“Blake, I shall remember this until I die and beyond.” She draped her napkin over her lap. “And in the event I forget to tell you later, thank you, for everything.”
“You are most welcome, my duchess.” And so commenced the opening act in a play hastily sketched on the heels of Admiral Douglas’s dreadful announcement. As he plied his wife with tender morsels, which he fed her with his fork, he teased and cajoled, and she finally relaxed. By the time he revealed her signature recipe rum cake, the same variation she baked for him when they were at sea, she squealed with delight.
“Oh, my cherished husband, you spoil me.” The glowing countenance with which she often favored him aboard the Tristan had returned, and he resolved to maintain it. “But what shall we do until we retire?”
“I beg your pardon?” He found her expression of innocence unutterably arresting. “We retire now, as I intend to take our dessert, in bed.”
“But, I thought the activity normally occurred at night, in the dark.” She blinked, and for the umpteenth time, her cheeks sported a precious shade of pink. “Is it not too early? Perhaps we should we pull the drapes.”
“Sweetheart, it is never too early or late to make love.” Ah, how she captivated him, as he drew her from her seat. Perhaps, if he applied himself appropriately, she might declare her love, as she had not done so since her recovery, and he longed to hear it again. “And let us do so in the light of day, as I wish to admire your beauty, unimpeded.”
As he escorted her into the inner chamber, she halted. “I could play the pianoforte for you. Did you not remark of a preference for my musical abilities?”
“And you will entertain me, soon enough.” In an instant, he turned her to face the long mirror, and then untied and loosened the laces of her gown. “But first, I shall play you.”
“But I do not mind providing a distraction.” Her reflection revealed her discomfit, as she closed her eyes and clutched the bodice of her gown. “Name the piece, and I will perform it.”
“Darling, you will do so, soon enough. But as of this moment, I prefer a duet with my chosen partner, between the sheets.” With care, he eased the heavy velvet over her hips, and let the garment drop to the rug. Nibbling the crest of her ear, he cupped her breasts through her chemise, and she shivered. “Are you nervous?”
“No, it is not that.” Resting her head to his shoulder, she sighed. “I cannot help but ponder where my sister is now and if she will forgive me for taking vows without her presence, when she comes home, and I know she will come home. Most of all, I wonder if I have any right to bask in such happiness, while Lucy is in distress, and I know she suffers without me. Guilt plagues my conscience.”
“Lenore, I insisted we marry before I cast off, so that you will be afforded the protection of my name, while I am gone. And if something happens to me, you will persist in the opulence of my rank, as that would give me great relief.” An undercurrent of sadness marred her beautiful visage, and he ached to console her. “As for Lucilla, I understand your worry, given I wrestled with the same torment, when Trevor took Caroline. While the similarity in our circumstances ended there, as Caroline was anything but distressed when I found her, I would not presume to tell you how to feel. Rather, I would ask only that you put yourself in my capable hands, and let me take away your pain, however brief the respite.”
“All right,” she replied, without hesitation.
That was it. No fuss. No fighting.
Blake bent his head and claimed her lips, and so began the dance.
Little by little, he shed his cravat, coat, waistcoat, shirt, and boots, until only his breeches remained, as he would not startle his virgin bride. When he removed her slippers, garters, and hosiery, she swayed, but he extended his support and kept her upright, so he could pull her slip over her shoulders. In response, she inhaled a shaky breath and tried to cover herself, and he allowed her the illusion of concealment, but nothing about her escaped his notice, as she stood naked before him.
“Lenore, you are beautiful.” For most ladies, taking down their hair was a mundane ritual, but for Blake it was an opportunity to commence the seduction. Each collected pin functioned as another surmounted barrier, until her long locks tumbled free. Spearing his fingers through her thick tresses, he initiated a massage of her scalp and rubbed in a soothing cadence. When his wife leaned against him, he worked his way down her back.
“My, but that feels heavenly.” Of her own volition, she wrapped her arms about his neck, and he lifted her from the floor.
