by Sabrina York
“Tell me if it hurts,” he ground out. “I’ll stop. It’ll kill me, but I’ll stop.”
“Yes, Edward.”
And he entered her.
Shards of agony showered through her as he eased deeper, filling her, stretching her, but it was not the agony she expected. It was a delicious trickle of excruciating craving—for more. “Ah!”
He stilled. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” She nibbled on his neck. “But in a delightful way.”
He growled and pulled out, then thrust again. Something astounding danced through her as he hit a spot, deep within. “Oh. Yes. Yes.”
“Good? Is it good?”
“Yes. More. More.”
He chuckled, though she could tell he was slightly distracted. His features were taut, his skin stretched over his cheeks. His color ashen. “Demanding wench. Ah!” Another plunge, another. “So tight. Jesus.”
She shuddered around him as spirals of delight rose within her. She couldn’t believe it, but she knew her crisis was rising again.
He moaned as she clenched, and his lunges deepened. They became shorter, faster, harder, each and every one hitting the mark.
She buried her face in his throat, trying to muffle her squeals. It was phenomenal, this feeling, this possession, this bliss. In and in and in. She wanted it to go on forever.
And, Lord love him, it did.
Her arse burned, as did her nipples, for with his every move, the wiry hair on his chest abraded them. But it was delicious. She loved it.
And then his strokes took on a new intensity, a harsh, desperate tenor. His cock swelled inside her and with it, the unbearable tension, the agonizing need for—
Her body seized. Everything narrowed down to one exact point of her being. That quivering place in her womb, kissed as it was by his furious thrusts. Her vision went black as delight, unlike anything she had ever known or dreamed of, took her, shook her. Wave after crashing wave of delicious delirium washed over her until there was nothing left but the awareness of his cock, jerking inside her, bathing her with warmth.
In the end, there was nothing left of her that wasn’t part of him.
Chapter Eight
Edward wasn’t sure how he came to be in the drawing room at teatime that afternoon. Normally this was a happenstance he would avoid at all costs.
It was probably Kaitlin’s fault.
After their astonishing frolic that morning, he would follow her almost anywhere. While he considered himself a man of the world, no delusion would allow him to belittle the impact of their encounter.
It had been, in a word, transporting.
Funny that. He’d been with some of the most highly trained courtesans in the world. Partaken in the most debauched activities. Had a damn lot of fun.
This had not been fun.
It had been divine. Better than divine.
He’d spent a great deal of time after she’d left his study, trying to think of a word that described what they’d shared, but he couldn’t. Every word he came up with sounded feckless and shallow.
In fact, he was feckless and shallow. When he looked on the endless parade of mindless diversions his life had become, he was mortified. What was it about her that made him look at himself with fresh eyes? What was it that made him see—finally see—what was missing?
She was no courtesan. No practiced whore. But that fuck—though he had to allow it had been much more than a mere fuck—had been the best of his life.
He wanted more.
So here he was. Following her like a dog.
Enduring anything just to have the opportunity to be with her. Look upon her glowing smile.
Yes, he would even follow her into the maw of certain doom that was teatime with the Wyeths of Perth.
They weren’t all there. Thank God for small favors. The younger ones had been taken to the park in the middle of the square by a brave and enterprising maid—who would be getting a promotion—to rain their terror on the neighbors for a while.
Only Hortense, Violet, Ned, Malcolm and of course Kaitlin and himself sat around the tea table.
She looked beautiful, serene, quietly working on an embroidery hoop as the others chatted. Edward occupied himself with devising a strategy for getting her alone again. And soon.
He should probably have her in a bed the next time. The divan had been a trifle limiting—
“Well,” Aunt Hortense gusted, scattering his thoughts to the four winds. “I had a missive from Perth.”
“Really?” Violet raised a brow.
“Apparently Agnes is on her deathbed.” Hortense poured another cup of tea.
“Finally,” Malcolm grumbled. Ned kicked him under the table.
“How many times is this?” Violet asked, selecting a lemon tart. She passed the dish to Kaitlin. As all good companions were, she was a silent mouse, there in the corner. Although her looks in his direction spoke volumes. Fortunately, the others were occupied with their food.
“Do be kind, Violet.”
“I am being kind, dear aunt. Merely asking—”
“She does nearly die with annoying frequency,” Ned observed, brushing the crumbs from his lap, although not very efficiently.
Hortense pretended to bristle. She was terribly loyal. Edward liked that about her. “Agnes has a delicate constitution.”
“She’s healthy as an ox.” This from Ned, beneath his breath.
And Malcolm’s response, “She looks like an ox.”
“Boys.” Yes. Loyal. And shrill. “She is my dearest sister.”
Malcolm snorted. “Your only sister.”
“She took me in when dear Henry died—”
“As a servant.”
Ah yes. Aunt Agnes was, altogether, an unpleasant sort. In truth, Edward could only remember meeting his father’s eldest sister once. He had the vague recollection of a quivering nose, sharp eyes and sharper words. Something like a rat terrier. She’d managed to snag a wealthy baron and had lorded it over everyone, badgering and berating anyone who chanced to wander into her path. His father was the only one who escaped her disdain, but only because he’d been better practiced at lording his position. When Hortense’s husband had died, Agnes had taken her in. As a paid companion.
