To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (Wicked Wagers 3)
Page 11
Amy was momentarily embarrassed when his muscled thigh, raspy with masculine hair, rode against her dampness, but his groan of admiration saw her glory in wanton incitement. He deliberately shifted, pressing against the most sensitive spot, knowingly winding her tight... Her breath tangled in her throat.
She traced the rock-hard muscles in his arms as he braced himself over her, his other knee joining the first, pushing her legs apart, spreading her thighs so he could settle between them.
Their eyes locked and silently communicated. He looked down her bare torso to where their bodies would join and the set of his face told her all she needed to know. The angles and planes of his handsome face were sharp with desire. There was an elemental rawness of conquering male, and it thrilled her. She cupped his face and nodded. She was putting herself into hands, into his body, into his heart.
He lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips as he shifted between her thighs. The hardness she’d been caressing probed her slick entranced and she tried to relax, tried to memorize her first taste of his broad, blunt head and its inherent strength and heat as he inched slowly within her.
“Relax, my darling. Breathe slowly. I promise I’ll try and make it as painless as I can.”
He flexed his hips and pressed further in. She felt every inch of his hardness, stretching and filling her. He reversed direction and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I know it will hurt the first time. Why not just get it over with?” she said through gritted teeth.
He pressed back in, a little way further this time. “It doesn’t have to hurt. Patience.”
He repeated the process several times, each entry just that little bit further. Each short stroke enough to tantalize, to drive her insane. She moaned his name.
He covered her lips, took her mouth, adding to her screaming senses. She was combusting from the inside. Soon she was lifting her hips, writhing on the bed, urging him for more, her body aching, wanting...
He continued teasing her, only just entering her and then withdrawing, until she was wet and open and almost delirious with desire. Moving in a rhythm that was as ancient as time.
She lifted her head and found his lips. He took her mouth, his tongue mimicking his delicious torture below. He slid deeper, and his tongue plundered, ruthlessly. He settled more heavily between her legs, and she felt the power and strength of him.
Then he thrust powerfully.
She cried out in surprise, his mouth capturing her strangled gasp.
He stilled above her, raining kisses all over her face. “The pain will dull in a few moments. Are you all right?” The concern was very evident in his voice and the worried green of his eyes. He tenderly stroked down her side and molded his hand to her hip.
The sharp pain lessened to a dull ache and she could feel him throbbing within her. She could not help but move. At the slight lift of her hips, he drew back, and gripping her hip, he pressed in again. There was no pain this time. He didn’t stop but drove on, all the way in, steadily pushing deep, stretching her, impaling her. She tried to remember to breathe as the sensation of him, hard and strong, embedded deep within her, filing her fuller than she’d imagined.
He rose up on his forearms and his eyes, emeralds under his lashes, glinted down at her, the weight of his lower body holding her immobile as he looked down and watched as he withdrew and slowly, even more powerfully, entered her.
She followed his gaze and watched as he claimed her. She felt every inch as he filled her, felt her body tighten until she arched beneath him.
“God, you feel so good.” She struggled to catch her breath, “My body’s on fire. I don’t know if I can take–”
“You can. You will.” It was a growled command. “Close your eyes and let it happen.”
He continued to move above her and her body wound itself as tight as a drawn bow. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to passion’s power. The intimacy of the moment sharpened as he slid deep and she felt the first stirrings of overwhelming passion.
She sent her hands sliding over his shoulders, running them over his back until she found his buttocks. She held on as they flexed. He began to move more forcibly than before, her hips lifted to match his rhythm the friction of their bodies sending spiralling pleasure to her very core.
“Oh. My. God–”
The restless flames of desire erupted within her.
Erupted into a firestorm.
At her first scream, he took her mouth. Their lips melded, tongues tangled, hands gripping, their bodies merging in a frantic and driving need.
Hr thrust harder, faster, and ever more powerfully. She gave herself over to him, sinking her nails into his buttocks, pulling him close, urging him deeper-wild to provoke him further.
They were desperate for each. Neither trying to dominate, both wanting to take this journey together. Sharing, loving, being one. Their senses held, locked, overwhelmed by the slickness, the heat, the gasping urgency of their loving.
He drove her on, ensuring the road to her release was expertly travelled. He thrust deeper yet and her body gathered him close, holding him, tightening around him and suddenly she was floating, riding a wave of joyous and consuming pleasure. Her body imploded in heat and glory and satisfaction. Sensations rioted down every nerve to suffuse her every inch of her being with satiation. The waves continued, no longer gigantic, but ripples of contentment. She clung to him, felt him thrust deep and roar against her mouth, the sound flowing into her, as did his seed. They lay still, panting, soaking in the glory of their union as the waves slowly ebbed.
Henry fought to regain his senses. Eyes closed tight as he felt the last spasm faded. A tsunami of feelings rioted within his chest. She was his. He’d bound her to him—forever.
