Pulling the ribbon of her nightdress, the oversized garment opened easily before his expert hands, baring her breasts to his hungry eyes. He kissed across the newly exposed mounds, circling evasively around each pink tip until she arched involuntarily under him, her soft moan the invitation he craved. Drawing the pebbled tip into his mouth, suckling her eagerly as his hand wandered to the curls between her legs, Gervase murmured against her breasts, “Do not ask me to stop, sweetling. Not tonight...”
Her delicate hands enfolded his face with gentleness.
“I've no longer the power to deny you, my lord.”
The words spilled from her lips in honest surrender, her want to be known by this man made plain. Her husband slowly removed the gown, then his own clothing, the faint moonlight casting silvery illumination enough to arouse her curiosity as she beheld his nakedness for the first time. His hands fondled her, his touch insistent and firm, yet tender, and Mariel came alive in his arms. Warmth spread through her, over her, in her, his caress lighting her skin aflame in its wake. His mouth wandered her body boldly, the blush of modesty adding to the fire in her veins. The new sensation of his touch on her most private flesh quieted her, her anxious cry prompting his hand to still. He did not abandon her, but waited for her to relax once again, only then resuming the slow strokes, stirring her passions to unimagined heights. Rough groans reverberated through her husband, their wild, untamed fervor oddly exciting.
This whirlwind of sensation captivated her completely. The rugged scrape of his cheek against her breasts, his calloused hands sliding over her thighs, his scent enveloping her – clinging to her – the sweetness of his lips covering hers, intoxicated her. She moaned softly, bringing him once again to her mouth, and in a fluid motion he covered her body with his, pressing her hips open with his own. The heavy weight of him satisfied an ache she could not identify, and she grasped his shoulders tightly, ragged breaths mingling with his between exploratory kisses. The probing presence between her thighs exacerbated a yearning thus far unknown to her, compelling her to rock against its hardness to relieve the want.
Her husband's response was immediate, his deep groan rolling through her as he clasped her hip and filled her, stunning her back to her senses in an instant. A pained cry tore from her lips, yet she clung to him in sweet surrender, his embrace the comfort she craved as his possession claimed her maidenhood.
“You belong to me now,” he murmured against her mouth, stealing her cry with his hungry mouth.
Gervase reveled in her body, aware as her rigid form slackened that the worst was over for her. Her body gripped him powerfully, hurtling him toward his release. Not resisting its call, he indulged what he had craved for so long. He plunged into his bride's body, pleasure heightening with each stroke within her, growling into her mouth. One hand cradled her head, the other her hip, and he buried himself deeply, filling her with his seed.
Her body cleaved to his, trembling in the aftermath of his first possession of her, and he caressed her face in a rare display of open affection, sliding from her body. Her blue eyes regarded him questioningly, and Gervase wondered how much she had known of what transpired between a man and woman before this night. He had no desire to leave her fearful of their next encounter, but offering words of comfort was a skill he lacked. Bed-play was an art he practiced with courtesans, knowledgeable of a man, expecting nothing more than a few hours of pleasure. This woman was different. He had not before taken innocence, and was wretchedly aware that he should have handled her with far greater gentleness. Tender awe welled in his heart for the woman in his arms.
A blush spread over her skin at his prolonged gaze, igniting his need to taste her purity again and kindling a long buried desire to be something other than Hell's Hound to someone. Feathering his lips across her delicate features, Gervase offered affection in the form of reverent exploration, smoothing over each curve and swell of her femininity, his mouth sampling her soft lips with sated wonder.
