Raphe shook his head. “The last one left ten years ago when their roof fell in. I still feel guilty. I know I ought to have done more, but I was barely keeping us afloat as it was. So I turned my back on the problem and ignored it.”
He looked so wretched, the poor man. What a burden he’d been carrying all this time. “It’s not your fault there was no money, Raphe. You did the best you could for your family. There’s no shame in that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I realise there’s no income to be had from Marcross without a deal of investment first. Though the land is fertile enough, it will need a lot of work. It’s bound to be overgrown and in a shocking state. I’m not sure if it’s worth investing in the amount of labour and machinery it will require making it viable. The returns from farming are not what they once were, what with cheap grain imports and the lack of labour as everyone moves to work in the cities. Unless you move with the times and invest in machinery and modern techniques, you’re sunk.”
“Oh?” Greer asked, interested.
Raphe frowned. “Why the hell are we standing here discussing farming? There is a comfortable bed over there and I’ve been climbing out of my skin with the desire to get you out of your clothes since the day we met.”
“Well, don’t ask me.” Greer replied tartly. “You’re the one with all the experience.”
He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and gave a short laugh.
“What?” Greer asked, wondering what the trouble was.
Raphe looked at her from under his lashes, looking oddly uncertain. “I’m—a little nervous,” he admitted.
Greer snorted with amusement and then clapped a hand over her mouth as she realised that might not be an appropriate response. Thankfully, Raphe laughed, recognising the ridiculousness of the situation. Smiling, Greer hurried to stand in front of him, slipping her arms about his waist.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be gentle with you,” she whispered.
“Wretch,” he replied with affection, but took her in his arms and kissed her, his tongue toying lazily with hers, though her reaction to the languid exploration was a fierce throb of desire. His brief show of nerves seemed to evaporate like smoke as the kissed deepened, his usual raw confidence blazing as the heat rose between them.
“That’s a good start,” she said, breathless as he pulled back, watching her to gauge her reaction. “But I think you should undress me now.”
“Good Lord. Bold as brass,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“I’m afraid so,” she agreed, turning around. “It fastens in the back,” she added helpfully, grinning over her shoulder at him.
His eyes glittered as he turned his attention to the fastenings. Despite having experienced before the speed with which his clever fingers could move, Greer was still a little stunned by how quickly he divested her of her gown and corset. In short order, she was wearing nothing but her shift, and her breath caught as he reached down, grasping the hem of the fine material. He drew it up over her head and flung it aside and she felt his breath as a hot tickle on the back of her neck.
Greer gasped as his warm hands slid up over her hips, gooseflesh chasing all over her as he pulled her back against him. She shivered as cold buttons touched her overheated flesh and his palms coasted higher, mapping the curves of her body.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “My own, my wife.”
Greer closed her eyes, touched by the reverence with which he spoke. He cupped her breasts and gently squeezed and caressed, rolling the tender pink buds until they were hard and aching.
“Raphe,” she said, speaking his name like a plea as he slid one hand between her legs and tickled through the silky, coarse curls. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, the strength in her legs disappearing as his fingers sought and found the peak of her sex. He chuckled as she swayed, one hand banding about her to keep her upright as he toyed with her, teasing touches that made her breathing grow harsh. She was giddy with wanting, the world around her becoming vague and insubstantial as her attention focused on the one thing that mattered. The feeling was delicious and yet he kept his touch infuriatingly light, not quite enough to send her to the place she needed to rush headlong towards. She clutched at his arms, rolling her hips with abandon, trying to encourage him to hurry, but he only laughed softly, shaking his head.
“Oh, no,” he murmured against her neck. “You’ve done it now, sweet girl. You wanted me from the start. You chased me until I was yours. Well, now I am. You wanted the devil in your bed and now you’ll have him, all of him, but that means you’ll suffer the consequences.”
Greer whimpered, as much from pleasure as frustration.
“Please,” she whispered.
Raphe nipped at her ear. “Not a chance in hell,” he replied darkly, sweeping her up and carrying her to the bed.
He laid her gently down and stretched out beside her, his gaze burning her like she stood beside a furnace as he looked his fill but did not touch. Greer reached for him, but he caught her hand, kissed every fingertip in turn and pressed her hand firmly back to the mattress.
“No,” he said.
Greer glared at him, indignant. “But I want to touch you.”
“Oh, you will,” he promised, his voice like black velvet sliding over her skin, making her shiver again.
He reached out, his fingers trailing idly around her nipple before taking a circuitous path back between her thighs. The elegant hand explored her at his leisure, sometimes caressing, sometimes dragging the blunt edges of his nails over her sensitive flesh, occasionally delivering a gentle pinch until she was nothing but nerve endings, quivering expectantly for the next crumb of pleasure he deigned to deliver.
“Do you enjoy being at my mercy?” he asked, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them before.
Excitement prickled over her skin at the tone of his voice, at the possessive quality she heard there. She stared up at him and nodded, beyond words.
“Do you trust me, love?”
She nodded again, studying him, noting the faint flush of colour high on his cheeks that told her he was not so calm as he looked. His expression was intent now, and she realised his breathing was unsteady.
