by Eve Pendle
Her chest was heaving with exertion. She hadn’t known arousal was physical like this.
“More.” His hands suited his words, moving her hips downward even as he thrust up into her.
Yes. Yes, she sped up, pushing the tip of his cock deep into her again and again. He was hard and beautiful. At the edge of her pleasure there was a line of pain, but she ignored it.
He must have known. His right hand continued to dig into her hip, moving with her, while the other slipped between them. He found that place again, stroking and circling while his erection pushed her higher into sensation with every movement. It built, like before but broader, a floodplain instead of a valley stream. When she thought she couldn’t bear it, the ecstasy broke out, overpowering her. It swelled over her and she cried out.
Moments later, he stiffened, crushed her to him and groaned. Intermingled with the ebbing of the pleasure, Grace felt satisfaction at the feeling of his hard body pressed against and in hers, as close as two people could be. They were breathing together, in and out in harmony.
She’d read once that a child was created when the blood of the parents combined during their union. Everett was still inside her, so deep it seemed impossible they’d ever be separated again. Was this what it meant for their blood to combine? The possibility of her being with child crept down her back. Waiting would have been more sensible. But she’d do it again, consequences or no, for the feeling of being with him. They were so near to the end of their bargain now, there was nothing to go wrong.
…
“Are you all right?” Everett managed to ask as his heartbeat finally slowed.
“What a graceless sort of question.” Through the bravado, he heard the uncertainty in her voice.
He pulled her closer. “Gracelessness has been my problem all my life.” He could only hope it wouldn’t be in less than a week.
He was rewarded with the feel of her back moving with a laugh. She had no idea how true it was.
“Is that what the ache in my thighs is? Your Grace?”
“We can call it that.” He hoped this was the beginning of something that would tie them together for life. Arm banded around her waist, he nuzzled the sweet lily fragranced skin of her neck. She was everything, so perfect he wanted to breath her in. He combatted his feelings with humor. “But did you like it? Was it good? Transcendent? Awe inspiring? Superlative?”
“Hmm.” She paused, as if to think. “Mixed.”
He chuckled. That was his wife, never having any time for a man’s pride. “It will be better next time. I am told the first time is a little problematic.”
“I think you have a vested interest. How can I trust you?” she retorted, but her tone was laced with a smile.
She ought not to trust him. He was a cad and a cheat and a liar and he needed her money. He had to persuade her to leave her brother with Lord Rayner so he could pay debts to the family his brother had wronged, the Lawsons. A sister would always want to coddle her brother, though Lord Rayner would lose from any scandal regarding his treatment of Henry. But he was also going to do everything he could to earn and deserve her love.
“Have I not been correct about the things we did before?” He skimmed his hand down her body to rest on the dark curls between her legs. “When I kissed you here? When I stroked your nipples?” Her intake of breath said that she remembered how right he had been. That was as good as an affirmative. Everett grinned as he settled down further into the mattress. “Yes, you will see how awe inspiring making love is.”
After a few minutes, his muscles began to release and sleep slipped up to him. It was nearly upon him when Grace spoke.
“It was so intimate,” she whispered, presumably thinking he was asleep.
He kept his breath even, not wanting to break the spell.
“I felt closer to you than I’ve been to anyone before. The feel of you inside me, it was as though we were truly joining.” She was silent for a moment. “I am a bit sore now. But it was perfect. It was transcendent.”
…
The next few days saw the two of them not as active in their work duties as before, but Everett didn’t care.
“It’s because of the village fete and the charity auction. They took up a great deal of time,” Grace justified to Everett as they walked back from calling on one of the women in the village. They had dismissed the carriage to enjoy the gentle yellow sunshine of the first week of September. “And the weather has been too lovely to spend all day inside with papers.”
“You say that, but you don’t seem to mind being indoors when we are in bed. We have been neglecting our duties”—he leaned over and murmured into her ear—“because I want to fuck you senseless every minute of the day. I cannot get enough of you.”
Her answering smile was almost smug, and he reveled in her appreciation. He’d taught her the meaning, and how to use, all the other illicit words she’d heard and many others her sheltered upbringing and his time in the army meant that he knew and she’d never heard. He loved hearing the forbidden words on her lips. He liked it even more when she enacted them.
Reminding her of their nights was his favorite way to distract her, and himself, other than actually taking her to bed. Since that first time when they’d retired to bed in the afternoon, they’d spent long nights together, her eyes intent and hungry, and she was still in his bed in the morning for a sleepy joining to start the day.
He’d thought it would be enough once he could spill into her. All the time he’d held back, telling himself he couldn’t slip into her wet folds until she invited him, he’d thought all he wanted was full congress. It wasn’t enough. He wanted her, body, mind, and heart. Every time he’d found a new thing that pleased or pleasured her, he’d felt her smile pierce deeper into his own heart, even as he told himself it was all just to ensure she was happy. It was fulfilling, engaging her mind and her body. But she still hadn’t said anything of love, and as wonderful as union with her was, he wanted her unbridled affection as well as her unbridled passion.