Mariel's hesitance at his renewed perusal began to fade under the gentle, yet insistent attentions, and Gervase groaned in a mixture of satisfaction and pleasure when at last her lips parted in willing participation. With deliberate patience, he ventured no further than kiss and caress without a sign of readiness from her. The welcome of her warm hands upon his back drawing him closer opened the floodgates of his passion. Deepening their kiss, he stroked lower down her abdomen, seeking her soft woman's flesh, finding it slick and swollen with arousal. Lazy sensual strokes preceded the moan escaping her, and she undulated against him, sending a flare of heat through his body. Desire coursed in his veins; its demand savage and sweet. Her roving hands created a thrum of rippling across his skin, her mewling cries of delight filling his ears and assuring him that she neared ultimate pleasure. The power of her climax intoxicated his senses, her body fully surrendering to his touch. Replacing his hand with his thickness, he eased inside her body inch by inch, groaning against the silken skin of her forehead. Buried to his hilt, Gervase stilled, his gaze trained upon her in search of any sign of reluctance. But he found her blue eyes returning his stare with...
Was it acceptance?
A strange and foreign desire took root in his mind, urging him to move within her languidly, to savor each glide of his length in her lush form between the sweet, lazy sips he stole from her mouth. When release sent his semen deep inside her, Gervase held his wife in close embrace. For the first time, the Baron of Ayleshind had taken a woman in more than simple carnality. He abandoned her body reluctantly and pulled her against his chest, allowing himself another first. He slept beside her.
* * *
Mariel awakened to discover herself alone in her bed, and she recalled her husband rising at daybreak and planting a kiss upon her head before stealing out quietly. She sighed, wishing to be once again in his arms. Memories of the previous night curled her lips in a delicious smile. Her life was turning out to be quite different from the terror she had imagined a couple months ago. She was happy. And after their coupling – that glorious, wonderful, confusing, event – she held hope that a deep regard was growing between them.
Edith arrived, laden with a pot of steaming tea.
“Good morning, my lady! Maude says you'd better drink this up; she brewed it special.”
The old woman had a gleam in her eyes, leaving Mariel to wonder if the delay of her deflowering was a well known fact, but she set the thought aside to take the offered cup.
“You relax a spell, lady. I'll have the bath hauled in while you stay abed.”
“Thank you, Edith. And please send Maude my thanks as well.”
Mariel felt certain that the older women were pampering her this morning, the why of it unclear until it hit her.
They were grown women, and knew that this was the first time Gervase remained with her the night. By the saints! The sheets! How would she explain the sheets?
The bath was hauled in, but she hardly noticed for the racing of her thoughts. Cheeks burning, Mariel realized another first. Beneath the covers, she was naked.
Voices at the door to the sitting room announced Elizabeth's presence.
“Good morning, Lady Mariel. I hope you do not mind my intrusion this dreary morn. I usually walk in the early hours before breaking my fast, but the soggy weather prevents any outdoor enjoyment. I've asked that refreshments be brought up. Do you mind terribly?”
Elizabeth Daltrey was bright and cheerful. She appeared so eager and friendly that Mariel could not justify turning her away.
“That will do nicely, Lady Elizabeth. But you must excuse me to bathe and dress...”
“Oh! Not at all!” she bustled over to the bed, snatching the blankets. “We're sisters now! This will give us privacy to talk without the servants nosing about.”
Before Mariel could react, stunned as she was, Elizabeth had ripped the coverlet from her hands, exposing her nakedness.
“Heaven's mercy, Lady Mariel!” Elizabeth gasped, staring at the love bites on her
breasts and thighs. “He was at you like...like an...”
Mariel summoned all the dignity she could muster, quickly pulling the sheets over the evidence that this had been the first time her husband had lain with her and donning her nightdress.
“It is all right, Lady Elizabeth,” she managed.
“Mariel! Sister! Dear thing! How you must suffer!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
Mariel stiffened, her blush as much from anger as modesty.
“You assume too much, Elizabeth! I am content to have my husband near.”
Elizabeth's pitying stare only unsettled her further.
“What a brave face you put on, sister,” she patronized, patting Mariel's arm. “The Baron will surely return to his mistress and leave you in peace once you produce the expected heir.”
“His mistress?” Mariel choked out. “I pray, do not say such a thing!”
Elizabeth stared at her incredulously.
“You cannot mean to say that you have an affection for the Baron!”
Gervase entered, striding across the room, anger evident on his face.
