by Merry Farmer
“I have the perfect plan to ruin Lord Cosgrove,” she announced, her eyes bright with mischief.
“God, I love you,” he burst out, her declaration pushing him over the edge. He leaned into the hall, scooped his arm around her waist, and tugged her both into the apartment and up against him. Before she could say another word, he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with all the passion he could muster and then some.
She sighed deep in her throat, looping her arms over his shoulders, and making the most delicious noise of surrender as he danced his tongue along hers in imitation of something else he wanted to do to her as soon as possible. That adorable sound turned into an alarmed squeak, and she leapt back as she noticed Tuttle grinning at them from the table.
“Oh! I didn’t know you had company,” Phoebe stammered, pink-faced and lovely in so many ways.
She tried to pull away, but Danny held her firmly around the waist. “What, Tuttle? He was just leaving,” he said, grinning like an imp. The contrast in his mood before she arrived and now that she was in his arms was so sharp that it made him dizzy.
“I was just leaving,” Tuttle repeated, crossing the room to fetch his hat from the rack by the door. “You think about what I said,” Tuttle charged Danny. “It could solve everything. Good day, Lady Phoebe.” He nodded to Phoebe.
As soon as Tuttle was gone, Danny swept Phoebe fully into his arms again and kissed her, raising his hands to undo the buttons of her blouse. He had every intention of getting her flat on her back in his bed as quickly as possible, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
“What could solve everything?” she asked with a plaintive sigh that sounded more like she was begging him to love her than asking about his business.
“Do you know,” he said between kisses to her mouth, cheek, and neck as he pushed the front of her blouse open, “I have no idea.”
He finished with her buttons and pushed her blouse off her shoulders, sweeping his hands up her corseted sides to cradle her breasts. From there, he bent low enough to rain kisses across the swell of her breasts while raking her nipples through the fabric of her corset and chemise with his thumbs. They responded pertly as she made beautiful sounds of enjoyment.
“I hope you don’t mind being thoroughly loved in the middle of the afternoon,” he said, backing her toward his bedroom. “Because more than anything in the world right now, I need to be buried deep inside of you.”
“Oh,” she sighed shakily. “And I haven’t even shown you the scandalous story written about us yet.”
Danny stopped, standing straight and grinning down at her. “What story?” Anxiety that someone had printed something horrible about him in some newspaper threatened to destroy his amorous mood.
But Phoebe merely grinned and handed him a slightly pink newspaper. Danny let her go long enough to take it from her. He recognized it as a journal that published erotic stories and that had been circulating among the upper classes for the last few months as though it were made of gold and reading it would make your cock grow three inches.
“The Fallen Angel and the Beast?” he laughed at the title of one story that began on the front page. “Is that us?”
“Apparently, it is,” Phoebe said, a naughty glint in her eyes.
That glint was enough to move mountains. He tossed the newspaper over his shoulder and swept her into his arms again. “I’ll read it later,” he said. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as best she could in her dowdy skirt as he carried her to his bedroom and laid her across his bed.
“Don’t you want to know my plan to ruin Cosgrove?” she asked breathlessly as he unfastened her skirt and tugged it off her legs, along with her petticoat and stockings.
“Does it involve beating him over the head with an iron bar, stuffing him into a burlap sack, and throwing him in the Thames?” Danny asked, towing off his shoes and fumbling his way through removing his own clothes. Clothes were such a nuisance.
“No,” Phoebe giggled, unfastening her corset and wriggling out of the rest of her clothes. “But it does involve exposing Cosgrove’s connection to my father and all the wickedness he was involved in, thus ruining his standing in the eyes of society and the parliamentary committee.”
Danny had his shirt off and his hands working through the fastenings of his trousers as she finished her speech. He paused, then said, “Love, the only thing I care about being exposed right now is your gorgeous pussy.”
Phoebe’s eyes went wide for a moment. Then she squirmed out of her drawers, tossed them aside, and opened her legs for him.
His cock jumped at the sight of her, already glistening and wet. His hands shook with such eagerness that he had a hard time undoing the fastenings and shucking them. His grateful prick sprang to full attention as he straightened. She’d thrown off the rest of her clothes by then and lay naked on her back, legs still spread, breasts pink and full, nipples hard, with an expression of invitation that stopped his lungs from working.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he growled, grabbing his cock and working it for a few, blissful strokes, just to see the hunger in her eyes.
“And you’re magnificent,” she panted.
It would be torture to pace himself, but he did his best as he climbed onto the bed over top of her. He leaned down to kiss her, teasing her with only the barest of contact between their overheated bodies. His cock ached to be inside of her, but he wanted to make her come first. Blessedly, since sex was so new to her and her desire was monumental, that hadn’t proved hard to do in their times together.
He broke away from her mouth, shifting to suckle one of her breasts while balancing himself above her as best he could. “I know that journal, by the way,” he said between kisses and raking her nipple with his tongue. “I know the sort of things that author writes.”
“I found the bit that I read exceptionally intriguing,” she said, breathless and high-pitched. “Particularly the bit about what the hero got up to with his mouth between the heroine’s legs.”
