Liberty for Paul

by Rose Gordon

  “Isn’t that obvious?” he asked, reaching up and pulling a pin from her hair. “I wrote ‘I love you’. When you asked me to do it again, I didn’t dare.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing her face close to his.

  “I know,” he said before pressing his lips to hers. “Liberty,” he said raggedly, breaking their kiss. “I want to make you my wife.”

  “I already am,” she giggled, pressing her lips back to his.

  Pulling back, he said, “No. I want to make you my wife in truth.”

  “Oh,” she said, blushing. “Here? Now?”

  “Yes, here,” he said, standing her up.

  “But, we can’t,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Why not?” he demanded, pulling the rest of the pins from her hair and releasing it into a thick wavy mass.

  “It’s my sister’s house,” she squealed as he started undoing the buttons at the top of her gown.

  His hand stilled and he turned her to face him. “You’re jesting, right?” he said sarcastically. “She basically gave us her blessing.”

  “Well,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose we’ll have to get to it if we don’t want to be locked in here for the rest of our lives.”

  “Just so,” he agreed, bending to kiss her neck. “And, we have my family line to think of. I’d hate to see the title go to Lloyd.”

  She shuddered at the thought. “All right,” she sighed, feigning playful resignation. “In the sake of duty, take me to bed.”

  He flashed her a grin. “Gladly.”

  Chapter 31

  Paul drew back and whispered, “Liberty, as I said earlier, I’m not an expert in this area. You’ll have to tell me what you do and don’t like.”

  She flashed him a grin. “Well, sir, I don’t like all these clothes, I think I’d like it very much if they vanished,” she said, flicking her wrist.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute. “I’ll get right on it, ma’am” Then his lips took hers and he brought his fingers back up to the top of her gown to work the buttons.

  Liberty returned his kiss, matching his movements. She brought her hands up to his face and ran her fingers along his smooth cheeks, tracing the outline of his cheek bones and jaw. “So smooth,” she murmured against his mouth.

  He leaned back and grinned. “Did the mustache make you itch, too?” he asked, bringing his hands to the front of her gown.

  “No, not really. It kind of tickled, actually,” she said with a smile, running her finger over his bare upper lip.

  He grabbed the caps of her sleeves and reverently let his hands slide them over her shoulders. “You’ve beautiful shoulders,” he murmured before leaning closer and kissing the flesh he’d just bared. His hands lowered her gown all the way to the floor and she felt so naked and exposed standing before him this way.

  Her hands delved to the inside of his waistcoat and pushed it open. He shrugged out of it and let it fall to the floor along with his coat, forming a careless, forgotten heap. His mouth came to settle on her right shoulder, tenderly kissing a path to her neck. Her fingers went to work on his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he started to kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear and absentmindedly toyed with the straps of her chemise with his fingers.

  She gasped when he gently nipped her neck. Recovering, she started pulling his shirt off. With a growl, he broke away from her neck and allowed her to remove his shirt. Her eyes did a slow and thorough survey of his chest, mentally taking note of each contour. Nervously, she reached her fingers up to run them over his chest. Funny that she’d been so brave about touching him when she hadn’t known who he was.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Paul reached up and covered her hand, bringing it to rest on his chest. “Touch me,” he rasped.

  Slowly, she moved her hand from the spot he’d placed it. She ran her fingers over his muscled chest, stilling on top of his heart for a second. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, and he hooked his thumbs under the edge of her chemise straps. Bending to kiss her lips again, he groaned when she brought both hands to his chest and slowly trailed them down his torso to the top of his trousers.

  Breaking their kiss, he lowered his head and scattered kisses on her chest above her chemise while his hands dropped lower to caress her breasts. Sighing at the sensation of his strong hands firmly shaping her, her fingers stilled on his buttons. His head lowered again and his mouth closed over the tip of her breast. She groaned and arched her back, offering him more of herself. His hands grabbed the hem of her chemise and she felt it sliding up her skin. Abruptly, his mouth left her breast and she whimpered at the loss of closeness. She felt rather than saw his grin at her reaction and she blushed in embarrassment.

  “No need to be embarrassed,” he murmured. “I want you to enjoy it.”

  Her eyes flew to his. He was right; there was no need to be embarrassed. He was her husband. He wasn’t going to mock her for enjoying his touches. He loved her.

  As soon as her chemise was off, his mouth took hold of her aching nipple once again. Her hands flew to his hair. Twining her fingers in the back of his dyed locks, she held his head to her chest. His hands came to rest on her hips and slowly he walked her backward toward the bed. Laying her down atop the feather mattress, he kissed a trail of kisses from the top of her sternum to her naval. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “Did you know I thought so the night we met?”

  She rolled her eyes and ran her palms up and down his thick arms. “Do you know where you go for lying?” she asked with a sweet smile.

  He chuckled. “Of course. But, I’m not lying. The night we met, I saw you smile and I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “I love to see you smile, Liberty.”

  “I know,” she said honestly. “Only a besotted man makes an idiot of himself in front of his wife on St. Valentine’s Day,” she teased, brushing her knee against his arousal.

