by Julia Donner
His gaze lifted and she felt scorched. For the first time, she saw why others called him the Dark Earl. The hard passion he restrained had slipped its leash, as it did in a fight. Instead of scaring her, she wished she could shout out her victory, her possession of the terrifying animal she aroused. He cupped the back of her head in one hand, watching her reactions while he filled his other hand with her breast, captured the nipple between strong fingers. When he lightly pinched, a streak of pleasure made her gasp.
The slight movement of his lips, the start of a smile, revealed his own satisfaction at giving her pleasure, the discovery of something she liked. The hand that cupped the back of her head shifted to grab a handful of hair. The gentle tug against her scalp caused her flesh to tighten, sent tingles everywhere. His lips curved into a smile. He exchanged the hand on her breast with his mouth, sucking hard.
She began to pant and stopped breathing when his fingers moved down over her stomach and between her legs. A corner of her brain realized that this was different from most wedding nights. This was not going to be an awkward, fumbling encounter, the deflowering of a precious maiden. She wanted this, all of it, whatever he could give with a desperation akin to fighting for survival.
What had those stupid girls at school been talking about? When she closed her eyes, she wasn’t going to be thinking of king and country. The darkness intensified the exquisite ache.
She flinched when his mouth suddenly released her breast and skimmed down over her belly, surprising her when his mouth replaced his hand. Shock quickly gave way to pleasure so intense she had to sink her nails into the coverlet, grip and twist to hold herself to the earth. She needed to touch him, pull him deeper, closer, but worried the frantic need would leave marks on his shoulders.
His fingers slowly pushing inside caused her to arch into the pressure. He’d startled her the first time he’d done this, but she’d had nights to yearn for him to do it again—flood her with this otherworldly straining for something just beyond her reach. And then it was there, coiling on the edge. It was too much, then he pushed his fingertips deeper, and up, and the tension within snapped. A piercing release broke free. Imprisoned by pleasure, she heard a wail inside her head, while his fingers splayed wide, spanning her belly, holding her still on the crest. The other massaged inside, wringing more pleasure until she collapsed against damp bedcovers.
Lifting heavy lids, she saw him rise up over her, impossibly large. There was so much of him, the broad stretch of his chest against her face blocked out the world, until he angled down to reach her mouth. He whispered against her lips. Why an apology? She hadn’t come fully back to earth, and didn’t understand, but knew what he wanted. It was time. She made her body relax in acceptance of the pain to come. Roughened fingertips spread her open to his entry. His body shuddered, paused against the barrier, then shoved through. She’d been told to expect terrible pain, but it scarcely hurt at all. The wonder of having him within, a part of her, absorbed the discomfort. He barely moved within her, trying not to hurt her with his size.
She raised a foot to place against his leg, to open herself for more of the intimacy, and encountered soft material. He hadn’t fully stripped and gasped when she dug her toes into his calf. The quivering intensity of his restraint sent tingling thrills along her limbs. She muffled the urge to laugh and calmed her elation, saving it for later. A smile curved her lips as she prepared to do her duty. After what he’d shown and given her moments before, any restraint on his part must not be allowed.
Her arms were partially trapped at her sides, but she managed to work herself free enough to glide her fingers across his back. He flinched, and still hesitant to hurt her, barely moved at all. Now that they were joined, her body called for movement. She planted her feet on the bed and lifted up into his slight thrusts. Because he seemed to like it when she’d done it before, she nipped the taut chest muscle by her cheek then licked.
A growl sounded near her head. She smiled against the small, hard nipple under her lips. When his body shivered and stilled, a wicked whisper inside her head told her to suck. He responded with a lunge that pushed her higher onto the pillows. Her startled choke merged with his shout, an outcry that sounded more like agony than release.
She stared, wide-eyed, at the top of his bowed head, yearning to stroke his tousled hair, but afraid to move. He’d braced his weight on arms that now trembled. A vein throbbed in his neck. Amazement kept her still, the knowledge that she had the ability to bring him to this, a form of utter surrender and fulfillment.
