Mr. Gaines, as thin as his wife was stout, solemnly recited the words that would tie Taylor to Blake forever. A glance toward her groom confirmed the reason. Blake looked every inch the titled gentleman, from his fine jacket and breeches to his shining boots. Handsome and regal in his bearing, she couldn’t quiet the flicker of excitement in her heart. She was to be Blake’s wife!
When she’d come to The Hideaway she hadn’t dared to hope for anything other than a safe place to live and a way to find Robert, despite her tender and long-held feelings for Blake. And though he’d made his own expectations for their marriage clear, she’d keep the sad truth from the kind man joining them in matrimony and the others who filled the church. But, oh, how she loved Blake. With all of her heart.
The vows and a chaste kiss exchanged, their names signed in the large book, and the deed was done. She turned to face her husband. The expression on Blake’s face surprised her, the lines bracketing his mouth had eased considerably. She didn’t know whether relief or resignation filled him now, and wouldn’t attempt to figure it out like she had his ledgers.
Taylor managed a smile for the well-wishers as they took a hasty leave of the church. Once outside on the steps Blake helped her with her cloak, his hands brushing her nape as he brought his lips to her ear.
“Our breakfast awaits, wife,” he said.
The address thrilled her to her toes. She belonged to him. And though he might deny it with his words of honor and duty, he belonged to her. He turned to her and kissed her, his mouth lingering on hers this time. She brought her hands to his chest, curling her fingers around the lapels of his jacket. At his sharp intake of breath, she knew he was affected as well. When he lifted his head, the intent in his beautiful blue eyes left no more question in her mind. He still wanted her. Her. Taylor Shelby Thompson.
“Then let’s not keep Mrs. Mott waiting,” she said.
A slow smile curved his mouth and he nodded. He released her and she found herself enveloped against another broad chest.
“Welcome, sister,” Jason said. He dropped a kiss on her brow. “I hope my brother realizes what a lucky man he is.”
Taylor flushed hotly at that compliment. “I do so wish Father were here,” she said with a catch in her voice. “And . . . Robert.”
Blake turned her to face him once more, gently stroking her cheek. “Your father would be most proud, I daresay. And Robert would no doubt tease you mercilessly. And me.”
That caused her to smile. Blake took her elbow and led her away from his brother, who took long strides to keep up with them.
“In a hurry, little brother?” Jason asked.
Blake quieted Jason with a glare Taylor chose to ignore. “When you stood there beside me at the altar, Taylor,” he began in a low voice. “So regal, so beautiful in your dress of lace and satin, I felt like the luckiest of men.”
“Thank you, Blake.”
“I take the vicar’s words to heart, I vow. I’ll keep you with me forever.”
Forever? That was a long time to be in a marriage with a man who didn’t love her. She pushed such dour thoughts aside as they neared The Hideaway.
“After you, Taylor,” he said, waving his wife before him.
She hoped the smile she gave him spoke of more than politeness. Heat simmered between them, heat awakened by that incredible kiss outside the church. This was their wedding day, to be followed after an interminably long passage of time by the wedding night. Her body trembled at the thought of Blake loving her again.
Perhaps duty was not such a terrible thing after all. They entered the pub and set about their wedding breakfast.
* * *
Blake paced the chamber, his dressing gown whipping around his long legs as he measured the space. Taylor was in the dressing room, preparing herself for her first night as his wife. After he’d taken her virginity there in the big blue bed, he hadn’t realized his hunger for her would grow stronger. He’d offered for her in desperation, had promised her anything to keep her from London, and the vow had rung true. Decadent pleasures, intense passion, had followed. And then his self-avowed celibacy, which made him yearn all the more for her. But tonight he’d have her again.
His body hardened and he eyed the closed dressing room door with speculation. What the devil was keeping her? The maid, Sally, had been instructed to move Taylor’s belongings to his chamber. Surely the pretty nightgown and wrapper he’d arranged to be delivered from the dressmaker’s was ready for her.
