Bedding Lord Ned

by Sally MacKenzie

  She’d barely got the words out before he’d torn aside the coverlet and lifted her onto his bed. “Then let us proceed with the ceremony.”

  Ned knelt next to Ellie and stared down at her. She’d stretched herself out on her back, arms wide, waves of brown hair flowing over his pillow, completely naked except for the single strand of milky white pearls around her neck. Her flawless skin almost glowed against his dull sheets. His heart—and another organ—clenched with love and desire.

  She was perfect. She was all that he could ever wish for—his past, his present, and his future.

  But what if they made a child tonight? What if in nine month’s time—

  His cock drooped in despair. How could he risk losing her?

  He couldn’t.

  “Are you worrying, Ned?” She gently touched his softened member. “You look ... sad.”

  He felt the feather-light touch as though it were a spark. He saw Ellie’s eyes widen as his cock stirred, if only feebly. He laughed, but he felt more like crying.

  “Perhaps I am worrying a little.” He cleared his throat. Why be evasive? Ellie knew him too well. “Or a lot.”

  “Don’t.” She rested her hand on his thigh. Just having her fingers nearby gave his poor organ hope. “I want children, Ned. I want them so much I was willing to consider marrying a man just to be a mother.” She smiled, shaking his thigh slightly, enough to make his hopeful cock move. “But I would much, much rather have your children.”

  Now her fingers were stroking his thigh, coming very, very close to—

  He jerked his attention back to the matter at hand—no, poor choice of words. He forced himself to remember the greater concern, to think with his big, not his little, head. “But what if you—” He couldn’t say it. “What if something bad happens?”

  Ellie sat up. His eyes dropped to watch her lovely, small breasts sway with the motion. He might be concerned for her safety, but he was male, damn it.

  “Ned.” She touched his jaw, and he raised his gaze to meet hers. “I can’t promise you that nothing bad will happen. Life’s not like that. But I’m willing to take the risk. I want to so I can hold my child—our child—in my arms.”

  His cock leapt at that thought, eager to be about the business of giving her what she wanted.

  He frowned, ignoring as best he could his thoughtless organ. “I want that, too, Ellie, but I want you more. I love you too much. If I were to lose you, if I’m ever forced to watch you die as I watched Cicely, unable to do a thing to save you—” His throat closed up, and his unruly member deflated to lie cowed and limp between his thighs. Nothing could resurrect the poor thing now.

  He was wrong.

  Ellie’s face hardened with determination. “I love you, too, Ned. I would do anything for you, but I won’t let you hide from life.”

  “You don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

  “Maybe I can’t. But I do understand I spent far too long hoping and wanting and not doing anything to make what I wanted happen.” She brushed her lips over his. “I’m not going to make that mistake again. You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve thoroughly ravished you.”

  That made him laugh. “Don’t be—Ellie!”

  She’d bent her head to kiss his poor organ. He should shove her away. He put his hands on her head to do so, but somehow his fingers got trapped in the silky depths of her hair and ended up holding her where she was instead.

  “Does that hurt?” Her whispered words caressed his growing flesh.

  “No, but you shouldn’t—ohh.”

  Her tongue flicked out over him.

  He couldn’t help it—he spread his thighs to give her more room. He tried to remember why she shouldn’t do this, but the sensation of her wet tongue stroking him scrambled all coherent thought.

  “I’m sure this isn’t—” He bit back a moan. “What you’re doing isn’t p-proper.”

  She paused and he almost cried. “Don’t you like it?” She brushed a kiss over his aching flesh. “This part of you certainly seems to. It’s grown large and hard again.”

  “Ahh ...”

  “I think this will be easier if you lie down.” She moved around on the bed so she could push him back onto the pillows.

  He was stronger than she; he could easily resist ... but he obligingly did as she wanted. His little head was in complete control now, standing up eagerly, waiting to see what Ellie would do next.

  What she did was straddle his legs, her long hair teasing his skin, breasts dangling over his thighs. And then her mouth went around—

  “Ahh.” His hips jerked up. “Ohh.”

  He was done with thinking and worrying. Four years of grief and fear and guilt and deprivation flooded him, mixing with overwhelming love.

  “Ellie!”

  She looked up. “What is it this time?”

  “I-I can’t wait any longer.” It was hard to get the words out.

  “Wait?” She looked puzzled. “Wait for what?”

  “This.” He pulled her up as gently as he could and pushed her onto her back. Then he came above her, trying to maintain some control over his relentless need. “I’m afraid this is going to be quicker than it should be.”

  Ellie grinned at him. “It can’t be quick enough for me. I’ve waited all my life for you; I don’t want to wait a minute more.”

  He frowned. “I may not be able to be gentle.”

  “I don’t want gentle.” She tugged on his head. “Just do it, will you?”

  She did sound rather anxious.

  He kissed her breast and then licked her nipple. She moaned, and her legs spread wide. That was encouraging. He latched on and sucked, and her head tossed on the pillow, her hands grabbing his hair and holding him to her breast.

