Wonderful

by Cheryl Holt

  She should have protested, but she didn’t, and before she realized what the result would be, she was naked. The entire episode was escalating out of her control. She didn’t know how to stop it, and she didn’t exactly want to stop it.

  She understood that men and women performed salacious acts when they were in a bed. In his elevated world, there was a different standard as to what was allowed and what wasn’t. She was anxious to prove she could belong in that world.

  He’d taught her some of the behaviors he enjoyed, and there were others that hadn’t been explained or described. Apparently, that’s what he was intending—to go farther than they had prior. He was honorable and wouldn’t push her into immoral conduct. It would be her choice, and if they proceeded to decadence, she was certain it would draw them closer.

  He abandoned her lips and nibbled a trail down her neck, her chest, to her breasts. He kissed them, biting and massaging, sucking on the nipples. The sensations he evoked were sinfully delicious and, rapidly, she was goaded beyond her limit.

  As he reached down and touched her between her legs, she suffered an exhilarating tremor of ecstasy. He’d previously spurred her to a similar reaction when down on the sofa in the music room, but this one was much more potent. She cried out with amazement, with a blinding sort of terror, as she seemed to soar through the sky and float back down.

  He was grinning, preening, his masculine pride on full display as he murmured, “You are such a gem.”

  “I am? What type of gem? A diamond? A ruby?”

  He thought about it, then said, “A beautiful blue sapphire that is the precise color of your eyes.”

  “If you keep spewing compliments like that, I’ll get a big head.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  They smiled, a poignant silence growing. She was dying to ask him if they would marry now, but she’d raised the issue once before and had bungled it. He was the man. He had to propose, and she was positive that was his plan. If it wasn’t, why was he in her bed when she wasn’t wearing any clothes?

  “I need you to do something for me,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s more to this than what we’ve shared.”

  “What more?”

  “Well”—his cheeks flushed—“you just experienced a wave of passion, and the same kind of thing can happen to me.”

  “It can?” She was such a naïve ninny that the prospect hadn’t occurred to her. “Can I make it transpire? Tell me what to do.”

  “It’s easier if I show you.”

  “All right.” But he didn’t move. He continued to stare, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I…want to engage in marital behavior. It’s what a husband and wife would do. I’d join my body to yours. Here.”

  He cupped his palm at the vee of her thighs, at the entrance to her woman’s sheath.

  She frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “That’s why it’s easier to show you.”

  “We’re not husband and wife though, so how could we?”

  “It’s just physical conduct. You don’t have to be wed to accomplish it.”

  “But,” she countered, “you’re supposed to be wed.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what the preachers claim.”

  “You disagree?”

  “It’s simply pleasure. There’s no sin or damnation attached to it.”

  She gazed at him, and she was so perplexed!

  While she didn’t grasp the technicalities, she recognized that he was expecting her to surrender her virginity. It was a bride’s role on her wedding night. It wasn’t ever what a female would contemplate during a quick tumble with a libertine, and she viewed him as being such a stellar person.

  If he was truly requesting she perform the ultimate carnal act, what was she to think?

  She couldn’t imagine refusing him, and if they proceeded, they’d have to marry. Wouldn’t they? The law demanded it. The Church required it. Societal rules wouldn’t allow for any other ending.

  “If I say yes,” she hesitantly started, “there’s no going back.”

  “No.”

  “I wouldn’t be a maiden anymore.”

  “No,” he said again, “but Evangeline, you’re such a wildly sexual creature. You’ll be better off for having done this with me, and I’m desperate to know you this way.”

  His use of the word desperate made her realize she should consent. Hadn’t she felt that everything between them was a tad desperate from the moment he’d lain down?

  “We’d have to marry afterward.” She watched his eyes, searching for prevarication. “We’d have to be together forever.”

  “Of course we will be.”

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear.”

  She kept watching him, but he didn’t give the slightest indication of dishonesty. He looked resolute, determined, and—dare she say it?—madly in love with her. She was being pelted by his affection, showered with it, deluged by it.

  “Let me,” he whispered.

  “I don’t know…” she whispered in reply. “I’m so confused.”

  “Don’t be confused. I love you!” he suddenly, fervidly announced.

  “I love you too,” she responded, more delighted than she’d ever been. How could she deny him? Why vacillate a single second?

  “Tell me it’s for the best,” she urged.

  “Yes, my darling, Evangeline. It is absolutely for the best.”

  She studied him again, still torn and conflicted, but he looked so happy! She couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

  Finally, she said, “I believe you, Aaron. Show me how it can be between us.”

  * * * *

  Aaron sat back on his knees and drew off his shirt.

  His heart was hammering in his chest, thundering so violently it might simply burst through his ribs.

  He loved her! He’d said it out loud! What had come over him?

  She loved him too, and with their mutual declarations on the table, he couldn’t decide if it improved matters or not. What benefit was there in professing deep fondness? It didn’t change anything. It didn’t fix any of their problems.

