Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  "I sold it two days ago," he replied. "I had set out to hire a vehicle for our journey when Lady Cheswick offered hers."

  "I thoroughly approve of your economy," Henrietta said. "I am confident that together we will weather the storm."

  "I pray you don't drown with me instead," he remarked dryly.

  His heart lightened, Julian handed Henrietta into the carriage as the footman secured the baggage and then assisted Millie onto the driver's seat. A moment later, he joined her inside the cavernous conveyance. He gave a sound rap on the roof and the vehicle jolted into motion. They set off at a brisk pace, but even Achilles' Balius and Xanthus wouldn't have been fleet enough to satisfy his eagerness to reach their destination.

  Julian stretched out his legs and settled back against the crimson velvet squabs while Henrietta sat across from him rigid and upright, nervously plucking at her gloves. "Is something on your mind, Henrietta?" he gently prodded.

  She heaved a martyr's a sigh. "It's just that I despise long journeys. I hate the confinement. I think I would have preferred your phaeton."

  "Even though I didn't let you drive it?" he teased. Her mouth gave another twitch that suddenly made him want to kiss it. He briefly fantasized about doing precisely that—pulling her onto his lap and kissing her senseless. It would surely be more diverting to her than staring out the window at London traffic.

  She glanced up, caught him looking at her, and hastily averted her gaze again. It had always been so comfortable and easy between them. Why this sudden damnable awkwardness? It seemed strange to him to be conforming to the code of proper conduct knowing they would soon be joined as one—at least in the legal sense.

  He wondered if, in time, she might be gently persuaded to accept conjugal relations with him. When he'd broken with Muriel, he'd vowed to be faithful to Henrietta. He prayed that weakness of the flesh, one of his chief failings, would never cause him to falter. He'd rather cut his own heart out than hurt Henrietta.

  "Julian?" she almost whispered his name. "There's something important we need to discuss. I've had time to consider the terms of our… arrangement."

  Bloody hell! The hollow sensation in his chest returned with a vengeance. "If you are having second thoughts, Henrietta," he managed a bland reply, "I will not hold you to our bargain. I have no qualms about turning the coach around."

  "No! I'm not having second thoughts about wedding you, Julian." She licked her lips and once more gazed down at her hands. "I speak of the terms we agreed upon in regard to consummation. I think I may have spoken rashly."

  "Go on," he encouraged, his pulse accelerating.

  "It's just… we really didn't discuss children. I think now that I would very much like to have a child." She glanced up, her expression uncertain. "That is, if you do not object."

  "Object? Why the devil would you think I'd object?" Coming from a large family, he'd assumed that she would desire to have children but had feared she didn't wish to bear his. "I lost my entire family, Hen. I'd give you a dozen brats if it would please you."

  "You would?" she replied with a look of surprise.

  "Yes," he replied, his gaze holding hers. So she was willing after all? Thank God he no longer had to face the prospect of a celibate marriage. Yet his joy was tempered by the knowledge that she desired his seed rather than his passion. "You do understand exactly what is required to conceive them?" he asked, watching her intently.

  Her gaze flitted to him and then darted to the window. "Of course I do."

  "Procreation does not always occur quickly, Henrietta. It can require substantial effort."

  "I'm aware of that as well," she said.

  "Then you are willing for us to share a bed?"

  "Yes, Julian. I am," she whispered, a flicker of wistfulness in her eyes that incited a sudden ache in his chest. "But only if I am the only one you share it with."

  Her words were a knife that twisted deep in his gut. Did she really think so little of him? "Do you think I intend to be unfaithful to you?"

  "I don't know what to think," she said. "We never discussed it."

  He shut his eyes on a stream of mumbled curses.

  "That's why I had to speak up," she continued, "and why I had to go…" She bit her lip with a guilty look.

  What the devil had she done? "Go where, Henrietta?" he prompted her softly.

  "You won't like it if I tell you."

  "I already don't like it," he growled. "What are you keeping from me?"

