Desires of a Baron

by Gordon, Rose

  Her fingers itched to touch it. Would it be as crisp and coarse as it looked? Or would it be soft and silky like the hair that covered his head?

  “Something wrong?”

  She jerked. Had he been watching her? “No. Should there be?”

  “Your eyes are open.” He reached down to the covers that were resting at his waist and pulled them up to cover the exposed skin of his abdomen and chest.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

  “Don’t be sorry.” He lifted his right hand up to cup her cheek and idly rubbed his fingertips along the edge of her jaw. “Did you enjoy it?”

  Was he talking about the view she had been enjoying until he covered himself or what they’d been doing before? She nearly laughed. He was a man. He’d meant their former activity. “Of course.”

  His fingers stilled. “Are you sure? You didn’t call out my name and jerk my hair like the other ladies do.”

  She went rigid. Other ladies? She’d never pinned him as one who frequented other ladies’ bedchambers. Perhaps she’d been wrong on that score. Somehow his hold didn’t feel quite as comforting as before and she moved to free herself.

  He let her go.

  Lucy pulled her arms out from under the covers and moved them on the top of the counterpane, trapping her safely under its shield.

  Seemingly oblivious to her rapidly fading joy, Giles rolled onto his side and ran the back of a single finger the length of her arm, starting at her wrist and ending at her shoulder. “Lucy?”

  “Hmm?”

  He lowered his hand to the bed. “Was it that unenjoyable?”

  It hadn’t been until he’d mentioned other ladies. Which was ridiculous for her to even be upset over. Gentlemen were expected to be experienced in such matters before marriage. She’d just thought he was different for some reason. “It was all right.”

  “All right?” he echoed quietly. “Can I have another chance?”

  A cutting retort was on the tip of her tongue. She repressed it. “How about tomorrow, instead?”

  He blanched. “Did I bungle it that badly?”

  “No. You did just fine until you mentioned your other lovers.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that, but since she had, she felt relieved. It was better to just say it than to hold onto it and let it fester, wasn’t it?

  If Giles’ slack jaw was any indication, he couldn’t believe she’d put voice to her feelings, either. “My other what?”

  Lucy closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. “Please forgive me for saying anything. Can we just go to sleep?”

  He pulled her right hand away from her face. When she didn’t immediately open her newly uncovered eye to look at him, he pretended to pry it open. “There aren’t... I haven’t...” He cleared his throat. “You’re it.”

  “But you just said that the other ladies call your name and pull at your hair while...” she waved a hand through the air— “you know.”

  “Not mine,” he burst out, his already wide eyes nearly bulging.

  Lucy furrowed her brow. “Then whose?” And how did he know of such?

  Giles rolled onto his back with a groan. “At White’s. The men... They speak of relations with the women they bed.”

  “They do?” she practically squealed.

  He nodded, then reached for her hand. “I won’t.”

  She squeezed his in return, her heart slamming in her chest at his declaration that he’d never talk to others about their private moments. “I know you won’t.” Without relinquishing his hand, she rolled onto her side to face him. “I’m sorry that I misunderstood.”

  “Don’t be,” he mumbled. “I’m the one who said it and ruined everything.”

  “You didn’t ruin everything,” she assured him, although it had certainly tainted the moment. There was no need to mention that, though. She moved closer to him and kissed his cheek. “I enjoyed it very much,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Are you sure?” He let go of her hand and rolled on his side to face her. “There are other things I can try... Things you might like better.”

  She had no idea what those could possibly be. “Giles, I said it was enjoyable and I meant that.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t—”

  She cut him off with a kiss.

  A kiss that he quickly took control of.

  Framing her face with his right hand, he held her mouth to his and parted his lips. He drew her bottom lip into his mouth and gently raked his teeth over it. He ran his tongue over the place he’d just nipped and she gasped his name.

  Without warning, he rolled her onto her back and settled on top of her before sliding his hands down to her swollen breasts.

  She loved having his hands touch her thus and pushed her breasts into his palms, her nipples tightening to hard points against his palms.

  Giles released her bottom lip and kissed down to her ear. “Trust me?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Always.”

  Dropping kisses along the edge of her jawline, he released her left breast and brought his hand between her legs.

  Surely he didn’t plan to touch her there. She tensed slightly at the thought.

  “Relax,” he murmured between openmouthed kisses.

  She tried. Unsuccessfully. “Can you just...”

  “No. Not yet.”

  She wanted to groan. She hadn’t minded his earlier invasion. In fact, that part had been surprisingly more enjoyable than she remembered. But having him aimlessly touch her there was sure to be uncomfortable.

  She forced herself to focus on his caress of her breast and push away the thought of what he was about to do. He was her husband after all, it was his right to do with her body whatever he wished without complaint from her.

  So focused on trying to enjoy his touch to her breast she didn’t realize he’d touched her most intimate area until one long, blunt-tipped finger hit something deep inside of her.

  She gasped at the intrusion.

  It hadn’t been uncomfortable, far from it, actually.