  Still, he felt grand. He felt like he was king of the world, like a god that walked on water. If he lived to be a hundred, he didn’t suppose he’d ever enjoy a moment quite so much.

  He lie down, his chest crushed to her own, and as they connected for the first time—bare skin to bare skin—they both hissed with pleasure. The air sizzled, the temperature of the room rising by a good twenty degrees.

  He was behaving very badly, and he’d had too much to drink, so he wasn’t thinking clearly. He should have been proving how much he respected and cherished her, but instead he was deceiving her, pressuring her to give him what he craved, and she was so besotted that she’d agreed.

  She couldn’t truly understand what she’d offered until it was over, and by then, it would be too late. But once she was his, the future would be set for both of them.

  He couldn’t marry her, but he could keep her with him forever, the trick being to persuade her. He had to convince her to stay by his side—unwed but together—and to accept his vision as to how that could be accomplished.

  He had two weeks, and with her breaking off her engagement, she had no ties to bind her, no family to protest an affair. There was no reason to decline, and their fornication would seal her fate. She would belong to him, and he wouldn’t listen to any further nonsense.

  Events were barreling toward them, so he didn’t have time to dawdle or seduce. They would spend every second of the next fourteen days in her bedchamber. They would love and tease and play, and when he had to depart for London, she would have no option but to remain with him.

  If he was lucky, she might even wind up pregnant with his child, and there was no more weighty fetter with which he could shackle her. He’d always told himself he was honorable and decent, but unless he took drastic measures to stop her
, she might slip through his grasp.

  His scheme was dastardly. It was cruel and despicable and shameful, but he would proceed anyway. In the end, she’d recognize that it was for the best.

  He started kissing her again, quickly and easily driving her up the spiral of desire. She was so eager, so attuned to his every touch. With a few laves of his tongue across her nipple, a few flicks of his thumb down below, she soared to the heavens again.

  As her orgasm exploded, as it peaked and waned, she was laughing, merry, sputtering with amazement and delight.

  Don’t do it! Don’t hurt her like this! Yet he was too intent on ensnaring her so she could never leave.

  “What are you thinking about?” she inquired, noting his confusion, his doubt.

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “You oaf. I’m the happiest woman in the whole world.”

  “I’d hate to have you regret this later on.”

  “Regret it?” She scowled. “I never could.”

  “I’m doing this for us—so we’ll always be together.”

  “Yes, together forever,” she agreed, but her definition and his definition of being together were two completely different things.

  The life he planned for them—the cozy house, the rambunctious children running in the halls, the quiet nights reading by the fire, the slow glide into their elder years—would be exactly what they could have had through marriage.

  The only item missing would be the official license, and with so much contentment at stake, a license was a foolish impediment.

  He gripped her thighs, wedging his torso in between. He loosened his trousers, yanked them down, then he inserted the tip of his cock in her sheath. She inhaled a sharp breath, her eyes widening with alarm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to attach our bodies, remember?”

  “Yes, but I told you I don’t know what that means.”

  “We’re built differently—in our private parts.”

  “I see…” she mumbled, but clearly she didn’t.

  “It will be over in a minute. Try to relax.”

  “If I can, I will. It just feels…strange.”

  “It always is the first time.”

  He kissed her, toying with her nipples, distracting her as he flexed with his hips. But as she’d mentioned, the episode was too peculiar, and she was too unschooled as to the mechanics.

  He’d never been so aroused and couldn’t delay to let her acclimate, to let her accept what was coming. He raised her hips to his loins and thrust inside. There was a tear, the rush of her virgin’s blood. He held himself very still.

  “Is that it?” she asked. “Are we finished?”

  “No, there’s a bit more.”

  “Will it take long?”

  “No.”

  She was gazing at him, her uncertainty evident, but her love and affection were shining through.

  “Does it hurt?” he inquired.

  “A little.”

  “It will fade.”

  “It already is.”

  Gradually, her bodily tension lessened, and he started to flex.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Move with me.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  He’d wanted her for too long and was far past the edge of sanity. He couldn’t temper the pace, couldn’t delay the conclusion. But then he had all night to do it again. He had the next two weeks, and the next year, and the rest of their lives.

  He gave a handful of fierce thrusts, and his seed swelled to his loins and burst into her womb in a passionate wave that went on and on until he began to doubt he’d ever get to the end.

  Finally, the last drop was spent, and he collapsed onto her. He tried to muster some remorse for his pushing ahead, but he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. He’d pressed the issue, had abused her trusting nature, but she would be his forevermore.

  He slid away, and she rolled with him so they were nose to nose. They were grinning, ecstatic, thrilled with what they’d perpetrated.

  “What did you think?” he asked.

  “I’m not a…a…”

  “No, you’re not.”

