by Emma Wildes
How it was possible to blush after letting him do the things to her he had just done, she wasn’t sure, but her face heated. “I have no idea. I don’t listen to my mother if I can help it.”
“Good.” Andrew leaned over her, hips lips brushing hers lightly. “Then if she told you that sex was a chore and a duty a woman owes her husband, you probably didn’t believe her, am I right? What just happened to you is even better when I’m inside you.”
Looking into his eyes, Christa ran her hands lightly over his chest, feeling the hard muscles with tentative wonder. “I got the impression that enjoying what happens in bed between a man and a woman is considered unladylike.”
“When you are naked in my arms, I don’t want a lady,” he growled, lowering his lean body over hers, his knees wedging her legs apart.
The pressure of his hard cock at her opening felt strange, the prod of it widening resilient flesh drenched with the fluids of her recent orgasm as he began to penetrate. His arms braced on either side of her, Andrew watched her face with heavy-lidded eyes as he pressed forward, his quickened breathing the only indication of his self-control. Christa felt it when that inexorable invasion was checked by her virginal barrier, for he stopped a moment, his lashes lowering a fraction. “This will hurt, but only briefly and only this once.”
“I understand.” She swallowed and clutched his shoulders.
He was right, the stinging pain was over quickly, replaced by a sensation of being so full and invaded that Christa felt the nudging tip of his splendid erection at her womb. Almost immediately he began to withdraw, and she silently protested, her hands sliding to his back to hold him deep.
“I’m not leaving,” he whispered in a sexy timber that sent shivers up her spine as he sank back in, his huge shaft widening her throbbing passage. “I wouldn’t if the hounds of hell were on my heels… Jesus, sweetheart, you are so tight I’m on fire.”
He was hot, large, and she decided deliriously a few moments later, well-deserved his reputation as a talented lover. For if what other women had experienced in his arms was at all equivalent to the rapture she felt with each long stroke, then it was no wonder he was so notorious.
It was decadent. But also utter bliss.
That wondrous sensation built again, her attention completely on the motion between her legs until it shattered and fell around her, making her scream in release. Andrew groaned at the same time, burying his face in her tumbled hair, a fine sheen of sweat all over his body. He went taut as he flooded her warmly and fully with his seed and it seemed like the moment hung forever.
Three days ago they hadn’t even been politely introduced.
Well, there was certainly nothing polite about what they had just done.
Chapter Six
“He’s a beauty, isn’t he, sir?”
Running his hand along the leg of the colt, Andrew nodded. “He certainly is, Stevens. You can see Titan’s bloodlines in him plain as day. Let’s hope he is as fast as his sire.”
The stable lad grinned in agreement. “I won a months pay on Titan at Newmarket last year, sir. That black devil can run, even if he is hell to handle.”
“Let’s hope this one has his father’s speed and his dam’s disposition.” Giving the horse a final pat, Andrew straightened, glancing down the rows of stalls as he saw the young man’s eyes widen suddenly and a slight flush come to his thin cheeks.
Christa wore a pale pink gown trimmed with white satin, her shining hair gathered in a simple ribbon. The graceful sway of her skirts as she walked and her stunning feminine beauty were a decided contrast to the piles of hay, smell of manure, and the simplicity of the construction of plain stalls and mangers. His beautiful wife gazed at the colt with interest as she approached, and Andrew gazed at her.
They had been married for two weeks now and though when he’d first met her that fateful night in the wine cellar he’d thought she was breathtaking, that impression was even more potent, for now she had an aura of unmistakable sensuality. The change was intangible visibly, but it was certainly there and the impact was powerful. “Hello, my dear. I thought you were going for a walk in the gardens.”
“I did.” Christa gave him a dazzling smile. “But then I decided to come here and see why you find it so fascinating.”
He did spend a lot of time with his horses, it was true. The stables represented a sizable investment, but he also simply enjoyed working with the animals. His trainer and the lads, like one next to him who couldn’t stop staring at his beautiful wife, treated him with deference but familiarity, since he often worked by their side. Andrew said gallantly, “If I am neglecting you in any way, please accept my apologies.”
The slight flutter of Christa’s lashes matched her teasingly arch response. “This morning I did not feel neglected, but this afternoon…maybe just a little.”
They’d made love as the sun came up--more than once in fact--and fallen back to sleep in each other’s arms. Andrew lifted his brows and said softly, “I see.”
The stable lad mumbled something and led the colt away. Andrew barely noticed, his attention having shifted completely to the woman gazing up at him with open, unmistakable invitation. Once they were alone, Christa said tartly, “I am not sleepy, nor hungry, Andrew. I guess that means you should fuck me.”
Both amused and startled at the crude word he was surprised she even knew, Andrew said, “I certainly would never turn down such a charming invitation, but do you mind telling me exactly what prompted it?”
There was a slight hint of pink in her ivory cheeks as she said with obvious chagrin, “I was strolling in the gardens and there were two of the staff working there. I don’t suppose they knew I was anywhere nearby, for they were discussing us. According to them, all the two of us do is eat, sleep, and…well—”
“Fuck,” Andrew supplied with a laugh, pulling her into his arms, uncaring of who might see them. “Did they also mention being immensely envious of me?”