He glanced around the room. A vanity now sat beside the window, freed from its dusty exile in the previously-unexplored attic of the pub. Cleaned and polished, it sat at the ready for Taylor’s ribbons and gewgaws and whatever other notions a lady needed. The dressing room would suit the two of them. And the sitting area of the room, while comfortable, would benefit from the addition of Taylor’s appearance. Enough of this nonsense. He took a step toward the dressing room, coming to a standstill as at last the knob turned.
Taylor stood framed in the doorway, her golden curls a halo around her flushed and beautiful face. The gown and wrapper adorned her with ruffles and lace, and despite the loveliness of the garment he longed to tear it from her. Lord, he was in a bad way.
“Taylor,” he breathed.
She smiled at him, the expression tentative. Tiny steps brought her closer to him and Blake held himself still in an effort to keep from grabbing her and throwing her on the bed.
“I’m ready for bed,” she said.
He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly. He hadn’t thought it possible to grow any harder than he already was, but he nearly parted his robe. “I’m not a clod,” he muttered. “I’m not a clod.”
Chapter 17
Taylor eyed him closely, trying to understand his odd murmurings. He opened his eyes and stared at her, his body held stiff. The dressing gown wrapped his muscular frame, the deep blue satin the color of his sparkling eyes. His feet were bare, and she assumed by the bit of black hair she glimpsed on his chest that the rest of his body beneath the satin was just as naked. Her body flushed with heat, her knees weakening. Surely it wasn’t sinful to desire one’s husband. She pushed aside her recollections of that morning in his office, when he’d so coldly stated his reasons for marrying her. Trevor’s behavior. Robert’s disappearance. Blake’s damnable honor!
He took a step toward her at last, one long leg bared nearly to muscled thigh, and she quickly dismissed her mind’s wanderings for her body’s desires. Gentlemen did so all the time, didn’t they? Hadn’t Blake been intimate with Polly and then shared nothing more save for a nod of greeting the next morning? But that wasn’t her. She couldn’t be intimate with Blake and not have her heart engaged. Her love and desire for him were interminably entwined.
When his fingers closed on her waist she leaned toward him. His mouth found hers and she opened beneath him. Their tongues stroked each other, firing her senses as his hands untied her wrapper. With a whisper the garment fell to pool around her ankles. His hands burned her flesh through her nightgown, cupping her bottom as she pressed up against him. Proof of his arousal pushed against her belly and she rubbed against it.
He raised his head and moaned softly. “My God, love.”
Emboldened by his response, she let her hands trail beneath his robe. His hard chest, covered with crisp hairs, made her palms burn. His robe joined hers on the floor and she ran her eyes over him, gasping at his blatant arousal. She felt his deep chuckle beneath her hands and bowed her head.
“Don’t tease me, Blake,” she said.
He caught her hands and brought them to his mouth. “Ah, I shall tease you, wife,” he vowed, nipping at her fingertip. “And you will love it.”
A gasp escaped her as he swung her up into his arms, holding her tightly against him as he strode to the bed and laid her in the center. True to his word, his mouth, those incredibly mobile lips, teased every inch of her body. He suckled one breast as his strong fingers stroked her center. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to him, ba
rely aware of her exclamations of pleasure. He laughed again, the sound harsh and incredibly arousing. He spread her legs, grasping each of her thighs in a firm, gentle hold as his mouth began its decadent descent.
“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, both his words and his breath hot on her flesh.
She fought any shame the position might have afforded, bliss swiftly replacing discomfort. All of his movements were different from the first time, smooth and insistent instead of frantic. She began her ascent. His fingers stroked her as his tongue worked its magic, and she cried out his name as pleasure wracked her body.
Blake gentled his touch as she trembled, dropping a kiss on her belly. Taylor in her release was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. She opened her eyes and let out a sigh. Leaning up on her elbows, she offered him a blush and a smile. Such a wanton position, sprawled beneath him, so soft and willing. Duty might have drawn him here. But desire drove him now.
