Caroline rolled over, as though sleeping on her side might quiet her mind, but it made her think instead of how pleasant it would be to feel Tristan’s strong chest behind her, and his arms clasped around her. She thought then of something else long and hard pressed against her from behind and rolled over again, berating herself, but also wondering if Tristan might have left his chamber unbolted in case she wished to join him. She had heard him open the door, but not the sound of a bolt sliding home or latch turning.
She stared into the darkness, pondering the idea of stealing across the hall to join him. She could not shake the thought, and wished that he would come to her, but knew he could not. Her door must remain locked while she was in her room, and even if he felt the same desire that she did, he would never risk her reputation by rapping on it. She found herself rising from the bed, walking softly to the door, and silently pulling back the bolt. She opened the door slowly, relieved that it didn’t squeak, and looked into the dark hall, seeing Tristan’s door just across and down a few paces from hers. She glided silently out of her room, and gently turned the handle on the other door. It swung inward without resistance.
Silence reigned in the room, and she wondered if Tristan was asleep, or awake and waiting to see what she would do. The door had opened quietly, she had hesitated some time before deciding to visit him, and his day had been far more physically taxing that hers. It was entirely possible that he slept.
She smiled, pondering the ways she might awaken him, and then moved quietly to the edge of the bed. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, illuminating his relaxed face, and his breath was deep and even. Caroline slipped her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the bed, then lifted a corner of the coverlet and slipped in beside him. Tristan didn’t react, so she moved closer to him, placing a hand on his bare chest, and stroking him lightly. Placing her other arm across him, she leaned over and licked a flat masculine nipple, enjoying the freedom his passivity gave her.
Her boldness increased, and she made her way down the ridged muscles of his abdomen, then blew into his navel, licking and nibbling her way around it. One questing hand followed the arrow of hair that led toward what she sought, and she felt her own nipples growing tight, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically, and the creamy moisture flowing as she browsed, licking and caressing him at her leisure.
Caroline allowed her fingers to move lower, skating her hands over Tristan’s hipbones, sliding them over the fine skin there, and down to the satisfyingly taut muscles of his strong thighs. She massaged them gently, the slightly rough texture of the hair there tickling her palms. She looked up in the dark to see if his eyes were open, but they were still closed, and his breathing remained even. She could resist no longer, and moved her hand back to the juncture of his thighs, to find him in a condition that promised her satisfaction in the near future.
She grasped his hard, thick length in one hand and swept her tongue over the engorged head, first licking, then opening her lips to bring him into the warm, wet opening of her mouth. She sucked him firmly, taking as much as she could of his hard length in her mouth, and then slowly sliding back, as her tongue stroked over the ridges and veins on the underside of his penis. She took him inside again, opening to take him down to the root, feeling him on all the sensitive surfaces of her mouth. As she sucked and licked him voraciously, he remained motionless, but she thought she felt the muscles in his thighs clenching. Finally a groan of pleasure broke from him, and she raised her head.
“Have you awoken then?” she teased.
She suddenly found herself on her back, with Gresham’s hands pinning her wrists to the bed as she felt his muscular frame settle over hers, his erection, moist from her mouth, nudging up against the juncture of her thighs. He looked down at her, his grey eyes shining in the darkness, and laughed slightly.
“I sleep very lightly my dear, so I awoke when I heard the latch drop as you closed the door. But a gentleman should never prevent a charming lady from working her will on him.” He dropped his head towards Caroline, and kissed her fiercely, his lips opening hers, and his tongue thrusting into her, turning her to fire as he stroked her with fluid skill. She moaned, hips bucking beneath him, in a silent plea to feel him inside her.
“Not yet,” he said. “You tormented me so sweetly, I feel compelled to return the favor. But first, tell me what brought you to my bed tonight. Why should I not withhold my favors, when you will not acknowledge me?” As he spoke, he nudged against her cleft with the tip of his erection, pressing against a spot so sensitive that Caroline quivered at the slight pressure.
