Do that again, he interpreted, feeling a grin break across his face and he obeyed, trying not to be too obvious where he was rubbing his erection into her hip. He slid his finger deeper and she groaned deep in her throat, only to bite her lip, looking embarrassed. Aspen felt something like triumph flow through him and pushed himself forward to rest his forehead on the mattress next to her, trying to hold himself back.
This isn't going to last long, he thought, waiting until Jac looked about ready to kill him before he pulled his hand away and shifted himself up the bed. He could barely keep from forcing forward at the feel of her, wet and warm and smooth against the head of his penis. He let his face collapse into the sheet beside hers as he groaned and tried to keep control.
~~//~~
She was going to kill him, Jac thought when he took his fingers away. She glared at him with all her might and pushed her hips up against him. She felt his fingers return, warm and hard and pushing against her and grinned until she realized that what she was feeling was not a finger. She felt alarm shoot through her until he groaned into the sheets beside her and she felt that feeling of power wash over her again. She grinned and squirmed against him, closing her eyes and biting her lip as the wonderful feeling of it returned.
“You might -ah -” he said, grabbing her hip and forcing it down onto the mattress, “might want to stop doing that,” he said, sounding like he was clenching his teeth, “if you want this to last.”
Jac felt something pleasant jolt through her at the feeling of his strength pushing her down and she squirmed again, just to feel his muscles holding her. Aspen brought his face back up, looking concerned for a moment before his eyes flashed over her smile and he laughed, his face open and happy.
Jac let out the moan she was holding back and felt his body jerk roughly against her own, his manhood pushing in deeper.
“Jac, shut up,” he growled, “I am trying not to hurt you.”
Jac laughed, hearing her name and his words.
I’m a married woman, she thought again, letting her eyes roam over him, wishing they’d thrown the window dressings open to bathe him in light. He glanced at her nervously, apparently realizing what he’d said and she smiled again, liking the feeling of driving him to madness. His dark eyes met hers and he groaned deep in his throat.
The Duke of Aspen, she thought, before deciding that if he wasn't going to move, she would. She pushed her hips up and onto him further, squirming when he felt too big for a moment, but something inside her seemed to soften and he pushed in further. He grunted and moved against her, matching her movement and she winced as something was too rough, too tight inside her. She squirmed, trying to get the feeling to go away.
“Would you hold still?” He growled, pushing down on her hips again. Jac felt her heart skip a beat at the image of this muscled, scarred man on top of her. The Duke of Aspen. She smiled again, feeling as if her face was set to crack from too much happiness. Her body softened and she felt his manhood push the rest of the way in, his hips resting against her own.
“No,” she informed him, rolling her hips around him and feeling her eyes roll back at the feeling. She gasped. “I wasn't planning on it,” she breathed out and heard him growl again. He started to pull out and Jac moved quickly, gripping his back with her fingernails and matching his gaze with a glare.
“If you pull out now I will kill you,” she stated. To her surprise he broke out in another of his wide, twisted smiles and kissed the top of her head.
“Trust me,” he said quietly, “I'll be back.” Jac released her hold on him, stretching out her fingers over his back. He slid out only a bit further and slowly started working his way back toward her. Jac felt him pushing deeper, rubbing her everywhere and she let her head fall back to the pillow.
“Good,” she said and heard him chuckle before she pushed up against him and saw him swallow deeply.
“This isn't going to last long,” he groaned, closing his eyes.
~~//~~
Jac pressed against him, doing her best to fight against an insane desire to moan and pull him down to her. He, however, seemed to have no such compunctions about making noise. He grunted above her and cursed as he moved faster and faster. She finally gave up and groaned, feeling as if she was trying to race for something but couldn't make it. His eyes flashed open at the sound and he clenched his jaw, his breath coming hard and heavy through his nose for a moment.
He liked that, she thought triumphantly, and let herself moan. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself down on top of her, hard enough that she slid up the mattress. He pressed again and groaned and she felt something warmer than the rest push through her. He grunted and stilled, gasping for breath beside her ear. He rolled off her finally, looking peaceful and she took a deep breath; trying to keep her hips from still pressing upwards into the open air, wanting more.
“Just gotta-” he said, breathing, “wait a moment,” he said and she nodded, not quite sure what was going on but thinking it seemed like he had a grasp on things again.
Cold air started to prick at her arms and back and she rolled over, sprawling herself half on top of him. His scars looked different up close. They were puckered and dry but didn't look as discolored and Jac ran a finger lightly over his face, realizing he hadn't kissed her. He pulled away from her fingers and she pulled herself up slightly to look at him.
“I am attracted to you,” she stated. His eyes widened and for a moment Jac wondered if she should have been more feminine. He smirked.