“I would never hurt you, Greer. You know that, don’t you?”
Greer smiled at him then, at the absurdity of this man ever breaking her trust. “Do your worst, my own devil.”
Satisfaction glinted in his eyes, and he climbed over her, straddling her hips and taking hold of her wrists. He raised her arms over her head, holding them in place with one hand as the other tugged at his cravat, freeing the long length of fabric with deft movements. Greer gasped, a little shocked, as he flung the pillows aside and tied her wrists firmly to the brass headboard.
He sat back, watching her, letting her see the dark enjoyment he took in having her laid out for him, helpless. Yet she didn’t feel the least bit helpless. There was a strange sense of power in knowing how seeing her this way made him feel. Raphe met her gaze, and she smiled, giving him permission to carry on. He bent and kissed her, devouring her as the weight of him settled over her. Greer’s pulse sped, finding her vulnerable position bound and naked beneath his fully clothed form unbearably erotic. He pressed against the throbbing place between her thighs, the cloth of his trousers rasping against the delicate flesh and she mewled, writhing beneath him as he chuckled and kissed a path to her breasts. He suckled and nipped at her until she was dizzy and disorientated, too giddy to appreciate the path his mouth took next until his dark head bent between her legs and she felt the exquisite wet heat of his mouth.
She hoped then that he would take pity, that he would bring her swiftly to the edge she teetered on, but he was deliciously cruel. With ruthless sensuality, he kept her hovering on the farthest point, never allowing her to tip over. Greer cried out and pleaded with him, begging for release, but he alternately soothed and teased her. She was somewhere beyond sanity, driven wild by his patient amusement and
soothed as he interspersed the torment with such tenderness that she became a helpless puddle of sensation, entirely malleable in his hands. At intervals he would pause and strip off an item of clothing and Greer watched, devouring the sight of his powerful body, her hands longing to touch and explore the fascinating masculine terrain he taunted her with. So close, and yet out of reach.
At last he pushed the small clothes from his lean hips and Greer stared, aroused beyond bearing by the vision of him, erect and proud. Perhaps when they’d begun this intimate dance, there might have been a moment when she’d have felt daunted by the thought of that crude male part of him inside her. Now she could only pant with impatience, desperate for him to fill the clamouring emptiness that needed him so urgently.
“So lovely, my sweet girl,” he crooned, returning to her, the fierce heat of his body the most voluptuous pleasure, the coarse hair on his chest rasping deliciously against her nipples as he bent over her. He lingered, nuzzling her neck as he made another thorough inventory of her body with hands and mouth, returning to sample the throbbing bud between her spread legs.
“Please, oh, please,” she begged, beyond shame, utterly abandoned.
“Yes, love,” he murmured. “Because I must have you now.”
He kept his word and there was no more teasing, only a rush of sensation, so powerful it shattered her, her reaction so overpowering he had to hold her down, hold her still to keep her in place as the waves crashed over her and unholy sounds tore from her throat like some wild thing screaming in the darkness. Ripples of pleasure rolled over her in a continuous surge until she was wrung out, exhausted from the effort.
Dimly, she noticed Raphe tugging at the bindings at her wrists, gently massaging her arms as he brought them down beside her body again. He was breathing erratically, his chest rising and falling hard and fast as he settled between her legs. Greer sucked in a breath as the hot, blunt head pressed gently against her still pulsing flesh, nudging a little inside.
Raphe groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. He was shaking with the effort of holding himself still. Greer did not want him to wait.
“It’s all right,” she said, tugging at his hips, relishing the feel of his skin beneath her palms, smooth and passion damp. “I’m fine. Don’t wait.”
He let out a shuddering breath, turning to look at her. His eyes were an unearthly blue black in the dim lamplight, blazing with desire. He shook his head, a smile flickering upon his sensuous mouth.
“I’m not done with you yet, love,” he murmured.
Greer protested, moving her hips to encourage him deeper whilst her body clamoured for him.
Raphe gasped, but then laughed softly. “So impatient,” he scolded. “I’ll have to punish you for that.”
He allowed more of his weight to pin her down and bent his head to her breast, sucking until she was flushed and mindless with need. Chuckling, he pushed a little farther inside her.
“Hold still this time,” he warned her, his gaze bright with devilry.
Greer did as he asked, feeling her body pulsing around him, trying to pull him in deeper.
He groaned. “You feel so good,” he ground out. “So hot and tight, I think I’ll die from the pleasure of it.”
“You’ll kill me first,” she retorted, promptly soothed by a slow kiss that melted her bones.
She relaxed, and he rewarded her by easing farther inside. Her body accommodated the strange invasion with eager pulses of pleasure, throbbing and aching, just on the edge of pain as he held still, watching her face.
“I love you,” he said, a fine tremor running continuously through him.
Greer laughed with the joy of it, the words finding their place in her heart, warming her. She’d known. Of course she’d known, but she had still wanted to hear him tell her so and was glad she had waited, given him the time he’d needed.
“I know,” she said, breathless as she stroked over his back and shoulders. “I love you too. I think I knew it would be you, before we even met.”