He rolled off her. He slumped exhausted wrung out beside her, pulling her hard against him into the cradle of his arms. Protecting her automatically as he would for the rest of his life.
Peace flowed over him and through him. He’d never felt anything like it in his life and he just wanted to lie here and reveal in the joy of it.
The joy of her.
They lay wrapped together, too drained to stir, and very content.
Henry couldn’t stop touching her. He stroked her silky skin and tried to think.
Tried to understand the past week. Why did Amy hide from him? The thought focused his mind on where they were, what they had done, what was to come.
“Why, Amy? Why did you hide from me?”
He sensed her stiffen beside him. He turned to look in her eyes, the depth hidden by the now nearly extinguished candle.
He felt rather than saw her withdrawal.
Like a queen she asked, voice steady, “Who is Millicent?”
He stilled. Her question hit him hard. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Does it matter?”
“Did Marcus say something to you about Millicent?”
She shook her head.
“Sabine or Caitlin?”
“No. I heard her name from you.”
Chapter Ten
Lips compressing, he narrowed his eyes, and wondered what game she was playing. “I very much doubt that.”
She rolled away from him onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I guess I’ve been a little in love with you since I was fifteen. Do you remember when I came off my horse?”
“Yes. You were very lucky. I saw you fall, it was nasty.”
She sighed. “I heard you fall that night in your garden. I often used to-let’s just say spy-on you talking to your brother.”
He swallowed a terse curse, affronted by her behavior. She hurried on. “I was attending to your wound when you kissed me, and I let myself be carried away. I wanted something beautiful to hold on to should I find myself betrothed to a man like Chesterton.”
He rolled onto his side, propped on his elbow. “That will never happen now. Over my dead body.” She sighed in exasperation and he said, “Go on.”
He ran a finger down her cheek. “She is a woman in my past, Amy. I haven’t seen or spoken to Millicent in almost two years.”
“Did you love her?”
Henry hesitated before answering trying to understand what he did feel. “At the time I thought I did. Now I’m not sure. I do know I cared for her deeply.” He knew it would hurt her but he wanted to be honest. “I still do care for her. She was a good friend.”
Amy turned to stare at the ceiling again.
He took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. “But I never wanted to marry her. I do want to marry you. Amy. You belong to me. With me. I know it in my bones.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You know what I swore.”
He nodded. “And I swear to you my heart does not belong to another. Once I marry I will never keep a mistress, Amy. If you did spy on me talking to Richard, then you know what I want. What I need.”
He bent and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
“I want a woman who I can come to love and who could love me. I want a true matching of souls. I want a warm and happy home filled with children who are wanted.”
She burrowed closer. “I want that too. I want it so much it scares me.”
“We will be happy together, Amy. We will have a good life. Together. I promise.”
Never had she experienced such abiding joy. It filled her completely. She curled into his side.
“So, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
“If you truly are not in love with anyone else, then it would be a dream come true. Yes, I would be thrilled to become Countess Cravenswood.” She looked at him shyly. “I love you.”
He drew her closer, a warm, silken bundle beside him, her head cradled on his chest. Henry let the force that drove him to propose rise and consume him. Unmitigated contentment flooded his body and he squeezed her tightly. Everything would be perfect. She was perfect.
She was exactly what he wanted and needed. Yet he didn’t want just her body, he wanted her heart. His heart sang in the knowledge that she loved him.
Her body gave him pleasure, and even if they made love over a million times it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his intense longing. Only her heart calmed his restless spirit.
“I shall leave on the morrow to meet with your father. With his approval, I’ll arrange a special license. We can be married in a few days.”
She giggled. “I realize when we go back to London that it is unlikely we can be together—like this, but why the rush? I’m perfectly content where I am right now.”
He kissed the top of head. “I will admit that I’m impatient to have you in my bed, my home, my life but, umm, we might have a bit of a problem–”
“It pleases me that you don’t want to wait. I don’t care if I have a large wedding. Plus, my father can’t wait to see me wed. He’ll be ecstatic to have it over with swiftly.”
He told her. “Chesterton saw you coming out of the stables last night. He thinks you were having an illicit rendezvous with Marcus.”
She sat up, heedless of the impact on him. His eyes fixed on her pert bosoms. Her glossy hair fell in disarray around her shoulders and down her back. She looked as tempting as sin.
Her eyes narrowed and he could see her brain begin to awake from its sensuous slumber. He loved her intelligence but right now he wished she wasn’t so astute.
“Why were you in my room tonight?”
He knew he should tread carefully here. “I knew you were the owner of the earring.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. Then lowered it and said, “How? And since when? Did Marcus tell you?”
His eyes locked on her. “I saw you reach for your earring when you hid under my bed.”
The flush raced over her skin like the rising sun over the darkened ground. “You saw me,” she managed to squeak.
