She no longer doubted him.
The door opened on a knock, admitting Marcus. He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I thought I might find a shoe thrown at the door if I tried to come in. Are you…?”
“Not until tonight. Did you find someone to marry us?” He didn’t release her hand, although he didn’t bring her any closer to him.
“Yes, a cleric not far from here, but we have to wait until tomorrow. He wants to draw up the documents properly, he said. I’m sorry, but that was the best I could do. Unless I put him under thrall and I’m guessing that you want the records and his recollection to be crystal clear. And I found someone to provide clothes.” Not reluctant to show his feelings, he grimaced. “If I’m to spend the night in the same room as you, as I presume I am, then I would be more comfortable if you bathed. I took the liberty of ordering one from the landlady.”
“I was about to do the same. There aren’t three rooms available?”
“No. The house is full. I’ve ordered a meal served privately tonight. But only after you’ve bathed.”
“Thank you.” He meant it, although she sensed reluctance in him. Perhaps he was hungry for real food. He’d eaten what they’d brought with them, and that with an avidity that shamed her. If only they’d reached him sooner! Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the back, as elegantly as any courtier. “I’ll see you at dinner, my lady.”
“No, he won’t. We’re eating in separate rooms, and from now until the wedding you’ll have a maid with you. Not a perfect chaperone, but nobody can say that we were remiss in any way. The landlady is a gossip. The news that you’re here will be all around the town by tomorrow, and I’m including Edinburgh in that.”
“But nobody will contact my mother.”
“We’ll be next door. We’ll keep your room locked and you’re marrying as early as possible tomorrow. Then we’re getting on board, not coming back here. So don’t unpack.”
That forced a laugh from her, although nerves were already climbing all over her, sending prickles of concern through her whole body.
Marcus must have been a brilliant strategic planner. Apart from the maid snoring, everything came to pass the way he described it. Clothes were waiting for her, fresh, not the best, but certainly better than the travel clothes she’d been using. She found a closed gown in deep pink and a stomacher of ecru satin. The maid dressed her hair and made a reasonable job of it, so that she looked almost herself again. Over the last week she’d made a deliberate effort not to look too much like Lady Aurelia Welles, but now she owned her name again. The relative solitude of the night before gave her a chance to settle her mind and think.
Whenever she was in Blaize’s presence, her thinking processes scattered. She looked at him and she could think of nothing else. The time apart gave her time to consider what life would be like with him. She made a few decisions that night, while she lay in a surprisingly comfortable bed that could have been made of rocks for all the sleep she had. But she’d driven the landlady to distraction by ordering a bath for herself. After all, this was the night before her wedding. Whatever else it might be. And she was unlikely to repeat it.
At home, she’d dress in something fine, but not too elaborate, and go to the family chapel first thing in the morning, where she’d meet her groom. They’d marry in a small, private ceremony, then have a wedding breakfast, which could become loud and raucous. At least nobody insisted on the old bedding ceremony, to witness the losing of her virginity.
Barbaric. She shuddered at the thought.
“Everything all right, my lady?”
She nodded and then smiled. “It’s very good, Youmans. Thank you.” She hadn’t mentioned it was her wedding day. Why should she? But Youmans might pick up her state of nervousness. Even with her rigid training she found it difficult to hide it.
Tonight would be her wedding night. But they’d be on board ship, so they’d be unlikely to have any privacy until they reached London. She could give him her decision then.
Leaving her room, she found Blaize outside. He was leaning against the balcony that ran outside and led to the stairs. The main part of the inn was a large room that was the height of the building in the old-fashioned style, when smoke from the fire was left to find its own way out through the roof.
“Good morning, my lovely one,” he said. “Are you quite ready to meet your fate?” But he said it with a smile, so fond her heart melted all over again. And predictably her mind went into its customary confusion.
When she shook her head in an effort to clear it, he straightened up. “Is that a no?”
“No, no, it’s not. I just feel—I feel stupid around you and it annoys me.”
He laughed, so easy they could be back in London and past all this. “Don’t worry, it’s happening to me too. God knows I shouldn’t be doing this, but ever since I saw you I knew you were mine. Let’s accept our fate.”
“It appears we have no choice.” Nor did she want any.
A pleasant-looking gentlemen in cleric’s garb met them at the door of a small church Aurelia had never visited before. Taking her hand gently in his, Blaize led her up the aisle to the altar, where the woman the cleric had employed to act as the second witness waited for them.
The marriage seemed perfectly regular. In England they’d have had to wait three weeks at least, while banns were called, unless they obtained a special licence. Here all they’d had to do was ask.
She made her responses and heard his—quiet, without inflection, but sincere.
And then they were married. They signed the register, Blaize received the certificate and that was it.
Marcus kissed her on both cheeks, but so far Blaize hadn’t done more than take her hand. He gave her a ring, a plain gold band that gleamed on her hand as if it grew there, so well did it fit.
Outside, a carriage waited. Marcus had really thought of everything. Except one thing.
“The marriage settlement,” she said.
