“All right, I agree, it’s the simplest solution, short of sleeping on the floor.”
“Good, for the sooner we gain some sleep, the better we will face what may yet come to pass.”
And so they enacted the process of settling down for the night precisely as he had suggested, and shortly afterwards they heard a horse trot away from the inn, followed by the innkeeper’s wife, voice lowered and leading a guest, presumably Farnley, to the far end bedchamber. On hearing the sound of patter of shoes passing back toward the stairwell, Derby whispered, “Good night, and sweet dreams, wife.”
Stifling laughter she whispered back: “Good night; wicked earl.”
Six
~
Unsure how long she had slept, and having woken with a start after lying awake for far too long in restless agitation beside Derby, she glanced about the darkened room. Albeit a sliver of moonlight was casting through the drapes and denoted where the window was situated, little else could she see, and lying there listening to the stillness of night, a slight shuffling sound near to the door set her ill at ease. Worse someone rattled the door as though trying to open it. Fearing it was Farnley prowling around she hardly dared to breathe, but nonetheless pushing herself up in the bed the faint glow of candlelight shining beneath the door convinced her it was indeed he. Unsure whether to wake Derby, he must have stirred too, and not a sound uttered as he reached out, feeling for her, his hand alighting on her midriff. Aware she was sitting up in the bed he withdrew his hand and movement beside her implied he was hefting himself up in the bed, the light having caught his eye. They dared not whisper a word as a shadow passed by the door, and then another, but who was out there?
Thus they remained as the light faded and finally vanished, and then he leaned close and whispered: “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t think of any reason for her sister to be wandering around, whilst sure it had to be her and Pembrey, given there were two shadows: “Perhaps with Farnley so close Marigold was too frightened and couldn’t sleep. It might be why the door latch rattled.”
“To wake us?”
“It may have rattled beforehand, thus the cause of our waking in the first place.”
“Oh hell, I do believe Pembrey has hatched a secondary plan to lure Farnley away from the inn.”
“That’s a good plan, isn’t it? And I dare say Marigold has locked herself in the bedchamber.”
“It might work,” said Derby, sounding most enthusiastic. “I’ll wager Farnley is sleeping fully clothed in expectation of us trying to make a run for it at first light.”
“Pembrey is so brave.”
“Indeed, now get some rest, for Durston will be here with the landau at nine.”
His calm acceptance of events seemingly unfolding was a tad too approving of Pembrey’s gallantry. “You knew,” accused she; whilst picking up the bolster, “you knew he was going to leave and take Marigold with him, because he has, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, yes,” replied he in a jovial whisper, whilst fending off her assault with the bolster. “We cobbled the plan whilst you were fetching your belongings.”
“You could have told me,” said she, as they wrestled with the bolster, which he finally snatched free from her grasp, and as he did so, she fell forward against his torso and the bolster went over the edge of the bed and tumbled to the floor.
“Now we are undone,” said he, his good arm embracing her, “and you’ll have to marry me, else what will your mother say?”
“I shan’t tell her I slept with a naked man,” said she, aware of his body brushing against hers, aware of his ardour rising, for what else would swell and push her night rail between her legs and nudge against the sacred part of her, the untouched; the unexplored? “I know we shouldn’t, but I want you to kiss me.”
He obliged, and oh God, of all the things she had imagined and had kept her awake, it was happening and she didn’t want to resist the feelings his closeness stirred within her, didn’t want to resist him at all. Heady euphoria the like she had experienced in the arbour stole any resistance she might otherwise have mustered, and when his lips finally set hers free, he said: “You do realise I abducted you, and you are now my captive bride.”
“Not as yet, Derby,” said she, aware his injury to arm was no deterrent to his running fingers through her tresses, the sensuality of his touch all encompassing. “Aside from shooting Farnley, I don’t ever want to lie abed with him, and that could yet come to pass, for I don’t trust him or my father. They will gain access to me, one way or another, and may abduct me long before we can get wed.”
Nuzzling and kissing her neck, he said: “He’ll not have you, I promise.”
She wished she could believe that, and it would be true if only— “Will you make love to me, now, this minute.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want before entering into a marital bed?” said he, tracing kisses across her décolletage. “I can wait, painful as it is when as hard as I am at this very moment and unable to do a damn thing about it.”
“I can feel your need, and I trust you, Derby, trust you to see right by me.”
Despite the fine lawn of her nightdress preventing flesh against flesh, his sensual caress of a breast set her senses alight, her nipples burgeoning, his lips enfolding hers blissful. Even as he untied the ribbon lacing at the front of her nightgown and gently wrestled her pert womanly breasts free from restriction, there was no fear of what was to come, just longing, longing to feel him enter into her and make her his, and make sure Farnley would never want her.
Setting her lips free, he said: “I will do it, my love, in a little while.”