  He did it again. This time she was more prepared and noted the way a small shower of hot sparks flew through her midsection.

  He thrust again and again and each time the spray of sparks was hotter and traveled further. He paused a moment and added a second finger before resuming his movements.

  Lucy’s hands flew to his shoulders for purchase as her body bucked and her hips moved to match his quickening thrusts. Hot, thick tension coiled in her midsection, growing tighter with each movement.

  Giles murmured her name against the side of her breast and she gasped her response, moving her hands to the back of his head to hold him there as whatever this pressure was only intensified and pushed her higher and higher, closer to the edge of an unknown that seemed to linger just beyond her reach. A moment later, he stilled for a brief second and when he thrust in again it was with his erection.

  He gripped her shoulders tightly and rocked his hips, finding a steady rhythm that only intensified the dizzying sensation inside her as he pushed further inside of her than he had a moment before.

  Then suddenly with one swift, deep thrust a dam burst and she was pushed over that edge as her breath hitched on his name and hot euphoria rushed over her from head to toe.

  Gasping for breath and clutching Giles as if he were a lifeline tossed to a drowning woman in the Thames, she had just enough wherewithal to realize he, too, was in the throes of experiencing whatever pleasure had just overtaken her and took delight that it was her body that could bring him to completion.

  “I love you,” he panted between gasps for air.

  “I love you, too,” she choked.

  “You do?” he rasped, lowering himself to rest just above her with his elbows on either side of her.

  “Of course I do,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Wasn’t it obvious earlier when I got so upset at the thought of having to share you?”

  Giles pressed his forehead to hers. “You’ll never h
ave to share me, and if anyone tells you otherwise, you be sure to tell them that I’m taken.”

  “And so am I.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The week that followed their wedding had to be filled with the most fun and love Lucy had ever experienced.

  During the day the three of them would paint together or go on walks and talk, and at night (or whenever they could sneak away from Seth during daylight hours), their bed was alight with heated passion.

  “Are you sure you and Seth don’t mind spending all day here alone?” Giles asked, straightening his cravat for no less than the fifteenth time.

  Lucy rose up on her knees and holding the sheet against her naked skin, walked across the bed toward him on her knees. “Yes. Mrs. Plum mentioned yesterday that as the mistress of the house I need to come up with a menu for the week. I think it might be rather fun to do.” She pressed herself against him and looped her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know.”

  He swallowed audibly. “Yes, I do. If I’m to be an effective nobleman I need to resume my seat in parliament. No matter how painfully dull the meetings might be.”

  Lucy pulled back and smoothed down his coat. For as unprepared to be a baroness as she felt she was, she felt an overwhelming amount of pride for him pushing past his fears and taking up his seat in the House of Lords. It was his right to be there and he shouldn’t let anyone or anything keep him from it if he wanted to go. Even her and her past.

  She sat back on her heels and nervously chewed her lower lip. “Giles, can I tell you something before you go?”

  “Of course.”

  She’d known this moment was coming since she’d agreed to marry him. He had every right to know. She knew that and even planned to tell him. She didn’t realize it’d be so soon though and was only made more urgent when he’d announced that he intended to attend session today upon waking.

  “Do you not think I should go?”

  Lucy started. “No, not at all.” She licked her lips. “I think you should go—but only if you want to. I’m sure there are others who don’t always attend.”

  “I know, and I might become one of those, but I think I should give it a try. I owe it to my barony, don’t I?”

  “Yes, you do.” She offered him a slim smile. “But I need to tell you something.”

  “All right.”

  She blinked back hot tears. If this kept him from going, she’d be devastated. Still, he had a right to know from her, not from anyone else. “Giles, there’s a good chance that Seth’s father will be there today.”

  “I know,” he said simply.

  “You do?” she croaked.

  He nodded. “I already thought about it and if he says something to me about it, I’ll just inform him that he’s the most unfortunate man in existence because of his overwhelming stupidity.”

  Lucy would be touched at his words if she weren’t still in shock that he knew the identity of Seth’s father. She’d always been careful not to say his name or Paul’s last name. “How did you know that Lord Bonnington was Seth’s father?”

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I just knew he had a title.”

  Her skin turned to gooseflesh. Had he hired a Runner to investigate her? “How did you know?”

  “Seth.”

  “Seth told you that his father was a lord?” she breathed, dumbfounded.

  “Not exactly. He just speculated as much.”

  “Speculated?” She ignored the shrillness in her voice and clutched the sheet more tightly against herself. “The two of you spent time speculating on this together?”

  “No. Just him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  She leaned her head to the side. “It couldn’t have been nothing if he speculated on who his father was.”

  “He asked if I knew how babies were made—”

  “He did?” He was only eleven, surely he didn’t need to know the details about that yet. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.” He walked over to her and put his large hands on her shoulders. “It was when I still thought you’d marry Simon. I thought he should be the one to explain it to him, so I just let Seth tell me what he thought he knew and said I’d only confirm if he were right or wrong.”