  HENRIETTA DREW A BREATH and balled her hands into fists, braced for Julian's anger. "I went to see her," she blurted.

  "Excuse me?" He shook his head with a look of confusion.

  "Your mistress, Julian. I wanted to meet her."

  He gaped in disbelief. "You did what?"

  "There were things I needed to know."

  "Bloody hell!" He glowered. "What kinds of things?"

  "I needed to know if you intended to keep her… and if you loved her."

  It took all the courage she possessed to make her confession, but she could not enter into this union under false pretenses or harboring futile hopes. It would be far better to live with reality and make the best of it than to pine in silence and die a little each day for what she could never have.

  "If you had concerns about that, why the devil didn't you just ask me?"

  "I was afraid you might not be truthful."

  "I would never lie to you, Hen. Don't you know that?"

  "I do now," she replied softly. "Everything you told me was true."

  He surprised her with a dry chuckle. "I would like to have been a fly on that wall. Is your damnable curiosity satisfied now?"

  "Not quite," she replied. "I asked her other things that she refused to answer."

  His gaze narrowed. "What kind of things?"

  "Indelicate things. Things that only your mistress would know."

  "Indeed?" he encouraged, brow cocked.

  Henrietta held his gaze, though she trembled inside. "I don't want a convenient marriage, Julian," she continued, her throat growing tight with mixed hope and fear. "I know you have always been fond of me, but I want more than that. I want to be a true wife to you… in every sense of the word. I wanted to know how to please you, Julian. I wanted to know if I could make you love me." Her heart leaped into her throat as he moved from his seat to take her into his arms.

  "My God, Hen," he groaned. "How can you say those things and expect me to conduct myself as a gentleman?"

  Her gaze held his. "Who says I want you to act like a gentleman?"

  She'd barely got the words out before his mouth ravaged hers with a hot, hungry ferocity that made her insides quiver. He pulled her onto his lap. She shut her eyes on a blissful moan and threw herself headlong into the kiss. He really wanted her? The bulge tenting his breeches told her he did. His masterful tongue teased and tangled with hers while she eagerly followed his lead. She felt instantly bereft as his lips broke from hers to draw her down onto the seat. But then they returned to burn a blazing trail of pleasure down her throat. He went lower still, kissing the exposed tops of her breasts. "Tell me to stop, Henrietta," he said, his breath hot and humid against her skin.

  "Don't stop, Julian," she whispered. The carriage gave a jolt that nearly knocked them from the seat.

  "This is a damnable place to be doing this," he cursed. "We should wait. You deserve a ring and a bed, Hen."

  "Is that what you want? To wait?" she said, biting her lip in disappointment. She'd waited her entire lifetime for this. She didn't care where they were as long as she was with him.

  "I don't want you to think I'm a rutting beast," he said, not quite answering the question.

  "Why would I?" she asked. "Do you consider me a wanton for desiring your touch and your kisses?"

  "That would not be a bad thing, Hen. I would be most pleased to discover that you are a wanton. Nothing inspires a man's desire more than a woman who embraces her passion. Indeed, if you truly wish to please me, you will allow
me to discover what pleases you."

  "But I don't even know," she said breathlessly, shivering as he cupped her breast and caressed the exposed portion with smooth strokes of his thumb. "I've never even been properly kissed until now."

  He froze. "Never?"

  "No, not unless we count the tavern."

  "Then it wasn't a dream? I really did accost you?"

  "No. The brute in the tavern accosted me. You merely kissed me."

  "And that was your first kiss?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you saying Thomas never kissed you?"

  "No," she said. "Not once. Not even good-bye."

  Julian pulled back with an incredulous look. "Let me get this straight, you were going to wed a man who'd never even kissed you?"

  "Yes," she confessed, "but only because the one I really wanted hadn't kissed me either."

  "The one you wanted?" he repeated blankly. "Not Thomas?"

  "No," she said softly. "Not Thomas. I loved him more like a brother, but I would have wed him anyway because he asked me."

  "You weren't in love with him?"