She could be pregnant from their lovemaking and that thought radiated warmth through his body. He’d requested that bargain with exactly this situation in mind, thinking they’d find passion together and he’d been right. But now he loved her, he wasn’t sure if her staying because of a child would be enough for him. It was just as George had said at the beginning—a man wanted more.
There was the issue of money, too. He needed her honest commitment to stay, and time was running out. The demands for payment of his brother’s debt were becoming insistent. Mr. Lawson sent letters almost daily. Everett furtively wrote back, asking for extra time, or to pay by installments, or anything that would mean Grace would be amenable by the time he was actually forced to ask her to pay the debt. Meanwhile, the Chancery case had slowed, and Grace’s frustration grew proportionally.
“What are you thinking about?” Her face was tilted toward his with an expression of happy curiosity, totally unaware that he needed her money.
“The harvest festival,” he lied. There was no way he was going to confess to worrying that maybe he’d fallen in love and she hadn’t. “It will be a bit hollow this year after many of the farmers have brought in hay that won’t be eaten by the animals.”
“Well, if that’s all, it’s easy.” Her voice was light. “We’ll celebrate other things. I’ll announce the opening of my school for shop work.”
Even a city girl like Grace knew the harvest festival was in over two weeks, at the end of September. His heart expanded, pushing as though it would take over his chest and envelope Grace, too. He looked across at her, their gazes meeting. She was saying that she’d be at the celebration. That she’d still be here, at Larksview, with him.
“That’s perfect.” He squeezed her hand. Except, it wasn’t perfect. Yet.
…
When they arrived back at the house, Everett went to the study and flicked through the morning’s post while Grace changed her gown to something less fancy than the bl
ue silk she’d worn for making calls. He was relieved to find no letter from Mr. Lawson and was content to see a letter from George.
There was no need to worry. No doubt the letter would contain details of his nephew’s latest exploits and the fashionable shows on in London. But just in case, he didn’t think he ought to read it in front of Grace. He opened the envelope and flipped the letter open as he walked to the door of the study, thinking to take a walk around the gardens while he read.
Sarah has asked for a divorce.
He stopped, eyes flicking across the page to understand as quickly as possible.
A divorce.
He wanted to see it was a joke or a mistake. But it wasn’t. George only made a vague allusion to the reason Sarah intended to give: adultery. He could guess with whom George was unfaithful. Military life amongst men gave him some insight into the relationship of his brother and Charles Baysleigh.
George didn’t mention the more serious issue. Everett had read enough of the torrent of divorce proceedings published in the papers after the 1857 Act to remember that whereas a husband only required adultery as grounds for divorce, a wife had to have two grounds. He was certain George wasn’t cruel, hadn’t deserted her, and wasn’t a bigamist. But Charles Baysleigh was enough to indict George as both an adulterer and sodomite.
Under the confusion of George’s letter, there was a scratchy line of pain. Everett had been abroad when George had married. His letters had talked of duty and dowry, but also affection for his chosen bride. She is witty, knowing, and beautiful, George had said.
When Everett had met her, much of that seemed to have been eroded away to a stiff combination of attractive features. George had promised at the time that he loved his wife, and Everett’s careful questions about what he might miss when he was married had been met with assurances.
George’s letter said he had plan to win Sarah back, but that didn’t comfort Everett. The consequences of failure were too dire—if Sarah got her divorce, she might also get George hung.
His brother’s dark humor that the Hetherington name couldn’t get much worse left Everett even more discomfited. His fingers involuntarily creased the paper as he read the stories about Grace that his brother conveyed. Seller of false goods, woman of ill repute, whore, likely spread by that little coward, Rayner. They were ugly words that made him shake with the desire to defend her against any slight, imagined or real.
George also asked after his own marriage, asking whether the seduction was going well and whether his “quite pretty” wife was enough to satisfy him. Quite enough, he wanted to answer, knowing his brother would recognize the understatement.
The lies had seemed so small at first and now looked mountainous. How was he to tell Grace about this?
Part of him wanted to give up the pretense. But there was no way to pay the debt other than the dowry any more than there had been when they’d agreed to their marriage. He was too far into this scheme now, though he would have to tell her eventually. Perhaps when she declared her love, freely, willingly, then maybe she would be caught up enough to accept this. There were just days left in their bargain. When she was staying, out of her own volition, and confessed her love, he’d know she was ready. She couldn’t give herself to him so utterly when they made love and not remain with him. When she’d made that commitment, he’d explain about Peter’s debt.
Everett stuffed the letter into the middle of a stack of unanswered correspondence on his desk. It took him several minutes to slow his heart rate and compose his features into a benign smile. Thankfully, he managed before Grace was finished with her toilette.
“Anything interesting in the post?” she asked as she entered the study.
