Lady Beauchamp's Proposal

by Secret Cravings Publishing

  By the time he had finished with her other foot, she was nothing but a quivering mass upon the bed.

  “This is what you call pleasure?” she panted, looking at him dazedly through half-closed lids. She tried to look affronted, but she knew that she probably looked anything but that.

  “Not even close,” he whispered, shifting back up the bed toward her head. Lying alongside her, he propped himself up on one elbow before leisurely running a finger from the indentation between her collar bones, down the valley between her heaving breasts, then along her abdomen to her navel—where he stopped. She sensed his gaze on her face again, and she glanced up at him. He was studying her, and a lump formed in her throat. The look in his eyes—it was almost as if he cared for her.

  She swallowed. She couldn’t stand the intensity of his gaze. It hurt to see such naked emotion. Yes, that’s what it was. He was looking at her as if his heart was in his eyes.

  “James,” she breathed, and brushed a lock of silky black hair back from his forehead. “What is it?”

  The expression in his eyes immediately lightened and his mouth tipped into a rakish smile. “I’m just planning what I’m going to do next.”

  Before she could do or say anything else, he dipped his head and kissed her, and the poignant spell that had surrounded them both, instantly dissipated. He cradled her jaw with one hand while the other began to tease her breasts again, but it didn’t stay there long. His fingers swept lower, and then he was cupping the aching mound of her sex. And then one long finger slid between her slick folds—she was so wet, she was almost embarrassed—and with a deftness she should have found quite shocking, he found the very center of her being and stroked, around and around. And with that one touch her world exploded. She arched her back and cried out as a lightning bolt of absolute pleasure ignited her body from somewhere deep within, and shot charge after charge through her until eventually she melted back against the covers of the bed, completely spent, floating on a still, black velvet sea.

  The word pleasure did not even begin to describe what she had just experienced. She couldn’t even think how to define what James had done for her. She felt as if she’d been tossed up to heaven. And given the blissful feeling that was still spreading through her entire body, she rather thought she was still there.

  She wasn’t sure how long she drifted in this state, but suddenly, she was aware of James stretching out beside her again. But something was different.

  This time he was naked.

  Her eyes flew open. The glorious vision stretched out beside her was enough to jolt her out of her languor. She rolled toward James so her skin was pressed to his, his long, fully erect cock pressing into her belly like a silken-sheathed rod of iron. He was so hot and hard all over, such a perfect specimen of masculine power and beauty, that her body began to thrum with anticipation again, and she felt a fresh rush of slick heat between her thighs.

  She raised a hand and ran it lightly from one broad shoulder, down his heavily muscled arm, across one lean hip to his firm buttock—and paused when her fingers came into contact with a long raised ridge—a scar—that slashed downward across the back of his thigh. To her mortification, she couldn’t suppress her gasp of surprise in time.

  James’s hand covered hers and his brow creased with concern. “I should have warned you about my battle scar, Beth. Although it’s far from pretty, I was lucky compared to most.”

  She swallowed. “Does it still hurt? I’m sorry if I—”

  “No, it doesn’t hurt. It was mainly superficial damage from a bayonet that I didn’t see coming.” His mouth quirked into a wry smile. “Believe me, the Frenchman that did it looked a lot worse at the end of the altercation than I did.”

  She frowned. “You make light of it. I don’t understand how you can do that.”

  He gently raised her hand from where it had been resting on the back of his leg, and brought it to his lips. “You are helping me to forget,” he said in a low voice, and his eyes revealed such a raw, emotional intensity that she felt she was really seeing him for the first time.

  “Since you came here, all I can think about is you, Beth. You are like a balm for my soul. It’s not just wanting. I need you. And I just thought you should know that.” He gently pushed her down onto the mattress, covering her body with his, and kissed her with such gentle reverence, she had to close her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. A rising tide of conflicting emotions she hadn’t bargained on feeling, suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

  This relationship—if one could even call it that—it was only supposed to be about sex. So why did it suddenly feel like it was more than that? Her foolish heart surged with an acute longing at the thought that James needed her for more than the use of her body. She had never been needed by anyone before, least of all Hugh. The knowledge was powerful, yet humbling at the same time.

  But over-riding all of these sensations was the sharp stab of her guilty conscience. James seemed to be exposing his very soul to her, and he didn’t even know her real name, let alone that she was married. He had been unexpectedly candid with her, and all she had done, and would continue to do, was lie to him.

  Her duplicity threatened to rise up and choke her.

  “Are you all right, Beth?” James had pulled away and was staring down at her with concern.

  “Yes,” she whispered, not able to meet his eyes.

  He lifted her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “I promise I won’t get you with child, if that’s what you’re worried about. I should have mentioned it earlier. But even if it’s not that, I’ll stop if you want me too.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and placed a trembling hand on the expanse of his chest where his heart lay. “No it’s not that. I trust that you’ll be careful. And I definitely don’t want you to stop.” She reached up and touched his jaw. “I need you too.”

  It wasn’t much, but at least that wasn’t a lie. It was all she had to offer.