“Tristan, you know that I want you, and hold you in great affection, but that I fear for my heart, were I to marry you, and find you faithless,” she gasped.
He pulled a pillow from the head of the bed, and pushed it under her hips, lifting them, and spreading her legs, gently pressing two fingers into her moist and engorged cleft. He stroked them against the sensitive spot on the inner wall, and pulled them out slick with her dew. He smoothed her moisture over the tender pink folds he had exposed, and ran a finger along their now slick softness as Caroline trembled. Pinioning her wrists once again, he laid his cock against her cleft, this time sliding back and forth slowly, as she squirmed beneath him, vainly attempting to bring him inside.
“You don’t trust me,” he said. “You lack faith not only in my love, but also my honor, to keep a promise to you.”
“How many gentlemen do you or I know who cleave only unto their wives, and consider it a matter of honor to do so?” she asked fiercely, even as she struggled to maintain the exciting pressure of his flesh in the exact spot that cried out for it. Tristan resisted her attempts, merely sliding slowly and gently against her. He bent down to circle a nipple with his tongue, and then blow on it.
“I gave you my word, Caro that you would be the only one. I have never done that before.”
“Every man who has ever wed has given his word, before God, whose wrath he should fear above that of a woman, and how many of those vows are kept?” she asked.
“As Congreve said, ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ so perhaps that is more to be feared than God’s wrath,” Tristan returned, sliding off of her, and lowering himself to bite gently at her belly. “Darling, arguing with you is nearly as entertaining as making love to you. Can you not see how well matched we are?” he continued, tracing a path with his tongue downwards, blowing into the tight curls guarding her creamy slit, to open her further, and slide his fingers into her. Caroline gasped, and pushed against his hand.
“Please Tris, please,” she moaned. “I’m burning for you.”
“I know my sweet,” he assured her. “I can see it and feel it.” He withdrew his fingers, and spread her wide, then licked her, up and down, paying careful attention to the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Caroline felt the spiraling, clenching tightness rising, but somehow he always drew back just before she achieved satisfaction.
“Please, Tristan,” she gasped. “Let me come.”
“Please Caroline,” he laughed. “Marry me.”
She glared defiantly at him, and then suddenly rolled over and sat up, leaving him lounging on his elbow, looking a bit puzzled. Caroline pushed on his chest, and when he fell backward, she straddled him, grasping his thick length and sliding it into her drenched slit, virtually collapsing on his chest with the pleasure that overcame her as he filled her. After a moment, she pushed up from his chest to kneel over him.
“It seems I must take my own pleasure,” she said, and lifting her full breasts, she rolled her nipples between her fingers, as she lifted herself up on Tristan’s cock. Caroline simultaneously felt as though all of her sensations were centered between her legs, where a demanding tension coiled in her, and as if every inch of her skin was sensitized and flooded with heat. She slid down slowly on him, then placed her palms on his shoulders, using the leverage to grind fiercely down against him. She rose once more, and then as she slipped down again, she was ov
ertaken with bliss. A tide of pleasure flooded her, radiating through her body, even as she felt as though her channel clenched him so tightly they would be joined forever. She shook with the violence of her climax, and collapsed on his chest, limp and boneless.
As though he understood the sensual cataclysm that gripped her, Tristan held Caroline in his arms, stroking her back as her breathing slowed. When her eyes opened, he was gazing into them intently, his grey eyes soft, without the cynical glint they usually held. Still hard inside her, he rolled her over, kissing her gently, nibbling tenderly at her lips, ears, and throat, as he slipped very slowly back and forth within her. He braced himself on forearms, threading his fingers through her hair, long since shaken loose from its plait, and pushed his hips against her pelvis, seeking the exact contact that would bring her to another peak.
