by Lisa Torquay
His longed for mouth ravened hers in a plundering kiss. They assaulted each other’s mouth open, impudent, thirsty, their tongues chasing, touching, provoking. She made a sound in the back of her throat as her hands merged in his divinely smooth hair. Iron arms closed tighter around her, gluing their eager bodies.
“You cruel harridan!” He moaned on her mouth. “To segregate me in this abstinence all this time!”
“You deserved it!” She moaned back, not even sure she was right.
No more talking because his hand had found her breast and teased it merciless. She groaned; his stubble mouth collated to her neck, her head falling back as his skilled touch assaulted her senses.
Suddenly, her feet left the carpet, she clung more to him at the same time he sat on the sofa. And brought her to straddle him, fumbling with her skirts to bunch them around her thighs. His strained erection reached her hard and hungry, making her abandon all sensible thoughts.
She undid his shirt; he unbuttoned her dress, they grappled at one another mindlessly. When his mouth closed around her bared breast, she arched with shameless pleasure. He passed to the other, his hand participating in the torment too. She robbed her turn, descending on him, mouth open on his muscled chest, her hands groping everywhere, his neck, his strong arms and lower.
Breathless desperation dominated them. Voracious, they struggled with clothing impediment, more and more urgent in their mutual need. Breeches open, drawers gone, they joined in a frenzy of passion engendered by time, and distance, she kept from him. Dam burst, they moved as if there was no tomorrow. They moved faster, hungrier, blinder. Release found them apocalyptical, leaving him spent and her very satisfied. She fell on him, he embraced her exhausted and content. Sated at last. Stillness befell lengthy.
“Come back to my bed.” She heard him mutter in the curve of her neck a long time afterwards. His hand roved the bare skin on her nape.
Her body still fallen on him, her hair half undone, their clothes crushed. Reality seemed difficult to come to at the moment. She did not find what to answer to it. Her senses drenched with the aftermath of their passion, her mind foggy with the remains of pleasure.
“Maybe.” She mumbled to dispense with the question.
“I miss you.” His hand travelled down her spine, causing her shrills. “I miss you like crazy!”
Startled with his utterings, which reflected hers so accurately, she stood up in a jerky movement, her hands straightening her dishevelled clothes.
A glance at him, he continued sitting there, semi naked, shirt gaping to one side, uncovering his strong chest, midnight hair mussed, jaw darkened by stubble. Breeches unbuttoned. Oh, lord! His appetising… manhood in the way of inflating once more as his dark eyes observed her attentive.
If she stayed in here, she would succumb yet again. The last of her buttons in place, she ripped her eyes from his middle to focus on his aristocratic feature.
“Can we talk later? I have things to do now.” Evasion. She became a master in evasion. The chiding clear.
At this, his eyes pierced hers almost uncovering her deepest secrets. His inspection continued until she feared she would bear it no more. She broke contact as her mind started bogging and her body kindling.
“Key.” She requested detached.
He picked it from his pocket, and extended it, without diverting his eyes from her.
Later in the evening, she sat in the drawing room, a letter in her hands. Conrad found her looking down on it pensively.
She had changed to another of her practical dresses, rosewood hair tightly re-done. He made a mental note to throw those horrible things away, even if they aroused him to painfull levels.
“Is anything the matter?” The door clicked shut so the warmth of the fire would not leave the room.
He followed her here, as she had been too quiet at dinner, answering his comments with monosyllables. He would not allow her to deflect him anymore. They must sort out this mess once and for all.
“I am going to visit my cousin.” She informed, her eyes coming up to meet his.
He looked closely at her. Something was amiss; he could not quite grasp what. “When?”
“Tomorrow. She invited me.” She diverted her eyes back to the letter.
“How long?” This did not sound right. He did not want her away from him. She still got sick sporadically; and he wanted to be around to assist her if needed.
“A couple of…” She breathed to full lungs before completing. “A couple of weeks.”
His brow pleated, annoyed. “No!” He commanded without hesitation. This seemed another of her evasion strategies.
Her eyes snapped to him. “I did not ask your permission.”
“I am not giving it, anyway.” He knew her cousin lived in Ipswich. This implied a rather long carriage drive. Probabilities being she would remain there for as long as she was welcome. It might amount to months. A separation de facto.
Her rosewood eyes spit fire at his edit. “It really doesn’t matter.” She defied him. “I have made my plans.”
“You will have to change your plans, I am afraid.” He maintained, with finality.