  “Right,” he said curtly. “I forgot. You’ve a curiosity for male parts.”

  She put her foot flat on his thigh and inched her toes in the direction of his waist. “Hmm?”

  He stood up all the way and brought his hands to rest on his waistband. “Since you seem to remember my body so well, perhaps I shouldn’t even bother taking off my pants,” he said, rolling his eyes up to look at the ceiling and twisting his lips as if he were in deep contemplation.

  She repositioned herself on the bed so she was lying on her side with her head propped up on her hand. “Drop your pants,” she demanded with a sultry smile.

  His eyes went wide and he gasped. “And here I thought you’d never extend me the invitation again,” he said, feigning shock.

  “I didn’t,” she chirped. “It wasn’t an invitation, it was a demand. Now, drop ‘em.”

  “Or what?” he asked, grinning.

  “Or I’ll do it for you,” she said sweetly.

  He groaned. “As much as I’d love to have you do just that, you’d better not. It might be my undoing.” Making quick work of his boots and trousers, Paul soon stood before her in all his naked glory. “Look your fill,” he told her hoarsely. “I know I’ve been.”

  Liberty giggled. “You know, I have a hard time sometimes remembering you’re a vicar,” she said laughingly. “You have a tendency to say some of the most shocking things.”

  “Only to you, Liberty,” he returned. “As I said, you embolden me. I may be a man of God, but I’m still a man. I still get angry like a man and I still have the same desires of a man.”

  “Clearly,” she remarked dryly with a pointed look at his rampant erection.

  In a second Paul was on the bed with Liberty. His hands traveled down her legs, taking her stockings with them. Carelessly, he threw them to the ground before starting to work on her drawers. When he had her free of her drawers, he brought both hands to her thighs and softly massaged her tender flesh, sending waves
of excitement coursing through her body. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he spread her thighs.

  Her hands kneaded the hard muscle in his broad shoulders and back. His body shifted and came to rest between her legs, causing her to involuntarily stiffen. “Relax,” he murmured into her neck.

  She felt his hand slide up her thigh until he reached the apex of her thighs. Slowly, his fingers started touching her soft flesh, causing a fresh wave of sparks to fly through her. “I thought—”

  He kissed her lips to silence her question. “Just let me touch you first.” He slipped one of his thick fingers inside and she gasped.

  She opened her mouth to ask if he knew what he was doing, but he silenced her again with a playful pinch on her bottom. Perhaps he did know after all, she thought a minute later when an intense pressure started building inside her. She shut her eyes and let the sensations created by his steady rhythm take hold. The pressure became too much and just as it threatened to overtake her, he stilled and withdrew.

  On the verge of protesting his sudden absence, she felt him at her entrance again. This time he felt bigger, thicker. Awareness dawned. This was it. His eyes met hers and they locked gazes as he carefully pushed forward. She felt her body stretching and adjusting to his size, she braced herself for what she knew was coming next.

  With a murmured apology, a look of remorse, and a savage cry, Paul pushed forward past the last barrier between them, catching her startled cry with his mouth. His body stilled and he waited for her eyes to meet his. “There was no other way,” he said raggedly.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him, wiggling her hips to get more comfortable.

  He groaned and lowered his head to rest next to hers for a second before he started moving in a steady rhythm. Instinctively, she started to respond by rocking her hips to match his movements, increasing her pleasure. Once again she felt herself on the verge of something she couldn’t comprehend. Not wanting to escape it again, she closed her eyes and gave herself completely over to it. She was lost to her own pleasure and was barely aware of Paul’s savage growl of release.

  His body rested on top of hers for a minute before he rolled off mumbling something about being too heavy. Laying her head on his chest, she stroked his sternum with one delicate finger.

  “I love you, too,” he said a second after she was done.

  She looked up at him. “You’re better at that than I am.”

  “No. You were just distracted when I did it to you, that’s all,” he pointed out.

  “You’ll just have to do it again sometime,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  “I will. Don’t worry,” he said, holding her close.

  She idly twirled a curl of his chest hair. “I wonder if Brooke’s unlocked the door yet.”

  “Who cares?” he asked, favoring her with a wolfish smile. “I’ve no plans to leave anytime soon. Do you?”

  “Absolutely not. We have duties to fulfill in here,” she teased, moving her hand down to his hip to trace the scar she’d longed to touch since the night she’d first seen him naked.

  He laughed. “You can use that as an excuse to share my bed if you want. But I want to share yours for love. And I think you do, too,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  “It’s true, I do,” she said, snuggling closer. “I’ve hidden behind duty and propriety too long. I want to share your bed because I love you, Paul, not for any other reason.”

  Liberty felt Paul’s large hand rub soothing strokes on her shoulders and was about to close her eyes to go to sleep when her eye caught a little white ball on the floor. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to ball.

  Paul stopped rubbing her and looked to the ball beside his discarded trousers. “I believe that’s a note,” he said matter-of-factly. “The night of the ball it was lying in your bed and I snatched it up before you could see it and realize who I was.”

  “What does it say?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I shoved it in my pockets and forgot all about it until just now.”