“And I have only just begun.” Blake settled her on the mattress and spread her knees. Trepidation flared in her baby blues, but she did not resist as he stretched long between her legs. Yet the intimation of melancholy intruded on what should have been a new and enticing experience, so he reminded himself to exercise patience and paid homage to her luscious thighs, suckling and laving her supple skin.
Summoning the finesse of his voluptuous expertise, honed in the pursuit of some of the most skilled courtesans, he teased and tempted his lady, pressing on her intimate caresses intended to arouse, and she lauded his efforts by yanking his hair. Only when she slackened did he trail his tongue along her most tender flesh. As he anticipated, Lenore shrieked and tensed, but he maintained a steady pace, despite his urge to feast on the jewel of her desire.
Stunned by the power of her allure, and driven by a passion that threatened to overwhelm his control, Blake fought to reinforce his composure, as he fastened his mouth to her pearl and drew hard, and his bride shattered with an ear-splitting scream. It was the most precious moment of his life, and while he had intended to claim her maidenhead in that instant, as she languished in the throes of release, instead he paused to commit her virgin climax to memory.
But there was another reason he delayed.
At some point during the delicate invasion, he realized he wanted Lenore alert when he entered her for the first time. He wanted her with him, sharing the union in every sense. So he stripped his breeches and paused to pleasure himself, else he might devolve into insanity.
Just when he thought he could stand no more, Lenore fluttered her eyelids and then met his stare. Without a word, she smiled and flicked her fingers, and he answered her summons. Setting his hips to hers, he nipped her nose. “Wrap your legs about me, sweetheart, and hug me with your thighs.”
“Like this?” She did as he bade, and he positioned himself to breach her.
“Perfect.” Holding her gaze, he pressed forward, and she furrowed her brow. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.” She framed his face but did not flinch. “But it is far more personal than I dreamed.”
“I understand, as I concur.” Gritting his teeth, he thrust the final measure and seated himself inside her. “And so it is done, my duchess. You are mine, now and forever.”
And in that second, Blake had his fill of conversation, so he snatched the reins and steered them on a course for indulgence and gratification, but as he plunged repeatedly into her scorching heat, he was shocked to discover so much more. The physical connection fanned out, showering over him as a spring rain, and sank deep into the recesses of his mind, reaching for and affixing to his emotions. As no stranger to sexual enterprises, Blake wanted to laugh and cry, at once, as he was so grateful to have found Lenore, yet he feared losing her.
Such was the way of love, the wanting, and the needing.
For him, the connubial bed functioned as a safe haven, shielding them from the cold, harsh grip of reality that wove its lacework beyond the walls of his home. As he whispered instruction and encouragement, they came together and found sanctuary and solace in the coupling of their bodies. When release beckoned, his seed burst forth in a rush, and he kicked and flailed as incomparable euphoria rocked him.
But then came the true intimacy, an afterglow of heretofore-incomprehensible satiety and acceptance, unconstrained by the mortal shell, and unmatched in its utter mastery of his being, as Lenore held him in her arms and kissed
him. In each other’s embrace blossomed the unmistakable fire of unshakeable devotion no foreign war or anonymous villain could invade or impede, and it was in that amorous exchange they seized happiness, however fleeting.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As Lenore looked back on the first four days of her marriage, she supposed she would always remember the adoration and affection of her lusty sea captain, as he insisted they christen every scrap of new furniture, and some of the walls, with various positions that tested the limits of her flexibility and imagination, in their suite. Just thinking about the mind-bending maneuver with the two-seater bench brought the burn of a blush to her cheeks, as never would she have fathomed such a questionable use for what appeared to be nothing more than an innocuous effect. But it was the tender and caring lover, a side of Blake shown only to her, that she would cherish most, and his impending departure inspired naught but heartbreak and despair.
“You promised no tears, sweetheart.” In the coach, Blake tugged on a lock of her hair and cupped her chin, as she collapsed against his chest after another heated round of coitus. “I told you, I wish to carry a vision of your sweet smile with me, as I set sail.”