She shot up from her armchair, fuming now. “You are nobody to dictate what I will do or won’t do! She came to stand three feet from him, eyeing him stonily, letter crunched in her hand.
“I am your husband; in case you have forgotten.” Either he played the adamant spouse card or she would slip away from him.
She breathed a derisive laugh. “As if I am allowed to forget.”
“Aurelia,” He tried to keep it reasonable. “What is it? You seem more and more remote.” Let us put it out in the open, he decided.
Another derisive laugh pressed to come out. Did he really need to ask? Since this afternoon, her blood had been boiling for the night. She would never be able to resist him, stop loving him. She imagined that if she spent time away, she would at least cool down, if not cure from these intense ragged feelings. Away from him would allow her to put circumstances in perspective. She would be capable to think more clearly, even if, in the beginning, she would miss him so much it would twist her insides.
“It’s nothing.” She turned her back to him and paced to the fireplace, trying to level her irregular breaths.
“It cannot be nothing!” He said right behind her. “You have been behaving… differently.”
She gyrated to him. “That’s none of your business.” She fulminated him with her eyes.
He took her by her shoulders, her head falling back to meet his dark serious eyes. “We have a baby on the way; we have to consider it.”
“I am doing it!” She said decisively. “The best is for it to stay far from you.”
He rotated away, raking his hair, expelling air forcefully from his lungs. “I am trying to show you I am not that man anymore.” He turned to her again. “Can you not gauge it from my actions?” He paced to her anew. “Do I have to plead my case every minute of the day?”
She stared at him then. Really stared. Right. Since he arrived, he had done nothing reproachful. He had not gambled. Not a single night out unless with her. No women. He had even avoided drinking. She remembered all of it, of course, she did! But to believe in a complete change?
She nodded, head spinning. “Yes, so you have said.”
“And I do not take it back.”
“You have always been very erratic. You could very well resume your… old ways.”
If she possessed the courage to confess it, the uncertainty of his change was what tore her to pieces. He had been a dream husband from the moment he stepped in the manor from service. Despite his strong personality, which became him, by the way, he had been there for her in everything that counted.
“I won’t, though, I want to be a real father to my children.” His voice came silky and crystalline with sincerity.
Oh, how she wanted to trust him! How she wished she loved him free of any cares!
“I-I …” Emotion clogged her thro
at.
“I am not about to let you down now.” There was a trace of pleading in his tone. “I wish to cherish you for the rest of my life.”
Her fury, which had abated during the conversation, resurged. She neared him blinded by what she regarded as false promises; she stabbed a finger on his broad chest. “Don’t you come with this gibberish!” She stabbed more. “I won’t hear hollow promises.”
He let her vent her fury with stoic patience a strange glint in his dark eyes. As it had subsided, he angled her toward the wall and pressed her with his body.
“Listen to me, Aurelia!” His hands held her shoulders, his voice velvety. “I fell in love with you in my lonely military cot, re-living the moments you were present around my house. I had no women. If the situation became too... tight, I would deal with it on my own. No women, no drink.” His eyes pierced her with hot sentiments. “Then I come home to find a she-wolf burning me to ashes, consuming me with desire. I wondered why I had overlooked the mate I had right under my nose!”
She turned slack against the wall, her eyes so wide on him they went dry. She tried to say something, anything. Her mouth would utter no word. So completely befuddled by his disencumbering her mind swirled without aim.
“Please, I beg you, my beloved wife!” His head lowered, his lips almost touching her. “Let me love you with my body, let me love you with my heart, my thoughts.” He pleaded; his hoarse voice inciting. “It doesn't matter if you don't love me. I realise I have destroyed all my chances. But let me take care of you, of our children, our manor.”
And then she broke.
“Oh, Conrad!” Her arms came around his neck; she glued her body to his, her head on his shoulder. “I fear I have never stopped loving you!” Hot tears rolled abundant down her cheeks.
He took her face between his hands, a look of pure elation on his damned attractive aristocratic face. “Aurelia, my Aurelia!” He breathed out touching his forehead to hers.
“In the beginning, I reckon it was only infatuation.” Her fingers merged further in his midnight smooth hair. “But when you came back, what had been dormant resurfaced full force, transforming in real love!”
His thumbs removed her fat tears in the same moment his mouth overtook hers in a searing kiss. They kissed. Kissed. And kissed her more, not seeming to get enough.
When they came up for air, he teased. “I don’t care to hear what happened between the infatuation and the love.” Meaning her hard feelings towards him.