  A tiny twinge of conscience pricked him. She was such an innocent, she couldn’t even verbalize the word virgin, but he tamped down any regret, refusing to focus on the negative.

  Everything was perfect now! Perfect!

  “It gets better,” he said.

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “It won’t hurt ever again either.”

  “It didn’t hurt much this time.”

  “From here on out, it will always be marvelous.”

  “Good.”

  “It will last longer too. You’ve had me so titillated I couldn’t restrain myself.”

  “I had you titillated?”

  “Yes, you vixen, but now we’ll be able to slow down and become familiar with one another.”

  “Husbands and wives, they do this often?”

  “Some often, some not, but yes, it’s the marital behavior that’s kept such a secret from you females. With you being the weaker sex, people are afraid you’d swoon if you knew what was required.”

  “It’s more physical than I thought it would be.”

  “Yes, that’s why I couldn’t explain it.”

  She chuckled. “I wouldn’t have believed you. It would have sounded too farfetched.”

  They both sighed, and he turned her and spooned himself to her back. His cock stirred, eager to start in again, and he smiled.

  She noticed right away. “You’re smiling. Why?”

  “I’m happy.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’m so enticed by you, my body is already anxious to try it again.”

  “Is that common?”

  “Not usually. It’s a sign of how much I adore you.”

  At the compliment, she nestled closer and gave a very unladylike yawn.

  “I’m so tired all of a sudden,” she said.

  “Carnal conduct can be exhausting.”

  “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  “Doze off. I don’t mind.”

  “You can’t doze with me though. If the maids caught you in here in the morning, I’d die of embarrassment.”

  “I’ll snuggle with you until you fall asleep. Then I’ll go.”

  They were quiet, the room cooling, her respiration slowing.

  “This fixed everything, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll always be together?”

  “Always, Evangeline. We will always be together. I swear it to you.”

  “I’m so glad,” she murmured, and she plunged into a deep slumber. He lay with her, imprinting every detail into his memory so he’d never forget.

  It was their wedding night of sorts, the night she’d given herself to him, the night that would set the tone for the remainder of their life, and he had to remember it all, her scent, her warmth, her size.

  When he began drifting off too, he forced himself to slip away. He stood next to the bed, straightening his trousers, tugging on his shirt. He glanced down at his feet and shook his head with chagrin.

  He’d been so intent on deflowering her that he hadn’t paused to remove his boots. He’d been in that big of a hurry, was that smitten, and he was liking the idea of forever more and more. Their relationship would only improve from this point on.

  He spun and tiptoed out—while he had the fortitude to make himself go.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Evangeline was seated at the writing desk in the front parlor. It was situated by a window and provided a view of the park and the lane that led out to the main road.

  The butler had mentioned that a housemaid was headed to the village and would be taking the mail with her, so Evangeline had hurried to draft yet another letter to Rose. A few days earlier, Evangeline had written to inform Rose that Evangeline would be leaving Fox Run
and would travel to the Summerfield estate where Rose was living with her new husband, James Talbot.

  At least, Evangeline thought Mr. Talbot was Rose’s husband. Rose hadn’t answered Evangeline’s increasingly frantic messages, so any debacle could have occurred.

  Except now, Evangeline was telling Rose she wasn’t departing after all. Her cheeks flushing, she recalled the previous evening, how she and Aaron had sealed their future by getting a jump on their wedding night.

  She supposed she shouldn’t have agreed—every female knew to have a ring on her finger first—but she’d been so overwhelmed. Afterward, he’d been so pleased! He’d said he loved her! He’d announced it with no hesitation or restraint. And she’d told him the same, that she loved him with all her heart.

  It was interesting how those simple words could change everything. The morning was so beautiful, the sky so blue, the grass so green. Her smile was so wide her face hurt, but her emotions were jumbled, and she wanted to laugh and weep at the same time.

  Though he had portrayed their behavior merely as physical conduct, it had altered her in ways she hadn’t expected. She felt raw and exposed, ragged with sentiment she didn’t understand.

  Her letter finished, she placed it on the table by the door in the foyer. Then she went back to the parlor and sat on the small sofa. She stared outside, wondering what to do with herself.

  While eating breakfast, she’d heard the servants whispering that Aaron was off handling some business. Bryce was with him, and they wouldn’t be back for hours. Initially, the news had irked her, but she’d shaken off her aggravation. Like a silly ninny, she’d jumped out of bed and raced downstairs, hoping Aaron would be pacing, waiting with bated breath for her to appear.

  But he had a busy life and an estate to run, and his world wouldn’t suddenly revolve around her. Yet how could he focus on business?

  She couldn’t concentrate at all. She was so fidgety, so restless. Fleetingly, she considered walking into the village too. She could stop by the vicarage and talk to Vicar Bosworth. He’d sent a note, asking after her health, and his courtesy made her ashamed. She had to break it off, but she was too agitated to think rationally.