“Your husband is in search of you, Lady Elizabeth. I'll speak with my wife alone.”
Her dismissal announced, Elizabeth Daltrey curtsied and vacated the bedchamber, glancing back at Mariel with a fearful expression.
“My lord?” she whispered, unsure in the face of his displeasure.
She clutched the gown around her self-consciously, her nakedness beneath the thin material impressing a sense of vulnerability.
Closing the distance between them, Gervase claimed her mouth with brutal passion, his hands possessing her with equal vigor.
“Which is it, sweetling?” he rasped into her mouth. “Are you content – or merely brave?”
The seductive trail of his hands across her shoulders pushing the gown from her frame to pool on the floor rendered her speechless a moment. Realization struck her.
He had heard Elizabeth's words.
“I am both, my lord - content to have you near me, brave to stand before you as I do now.”
Gervase chuckled into her hair, anger at Lady Elizabeth's words dissolving as he scooped Mariel into his arms and deposited her near the bed's edge.
“Clever girl,” he murmured, stripping his boots and shirt as he admired her beauty.
Gervase stalked in predatory manner, circling until he enfolded her in his arms from behind. She was exquisite. Her breasts, softly rounded, rose and fell with her ragged breaths. Curving hips met graceful thighs at the juncture of her sex, hidden beneath the black, silken triangle. Gervase was going to enjoy his wife more than he had expected to.
She stood unmoving as he cast off his remaining clothing, and he then turned her, awaiting her reaction to the sight of his well endowed cock jutting from between his thighs. He was not disappointed. A satisfied smile played upon his lips before he reclaimed her mouth, his hands stroking her naked flesh expertly.
He knew he should be working, doing anything other than infecting himself further with her charms, but he was powerless to separate himself from her. Easing her against the bedding, he trailed his kisses lower, tasting and nipping his way to awaken her with his mouth.
“You mustn’t,” she begged at the realization of what he intended.
Her flushed cheeks, and her lips, swollen from his kisses, however, begged otherwise. Holding her firmly in his powerful grasp, he lowered his mouth to her, laving over her with his tongue. She gasped and squirmed, but he continued his sensual assault, sliding over the bud of her pleasure again and again. Her sweet nectar flowed, and he feasted as her desire blossomed under his hunger. Impassioned cries fueled his ardor, his response to push his finger insider her, wrenching a sob of pleasure from her.
“Mariel,” he hummed against her peaked pearl, “tell me you want more of what I offer.”
He stroked her with his finger as his mouth laved and lapped her sensitive flesh. Writhing against the friction of his mouth and hand, her answer was breathy and immediate.
“I want...more, my lord.”
“Even from the Hound of Hell, Mariel?”
“Yes!” she cried aloud.
“Then come for me, sweetling.”
He covered her with his mouth, sucking her erogenous flesh as his finger caressed her, tumbling her over the edge. Her hands tangled in his hair as she arched into him, waves of delight felt in her pulse around his finger.
He wished it to be around his length. That would come in time...
Lingering, placing gentle kisses along her inner thigh, he allowed her body to relax before easing his finger from her. As she regarded him, he sucked her essence from his flesh, drawing a look of wonder from Mariel, and eased up her body in a fluid motion. Her eyes were glazed with passion, and she welcomed his mouth upon her own. Gervase plundered her lips and neck, branding her anew with his love bite as he opened her thighs to nestle in her slick folds. Probing her entrance, he eased inside her. She cried out, yet tender from the night before, but his own groan of pleasure drowned its sound.
The small sob escaping her lips stilled Gervase, his hands cupping her face.
“Forgive me, sweetling. I should have allowed you to recover from last night before possessing you again.”
His tone carried the weight of remorse.
“But, my lord, I welcomed you,” she corrected him, eyes shining.
He lost himself in her eyes.
* * *
Mariel smoothed her hands over the snood that held her black curls in neat containment.
“I was just finishing my dress.”
Elizabeth entered, roaming the bedchamber as she prattled.