  His mouth suddenly tipped into a sensual smile and one of his large hands closed over her breast. “I’m so glad you said that, my sweet.”

  He pushed his impressive erection against her belly and she arched her back slightly, reveling in the feel of him sliding against her skin. How would it feel when he was inside her? She began to part her legs beneath him, suddenly impatient with the overpowering need for him to fill her.

  “Soon, my angel, soon,” he whispered against her ear. “I don’t want to go too quickly in case I hurt you.” He suddenly lowered his head and suckled her taut nipples in turn, whilst one of his hands slid between her legs; his fingers stroked her already dripping folds, teased her aching core, making her writhe and moan all over again. She opened her legs even more, and he slid two fingers deep within her to stroke her passage, and a desperate sound—something between a cry and a deep guttural groan—escaped her throat.

  “James,” she moaned. “Please…I want you—”

  He covered her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue deeply as he pushed her legs slightly farther apart with his own. And then, at last, she felt the head of his cock nudging where his talented fingers had been only moments before.

  He pushed into her with a long slow thrust, and despite her readiness and willingness, she cried out at the sudden unfamiliar incursion, the intense burning friction. It had been so long since she’d had sex, and James was so big, much bigger than Hugh. She realized she was panting, her breath a frantic rasp against James’s shoulder.

  James immediately stopped and stroked her face. “Beth, do you want me to stop?”

  “No…” She tried to smile through the discomfort. “As I said before, it’s been a while. I just…need a moment. That’s all.” She secretly prayed that she was right. She couldn’t bear it if she didn’t enjoy this, and that her worst fears would be confirmed after all; that there was something wrong with her. Or that James was too big for her. That all this had been for naught.

  “Of course.” James stayed perfectly still, re
sting on his forearms so that he was suspended above her body. She could see how much this cessation of movement cost him; he was gritting his teeth, and the thick tendons of his neck stood out. She closed her eyes and deliberately tried to relax her protesting muscles; she adjusted the angle of her hips slightly, and wrapped her legs around his. The intense pressure immediately began to ease.

  James seemed to notice too. “Better?” he murmured against her temple.

  “Much.” She arched her back, encouraging him to move again, and with a shuddering groan he surged all the way into her to the hilt of his iron-hard shaft.

  “Aaah.” Her cry of agonized pleasure was loud even to her own ears. She gripped his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck.

  “Beth,” he panted. “Oh, God…you feel like heaven.”

  He flexed his hips backwards, slowly withdrawing, and this time the sliding friction was exquisite. He thrust into her again, and her hips pushed back against him, the muscles of her inner sheath greedily clenching around his hot, hard flesh, not wanting to let him go. Yes.

  He started to stroke in and out of her with a surer, steadier rhythm, and for the first time ever, she began to feel something—a deep coiling tension that pulled tighter and tighter as James thrust faster and harder. Yes. This was what she had been missing. Yes. This pleasure that almost bordered on pain. She clawed at James’s back and her ragged gasps mingled with his equally frenzied breathing. This feeling couldn’t go on much longer; she almost couldn’t bear it, this white-hot whirlwind of sensation.

  She screamed as her womb suddenly convulsed, and she was lost in a storm of blinding ecstasy, as wave after wave of spasmodic pleasure coursed through her. She was lost, yet she’d never felt more whole or alive in her life.

  She was barely conscious of James tearing himself from her, and calling her name as he shuddered with his own release on the bed beside her. One of his heavy arms was flung across her belly. The smell of his seed, her musk, and their sweat mingled to create the intoxicating scent of desire fulfilled.

  She had to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat. James had shown her all that she had been missing. And it had been glorious. So why did she suddenly feel like crying?

  Because he is everything you’ve ever wanted and this bliss cannot last, her conscience whispered.

  And when the time came for this to be over, as it had to be, she rather suspected someone’s heart would be broken. Perhaps hers had even started to crack a little already.

  * * * *

  Rothsburgh lay face down beside Beth, gasping and sweating, and so damned replete, so beyond satisfied, he could barely think. In his long history of carnal indulgence, he’d had all types of amazing sex. But this, what he had just shared with Beth, had transcended every single one of his past experiences.

  And the reason for that decided difference, he definitely didn’t want to think about.

  He turned his head to the side to steal a glance at her, this woman that affected him like no other. She was lying on her back, her blonde hair spreading in tousled abandon over her naked breasts and his arm that still lay possessively across her slender torso.

  His.

  Beth was his at last. Perhaps that was the reason—simple as it was—that he felt the way he did. He’d wanted this woman for weeks, and now that she’d agreed to be with him and he’d sampled her abundant delights, he felt like the richest, indeed the most blessed man alive.

  Too spent to do anything else for the moment, he let his eyes drink in the sight of her. And he thought he’d never seen her look as beautiful as she did right now. His gaze wandered across her perfect face—her eyes were still closed and her cheeks were flushed—down to her luscious breasts, their rosy peaks rising and falling with her breathing, just beckoning him to take them into his mouth again. Despite his bone deep satiation, he felt his cock begin to stiffen at the thought.