“No.” How could he lie to the woman he loved? “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Throughout the afternoon, Grace kept sneaking looks at him, concern in her lash-shadowed eyes. The worst thing was he desperately wanted to ask for her advice. She had read so much about the law in her fight to get Henry back, she could know something pertinent to George’s case. He couldn’t let her see the letter, however, and if he told her, her brilliantly precise mind would want to read George’s exact words. The rumors repeated in the letter were bad, his brother’s affair was worse, but she absolutely couldn’t know about the debt. Not until he was sure she wouldn’t leave.
While Grace changed for dinner, he wrote his stream of concern and encouragement into a letter to George, his handwriting large and hurried. He wanted to go to London and shake George until he found a way to resolve this. Or Sarah. Or George’s lover, Charles. More than anything, he wanted to hug his brother and reassure him it was going to be all right. Even though he wasn’t sure it would. But his mind wouldn’t cooperate and find any reason that Grace might find credible to visit London.
When evening finally came, he took Grace to bed and poured out all the agony and guilt in his soul into sensual lovemaking that brought her to pleasure time after time, before he too peaked. When she fell asleep, her hair silky over his arm and her cheek on his chest, he stared at the dark canopy of the bed. He prayed he’d done enough.
Chapter Eighteen
After
The morning of the seventh week after their marriage scarcely dawned with heavy gray clouds, threatening to rain. Grace looked out from bed with a satisfied smile. This was the first day of the rest of their lives. She didn’t want to mark it, and indeed the weather wasn’t bestowing on it the glory it deserved.
Today, she would find the perfect moment to tell Everett she loved him; that would complete their happiness together. They hadn’t discussed this milestone, but it had become a given that she would stay. Everett had put aside the particulars of London townhouses, preparations were being made for the harvest festival, and the training store, as she had come to think of it, was coming along well.
This day, the start of their non-bargain wedded life together, was just like any other except for her full-to-bursting heart. They breakfasted, companionably reading the news and read aloud interesting passages to each other, and she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. While working, she kept looking up and finding him watching her, an equal grin on his face. It was tacit, but each of them knew the significance of the day, and like a shared secret, it was all the sweeter for not being said out loud.
She caught his eye again and her heart thudded with the love she saw there.
Everett put down his pen. “Grace,” he said, his voice warm and low.
“M’lord, m’lady.” A harassed-looking John nearly managed to introduce the dowager before she swept into the room.
They jumped up, a cold breeze cutting the moment and whatever Everett had been about to say.
Grace gave her a polite curtsy. “Good morning, Lady Westbury.”
It felt odd to address another woman with what she now considered to be her title. Even if the older lady had held it for much longer than Grace had, she wasn’t used to seeing her. Since the evening of their wedding day, her mother-in-law had pointedly ignored her. It was surprising she was calling on them now, but that was no reason to be inhospitable. Their study was a comfortable space for Everett and her, but the dowager would loathe it.
“Shall we have our conversation in the parlor?” Grace asked. “I’ll ring for some tea.”
“I’ve already ordered tea in the blue parlor.” The dowager swept back out of the room, leaving them to follow.
She shared a wry smile with Everett, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, Sorry.
She dismissed the rudeness with a shake of her head. The dowager was likely used to ordering things in this house, and habits were difficult to break. They followed her into the more formal room. Once they were seated, tea had arrived and been poured, the dowager regarded her with a pinched expression. Everett took Grace’s hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She glanced across at him to show him that she was fine.
“You two don’t have to keep up your farce with me,” the dowager said.
&n
bsp; “I don’t know what you mean, Mother.” Everett didn’t relinquish their point of contact.
Grace frowned. No one knew about the six weeks except them. They’d been so careful. What had the dowager heard? The gossip in London had died down weeks ago, according to Caroline.
The dowager ignored him and addressed Grace. “When are you going to leave?”
“I’m not leaving.”
Everett’s shoulders lowered slightly into a more relaxed pose. He hadn’t really doubted, had he? Admittedly, they’d left it unsaid, except for that memorable time that he had made her so crazy with lust, she would have said anything.
She could say she loved him now and put all his concerns to rest. It was private, though, not something for his mother to witness. Certainly not this first time she said it. She wanted to tell him when she could watch his eyes for his reaction and touch him as he returned the words.
There was a more pressing question. “What would make you think I was going to leave?”
The older countess waved her hand vaguely. “When one’s son marries so quickly, one finds out about the lady in question. I have heard about your little ‘arrangement.’”
She made it sound sordid. Grace felt herself flush. “It’s not what you think.” The words tumbled out, and they made it sound worse. She wanted to explain that though it had started that way, their bargain was all in the past now. It had been grubby, but it wasn’t anymore. She opened her mouth to do so, but nothing came out. What business was it of the dowager anyway?
“I know about your baby born out of wedlock. I know that she is your child.” The dowager looked down her nose with an air of righteous authority.
Panic shot through her, even as she suppressed the urge to laugh. Well, that was more than she knew about herself.
“That’s enough, Mother.” Everett brows were low and his countenance dark. “If you cannot be polite to my wife, I must ask you to leave.”
