“Oh, Riordan. I made a pie. With Mary’s help, of course. We sat and peeled the apples, she showed me how to make a crust and roll it out. Flour was flying every which way! She had to return to the inn, so I assembled it and baked it myself.” She hugged him. “I learned to light the stove, and I followed Mary’s directions closely and the pie turned out wonderfully.”
He lifted his nose and inhaled. Apple and cinnamon. He hadn’t noticed it when he first entered the cottage, for he was too wrapped up in feminine softness and luscious lips. “Let’s have a piece while it is still warm.”
Her brows furrowed. “It might spoil supper, but it isn’t much, a chicken and potato soup….”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Won’t spoil my supper. I love apple pie. Let’s see this wondrous achievement.”
With a broad smile, she hurried to the kitchen. Riordan removed his coat and rolled up the cuffs of his shirt, then removed his neckcloth. In such a short period, they’d become comfortable in each other’s company, enough that he could relax like this. Or walk about the room in nothing but his drawers. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Sabrina laid small plates and forks on the table. Nothing matched, for they were donations from various households in the town. Finally, she brought out the pie and a knife. Never had he seen her smile as broadly, and his heart hitched in his chest at the sight. She sat the pie on the table. It did look delicious; the crust was golden and small wisps of steam swirled from the slits on the top.
He took his seat, eagerly anticipating the treat. God, he could become used to this. There was a lot to be said for domesticity and all the benefits it brought.
Sabrina served him a generous slice, then waited for him to taste it. His fork cut through the flaky crust with ease. He lifted the fork and placed the pie in his mouth, savoring the warm apple and the tang of the cinnamon and nutmeg on his tongue—then his throat closed over and he choked. He couldn’t swallow, so he spit the half chewed pie on the table.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Sabrina cried worriedly.
“Salt,” he croaked. “You added salt instead of sugar.”
She grabbed his fork, cut off a small piece and brought it to her mouth. Her pink tongue darted out to taste it and she grimaced. “Oh, no. You see, they’re in glass containers, I must have mistaken….” A giggle slipped from her throat as she laid the fork on the table. “Salt instead of sugar.” Sabrina did the most wondrous thing: she began to laugh. Not her usual rare and brief giggle, but a full-on laugh. She pointed at him while holding her stomach with her other arm. “You…you should have seen your face.” Another peal of laughter escaped her.
She was beautiful. Happy. By the time he’d vaulted from his chair and came to face her, she was already wiping tears from her eyes. Riordan clasped her arms. “I’ve never heard a more beautiful sound. Do you remember what I said, about how I longed to see you laugh for the pure joy of it?” She nodded. “You’re doing it now, and it is music to my ears.”
“I ruined the pie….”
“Ruin a hundred pies and it would not matter to me. I would rather see you happy and taking delight in life.” He kissed her. It didn’t take long for the heat to flare between them, and he took the kiss deeper, tangling his tongue with hers. All thoughts of taking things slowly dissipated into nothingness. He trailed his lips across her cheek, down her supple neck, and up again to nibble on her earlobe. “When Mary comes later, inform her she will not be needed tomorrow night,” he rasped.
“Why?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’ll be preparing you for bed. And if you ask me politely, I will be joining you in it.”
A moan escaped her, which merely stoked the roaring flames within him. Riordan pulled her close and she softened all around him. “I want to be patient, and I will if you ask me.” He clasped her breast, his thumb running across her erect nipple. “Come with me to the bedroom. Let me give you pleasure like you gave me. If you like it, tomorrow night we will do more.” He cupped her rear and brought her in tight against his erection. “But only if you wish it. Tell me, Sabrina. Put voice to your desires.”
To his utter surprise, she reached behind him and grasped his ass, squeezing it until he moaned. “Come with me to the bedroom. Give me pleasure.”
Riordan did not need any further encouragement. Sweeping her up into his arms, she squealed as he ran into the bedroom. Mittens, curled up on the rug, lifted her head to give them a nonchalant look, then continued her nap. Riordan slowly lowered Sabrina to the floor, keeping her close against him. She stared into his eyes searchingly, as if asking what comes next.
