So he was entirely shocked when Emily opened the door, quickly stepped in, and then closed the door behind her.
James blinked. At first, he thought he might be dreaming, for her dark hair was no longer pinned up but flowing freely. It did so over a gown the likes of which he had never seen before—not even on his mistress.
The fabric, shiny and ivory in color, clung to her curves and outlined the fronts of her thighs. It might have also displayed the swell of her hips, but a dressing gown of the same fabric hung from her shoulders and hid them.
Just below the hemline, two puffs of fur appeared, apparently the tops of her bedroom slippers.
“I thought a gentleman was expected to stand up when a lady entered a room,” she whispered.
Jame swallowed and set the book on the nightstand. “I thought so, too, but I’m not sure if he can still be considered a gentleman if all he is wearing are bed linens.”
He watched as Emily instantly changed from seductress to the woman he had spent the day with. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she tittered.
“Wherever did you get that gown?” he asked, his gaze once again taking her in from head to toe.
“Suzanne’s in Oxford Street,” she replied. “It’s French.”
James gave an approving nod. “Now I’m rather sorry I cursed them earlier today,” he replied, sounding a bit breathless. He sat up straighter on the bed. “Are those the rabbits you mentioned earlier?” he asked, pointing to the slippers she wore.
Emily looked down at her slippers as if seeing them for the first time. “Oh, dear. Do you suppose that’s why they weren’t in the gardens earlier this evening?”
He quirked a brow. “I suppose I shouldn’t assume why it is you have come here this time of the night,” he said. Then his eyes widened. Perhaps she was merely there to see to it he was comfortable, although she hadn’t done so any of the other nights he had stayed at Woodscastle. “Or do you always wear such a gown to bed?”
Emily finally stepped farther into the room, her attention going to the book on the nightstand. “I don’t. At least, I never have before.”
For a moment, James thrilled at the thought that his brother had never seen her like this. “That’s a relief.”
“I thought you wanted to learn the shape of my bum,” she said as she lifted a hip, bent her leg slightly, and settled on the edge of the bed. She left her other foot pressed firmly on the carpeted floor.
James swallowed. “I most certainly do. Among other things.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good, because I nearly turned around and went back to my bedchamber three times whilst on the way here,” she replied. “Have I shocked you?”
Allowing a guffaw, James said, “Thoroughly, but I rather doubt it’s the last time you’re going to do it on this day.”
Emily gave him a quelling glance. “You’re not having second thoughts about marrying me, are you?”
He shook his head. “If I’d had any, they most assuredly would have flown out the window when you appeared at the door,” he murmured. “For a moment, I thought I was dreaming, or else I had died and you were the angel that appeared to take me to heaven.”
Her eyes darted to one side, as if she were trying to decide if what he described was a welcome scenario or a frightening one. When she noticed how the corners of his lips lifted, she said, “Oh, well that’s a relief.” She sighed. “Tomorrow is Sunday, and since you don’t have to go to the bank, I thought tonight would be a good night for you to... to teach me how to make love to you.”
If he hadn’t learned so much about her this past week, James might have been further shocked at hearing her comment. Instead, he felt relief at not having to be the one to bring up what could be an awkward situation on their wedding night. Especially considering she had lain with his brother.
He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his, the edge of the bed linens falling from his chest. “Will you then teach me how to make love to you?”
Her eyes widened at seeing the exposed expanse of his chest. Whorls of dark, crisp curls covered most of it. “I was rather hoping you might already know,” she whispered.
“Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said as he tugged her hand.
She leaned toward him, but took a moment to shed the satin dressing gown. Before she could do anything else, his hands had moved to her hips to pull her atop him.
Emily inhaled as she felt his hands smooth over the sides of her satin-clad body and down and around the globes of her bottom. She felt the vibration of his growl through the bed linens that still separated their bodies. “Does that mean you like the shape of my bum?” she asked in a whisper.
The vibration beneath her increased, and a chuckle sounded before James moved his hands to cup her face. “Very much,” he murmured. His lips took hers in a kiss of passion.
Emily expected he might take her as Henry had always done. With Henry, there had hardly been a warning of what he intended to do. No preparation. No foreplay. Just a few kisses. He hadn’t even undressed her completely those three times, claiming he could wait for that until after the wedding.
So she was surprised when James finished a kiss and then pulled the bed linens aside so she could settle onto the bed. When one of his hands smoothed over her shoulder to push down the sleeve of her gown and then cup her breast, she inhaled softly. The circular motions of his thumb were replaced with his lips, and she reveled in the sensations his tongue created. A moment later, and he treated her other breast to the same pleasure.
“What do I do?” she asked in a whisper interrupted by a slight gasp. One of his hands had smoothed down her side to grasp the hem of her nightgown, and now it was moving back up her thigh.
“Allow me to remove your gown,” he replied, his whisper hoarse. “I don’t want to tear it since I rather adore you in it.”
The thought that he might rip the gown from her body brought as much excitement as whatever it was his hand had been doing between her thighs only the moment before. “Of course,” she agreed as she struggled to sit up.