“I am sorry.” Closing her eyes, she sighed and shivered. “But I miss you, already. If Lucilla were home, I would travel with you.”
“And I you.” Shifting beneath her, he grabbed the ermine throw and draped it over them. “But you would be miserable, as you suffer horrid seasickness, or did you forget?”
“I forget nothing, I will be a vast deal more miserable without you, and you solved that problem on our voyage to London.” Skimming the lapel of his coat, she wrapped an arm about his waist and relished his warmth. “You need but pack a case of coconut rum and lock me in your cabin for the first few days. I do not imagine it will be difficult for you to find suitable distraction, as you are so resourceful.”
“Ah, my duchess flirts with me, and she is insatiable, but I like that.” With a growl, he nibbled in play at her neck, and she tensed her thighs. “Lenore, I have said it before, and I shall say it again, you tempt me beyond reason.”
“It is only fair, as you do the same to me.” She set her lips to his and flicked her tongue in summons. “Have we time for another go, as I would have a cherished recollection to sustain me in your absence.” In earnest, she nuzzled him. “Please, Blake?”
“It is possible, and I love it when you beg.” He lifted the shade, squinted against the bright sunlight, cupped her bare bottom, and held her firm as he thrust. “We are nearing Deptford, but I believe I can satisfy you.”
Approximately twenty minutes later, they arrived at the East India docks, where the mighty ships of the Brethren of the Coast berthed. It was under the guise of a privateer that her husband served the Crown, and never was she more proud. As Lenore settled her skirts, Blake tucked in his shirt, hooked his breeches, and buttoned his waistcoat.
“Well that had to be the most stimulating coach ride I have ever enjoyed.” Lenore tugged on her gloves and Blake handed her to the pavement. As she scanned the vicinity, she noted similar scenes playing between the Brethren couples, with a single exception. One particular rig pitched and rolled violently. “Oh, my goodness. Do you think there is something wrong?”
“That is Alex and Jason’s equipage.” Blake snickered. “Remember, he has no couth, but she loves him, as you can see for yourself.”
“But I find their display, however incongruous, rather charming.” Lenore pondered a declaration, and the three words traipsed the tip of her tongue, but her duke made her vow to avoid an emotional farewell, so she quashed the urge. Great men bothered not with sentiment, and she refused to embarrass Blake, so she remained quiet. When a footman dropped an end of Blake’s trunk, her wifely instincts charged the fore. “Careful with His Grace’s belongings, as I packed them beautifully.”
“Sorry, Your Grace.” The servant nodded once.
“How I admire your spirit, so reminiscent of that day in Brussels, when we met.” Blake offered his escort, and they strolled the boards to the Tristan, which sported a festoon of evergreens in the rigging. “Yet I still miss the effervescence with which you used to welcome me. So what do you think of our wedding garland, love?”
“What do you expect, as Lucilla remains lost, you are leaving me, and I shall be all alone?” And the resulting pain threatened to crush her. “As for the garland, I have heard much of the tradition, and I thank you for the display.”
“My dear wife, you are never alone, as you are part of a large family, and we guard each other.” He paused at the end of the gangplank. “And I am glad you approve. Now give me a kiss to sustain me, until I return and we are reunited.” Blake suckled her bottom lip. “We shall commence our rounds of the east wing, and then there is Pemberton, which has more than one hundred rooms, not to mention my two other residences.”
“So many venues, so little time.” She clutched the folds of his many-caped greatcoat. “Can I not come aboard, just for a few minutes? I just want to be close to you.”
“No.” To her dismay, he set her apart from him and huffed a breath. “Darling, if you do, I will never cast off, as I ache for you, already, but I must do my duty.” He gave her a gentle nudge. “Join Caroline, Rebecca, Sabrina, and Alex, as they know the routine, and you would do well to follow their example.”
“You will be careful.” At the prospect of their looming separation, Lenore lost the battle with her tears. “You will come back to me, impossible man.”