A shiver of excitement shot down Danny’s spine tightening his balls and pushing him alarmingly toward the edge. He balanced himself above her. “Love, did you just give me an order about what you want me to do to you?”
She bit her lip, cheeks pink, body flushed, mischief in her eyes. “Is it an order you’d obey?” she asked.
He laughed, then lifted her around the waist, twisting so that they lay the right way around on the bed, Phoebe with her head resting on the pillows. Once that was taken care of, he scooped his hands under her knees, prying her legs wide apart and bending her knees to give him full access. She gasped and cooed deliciously at everything he did, resting her arms on the pillows with her hands over her head in a position of blissful surrender.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled before bending down to rake his tongue along the wet slit of her pussy.
She gasped and bucked, but he’d only just begun giving her what she wanted. He wasn’t sure she actually knew what she was in for, which was the most arousing thing he’d ever experienced. He threw his heart and soul into pleasuring her, using his tongue and fingers, licking and stroking and plunging inside of her. She rewarded him with a maddening series of mewling cries, vocal gasps, and impulsive movements against him. Her pleasure was raw and entirely artless. Just feeling the way she abandoned herself to pleasure made Danny want to forget everything else in his frustrating life.
When she came, she came hard, her breath turning to a series of anticipatory pants as the pleasure built within her, then bursting with a sensual cry as her cunny throbbed with pleasure. It was so powerful that Danny moaned along with her. He couldn’t resist partaking fully in her release and quickly adjusted his stance so that he could plunge deep into her before she finished squeezing. He held himself there for a moment, reveling in her body’s response before seeking his own release.
She
was hot and tight, and every inch of her drove him wild. It was more than being inside of her, the friction glorious and sensual. It was the way she wrapped her arms and legs around him, the sound of her full-throated sighs as she welcomed him within her, and the way she reached down to grasp his arse, urging him on. He lost his head, thrusting powerfully into her over and over, losing his mind a little more with each movement and with the way she moaned in ecstasy in time to his thrusts.
He wanted it to last forever, but with a burst of lightning and adoration, the tension within him became unbearably huge, and he exploded, his soul unraveling within her even as his seed rushed into her. It was brilliant on every level, light and pleasure and everything pure and good in the world surging through him with sensations that were almost unbearably hot.
As fast as those sensations overtook him, they tumbled into the peaceful glory of completion and the disjointed feeling of becoming one with her that came with it. He moved inside of her until he couldn’t anymore, then collapsed to her side, careful not to crush her as he did.
“Marry me, Phoebe.”
The words floated out of him, with spent passion that came straight from his heart, before he could stop himself.
Her panting stopped abruptly as she held her breath. He settled on his side, pulling her overheated body against his, searching her eyes for an answer. Those eyes were wide and stunned, but also hazed with passion.
“Marry you?” She breathed again, her chest rising and falling, stars in her eyes.
The cat was out of the bag, so he might as well let it run free. “I’m serious,” he said, stroking her hair away from her damp face. “I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. You’re beautiful and intelligent, and you’re the only woman I could ever see myself spending the rest of my life with. And after these last few days, who knows? You might already be carrying my child.” He stroked a hand down to her belly, feeling her shiver as he did. “Marry me,” he repeated.
She sucked in a breath of wonder, then sighed, “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”
She threw herself against him, knocking him to his back in her enthusiasm to kiss him. He laughed, letting her ravish him as thoroughly as she wanted to. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in energy.
“Give me a moment, love,” he continued to laugh as she kissed his neck and chest. “Give me a few minutes to rest and we can go again.”
“Well, hurry up,” she panted, returning to his mouth, which she kissed mercilessly.
It was the most beautiful, wonderful thing he’d ever experienced. And yet, part of him knew he was committing a cardinal sin that would come back to bite him.
Chapter 15
She was engaged. Phoebe breathed a happy sigh at the thought as the first rays of sun peeked through the curtains, bathing Danny’s room in hazy light. Against all odds, she had met the most wonderful, original man in the world, fallen deeply in love with him, and he had asked her to be his wife. She snuggled against him, throwing her bare leg over his equally bare thigh and nuzzling his shoulder. She wouldn’t have to work at Harrods anymore, although she would miss Hilda and Imogen. She doubted that Danny had the means to keep her in luxury, but she would be the very best middle-class wife to him that she possibly could, even if her mother—
Phoebe snapped to full wakefulness with a gasp, sitting bolt-upright. Her mother.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered into the scant light.
“What?” Danny’s drowsy voice said next to her. He reached a hand to rub her back. “Come back to bed, love, it’s only—shit.”
Danny sat abruptly beside her as he glanced to the carriage clock sitting on the mantel of the fireplace across from his bed. It was nearly nine o’clock.
“Oh, no,” Phoebe gulped, throwing her legs over the side of Danny’s bed and nearly tumbling to the floor. “Mama will be wondering where I am. She’ll want to know why I didn’t come home yesterday.”