He carefully eased down onto his elbows, his chest still expanding and relaxing with deep breaths. He rested his forehead on hers. “That was probably not what your first experience should be.”
As shivers and tingles continued to zing through every muscle and nerve, she whispered on a shaky laugh, “It appears that neither of us are passive.”
He carefully withdrew and rolled onto his back. She hadn’t expected to feel so suddenly empty and lonely. In the silence, she examined the changes in her body. Was there something terribly wrong with her? She wanted more of what she’d just had. Did that make her an unsavory sort of female? Or was it that Bainbridge was an amazing lover? The widow certainly acted addicted to Bainbridge’s gentle yet rough sort of lovemaking. She almost felt sorry for the poor woman’s loss. Almost.
She turned her head on the pillow and watched him close his eyes to savor the wind gliding through the window. Taffy had said she should allow her husband to guide her. Should she should ask for what she wanted? He seemed to like her boldness.
“Um, Geoffrey, is it unnatural to want to experience this again, so soon after?”
He raised an arm and laid the back of his wrist on his brow. “In normal people, I suppose. Apparently, we’re not normal, but that is our affair and no one else’s. I prayed that you would be open to this side of marriage. I admit to a hunger for you that is relentless. If there is something awry with your behavior, then I share it. Right now, I’m imagining us again, in different ways.”
She pulled the sheet across her chest and rolled to her side. Propped up on an elbow, she stared at him. “There are different ways?”
His chest jerked with a sudden, silent laugh. He turned his head to look at her with a smile she’d never seen before, one that softened his sharp features. “I’ve cataloged innumerable ways. Spent entire nights imagining variations. Worked them minutely in my mind like tortured dreams over and over. You’ve no idea.”
She pouted a bit and toyed with his chest hair. “Perhaps I do. Can’t we ladies have dreams too?”
He lifted a hand in a helpless gesture and let it drop down on the coverlet. Exhaling a long sigh, he gazed up at the canopy. “It’s almost terrifying, this wanting. No quenching it. All I want is more and more. I’m afraid to look at you right now, all flushed and mussed. Can’t resist.”
She tugged on his wrist to assist in lifting his arm from his side and out of the way. Leaning into his side, she draped a leg over his thigh. “I’d like that.”
He pulled her leg higher and trailed blunt fingertips lower, over flesh still sensitive and wet. She gasped when he found a sensitive spot and circled.
“You’re sore, my Cia. I wasn’t gentle. Couldn’t be after wanting you for so long.”
Hearing that, she gave in to an instinctual urge to nip his tough shoulder. “I don’t care, Geoffrey. Use your imagination. Show me the different ways. I say, more.”
“What about Carnall? Shouldn’t we attend to our guest?”
His fingertips continued the circling motion below. She pressed into the pleasure and marveled at the shuddering tremors overtaking her body. He created this havoc, overwhelming her senses so easily.
“Guest?” Her voice sounded distant, strangely husky and frantic.
He softly laughed and increased the pressure of the relentless circles. When she started to move away from the building intensity, he held her in place. Caught in a vice of desperate need, she couldn�
��t shift her focus from the torture of his fingertips.
Low and teasing, he murmured near her ear. “We should be thinking of getting dressed. Joining our guest for dinner. Or would you rather I do this?”
Her answer came out on a gasp, “He’s old enough to feed himself. I say…more.”
The sheet she clutched got yanked out of the way. After he hauled her underneath him, he said against her mouth, “Whatever you want, my Cia. Whenever you want. I’m yours.”
Chapter 19
Leticia expected to suffer acute embarrassment when she sat with Carnall at dinner. On the way down to join him, she wished that she hadn’t asked for the smaller room in which to dine. A table that sat fifty instead of ten would provide a measure of comfortable distance. As lady of the house, her guest had to be seated nearby. Worse, it being summer, there was plenty of light coming through the windows. The shadows of muted candlelight might have concealed the ruddy marks on her neck. Bainbridge’s beard had started to emerge before the last bout of more.