His exploring hand pleasing in itself, his tendering a nipple between forefinger and thumb was exciting, but not half as electrifying as his lips embracing it, his tongue grazing it, and thence suckling it and gently nibbling it. Never had she thought such bliss could befall her, and she didn’t care that his hand was gathering up the hem of her nightgown. Nor that his hand began gliding up her thigh, nor when it caressed the mooned flesh of her rump. Now bare to waist she was bared to his manly hardness, its rigid form pressing against her in a most delightful way. She wanted to squirm her hips and accentuate the pleasure, but unsure if it was proper to do so she was glad when Derby stole her breath with a kiss, his hand replacing his hardness, his fingers feeling, affording untold pleasure.
Myriad sensations befell her, and semi-breathless after a lingering kiss she sensed him tracking kisses from her lips to neck, to nipple, to belly, and thence to her womanly bush, and oh lordy be, his tongue lapped and probed incessantly in her sacred place, where no man had ever ventured. Sure she would faint from the shame of his lifting her legs over his shoulders, exquisite sensations rippled from within as wave after wave of heady euphoria gripped her. Try as she might to stave off wantonness, she craved the wondrous sensations, the sense of something coming whilst fearing it and fighting it. But after much fervent labouring with his tongue Derby finally won, and she tumbled into a breathless all consuming ecstasy, so wonderful she knew her time had come, the moment he would turn her from a virgin maid to a woman, his woman.
“Are you sure,” asked he, kissing her lower belly, sure you want me to do it now, or would you rather wait until we are wed?”
“You must, you must,” sounded so wanton, but she didn’t care, and the sound of a horse trotting away from the inn assured her Marigold was safe from Farnley.
“They’re away as planned,” said Derby, whilst stroking her and inserting a finger, “now relax and enjoy another moment of pleasure.”
His gentle manner in rising up, his body brushing hers, his hardness nuzzling against her, their lips touching as she kissed him with fervour thrilled her. There would be element of pain, for it was the truth of losing one’s virginity, as she and Marigold were well aware of.
A slight shift in his weight and balance and she could feel his fingers tendering to her and stirring those wondrous sensations all over again.
It was shocking how a man could make a woman feel so incredibly desirous to engage in mutual pleasures of the flesh. Make her so wanton she blossomed to his touch, his fingers slipping inside with ease and causing no pain, and those same fingers teasing, caressing a nub, the nub already tendered by his tongue.
Whilst thoughts and sensations mingled in a whirling vortex trembles once again befell her, uncontrollable trembles, and he came to her, his hardness nudging, pushing into her, and it was done in a thrice before she ceased quivering beneath him. Pain shrouded by ecstasy she barely felt more than a pin prick sensation the moment of his entry, now when he slid deep, so deep his pubic mound pressed gently against hers, his whispered words were that of a caring man: “Am I hurting you?”
“No, not for the present, and I barely noticed when it happened,” said she, savouring the breadth and length of his hardness sheathed within, and secretly glad he couldn’t see her tears, albeit they were tears of relief and joy.
“Good, I prayed it wouldn’t be too awful for you. Do you want me to withdraw now that we’ve done what had to be done?”
“Not yet, for I love the feel of you, love the throbbing of your hardness inside of me.”
“Cock, my love, a damnably hard and hungry cock inside of you.” Salacious in taking a nipple between his lips, he withdrew his hardness a little and again sank into the depths of her, not once but several times whilst suckling and caressing the softness of her breast. “Hell, this is too good, too damn good. You’re so tight, so damnably tight and yet deliciously succulent.”
Was this how it would always be when he touched her, when he was inside of her?
Soft moaning sounds turned to groans, his loins hauling up and down again, his manly muscle all the while caressing her insides, the sensation glorious, unceasing and pleasure giving. More so when his momentum increased, pummelling her pubic mound, hammering her nub, his breathing heavy followed by an agonised groan and his hardness pulsing; kissing her core in blissful abandonment and collapse. His ardent ministrations beforehand had pleasured her, prepared her for the ultimate, but in the last moments of ecstasy befalling him, she too had experienced a third frisson of sexual hunger and paradise found. Thus they lay entwined as lovers, and she in love, so in love she didn’t care they were unmarried, because she trusted him, trusted him implicitly.”
Although he rolled off her and relaxed back against the pillow, he reached for her and drew her into his arms. “Rest now, for we have the journey to Bath on the morrow.”
Content within his arms, and safe in the knowledge Farnley wouldn’t want a sullied bride, she closed her eyes; loving the feel of Derby, and listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
~
Thunderous banging on the door next to theirs woke them with a start. It was clearly early morning, the tapestry drapes where moonlight had shone through the night previous, now rays of sunshine beamed across the chamber as a voice boomed “Open up in the name of the justices of the peace.” It wasn’t Farnley’s voice, she knew that much, nor was it her father’s. Not in the least abashed in his nakedness Derby lunged from the bed, donned his breeches, and produced a pistol from God knew where.