Looking adorably flushed, Christa wound her arms around his neck. “They seemed to agree that you were living up to your reputation and that there several parts of my anatomy they approved of. It was most embarrassing.”
“I concur with them wholeheartedly, since I approve of every part of your anatomy.” Grazing her chin with his fingertips, Andrew tilted her face up to his and captured her mouth in a long, hot kiss. When their lips parted, he whispered, “And since you aren’t hungry or sleepy, sweetheart, come on.”
Andrew strode out of the stables, holding her hand. It was a crisp, lovely afternoon with an arch of blue sky and only a hint of a breeze, and he headed away from the house and stables, to where a thick patch of woods skirted a small stream. There was a path, and he tugged Christa toward it.
“Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly, lifting her skirts with her free hand as she hurried to keep up with longer stride.
“It’s not far,” he answered evasively.
“To where?” Inquisitiveness was obviously one of those characteristics determined by the date of her birth, for he had already learned that his pretty young wife was curious by nature.
“Someplace beautiful. And private.”
“Oh.” There was a slight provocative note to that single word response that made his cock swell further, his erection already at half-mast just from their kiss.
The clearing was shrouded, but warm from the filtered sunlight that touched the grassy bank. The stream rushed down a small run of mossy rocks, the sound of the water like soothing music. Around them, the woods crowded thickly in concealing shelter.
Call it the romantic in his soul, but he occasionally came to sit here, enjoying the solitude, and had admittedly thought it would be a wonderful place to make love.
“Let me undress you,” he said, softly touching her face, his fingers gliding downward to the buttons on her gown.
“We’re outside,” Christa said in protest, but there was a telltale lilt of excitement in her voice and her lashes drifted down
a fraction.
“Imagine the cool grass on your bare back,” Andrew said persuasively, deftly and swiftly make short work of unfastening her clothing. Her gown first, sliding down over her breasts and slim hips. Then her chemise, the lacy garment discarded just as carelessly. She removed her stockings and shoes as he unlaced and pulled off his shirt, breeches and boots.
Spectacular at any time, he thought Christa was even more so with the sun dappling her flawless skin. Her glorious full breasts were already tight, the nipples peaked and hard, and the dainty triangle of fair hair gleamed between her legs. She pulled the ribbon from her hair and a tangle of loose golden silk framed her perfect beauty. Laying her down gently, Andrew lifted her legs so they were both bent at the knee, setting her feet down on the ground with her thighs wide apart.
Like most women, he’d already discovered she loved to be pleasured orally, and the change in her breathing when he lowered his head between her open legs was audible even with the singing of the bird and rushing water. He could smell the perfume of her arousal even before his tongue traced the delicate folds of her labia. Licking lightly, he delved into the satin tissue between, toying with the small bud that swelled slightly as he touched it, and then using his tongue to penetrate her enticing opening, thrusting it inside her.
Christa moaned freely, letting her thighs fall apart, her fingers raking through his hair. Her sex softened as he continued to savor and tease. Andrew could taste her growing orgasm and feel it in the quiver of her luscious body. Her climax burst quickly, wildly, and she twisted and arched as she cried his name. He kept her there as long as possible, until she begged him to stop and went lax.
Curbing his impatience to let her recover a little, Andrew shifted, holding her close. Relishing the primitive feel of the earth and grass as he stroked her silken hair and damp skin, he waited until her lashes lifted and Christa gave a weak laugh. Resembling a lush goddess, all tumbled pale hair and lissome curves, she said, “Perhaps being outdoors enhances the experience after all.”
His grin was full of wicked agreement. “I know I’m enjoying myself.”
Her gaze shifted, lower, to where his erection pulsed against his stomach. “You could enjoy yourself even more,” Christa said suggestively, “if you would put that here.”
When her fingers skimmed her wet cleft and she spread her legs, his breath felt as if it left his body. “I take it you’d like me to fuck you,” he said, not quite pulling off sounding blasé, his glittering gaze following the path of her slender fingers through her damp pubic hair.
“If you don’t mind.” Her coy response made him harden further, if that was even possible.
“Not at all, my lady,” Andrew agreed roughly, moving over her in one swift motion. Using his hand to guide his cock to her entrance, he penetrated her with one hard thrust, both their bodies sliding a little on the soft grass. Beneath him, Christa made a soft sexy sound, her passage stretching to accommodate his engorged size, those tantalizing inner muscles clenching the invasion.
For an innocent who had only been initiated a few weeks ago, his new wife certainly had learned quickly how to tease and tempt, he thought, as he closed his eyes in blissful melting sensation. Pushing deep, he withdrew to plunge inside her again.
It was exquisite sinful pleasure and he held off his own climax until she shattered and raked her nails across his back, the mingling of pain and sexual culmination both wonderful and startling. Ejaculation was a feverish explosion of sensation and he groaned involuntarily in response, shuddering and flexing as he came hard and forcefully.