Oddly, Carnal’s presence didn’t evoke the rack of exquisite embarrassment she presumed would be her lot after an afternoon of wild lovemaking. His acceptance of their newlyweds activities he took in stride. She might as well have been transported back to ancient days when the wedding party viewed the deflowering.
She hoped she didn’t look entirely denuded of virginal blossom. Bainbridge sat at the head of the table exuding a sleepy satisfaction that made their afternoon activities more apparent than the blood-spotted sheets upstairs. At least the linens were no longer publicly displayed as they had been in medieval times as evidence of maiden pulchritude.
Carnall interrupted her thoughts to say, “Appreciate your offer of a bed for the night, Countess.”
Bainbridge raised his wine glass in Carnall’s direction with a smile. “Least we could do after bringing us the license. Plenty of rooms, after all.”
Carnall looked at her. “The place is a maze with two residences adjoining. How many beds altogether?”
Leticia lifted her own goblet in Carnall’s direction. “Thirty in this part of the house. Twenty more in the old wing.”
Carnall replied, “And I return the toast by hoping you fill them with children and family.”
It flitted through her mind that at the rate she and her husband were going, they might need to build another addition. Of course, she couldn’t say such a thing to their guest and had to pinch her lips to stop from smiling. Carnall watched her with an expectant expression, which meant it was her turn to speak.
She set down her wine. “Bainbridge and I have always considered it unfortunate not to have siblings. We’ve decided on a large family.”
“Isn’t that God’s gift to bestow?” Carnall asked with a grin.
She pursed her lips and twitched one shoulder. “I should think not, if one is diligent in the trying.”
Bainbridge choked on the beef roulade. “Cia!”
Carnall pressed his serviette over his mouth and kept his head slightly bowed. Leticia had more pity for herself than for her guest when she snapped, “Oh, give over, Dominic. Laugh all you like. There’s no escaping the too apparent fact that we are newly wedded and nature has taken its nature-like course.”
Dabbing his eyes, Carnall exhaled a final laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more satisfied pair in my life. On that note, I should like to offer you my utmost consideration and privacy by letting you know I’ll be on my way at first light.”
“Dominic, that is too bad of you. How can you leave us with the impression that we’ve driven you off with our neglect of you.”
Carnall placed his hand over hers. “Lady Bainbridge, I have no doubt that Bainbridge would never leave your side for any other reason than his precious mares. Two are about to foal. Since one of them will come to me a year from now, and it is your right to have time alone together as newlyweds, I am happy to be on my way.”
“It’s still a bit of awkwardness.”
“Certainly not. I’m exceedingly happy for the both of you.” He lifted a finger in the air to indicate a pause. “And do not forget, you have all those empty beds to fill.”
Leticia wished she had something smaller than the centerpiece urn available to throw at the man’s head, but at the other end of the table, Bainbridge laughed and raised his glass again. “Huzzah! And God’s speed, my friend.”
While slicing a perfectly square portion of beef, Carnall murmured, “There you have it. Bainbridge agrees that you must be left to fulfill your duty.”
“That does it,” Leticia muttered. She used her fork tines as a slingshot to launch a pea at the miscreant’s head. The missile bounced off Carnall’s cheek. He stared in disbelief then burst into laughter.
“A hit!” Bainbridge called out and finished the claret in his glass. He motioned for more wine and stood, waiting for Carnall to join him. Peace and happiness glowed in his eyes as he toasted, “To my wife, Countess Bainbridge, defender of her house and defeater of the foe. Long may she reign.” After they sat down, Bainbridge said to Carnall, “Get on with your dinner and go to bed, my friend. The night is young.”
She choked an exasperated gasp and lobbed a pea at him. Bainbridge caught it, popped it into his mouth, and sent her naughty grin. “Eat up, my lady. You’re going to need your strength.”
“Bainbridge!”
Carnall shook his head and stood. “I beg you to take your leave before my poor nerves are entirely unraveled. Don’t worry about seeing me off. Delightful stay and all that, but I must have my sleep before the journey ahead. I’ll wake when the cock’s crowing.”
