by Darcy Burke
The warm softness of his lips grazed her mouth.
Caroline closed her eyes in utter bliss and slid her hands up the tight, smooth length of his muscled back. She pressed her body against his warmth and reveled in it.
His wet tongue slid into her mouth and touched her tongue. He pressed his lips harder to hers and moved his tongue more urgently against hers, demanding she make love to his mouth.
For a moment Caroline felt awkwardly inexperienced against the growing demand of that hot, glorious mouth.
His tongue withdrew from her mouth and methodically outlined her entire lips. Circling, tasting. Circling, tasting. He drew her upper lip slowly, playfully between his teeth. “I can’t believe I never wanted to use my mouth against yours,” he whispered.
His hands methodically unlaced her corset, tugging and tugging it loose in between their kisses. It was a blur. He eventually lifted his head. “I need to turn you around. The lacings need to come off.”
She swallowed and let him turn her. His fingers tugged, loosening the remaining laces on the corset until a breath escaped her and the corset fell away, leaving her only in a shift, her stockings and slippers. She officially felt naked.
He turned her back toward himself and lowering his gaze to her breasts which were visible through the sheer shift, he lifted her shift from around her thighs and pulled it up and over her head, letting it float aside.
She felt awkward but as his large hands smoothed over her breasts, she could think of nothing but how it felt to be his.
“You are so beautiful,” he hoarsely said. “I still can’t believe this is real.”
She wrapped her arms around him, giving into being his. He made her feel beautiful. Her hands dreamily left the expanse of his broad, smooth back and slid down between them.
“Open the flap on my trousers.” His voice was a velvet murmur against her forehead. “I can barely breathe, let alone do it.”
She blindly obeyed, unbuttoning the wool flap between them.
He pushed the material down past his muscled thighs. “Touch me.”
She hesitated and slowly grasped hold of the solid hard length of him with one hand. She slid her hand against the smooth head of his cock and stared up at him in disbelief, wanting and needing his reaction. She rubbed it.
His lips parted as he threw his blond head back and held her firmly against him. His chest heaved unevenly as his body tensed. He groaned and grabbed hold of her wrists to keep her from touching anymore.
Yanking her hands away from his body, he seized her naked waist, and dragged them both onto the bed behind them. Rolling onto the bed, he yanked her down onto the mattress. The cool linen pressed against the exposed, heated skin of her back and she felt herself drowning in bliss.
Ronan rolled off to the side and threw off his boots and everything else on his body, until he was naked. He rolled back toward her, his weight shifting on top of hers.
She was too entranced and overwhelmed by all that was happening. She wanted this. She wanted him.
His hands slid up the length of her stockings, past the tied garters that held them in place, and pushed her legs apart. Cool air pressed against the wetness of her folds as Ronan lowered his head.
His hot wet tongue met her core. She gasped and closed her eyes as that powerful sensation of pleasure rippled up through her body. His tongue pressed harder against her, lapping her moisture. His tongue increased its rhythm and she gasped yet again in complete disbelief that Ronan was between her legs and that she was already so shatteringly close to divine intervention.
She rolled her hips against that mouth, wanting and needing more and already felt herself edging closer and closer. She moaned in disbelief.
His lips suddenly disappeared, as did the warmth of his hands.
Her eyes popped open as her breaths came in short, desperate takes.
He kneeled on the bed. “I need to sheathe myself,” he said in between ragged breaths.
She paused. “Why?”
He let out a gruff laugh. “Because although I want babes and lots of them, I want to ensure they don’t arrive until after Paris. I want you to enjoy our trip.”
“Oh. Well…that is certainly lovely of you to think of.” She pushed herself up and steadied herself against the haze of gin that was now digging into her sensibilities. “Uh...where is it? Can I get it for you?”
“In my waistcoat.” He waved his hand in a direction that was anything but the right direction.
She lifted a brow. “You carried it with you all night?”
He leaned down and nipped her shoulder.
Caroline pushed at him with a laugh and crawled over to his waistcoat, which was on the bed, and yanked out a small leather pouch hidden within its left pocket. Her fingers clumsily undid the woven strings, working the leather pouch open. “I don’t know how it goes on,” she confessed. She yanked out the milk-soaked sheath, and crawled back over to where he was, stumbling against her gown.
His mouth quirked. “Do you want to try to get it on?”
Her cheeks grew hot. “I…well…I might as well learn how to do it.” This ought to be entertaining. She kneeled before him, teetering for a moment from the weight of her dress, and awkwardly said, “Uh...hold it...out.”
He smirked. “I thought it was out.”
She burst into laughter. “This is so awkward.”
He laughed and obliged her all the same by positioning his cock toward her with one hand. “Slip it on and then tie the ends. That is all.”
It was fairly obvious he had done this many a time before. And despite the fact that knowing it unnerved her, she was staking her claim to him now. He would never be doing this with another woman who wasn’t her again.
Caroline drew in an unsteady breath knowing there had to be a first time for everything. She slid his length slowly into the sheath. It fit snugly.