Danny climbed out of the other side of the bed and lunged toward his wardrobe as Phoebe picked up the bits and pieces of her clothes from the floor. “Maybe she won’t have noticed,” he said without any confidence.
“I wasn’t home for supper last night,” Phoebe said warily, sending Danny a foreboding look as she dressed as quickly as she could. “We always eat supper together. Mostly because she cannot cook for herself.”
“You’ve been doing all the cooking?” Danny asked, a small, impressed smile interrupting the anxiety of his features.
“Who else is there to do it?” Phoebe said. In all honesty, she was proud of her newfound ability to cook, although the meals she was able to manage weren’t anything like the sumptuous feasts she’d enjoyed growing up.
There wasn’t time to think about the past, though. Only the miserable present and the dressing down she was certain to get when she stumbled back into her flat and faced her mother, looking as debauched as her night with Danny had made her. She caught sight of herself in a small mirror in the corner of Danny’s room and groaned. She looked worse than she thought.
But she felt magnificent. There was that, at least. And Danny had asked her to marry him. She hadn’t done anything that thousands of other women before her hadn’t done.
“We need to move fast today if we’re to find further proof Cosgrove was responsible for burning down the pub,” Danny said once he was dressed. “I have a few ideas, and I wouldn’t mind your company as I explore them.”
“I’ll need to freshen up first,” Phoebe said with a sheepish, sideways look.
Danny grinned. “I suppose we did get a bit mussed up last night.”
Phoebe giggled. “With any luck, Mama will still be in bed,” she said, finishing dressing and starting for the main room of Danny’s flat. “She has taken to lying in since we moved here.”
“I’ll come downstairs with you to make sure she doesn’t tear your head off or run you through if she thinks the worst,” Danny said, following her out of the bedroom, shirt and waistcoat unbuttoned, carrying his shoes instead of wearing them.
Phoebe turned at the flat door to look at him and ended up laughing. “In your present state, I’m afraid you’ll cause more trouble for me instead of alleviating what is sure to come.”
Danny bent to stomp into his shoes as Phoebe waited for him by the door. As he straightened and glanced down at his appearance, he laughed. “I’ll just tell your dear mum that I can look however I want or do whatever I want with my bride.”
A girlish giggle escaped Phoebe before she could do anything to make herself look like less of a lovesick ninny. She pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall, happier than she’d been in ages.
But as they headed to the stairs, she noticed Danny’s smile fade.
“Love, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said as they descended one floor and set out into the second-floor corridor.
“Oh?” Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at him as she reached for the door of her and her mother’s flat. “Something good, I hope.”
His face pinched and he rolled his shoulders. “It is good, if you ask me. In a way. At least, I hope you’ll find it good. You see, I was at John Dandie’s office the other day, and I ran into a bloke named Lionel Mercer, who is on familiar terms with quite a few people, including solicitors.”
Phoebe listened to his story without understanding what he was talking about as she opened her flat door and stepped inside.
Danny continued with, “Anyhow, Mercer and I—”
“Oh. There you are.”
Phoebe froze two steps into the flat, her heart squeezing its way up to her throat as her mother greeted her from the table by the window. She was dressed in her morning robe and old fashioned mob-cap, sipping tea and frowning. Danny stepped into the flat behind her, nearly bumping into Phoebe’s back as she stopped so suddenly.
“And you, Mr. Long.” Her mother’s frown turned into a downright scowl. “I trust you enjoyed your little excursion?”
Phoebe’s mouth flapped as she scrambled desperately for something to say that would make her look like less of a strumpet in her mother’s eyes. “Um…er….”
Her mother sniffed and took a sip of her tea. “I am firmly against this practice of young ladies strolling about the city in the early morning hours, even if this new fad for athletic activity for women has become popular. Women should spend their mornings in the home. It would stop them from encountering unworthy company while wandering the streets.”
Instead of putting Phoebe at ease, her mother’s words made her gape harder. “I…was…out for a morning stroll?” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach.
“As I was telling my dear friend last night over supper at…at whatever the name of that fashionable place is in Leicester Square, young women these days have been given entirely too much license and should be treated with stricter discipline.”
Phoebe swayed on her spot, hardly believing her luck. At least, she thought it was luck. “And how was your supper?” she asked in a weak voice, praying that her mother had been so distracted by her friend that she’d neither realized Phoebe hadn’t come home for supper nor figured out where she might have been.
“It was divine,” her mother smiled and sighed, sinking into her chair. Her face took on a far-away look. “We had roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. I haven’t had beef in nearly a year. I could have eaten the entire cow, it was so delicious. And you should have seen what the chef did with the potatoes. They were—”
“Excuse me, Mama.” Phoebe bolted past her mother, no interest whatsoever in hearing the contents of her supper inventoried, and headed for her room. “I have to…I have to prepare for work.”
She didn’t have to work until much later in the afternoon, but any excuse she could come up with to get away from her mother before she realized the truth was a good one. She glanced over her shoulder to Danny—who looked uncharacteristically rattled by the whole thing—before disappearing into her room.