He sealed his mouth to hers as he smoothly entered her. Every inch of him felt her, the very center of her that caressed him with its heat. He stared down at her, at the way her body bowed beneath him as her hips met his thrusts. Her lids drifted closed once more.
“No,” he bit out. “Look at me.”
Those blue-gray eyes snapped open, and he nearly climaxed at the passion evident there. Every motion reflected in her gaze, every burst of pleasure he felt around his shaft was there for him to see. He couldn’t stand the pressure much longer. He grabbed her bottom and twisted on the bed, holding her above him.
“Blake!” she gasped.
He took her hands and kissed each of her palms before bracing them on his chest. He slowed their pace by holding her hips, teaching her the rhythm that would send them both into satisfaction. Her eyes held understanding as she moaned with the pleasure of it. She arched her body above him, moving at last of her own accord as time and again her heat clutched at him. His hands moved to her breasts, teasing and fondling as the most arousing gasps escaped her rosy lips. His blood pounded in his ears as he struggled to hold onto his control. When she tightened around him, so close to her own release, he gave up at last, grabbing her hips once more and driving deep and high within her. She cried out and he shouted her name as he exploded.
Taylor collapsed on his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. She still held him, deep within her, but he had no urge to set her from him.
“Blake,” she whispered. “I didn’t know . . .”
He could feel the heat of her blush on his chest and grinned like a fool. Sobering his expression, he caught her chin and lifted her face to his.
“There are many ways for a man and woman to come together, love.” Her gaze skittered away from his and he knew she thought of his past liaisons with women more skilled in the art of lovemaking yet less arousing than his lovely bride. “I shall delight in teaching you every one of them.”
She brought her eyes to his once more, and that bravado he’d glimpsed time and again showed in the tilt of her chin. “I would like that.”
He showed her his smile then and was rewarded with hers. She eased off of him and he held her close as they settled themselves for their first night together as husband and wife. The sense of rightness that struck him that morning filled him now. They would do well together. “Good night, Taylor.”
He couldn’t resist kissing her gently now, in the aftermath of their incredible passion. Her lips clung to his for a sweet moment, then she cuddled closer and that odd tightening came in his chest.
“Good night, Blake.”
* * *
Taylor woke, once again finding herself in the splendor of Blake’s bed. Her husband rested beside her, a big warm body all long limbs and smooth muscles. He still slept, she saw. His thick lashes shielded his eyes, and in repose his face lost its rigidity. So beautiful, she mused as she ran her finger over his perfect mouth. Shame should heat her face when she recalled all he’d done to her with that gorgeous mouth. But God save her, she couldn’t summon it. Her gaze drifted toward where she knew his manhood rested beneath the linens. She bit her lip as she wondered about that particular manner of lovemaking. Would he like it if she were to . . . ? Now her cheeks flooded with heat and she withdrew her hand.
No tender words were shared last evening, she recalled as she settled back against her pillow. She shared passion with her husband, that was true. He had sworn before God and his brother to keep himself only to her, and she knew him to be a man of his word. His loyalty was secured. His gifted mind and fit body were attached. But his heart? No, she wouldn’t dwell on it. She’d made a wondrous match, one which would have pleased her father and brother though she hadn’t dared aspire to it. She’d try to be the wife Blake deserved, and would be content once they found her brother.
“Good morning,” Blake said.
She turned with a jerk toward her husband. Those eyes that had seen all of her last night sparkled at her as he grinned. She drew the linens to her chin. “Good morning, Blake.”
He stretched his arms over his head and gave a lusty yawn. “My God, I slept like the dead.” He gave her another grin. “I daresay my bride wore me out.”
Taylor returned the expression even as she felt a flush on her face.
He wrapped those strong arms around her and drew her closer. “And how, pray, did you pass the long night, love?”
“Very well,” she said with a smile.
He settled her closer to him and amazement filled her as his arousal pressed against her belly. She must have worn her surprise on her face for he gave her a slow nod.
