by Lisa Torquay
He turned to her, to witness her fulminating the poor canopy. Her nearness produced the expected effect on him. Now it hit him he was lost! With child, she would probably not be able to receive his… attentions. Malediction! If he had to spend nine months without… Oh, hell! In no time, he would be at exploding point. He would… manage. Or die trying! His throat constricted with the prospect. Her womanly scent emanated to him, arousing. He remembered the past nights’ delights, unable to stop his body from reacting. He would be extremely… embarrassed if she…
To hide his very unmistakable state, he turned to the other side. At his spine, her warmth assailed him. Images of them in the height of passion incited his memory. His breath ragged, he made himself go still. Only, by now, his arousal hurt.
He turned on his back again. On the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her. Her indignation had abated, by the looks of it. The covers marked her full breasts rising and falling with her respiration. He should snuggle, should he not? This would not hurt her. Or the young life she sheltered. No! Touching her would come solely to calamity. Do not move! He ordered himself. For one thing, he did not move, but his flesh swelled. To busting point lot.
Ok, so he might turn to her, check on her, right? Yes, fine, no harm. He angled to her. Disaster. He extended his arm to cover her better at the same instant she turned to him, her fingers brushing his… Goddamn it!
His lungs took a deep breath. “Don’t mind me.” He said huskily.
“But…” She risked a protest.
“You have been keeping me hard for two years.” He hoped he sounded casual. “It’s nothing.”
She gaped at him lengthy. Her lips apart like this caused his blood to surge with the need to kiss her. His groins on fire, he pretended to be cool, calm and collected.
“I don’t understand.” Her surprise irrevocable. “You never…”
“I was a fool.” He confessed. “If I knew I had a she-wolf right under my roof, I'd have kept you in my bed every night, all night, all day.”
The flush on her cheeks denounced her reaction to his words. Her eyes widened, her lips parted. Devil carry him! She appeared to have gotten closer to him. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Damnation! This was barely the first night of torture!
A swish of cloth under the covers, more precisely around his waist. His sash undone. He reached to fix it and encountered the cause: her exploring hand. They looked at each other in the intimate fire light. The rosewood pair of hers held a naughty glint in them. She was up to no good. Her hand continued its trajectory, sneaking in the cloth. It encompassed him, warm, firm, eager.
God!
“Aurelia.” He breathed in despair. “We cannot… you… Oh!” She advanced her caress; his eyes fell shut with a groan.
“We positively can.” Her merciless hand gave attention to all of him. He would have to go to his dressing room and… He sighed with her progressively more daring ministrations.
“How can you be so sure?” He could barely ask.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw she cradled him, he half over her. How did that happen, for pity’s sake?
“The tenants’ wives talk quite much when at work.” She furthered her torment of him.
“They do, don’t they.” His voice almost disappeared. Good, because he was capable of hold it back no longer.
As she pulled him, he glided in her; the world disappeared for them.
Conrad awoke in a cloud of fulfilment. He lay on his back, as Aurelia’s head rested on his shoulder. He smiled to himself. From now on, he would wake up by her side every morning; he would certify himself of it.
His wife rolled to her back, opening her eyes. The first lights of morning shed a grey hue through the curtains.
“Good morning.” He turned to her, enjoying her somnolent face. “Are you well?”
She stole a glance at him. “Good morning.” She devolved. “As usual, thank you.”
Her hair spread all over the pillow, a study in lasciviousness. Impulsively, he sneaked under the covers, reposing his face on her bare middle. Somehow, during the night, they got rid of clothing as he sought her again.
“Good morning, little one.” He murmured to her velvety skin.
“What are you doing?” Her sleepy voice reached him.
“Greeting our son or daughter.” He said matter-of-factly. His stubble mouth surrounded her navel.
She made a dubious sound, between gasp and something he did not identify. He repeated his caress.
“It tickles!” She laughed then. Laughed. Goodness gracious, he had never seen her laugh!
In a quick movement, he ousted from under the cover to regard her face. It blushed, a remnant of laughter still. He uncovered her middle, lowered his head and did it again, but this time he did not divert his gaze from hers. She laughed louder, a delicious flowing sound. He grazed her belly in a broader circle. Laughter pealed once more from her. This time, her fingers immersed in his tousled midnight hair.
He lifted his head and fixed his dark eyes on her, wishing he were a painter to immortalise this instant for eternity. She held his eyes, a twinkle remaining from her giggle.
“You are devastatingly beautiful when you laugh.” His throat constricted with something very kin to… exhilaration.
“Thank you.” She answered abashed.
“That is,” he corrected himself. “You are the most stunning woman in the world. But when you smile, I don’t stand a chance!” He did not take his eyes from her.
She lowered her rosewood eyes. “You are making me shy now.” She glimpsed him. “I am just as usual as anyone else.”
“No, you’re wrong. I remembered your adorableness every day in India.” He confessed much to his surprise.
“So you maintain you were chaste all this time?”
He lifted his body to her level, his hands held her cheeks; he eyed her serious. “Yes.” He nodded.