He helped in divesting her of the satin, the gown tossed onto the puddle of the matching dressing gown already on the floor by the side of the bed.
Emily marveled at how carefully he held her. At how the pads of his fingers barely touched her skin as his hand once again made its way, this time down the front of her body.
When it reached her mons, she parted her legs and inhaled sharply when she felt a finger invade her most private place. Slick from her honeyed folds, his thumb pressed against her womanhood, rubbed around it, and flicked over it. She gasped and struggled to remain quiet as one of her hands pressed against his chest for support.
James leaned over her and took her lips once more. This time, he barely pressed his to hers. When he pulled away slightly, it was to ask if she wanted him to continue.
“Yes,” she managed between labored breaths.
“You needn’t be so quiet,” he whispered, aware from the way her chest pressed into his that she was nearing her ecstasy.
A mewl sounded from her throat.
“More?” he asked, pressing just a bit harder until he felt her entire body lift from the bed. Her mewling increased, her breathing ceased, and her neck arched back.
His lips sought the hollow of her exposed throat, his tongue delving into it as he flicked his thumb over her swollen nub.
The cry she let out excited him, and James quickly moved atop her. He kissed her lips and then reached down to lift her knees—she had already spread her legs wider in anticipation of what was to come.
Her knees gripped his thighs as his turgid manhood entered her, bit by bit, as her hands skimmed down the sides of his body to his hips. She pulled him in farther, a move that surprised James and only reminded him that she had done this before. He gave into her pull, growling when the base of his manhood collided with her quim.
Deep inside her, his manhood throbbed with need, but he was
determined to regain some semblance of control. “Am I hurting you?” he managed to get out, aware of how her body trembled beneath his.
“No,” she replied on a breath. “Please don’t stop.”
Stop?
It was far too late for that, and he was about to tell her so, but he couldn’t waste his breath on words. Not when his entire body begged for what was to come.
James kissed her once more and then pulled out of her—almost all the way. When she mewled in protest, he pushed back into her.
Emily understood what to do, her hips meeting his with the thrust. But this was nothing like what Henry had done with her. While Henry had been somewhat careful at first, his motions had quickly turned chaotic, hard to follow. He had cursed and grunted, and never once had he paused to ask if she was in pain.
With each of James’ early thrusts had come a moment when he paused to either kiss her lips or a nipple, or to murmur how beautiful she looked. And then, when the rhythm was established and his movements had quickened, he could only kiss or suckle one of her breasts.
Emily reveled in watching his powerful body above hers. Reveled in watching how his arm muscles bunched with each thrust. Reveled in seeing the cords of his neck strain when he lifted his head and suppressed a groan. Reveled in how one of the hands he’d been using to hold himself over her reached down between them to where they were joined and set off a wave of pleasure in her unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
Her cry came just before James’ growl, just before his entire body seized and remained suspended over hers.
Her fingers gripped his back as she pulled up to meet him, her back arched so her breasts could press into his chest as wave after wave of pleasure crested and broke inside.
When James collapsed onto her, she wrapped her arms around his back and held on, afraid he might roll off of her. She needed his solidity, though. Needed an anchor to hold onto lest she be swept away.
At some point, she remembered to breathe. Remembered where she had left her arms and legs. Smoothed her hands up and down his back. Mewled her satisfaction.
His head buried in the space between her neck and shoulder, James napped for a time atop her soft body. He didn’t awake with a start or wonder where he was. The sensation of her fingertips sliding up and down his back brought him out of his brief slumber, and he allowed a sigh that had his warm breath washing over her neck.
Emily turned her head and placed a kiss on his forehead as one of her fingertips raked through his hair. She felt his entire body shudder at the touch, and she kissed him again.
“I think I shall enjoy being married to you,” he said on a sigh.
Emily hissed as he pulled his manhood from her body and rolled off of her.
“Did that hurt?”he asked, suddenly serious.
She gave him a pretend pout. “No, but you could have stayed another moment or two.”
He leaned over and kissed her before he reached over to turn down the candle lamp. “I feared you would be smothered,” he countered as he lowered his head onto the pillows and then turned his body to face hers. “Will you stay? Just in case you want to make love to me in the middle of the night?”
Emily blinked, just then comprehending his earlier words about marriage. Even though his invitation was couched in what she could have interpreted a jest, she knew he didn’t mean it like that. He wanted her. He wanted her to stay. “Well, I’m not going anywhere when you put it like that,” she murmured sleepily.
James grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her against his body as he rolled onto his back and promptly fell asleep.
A moment later, Emily joined him in slumber.
Chapter 26
The Reality of Mornings
Very early the following morning
The sound of a baby’s giggles had Frances emerging from a deep sleep. She was sure she heard it in her dream, just after the briefest of kisses touched her cheek. The bed in which she slept had grown cold for a time, but was now once again warm.
A giggle. There it was again.
She struggled to capture the image in the dream and finally gave up, opening her eyes to a most unusual sight.