  Not wasting another minute, she leapt from the bed and scooped up the ball of paper. Unfolding the note, she read it aloud, “‘Dear Paul and Liberty, I thought you two needed a new start. Love, Brooke’.”

  “No post script from the others begging us not to be angry with them?” Paul inquired with a smile.

  “Actually, yes. Except the three of them begged we not seek revenge by way of killing, maiming, or injuring any of them,” she said, leading them both to laugh at their ridiculous pleas.

  “She was right, you know,” he commented a minute later when his laughter had subsided. “We did need a fresh start. For as much trouble as that masquerade caused, it led to a new beginning for us.”

  “Oh, Paul, I love you,” Liberty said, tossing the paper on the floor.

  “Come show me.”

  And she did.

  Epilogue

  July 1813,

  “Did Mama and Papa say when they’re coming back?” Liberty asked her oldest sister as they sat in the perched look out of Brooke’s ballroom.

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned to face her husband who was staring at the beautiful young lady dressed in blue and surrounded by far more gentlemen than any other young lady in the room. “Do you?”

  “I imagine we all know the same thing,” Andrew commented a moment later. “They’ll be back in a few months.”

  Liberty nodded. A month after Brooke had given birth to little Nathan, her parents had gone back to America to tie up some loose ends. With two of three of their daughters happily married in England, they’d decided to make England their permanent home as well.

  “Don’t worry,” Paul murmured, breaking into her thoughts. “They’ll be back in time.”

  She smiled at him. He was such a good husband to her and she knew he’d make a great father in a matter of months. “I know,” she said, leaning against him.

  “Well, I hope they make it back before a different kind of event altogether,” Andrew put in. “It’s not easy acting as Madison’s guardian. I detest all the gentlemen buzzing around my house vying for her affection.” He shuddered and curled his lip in disgust.

  “Oh, stop,” Brooke told her husband, giving him a playful shove. “She enjoys it, and I daresay she deserves to.”

  “Who’s the frontrunner, then?” Paul asked as he glanced down at Madison who was surrounded by a dozen eligible gentlemen, most of which were titled.

  “Three way tie between Chapman, Drury and Wray,” Andrew said with a scowl. “Not that I dislike the men themselves, mind you. I just don’t like the responsibility.”

  Paul nodded. “Of the three, I’d say Drury. He’s a decent sort.”

  “I agree,” Brooke added. “He’s titled. He’s handsome. He’s wealthy. And he’s helplessly in love with Madison. What more can a girl ask for?”

  Liberty laughed. “My, my, Brooke, you talk about him like he’s your suitor.”

  “Now, now,” Andrew said broke in. “Don’t be putting ideas in her head. She’s all mine.” He wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her tightly to him.

  Liberty was about to make a snarky return when suddenly she was silenced by Brooke’s gasp. “What is he doing here?” she demanded of no one in particular.

  “Who?” Liberty asked, craning her neck to see who Brooke was talking about. “Gateway?” she asked when she saw Gateway standing in the back corner with his hands in his overstuffed pockets. “I told you he came to London to find a wife this season.”

  “Poor girl,” Andrew muttered.

  Brooke sent her husband a sharp look. “No, not Gateway. Believe it or not, I invited him.”

  “You did?” the other three said in unison.

  “Elizabeth asked me to,” she said with a shrug. “She promised me he wouldn’t cause trouble. Anyway he is not the ‘him’ I was referring to. I was referring to him!”

  Liberty’s ey
es followed the direction of Brooke’s accusing finger and thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest when she saw the ‘him’ in question: Robbie Swift.

  Liberty didn’t realize she’d made an unladylike noise until she heard the other three laugh at her “unLibertylike behavior” as they’d all begun to refer to things she did that broke the rules of propriety.

  “Is that the one you told me about?” Paul whispered in her ear.

  “Yes,” she confirmed aloud. “He’s the bounder who stole her heart, broke it, and served it back to her on a platter.”

  “That was quite an eloquent description,” Paul stated.

  “Well, it’s true,” Brooke said in her defense. Snapping her fingers, she turned to her husband and said, “Get over there and throw him out, Andrew.”

  “Why me?”

  Brooke twisted her lips and gave him a bemused look. “Because you’re the host. Because you’re Madison’s guardian.” She moved close to whisper something in Andrew’s ear Liberty and Paul couldn’t have heard no matter how hard they strained.

  Andrew rolled his eyes. “All right, I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Paul said.

  “Men,” Brooke groaned after they’d departed.

  “Tell me about it,” Liberty muttered.

  “Let’s just hope they get that bounder out of here before Madison sees him,” Brooke said just as Paul and Andrew came into view as they walked across the crowded ballroom.

  “Too late.”

  About the Author

  When not writing, reading or doing the dreadful editing, Rose Gordon can be found chasing her kids, pitching a tent, building a campfire or blazing a trail in the great outdoors. She loves to travel and read, and most of all she loves to think of unique ways to meddle in her characters’ lives!

  Her little corner of cyberspace can be found at www.rosegordonromance.com