  "No, Julian. I was in love with you," she replied softly, her gaze seeking his. "I have always loved you. I don't expect you to say it back," she blurted, noting the flare of panic in his eyes. "I know you have always been fond of me. That is enough for now. Maybe, in time, it will become more."

  "Do you honestly have no idea how I feel about you?" he asked. "I've had prurient thoughts about you since that day you took a swim in your invisible shift."

  "It wasn't invisible," she insisted.

  "It may as well have been," he replied, resuming his caresses.

  "But you told me that was just a natural reaction that all men have," she said.

  "It was a natural reaction at the time," he confessed, "but that vision of you stayed with me for years. I pleasured myself many times imagining you in that wet shift, and I have fantasized many times about how you would look in it now that you've come into the full bloom of your womanhood."

  She swallowed hard. "You have?"

  "Yes. Have you ever pleasured yourself, Henrietta?" he asked, his brown eyes darkening almost to black as he slipped a hand under her skirts and skimmed it lightly up her calf. Her pulse hammered in her throat as it slid to the inside of her thigh and then crept higher.

  "You haven't answered me," he said.

  Her breath hitched as he approached that throbbing place that now beat in tempo with her racing heart. "N-no," she replied shakily. "I haven't."

  "Would you like me to pleasure you?" he asked.

  "Yes," she released on a long breath.

  "I won't take you until we wed," he said. "You have my promise on that, but I wish to touch and taste you, Henrietta. I want to discover how to please you."

  "Taste?" she repeated. "You mean kiss?"

  "Yes," he replied, adding darkly, "the most intimate kind of kiss."

  She didn't fully understand his meaning, but his tone alone sent ripples of sensation deep into her belly. Before she could ask him to explain, he kissed her again, but this time slowly, deeply, his lips and tongue tracing, teasing, and exploring her mouth as his fingers traced and teased the sensitive, fleshy folds between her thighs. She sucked in a gasp at the shocking sensation of his long and knowing fingers sliding into her wetness. He moved back down to her breast, rooting in her bodice and tugging at her stays until he freed a nipple that he took eagerly into his mouth.

  So that's what he meant by tasting. She arched into him with a moan of pleasure as he suckled one breast and then the other. His fingers continued to play, and then the heel of his palm joined in, massaging circles over her hidden nub, circles that created the most exquisite sensations. Suddenly, her breath came shorter, in spastic pants, then her body seized and her eyes shut on a long, rapturous shudder.

  "What did you just do to me?" she asked.

  "I gave you release," he said.

  "Release from my own body?" she asked. "That's exactly what it felt like. No wonder you said it was impossible to describe."

  "Consider that your first lesson in pleasure. It will be even better when we are joined. There are innumerable ways to experience pleasure together. I hope you will be as eager as I am to explore them all."

  "I told you once that I would want to do so," she said.

  "I remember that conversation very well, Hen. You don't know how close you came to being ravished on the spot."

  "Is that why you were so eager to leave the lake?"

  "Yes," he said. "I wanted you even then."

  "I didn't know," she said softly. "I believed the contrary."

  "And now you know differently."

  "Indeed." She smiled. "I'm much gratified to know differently."

  As he shifted his body from hers, she became aware of his arousal, stiff and prodding against her belly. "I wish to touch you, Julian."

  "You may touch me however you wish," he replied, placing her hands on his chest.

  "No." She shook her head. "I meant I wish to touch you in the same way you touched me."

  His brows pulled together. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

  "Why not?" she asked. "You touched me very intimately. I want to know your body just as you wanted to know mine. Please, Julian," she pleaded. "I just want you to show me how you like to be touched."

  He eyed her warily. "Have you ever seen a male… er… appendage… before?"

  No," she confessed. "I have not. Why do you ask?"

  "Because most virgins prefer their first encounter with a man's cock to be under cover of darkness."

  "Why is that?" she asked.

  "Because it can be intimidating."

  "I'm not afraid of it, Julian. I'm really quite curious."