“I’m going to slowly remove your clothes. How many layers is up to you. Agreed?”
She nodded, biting her lower lip. Sabrina wore a large apron over her light gray wool dress. He moved behind her to work the knot free. Considering what she’d revealed about her marriage, it was a safe bet she’d never reached a sexual peak. Why would she? Her husband was a reprobate and a rapist. “I am going to caress and kiss every bit of exposed skin. Suckle your breasts, and as I do, insert my fingers inside you and stroke.” Sabrina gave a sharp inhalation of breath at his wicked words.
The apron fell to the floor. Riordan encircled his arm across her chest, leaning her against him. “Tell me to cease and I will. You have my promise. Any time you’re uncomfortable, let me know.”
“How experienced are you?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“Not as much as you may think. But I’m a quick learner. I have learned this: sex is an intimate act, and when emotions are in the mix it makes the experience all the more intoxicating. When you touched me the other night? I’ve never experienced such soaring heights before. Not with any woman. Only with you.”
“Oh. How wonderful,” she whispered.
He kissed the crown of her head. “It will be for you as well. I know it.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” She laughed brokenly.
“I will say this once and never mention it again: your relations with your brutal and cruel husband were not based in intimacy or emotion, but in hatred and humiliation. Let us banish those memories forever.”
A great sob left her throat, and he hugged her tighter, holding her close as she calmed and softened in his arms. He turned her about to face him and kissed her tenderly.
Breaking the kiss, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes. Let us banish the memories.”
Nodding, he slowly unbuttoned her dress down to her waist. Already the creamy mounds of her breasts were visible, peeking out from the top of her corset. The sight caused him to harden further. He pushed the dress off her shoulders, then pulled it down past her waist until it pooled at her feet. Her corset was not the heavily boned one that women in the upper classes wore, but of a malleable linen. It had front laces, and small blue roses sewn into the stays.
He next removed her two petticoats. Sabrina stepped out of her shoes. She wore blue knee-length drawers and white stockings. He got down on one knee and glided his fingers up her shapely leg to untie the strings of her stockings. Placing her foot on his thigh, he pulled off one stocking and tossed it aside. Sabrina curled her toes and kneaded his thigh. He did the same with the other leg.
“Shall I remove more?” he questioned.
“Not tonight. Mary will be by soon. Will it be all right? Are you able to…to…”
“Gain access to your most feminine attributes?” He moved his hand up her leg and slipped it between them. She gasped at the contact as his fingers delved into the slit in her drawers and brushed by her curls. “I will manage.”
He stood and led her to the bed. It was not wide at all, barely room for the both of them. But if he lay on his side, it could be accomplished. Once they were on the bed, he skimmed his fingers along the top of her breasts, across her bare shoulders and down her arms. Her breath caught and held as he tugged at the laces
at the front of her corset, loosening them. When he kissed the tops of her breasts she exhaled, and it ended on a sensual moan. He kissed the hollow of her throat, moving upward until their lips met. Heat flared and he plundered, giving all he had, everything he felt.
Already this had moved beyond any experience with other women. The desire was inexplicable. Never-ending. Complete.
Breaking the kiss, he started removing the pins from her hair. Sabrina gazed up at him, her expression, though tense, also showed trust. Again he was humbled. Gathering the pins and laying them on the small table next to the bed, Riordan ran his hands through her golden-brown locks. As silky as her skin. He laid the strands across the pillow. “You are beautiful,” he murmured.
Her eyes glistened. “Thank you. Though I’m not as firm as I once—”
He laid the tips of his fingers on her lips. “That you are four years older means nothing to me. Nothing should matter in this bed but you and I. The pleasure we give each other.”
Trailing his fingers downward, they tangled in the laces once again. With slow deliberation, he pulled them apart. Sabrina’s ample breasts rose and fell with each exhale. Dear God, they were stunning. Large enough to fill his hand and more. The nipples were coral pink and pebbled.