He leaned forward and kissed her soundly before whispering, “Did you enjoy watching me?”
She kept her voice low and siren like; desire flamed anew. “I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever watched. But now...” Her eyes ran down his body. “What we just shared... Just looking at you takes my breath away.”
Henry reached for her, eagerly locking his lips with hers. She kissed him with unfeigned, innocent hunger, openly encouraging. But then she stiffened and pulled back. “Don’t distract me. You didn’t explain about Chesterton.”
Damn. She would not be denied answers. “He saw you coming out of the stables after meeting with Marcus.” He tweaked her nose. “In your nightdress.”
She frowned and shrugged. “So?”
“With a man of Marcus’s reputation, Chesterton immediately thought the worst.”
She was still frowning. “I don’t...” She gasped her hands flying to her breasts. “No. As if I’d do that. As if Marcus would do that to Sabine. As if I’d do that to Sabine.”
Henry looked away.
“Oh, my, God. Henry St. Giles look at me. You believed him!”
He looked into the warmth of her eyes and berated himself for thinking the worst. “In my defense, evidence suggested otherwise.”
Amy scrambled off the bed heedless of her nakedness.
He rose too. “I heard you and your maid talking in the gardens. Talking about the man you couldn’t have because he loved another. I assumed that was Marcus, since you didn’t reveal yourself as the owner of the earring. I thought you had something to hide. Perhaps your heart was engaged elsewhere. Plus, Marcus lied to me about the earring, saying he didn’t recognize it, yet when I went to Garrard’s to check”-
-“You went to Garrard’s to check?”
Her skin was flushed and she was breathing heavily. Her beautiful breasts rising and falling rapidly. He tried to concentrate so he could make her understand.
“Why were you in this room?” her stuttered words were filled with anger.
He rubbed his hand over his face and prayed his confession did not ruin everything.
“I wanted to find the drawings of Marcus. If Chesterton revealed what he knew, I wanted Sabine protected by ensuring there was no evidence.” He hesitated. “Then I was going to insist that you marry me to prove Chesterton made a mistake, it was me not Marcus. Everyone would be protected.”
She stood there with her mouth hanging open. He waited for the explosion and accusations to come. Instead she closed her mouth walked toward him. She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart.
“Everyone would have been happy but you. You’d marry a woman who’d cheat on her best friend, who fell into bed with a married rake, just to protect those you loved.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You truly are a saint, Henry St. Giles, Earl of Cravenswood.”
He was out of his depth. His soul consumed with relief; she hadn’t rejected him. “Deep in my heart, I knew there had to be a mistake. I didn’t believe it of Marcus and more importantly I couldn’t believe it of you.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled her into his arms and they stood there, skin to skin. They fitted together so perfectly.
They stood like that for several moments until the movement of her small hand down his chest drew his attention. She leaned forward and licked his nipple. His body, which he’d been struggling to keep under control, could be denied no more.
He closed his eyes and willed his body to obey his command. She’d been a virgin and would not doubt be sore. Swallowing a groan, he opened his eyes and caught her wrist.
Amy’s look of embarrassing uncertainty tugged at his heart. “God, don’t look at me like that. It’s too soon, sweetheart. You’ll be too sore.”
Her other hand drifted from his chest, down over his torso... “Perhaps not. You don’t want to stop. Your body tells me otherwise.”
He cursed, meeting her gaze: rich, warm brown eyes that promised so much, her lips swollen from his kisses. “I don’t want you to regret anything about this night.”
“I’ll regret it more if you leave my bed before morning. Who knows how long it will be before we can make love again?”
He couldn’t dispute her words, didn’t want to, and her questing hands easily convinced him that taking her back to bed would be the smartest thing he’d ever done.
He scooped her into his arms and fell with her onto the bed.
And as he listened to her moans, and little cries of delight, he congratulated himself on being right.
#
He left before dawn broke. He hesitated, looking down at her, then bent his head, trailed a kiss to her ear, and whispered, “Next time I have you, you’ll be my wife. Then I plan on taking you to my bed and not letting you leave for a week.”
Utterly exhausted from their night of lovemaking, Amy had fallen back asleep before he’d even left the room.
Henry was almost to his bedchamber when Marcus peeled away from the shadows, an angry hiss escaping his mouth. He was barefooted, wearing nothing but black trousers and a hastily donned white ruffled evening shirt. “I think I’ll thrash you until you can barely walk.”
“I thought you’d be pleased. Wasn’t it your plan that said if all else fails, I was to compromise the lady? It looks as if I’ve fallen to your level. Sorry if it disappoints.”
Marcus chuckled quietly. “Not that. You bedding Amy is marvelous because I know you’d never compromise a lady. You have feelings for her.” When Henry didn’t respond, he added, “I feel vindicated. I knew you were perfect for each other. God knows why it took you both so long to see it.”