  He exhaled a sigh of defeat and then took her hand in his, guiding it down between them, placing it on the protrusion in his breeches. "This is what a man experiences when he's aroused."

  "It's rather large and very hard." His expression contorted as she ran her hand over it, tracing the rigid shape. "You will put this inside me?" she asked.

  "Yes," he hissed. "Are you satisfied now, Hen?"

  "Hardly," she snorted. "I haven't even seen it. Please take it out, Julian."

  "No." He scowled. "I will not take it out."

  "But why not?" she asked in affront. "If you intend to put it inside me, haven't I a right to see it first?"

  "Damn it, Hen!" he moaned. "Your curiosity is going to bloody kill me." He tore impatiently at the buttons on his falls. Her eyes widened in shock at the first sight of his pillar of manly flesh. Should she take Lady Cheswick's advice and touch him? Transfixed by its proud purple crown, she reached out tentatively, stroking with her fingertips. It was surprisingly smooth, almost silky in texture, and very warm. It jerked at the contact of her fingers.

  Julian shuddered.

  Startled, she drew back. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "Not wrong exactly," he said. "It tickled."

  "Tickled? Oh? Then how should I touch it?"

  "Not timidly," he replied. She sucked in a breath as he wrapped her fingers around the hard, hot shaft. Holding his hand over hers, he lightly squeezed and then commenced moving their joined hands up and down. "Like this," he replied, teeth clenched.

  "Are you in pain?"

  "No, Hen. It's just holding back is bloody uncomfortable."

  "Holding what back?"

  "The urge to finish what we began," he bit back, his voice as harsh as his expression.

  "You mean you desire release?" she said.

  "Yes! Damn it, Henrietta!" he growled, removing her hand from him. "You are pushing this beyond my bounds of restraint. I promised not to debauch you. You're making that promise very hard to keep."

  "But you gave me release without being inside me," she reasoned. "Does it not work the same way with a man? Can I not do something for you?"

  "There are a number of things you could do for me, Henrietta, but it's too soon for that. You
are uninitiated in these things."

  "You fear putting me off? That I would be shocked or repulsed?"

  "Yes."

  "But you said I should not be timid."

  "I did, but it would be far better for us to explore these things in stages. Even if it bloody kills me, we will wait," he replied with an audible grinding of teeth.

  "Is that truly what you want?"

  "Yes, Hen. I wish to do the honorable thing by you. I will not allow a cloud of shame or remorse to hover over this union. You deserve no less."

  "I'm disappointed," she said, "but happy at the same time."

  "I will make you very happy," he said and raised her hand to his lips. "You have my promise on it."

  TWO NIGHTS LATER, AFTER having repeated their solemn vows at St. Michael's with Harry and Penelope as witnesses, Julian kept that promise. The servants stood with mouths agape as Julian carried Henrietta over the threshold at Price Hall and straight up the staircase to the master bedchamber, where he kicked the door closed behind them.

  "What about the wedding breakfast?" she asked breathlessly. "You have scandalized everyone, Julian."

  "It won't be the first time," Julian replied grimly. "Nor will it be the last."

  Her cheeks flamed. "But they must all know why—"

  "I don't care, Hen." He set her on her feet, spun her around, and began unlacing her gown and stays. "You are now my wife." His lips brushed the back of her neck, sending a ripple down her spine. "My patience is at an end."

  He turned her around to face him and drew her into his arms for the tenderest of kisses. She entwined her own arms around his neck, melting into him with a sigh. "I've dreamed of this moment."

  "I'll try not to hurt you," he said, concern clouding his dark eyes. "But there's no way to avoid it."

  "I know," she said. "I don't mind." Her eyes met his. "I want this. I want you. I've always wanted you."

  "You may not enjoy it the first time," he said, peeling her gown slowly from her shoulders and kissing each one in turn. "But I swear I'll make it up to you."

  She stepped out of her gown as it slithered to the floor. Her stays followed. Dressed in only her shift, shoes, and stockings, she reached her hands inside his coat. "I want to undress you too. I want to see what manner of husband I have acquired."