  He slid his fingers down over her belly to the juncture of her thighs ... Thank God—if God didn’t mind being thanked in such a situation, though Ned did mean it in a most reverential way—she was wet and ready for him. Her hips arched up at his touch, and she rubbed against him. Perhaps she was right—he couldn’t be quick enough.

  He left her breast and kissed his way down her body, urged along by her lovely whimpers of desire. Her hot, musky scent surrounded him; he slid a cautious tongue into her cleft ...

  “Oh, Ned, oh, oh, please, now, I can’t ... wait ...” Her hips twisted frantically.

  It clearly would be cruel to deny her what she wanted so desperately. And what he wanted, too.

  He rose up over her again and slid into her tight, warm body. He tried to be careful. He knew he had to be gentle—he didn’t want to frighten or disgust her as he had Cicely. He wanted to show her how much he loved her, but he felt a tidal wave of need battering his control.

  He flexed his hips and broke through her maidenhead—and heard her gasp in pain. Damn.

  He paused, deflating slightly. “I’m sorry.”

  She grunted. “Are you done?”

  He should be, but the smell and feel of her was too much. He was swelling again. And she did say she wanted children. “Not quite.”

  He moved as slowly as he could. In and out. In and out.

  “Oh.” She stiffened a little. “Oh.”

  Was he hurting her? He stopped though his body screamed go.

  Fortunately, Ellie agreed with his body.

  “Don’t. Stop.” She wiggled under him, grabbing his hips. “Go. Faster. Harder.”

  He flexed his hips again. He tried to pay close attention to her reactions, but he was drowning in his own response. He should ... ah.

  She whimpered and dug her fingers into his arse. “Yes. Oh.” Her body grew tighter; she made a desperate little sound—and then her legs jerked. She shuddered, and he felt her pulse around him.

  It was too much. He pulled back and thrust deep one last time, spilling his life and his love into Ellie.

  He was home.

  Ellie wrapped her arms tightly around Ned. She could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. She wanted to stay this way fo
rever, Ned deep inside her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She felt gloriously married, even if law and church might not yet consider her so.

  He turned his head to kiss her cheek. “I’m too heavy for you.” He sounded as relaxed and dazed as she felt.

  “Mmm.” He was, but she didn’t want to say so.

  He lifted himself off her, and she felt chilled and empty until he gathered her up against his side. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and draped her arm across his chest while he grabbed the coverlet with his free hand and pulled it over them.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Did I hurt you?”

  She heard a thread of worry in his voice. “No.” She should be honest. “Well, maybe a very little at the beginning, but it was worth it.” She tightened her hold on him and kissed his chest. “It was wonderful ... better than I could ever have imagined. I want to do it all again.”

  He chuckled. “Not now. You are likely rather sore.”

  She moved her legs. “Perhaps a little.” But it was a good soreness.

  Had they made a child? She wouldn’t mention it; Ned would start worrying. She slipped a hand over her belly. She hoped they had, but she’d be happy—very happy—to keep trying.

  Ned’s fingers combed through her hair. “Next time I promise we’ll go slower. I’m afraid I was a bit out of control.”

  She grinned at him. “You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?”

  “No.” He gave her a slow kiss. “You were a bit out of control yourself. I liked that.”

  She kissed him back. “I didn’t offend your notions of propriety?”

  “Not too much.” He frowned. “But speaking of propriety, which is a bit ludicrous considering I’m lying naked in bed next to a gently-bred virgin—”

  “I’m not a virgin any longer!”

  He gave her a quelling look. “—the daughter of the vicar who is not—yet!—my wife, we should get dressed and go downstairs. I expect everyone will have noticed our absence.”

  “But no one will remark on it. I’m just Ellie, your old friend, remember?” She slipped her hand down his chest and belly, but he caught her before she could reach her goal.

  “You are not going to tempt me to more misbehavior.”

  “Are you sure? I’d much rather stay here with you than go downstairs.”

  “As would I, but we are going downstairs.” He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “We will get dressed and—oh, damn.”

  “What is it?” Ellie sat up, too, and pressed herself against Ned’s back, slipping her fingers around to—

  He grabbed her hands. “Will you behave yourself?”

  “Must I?”

  “Yes. We need to get moving. I should at least offer your father the courtesy of a private meeting to ask for your hand in marriage before announcing our betrothal.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “If we hurry, maybe I can have a word with him before dinner.”

  “Or after dinner.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, getting out of bed. “I’m quite sure once everyone sees us, it will be very apparent we need to marry immediately.”

  “I don’t know why.” Ellie admired Ned’s muscled arse as he strode over to his clothes press.

  “Because I am not a lady’s maid, and I don’t believe we want to call Mary in to get you dressed again.” He pulled on a new pair of drawers, scooped her chemise off the floor, and walked back to her. “And stop staring at me as if I’m some special ice you want to lick all—” He closed his eyes as if he were in pain, and she saw the lovely bulge appear in his drawers again. She reached for it—and he dodged her hand.

  “Ellie, I love you, I want you, you are the dream I hadn’t the courage to dream, but we have to go downstairs now.”

  “Oh, very well.” She climbed down from the bed, took her chemise, and slipped it over her head. “But will you promise me I can come back here to sleep tonight?”

  “No.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He pulled on his shirt and breeches and then helped her lace up her stays.

