least it had clean, white linens on the bed and a thick coverlet. While Cortland built up the fire, she continued to examine her surroundings and grew concerned. There was no privacy screen or commode, just a chamber pot under the bed.
She desperately needed to relieve herself, but was too embarrassed to mention it to her husband. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried to find a comfortable position, hoping he would leave the room. No matter how hard she tried to think of something else, her need had her squirming and tapping her slippers.
Cortland stood and turned to her. “Mary. Are you feeling all right?”
Modesty could only go so far, and she blurted out, “I need a bit of privacy.”
His face flushed a deep red when he must have realized what her problem was. “Of course. I shall go downstairs and give you some time to yourself. I’ll return in thirty minutes.”
He quickly left, and she took care of her most pressing matter and felt much better. Opening her valise, she pulled out her night rail and dressing gown. Once she was undressed, she set about combing her hair. Should she put it in her customary braid, or leave it loose? Cortland had told her that morning he liked her hair.
Making the decision to leave it down, she washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth. With that done, she turned down the bed. The lamp beside the bed cast enough light to read by, so she rummaged through her bag and pulled out her book. After she crawled into bed, she opened it and attempted to read, but found herself dreaming of what she hoped would happen in this bed when Cortland returned instead.
When she heard a tap at the door, she called out, “Who is it?”
“It is I.” Cortland opened it and stepped inside. “Ah, don’t you look lovely. I’m so pleased you kept your beautiful hair down. It’s shining in the lamplight. May I join you?”
“I would like that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cortland took off his jacket and waistcoat. She held her breath as he unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them from his slim hips. Hoping to see more of him than she had last night, she waited for him to pull off his shirt, but he kept it on and climbed onto the other side of the bed.
He took the book from her hands, then reached across her and laid it on the nightstand. The scent of his bergamot cologne wafted around her, and she inhaled deeply as he murmured, “I don’t believe you’ll need this anymore tonight.” Then he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss that grew more passionate as she grew bold and parted her lips for him.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth and soon she was thrusting hers into his, craving the taste of him. Where was this boldness coming from? This man had her head spinning.
Her breathing quickened when he ran his hand over her right breast. He slowly unbuttoned her gown, one button at a time, and with each one he released, he placed a kiss on the exposed skin. Her lower region clenched tighter and tighter as he spread her gown apart, continuing his exploration.
He leaned back on his knees. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
Please don’t stop!
Then he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his hot mouth. With each pull, she felt it all the way to her core. Wanting…no needing to feel his skin, she reached up and reached for the first button on his shirt. To her shock, he pulled away from her. “Please…don’t touch me.”
“What? Why not?” she asked, trying to keep the hurt from her voice.
Oh, Lord, I’m being too brazen.
Cortland looked away and sighed. “Since my return,” she heard agony in his tone, “I can’t bear to have anyone touch my bare skin. That’s why I didn’t take my shirt off. Can you accept that? I want to make love to you, but please don’t try to touch me.”
She studied his furrowed brow, then nodded. “All right. I’ll try not to. Now, will you please kiss me again?”
“With greatest pleasure.” He leaned forward and captured her mouth, devouring it. Soon she forgot all about their conversation as the fire built from his drugging kisses. He lightly pinched her nipple and desire shot through her. Raising the hem of her gown, he tugged it up. She lifted her hips so he could remove it completely, then he tossed it to the floor.
She resisted the temptation to cover herself, now that she was only clad in her thin chemise. His eyes blazed amber in the glow of the lamp light. His breathing sped up as he gazed at her. Pushing up her chemise, inch by slow inch, his hands roamed from her calves to the apex of her thighs. He lifted her leg and kissed the back of her knee. It tickled, and she stifled a giggle as pinpricks danced along her limbs.
He gently pushed her legs apart, and she let them fall open. Looking at her through heavy lidded eyes, he licked his lips. “So pretty,” he murmured. Taking one of his long fingers, he spread her folds and lowered his head.
“What are you doing?” She tried to close her legs, but he kept them open with his shoulders.
“Relax. I promise you’ll enjoy this.” Then he licked her on that little bud she had only discovered the night before. All thoughts of whether it was depraved or not vanished as sharp, brilliant pleasure consumed her. Unable to control herself, she ground her hips against his wicked tongue and his devilish fingers. Tension beyond anything she had ever felt wound tighter and tighter. Her inner muscles clenched around the finger he had pushed inside. Then her very being splintered apart, and she heard a hoarse cry coming from her throat.