She tied the small pink ribbon which was attached to it, ensuring it remained in place, then sat back on her heels. It was like a present meant for her.
He yanked her back down to where he was on the bed.
She scrambled up beside him, let out a shaky breath and placed her hands against the sides of his face, her fingers grazing the stubble that was already forming. “I love you.”
He slid his arms around her, guiding her back to the bed with suave determination, his body hard, yet so warm and welcoming. “I know.” His shaven jaw tightened and his hand affectionately skimmed the side of her face down the curve of her throat.
She swallowed, caught up in the haze of him. This was hers. All hers. He was hers. To have. To hold. To love.
He slid down the length of her, causing her to melt, and skimmed his forefinger from the inside middle of her exposed thigh up to the very spot she wanted and needed him to touch. Her heated skin tingled in response as she further melted into the world of pleasure she wanted so desperately to escape to.
He slid his finger deep into her, keeping it perfectly tilted so that she could feel every movement of his finger. He moved it in and out of her, pushing her once again toward climax.
She fisted the linen around her, her mind momentarily blanking. It was amazing. He was amazing.
He leaned over her, placing both hands on each side of her head and rubbed his sheathed cock against her. His mouth found hers and he kissed her, his tongue pushing erotically and rhythmically against hers.
She moaned into his mouth as he lifted himself onto one arm and used his other hand to guide himself into her.
He pushed the sheathed rounded tip against her. She gasped as the pressure of his cock resting against her nub. His body tensed as he slowly slipped into her.
Caroline stiffened but was relieved when no pain seized her body. She dug her nails into the flesh of his taut skin, trying to feel and breathe her way through the moment of knowing that she was holding him and loving him and showing him how much he meant to her. How much he had always meant to her.
He stroked into her again. An
d again. And again.
She could barely breathe against the sensations scorching her body. She instinctively moved against every thrust as the core of pleasure built and grew.
“Caroline.” His voice simmered with fierce passion as he licked her entire mouth, leaving it cool and wet. He quickened his thrusts into her. “God. Caroline.”
A remarkable haze grasped her body and mind. Her name entwined upon his lips and the escalating pressure of his hard length moving against her threw Caroline into a spiraling paradise.
She savagely held onto his velvet naked waist and cried out as endless ripples roared throughout the entire length of her body, that both tightened and released her core.
He pounded his length into the wetness which her climax had created. After several more vigorous thrusts, he threw back his head and let out a guttural moan of pleasure that reverberated throughout her entire body and soul.
“Caroline.” He moaned again as if in utter disbelief and collapsed against her.
They clung to each other, their breaths still heavy.
He buried his head against the curve of her neck and whispered, “I have never known such aching peace.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t call this peace.”
A gruff laugh escaped him. He kissed her throat. “Can’t we get married sooner? Do we have to wait?”
A startled laugh escaped her. “Is that your way of saying you want to see me naked more often?”
“That is my way of saying I need to see you naked more often,” he drawled.
She nuzzled her chin against his bare shoulder. “As much as I would like to marry sooner, I want us to marry in June. The weather is always perfect in June. I was also hoping we could get married in Bath instead of London. So my grandfather could be there to see us wed.”
He sighed against her. “I foresee more parties.”
She giggled and smoothed her hands against his back, savoring this moment. “Say that you love me. I want to hear it.”
He lifted his head from her throat and glanced down at her, his blond hair scattered across his forehead. “Je t’aime. Toujours.”
She melted. “Everything sounds so much better in French.”
He searched her face. “Wait until you go to Paris. You’ll never want to come back.”
She stared up at him, already picturing them walking down the streets of a city she had yet to know. “Who says we have to come back?”
He paused. “What about your mother and sisters?”
“I say once you and I are settled in, we can move them all to Paris. French society would allow them to breathe more. Don’t you think?”
“And what about the estate in Devonshire?”
“Why not have both? Half the year in Paris and half in Devonshire.”
“Damn.” He nipped her shoulder. “Don’t spoil me now.”
“I would never.” She smiled, closed her eyes and meant to hold him in her arms for only ten minutes more, for she knew she had to go and sneak back home.
But instead…she fell asleep. It was the most glorious sleep she had ever known.
***
The slamming of a door from deep within the house startled Ronan awake. He blinked. Gray morning light peered in through the edges of the curtains that covered the window, and Caroline’s chestnuts curls spilled across his arms and chest. His froze, realizing it was morning and he never got her home. Damn it. He’d promised her mother he would get her home by four to keep Hawksford from panicking about the fact that they weren’t married yet. What time was it?
When another door banged open from somewhere down the corridor, now shaking the furniture in the room, Caroline sat up and adjusted the linen around her naked body. “We fell asleep.”
Ronan shot up, the blankets spilling down to his waist and exposing the expanse of his naked chest. He squinted toward the direction of the doorway. “If it’s Hawksford, I’m damn well moving us to France today.”
She scrambled to cover herself with the linen. “It better not be him.”
The sounds of approaching, hurried steps echoed down the corridor toward them.