In haste he thrust her pillow shams under the bed and used his foot to push them out of sight, and indicated she do likewise. Thus she slipped over the far side of the bed and dragging her clothes with her, she joined with the pillow shams, whilst Derby pulled the bed’s coverlet to the edge and left it draped to the floor. And they waited, expecting the worst.
Heavy footfalls advanced in their direction and severe thumping on the door preceded, “Open up in the name of the justices of the peace.”
“One moment,” replied Derby, whilst hiding his pistol beneath his coat, “I’ll be but a moment.”
Satisfied no one could see her he stepped to the door and unlocked it.
“What in the deuce is going on?” demanded he.
“And you are, sir?” enquired the voice.
“The Earl of Epsom.”
“Sorry, your lordship, but I have to ask. Are you alone?”
Terrified she would be discovered she watched as the bottom of the door opened wider, allowing the person outside to see into the room. “As you can see, I am quite alone.”
“My apologies.”
“Not so fast, Constable,” said Farnley. “You haven’t searched the damn room, as yet.”
“I ain’t blind,” protested the man of the law. “There’s no young lady in this here bedchamber.”
“Nor has there been,” reiterated Derby, and judging by how he was standing she guessed he was holding the door in such a way as to prevent Farnley and the Constable from seeing his injured and bound arm.
“Damn the girl,” said her father, “she lit away with her sister in that bloody trap you heard and saw, and didn’t think to follow.”
“I was damnably sure there was only one girl in that trap,” said Farnley.
“Clearly not,” said her father.
“Right then, gentlemen, if you’re done harassing innocent travellers by waking them at dawn, perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I close this door and attempt to resume at least sense of rest, if not slumber.”
“By all means, your lordship, and begging your pardon for having disturbed you.”
With that Derby slammed the door to the jamb and locked it. Too afraid to move she stayed where she was until heavy footfalls descended the stairs and voices could be heard outside the inn. When she emerged it was to see Derby peering through the gap in the curtains, thus she joined with him, and he whispered, “They’re taking their leave, and a fair bit of confusion prevails in not knowing where to begin their search. It seems they are in great hopes that hound will track Marigold, for she dropped an item of clothing.”
“Do you think he will scent her trail?”
“Had she left on foot, then I would say, yes, for that clearly is a tracker hound. Had he set out in her wake merely moments behind her, then he may well have kept pace with my curricle, but with good fortune, her trail will have run cold by now.”
“Unless father thinks to go directly to Brook House.”
“Why would he,” said Derby, wrapping his good arm about her shoulder, when Farnley will have described my horse and curricle, not Pembrey’s horse and gig? Besides, I dare say Pembrey set out for Bath last night. It was a moonlit night, and Durston will arrive here with the landau at nine. So, all in all, mine and Pembrey’s hasty plan has worked, for I have no acquaintance with Farnley or your father. Besides, when I entered Frampton that night I had my lower face obscured, just in case any person I am acquainted with happened to be present.”
“Then I truly am safe from father’s wrath and Farnley’s desires.”
“Indeed, though the same cannot be said of me.”
“True, but Farnley’s desires amount to outrageous notions, in which he declared he would just as likely share me with a footman as wealthy acquaintances of his.”
“Be assured, my love, I’ll not be sharing you with another man, or woman for that matter.”
Stunned by his latter statement, she said: “How oft do men share wives and mistresses with other women, and if so, why?”
“It’s not an uncommon occurrence for men to derive immense sexual arousal from watching a woman making love to another, and thence to participate, in many cases, by fucking both the women at their leisure.”
“Fucking?”
“Ah, I forget, you are as many young ladies of your ilk, innocent in matters of brothels and scandalous practises that occur during house parties the like Farnley host. In crude terminology, I fucked you last night. In polite terminology I made love to you with my cock.”
“Well yes, and I now understand the word’s meaning, but a woman has no. . . no cock.”
“No my love, but women have fingers,” said he, leading her back toward the bed, “women have tongues, and there are devices available that resemble a man’s cock.”
“Oh, good heavens,” said she,
lunging herself at and onto the bed, “and they—”
“Indeed they do, and likewise there are men who enjoy participating in sexual pleasures with other men,” said he, clambering in beside her.
“I cannot begin to imagine how two men can derive pleasure from one another, will you please explain, for I had thought in seeing Farnley and father in the arbour, and all that they did, that I had witnessed debauchery in its entirety. Clearly I was wrong.”
“Are you sure you wish to know the details of two men making love?”
“But of course, else how am I to understand how other people conduct themselves in private and when in attendance at orgies? I have in the past overheard remarks I never fully understood, as when someone referred to a gentleman as the duke’s hobby horse, and the man was indeed a duke’s personal aide. Well of course, my mind whirled and I reached no conclusion whatsoever as to what a hobby horse is in the context of its meaning, other than as a toy small children are oft given until old enough to mount a horse proper.”
The Earl's Captive Bride Page 6
