The Model Master

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  He knew he was also being selfish and evasive. As soon as she could think straight once more, she might start to have regrets. Might start to feel shame or withdraw from him in some way, back to only the warm friend she had been.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of her not looking at him or touching him with love, and kissed her full on the mouth. She groaned as another zenith of pleasure grew and exploded within her, and now strained against him for escape.

  He hung onto her, scooping her body even more tightly to him and pressed hard until she whimpered anew.

  She dragged her lips away. "Please, Michael we can’t keep doing this--"

  "I’ve been told by Ash that the men in the east can do this for hours on end. I’ve never had the leisure or even the inclination to try before. But for you, my love, anything."

  "But it’s not fair," she gasped.

  He laughed teasingly. "Now, now love. Most women complain they don’t have enough pleasure in the marriage bed. You can hardly be complaining about having too much."

  "No, I meant your-"

  Her words were choked off by another sob of passion. He clung to her and contemplated the most arctic thoughts about snow and rain and icicles to keep her passion sparking but forestall his own climax. She was boneless and quivering an hour later when she begged him for the hundredth time to complete himself inside her.

  "I’m told by Ash also that six is the magic number for me, and you too, I suppose," he said with smile.

  His own release tore through him. With one last gut-wrenching surge which he was sure was going to turn him inside out, he climaxed, hugged her close, and slept the sleep of the dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Eventually Bryony stirred and managed to slip from the bed before Michael’s questing hands tugged her back into his arms. She had the most thrilling throb between her legs from all they had shared, but it wouldn’t do to make them sore and him exhausted on their first night together.

  Well, day, she amended, for it was well and truly noon by the time she got upstairs to spend more than a few moments with the children. After a quick bath and a clean gown, she brought Michael breakfast in bed. She then withdrew strategically so that Robin could help him with his toilette.

  All of the servants grinned at her, including the normally impassive Simms the butler. She could swear he even winked as he went past.

  Michael lay like a man stunned. He could hardly believe what had happened between them. But unlike Bryony, he began to have second thoughts about himself and what he had done to her.

  How could she love a man like him? Want to be with him night and day? She might feel like that about him now, but in a week or two...

  He wondered about how he could please her, recalling all the women he had kept busily occupied in bed. Well, he was a far cry from what he had once been. But that was true of a lot of aspects of his life, not just his sexuality. On the other hand, it had never been like this... So thrilling, sensual.

  He looked around to see if Robin were still in his room, and then tried raising himself with his feet flat on the floor. The pain seared through him, and for a moment he had visions of him collapsing in an ignominious heap and having to be rescued by half the household. But love was all about risk...

  He was exhausted and in a thoroughly bad temper by the time Robin came to see if he was finished on the commode and wanted his bath. His arms were so weak from practising trying to stand he had a hard time getting in and out of the tub.

  Bryony heard him cursing furiously, and quailed. She had thought she was helping, but it appeared she had only made things worse.

  His tirade continued for some time, until she didn’t know what to do. Standing as frozen as a lamped rabbit, she stared at his door and the huge staircase.

  Snatching up her bonnet and reticule, she went to the stables, secured a mount, and went to pay some calls.

  Her first visit was to Ash and Eswara. She told them briefly that she and Michael now appeared to be a couple, which they were delighted about.

  After lots of warm hugs and kisses all around and a glass of wine to celebrate, she told them the purpose of her coming.

  "I’m glad to help," Ash reassured her. "Tell the carpenter to call any time."

  "And you’ll come to the house whenever it can be arranged?"

  "Yes, we’ll be delighted to."

  "I’m going to ask Blake and Arabella to visit as well. I’d like you all to meet, see what they think of the therapeutic massage."

  "Very good, except that it might be better coming from you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You do it to them."

  "Oh, no, I mean they're Michael’s friends and—"

  Eswara was firm. "If you’re to be a healer, it means doing it to everyone, men and women. You can of course specialise in women, as I have done. Many men would not view a woman practitioner with the appropriate respect. But you’re English, a Westerner. It won’t seem so bizarre to them if you can convince them that you’ve helped heal Michael with very little help from me. If he asks where you learned, then you can tell him."

  Bryony agreed reluctantly, and went to call at the workshop of the master carpenter, Mr. Davis. To her infinite relief he didn’t laugh at her ideas at all.

  "This is Bath, Miss, and your ideas are sound ones. I’ve had to adapt all sorts of houses and properties to suit invalids, but these improvements are very clever. Of course, I won’t be able to tell about the house until I see it in person. But I’d be eager to start on the chair and the tub device if you like.