Everyone of her condition in life had a marriage settlement. It protected the husband’s estate, insured it remained intact, but provided for the wife. It laid down things like her allowance and what would happen if she were widowed. From what Blaize had told her, that would be unlikely. And she didn’t like to think of it.
“We’ll sort all that out when we get to town,” he said. “You’re never going back to the house your mother is in, and I will care for you with everything I have. You can spend my entire fortune if you wish.”
Marcus spluttered a laugh. “You’ll find that difficult. Mine is extensive enough.”
Blaize raised a brow. “I have amassed a considerable amount, more by accident than design. I have survived with nothing, and I’ve lived in luxury. It means nothing if you’re unsatisfied or unhappy.”
“But you can feel sorry for yourself in comfort,” Marcus said dryly. “Come, we’re here.”
Aurelia had always enjoyed the docks. Once or twice they had taken ship, but her mother disliked being at sea. She said the motion made her queasy, but it had never concerned Aurelia.
The gentle rocking under her feet felt comfortable, and the way the wooden planks of the deck gave a little when she walked on them. Like the floorboards in an old house. But this ship wasn’t what she expected. “Where did you find this?”
Marcus gave a grin, the nearest to boyish that she had seen in him. “A friend berths his yacht at Newcastle. I asked him for a favour.”
Because he’d found them a yacht. The late Prince of Wales had enjoyed his yacht. A vessel of the utmost luxury, designed and made for someone of importance. That meant private rooms.
Downstairs—below decks, she should remember to call it, the steward showed them into a room she found surprisingly spacious, furnished as a bedroom.
Finally Blaize let go of her hand, but only to turn and face her. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “I had something at the inn while I was dressing.” She glanced away. “I can’t think of food now. I
thought we’d have to wait—I mean, I don’t want to appear forward—” Heat reached the tips of her ears.
“Sweetheart, if you want to wait, then we will. Does sea travel disturb you?”
“No.”
“You need your rest.” He took her hands and tugged her closer. “Eventually,” he said in an intimate tone that made her shudder.
Then his mouth was on hers. Instead of the softness of his beard, the smoothness of a freshly shaven chin grazed her skin, and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. He broke the kiss but didn’t move away, so his lips rested against hers and she could feel him moving against her, like a million tiny kisses. “I love you, Lady Stretton.”
Tears clogged her throat. “You never told me that.”
“I was saving it.” He would have deepened the kiss, but she drew back.
“I love you too, Lord Stretton.”
He smiled, the movement softly seductive. “I’m glad.” But she heard melancholy in his tones.
“What is it?”
He glanced down at her bodice and without haste he began to undress her, unfastening the hooks that held her gown together. “We’re here now. I should tell you that not all my friends will rejoice when they hear the news. Even less when they know that I love you.”
“D’Argento?” she guessed, since the Italian seemed to be Blaize’s closest friend.
“Yes. He is another old one. An Ancient.”
She caught her breath. Gently, he eased her away far enough to slide her sleeves down, helping her to remove the gown. “I’m surrounded by them.”
“It will get worse. We’re looking for the ones that were lost, and we’re learning things about ourselves. But I’ll keep you away from all that if you want. We’ll go and live somewhere quiet, as Julian—Jupiter—has done.”
“Blaize, what is it?”
There came that wry smile. “I’m prevaricating, aren’t I? I’ve not been this anxious for years. Not for a very long time. My love, we are here, and that’s all that matters at the moment. We’ll be at sea for at least two days. Let me love you.”
So seductive—she could do nothing else. Perhaps he’d tell her one day, but he was right. This was their wedding day. Perhaps if she kept saying it, she’d believe it. “Only if you let me love you in return.” She pushed his coat down and he let it fall.
No haste now; they undressed each other and themselves slowly, gently removing the garments and laying them on the same chair. Seeing her garments lying with his, Aurelia found the intimacy almost unbearable.
She felt no shame, no shyness, which was strange because she’d never allowed any other man to see her naked before. He’d seen her, tasted her even, but nothing felt as intimate as this, when he perused her with a possessive intensity that made her shudder, even though he was touching her.
Then he was touching her, but only to take her hand and lead her to the bed. He drew back the sheets and helped her in with every courtesy and she had the chance to examine him before he joined her.
She’d already noted his powerful upper body, but his lower was no less breathtaking. Strong thighs framed an erection she could only describe as magnificent. Even though she had nothing to compare it with, she knew it was impressive. After all, wouldn’t Bacchus have the phallus to compare to the ones his worshippers used to carry?
“What are you thinking?”
“That I’m going to make love with the lord of the phallus.”
He laughed, and it made his penis bob. It looked endearing, although she shouldn’t think so. She was so uncertain the lack of knowledge enraged her. But this man would hide nothing from her. What she asked, he’d tell her. Was that the man or the god? Did it matter? He was both. “You’re making love with me. Your husband, in case you’d forgotten. And I’m going to make love with the woman of my dreams.”
He climbed into bed then and left the sheets where they were. It was warm enough here. When he reached for her, she went gladly and joined her lips to his in a kiss that scorched her down to her bones. He touched her, smoothed his hands up her body from hips to breast and back again, in a sweep of possession. She gave to him with the greatest pleasure imaginable.