“A most pleasing notion strikes me,” he said.
Her body tingled at every point that touched his; her nipples hardened and desire filled her. At her tentative nod of agreement he turned and pinned her beneath him. She set aside any reservations about the nature of their marriage as he wove his particular magic upon her body and mind.
* * *
Blake shuddered with his release, buried deep within his wife’s delectable body. Coming awake the moment she’d touched his face, he’d watched from beneath his lashes as she looked at his body. Last night her enthusiasm had been both a surprise and a treat, and the contemplation on her sleep-softened face this morning had awakened the desire within him. Ah, to wake each morning in such a manner.
He kissed her and sat up. She let out a tiny yawn and opened her eyes. That pull, the lure of a heart so tender and true as Taylor’s, clutched at him. Duty and honor, he silently chanted. Giving her a cocky grin, he gestured toward the dressing room.
“I yield to you this morning, wife,” he said. “Pray, ready yourself for our day.”
Taylor wrapped the loose linens around her body and stood beside the bed. He was amazed to see bashfulness when a moment earlier she’d been uninhibited in her passion. The sheet trailing after her, she took graceful steps into the dressing room and closed the door with a small click. Blake dragged his fingers through his hair and let out a breath.
“My God, what have I gotten myself into?” he said under his breath.
Loud knocking came to the door.
“Brother?” Jason’s voice boomed through the wood panel. “Sister? Are you not awake at this late hour?”
“Go away, you bloody—”
“Your breakfast awaits you!” Jason laughed.
Blake cursed and swung his legs over the bed. Taking a cue from his wife, he wrapped a sheet around his waist and strode to the door. He pulled it open to find his brother grinning like a fool in the corridor.
“Jason.”
The viscount’s eyes darted about the room.
“She’s dressing, you rogue,” Blake said.
Jason laughed again and waved his hand. Annie entered at his bidding, carrying a tray laden with dishes and baskets and a teapot. She placed it on the little table in front of the hearth and curtseyed, offering him a saucy smile.
“Mornin’, Thompson,” she said.
“Good morning,” Blake grumbled. “Tha
nk you.”
The serving girl left and yet his brother still stood there. Blake arched a brow at him. “Was there something you wanted, Jason?”
His brother’s expression sobered and he leaned toward him. “Is all well, brother?”
Irritation fled in light of Jason’s concern for Taylor. That he couldn’t fault.
“Very,” Blake said.
Jason nodded at last and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll have it all, Blake. Would that I could be as fortunate.”
Again, Jason made that allusion to a past love so out of character for his reputation.
“Jason, if you ever wish to speak of it—” At his brother’s swift shake of his head, Blake let the subject drop. “Go then,” he ordered with mock-severity. “My wedding breakfast awaits, as does my splendid bride.”
Jason regained his good humor and bade him farewell. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, turning to face Blake once more. “I’ll take my leave of The Hideaway this afternoon, brother. I take it you and Taylor will be among the living at that late hour?”
Blake laughed and closed the door on him. At a sound behind him, he turned to find his bride. A lovely dress of peach hugged her curves. No doubt another of Mrs. Smythe’s creations so well-suited to Taylor’s glowing beauty. She raised her hand to her hair, still loose in an artful mass of curls reaching nearly to her waist. That peculiar fluttering in his belly returned. Hunger, no doubt.
“I thought to wait to summon Sally,” Taylor offered. She glanced at the table, her mouth an O of appreciation. “Breakfast smells wonderful.”
Blake nodded dumbly. She wore no stays. Again. Suddenly aware of his own lack of attire, he tightened his hold on the sheet and took quick steps toward the dressing room. “Pray, don’t wait for me, Taylor. I’ll be but a few minutes.”
She nodded and settled her lovely self on one of the large chairs. Leaving her to pour the tea, he closed himself into the dressing room and shook his head in befuddlement. Setting about the mundane duties of readying for the day, he sought to put aside the sensations that filled him this morning.
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 16