“Sweetheart, I have provided ample proof of just how possible I can be, where you are concerned.” With a wink, he ascended to his vessel. “I will be home before you know it, so rest up, as that coach ride shall be twice as intense.”
“Is that a promise?” Now she wept openly.
“My sweet duchess, you may depend upon it.” Blake sketched a salute. “And, please, do not cry, as I cannot bear it.”
Just then, Caroline signaled with a flick of her fingers, and Lenore gathered with the other wives, save Daphne, who remained on Portsea Island, as Dalton embarked from Portsmouth. Lenore hugged her sister-in-law and asked, “Does it ever get easy?”
“I have done this for five years.” Caroline sniffed. “If it ever hurts any less, I will tell you.”
“Oh, Everett.” Sabrina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “What will I do without him?”
“There, there, Brie.” Rebecca drew Sabrina into a comforting embrace. “Our men are skilled mariners, with years of experience, and they always return to our shores, safe and sound, hale and hearty.”
In a slow glide, the Tristan set sail, as sailors climbed the ratlines, leading the Brethren into action. On the quarterdeck, Blake stood and waved. All of a sudden, something inside Lenore fractured, and she bolted.
“Blake.” Running the length of the walkway, she flailed her hands. “Blake.” At the end of the wharf, she halted, and her husband blew her a kiss, as the Tristan navigated into the Thames. A whisper of a breeze sifted through her hair, and she said in a low voice, “I love you.”
It was a disappointing and lonely stroll that brought her back to the Rylan coach, and after bidding farewell to her new sisters, and arranging a luncheon, Lenore reclined in the plush squabs and struggled with regret. Regardless of Blake’s stated preferences, she should have told him she loved him, because there were no guaranteed tomorrows, and he ventured into war. Should something happen to him; she would never forgive herself for adhering to feminine deportment and honoring his wishes.
The singular thought haunted her return trip to London, and by the time the equipage halted before Elliott House, she had whipped herself into a fit of high dudgeon. But the sight of Dr. Handley’s curricle drew her up short, and she skipped up the entrance stairs.
“Jennings, what is the physician doing here?” Lenore’s first inclination was that something terrible befell the dowager. “Is it serious?”
“Your Grace, Sir Ross arrived a half hour ago, with Miss Lucilla.”
The butler wiped the corner of his eye. “I took the liberty of summoning Dr. Handley, and he examines her, as we speak.”
The world shifted beneath Lenore’s feet, overwhelming relief mixed with elation and charged her nerves, and she almost tripped on the stairs as she broke into a sprint. Though she knew not what to expect, what mattered was Lucilla was home. Out of breath and panting, Lenore flew into Lucy’s sitting room.
“Oh, my dear Lenore, I am so glad you are here.” Uncle Samuel daubed his nose and cleared his throat. “Lucy is very thin and dirty, but she looks good, and Dr. Handley is with her.”
“How is her health?” She glanced at Sir Ross, and before he could answer, Lenore flung herself at him. “You wonderful man.” Beside herself with joy, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you, so much. Never can I repay your kindness.”
“That is not necessary, Your Grace.” The veteran agent flushed red and shuffled his feet. “But your sister is very resourceful, she outsmarted her assailant, and she is in far better condition than how I found you.”
“Did he hurt her? Did she provide any information?” At the prospect of what might have happened to Lucy after Lenore’s rescue, the painfully familiar weight returned to her chest, and she clutched her throat. “May I speak with her?”
“Be my guest.” Sir Ross flipped through his notes. “She gave me a detailed interview, and I would like to return to the Ministry, with your permission, as I have solid leads on our suspect, which I need to pursue with haste.”
“Of course, Sir Ross. If there is anything I can do to assist you, do not hesitate to ask.” Lenore peered at her relation. “Uncle, I am going to check on Lucy, and then I will usher you inside so you can visit with her.”
“Take your time, as I can wait.” He sat on the chaise and bowed his head.
Love With an Improper Stranger Page 20