“I believe you,” he panted out, nodding and Jac blushed. She hid her face in his chest for a moment and felt his hand run over her cheek, lifting her face to his. He kissed her softly, his lips running over hers. His skin was rougher against her own.
Why is kissing so special? She wondered for a moment, not feeling much until he moved and took her head in his hands, his fingers dipping into her hair. He pulled her toward him, his mouth moving over hers, the feeling making her want to groan and smile at the same time. He shifted, rolling to move above her again and she smiled fully at the idea.
“You're going to have to wait, Jac,” he said, sounding amused as he pulled his face up to look at hers.
“Shall we get up, go to the coffeehouse again?” she teased and he glared at her. “I still have Mr. Charington’s breeches.”
“I don’t need that long,” he growled and she smiled. “But then, yes. I’m sure there have been some developments with Sweden.”
Jac blinked and saw that he was serious. She didn't know how to stop smiling but her jaw was starting to hurt.
“I could fall in love with you for that,” she said and his eyes lit up.
“And I you,” he replied.
“Do I still have to wait, then?” she asked coyly and he groaned aloud, rolling his eyes at her.
“Actually...no,” he said, opening his eyes again and chuckling.
~~//~~
“They are staring,” Jacoline whispered, clutching Aspen’s arm as he led her onto the dance floor.
“I am used to it,” Aspen replied, glaring at Lady Branbury before the widow got a chance to open her mouth. Lady Branbury scowled but stayed silent.
“But I am not,” Jacoline answered, turning her head to watch Lady Musgrave smile tightly at her. “Lady Musgrave appears to have developed lockjaw,” she whispered.
Aspen laughed aloud, drawing only more glances. For the first time, they were watching him lead his wife onto a dance floor. Aspen reveled in it.
“Let her glare. We won’t see her often and she’ll invite you to all her soirees regardless,” Aspen replied.
“And lockjaw is fatal in about twenty percent of cases,” Jacoline added quietly. Aspen laughed and spun his wife around to take her into his arms for a waltz. Jacoline’s green eyes widened comically.
“I have not waltzed in a very long time,” she protested in a whisper, staring at their feet. Aspen smiled and put more room between them to help c
over her mistakes. He saw Lady Eleanor Plainsworth meet Jacoline’s eyes and wink strangely. Jac winked back, apparently understanding the odd exchange.
“Let them all stare,” Aspen repeated. Jac’s eyes narrowed at him and he glanced pointedly toward where Daniel stood in the corner, whispering into Mr. Henry Charington’s ear. Those who were not staring at the new Duchess of Aspen were gaping at her brother. They would say nothing and Daniel clearly knew it. Lord Daniel Holcombe was now a duke’s brother. Mr. Henry Charington laughed heartedly, the sound carrying over the room’s quiet music. Lord Monson crossed the room to join their conversation, eager to reingratiate himself. Jacoline turned back to him, relief and happiness blooming in her green eyes. Aspen gazed down at her, wishing they were alone so he could kiss her and get her out of her gown.
“Shall we, Your Grace?” he suggested, taking her hand for the waltz.
“We shall,” she answered and Aspen stepped forward into the dance.
The End
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Draft Excerpt From Daniel & Henry
Daniel jerked to a stop, his body halfway through the door of Mrs. Clap's coffee shop. Mr. Henry Charington was sitting at one of the small glass tables, lifting his hand to get a waitress’s attention. Henry Charington was one of England's most successful merchants, though what he traded in had long since slipped Daniel's mind. Rumor had it the man had recently been making rather desperate attempts to mingle in aristocratic circles, though he'd shown little interest before.
What the devil is he doing here?
Daniel stepped back, hoping to go unseen and heard the little bell strapped to the top of the door jingle cheerfully. Daniel took another slow step back, hoping to escape, but Mr. Charington’s gaze darted over, catching the movement, and he met Daniel’s eyes. His gaze widened. Daniel felt whatever blood left in his face drain out of it, leaving him staring into the mostly empty room. Mr. Charington stood up from his table slowly, putting his napkin down beside his plate, and for a moment Daniel wanted to snort at how they looked, standing and staring at each other from ten paces apart – like two fools before a duel - in the entrance of one of London's better known meeting places for sodomites.
“Ah, Mr. Charington,” Daniel greeted, hoping his smile did not come off as a grimace. There was nothing for it but to greet him now. They had never been introduced but that was hardly pertinent, standing in the middle of a molly house. A man in women’s garb sat at a table with a gentleman, taking tea by the carefully curtained window. “Could you be so good as to tell me how to get to Kensington Square?”
That’s it, precisely. I came into a random shop for directions; that’s all. I have no notion of the illegal purpose of this fine coffee establishment.
“Yes! Yes, I am afraid I cannot help you. I came in here for directions myself and -” the man glanced down at the empty teacup still at his table. “-and stopped for some tea. It’s lovely here. Do..you..think..” the man trailed off, looking vaguely confused and blushing into his hair.