  Lucy’s mind swam with all the information she’d just been told. “You could have told him,” she whispered. Heaven knows Seth would never come to her for the answer to that.

  “I didn’t know that at the time. I thought you’d want to be the one to tell him or would have Simon do it.”

  She could understand his position. “Well, if he asks you again, or about anything else, I’d appreciate it if you’d answer his questions.”

  Giles nodded. “I will.”

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “May I ask what he already knows?”

  “That there needs to be a man and a woman involved...”

  Lucy wanted to bury her face in her hands to stave off the embarrassment of what her son must know she and Giles had been doing together at night.

  “...Then he said he thought his father might be a lord.”

  Lucy snapped her head up. “And that’s all he knows? Or all he thinks he knows, rather?”

  Giles frowned. “Do you not intend to tell him?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want that vile man around Seth.”

  “I didn’t suggest we invite him over for dinner, but don’t you think that Seth has a right to know?”

  “No.”

  Giles moved toward the door. “Very well.”

  “Very well?” What did that mean? “Giles, you aren’t intending to tell him, are you?”

  “Right now? No. But if he asks me again—” he shrugged— “probably.”

  Lucy’s face heated with anger. “It’s not your place to tell him that.”

  “You just gave me leave to explain anything to him that he might have questions about. I won’t bring it up with him, but if he asks me, I won’t lie to him.”

  “You have no right,” she seethed as Giles walked to the threshold. “This isn’t your secret to tell.”

  Giles paused in the threshold of their room and without looking back at her, said. “Nor is it yours to keep.”

  ***

  Lucy wiped her sweaty hands on the front of her gown as she waited for Goosey, Lord Belgrave’s aging butler, to answer the door.

  “Lord Belgrave is not accepting callers,” he said with a slight snarl.

  Lucy’s face flushed at the words that hung between them. He must think she’s a doxy coming to use her charms on a married man. Well, she was not. She handed him one of Giles’ calling cards. “Even to Lady Norcourt?”

  The butler looked unmoved.

  Fortunately, Lady Belgrave was in need of Goosey’s services at that moment and was there to spare her any further embarrassment. “Lucy?”

  “Lady Belgrave.”

  “Isabelle,” she corrected. “Do come in. I was just finishing up the guest list for a dinner party we’re hosting next week when I heard Goosey being beastly.” She paused. “Having been on the other side of his condescending looks once myself, I try to spare as many visitors as possible the same fate until I can convince Sebastian to sack the man.” She led Lucy into the drawing room and offered her a smile. “I’m glad you came by.”

  “You are?”

  Isabelle nodded. “When you didn’t come back again after your first visit here, I was afraid I’d made you uncomfortable.”

  “No, not at all,” Lucy rushed to say. “Between the library and wedding, I just haven’t had a lot of time for social calls.”

  Isabelle’s laughter filled the room. “Mrs. Appleton has trained you well. Here, sit.”

  Lucy sat on the pale yellow settee Isabelle had indicated. Isabelle, was correct. Mrs. App
leton had trained her well with what to say to other ladies. Unfortunately, she’d neglected to mention what one should say to their husband when disagreeing.

  “Now, that I know our first encounter wasn’t so miserable that it has frightened you away from my home forever, may I ask what has brought you by?”

  Lucy’s hands grew damp again. “I’d actually hoped to speak to your husband,” she admitted.

  “Oh,” she said quietly. “He left about an hour ago to go to Session. You can wait here for him to return, if you’d like.”

  If it were possible for Lucy to be any more uncomfortable, it would have happened just then. “No, I should be going home.” Well, not immediately since Seth had agreed to wait for her at the library while she ran errands. She’d need to collect him first.

  Isabelle heaved an exaggerated sigh just as Lucy stood to go. “It’s my needlework, isn’t it?”

  Lucy froze. “Pardon?”

  Isabelle picked up an embroidery hoop that held a large piece of white fabric half covered with red and gold thread. “My addiction to embroidery. It always seems to drive people away, my husband notwithstanding. Sebastian has warned me every day since we reconciled that I should hide it when callers come by, but I can’t. Just the thought of having to put it out of view makes my skin crawl and my sore fingers itch.” She shrugged. “That must be why I can’t seem to make friends.”

  Lucy stared at her. Was the lady addled? Isabelle was beautiful and clever, besides. Surely, she had more friends than a person needed. She quickly scanned the room for more hoops, fabric and needles. “You hate embroidery, don’t you?”

  “How’d you guess?” Isabelle asked before carelessly tossing her hoop on the settee next to herself.

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because I have no friends,” Isabelle said, her lips twitching. She sighed. “I grew up with two playmates: my sister and the boy who is now my husband. When I came to London for a Season I was pursued only by a handful of gentlemen who were interested, but didn’t have any female companions—except the octogenarian who I was a paid companion to.” She plucked at her green muslin skirt. “I’ve never had friends before, Lucy. I don’t know how to make them and I fear that after our conversation that night you came for dinner that you’ll only be my friend because of our husbands and be cordial to me when we see each other in Society.”