He had met her during last Season, a daughter of a viscount from some God-forsaken county in the north. Eleanor had a smile that would make any man melt and gaining her made many pledge to do whatever she wanted. They had all bowed to her but she gave her all to him, the Earl of Windhaven, and he to her. It was a match made in heaven and one he refused to give up, despite the higher ranking gentlemen pushing for her hand and a father that wanted wealth to insure his family for years to come. Not that James didn’t have money, nor did he hold a title lower than her father’s expectations. Much to the contrary. But the old man shot for higher rank, irritating James.
Eleanor, though, had her own motivation—love.
James spun her on the dance floor, his heart beating hard and fast to the sound of her laugh and the sparkle in her blue eyes. The petite waif captured his heart at their introduction and the touch of her gloved hand on his drove the nail home. He asked for her hand in marriage by the end of the dance and happily he recalled her response of yes, the unofficial acceptance followed by her father’s approval. Within a month, before the end of the Season, their whirlwind romance led to a wedding on the most glorious sunny day in May…
He relished every breath he took with her by his side. Despite that, a quiet fear that this was only a dream haunted his thoughts. That he’d wake to find her not there and never had been. The fear hit at times so hard that he could not breath and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting that nightmare away. No, Eleanor was here, walking down the aisle to become his wife.
Memories of two mornings ago seeped into his thoughts in the final seconds before she stood next to him. When they had had the evening to themselves, the banns fully read and their wedding nothing more than a showpiece for the ton, since all would consider them bonded.
A simple kiss became deeper. To touch her finally brought home how slender and delicate she was but he soon discovered her need for him equaled his for her. He tried to take it slow, to not hurt her, but she gave him little hope of gentle seduction.
Now she was at his side. Her father placed her hand in his and she squeezed. He gave her a lopsided grin, a thank you, for returning him to the ceremony. It was a long, drawn out affair as the priest droned on about the sanctity of marriage and the prodigy it would produce, as if they were cattle, he thought snidely, all in the name of the Lord. He only halfway heard the churchman, too involved in touching her again, even with both of them wearing gloves.
Vows stated, they were blessed and off to a breakfast of cheer and well-wishes from their guests. He could not leave fast enough. Once he saw the opportunity, he scooped her away.
Finally back at the Windhaven estate, alone with his bride, he took her to the bedroom. No words were heard but their bodies spoke a million. Into late in the afternoon, his soul sang. Eleanor was here, her deep honey-brown mussed curls on his shoulder and she was cradled next to him, her sigh rustled the hairs on his chest, sending a shiver down his spine. By night, exhaustion overwhelmed them. He didn’t sleep much but her soft, steady breath assured him she did. His beautiful Eleanor…
Her arm across his chest repositioned itself ever slightly, cuddling her body up close to his side. Dainty fingertips pressed against his breast before resting. It made his blood race with excitement. Oh, she had him and knew he’d never deny her. It was a game, part of the seduction, to find that point of no return. Their destroyed bedchamber a testimony to that with clothes everywhere, the main blanket thrown aside, using only a bed sheet and their body heat to warm them through the night.
Finally, her lips touched his upper arm, and as they pressed against his flesh, flames ignited inside him. It took every ounce of energy not to quiver.
She moved closer. Her breasts, delicate and delicious mounds of womanly flesh, pushed against him. When she touched him, her nipples were hard and the air began to fill with the scent of her. Her thighs were wrapped around his hips and the heat of her feminine lips, wet with need, dripped on him.
“Its chilly in here.” She shivered against him.
Liar. It was the end of May, the heat of summer was slowly turning up as the morning took hold but he said nothing.
He chuckled. “No, my love. You feel very warm to the touch.”
She kissed his arm then moved to his chest. “Then heat my insides. Make love to me, my darling James…”
Her words unraveled his resolve to hold back and let her body mend from all the play earlier. With a growl, he turned slightly, grabbed her hips and rolled, placing her on top of him, his harden cock balanced between the apex of her thighs but not inside her. It was total torture to have her spread over him, the warmth of her wet heat coating his stiffened, throbbing member.
“James, please.”
He gazed at her face, thrilled at her straddling him, her eyes clouded with desire, her nipples pearled and dark pink with her long, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. It took him only a second to lift her hips, allowing his hardened cock to pivot to the right spot. He slowly lowered her, impaling her slick passage till he filled her.
They kept their eyes locked, even as the pace quickened. Her breasts bobbed and he reached for one, pinching the nubbed rosette with each twist, issuing little groans from her lips. Slowly he rose to suckle from her—only a second before her hips rocked back.
As her core tightened, his own assent to climax escalated, the very notion of shooting his seed into her womb drove him further till he couldn’t take it any longer and he grabbed her hips, flipping their position with him on top, still buried inside. With a husky moan, she grinned and locked her legs around his hips as he ground into her. She mewled a protest when he pulled back, his tip barely inside and that drove him over the edge. He sank into her and, before he let himself go, she quivered, shattering around him. He quickly joined her, his seed streaming into her body as he collapsed on top of her.
Still inside, he panted, trying to regain composure with her legs still around his hips.