Caroline grabbed hold of his arm, her eyes pinned to the closed door of the room. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No.” He scrambled out of bed and grabbing his trousers from off the floor, yanked them on.
Caroline clung to the linens.
The door flew open and slammed against the wall, shaking the entire bed.
Ronan pulled in his chin at seeing his uncle, whose gray hair stood in every direction and whose evening clothes from whatever event he had attended the night before hanging wrinkled. “Jesus.” Ronan strode toward him. “What are you—” He gestured frantically to Caroline. “She isn’t dressed, you know.”
His uncle glanced toward Caroline, winced and swung away. “I’m sorry.” His hands dug into his hair.
Something was wrong. The man never came into his house and into his living quarters like this. Ronan veered toward him and grabbed those shoulders. “What is it? Are you all right?”
His uncle’s features twisted. Grabbing Ronan’s own arms, as if to steady himself, he rasped, “I’ve been up all night. Thérèse suffered a bout of apoplexy during the ball I was hosting last night. The doctors assured me she is well and survived it, but her granddaughter won’t let me see her. I…I’ve never felt so undone, Ronan. I know I have no right asking to see her. I know she needs rest. Which is why I had to see you. I didn’t want to sit alone at the house with this. I couldn’t.”
Ronan’s grip tightened on those shoulders in disbelief. “Apoplexy? Madame de Maitenon survived that?” Few people did.
His uncle nodded but otherwise said nothing.
Christ. The poor woman. He owed her his very breath after everything she had done for him. “I will stay with you here at the house until there is more word as to her condition. We should send flowers. At the very least.”
His uncle nodded. “Lots of them. I will buy out every last basket at Covent Garden.”
Ronan blew out a breath, released him, and rounded the bed and grabbed his robe from off of it. He shrugged it on and swung toward Caroline.
Her eyes were soft and pained from where she still sat on the bed buried in the linens. “Lord Hughes,” she offered gently, “I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
His uncle shook his head. “No. The woman needs rest. And I need a drink.”
Ronan paused. “What time is it?”
“Six. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to wake you up so early. I just couldn’t sleep.” Hughes swung toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs.” He trudged out and disappeared.
Ronan raked back his hair and dropping his hands heavily to his sides, quickly gathered Caroline’s clothing and veered toward the bed. “Come here. We need to get you dressed.”
She frantically scrambled off the bed.
Pulling her shift on, he tugged and laced her into her corset, pulled on her petticoats and eventually hooked her gown back together. It was a good thing he knew how to dress a woman. “We need to get you back to the house.” He finished hooking the last of her dress.
She shook her head and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “No. I will stay here with you and your uncle. Until we receive word.”
Rounding her, he stared. “Whilst my uncle and I appreciate the sentiment, I’m already going to be answering to your brother and your mother. You aren’t staying.”
She stared back. “No. I’m staying.”
He huffed out a breath. “Caroline, I don’t want to argue with you.”
She lowered her chin. “Then don’t.”
Ronan sighed and knew she wasn’t going to be pleased with him and what he was about to do. “You are leaving,” he said in a low, authoritative voice. “I understand your concern for my uncle, but there is nothing for you to do. I promised your mother I’d have you back by four. And it’s six.”
She lowered her chin. “Send her a missive. Explain the sit
uation.”
“Caroline.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving. Your uncle is my family now, too, you know.”
God love her. “I made a promise to your mother and I’m keeping it. Because your mother is also my family now, too. So we are at an impasse, aren’t we?” He reached out and grabbed her hard by the waist. “Forgive me, but I’m carrying you out, gorgeous.”
She let out a startled half-laugh, half-shriek. “Ronan!”
He lifted her high into the air and effortlessly tossed her onto his shoulder. Her head flopped down over his shoulder, her cheek and long braid smacking his back. “Ronan!”
“I take my promises seriously. And so should you.” He walked over with her toward the bed and grabbed hold of the linens. He threw it on top of her. “Keep that over yourself.” He headed out the door.
With her one arm, she pushed at the mass of linens around her, but they kept falling back over her head. She kicked her legs against his grasp. “Where are you taking me?”
“My carriage will take you home. Where you belong.”
“But I’m not even properly dressed!”
“Hence the linen, Caroline. I doubt your mother will judge us. We’re getting married, remember?” He tightened his grip and pounded down the stairs.
She fisted the back of his robe with her one hand. “Can you at least slow down? I’m feeling a touch nauseous from all the gin we had last night.”
Reaching the landing of the foyer, he plopped her down. “There. Now head toward the servants’ quarters. I’ll be right there. I just have to let my uncle know and then I’ll take you home.” He gestured toward the back of the house. “Go on.”
She straightened and adjusted the linen about herself, eventually freeing an arm. Pressing her lips together, she shoved her arm through. She sighed. “I should have married your sooner,” she muttered. She sighed again, lowering her gaze. Dragging up all the linen, she turned and slowly, slowly and grudgingly made her way down the corridor, her head bowed.
His chest tightened. She really didn’t want to go.