They stayed looking at each other for long instants. At last, he fell on his pillow, one arm on his brow.
“I needed to change my nefarious habits.”
She turned her head towards him, but said nothing.
“I began to dislike the man I had become.” This unexpected confession relieved him. “I came to an acute compulsion for getting my act together. I was going nowhere, doing nothing with my life. That’s why I travelled to India.” His attention sought her. She listened intent on him. “I reckoned a different environment would do me good.”
“Did it?” She coaxed him.
He nodded curt. “Absolutely. Tough life, tough weather. Disease and unrest everywhere.” His features acquired a perturbed expression; it softened in a blink. “Also a colourful culture, impressive temples, fascinating sounds, tastes, smell. The whole of it sobered me.” He drew in a heavy breath. “Many things started hitting me. Things I would never have contemplated were I not oceans away.”
When he turned to her again, her expression had a quizzical quality to it. He could not read her thoughts. She seemed to have really listened to him though.
Silence stretched comfortable. He wished she said something, expected her to do it. But she abstained for reasons of her own.
“I’ll go ring for a cup of tea.” She said at last, putting on her camisole.
“I’ll tell Drury and Abigail not to disturb if we do not call.” He told her before she walked through the connecting door.
Chapter Twelve
“Conrad!” Bennett Warndale, his brother, came to greet him, as he entered the study.
“Bennett. That’s a surprise.” Conrad greeted back, enthusiastically.
Bennett and his wife, Ethel lived in London. Even though both he and his brother had attended Eton, his brother embraced law at Oxford, while he, Conrad, dropped out of the institution for indiscipline. His brother had built a solid career as an attorney at The Royal Court of Justice.
“I heard you’re back only recently.” He patted his brother’s shoulders cheerfully.
“Did E
thel come with you?” He patted his brother back.
This visit, unexpected as it was, did not displease him. He and Bennett had been close for all their childhood years. They grew apart as Conrad started going around with the wrong crowd. Since the death of their parents and Conrad’s marriage, they did not see much of each other. Bennett had established himself in London and Conrad remained mostly in the country, where his debauching ways did not attract much attention.
Their parents passed away within one year of each other. First his mother and, just after Conrad had gotten engaged, his father. This constituted another source of regret for him as he learned his parents fretted about him and his erratic behaviour.
“Unfortunately not. She stayed in town to look after our little Harriet.” Conrad had received news of the birth of his niece about a year ago.
“How are they?” He asked, regretting having not even visited his new niece.
“As well as they can be.” Conrad gestured to the sofa and they sat, facing each other. “And you, older brother, what news do you bring from the faraway lands?”
“Not much more than you already read in the papers.” He smiled faintly. “Although they cannot convey the blasting heat of the weather.”
“Not for the likes of me, I should admit.” In his slow, peaceful personality, his brother did not have it in him to adventure overseas.
“A lesson in adaptation, no doubt.”
Bennett and he exchanged a glance full of meaning. Together now, the years apart faded away. An intense sense of rekindling assailed him. He wished they were still children, so he would hold his brother spontaneously.
“The estate appears to be in excellent conditions.” Bennett commented. “How did you manage that, being away?”
“Oh, not my doing. You should praise my wife for that.” She deserved several tons of praise, for certain.
“Indeed?” He crossed his legs. “And here I was thinking I should have checked on her these past years.”
“Immaterial, as you can see. She did very well on her own.” He did not bother to disguise his admiration for her.
Conrad reckoned it too early to disclose her condition, too.
“She must be alleviated you’re back to handle things now.”
“To tell the truth, she was alleviated I was not here at all.” He conceded, raking his midnight hair with his hand.
“That bad, huh?”
“A man harvests what he sows, I suppose.”
“She’ll come about, surely.” His brother tried to lighten him.
“Easier said.” He answered simply.
“Oh dear!” His brother interjected. Conrad must have revealed something in his expression because his brother lifted his brows quizzically. “Don’t tell me you developed a kind of… attachment to her?”
At this, Conrad sprang from the sofa and walked to the window. Answer enough to his perceptive brother. “Poor older brother!”
“Life couldn’t be more ironic if it tried.” Conrad conjectured to the window, contemplating it had been she who had been infatuated with him in those years. Now, she only held her distance.
“Can’t disagree with you there.”
Conrad shrugged; lamenting would not be of any use. “Fancy a walk around to see the changes?”
“It would do me well, since I sat in a carriage for hours.” They left the study in the direction of the orchard.
Aurelia came home for luncheon to receive news her brother-in-law arrived for a visit. And to find Madame Tourneau awaiting her with a myriad of plates, fabrics, ready attires and other paraphernalia of a modiste.
She had completely forgotten Conrad had made the appointment with the Madame. Her morning passed in a blur. The night in his bed had been a guilty delight, to say the least. Although the early morning part had shaken her to her core.
First, his tenderness in greeting their child in such a warm way almost smelted her to disintegration. She had never thought she would laugh in his presence in that abandoned form. Much less that her throat would clog with overwhelming emotion at the same time. Her guts turned all knotted and rumpled with that. A wave of sympathy invaded her, which clashed resonantly with her long acquired suspiciousness of him. The duality rendered her overwhelmed.