She had leapt at the chance to desert her sister and come here to chaperone the Wyeths of Perth—even knowing the truth about them. That was telling.
“Nonetheless. She is on her deathbed. I shall have to go to her.”
Edward started. What? Go? Oh no. She wasn’t deserting him. Leaving him unprotected. With them.
He opened his mouth to protest, but she forestalled him with an even more horrific pronouncement.
“And you are all coming with me.”
As warbles of dissent rocked the room, panic snarled in his gut. No. No. She wasn’t taking Kaitlin. She couldn’t. He wasn’t finished with her yet. Hell, he’d barely begun.
“Silence! She’s my sister.” Hortense skated an incisive gaze around the table, goring them, each and every one. “And she is your aunt. She’s on her deathbed. You are all coming too.”
The boys groaned. Violet made a face.
“I don’t see why we should have to go,” Ned said.
“To pay your respects.”
Malcolm put out a lip and flopped back on the divan in an unbecoming sprawl. “She didn’t respect us. When our house and everything we had was sold to pay Papa’s debts, and we needed a place to stay, she turned us away.”
Hortense meticulously arranged her pearls. “She feared for her life.”
Edward swallowed his snort at the dry observation. He was really coming to like the old bat.
“Ballocks. We’re not that bad. She just didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Malcolm, watch your language.” Violet nibbled at the smile skirting her lips. She turned to her aunt. “How soon must we leave?”
Hortense grunted. “A day or two at the most. She is on her deathbed, after all. We should not tarry.”
Violet nodded, and then her gaze fell on Kaitlin. She froze. A strange expression flickered over her face and she said the oddest thing. “You cannot come, of course.”
Kaitlin flushed. Her lips parted. “Oh no. Of course not.”
Edward’s brow creased. Why could she not go?
But he didn’t ask. He didn’t want her to go.
“Too true.” Hortense narrowed her eyes. “That begs the question, where can you stay while we’re gone?”
“She can stay here.” The words were out before he even considered them. And why not? They were damn fine words. She could stay here. She should.
“Nonsense. You, my boy, are coming with us.”
“I most certainly am not.” While he did dislike lording his rank over others, there were times when it was absolutely necessary. Like now. He was not going to Scotland, not if they tied him to the coach and dragged him along behind in the dust. He was staying here. With Kaitlin.
Violet set down her teacup. “She cannot stay here with you.”
“Why do you say you in such a tone?”
Her lips flapped like a trout. “Really, Edward. You’re a single man. And something of a rake.”
“I can stay too.” This from Malcolm. Edward glared him down.
“You’re not staying if I have to go.” Ned crossed his arms.
Violet ignored them both. “Edward, I cannot fathom what you’re thinking.”
“I fail to see the issue. She’s a hired companion, not a highborn lady who needs to guard her sterling reputation.” This, he tossed out without thought. In retrospect, he should have thought. It was curious how both Violet and Kaitlin averted their gazes. He winced. He had not intended to insult her.
Then Violet’s eyes lit. “She can stay with Helena and James.”
Edward blinked at the suggestion—because it surprised him that hearing her name didn’t make him ungodly melancholy. It usually did. He rather liked the freedom from that melancholy. “They’re on their honeymoon.”
“Oh. Drat. Of course.” Violet nibbled her lip. “Then she can stay with Eleanor.”
“At Ulster House? With Ulster?” Edward’s skin crawled. Ulster was singularly the most depraved and wicked person he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Violet stilled. Her gaze flicked to Kaitlin. “No. Of course not.”
“She can stay here. Under my protection.” He flicked a look at Kaitlin. She interpreted it correctly and flushed. “She shall be perfectly safe.”
“I’ll be fine, Violet.”
Still, Violet balked. “There should be a chaperone.”
“I’ll stay.” Malcolm again.
“You’re not staying!” All three of them, Hortense, Violet and himself, bellowed the exact same words in a chorus. Malcolm put out a lip.
Kaitlin cleared her throat. “As his Grace said, a companion does not require a chaperone.”
“But—” Whatever it was Ned had been about to say, Kaitlin glared it away.
They fell into an odd silence, all of the Wyeths of Perth exchanging speaking glances around the table. Edward had the distinct impression there was something not being said—yet quite clearly communicated amongst them.
He shot an inquisitive glance at Kaitlin. She tipped up her chin in that daring, indomitable way she had. The look that passed between them was scalding.
“I’ll be just fine.”
“But Kaitlin, darling, what shall you do without me?” Violet wailed. “You’ll be bored to tears.”
Oh, he could think of something for Kaitlin to do. The prospects rained down upon him until he was swimming in a pool of possibilities.
He wondered how soon he could get them all out of the house. Perhaps he could help them pack—
“I don’t know.” Kaitlin pursed her lips to hide a slightly fiendish smile. “I’ll probably just do some reading…” She flicked a teasing glance around the assembly, just barely brushing him with it. But he knew it was for him. All of it.