Daniel wanted to bury his face in his hands. Yes, clearly they both came into Mother Clap’s coffee shop for the express purpose of going somewhere else. If only he didn’t blush, this could still be salvaged. Mr. Charington was obviously aware of the place’s nature but Daniel certainly didn’t need to be. He was a stereotypical, properly-inclined sexual nobleman. Daniel felt his blush spread from his ears down to his neck and cursed himself.
Right.
Mr. Charington cleared his throat and drew a hand over his hair, his cup rattling in its saucer with his movements.
“Well. Kensington Square is two blocks further on, if you take a right at Green Street. Just.. just there,” Mr. Charington stated, pointing out of the window beside him, though its yellow curtains were pulled shut. They'd attracted the attention of the other patrons.
Right. Daniel bowed swiftly and left.
He blushed all the way to his coach.
“Lady Plainsworth’s, please,” he told Harold, his very stoic, very well paid coachman. Harold closed the door behind him, not commenting on the unexpectedly short visit. Daniel sighed, forcing his heart to calm.
He rested his head on the bench back and breathed out slowly. It was surely inevitable, being caught out. And it had happened in the best possible way. Mr. Henry Charington was an extraordinarily rich man with business ties across the world but he did not have the social standing to ruin him. And more, he did not have the motivation. No, Mr. Charington was as steeped in this crime as he was, quite likely more so. Daniel had done nothing more than step into a coffee house surrounded by men who would not revile him for his attraction. That was hardly the definition of sodomy as the law knew it. There was, at least, no reason for fear.
A jolt from the road sent Daniel’s head slamming up onto the coach ceiling.
“Oh, bugger,” he groused, rubbing his head and looking out at the passing city. The pain faded quickly and Daniel sighed, amusement starting to hit him. Christ but Mr. Henry Charington was an awkward fellow.
Draft Excerpt from Lady Eleanor Plainsworth
"Of course the Barkaman tea is a good investment. The boxes are so quaint," Eleanor said, resting her fingers lightly on her fiancé's arm. The Duke of Mariton sighed and rested his own hand over hers, ignoring her comment. A mistake, Eleanor thought. The Barkaman name truly was improving and they were due to purchase two new ships. They'd barely gone three steps farther in their walk through his gardens before she spoke again.
"Oh, do look at those topiaries just there. Did your mother order them? They are lovely, but of course the beak of that popinjay is just dreadfully done," she criticized, keeping her voice as cheerful as she could.
"What do popinjay beaks look like then?" the Duke's brother, Lord Charles, asked in obviously feigned curiosity.
"I'm glad you asked, Charles, I did wonder myself," His Grace lied, patting her arm and flashing his brother a grateful look. Eleanor bit her lip, wanting to scold them both for mocking her, even if she was making a credible impression of an idiot. Society did not celebrate intimidating women - it wanted charming ones. And 'charming' she could be.
"Oh, well, I'm not sure, I must confess. I must ask my gardener when I get home," she said instead and wandered toward the rose bushes growing beside the walk. The Duchess of Mariton grew the most incredible plants.
"You don't have to marry her, you realize." Lord Charles' voice floated back to her on the light breeze. Eleanor straightened slowly. That she was certainly not meant to hear.
"Who said I did not wish to marry her? She is the darling of the ton," her fiancé replied, sounding affronted. Eleanor moved to catch up with them, grateful for his defense. They were not romantic, no, but she knew they would grow fond of each other in time. "I'll marry her, wrap her in silks and jewels and whatever else and live my life," he added, sounding like he was trying to sound happy about it.
"Why bother getting married at all? You're evidently not romantic," Lord Charles asked. Eleanor slowed her pace, suddenly desperate for that answer. Why had she never been asked that? Why had she never asked herself that?
"I have no grounds to break my engagement," the Duke muttered.
Neither do I, Eleanor thought, pausing halfway through a step. Lord Charles shot her fiancé a surprised, worried look.
"And no desire to," the Duke added, but Eleanor was willing to bet most of her dowry that he was lying to himself. She hastened to catch up, making as much noise about it as she could, and the conversation ended.
"Those roses are gorgeous. I must tell your mother," she said, taking the Duke's arm again. He patted her hand idly, not answering, apparently lost in thought.
Was this all her marriage would be?
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Gwendolynn Thomas grew up in New Jersey and now lives in Boston despite an intense hatred of cold. Due to a strange series of events, she is trained in basic falconry, certified to operate a forklift, and speaks American Sign Language. In her spare time, Gwendolynn is 5'5'' tall and enjoys philosophy, pole dancing, and jigsaw puzzles.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Daniel & Henry Intro
Lady Eleanor
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