by Rose Gordon
“Only married six days and you're already tired of me,” Henry said with what had to be an overdone sigh.
“No, it's not that.” Never that. She'd been having a wonderful time talking with him during the day and making love to him at night, but she was just ready to be done traveling. “I'd like to spend time together doing something other than riding in the carriage, that's all.”
“We do. At night. But if you'd rather we stop more often so we're not in the carriage so long, that can be arranged...” He waggled his eyebrows and flashed a wolfish smile at her. When she shook her head, he said, “I understand what you're saying. If we don't stop too often today, we can be back to Watson Estate about an hour after nightfall.”
“Would you mind?”
He gave his head a single shake. “Not at all; I'm rather tired of being in the carriage all the time, too.”
“Thank you.” She sighed and glanced out the window. That hadn't been so difficult. She didn't know why she'd been so worried to ask him about returning home sooner. He hadn't given her any reason to fear him. Quite the opposite; he'd been nothing but kind to her. Helping her dress each morning, keeping her covered, being gentle and considerate of her during their nightly activities, he didn't seem to have a hint of maliciousness in him. And for some reason, as comforting as that was to her, she couldn't comprehend why he was so kind to her. He certainly didn't have to be. She'd shown up on his doorstep insisting they marry, though he was the wrong brother, and that wasn't the only lie she'd told him. She'd lied about her financial circumstances, and of course, there was the matter of the omission of why she'd really come to England...
Her throat constricted. For years, she'd been ostracized and compared to Madison. Of course she hadn't measured up. She couldn't possibly. Her looks paled in comparison, as did her personality, it would seem. Those were things she couldn't change. Sure, she could apply rouge, but that only made young ladies look like whores; and while one could pretend to be sweeter than sugar, one could not make themselves funny and charming. You're either born with the ability to be clever and witty, or you're not. And Laura was not. No, to everyone from her stepmother to her first husband and all other relations and acquaintances, Laura was unlovable. Too thin, too plain, and too quiet, she had no redeeming qualities. Which is why Robbie made a mockery of her by taking other lovers, who'd brag and shame her, and eventually leaving her completely to find the woman he'd claimed he'd loved all along, making her face the shame and humiliation of being unwanted yet again.
But was that really Madison Banks' fault? The answer came down on her with the crushing weight of a mountain. No. Robbie might have preferred her, but Madison wasn't any more at fault for Robbie's abandonment of Laura than Laura could help being unnoticeable. Henry was right, and sadly she'd known it all along and had refused to see it; Robbie's harsh treatment of her had been deliberate. He'd all but told her as much on their wedding day when he'd revealed his role in securing their engagement and made sure she knew that all he wanted from her he'd get when her father died: his land. That's all she was good for to him; he didn't love her. She might have been optimistic that she could change his mind, but despite her many efforts, he held true to his hurtful words and never loved her.
But was revenge against Madison a real or necessary means? Laura was married to Henry now, and though she might not know him overly well, she knew he'd never be heartless with her. Her own heart slammed in her chest. Would that change if he were to find out why she'd come? He might not know about her true motives, but discovering her connection to the family wouldn't be too difficult if she was recognized.
She cleared her throat and, simultaneously, her thoughts. There wasn't anything she could do about it right now, so there was no sense in ruining the afternoon worrying about it. She'd just have to make sure they stayed in the country and avoided any family events. “How long will we stay at Watson Estate?”
“How long do you wish to stay?” he countered.
“I don't know,” she admitted. She didn't want to overstep her place and ask if he had another residence or if he lived with his family permanently; but she'd be lying if she didn't admit she was curious about his permanent living arrangements and how close they were to certain family members. How ironic that just a few weeks ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to be introduced to his family—his entire family—and now she wanted to avoid them as if they carried Small Pox.
“Did you wish to go to London to participate in the remainder of the Season?”
“No,” she blurted, startled. She cast him a smile and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What I mean is that that's not necessary. I'm plenty content to stay with you in the country. I was just making conversation.”
He shook his head. “You're a terrible liar; did you know that?”
“Well, it's not as if I spend large quantities of time perfecting the habit.”
“What is it you really wish to ask?” His face softened. “Are you afraid of meeting my family?”
She bit her lip. That was an accurate statement. Except it wasn't necessarily his mother and brothers and their wives she wanted to avoid. It was his extended family, his cousins, to be exact; and to be more exact, there was one in particular she truly had no wish to meet. Surely, Henry wasn't that close to his female cousins. Not only were they not of the same sex, therefore not likely to have any of the same interests, but they'd grown up an ocean apart. It wasn't as if they'd forged some sort of great friendship on the rare occasion they'd been in each other’s presence over the past five years.
Henry's curious eyes caught her attention. He was still waiting for an answer. “No,” she said, as evenly as she could. “I'm sure Elijah might be surprised to see me, but I don't fear his reaction.”
“And what of my other brother or my mother? Do you worry they'll look upon you with disdain because you're an American?”
“N—no.” She hadn't thought about that. “Will they?”