  She turned to face him as soon as he was done, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “I love you, Ned.”

  He hugged her back. “And I love you, Ellie. Thank you for having the courage to make me see it.” He stepped back. “And now we really, really have to go downstairs.”

  Chapter 21

  Love conquers all.

  —Venus’s Love Notes

  “Do you have any idea where Ellie is, your grace?” Constance Bowman asked Venus. Ellie’s mother looked around the drawing room again. “I stopped by her chamber when we arrived, but no one was there—except for Sir Reginald playing with a scrap of red silk. I do hope that wasn’t Ellie’s Norwich shawl.”

  Venus smiled. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

  “You are probably right. It didn’t look large enough, and I would think Ellie would be wearing her shawl—wherever she is.” She glanced at the door and then surveyed the room once more. “It must be almost time for dinner.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be down shortly.” Venus raised her brows significantly. “I notice Ned is missing as well.”

  Constance’s eyes brightened. “You don’t think they’re together?”

  “One can hope.” And pray, but Venus had discovered over the years that the Almighty didn’t respond to prayers as promptly or as literally as she’d like. In her opinion, it was much more efficient to consult a matchmaker for matters of the heart—not that anyone would say she’d been at all efficient in settling her sons’ matrimonial issues.

  Constance sighed and shook her head. “If they are, they are probably sitting sedately in the library discussing the weather. Oh, Venus, I don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl. I’d really hoped this year she’d put aside her infatuation with Ned and find a husband, but it looks to me as if all the men you invited for her have chosen other women—just like every other year.”

  Venus patted Constance’s arm. “Don’t worry. I have a very strong suspicion that my son and your daughter are not merely discussing the weather.”

  Hope bloomed on Constance’s face again, though it was clear she was struggling to keep it in check. “Why would you think that?”

  “Mother’s intuition. I’ve been watching them during this party.” She bent her head closer to Constance’s. “And I had Mary make up a red silk dress much like the one you described to me.”

  Constance’s jaw dropped. “You actually got Ellie to wear something flattering? I’ve been trying to do that for years, as well you know.”

  Venus chuckled. “She didn’t have any choice. I, er, persuaded Reggie to ruin that rag she’d brought.”

  “Well, thank Reggie for me. I tried to dissuade her from choosing that fabric, but she was adamant. And between you and me, poor Mrs. Wilkins, our dressmaker, has come to me in tears more than once after fitting Ellie. Frankly, I think Ellie’s been determined to make herself look a fright ever since Ned married Cicely.” Constance sighed. “I thought I was doing the right thing when I refused to let her attend their betrothal ball in that shocking red dress, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “And, as I’ve told you many times, there’s no point in worrying about it—it’s water over the dam. Ned was dreadfully in love with Cicely. I’d wager Ellie could have shown up naked, and he wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “Venus! Ellie would never do anything so shocking!”

  “No, I know that, but I’m happy to report she was showing a bit more of her old, strong-willed self during this party. I was quite encouraged.”

  Constance looked doubtful. “I can’t imagine Ned wishes to wed a termagant.”

  “I wouldn’t say Ellie was as bad as that, but I do believe Ned needs someone to upend his carefully ordered life and make him feel daring and willing to risk something again.” Venus shrugged. “And if I’m wrong and Ellie and Ned don’t make a match of it, you know I stand ready to take her up to London for the Season. Don’t wo
rry—I’ll find her a good husband.” Though Venus really, really hoped that would not be necessary.

  “But she’s twenty-six.” Constance was actually wringing her hands. “She could hardly be more firmly on the shelf.”

  “Nonsense. She’ll do fine, if it comes to that. Contrary to what you hear in the country, London is not populated only by coxcombs and dandies. There are a few sensible, discerning men still available.” She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion. Where the hell were Ned and Ellie? “But let us hope my son proves to be sensible and discerning himself.”

  “Looking for our second son?” Drew asked, coming up to them. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowman.”

  “Good evening, your grace. It’s lovely to be here as always.”

  “And it will be even lovelier tomorrow when our London guests have departed, and we can be at peace again,” Drew said, smiling at Constance. “Though I believe we have some more excitement to endure first.” Now he was grinning.

  Venus grabbed Drew’s arm. “You know something—what?”

  Drew’s brows rose as he put on his haughtiest expression—except his eyes were laughing. “My dear duchess, you are wrinkling my coat.”

  She shook his arm. “I’ll do more than wrinkle your blo”—Drew’s glance shifted to Constance, and Venus, recalled to her surroundings, adjusted—“blasted coat if you don’t empty the bag immediately.”

  “Such vehemence.”

  “Drew, my patience is worn to a thread.”

  “Yes, your grace, please tell us what you know.” Constance sounded as if she were on the verge of falling to her knees in supplication.

  Drew bowed. “I apologize for teasing you both. I’ve only come to report that Dalton just approached your husband while I was speaking to him, Mrs. Bowman, and very discreetly asked the vicar to step into the library. Apparently Lord Edward wished to have a word with him.”

  Constance almost clapped her hands, but stopped herself right before they made contact. “Oh, that does sound very promising.”