“I love you, James.” She kissed his lips lightly.
He smiled at his queen. “I love you, Eleanor. Now and forever.” He returned her kiss more thoroughly. As he pulled away, she smiled with a sigh.
His life was complete.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter One
Her brows bunched in a frown as she tilted her head, assessing herself in the looking glass. When she realized what she was doing, she snorted at the ugly reflection and straightened, wiping the look from her face. She could hear her mother reminding her that she’d cause age lines by frowning so much. And the voice inside her head made her smile. Her dear mama had parted this life two years ago, making a void in her heart she didn’t think would mend until she met James…
She adjusted the ivory bonnet and retied the bow, deciding it was right and smart looking. Her cream pelisse, trimmed in blue, shifted on her shoulders and she turned for an overall view of how it appeared with her new ivory and blue striped silk gown, trimmed in lace and ribbons. But even a small turn made her wince as an ache from her core out to her hips reminded her how her new husband pleasured her repeatedly last night. A small smile spread to her lips as the memories flooded her, stoking the fire in her lower abdomen to simmer with desire, even weeks after they had wed. She closed her eyes simply to enjoy the marks left by his touch…
“Be careful, darling. I can still taste you,” a deep, husky masculine voice whispered into her ear. “I may take you back to bed.”
She giggled. “As I recall, my lord, you claimed you had appointments to keep, as do I.”
With a distant eye, Eleanor peered at their reflection in the mirror and saw a portrait of a loving couple, standing together, his arms wrapped around her waist. He was a handsome man, one that caused a flutter to start in her stomach, one that grew to a heated frenzy. Now, her need rekindled, despite the soreness of their repeated lovemaking. Leaning back against his rock hard chest, the heat of him permeated the silk dress, right through her stays and down to her very bones. He towered above her. H
is dark brown hair was short considering the style most of his peers wore. With piercing blue eyes that danced in the flames of passion when they were in bed, James made her happy. Tall, broad-shouldered, tapered waist, he was a man made of hours in the saddle. He loved to take his horse on wild steeplechases, running the hills, and fencing. Still intertwined in his arms, she turned simply so she could trace the contours of his chest, fascinated by the lines wrought from the physical work.
The tendons in his arms flexed and she melted a bit more against him. Yes, she loved him with her whole heart and that alone made her feel secure. She had started to believe that despite all the dances and soirees of the Season and all the men who attended, looking for a wife, that she’d never find love. A husband, yes, but never the delirious joy this man had set her on.
James smirked. “Continue that, my love, and no one will see us.” He kissed her neck, just below her ear.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Will it always be like this?”
He nuzzled behind her ear. “I pray it will be.” He pulled back and turned her to face him. “You best be on your way as I expect Wilkinson and Clearwater here shortly. Now,” he gave her a hard look. “Without me by your side, I wish you’d take something to defend yourself with, in case the need arises.”
She didn’t like the stern look on his face. “Darling, there is nothing to fear. I will have Matty with me. And you do have the driver and coachman with their firearms, which, I will say, make me a bit unnerved. No one else drives with that. The French are not here. Not in London nor on the city’s outskirts. I will be fine.”
James’ gaze narrowed. “I will have my wife protected at all costs.”
“I’m only going to Bond Str—”
“Precisely.” He took her hands. “There are bandits out there, looking for unsuspecting prey. We are not in the heart of the city. Being just within driving distance is all these villains need, for they will look for a liveried coach bearing riches—”
“No one would touch the Earl of Windhaven’s carriage. Your reputation precedes you.” She smiled, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger. But the look of worry didn’t ease in his gaze. Instead, his fingertip rolled gently above her décolleté beneath her pelisse, then dipped between her breasts to the top of her stays. With a slight twist of his fingers, he pried her busk free, pulling it out slowly.
“James,” she murmured. It was an intimate move that sent heat spiraling down her spine before it dawned on her his expression hadn’t changed. He didn’t remove the piece entirely.
“Promise me, if set upon, you will not hesitate to use this.”
She frowned. “Darling, it is—”
“A weapon, if needed. Promise me.” He stood before her, hand still on the raised busk, the tone of his voice tense.
“Of course.” She pushed his hand down, reasserting the make-shift knife back into place. She smiled. That combined with her promise seemed to break through his fierce gaze. It gave her the moment she needed to leave, if she was to keep her appointment. With a quick kiss to his lips, Eleanor grabbed her gloves and reticule and headed out the door, before he had another chance to stop her. Now, if she could only get her heated body to cool…
* * *
James shut his eyes, throwing the pen in his hand to the desktop, and fell back into the padded chair. He was tense as a turned violin string. The lumbering clouds outside his library window had multiplied, darkening a sunny afternoon. The air had become thick. Rain. He could smell it in the wind. It was not a good time to be traveling. Storms could frighten even the most experience equine and roads could turn into muck and mire.
His Eleanor was out in this mess.
And any highwayman who rode the trails, looking for easy—and rich—prey.
He ran his fingers through his dark brown strands, trying to calm his nerves that even now had the hair on the back of his neck bristling. A crack of thunder had him on his feet, fear for her spread like wildfire through him.