He shook his head, a rueful smile spreading his face. “No. I can't think of a single person in my family who won't like you simply because you're my wife.”
Laura could think of such a family member but didn't want to make mention of her and bring about any questions. “No, they won't,” she said, forcing a smile to hide her nerves. She might be spared having to see his family, any of them, for a few weeks longer until they came back from London, but that didn't mean they'd automatically like her. The idea was unthinkable.
“Sure they will,” he said with a confidence she didn't understand. “Everyone instantly loved Caroline. Everyone had always loved Amelia.” He shrugged. “So you see, you have nothing to worry about.”
Laura narrowed her eyes on him. “Didn't you say you had a married sister?”
He reached his hand up and idly scratched his chin and crossed his ankles.
“Henry?”
He yawned and closed his eyes. “I think a nap is in order.”
“I knew it!” she said with a clap of her hands. “Does everyone despise her husband?”
“No. Nobody despises him.” He twisted his lips and squinted at her as if he were deep in thought about how to explain his way out of this. “Sir Wallace is perfect for my sister. It just took us a little longer to see it.”
“Uh huh.” She crossed her arms, kicked off her slippers and put her feet on his lap. “And what made you change your mind about him?”
He grabbed her foot and idly rubbed the bottom. “Nothing happened that changed our minds, exactly. We finally saw in him what Edwina does.”
“Which is?”
“A man who loves her dearly and wouldn't dream of doing anything to hurt her. What's not to love about a person like that?”
What's not to love, indeed.
~Chapter Twenty-Six~
“Would you like to go on a picnic today?”
Laura sat up and leaned back against the pillows, taking the sheet with her. “I'd enjoy that very much.”
“Excellen
t. How about if we picnic around noon? This morning I will write to a seamstress in the village to see when she can be out to take your measurements.”
Laura frowned. “While your plan sounds good, the thunder I just heard didn't.”
“No, it didn't,” Henry agreed, peering out the curtains. The dark grey sky ruled out any possibility of riding horses and a picnic. He offered her an apologetic grin. “There are still parts of the house I could show you.”
A chill ran up her spine. Would he take her into his bedroom? While pretending to be Elijah, she knew he'd taken her into his brother's room; but now that he had nothing to hide, would he take her to his real room? How strange that the very idea excited her. It wasn't as if they hadn't already shared a bed, but the thought of him taking her up there and fulfilling one of his fantasies seemed rather exciting. “I'd like that very much.”
Unfortunately, what he thought to show her (the yellow and blue salons) was not what she'd term as interesting, and before she lost her nerve, she spoke a sentence she never imagined coming from her lips, “Can we go back to the family wing and see your room?”
“My room?”
Laura bit her lip to keep from grinning at the look of surprise on his face and nodded once. “If you don't mind. It's just that you took me into Elijah's room before. I'd like to see yours this time.”
He shrugged. “I don't mind, but I do feel compelled to warn you, you're probably not going to find anything of interest in there.”
Oh how wrong he was! She smoothed her skirts. “Perhaps, not. But I'd still like to see it, nonetheless.”
“This way,” he said, gesturing in front of them. Silence, broken only by soft swishing sounds of her slippers on the floor, filled the air as they went to his room. He opened the door for her and stood back while she walked inside.
Decorated much like his brother's room, there were only marginal differences in the placement of smaller items, such as personal effects, on the vanity and desk. One door of the oak armoire was ajar and the bottom drawer was out an inch. The blue basin beside his bed had a thin coat of dust covering it, the same as the pitcher inside. “I take it that it's been a while since you've slept in here,” she said casually, running her fingers along the emerald coverlet.
Henry nodded once, standing stock-still by the door. What was he thinking? Was it the same thing she was? A chill ran down her spine, spurring her on. “Why don't you close the door?” she suggested, in a tone he'd take to mean wasn't really a suggestion at all, but a command.
“Laura?”
She grabbed the gold braided chord that went around her waist and pulled loose the knot then idly twirled one end of the tassel with her right hand. “Hmm?”
He swallowed visibly, which was a good thing for her, considering how terribly wrong her last attempt at seducing him had gone.
“The door,” she prompted, reaching up to slip the top two buttons of her gown free.
“You don't—”
“Then leave it open,” she murmured, slipping another button free.
Henry stepped inside and closed the door, then leaned against it. “You don't have to do this.”
“No,” she agreed, walking toward him. “I want to.”
He slipped the lock and started walking toward her.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Her hand shot out and she wagged a finger at him. “You stay over there for now. This is my seduction and we'll do things my way or not at all.”
Henry froze.
With her bodice gaping just a bit, she walked over to his desk and moved the stool to the middle of the room. Then she went to where he was standing, watching her, grabbed his hand and led him to the chair. “Sit.”
He sat.
She stepped in front of him and guided his legs apart so she could stand between them. She continued unbuttoning her bodice and took a deep breath before reaching her hands up to peel it off her shoulders. Locking eyes with Henry, she did just that and then let all the heavy fabric drop to the floor in a puddle at her feet.