He cupped one gently, his thumb brushing past her nipple again and again. Sabrina moaned, her back arching slightly. The sight of her pleasure was more than he could bear. He leaned in and suckled her, squeezing her ample breast as he did.
“Oh!” she gasped. His heart nearly burst when she slid her hand at the nape of his neck and pulled him in closer. His free hand trailed down her side, taking a leisurely journey across her curves. Her legs parted, and a smile curved across his lips as his fingers found her dampened curls. Parting her folds, he inserted two fingers. Tight. Oh, so tight.
Sabrina writhed and he stilled—had he hurt her? When another moan escaped her, he continued his ministrations. As he stroked in and out of her, his thumb rubbed her sensitive nub while he continued to lick and suckle her breast.
“Heavens…what…”
“Let yourself go, Sabrina. Embrace the sensations. Own your desire.”
The words must have been what she needed to hear, for she relaxed and the moans increased in volume. He watched her, committing this to memory: her eyes closed, her hips slowly undulating with each stroke of his fingers. Yes. She was close.
With a final arch of her back she cried out, her body shuddering as ripples of pleasure moved through her with her release. God, he was ready to explode. He pulled his hand of out her, unbuttoned the fall of his trousers, reached in and stroked himself, once, twice, three… He groaned, his body shook. The damned intensity of this. What would it be like to be deep inside her heat? His head hit the pillow and he pulled Sabrina next to him. She still shook, her breathing as harsh and raw as his. He kissed her forehead. “Are you all right?”
Chapter 22
All right? How could she ever be all right after this? Tears formed in her eyes. She’d had no idea, no inkling, that it could be like this between a man and woman. There was such tender concern in his voice. She laid her head on his chest, his heart beating rapidly, matching the rhythm of her own. “I am in awe,” she whispered.
“As am I,” he replied, his tone husky.
“Did you…”
“Make myself come? Yes. Watching you reach your peak aroused me like never before. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She hugged him. “Oh, Riordan.”
They lay in each other’s arms, and Sabrina was content as never before. Safe. Treasured.
“We had best clean up. Mary will be here before we know it.” She moved to sit up, but Riordan laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Stay, I’ll return in a moment.”
“Could we wait a couple of nights before asking Mary not to see to me in the evening?” His brows furrowed. “I want to savor what happened tonight, before we continue. Perhaps do this again”—she gave him a sultry smile—“for I enjoyed it immensely.”
A smile touched his sensuous lips. “Whatever you desire.”
Sabrina clasped his hand and kissed it. “I desire you, sir.”
Riordan groaned. “Minx.”
Laughing as he left the room, Sabrina burrowed into the blankets, a contented smile firmly in place. Was it always like this? The pleasure they had given each other from touching…what would actual sex bring? She wanted to know, but wanted to learn in a deliberate manner. Riordan would agree. Some men wouldn’t. They would simply take…as Pepperdon… No. She dismissed him outright. Rot in hell. Stay there. Never enter my thoughts again.
How many minutes passed, she’d no idea. Riordan entered the room carrying a small basin and a flannel cloth. “I placed the soup on the stove. We will eat once we put ourselves to rights.”
He made room for the basin on the small table, sat on the bed, dipped the cloth in the water, and placed it between her legs. The warmth of the flannel caressed her folds. He’d heated water for her. How thoughtful. She sighed with pleasure as he stroked her between the slit in her drawers. He leaned in and kissed her. Deeply. Stirring the passion between them. But before it galloped out of control, he ended it.
When he assisted her to stand, Sabrina was surprised to find her legs still shook. Leisurely, and with great care, he dressed her, leaving off the petticoats. As she reached for the hairpins, Riordan shook his head. “Leave it down. Please.”
“Mary will know….”
“Let her.” He winked.
They were sitting at the table eating when Mary knocked and entered. “Good evening. My, you’re having supper late, what—” Stopping in her tracks, she looked back and forth between them. She smiled, and Sabrina could not stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks.