He should not have let her go. Eleanor….
A single knock at the door, followed by his butler Benjamin opening it caught his attention.
“My lord, the Viscount of Clearwater requests to see you.”
The door behind the balding elderly servant swung wide open and Albert Clearwater, Viscount of Clearwater, busted into the room.
“No need for formalities, old chap!” He didn’t slow till he got to James’s desk, a broad grin on his lips and his eyes wide with excitement. “Not going to offer you friend a drink, James?”
James frowned and started to say something when another stag joined the herd.
“Perhaps, old man, after he offers one to his better friend,” the newcomer challenged. George Wilkinson, the Marquis of Stonebriar. Wilkinson slapped Clearwater on the back and both broke into laughter, dragging the reluctant James to join them.
Biting back his chuckle as the two lords began their ceaseless banter on who was the better man, James pulled three glasses out of the sideboard and poured.
“I dare say, James, what has you so damn quiet, huh? That parcel you stole from us wearing you out? Not the young buck you claim to be?” Wilkinson took the glass and downed a gulp before James even heard the last word.
“Stonebriar, be kind.” Clearwater took a glass. “Has years of service to Lady Stonebriar dulled the mind? Or is it that piece you cavort with? What was her name? Penelope?”
James took a sip, letting them distract him. He had to place his faith in God that Eleanor was fine and no doubt she was. The last thing she needed was him dogging her every step. But their eyes glued upon him had him breaking his silence.
“The Lady Windhaven is off for an afternoon with the ladies.”
A heavy breeze, damp with the coming rain, came through the window,
“In this muck and mire? Surely, she won’t tarry long out of doors. A storm is coming.” Clearwater sipped then he frowned. “On the road to London? Perhaps you have cause for concern. Highwaymen love the rain and what it can do to carriages.”
Wilkerson shot Clearwater a look but James caught it. He knew it meant to shut him up, but the thoughts similar to that stated were already in his mind.
“I’m sure she is blessed and safely there. Your men are gallant enough to withstand any attack, of that I am assured.” Wilkerson raised his glass and smiled. But it was a smile as vacant as the one James returned.
As thunder cracked the skies, James shut his eyes and prayed.
* * *
The road was choppy, jarring the carriage periodically. The jolt virtually lifted Eleanor off the seat to drop her suddenly. At first, it startled her since she wasn’t paying attention but fiddling with her bodice. James’ attempt to make a point about her busk being used as a weapon had unsettled the stays. One was jabbing her side. The conveyance wheel hit a hole, lurching it for a split second, long enough to make her wince when her skin got pinched by her stays on the landing. So she braced herself as she fixed it. To make matters worse, the horses took off at a run, the driver yelling from his seat outside the enclosed carriage.
She frowned. There was no need to race to town. The skies had darkened but no thunder had set the team into a panic nor had lightning pierced the sky. Peering outside, she found it still dry and dust rose around them as the wheels increased frantically under the running equines. Whipping wind raced through the opening, strong enough to rent her hat from her head despite the hatpin that she admitted she hadn’t put in right.
“George! What in name of all that’s holy are you doing?” She screamed out the window to the driver. But there was no response outside his urging the mounts to go faster. What were they running from? No one should be here, except…her thoughts faded until it hit her full side. Highwaymen! Robbers! Turning in her seat, she took a peek out the small back window and found three horsemen barreling down on them.
Gunfire cracked the air, followed by George’s whip snapping. Oh dear…..
One of the wheels hit another
rut, sending the vehicle flying in the air. Eleanor wasn’t prepared, still sitting with her back turned to view out the back window. When the gun fired, she slouched. The carriage bounced out of another hole and she was ejected from her perch, her head hitting the hard roof. It rattled her senses and pain shot through her skull.
The wagon skidded to a halt as the pounding hooves of the highwaymen’s horses grew closer. She closed her eyes, trying to right herself. Spots danced before her when she tried to focus.
The side door flew open.
“Well, looky what we’ve git here.” The male voice was cockney-accented. But her head hurt so much she couldn’t pull away from him as he reached for her reticule. “Now be a good girl, er, lady, and hand it to me.” He yanked it out of her hands and rummaged through the small bag.
She reached to take it back but the motion made her dizzy and she fell back on her seat. Outside the vehicle, she found George sprawled on the ground, blood smeared on his face, the sight of it made her want to gag and that only made her head throb more. Swallowing the bile in her throat, she braced herself, the growing desire to escape taking control. She pushed off the padded seat toward the door but the sudden motion set her off balance. Her hand caught the doorjamb right as a shot of pain enveloped her and then everything turned black.
This Love Of Mine: ChapterTwo
What seemed an eternity of darkness and quiet faded to the sound of voices, which were muddled. The ringing in her ears and the thudding in her temple made the situation only worse but if she stayed still, she could pick up a tone or two while trying to massage the pain in her head away with pressing on her temple. The talkers were masculine and argumentative. She really didn’t care what they were ranting on about, but the sound became louder, which only increased her irritability because she wanted them to be quiet.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 2