Clad now in only her corset, shift and stockings, she took a deep swallow and reached for the buttons on his coat. She removed his coat and waistcoat and then loosened his cravat. She pulled to remove it and he craned his neck forward to kiss her. She pressed her fingers to his lips and made a tsk, tsk noise. “There will be none of that, Mr. Banks.”
He swallowed in a way that made his Adam's apple bob.
She took a step back from him and idly ran her finger along the top edge of her corset. “If I allow you to unlace my corset, do you promise to do only that and nothing more?”
He nodded once.
She arched a brow at him. “Your word, Mr. Banks.”
“Yes,” he rasped.
Slowly, she turned around to give him access to the tapes that held her corset in place. Her pulse picked up speed with each knot he loosened until her corset was just hanging loosely on her body and her heart was pounding so fast in her chest she thought it might burst out. Laura turned back to face Henry and his deep blue, desire-filled eyes.
With a deep exhalation, she eased her corset down past her hips, then let it fall to the floor, leaving her now clad in only her chemise and stockings. Placing her left hand on his shoulder for balance, she lifted her right leg up to rest on his thigh, then peeled her stocking off with deliberate slowness. Then she wordlessly did the same with the other foot, leaving her to stand before him in nothing but a thin scrap of fabric. Before her nerves could get the better of her and her bravery fled, she reached for the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head in one swift motion.
Henry's intent eyes did a slow, thorough sweep of her naked body, lingering on her breasts and then again just below her waist. She was sure he'd had enough glimpses of her naked in the moonlight or when the sheets had slipped for him to have formed a good idea of what her body looked like, but now there would be no doubt he could see it all.
His fisted hands and taut face made her heart soar. He desired her. Truly desired her. She moved closer, placed her hands on his shoulders and kneaded his muscles, praying he would be too lust fogged to see her slight tremors. She'd never voluntarily stood before anyone thus, allowing him to feast his eyes on her while she debated what to do next in her seduction.
“Straddle me.”
Laura's eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, too stunned to remind him she was the one in control.
He placed his large hands on either side of her hips, then moved his legs together and guided her to sit on his thighs. He ran his hands down both of her thighs, and her skin prickled with awareness.
She pushed her palms against his shoulders and tried to scoot off. This was her seduction. She needed to be the one in control.
His grip tightened, staying her. “Don't go.” His hoarse voice made her nearly crumble. He caressed her thighs and started to move his legs apart, taking hers with them.
Instinctively, she gripped his shoulders tighter. What if she fell?
“I have you,” he murmured, widening his legs still farther.
“This isn't about me,” she breathed.
“Oh?” He stopped moving his legs and gave her hips a slight squeeze.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This was supposed to be my seduction.”
He chuckled. “And now it is.”
“No, I mean, I was supposed to seduce you.”
He skimmed his hands down her parted thigh. “And why is that?”
“You've always wanted—” Her words died on her tongue, replaced by a gasp, when one of his thumbs boldly brushed her intimate area.
“A young lady to share my bed,” he supplied for her.
“Yes, but—” He touched her again and she shuddered, ending all coherent thoughts. “In here,” she choked.
“I see,” he murmured, leaning forward and dragging his lips from her shoulder down to the crest of her left breast. He closed his warm lips around the point, then released it just as sparks of desire started igniting. �
�But this should never be just about one person and what brings them pleasure. It's a two person activity, so to my mind—” he repeated his earlier movement to the other side and Laura dug her fingertips into his shoulder; he pulled back— “both participants should get equal pleasure.”
“But Henry—”
He pressed his lips to hers, cutting off her words with his kiss. “No, 'but Henrys'.” His ragged command crumbled her resolve.
But she wasn't afforded long to revel in the moment of him being affected by her because his strong probing fingers were soon touching her again. Then they weren't just touching her but were inside of her.
She squeezed his shoulders tighter and something unnameable crossed his face.
Given no time to question it or think any deeper about it, all thought was driven from her mind when he started thrusting his fingers into her, spurring her to hold him even tighter so she wouldn't be unseated. What a shame it'd be to miss one moment of his touches.
His left hand, which had been holding her hip, moved up and cupped one of her now bouncing breasts. He gave it a gentle squeeze and shaped it, his eyes never leaving hers as he massaged the swollen plumpness and brushed his fingers over its hardened point.
His thrusts became more frenzied and his clamped jaw started to tick. He dropped his eyes to her breasts, then leaned forward and drew one into his mouth, setting off a reaction of hot fiery waves and a rush of blood sweeping over her stronger than ever before.
He withdrew his mouth and she fell forward against his chest, allowing his strong arms to encircle her and press her bare body against his, holding her there.
He kissed along the shell of her ear, waiting ever-so-patiently as she returned to earth. Just as she did, she realized she was no longer just gripping his shoulders but, at some point, had actually wrapped her arms around his neck in what she could only consider an embrace. How odd. She could not remember a time when she'd ever held anyone this way. But then again, she could not remember a time when she'd ever thought she might actually love another human being, either.