“Edmond and Baron Daltrey will no doubt be busy today, and my James is with his nurse. We'll have plenty of time to become well acquainted.”
The early morning's fiasco had not been mentioned, and Mariel offered a silent prayer of thanks. Her sister-in-law whirled around and paused to face Mariel.
“In all honesty, I never thought the Baron would marry. With his reputation and all, well...”
“His reputation...,” Mariel repeated, lingering on the words before continuing. “May I ask why you refer to your husband's brother so formally, Lady Elizabeth? Baron Daltrey is surely not how he is addressed among his family, is it?”
“Oh, but it is, Lady Mariel!” Elizabeth declared, eyes wide. “The Baron of Ayleshind has no family outside of my Edmond, and even he...Well, I'm certain I needn't tell you.”
Elizabeth cast a sympathetic glance toward her.
“And now he is your husband. How do you bear it? I'd be terrified! And that scar!” Elizabeth shuddered dramatically. “That reminder of his past must be frightening beyond imagination!”
Mariel's first instinct had been anger, but morbid curiosity shelved it deftly in favor of prying.
“Why should his scar frighten me? It is not as if it mars him in hideous fashion.”
The sympathy spread over Elizabeth's face more acutely.
“You poor dear! You don't know, do you? The Baron was engaged to be wed many years back. It was well before Edmond and I married. But the bride to be disappeared a week before the ceremony! Her body was never found, but her journal pages revealed any prospective bride's worst nightmare. It is said that, in her own hand, she claimed to be in fear for her life at the hands of her betrothed! Well! When the Baron of Ayleshind was arrested only a few days later, he bore that fearsome wound. He could offer no proper explanation as to how he had acquired it, or his whereabouts the night Lenore Wells disappeared. She must have fought him bravely before succumbing.”
Elizabeth finished the oft repeated tale with a horrific expression.
“But my lord was not imprisoned. How is this so?” Mariel questioned further.
“Such a naive girl! Really you are!” Elizabeth chided her in friendly warning. “Baron Daltrey has the vilest of souls in his power. He is in league with the devil himself!”
Her voice had hushed to a dramatic whisper as
her eyes darted about the chamber nervously. Mariel's heart raced at the frightening tale, even as her mind tried to apply logic and counter its disturbing haunt. Her unease was evident, for Elizabeth rushed to offer comfort.
“Lady! Forgive me for upsetting you so. I am truly sorry to have been the cause of your shock.”
Recovering, Mariel responded, determined to erase the dark foreboding that had crept into the room.
“Let us speak of it no longer. The past is gone, and rumor is just that – rumor.”
Mariel rose to lead them to the sitting area, away from Elizabeth's troubling revelation.
“Rest easy, Mariel. By the evidence, he'll have you breeding in no time. As soon as the Baron is assured that you carry his child, he will return to one of his harlots. For your sake and safety, I pray you bear a son quickly.”
Mariel felt ill. Was her husband kind to her only to attain an heir? Would he abandon her once she fulfilled her duty? And if she didn't, did she have cause to fear?
Before she could gather herself to reply, Elizabeth led her into the sitting chamber where Maude was setting out the refreshments, and excused herself to check on her son, James. Mariel, ashen faced, took the teacup in her shaking hand.
“Milady,” Maude gently stated, her eyes averted respectfully, “Do not give ear to that creature. I may be only a simple woman, but I know affection when my old eyes see it.”
Mariel looked to Maude as the robust woman turned to leave. Elizabeth would return shortly, and Mariel knew she must not indulge her sister-in-law's dire predictions. She realized, in her solitude, that her heart would break in two if it proved true. When Elizabeth returned, Mariel refused any openings for further talk on her marriage, hiding her fears in her heart to contemplate later. Instead, she steered conversation toward Elizabeth herself. The topic was not refused as Edmond's wife enjoyed that subject above all others, and Mariel was grateful when the afternoon meal was announced, for it promised a break from the tiresome task of entertaining Elizabeth Daltrey on her own.
Her Dark Baron Page 5