His revelation about his time away, and the lessons it had taught him came next. She listened to it studiously. His stance so truthful as if he made a confession. She started to understand many things about the reasons he left and his return. His admission he had wanted her during that time made her hot entirely. Who was that man, for heaven’s sake? She did not know what to think anymore! Each time, each night, her defences crumbling in enormous chunks around her, as a castle wall bombarded with catapults. She did not want to surrender. Not to him, not to what he represented. On mornings like that one, the flood of warmth became virtually impossible to ignore.
She summoned Madame Tourneau to her dressing room. She would acquiesce only to a few dresses, so Conrad would stop insisting on such things. Clothing she would not wear in her daily dealings in the estate were superfluous and foolish. She did not do foolish anymore!
Days later “foolish” would lose its meaning completely at the number of boxes which arrived to her chamber and the delicate pieces they contained. Conrad had splurged, damn him! He had sent order for the modiste to use her measurements to make tons more than what she had agreed on for herself. This was not very practical. Her shape would modify soon, given her condition. Unpractical actions did not list among her favourites any longer!
When Aurelia reached the dining room, both men had already taken their places. A estate matter had delayed her and she ran late.
“I am sorry, I am late.” She sat at the other end of the table as the custom when they had guests. “An urgent matter demanded my attention.”
She dressed one of her new dresses, suggested by Abigail. A dark-green model, with a too low neckline for her taste. Madame convinced her it was the rage in London. She did not resist wrapping a shawl around her shoulders for modesty’s sake.
“Do not worry, Lady Strafford.” Bennett interposed. “We have just sat.” He smiled friendly.
A glimpse at Conrad and she realised he eyed her fixedly as if he could not take his dark eyes from her. In a rushed movement, she lowered her lashes, blushing.
“Oh, please. We are family, call me Aurelia.” She said to Bennett searching to disguise her reaction.
Bennett observed both alternately, a secret smile behind his napkin. Not all was lost, he fathomed.
“I hear you supervised the lands while Conrad was away.” He commented.
“Yes, I did.” She admitted humbly. “There was nobody else to undertake the task.”
“Impeccable accomplishment, as I witnessed myself.” He bowed his head gentlemanly.
She smiled grateful. “Thank you.”
She dabbed her mouth with the napkin aa Conrad’s gaze lower to it. A flock of butterflies flew in her middle.
“How are your wife and daughter?” She tried to dispel the nasty effect her husband caused on her. Unsurprisingly unsuccessful.
Again, Bennett’s sharp perception caught the exchange. Her brother-in-law proceeded to descant on his happy family life.
They had a veritably congenial dinner with Bennett as he amused Viscount and Viscountess Strafford with stories of his daughter and anecdotes of his work. He was three years younger than Conrad was, not so tall, but rather affable. He had married Ethel two years ago. Aurelia and he had met at her wedding and few times after that since he lived in London and she rarely travelled to town. Sometimes she wondered if she should not have chosen a man like him, steady, balanced and dutiful, she remembered as she strolled in the darkened garden. She would have been much happier.
Conrad and his brother retired to the study after dinner, so that Bennett could have his cigar and brandy. Things her husband did not do anymore, as he himself told his brother. She decided for a stroll out to enjoy the pleasant spring night.
>
“Aurelia.” His deep voice echoed in the night.
She turned to the direction of the manor and devised his shadow moving out of the candle lights’ radius. “I am here.” She signalised.
His feet approached in the exact moment a cloud fluttered to unveil the full moon. She would never cease to hanker him, she realised dispirited. He dressed black trousers, white shirt and a black dinner jacket that emphasised his broad shoulders and his tallness. As always, the memories of their encounters surged in her mind, together with the yearning of him.
“Hughes said you were in the garden.” He stopped a few feet from her. She sensed his spicy scent and the warmth of his body.
“Yes, I came for fresh air before I retire.” She lifted her wide eyes to his dark ones, the fresh breeze ruffling his midnight wavy hair, bluish under the moonlight.
He raised his hands and removed her shawl from her shoulders. “You look beautiful!” He said husky.
Goose bumps sowed all over her. “I… thank you.” She tried for a deep breath. “You ordered far too many clothes, I reckon.”
“I wanted your exquisiteness done justice to at last.” His fingers closed around her neck, descending in a tender caress which left her eager for more.
“But the child will change my body in a few months.” His fingers reached her collarbone, her lashes weighed down, as her neck bent towards his hand.
“So, I’ll enjoy the view of you till it happens.” His thumb moved back and forth temptingly. “Then I’ll enjoy the view of you growing with my seed.”
Blaze zinged through her with his earthy comment. She turned to a pudding with that simple caress and his husky voice. His strong arm pulled her to him, the rocky ridge of him on her stomach. Her breath caught while he bent to her.
“God! I always promise myself I will not come on to you as a bird of prey.” He murmured while his thin sensuous mouth reached her neck. “I can never hold back!” He grazed her neck open mouthed, his stubble and his hot breath sending her to the blazes.