  He knew it wouldn’t be long before he had her again.

  He had no doubt she had reached her peak more than once, and the base male in him was gratified no end that he had satisfied her so well. Indeed, he’d never known another lover to be so aroused and responsive. He was in awe of the fact that when he’d touched her sex for the very first time, she had come almost immediately. And then when he’d been inside her, he had felt her clench so tightly, so forcefully about him, he’d nearly lost control and expelled his seed into her.

  Rothsburgh smiled to himself, thinking of all the other ways he would make her climax, again and again before the night was over.

  He pushed himself up onto one elbow, and reached out to caress her face. The back of his fingers touched her flawless skin and then he froze. There were tears on her cheek.

  Horror gripped his heart. Oh no, no, no. Have I done something wrong?

  “What is it, Beth?” His voice sounded strained with a panic he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t bear it if she hadn’t enjoyed the experience; that she would not want to do this again. “Please, tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

  He heard her sigh before she turned her head slightly and looked at him, her grey eyes shining like liquid pools of grey moonlight. “No. It’s not that at all.” She smiled then—a small, sad, almost broken smile that tore at his heart. “I…I have a confession to make…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  He searched her eyes briefly, trying to find the answer in their solemn depths. What in God’s name could she mean? Whatever it was, it was certainly bothering her. It occurred to him that she was about to reveal something deeply personal about herself, which meant perhaps she trusted him a little. And even though anxiety gnawed at him, he also found the idea that she would confide in him, more than a little bit pleasing.

  She was watching him with the type of expression that suggested she was summoning her courage to speak again. Perhaps it would help if he could lighten the moment. He forced himself to pull a crooked, nonchalant smile.

  “Hmm, Mrs. Eliott, it would appear that you have a deep, dark secret.” He leant over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, tasting her tears before he whispered against her ear. “I’m not sure if a confession sounds ominous or intriguing.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, and he drew back just in time to catch a fleeting look of fear in her eyes before her eyelids fluttered downward. “It’s about my relationship…with my husband…”

  The image of her in the grip of one of her nightmares, calling out to someone to leave her alone, suddenly sprang into his mind. Had her husband abused her? Was that what she was about to tell him? His jaw clenched and his hands fisted. If that was the case, he was sorry the bastard was dead because he’d really love to kill him slowly with his bare hands.

  He sought her eyes and steeled himself to ask the question as gently as he could. He had to know. “Beth. Did your husband hurt you? I know you’ve had bad dreams—when you were unwell—and I’ve wondered…”

  Her eyes widened a fraction and she shook her head. “No…no it’s not that. He…he never physically abused me if that’s what you mean. No…you’ve misunderstood me. I’ve been very unclear. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly trying to reassemble her thoughts before she met his gaze again. A shy smile touched her lips and she reached out a hand to cradle his rigid jaw. “I just wanted to tell you that tonight was the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt…that I’ve ever had…I mean, you gave me the gift of my first ever truly satisfying sexual experience…and I just wanted to tell you that, James. And to say thank you.”

  “What?” Holy hell. His jaw dropped. It couldn’t be true.

  She’d been married for how long? He realized he really didn’t know even that basic fact. But regardless of whether it had been a month or several years, how could her husband not have been able to satisfy such an innately sensual, responsive creature? It defied all logic. The man must have been a completely useless dunderhead in bed.

  He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my bluntness, Beth, but just so I’m clear,
you’re actually telling me this is the first time you’ve ever come.”

  “Yes,” she said simply, her mouth curving into the same, small broken smile she had given him before. He searched her face and he could see she was utterly sincere.

  His poor beautiful Beth. No wonder she had exploded under his touch.

  “I…I’m truly astounded, Beth.” But that wasn’t quite true. He was more than astounded. He was humbled. His heart swelled with an unfamiliar feeling of tenderness. And for once he welcomed the feeling.

  He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently taking his time, savoring her sweetness.

  His. Yes, she was undeniably his after a confession like that.

  Forcing himself to break the kiss, he caught her gaze again. He needed to say more. He wanted to let her know how much her revelation meant to him. “You do me great honor, Beth by telling me such a thing. That I am the man that has brought you to climax for the very first time.”

  She smiled, then rather surprisingly, blushed. “Well, it was twice actually.”

  He smiled back. “Even better.”

  He felt his cock stiffen and he gently pressed it against her hip. Her breathing quickened and he saw something spark to life in her eyes.

  He had an idea. Instead of kissing her mouth again, he lowered his head and ran a trail of slow, teasing kisses across her flat belly, down to the thatch of blonde curls concealing her sex.

  “James,” she gasped and he felt her hand grip the back of his head. “You can’t…”

  He raised his head and smiled his deliberately rakish smile. “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  He stroked a finger along her cleft; it already glistened with moisture. It appeared she wasn’t as perturbed as she seemed. He caught her gaze and licked his finger, pleased to see her blush again. “You tasted me. Now it’s my turn.” He gently spread her legs and she didn’t resist.