Raising up, he positioned his shaft at her opening. He leaned forward and kissed her as he thrust deep inside her passage. Gripping the coverlet in her fisted hands, it was all she could do to keep from slipping them under his shirt. He began to move in and out. Each time going a little deeper, until she did not know where he began and she ended.
His neck muscles bulged. His arms grew rigid as he continued to thrust into her. The walls of her channel clenched as his shaft hit a spot deep inside and her world blasted apart. She saw spots before her eyes as all the muscles in her body went limp. With one final thrust, he cried out, “Yes…yes that’s it. Maaarrrry.”
Then he fell on top of her. His full weight was bearing down on her, but she did not care. She’d never felt this close to another person in her life. No longer able to resist, she wrapped her arms around him and let sleep carry her away.
****
Realizing he must be crushing her petite frame, he finally made his body move and rolled off her, pulling her into his arms. Mary remained asleep. Poor darling, he had worn her out. He lay with her in the crook of his shoulder, stroking her soft hair.
Why could he not bear to have his skin touched?
Ever since that last set of captors, he’d had the problem. Although he craved Mary’s touch, when her fingers had brushed him, he had wanted to recoil. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes.
At last, he
relaxed and his eyes grew heavy. Last night he had slept so soundly he had not had a nightmare. He prayed they would stay away again tonight. So far, he had not had one since before they left London. It was probably because his mind was preoccupied with saving Mary.
Once they arrived at his estate, then he would not chance staying all night with her. He sighed deeply because he would miss having her next to him. His body relaxed and his eyes grew heavy as he lost his tenacious hold on consciousness and fell asleep.
When he awoke the next morning, Mary was curled up against his side. He loved the feel of her sweet body next to his. For the first time since he’d returned, he felt truly at peace. He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d made it through another night without a nightmare. Gently pulling his arm from around her, he slipped from the bed. Her nose twitched, but then her features smoothed again, and she continued sleeping.
Going over to the hearth, he crouched down and rekindled the fire, then quietly went through his morning ablutions as Mary slept on. Although he hated to disturb her, they needed to get an early start. Once he finished dressing, he leaned down and kissed her sweet mouth until she awoke.
She stretched. “That was a pleasant way to greet my day.” Glancing up at him, she muttered, “I suppose I have to get up. Oh, well, no more rest for the wicked, and we were very wicked last night.” Looking shocked, she whispered, “Goodness, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
A blush colored her cheeks and he laughed. “Anything that happens between us can never be wicked, darling. Now, I’m going downstairs to order breakfast. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll meet you in the private parlor in twenty.” She gave him a saucy grin. He loved this playful side of Mary. He had never expected it, but he was glad she had such a wonderful sense of humor.
Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her nose. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Wallingford.” Laughing, he straightened up and hurried from the room.
An hour later, they were on the road. The weather turned nasty, bringing colder temperatures and blustery wind, which threatened to push the vehicle off the road at times. Thunder broke the silence and lightning flashed in the sky as the post chaise traveled further south toward his home. Just when it looked like they would have to pull over, the storm broke.
Even with the weather, they made good time that day and the next. Late in the evening of the third day, they turned onto the drive of his estate. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the graveled drive. He was pleased to see it so well-maintained.
As the residence came into view, moonlight cast a glow on the sandstone walls of his childhood home. Tears threatened as he caught the first glimpse of the house in almost three years. Perhaps, now that he was here, he would fully recover from all he had endured, and the nightmares would end. Hope filled his soul.
He glanced down at his sleeping wife and smiled, relieved that at last their long and exhausting journey had come to an end. As the post chaise came to a halt, he whispered, “Mary, time to wake up. We’ve finally arrived.”
She sat up straight and blinked her eyes several times. “Oh, sorry I fell asleep. I can’t wait to see your home.”
“I wish we could have arrived while it was still light out, so you could actually see it. I’ll show it to you tomorrow morning.” The postilion opened the door and let down the step.
The front door opened, and his butler came down the steps to greet them. Cortland climbed from the conveyance and assisted Mary out.
He smiled at his butler. “Giles, good to see you again. This is my wife. We’ve had a very tiring journey, so I hope you have our rooms ready.”
The butler bowed, then said, “I received your letter yesterday, and all is as you requested.” Giles bowed to Mary, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your recent nuptials.”
Cortland interjected, “Thank you, Giles. Are my wards settled in the nursery?”
“They are, sir,” he replied. “Cook is pleased to have the young ones to cook for again. The entire household was overjoyed when we learned you had survived and were returning home.”
The postilion coughed. Good Lord, he’d forgotten all about him. He quickly paid the young man and included a little extra. He had truly been an excellent driver. The man bowed, then mounted the horse and drove away.