Gabe was holding her son on his broad chest, tummy side down. Then he lifted the babe, held him aloft, and then lowered his top half until he could kiss David’s forehead.
David’s giggles once again filled the bedchamber as his legs kicked, and Frances felt her chest tighten. Never had she seen her son so happy. Never had he made sounds such as these.
His biceps bunched, Gabe once again lifted the boy and was waving him through the air, as if he were a chubby bird. David caught sight of her as he briefly hovered over her, and he once again giggled. “Mama,” he said, his legs kicking beneath the fresh gown he was wearing.
Frances sat up, torn between scolding Gabe or kissing him for entertaining her son. She didn’t have to decide, though, for Gabe lowered the boy to his chest and held him with one hand while he lifted his torso with the other, leaned over, and kissed her.
“Good morning,” he whispered. “I hope you don’t mind. I knew you would want to check on him first thing, so I... I went and got him.”
Frances blinked. “In your robe, I hope,” she whispered, noting he was naked from the waist up. The rest of him was beneath the bed linens, but a quick look confirmed he wasn’t wearing anything down there, either.
Gabe chuckled. “Of course. Mrs. Watkins wasn’t the least bit surprised to see me.”
Color suffused Frances’ face. Did all the servants know Gabe had spent the night in the guest bedchamber?
“It’s still quite early, but she was up with her children.”
“Is he wet?”
Frowning, Gabe lifted the boy again. “I don’t see how, given Mrs. Watkins just put on a new nappy. She was dressing him when I arrived, thinking you would want to feed him first thing.”
“Dada.”
Gabe and Frances both turned to stare at the baby. “He’s never said that before,” Frances murmured.
David reached for Frances, and she took him from Gabe’s hold. The babe immediately latched onto one of her nipples.
“I didn’t mind,” Gabe whispered. “In fact...” He paused and redirected his gaze to Frances. “I wouldn’t mind if he thought I was.” He turned his attention back to the nursing boy, wondering if his own father had felt the same way he did the moment he had learned he had a son.
Lifting himself to a sitting position, Gabe leaned over and kissed Frances’ shoulder. “Would you?”
She stared at him until David pounded on her chest, and she was forced to turn her gaze back on the nursing babe. “What are you saying?”
“Marry me, Frances. Marry me, and I’ll recognize him as my own,” Gabe murmured.
Frances inhaled sharply and then shook her head. “This is all a dream, isn’t it? I simply ate too late, and now I’m...”
She couldn’t finish when Gabe leaned over again and kissed her mouth. Kissed her until David gave up his hold on his mother to say, “Dada dada.” A chubby arm reached up, and Gabe absently caught it between a thumb and forefinger before the babe could pound it against her chest.
When he finished the kiss, Gabe turned his attention to David and said, “Finish your breakfast, young man. I wish to make love to your mother, and I cannot do it with you in the way.”
But the babe’s eyelids were already heavy, and his suckling slowed to a halt.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Frances whispered in complaint. “He hasn’t even started on my other breast.”
“He can finish when I’m done with you,” Gabe teased, gently pulling the babe from her hold to place him between two pillows.
“I haven’t yet bathed,” Frances argued, even as Gabe’s hand slid between her thighs. She inhaled sharply, stunned at how her body responded to his touch.
With anticipation. Desire.
“I’ll give you a bath when we’re done,” he promised, at exactl
y the same moment his thumb rubbed over her womanhood. “But until then, I wish to show you how all of our mornings can be if we wed.”
Frances settled back in the pillows, deciding she had best not argue. With his mind on carnal matters, Gabe wasn’t expecting she would give him an immediate answer to his earlier demand. It was hard to think of his words as anything else.
Marry me.
But then it was hard to think of anything as his ministrations brought her to ecstasy. A moment later, and he replaced his finger with his manhood, slowing pushing into her, allowing her body to pull him in with every waning wave until his cock was completely buried inside her.
At some point, she had lifted her knees, her thighs gripping the sides of his, and he murmured, “Bless you.”
That was the moment when everything went still. When even their breaths were held in anticipation as his face hovered over hers.
And then he moved. Pulled out and pushed in, ever so slowly. He kissed her, pulled out, and kissed her again, increased his rhythmic thrusting until he could no longer hold on.
Warmth filled Frances as the muscles in his arms bunched, as his head lifted and his entire body seemed to go rigid. Just when she was sure he would collapse atop her, he did something—she wasn’t even sure what he did—and pleasure suffused her entire body.
She hadn’t expected sensations so intense. So unlike anything she had ever felt before. She struggled to breathe. Struggled to silence her mewling and soft cries lest she wake the entire household.
When Gabe finally settled onto her, it was only a moment before he rolled off of her and ended up on his back, his eyes closed and his breathing labored.
She glanced over at David, wondering if he had paid witness to what had just happened. His attention was on one of his feet though, one he seemed determined to stuff into his mouth.
Even as the waves of her orgasm were still abating, she reached for the babe. Although he wasn’t fussy, she knew he was still hungry.
The Puzzle of a Bastard Page 19