He ducked his head, kissing her as he sank home. Greer’s breath caught, the discomfort momentarily outweighing the pleasure. He stroked her, kissing her until she relaxed, and the pleasure of having him inside her soon eclipsed all else. Though they remained quite still, her body clamoured around him, throbbing until he finally relented and moved, just a little, tilting her hips just so. The world whited out and she clung to him, shuddering in ecstasy, her pleasure driven higher as she heard him cry out. He trembled in her arms, jolting as his release tore through him. His heat filled her, drawing the moment on until they collapsed together, sweating and exhausted in a tangle of limbs.
His breath was a harsh rasp of damp heat against her neck, and she stroked his hair, beyond happy. Gradually he calmed, and they lay together, peacefully.
“You’re really rather good at that,” she observed earnestly.
He shook with laughter, burying his face in the pillow and snorting with amusement.
“What?” she asked, pushing at him.
He rolled to his side and pulled her back into his arms so that their faces were level. Laughter danced in his eyes as he struggled to keep a straight face.
“Th-Thank you, love,” he said, a trifle unsteadily. “I take that as a great compliment.”
“So you should,” she retorted, and then flashed him a swift grin, snuggling into his arms.
They lay like that, content for a few moments, before Greer sat up.
“I’m famished,” she said. “Let’s see what they’ve left us to eat.”
“Good Lord, I thought I’d done enough to make you keep still for five minutes at least,” he complained, tugging the pillows up behind him so he could sit up. Greer stuck her tongue out at him and hurried into the adjoining dressing room to clean herself up, but ignored the pretty wrap left out for her use. Raphe watched her as she emerged and padded, stark naked, to the table and began lifting the covers.
“Do you want anything?” she asked him, glancing up and hiding a smile as she noticed the arrested look in his eyes.
“Yes,” he growled. “You. Come back here.”
Greer shook her head and picked up a small savoury tart, popping it in her mouth and chewing. She sighed with pleasure and picked up another. “These are divine. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
“You promised to obey me, wife,” he reminded her, mock severity drawing his eyebrows down.
“Good luck with that,” she replied with a snort of amusement.
“If you don’t do as you’re told, I might be forced to spank you,” he warned her.
She paused, a delicate cheese tart suspended in mid-air as she stared at him with interest.
“You’d like that,” she observed, realising that he did like the idea, very much. Curious now, she deliberately ate the tart and reached for another.
“Do you want me to punish you?” he demanded, an edge of excitement to his voice that made her breath catch.
Good Lord, they’d only just—and she—and he clearly wanted—good Lord.
“Maybe,” she said, giving him a wicked look before reaching for another of the delicious pastries.
Chapter 17
Dearest Aisling,
We have all missed you a great deal this Christmas, my dear sister.
Thank you kindly for my Christmas gift. It is a truly splendid waistcoat. However, please tell me you were not responsible for that garish monstrosity I saw Ashton sporting yesterday. I think it burned my eyeballs.
―Excerpt of a letter from the Right Hon’ble Conor Baxter, The Viscount Harleston (Eldest son of the Right Hon’ble Luke and Kitty Baxter, the Earl and Countess of Trevick) to his sister, Lady Aisling Baxter.
2nd January 1841, on the road to Marcross Manor.
At Laurie and Arabella’s insistence, they remained at Royle House until after New Year. Raphe knew he was further than ever in Bainbridge’s debt for how discreetly both their friends and the household staff treated them. If they fel
t like socialising, the couple welcomed their presence, but did not bat an eyelid if they disappeared and didn’t surface once all day.
By the new year, however, Raphe could not be persuaded to linger, no matter how great the temptation. So, with warm farewells, they set off on the journey to Monmouthshire.
As the carriage drew them ever closer towards a life he had left behind a long time ago, Raphe felt increasingly on edge, a fact that was not lost on his bride.
“Don’t fret so,” she said, taking his hand in hers as he watched the countryside he remembered from his youth appear around them. “It will be fine.”
Raphe snorted before leaning down to kiss her. “My wife, the optimist,” he said darkly.
Silently, she reached down into the carpetbag at her feet and handed him the handsome leather book his brothers had given him for Christmas. The name Marcross Manor glinted in the winter sunlight. Raphe took it, smoothing his hands over the fine brown leather binding.
“Perhaps I am optimistic,” she said, her voice quiet. “But what of it? What’s the worst that can happen? The estate is crumbling, we know that. So either we save it or tear it down and start again.”
“Simple,” he said, smiling at her.
“It is simple,” she retorted.
“Do you have any idea how much that will cost?” he asked her gently.
Greer shrugged. “Not the foggiest. Do you?”
“Not yet,” he said, sighing. “Before we married, I wrote to all the artisans in the area, asking them to quote for the various repairs.”
“And?” she asked, interested.
He shrugged, a sick feeling coiling in his belly. “The quotes are all waiting at the manor. I didn’t want to spoil our honeymoon.”
“Oh, Raphe,” she said, shaking her head and reaching up to stroke his cheek. “As if anything could have.”
Raphe captured her hand, turning into it and pressing a kiss to her gloved palm. “You could have married someone like Bainbridge,” he said gruffly. “Someone rich who could keep you in comfort.”
Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7) Page 20