  "I’m not so sure about the item for mounting the horse. But in the meantime, I can give you a mechanical horse to help him build up his muscles. It’s a sprung affair he sits on and gallops, as it were. And I know a good saddler who can help you.

  "The carriage device will be the hardest, but with time and patience I think we can manage to let him be as independent as he wants to be. Or to just have one person like your good self helping him, Madam."

  Ash was able to model for Mr. Davis, being just about the right height and weight. The four of them worked together on the preliminary sketches, which she slipped into her reticule.

  "As soon as I hear from Blake and Arabella I’ll summon you and we can have a confab again," she said to the three.

  "And I’m going to come measure up the foyer and stairs."

  "And all the bathrooms."

  Mr. Davis nodded. "If you can just give me ten pounds deposit on the chairs and so forth, I’ll get started immediately and have all this preliminary work done by the end of the week."

  "Oh, no real hurry," she said, balking a bit. She still had to win Michael around to some of her ideas, and had the feeling that she was going to need all the help she could get from Blake. Unless of course she made the whole thing a complete surprise....

  "How many days do you think the stairs would take?"

  "Can’t commit myself totally without seeing them first, but I would say a week for everything."

  "So if we went to stay with friends—"

  Mr. Davis nodded. "We could have everything set up for you by the time you got back."

  "Thomas Eltham has been asking us to come stay for some time. And we’re always welcome at Blake’s. All right, we’re going to do it that way."

  "Are you sure you want to present him with a fait accompli?" Eswara asked in a worried tone.

  She smiled. "He’ll be angry, but I think I can get him to come round in time."

  Ash laughed. "Of that I have no doubt. You certainly have blossomed, my dear. And now, two requests. Firstly, can Mr. Davis make me a similar set of chairs and aids? Secondly, will someone please come get me out of this tub? It’s as hard as a rock."

  They all laughed at that good-naturedly, and helped the disabled young man out.

  Once Ash was safely back in his Bath chair, Bryony headed home with a light heart, and was immediately pounced upon by Michael when she got in.

  "Where on earth hav
e you been?" he demanded, his dark brows drawing down.

  "In Bath with Eswara and Ash."

  "Yes, Ash," he said grimly.

  She plunked herself into his lap and kissed him hard. "Don’t even think it, let alone say it. I belong to you."

  His pale eyes darkened with tempestuous passion and his hands moved over her lustily. "Show me."

  "Gladly, but let’s at least get to your room," she panted.

  No sooner had the door shut behind them than he had her gown half off and was ducking his head to try to lick her stomach. She squirmed out of the way and stepped behind the chair, unfastening his clothes hurriedly whilst she nibbled his earlobes. Once he was bare to the waist, she moved around to the front. He said in a husky whisper, "I’ve had nothing but visions of you naked with your hair down ever since we met. Would you please oblige me?"

  Raising her arms over her head, she complied with slow, lingering movements which set him aflame.

  "Lovely, just lovely," he breathed, stroking the tresses back from her face, and down over her breasts, cupping one through the shimmering raven hair cascading down to her knees.

  "Let me look at you down—"

  "No, really, let’s get you into bed," she said with a shiver.

  He noticed the subtle change in her, but her hands were steady as she unfastened his trousers and worked them off him patiently, then got him in the bed and laid down full-length beside him.

  "Tell me what you want, darling."

  "One of your intoxicating kisses," she whispered, tracing his lips lovingly.

  The storm burst over them in an instant as their lips met and breath mingled. Bryony wondered at the enchantment which rendered two halves into a whole as she slid onto him and he filled her with rapturous strokes which left her breathless with need even as he fulfilled her every desire.

  Her orgasms only seemed to increase in intensity as he tried to mimic her massage caresses and devoted all of his huge hands’ energies to her hips and thighs.

  She certainly found it pleasurable, but the contact was also an unpleasant reminder of the things her husband had tried to do, and she rolled onto her back, taking him with her, eager to feel his hard weight massaging her front.

  She grew nervous again when he grasped her hands to curve his fingers into hers on the mattress. She pulled her lips away. She managed to wrest one away to stroke his cheek, reminding herself that this was Michael and he was gentle, not cruel.

  But now that he had taken over their lovemaking in a desperate effort to please her, she found herself growing frightened at the forces she had unleashed within him.

  And herself. As another orgasm shredded her sanity and she lay sobbing with almost mindless joy, she wondered at the wisdom of what she had done. For now that she had known such passion and pleasure, nothing could ever compare. To lose this bliss would truly be to lose paradise on earth.