Caroline, who had thought she couldn’t experience another such shattering experience that night, found her excitement rising again. She looked into Tristan’s intent, yet pleasure-softened, eyes and knew somehow that hers must look the same to him, as though the universe was contained in their bed, and their lovemaking was at the center of it. He pushed a little harder and deeper into her, and she felt herself clenching with desire around him again, and as she dissolved again, a feeling that they were inextricably joined in spirit floated through her, and she clasped him closer as though they could become one being. Tristan felt his own climax approaching, and suddenly had a vision of their children, along with her son, playing in the gardens at Gresham, and knew that somehow, he had to win this woman. Without her, his life stretched before him, full of social amusements, shallow friendships, and a stale marriage made only for the sake of an heir. He wanted her not casually, but fully, in every sense of the word. With a groan he joined Caroline as he gave in and released himself into her welcoming body.
They rolled onto their sides, holding each other. Tristan slid a thigh between hers, and Caroline rested her head on his arm. But as the pleasure and feeling of oneness receded, fear filled her. She felt far too much for Tristan, she knew, and could no longer put her future happiness at risk by growing still more attached to him. This tender, caring side couldn’t stand the test of time, she thought. He would inevitably leave her devastated were she to continue their liaison, or still worse, do as he wished and marry him.
She gently disentangled herself. “I must go,” she murmured. “We cannot risk falling asleep and being discovered in your room in the morning.”
Tristan looked up at her in the darkness, and paused, as if searching for words. Finally, he simply nodded. “You are right as always, my dear. We cannot be together tomorrow.”
Caroline felt tears sting her eyelids, and was thankful for the darkness. She slipped from the bed and pulled her nightdress over her head, then lifted the latch and left his room silently. Tristan rose, and stood at the closed door, waiting until he heard her door shut, and the bolt slide home to lock his own.
Chapter 27
The next morning dawned fair, and Caroline rose early to find Tristan was up before her. A breakfast had been laid out, and the carriages and horses were ordered up for an hour hence. Quickly and efficiently, the party was fed and Caroline and Cecilia were ensconced in the post chaise, their luggage stowed away. Lord Barford engaged to ride beside the carriage, and so Lord Gresham bid them adieu, intending to go on ahead in his curricle.
“I will stop in Grosvenor Square when I return to town and let the dowager know that all is well,” he told Caroline. “While I’m not sure she will be glad to see me, I imagine she will be glad of the news I bear.”
“I feel that all I do is thank you,” said Caroline. “And yet, I must do so again. Please let my mother know that Cecilia and I are well and I will wait on her tomorrow.”
“Caro, I would do anything you asked of me,” he murmured, and turned away, shaking Barford’s hand and climbing into his curricle. With a lazy wave he was gone, and Caroline was left gazing after him, her mind in turmoil. If only she could believe that he could be constant enough to love her for a lifetime.
The trip back to London was long, though Cecilia was happy to regale Caroline with plans for her wedding trip and thoughts on how she might decorate her rooms at Barford Park. Caroline attempted to keep her mind from wandering, with indifferent success. She wondered if Gresham was in London already, and smiled slightly at the thought of him calling on her mother. At least the news was happy, she thought, so the dowager could not hold that against him. It had been more than good of him to assist her, and she might almost believe his protestations of love if she did not know that a man of his type and years was unlikely to change permanently, no matter his intentions. But it was a pity, as she would miss his kindness and his humor. She sighed.
“What is wrong?” demanded Cecilia. “Do you not like the thought of blue carpets? Do you think perhaps green would be better with my complexion?”
Caroline pulled herself back to the present. “Not at all, dear,” she answered. “I think blue would be perfect, I am just a bit weary.”
They arrived in London near dusk, and there was a burst of activity as Cecilia and Caroline were assisted from the chaise and their baggage was brought into the house. Lord Barford dismounted but did not come in, saying that he must inform his mother of his engagement, and promising to call on Cecilia the very next day. He bid a polite good night to Caroline, pressed a kiss to Cecilia’s hand, and rode off.