What Riordan had read to her about Miss Featherstone’s seduction on the balcony had just happened to her not an hour before. Last night she’d read that the ex-soldier hero also…kissed her there. Between her legs. “Feasted,” the book said. How deeply intimate. Would she enjoy it as Miss Featherstone did? She glanced at Riordan, and he winked once again. Oh, yes. Without a doubt.
“Join us, Mary. Have a cup of tea and a buttermilk biscuit,” Riordan said.
“Oh no, sir. I couldn’t.”
“Mary, please?” Sabrina asked. She wanted her friend and Riordan to know each other better.
“Very well.” Mary removed her cloak and sat at the table, making herself at home. She poured a cup of tea, and refreshed theirs. Once she finished, she spread apple jelly on her biscuit.
“I’ve asked Mary to call me by my first name. We have moved past the lady and maid roles into a far more satisfying bond. I’m also leaving behind the ‘lady’ designation permanently. It belongs in my past. For now, I am Sabrina Black.”
“By law, you can call yourself Lady Pepperdon for the rest of your life,” Riordan said.
“I could.” She sipped her tea. “I choose not to.”
“And what of your future?” Riordan asked.
She stilled. Both Riordan and Mary stared at her, waiting for her response. Why would he bring this up here? “I’m not sure yet.” Before she could stop the words, she blurted, “Tell me what your salary is?”
Mary took a sharp inhale of breath; no doubt sorry she’d sat at the table. Yes, Sabrina was being unconscionably rude.
“I’m university educated, as I told you, and my yearly salary reflects such. The board is paying me forty-six pounds per annum. About the salary of a clerk at a prestigious firm. I have this cottage rent-free. Also the use of a part-time housekeeper-cook, Mrs. Ingersoll, free of charge. It’s an ideal situation for a middle class lad such as myself.” His words were clipped, his expression annoyed.
“How tactless of me. But I’m curious about you. Your past. You’ve told me next to nothing even though I have asked bef
ore this.”
“There isn’t much to tell.” He shrugged. “There is time yet to consider all options.”
She met his gaze. “What options?” She shouldn’t have started this discussion on his salary, but blast it, she was tired of him revealing next to nothing about himself. Also, she longed for him to mention staying married as he’d done at the registrar’s. Say it, please.
Riordan reached for another biscuit. “It’s your future, Sabrina. Your choice. The end of the three month period may be a better time to discuss it.”
How embarrassing. She’d made a fool of herself. Biting her lower lip to stem any tremor in her voice, she tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet. “I believe I’ll retire.” She hurried from the room. Mary followed right on her heels and closed the door behind her.
“Oh, Mary. I feel entirely stupid.” She sat on the edge of the bed.
“What happened between you?” Mary asked gently as she sat next to Sabrina.
“Something wondrous. I’m caught up in emotions that are carrying me in four different directions. I love him. I’m beginning to believe he does not feel the same. Not completely. There are secrets, I know it.”
Mary took her trembling hand. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Even tonight, when I first entered the room. If it’s not love, it is very close to it.” Mary sighed. “Let me explain an important fact about men: for the most part, they are confused by their emotions, reluctant to acknowledge them, as if doing so would make them weak and vulnerable. I’m not sure such is the case with Mr. Black, for he appears all confidence in most situations.”
Mary slipped her arm about Sabrina’s shoulder. “Perhaps he is simply allowing you to come to your own decision. You’ve been through so much. Why not allow things to unfold naturally? Do not worry for the future. I’m positive he will tell you all you wish to know soon. Let’s say you wish to stay married. With his income and your settlement, you can both live comfortably enough.”
“What about you?”
“My dear, your late husband was a complete rotter, but he did pay his servants well. I’ve saved a pretty penny the past decade. A cottage by the sea for the two of us? Good. Staying with the fine looking schoolmaster? Even better. How thrilling to actually have a choice. Know that I’m with you whatever you decide. For that is my preference. My choice.”
Marriage with a Proper Stranger Page 21