Afterwards, lazily content with her body nestled in his arms, the sounds of nature punctuated by their ragged breathing, he wondered if he wasn’t following his brother’s advice—whether he wished it or not—and was falling in love. Certainly he had never felt so connected to any woman sexually, or otherwise. There was no question that he liked her in his bed, but he also liked her.
He had to share his life, he reminded himself quickly, the notion of love startling.
Just as she had to share hers. They’d been caught in a compromising position and forced into marriage. Maybe that was the difference.
Maybe.
****
The letter looked ordinary enough, but Christa looked at it with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
It was the third one she had received since they’d left London and she recognized the loops and swirls of the sender’s script, her name written neatly on the front. With what she hoped was composure, she said, “Thank you, Mrs. White.”
“Are you quite all right, my lady?”
“I’m fine.”
The housekeeper nodded and left the small parlor, giving her undoubtedly pale face a parting curious glance. As soon as she was gone, Christa opened the missive with slightly shaking fingers. Inside it was much like the others. This one however, made her knees wobble.
I carry your husband’s child.
No signature, but the others hadn’t been signed either. Sinking down into a chair, Christa fought a wave of nausea and tried to think. If this claim was true, Andrew certainly had a responsibility to this mysterious woman and the coming child. Perhaps he already knew about the baby and just didn’t care to tell her about it, though as his wife, Christa felt she had a right to know.
Or did she? After all, it wasn’t like he had wished to marry her and his personal life before their hasty, forced union was probably not something she could censure. It was well-known he was a rake of the first order, his sexual exploits were not exactly a secret. For all she knew, he had other illegitimate children, as it was not unheard of by any means.
That she should feel such a sense of betrayal was unreasonable, Christa told herself sharply, taking a deep, steadying breath.
But, God help her, she did.
Like some naïve foolish schoolgirl, she’d fallen for her new husband’s facile, devastating charm, and was ridiculously and completely in love with him. It had happened so quickly and easily that he would probably be amused if he knew how she felt, but nonetheless it was true.
“You’re white as a sheet.”
Starting at the sound of the deep voice, Christa glanced up guiltily, crumpling the piece of paper in her fingers. Andrew stood in the doorway, a frown of concern on his face. He said, “Mrs. White told me you looked unwell and I have to agree. Maybe I should carry you upstairs and send someone for the doctor from the village.”
Quickly, she shook her head. “No--no, please. I’m just a little upset.”
Not anyone’s fool, his gaze dropped to the wrinkled piece of paper in her hand, the envelope sitting on the small table next to her. “No one is ill, I hope.”
“Well, it has to do with a medical condition, but no, no one I know or care about is ill.”
Dressed for dinner, her husband looked incredibly handsome, his wide shoulders emphasized by a fitted jacket, his long legs in dark breeches, those vividly blue eyes slightly narrowed. “You are being cryptic, Christa. I won’t force you to tell me what is the matter, but you are my wife and I’m naturally worried.”
To her horror, she felt the bite of tears sting her lids and blinked, knowing if she started weeping in front of him she die of the humiliation of it. “Here,” she said abruptly, holding out the letter. “You can read it if you like.”
Crossing the room, he took the piece of paper from her hand, scanning it quickly and going very still. After a long heartbeat, he said coolly, “Who sent this?”
“I have no idea. That’s third one I’ve gotten.”
“The third?” His brows snapped together. “Why the devil didn’t you mention this before?”
Because, she wanted to say, I didn’t want ruin the idyllic magic of the past two weeks in your bed and your arms. Instead, she admitted softly, “The first two were different. One simply said ‘he won’t be faithful’, nothing more. The other was a carefully complied list of names, I am assuming of all the women you slept with before me.”
Andrew’s mouth tightened. “I see. Perhaps I’d better look at it and see if it is accurate.”
He was intensely angry, Christa sensed it, though his expression hadn’t changed since he first took the note from her hand. Not at all certain what to say, she sat there with her hands limply in her lap.
“This isn’t true.” Disdainfully tossing the note aside, Andrew moved restlessly to where decanters and glasses sat by a small pianoforte. There was a small fire lit against the evening chill, the clink of the glass as he poured her a sherry and himself a brandy coming over the low crackle of the flames.
Not wanting to anger him further but also desperately hoping he was right, Christa asked, “How do you know?”
Coming over to hand her the glass of wine, her husband gave her a cynical smile. “Contrary to popular gossip, my dear, I do not fornicate indiscriminately with every woman that catches my eye. Let’s just say there is no one that I have touched in the appropriate time period who is pregnant by me or any other man. Besides which, I am very careful to protect against that eventuality, so even if they were, I would be in great doubt I was the guilty party.”
He could only know this because he’d seen them recently, she guessed, which probably meant his latest mistresses were aristocratic ladies she knew, as well. That was disconcerting, but not as disturbing as the thought of someone else bearing his child.
She wanted to be the one to give him children.
“How can you protect against that?” Christa asked, her curiosity getting the better of her, relief at his conviction making her tension loosen a fraction.
“I’ll explain some other time, if you don’t mind,” he said wryly. Taking a sip of his brandy, he added quietly, “I hope you believe me.”
“Yes,” she said, squarely meeting his gaze, “I do. However, there is apparently someone out there who does not want me to trust you.”