Opening his mouth over hers, he took her deeper. His taste, his skin—everything about him enthralled her. He had hair on his chest, lying in smooth whorls that emphasized his masculinity. Dark and soft, silky when she ventured to flatten her hands against it, her palms sensing every change in texture. When she skimmed his nipples, they peaked, and he groaned into her mouth. He kissed her again, cupped her cheek and scattered kisses over her cheek and down her throat. She thrilled to the knowledge that he wouldn’t stop this time.
And he loved her. He’d said so.
His lips on her skin felt like soft caresses, and his hands cupping her breasts slowly massaged them into a state of sensitivity she’d never known before. Her nipples peaked, as his had done, and he passed his thumbs over them, then rolled them between his fingers, bringing her higher. He kissed her navel, licked it and moved down, farther.
Although he’d tasted her before, it wasn’t like this. Not with her naked legs draped over his shoulders, opening her so wide she couldn’t have hidden anything if she’d wanted to. Not that she did want to. He licked with a lavish enjoyment, making “mmm” noises that made her squirm. Either that or the shivers snaking up her spine, spreading out to her fingertips, had done the trick.
She clutched the sheet. “Blaize!”
“Sweetheart, you taste so good,” he moaned. His breath heated her sensitive flesh and he moved a hand, touched the bud at the apex of her legs.
“Ah!” She’d have jolted away from him had it not been for his steadying hand on her stomach. Gently, he stopped her moving out of his reach and then set to work again.
He licked and lapped, and then took it into his mouth and sucked.
Then, despite his restraining hand, she did move. Moaning, she tried to get away from that teasing mouth and tongue and then she sighed, when shards of heat spread through her. Now she arched up into his mouth as he stroked, caressed, sucked harder. And he set his fingers to work, stroked down the centre and breached her, softly, barely, until she screamed his name.
Then she stopped, ashamed. People would hear.
“No,” he said, coming back up the bed to lie over her. “Cry and scream and call out. I want everyone to know I’m making you mine. I love you, Aurelia.” When he kissed her, she tasted herself on him.
“I want to do it to you.”
“Later. We’ll have time, my love.”
And he took his cock in his hand and entered her.
Of course it didn’t happen as easily as that. He told her to open her legs wide and lift her knees. Watching his dear face, she did as he instructed. He’d already entered her with one finger, so she’d assumed that had taken her virginity, but it appeared not. True, his member was large, but she was small, he said.
“Hold on to me, sweetness.”
She clung to his back and felt his muscles shift under her palms. He pushed, gently at first, and watched her closely. “This could hurt, but only the once.” Pausing, his cock resting against her opening, he eased himself up on one elbow and gazed at her face. “I can do this an easier way. Take your virginity with my fingers, gradually. It will cause you no pain. But I have a primitive desire to do it like this.”
“Yes,” she said. “Like this.”
So he thrust again, and she winced, but forced herself to relax.
“Breathe, Aurelia. Deeply, in, out, in, out—” One swift, hard flex of his hips and he was inside her.
Pain shot through her, but it receded quickly, leaving a sense of completion behind. He was there, her lover, her husband, where he was always meant to be. He smiled down at her. “Better?”
Unable to speak yet, she nodded, and he moved. Just a little, an experimental nudge, but— “Oh, that feels wonderful!”
“It does?” He eased into her, all the way inside.
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She clutched his marvellously powerful forearms. His muscles bulged as he moved. He pulled out, and she wondered if that was all, but then returned, and when he did he nudged something, a place inside her that responded with extra thrills of sensation. “Goodness!”
“No, Blaize,” he said. “Use my name, please, Aurelia. I want to hear it on your lips as I take you for the first time.”
If she imagined she couldn’t love him any more, those last words proved her wrong, and she did as he bade her and made free use of his name as he thrust in and out of her. Instinct drove her to hug his flanks with her thighs, increasing the concentration of his movements.
All the time he watched her, his grey eyes dark with passion, the sinews in his neck taut. Once he changed the angle of his entry, murmured, “Better?” and at her nod, continued to work her like that, harder, deeper, every stroke bringing her closer to the place that was just out of her grasp, but slid inexorably close every time his body met hers. Their bodies slapped together, and Aurelia wondered if such a sound should make her embarrassed. It didn’t—it only added to her pleasure.
“You will come, my darling, before I even think about it.”
Come? What did he mean?
Then she knew. Wailing his name and her love, she wound her limbs around him to steady herself as something inside her peaked and pushed her to that place that was no longer out of reach. Her passage clenched, gripping his cock tightly. He made a sound, half laugh, half strangled moan, before he too erupted, his shaft throbbing in hard pulses as he released his essence into her.
She watched him as he showed her everything, not attempting to hide the look of utter joy that spread over his face when he came. The only time he’d closed his eyes. He opened them again, gazing at her, his expression hiding nothing. Happiness, trust and love, no doubt reflected from her own features.
Still smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them to the side, where he nestled her against him. “Thank God we don’t have to share a cabin with Lyndhurst. I couldn’t have kept my hands off you much longer.”
Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 17