She giggled, hiding her face in his chest. “Not pronounceable, I assure you.”
His hand lifted her face again to him, his stance deadly serious. “I regret my mistakes with bitterness, and wish I could go back and erase them.” His eyes fast on her face. “Will you forgive me one of these days?”
She nodded twice briskly. “I am working on it.”
Her impressions about that time still jumbled inside her. She was certain that, if they nurtured their love, the horrendous time would fade in the past.
Epilogue
Two years later.
She had put the past to rest. Long ago, she concluded as she sat in the garden holding little Walter in a bundle. She had been living more a honeymoon than a marriage, she admitted, sighing. The sound of Conrad playing with their eldest, Elvira, reached her ears in that sunny summer afternoon. He had been elated with becoming a father, so dedicated to their family, she believed herself utterly lucky. Not a usual thing among fathers of her time to participate in their children’s lives so actively. He had said he would, though; and he was.
He ran around the garden causing his toddler girl to laugh delighted. Aurelia, on the other hand, goggled at him also delighted, but for rather different reasons. His tall frame bent to take Elvira on his powerful arms, his midnight hair ruffled by the breeze. The years and two children had not abated her want of him. Neither his of her. The nights proved it.
They had been a team. She overlooked the estate’s finances, while he took care of the practical matters. Thus, their assets tripled, making theirs one of the wealthiest estates in England. The tenants expressed their contentment; the Straffords could hire more staff, which freed Aurelia from the prosaic tasks, so that she directed her attention to her children. And to him, as he insisted. She smiled at this. He required a lot of ‘attention’. She would not complain, oh, no!
If anything, their intimacy increased, deepened. They used to talk openly about any subject under the sun. There seldom remained unresolved matters or pent up feelings. She counted this as one of the factors that helped her leave the past in the past, having learned from it. They had built a solid mutual trust capable of overcoming the most difficult problems.
He had insisted on her redecorating the manor after Elvira was born. This centenary baroque mansion shone with the latest fashion. As a final touch, there was the portrait Conrad had commissioned from one of the most skilled painters in the realm. The life-size piece of art hung in the dining room so every guest would witness the proof of his devotion to her. She would commission one for him, so she would reciprocate the honour; she planned smug.
They made sporadic trips to London to enjoy part of the Season. There, they attended the opera, the theatre and accepted invitations for tea parties, garden parties or balls. Lord and Lady Strafford made no secret of the fact they preferred their countryseat. Well, they made no secret of their devotion to each other either, ignoring the envious looks of the Ton.
Conrad approached the tea table where she and three-month-old Walter were. Elvira sitting on his shoulders, followed a butterfly with curious attention. Dark eyes on his wife, he lowered his daughter to the grass. The girl chased after the butterfly.
A shrill crossed her as she devolved his hungry stare. “Good the other ladies cannot see you now.” She commented huskily.
“Why is it, wife?” As if he did not know.
“They would be ogling you with devouring eagerness.” As she herself had been doing until now.
“My jealous she-wolf protecting her territory, is she?” An amused glint in his eyes.
Her eyes would spit fire on said ladies at every social occasion, because Viscount Strafford had become one of the most coveted men in Suffolk and, certainly, England. When he realised how she felt, he started teasing her, flattered by her zeal. He acted no different towards her, though, which made them utterly attached to each other.
Conrad called the nanny who took the children away for their tea. He had never imagined he would be so happy in his life. The arrival of his children completed his bliss; his love for them and his precious wife growing by the minute. He considered himself the most fortunate of men, for he had almost thrown everything away with his immaturity. He was grateful to his Viscountess for having kept his manor, and thus him, on track.
He knelt before her on the chair. “You don’t need to be jealous.” He took her face in his hands. “I am all yours!”
She took his face in her hands. “I will keep it that way!”
Smiling, he possessed her mouth.
The End
About the Author
I come from a multi-cultural family. I graduated in History and got a Master degree in British Empire. I have worked as an English and History teacher at high schools. I got married to a
Norwegian and moved to Norway, where I have lived for three years. Writing has been my passion since I was thirteen.
Other Books by Lisa Torquay
Build It Higher (Contemporary Romance)
Her Irresistible Guardian (Contemporary Romance)
For the Earl’s Taking
The Lady and the Desert Scoundrel
The Forbidden Duchess
Claiming His Estranged Viscountess
Igniting the Countess
Duke of Treason
Connect with Lisa Torquay
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