Cortland placed his hand on the small of Mary’s back. “Come. Let me show you to our rooms, so you can retire. You must be exhausted.”
She gave him a grateful smile as he led her inside. When they stepped into the entryway, Cortland took in the gleaming rose marble tiled floor, and the dark wood table polished to a shine. It did his heart good to see that his servants had kept the place in good order.
Hearing footsteps, he glanced to the back of the entryway and saw Mrs. Clifford bustling forward to greet them. Her rosy, round face had him smiling. She’d always been a favorite of his. She stopped in front of him and beamed. “It’s so wonderful to have you home at last. I had your rooms aired out and cleaned yesterday, and the maids are lighting the fires. Would you like tea and sandwiches while they finish up?”
“That would be delightful. Let me introduce you to my wife.” He turned to Mary. “This is the housekeeper, Mrs. Clifford. She has taken care of the house for as long as I can remember.”
Mary smiled graciously, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you, along with the rest of the staff.”
“And I as well,” replied the housekeeper. “If you will go up to the drawing room, I’ll have refreshments sent up right away. Your rooms should be toasty warm in twenty minutes.”
Cortland smiled at the little bundle of energy; she’d not changed at all. Peace rolled over him. At last…he was home. “Very good, Mrs. Clifford.” He offered Mary his arm, and she slid her small, gloved hand through the crook of his elbow.
Smiling, he led her upstairs, eager to see the familiar room where he’d spent so many happy evenings with his parents and sister while growing up. An ache formed in his heart at the thought of his parents. Both his father and his mother had died within six months. He’d been close to them, and still missed them to this day.
Shaking off those dark thoughts, he escorted his wife into the drawing room. When he entered, waves of nostalgia washed over him. He could picture his mother sitting on the settee with her embroidery, his father sitting in his favorite chair by the hearth reading, and his sister at the pianoforte. Many happy memories and poignant ones as well. The room had not changed at all.
“Cortland, are you all right?” Mary asked.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, my dear. Just remembering the last time I saw my mother. It was here in this room after the holidays in 1799. I left early the next day for northern Italy to join the fighting. She died a few months later.”
Mary’s eyes filled with sympathy as she said, “I’m sure it was devastating to not be there when she passed. How about your father; when did you lose him?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “He died the fall before. We were out riding the property, and he had a heart seizure. One minute we were talking, and the next, he clutched his chest and toppled from his horse. By the time I made it to his side, he was already gone.”
“Oh, my, how horrible,” she bemoaned. “I can only imagine the pain of seeing that happen and not being able to do anything.”
He sighed deeply. “I felt so helpless. There’d been no warning at all. My father had never been sick a day in his life. Something went out of my mother that day. She mourned him deeply, and had not begun to recover from losing him when she fell ill shortly after I left. Thank God my sister was with her when she passed.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” The door opened and a maid came in. After she set the tea tray on the table, she curtsied and left them alone. That broke off their intense discussion, which was just as well. Too many emotions churned in his gut. Mary poured him a cup of the hot brew, then
filled a plate with sandwiches and handed it to him.
For the next fifteen minutes, they enjoyed the light refreshments and drank their tea. When conversation resumed, he kept it light, giving her some of the history of his home. It had, at one time, been part of his uncle’s estate, but since it was unentailed, his grandfather had given it to his father at the time of his marriage.
Mrs. Clifford came in and let him know their chambers were ready. He escorted Mary to their suite, and at her bedchamber door, he kissed her cheek, then bade her a goodnight. She looked disappointed, but he needed to be alone tonight, since his senses were being bombarded with so many memories. Plus, he did not want to risk being in her bed when he had a nightmare, since it was no longer necessary that they sleep together. Turning, he walked down the corridor and went into his lonely room.
****
Once Mary entered her chamber, she sighed and her shoulders slumped, disappointed that he had left her alone. She would miss him tonight. She had gotten used to him holding her through the night, not to mention his lovemaking. Now that they were at his home, he seemed distant. She hoped he would not build a wall between them. Perhaps it was because their conversation had stirred up too many emotions for him.
It must have been so difficult to have both of his parents die within six months. She would assume that was why he withdrew and pray he would return to his amiable self on the morrow.
Mary glanced around the spacious, well-appointed bedroom. There was a large bed with a soft blue counterpane spread upon it and a half dozen decorative pillows against the headboard. The arrangement was pleasing to the eye and looked exceedingly comfortable. Two cushioned chairs with a table between them were positioned in front of the fireplace. A merry fire glowed, warming the room. Two mullioned windows were on the outside wall with a large clothes bureau in between. Her meager wardrobe would not take up half the space.