Bainbridge lunged up from his chair. “Thought you’d never take the hint and head upstairs. Safe trip and all that. I’ll send a message when it’s time to collect the yearling.” He came around the table, captured her wrist and pulled her from the chair. As he hurried her out of the room, he called over his shoulder. “Perhaps we’ll see you before then.”
Before the door closed, she saw Carnall calmly resume his seat and return to his meal. Mortified and pleased, Leticia ran to keep up with Bainbridge’s happy stride down the passages and up the stairs.
Chapter 20
Waving Carnall on his way kept them paused on the threshold until his carriage wheeled through the arched entry gate. They hadn’t waited until he was out of sight to hurry off for another bout, laughing like schoolchildren.
It had been a week since Carnall’s departure and the thrill remained, in some ways growing stronger. She never imagined that the simple act of walking would pose a problem after a wedding night with a vague ache, embarrassing and titillating at the same time. To be accurate, it had been a wedding afternoon and night. Fortunately, Bainbridge knew and invented so many different ways.
Seeped in memories that made her cheeks burn, she brushed the quill’s feather tip back and forth across her chin. Life brought so many surprises. The urgency to be with her husband, the eagerness, as if she couldn’t get enough of him, came as a perplexing discovery. Tempting thoughts kept invading her mind, crowding out the tasks that needed to be done every day. She’d much rather spend the time in the pursuit of learning all the variations on the connubial theme.
What if she sent word to the stable that she needed to speak with him?
She stared at the study’s white-painted door. How convenient that it had a lock. Yesterday, after Taffy had the room cleaned and aired, sunlight had streamed through sparkling window glass. Today, rain clouds darkened the room.
She’d come downstairs to work in the cozy study before the weather turned and now considered lighting a candle. She’d already written the letter of warning to Cousin Henry, and started on lists, but returned to daydreaming. Instead of categorizing the array of tasks that needed to be accomplished before the more serious cleaning and organizing could be tackled, she found herself drawing lazy designs on the parchment. She eventually noticed the blurring of the lines that called for the quill tip to be sharpened.
Th
ere were three drawers on each side of the desk. She started the search for a penknife on the right side but was stopped by the locked one on the bottom. Taffy had found a small set of keys while cleaning the rooms across from the master suite and assumed they belonged to Bainbridge’s mother. The silver keys rested in china dish on top of the desk. One of the keys turned the lock on the bottom drawer. Inside, she discovered a narrow, rectangular packet wrapped in faded pink silk.
Carefully lifting the package, she set it on the desk and unwrapped material that had dried and become fragile. Its contents felt lumpy and uneven. Geoffrey had been written in a graceful, flowing script on the silk. Inside was an unsealed, folded missive.
Since the packet had no evidence of ever being sealed, she gave in to curiosity and unfolded its wrapping. A single strand of pearls slid free. A sheet of paper within had been inscripted.
My dearest son, these were my mother’s then mine. Give them to your bride on her wedding day.
A blurry recollection of his mother formed, hovering on the edge of clarity. The clearest part of the recall was a smile like her son’s. The lustrous pearls spilled over the sides of her palm, creamy rounds that contained the faintest hint of pink.
Why hadn’t he given them to her on their wedding day? Perhaps he planned to wait for her birthday only two days away. Or was he so eager to claim husbandly rights that he forgot? Her lips curved into a gloating smile impossible to suppress. Her chuckle sounded loud in the room’s quiet. Muted thunder rumbled in the distance, bringing her to the present.
She rewrapped and refolded the packet, replacing it in the drawer where she’d found it. If he planned to surprise her with the lovely gift, she wouldn’t spoil his fun.
Too lazy to light a candle in the darkening room, she made herself focus. Thunder rumbled but not so vehemently that it caused concern. She’d gotten through a list of what she wanted to start in the gardens when the door opened. She looked up, expecting Taffy. Bainbridge entered, closed the door, and leaned back against the panels.