  As she lay reveling in the afterglow, Michael began to kiss down her neck to her breasts, suckling them in turn until she felt the most powerful tug at her womb, and spread her legs wide. But rather than move up the bed, he began to slide downwards.

  Her sense of panic catapulted through her again. Damnation... "No, please, not that, Michael—" she said in alarm.

  "What, what is it?" he asked, flattening himself onto her chest once more.

  "I had so little pleasure before, that this is too much. It’s almost frightening."

  "I understand. It’s frightening to lose control," he said tenderly.

  "It’s not just my skin, my body. It feels like there’s something burrowing under my flesh everywhere. From head to toe. I can feel my face and belly going on fire with one single touch of your fingers. Even the sound of your voice."

  He laughed triumphantly. "You have no idea what this means to me. How wonderful it makes me feel."

  "I hope as wonderful as you’re making me feel."

  "I’m glad."

  "But I feel so selfish. As if I’m using you for—"

  He laughed incredulously. "You can say that to me after the wonderful way you woke me up this morning? No, my darling, you make me feel treasured, and I just want to return the favour."

  "We don’t always have to be struggling for who pleases who, though. You had your turn, I’ve had more than enough of mine, so now I think it’s yours again. Just let it go. Just let it flood through you like the roaring tide."

  "I thought that’s what I was doing. Nice little languid caresses."

  He embellished his words by joining as one with her and making the most subtle movements which had her on fire all over again. Only this time she caught him by surprise and rolled him off before he could trap her and impale her once more.

  She flipped over quickly and rammed him onto his back, joining with him in a single fluid movement of her hips which was at last his undoing. Her hands were everywhere, rubbing his sensitive globes, his face and hair. His orgasm scorched them both as he poured all of his pent-up longing into her with one last mighty cry.

  "Are you all right?" she asked some time later, when she was at last able to speak again. Her sense of panic was just an unpleasant memory as he lay under her, completely subdued. Safe. But he wasn’t always going to be like that, she knew.... She pushed away the fear, and kissed him.

  He nodded weakly, speechless with joy. And confusion. He knew that there was something he had missed, but was fearful to find out what it was.

  She cradled his head against her bosom, and once more they slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A note from Blake the next morning told Bryony he and his wife would come to stay overnight the following day. She conveyed the message to Michael.

  He looked surprised and pleased. "Can you make sure the guest room is—"

  "Yes. Do you mind them knowing about us?" she asked softly.

  He grinned. "Mind? I can’t wait to tell them."

  He kissed her warmly, but even as he did so he wondered at her reticence in bed the previous evening. He decided that she was having some second thoughts already herself. He wanted to reassure her, but it was difficult when he was not sure so himself that this was the best thing for her.

  Already he might have removed many of her choices by getting her with child. He would need to ask Blake for some help with some protectors, and try to contain his exuberance enough to pull out of her before the critical moment.

  He hated having to speak to her about such unromantic and practical things, but she was going to have to know, help him even. He hated his dependency, though she had given him no cause to feel uneasy on that score. In fact, what they had shared encouraged him all the more to try walking when no one was around.

  A moment later she said, "You don’t mind if Ash and Eswara come too, do you? It’s just that Eswara is a healer and I feel sure she and Blake would have a lot in common."

  "No, I don’t mind," he said, trying to quash the jealousy he felt.

  That jealousy was increased tenfold when their guests arrived, and he discovered Ash was staying in the upstairs part of the house despite his handicap. He could hear the constant murmur of voices in the chambers above. Blake, much to his surprise, spent more time upstairs with Bryony than with him.

  Bryony had first explained her ideas for the house renovations, and showed Blake the preliminary sketches. The good doctor was excited at the plans, and happy to have the whole little family stay with them for as long as they needed whilst the work took place.

  She had ended up giving both Blake and Arabella massages, shame on all their parts abandoned for the sake of medical inquiry. Blake examined Ash in front of the three women, and studied the notes Eswara had been making on his progress and all the different treatments which Eswara had tried whilst Bryony massaged Arabella.

  It was thus that Michael found him when he insisted the servants take him upstairs, and his face flamed. The five of them looked at him calmly as he sputtered an apology.

  Bryony covered all of Arabella’s bare bottom wit
h a towel quickly, but she asked her to carry on, so she continued on under the cloth.

  Ash lay as nonchalantly on the chaise longue as Adam in Paradise.

  Michael shook his head again at the strangely exotic young man. Now they even seemed to have turned the Sandersons’ heads. He had seldom seen his friend looking less than dapper, yet there he was in his shirt-sleeves, his neck bared. Oh, no, surely she hadn’t done that to them as well....