by J. Jay Kamp
* * *
The next day she wasn’t able to see him. He’d gone hunting, or at least that’s what the steward, Mr Scott, had told Elizabeth when she’d gotten up. She awaited his return all the day long, and when Killiney didn’t come back with James until late, she got up early to greet him the next morning—only to miss him once again. They’d ridden out in a miserable rain, he and James had. They’d gone to visit the neighbors this time.
Indeed, in the evening when they reappeared, Killiney and James had the neighbor with them. They showed Mr Caley into the white drawing room where Elizabeth’s father routinely sat, and sending the maids to fetching some tea, they shook off their wet coats and closed the doors tight.
Expecting she’d seen the last of them, she wandered upstairs. The storm outside was still going strong. She felt every bit as black as the clouds sweeping in from the Channel, for had Lord Killiney bid her hello? Had he even so much as glanced at her kindly?
Setting about sulking with a bitter vengeance, Elizabeth pulled the blankets over her head, buried her face in the feather pillows…until the drawing room doors were thrown open downstairs. Then she jumped up, for with a brazen and obvious tone, Killiney was talking. His words were easy enough for anyone in the house to hear: “But it’s happened, my lord, and surely you’ll appreciate the four hundred pounds I’ve got in that horse.”
Elizabeth went to her door in a hurry, listened as her father badgered Killiney. “Oh, come now,” her father said. “The stable boys will manage. They’re trustworthy lads.”
“Maybe so,” Killiney replied, “but I assure you, one crash of thunder and Khali will panic. No, I see there’s no alternative but to sleep in the stable and take care of him myself. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
With that, Elizabeth heard his boots in the passage fade into the rain, heard James and her father arguing as they turned back to Mr Caley in the drawing room. She wondered if she dared follow Killiney. Then, just as she was about to risk intruding upon my lord again, Sarah came rushing.
“It’s Killiney,” the maid whispered. “He’s waitin’ in the stables.”
Sarah made certain the passage was empty before her mistress stepped into it. Having changed into a prettier gown, Elizabeth slinked down the servants’ stair, past the white drawing room, crept right outside the west front door without ever being seen by either James or her father.
She found Killiney as he’d said, calming his stallion.
He didn’t look up when she first came in. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof quieted her footsteps, but Killiney knew well enough she’d arrived; when he did raise his eyes, she glimpsed a haven of desire tucked away in the blue. ’Twas as if his gaze were edged with a keenness, a deliberate passion, and as he ran his hand along the back of the stallion, walked toward Elizabeth with such an awful slowness that it set her to shaking, she managed to ask him, “What do you mean to do, my lord?”
Lifting his hand from the stallion’s withers, Killiney stepped nearer. “You know exactly what I mean to do.”
He didn’t falter then. His arms, so muscular and ever so burly, were around her in an instant. Before she knew it, the squareness of his chin was nuzzling her own, his fingers were stroking in a firm, intimate exploration all around her trembling hips, and with his compact frame so solid against her, Elizabeth was powerless to do anything save meet his ever-deepening kiss.
Drawing him closer, she opened to him. She enjoyed the gentle probing of his tongue, for how could she not? How could she keep from nibbling his lip? And in hearing him utter a growl in response, she felt an inexplicable joy in having pleased him, aroused him. She was about to whisper a bold proposal when suddenly he drew back. His mouth curved in a smile. “Would you do it here, for Khali to witness?”
“If it pleases you, my lord, why yes, I’d—”
“No,” and he laughed, shook his head affectionately, “no, my lady, you wouldn’t. Not if I’ve a say in it.”
Seizing her waist, he held her prisoner whilst the stable boy was summoned. Khali’s bridle and blanket were brought out; the stallion was saddled, and after pausing a moment to smother Elizabeth’s neck with kisses, Killiney easily mounted the horse, pulled Elizabeth up and into his arms.
Out the stable door, through the wind and rain, they rode to the Little Lodge deep in the woods where he pulled up the stallion, jumped down to unlock the massive oak door. Being carried into the tower’s single room, her skirts swinging, her teeth chattering from excitement rather than cold, Elizabeth couldn’t help thinking he’d arranged their liaison well in advance. The candlesticks were furnished with good, wax candles. The coal box was well stocked, and as Killiney set about starting a fire, he explained as he did that his stallion, Khali, really hadn’t a fear of storms.
“‘Twas a ruse,” he whispered. Striking the flint, he told her about that long ago day in Gibraltar when he’d bought the horse. “The wind was raging then, as well,” he said. “The most uncommon thunder sent the whole stable to neighing, and do you know how I found Khali in his stall? Asleep, I tell you. Completely content.”
Elizabeth giggled, and stepping back from the fire, he turned to her. “Like a kitten before the hearth,” he said. Falling to his knees, he easily pulled her into his arms. When he let his hands slip down the arch of her back, around her buttocks, into the soft creases of her muslin gown, he ignored the small, frightened sound she made. He kissed her anyway, and with the cold and quiet hiss of the fire beside him, his words were a warmth against her lips. “Just as you shall be,” he murmured. “Just as I shall make you.”
What they set to work doing next was more exquisite, more blissful, than ever she could have dreamed. He loved her with such a savagery, ’tis a wonder she lived to tell the tale. He planted kisses upon every part of her shivering body. He whispered the perfections of each limb and crevice so she felt his desire in the brush of his lips, and with each new passion he taught her, each loving instruction he gave in the pleasuring of his maleness, she grew more confident still that her desperate wish had at last come true: She’d found a husband.
And none too soon.