Caroline stood in the hallway and removed her hat and gloves, relieved to be home, but tired to her very bones. It had been an exhausting two days, and she could hardly believe the outcome had been so favorable for her volatile cousin.
“We need dinner, Bunton,” she said. “Tell Mrs. Beals it need not be elaborate, as I know she had no idea if we would be home tonight.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Bunton. He bowed and departed for the kitchen, where the staff was speculating at length on the activities of the past days. He would have very much liked to know himself what had transpired.
Caroline went into the sitting room and stood for a moment, enjoying the silence, but then walked to her desk and, seating herself, pulled a piece of paper towards her. She dipped a pen in the inkwell, and bit her lip. After a few moments of thought, she hastily wrote out a few sentences, and then folded and sealed the note. As she was addressing it, Bunton entered.
“Mrs. Beals says dinner will be ready in an hour, my lady,” he said.
Caroline smiled, grateful that her staff was so efficient. “Thank her for me, Bunton,” she said. “And would you make sure this is delivered in the morning?” She handed him the note.
“Yes, my lady.” Bunton glanced at the address. “Will there be anything else?”
Caroline stood. “No, thank you. Send Beckham to my room, I must dress for dinner.”
Bunton was gone with a bow, and Caroline shut her desk, and, with a sigh, left the room.
Later that day, Lord Gresham sat in his library, Caroline’s letter spread out before him. While polite, the words on the page were quite firm. Lady Eskmaine, while grateful for his assistance and honored by his proposal of marriage, reiterated that she had no intention of joining her life to his in perpetuity. The countess felt quite sure that his happiness would be best served if he remained unmarried.
He looked up and frowned as his butler entered the room and hovered just inside the door. “Yes Chapman, what is it?” he asked.
“There is a lady to see you, my lord.”
Gresham’s eyebrows rose. He had thought his staff better trained than to bother him with such things. “A lady? Surely you did not tell her I would see her.”
The butler paused dramatically. “She says she is the Duchess of Gravesmere,” he announced.
Gresham blinked. “Well, in that case, I suppose you must show her in,” he said. “And Chapman—I depend upon your discretion in this matter.”
The butler bowed, appearing slightly offended. “Of course, my lord. You may always depend on me.�
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When the servant departed, Tristan rose and walked to window, where he waited. He could not imagine what the Duchess of Gravesmere wanted with him, but someone else could have used her name. But when the door opened, and Chapman ushered in a slight figure with titian hair, dressed in the very first stare of fashion in an apple green silk toilette, open over a pale pink and grey striped silk petticoat with a grey fichu, and ribbons of pink and grey streaming from her sleeves, Tristan was in no doubt that it was that peeress indeed.
Gresham bowed, not showing his surprise. “Your Grace, how delightful to see you,” he said. “May I offer you some refreshments?”
Allegra shook her head. “No, thank you,” she replied.
“That will be all, Chapman,” said Lord Gresham to the butler, who withdrew reluctantly. As the door closed, Gresham turned to Allegra.
“May I ask the meaning of this visit, Your Grace?” he asked. “I hardly think your excitable husband would be pleased that you are here.”
Allegra gazed up at him with her clear blue eyes. “I gather that our family—including my husband--is somewhat beholden to you,” she said.
Lord Gresham shook his head. “’Twas nothing,” he said. “A small service performed out of friendship for Lady Eskmaine, and one which his grace would have handled as easily, were he in town. I beg that you not mention it.”
Allegra nodded briskly. “Then I won’t. Because that is not really why I am here. I came because of your friendship with Lady Eskmaine.”
“Ah.” Gresham’s heavy eyelids lowered, and he turned away, elegantly taking a pinch of snuff. “What is it about my acquaintance with the Countess that inspires this highly improper visit?” he asked.
Sense & Sensuality: Caroline's After Dark Georgian Romance (The Gravesmeres Book 3) Page 27