And there, in the drawing room, over tea with his relations, he burned.
* * * * *
It took them three days to leave. Mostly because Tay and Hamish found an inspired place to hide. Sean would probably have joined them if the trunk in the attic could have held one more.
But Hortense was relentless. Like a general planning a battle, she took the reins, and command of every member of Edward’s staff. A flurry of packing and last-minute shopping—and searching—ensued. Everyone was so busy, including Kaitlin, there was no time for them to be together. Each night, everyone fell into their beds exhausted.
Except Edward. He wasn’t exhausted. He was restless.
Then again, he didn’t do much. His staff, however, was quite enthusiastic in their efforts. Perhaps a little too enthusiastic. As though they couldn’t wait for the Wyeths of Perth to leave.
But then, he could understand. He felt on pins and needles at the realization that soon—soon—he would have the house, and Kaitlin, all to himself.
Still, their leave-taking was surprisingly difficult.
They all assembled in the front courtyard that morning.
Sean and Dennis were sullen, but both Ned and Malcolm took it like men, shaking Edward’s hand and saying their farewells as though they were heading for the gibbet. Hamish and Tay simply wept.
It was Violet who nearly did him in. She enfolded him in an effusive hug and held him for a very long time. “I shall miss you, Edward,” she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’d never had anyone to miss him before, so he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Thank God his father had drilled politesse into him since birth.
He kissed her gloved fingers and murmured, “I shall miss you as well.” And oddly enough, he meant it.
She hugged Kaitlin too, with equal fervor. He noticed Kaitlin got two kisses. One on each cheek. “Do be good,” Violet said.
“Of course.”
Then Malcolm tried to give Kaitlin a kiss, and it wasn’t on the cheek.
She stomped on his foot.
“Come along now,” Hortense warbled, herding them toward the carriages. Edward had procured three for them, two comfortable traveling coaches and one for the servants and baggage. He had also arranged for accommodations at decent inns along the way, paying for their keep and meals in advance.
Not that he was worried about them.
But traveling could be dangerous.
It took a while for everyone to get settled—Tay kept trying to escape. But finally they were all ensconced. The driver of the first carriage cracked his whip and they were off.
Edward and Kaitlin stood on the steps of Wyeth House and waved as they trundled down the drive calling their goodbyes, still waving long after the last coach disappeared from sight.
She sighed. “I shall miss Violet.”
“As shall I.”
“I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
“I’m sure they shall.” Far too soon. He glanced at her. “I’ve missed you.”
Her smile was charming. And a little naughty. It sent a thrill skating through him. “They will be back soon,” she repeated. “We shouldn’t waste any time.”
He threw back his head and laughed. God, he adored her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, right here on the street. But he couldn’t do that. She was only a companion, but he still had a care for propriety. “Let’s go inside.”
“Yes. Some light…reading, perhaps?”
He grinned. “Lead on, Macduff.”
Chapter Nine
They crossed the foyer and when Kaitlin would have headed up the stairs, Edward stopped her. “In the library, I think.”
“The library?” Her heart stuttered. That was not what she’d had in mind. She’d been dreaming about frolicking with him in her bed. His, perhaps. In the past few days, she’d done a lot of reading…about frolicking. She had, in fact, found a cache of books by Lord Hedon in the upstairs study. She had devoured them. And while they were all exce
edingly similar, and somewhat predictable—about a girl who couldn’t behave and a lord to punish her—they had left her…restless.
“Mmm hmm.” His glance was wicked. “Run upstairs and fetch that book. I need to have a chat with Transom.”
She put out a lip.
He smacked her behind, but only lightly. Just enough to capture her attention. “Come along, darling. Don’t be difficult. I’ve been thinking about this for days.”
“Oh, all right.” She did as he asked, fairly sprinting up the stairs to her room to find the book he had in mind, and then sprinting back down. Still, by the time she returned, Transom had delivered a tray to the library piled with all manner of delights.
“Are you hungry, Edward?” she asked, nodding at the feast. It looked like enough for an army.
He chuckled. “That’s for later. I figured we might need sustenance. And I did not want to be disturbed.”
The way he said it, the look he shot her, sent rivulets of anticipation down her spine. It had been so long since their one glorious morning together. She could not wait for another.
“Shut the door,” he said as she entered the chamber.
She fought down a shiver and did so.
“Come here.”
She crossed the room and stepped into his arms. He kissed her. A long, lingering, delicious exploration of her mouth, then her cheek, then her neck. “God, I’ve missed your taste.”
“My taste?” She giggled.
“Yes. You taste delicious.”
“Hmm.” She went up on her toes and licked his chin. Yes, he was delicious too.
“Shall we do some reading?”
She frowned. “Really, Edward?”
“Really.” He took the book from her, found a passage and handed it back, then took a seat. “Read to me.” When she moved to sit at his side, he forestalled her. “No, darling. Stand before me while you read from the book.”
She did not know what he had in mind, but the intensity on his face stilled her protest. It sent a rain of arousal through her. “All right.” She resettled her spectacles on her nose and began to read.
