Beast of Beswick

by Amalie Howard

  “She’s wonderful,” Astrid declared loyally, but then she giggled again. “Do you know she embroiders male organs?”

  Thane coughed as his mouthful went down the wrong way.

  “The phallus,” she added casually, as if he didn’t know what a bloody male organ was. His own eavesdropping organ perked up in his trousers. “Penis, if we’re being pedagogic,” she went on thoughtfully.

  He choked, unsure if his arousal was because of the first word or the last. He must be the only man on the planet who found his wife’s brain darkly erotic. “Astrid, you cannot say such things.”

  “Why? You are my husband.”

  “Because, my little tease, you are driving me—and my variously named male parts—to purgatory.”

  She rose to her feet with a grin. “Good, now come and finish undressing me. I cannot breathe in these stays. And I don’t want to be forced to use the filthy words I’ve read that describe male parts to get you to obey.”

  Thane swallowed hard. He wanted to hear all the foul words falling from her sweet lips, but he wanted her disrobed more. She toed off her slippers while his fingers fumbled at the tiny cloth-covered buttons down the curve of her spine. Before too long, the gorgeous midnight-blue gown pooled into a puddle at her feet. He unlaced her stays and stared at the soft transparent linen, the outline of her body a fascinating shape beneath it, before kneeling to untie her garters and roll down her stockings.

  “Will you undress as well?” she whispered.

  Everything inside of him shut down.

  Going to the ball and baring his heart in a public courtyard had been child’s play compared to this moment. Thane felt the familiar sickness rise in his chest at the thought of what she was asking and the horror that lay under his clothing. It was too bright, much too bright. He couldn’t extinguish the hearths—they threw too much light. His body poised to flee, and then Astrid placed a hand on his cheek.

  “You don’t have to, darling.”

  Thane felt like a leaf caught in a storm. He was terrified, but he didn’t want any more walls between them. And to do that, he would have to drop his. All of them.

  Slowly, without a word, he unbuttoned his coat and then his waistcoat. He shucked off his boots and stockings and pulled off his cravat. All the while, she watched him, her eyes never leaving his, sending him silent assurances that she was there. His hands shook as he pulled his shirt over his head. He heard her soft gasp, and he shut his eyes, only to feel her warm arms sliding about him and holding him tight. It wouldn’t be an easy sight to bear, not even for a seasoned veteran of war, but she did not flinch. Not when she would have seen the tattered mass of his back and side, the gouges and missing chunks, and the grisly tapestry that bound it all. He was not fit for a lady’s eyes.

  “I love you,” she whispered, her lips kissing the ugly scar that ran down the entire left side of his rib cage. “I love you so much.”

  And Thane wanted to weep. His hands crept around her—this slip of a woman who healed him in so many ways—and he felt whole. He felt loved.

  After a while, she released him, and the saucy minx lifted her eyebrow. “You’re not going to stop there, are you?”

  “Astrid.”

  “Don’t Astrid me,” she shot back. “I want to see it all. Now, your duchess commands you to strip.”

  Obligingly, Thane shed his trousers, and he had the distinct pleasure of seeing her shocked speechless, her eyes goggling. “It’s rude to stare, Lady Beswick.”

  “Th-That’s been inside me?” she sputtered. “You have got to be joking. There’s no way that thing—”

  “Cock,” he supplied helpfully.

  Her throat worked, and she licked her lips. “Whatever it is, a bloody rooster for all I care. There’s no way that’s fitting anywhere.”

  “I’ve already been inside you, darling. Several times.”

  “You must have been smaller those other times.” Her face burned hot. “Maybe we should turn off the lights. I didn’t realize you were protecting me from bloody Goliath all along.”

  “I’ve named my horse Goliath, not that.”

  He laughed and bent to take her lips in a long, sweet kiss. His wife was panting by the time he was done, her eyes glazed.

  “Well, I’m going for a swim,” he said huskily. “When you’re done being a cowardly little chicken, feel free to join me.”

  …

  “Chicken?” she retorted. “I’m not the one walking around with a fowl in his trousers.”

  “Cock, my love.”

  Astrid forgot about his impressive front as she watched those scored but taut buttocks walk away and felt her own body grow exceedingly damp. Lord above, he was spectacular. Even with all his terrible scarring, he was so virile, so devastatingly masculine, that she was having a hard time breathing. Or thinking. Or doing much of anything at all.

  And that wasn’t just because of the jutting appendage that had made her lose her breath. Though that in itself was remarkable. Her husband was nicely formed. Her breasts tingled, and the space between her legs went molten. She watched those muscular thighs of his bend and flex as he climbed into the pool, and she sighed. His legs, she noticed, were as badly scarred as his back, his stomach and chest the only places that had escaped serious injury. He probably would have died if his stomach had been punctured. A red lattice of vines traversed his hips, thighs, and buttocks. It was truly a wonder that he had survived.

  She strolled over to the edge and sat, her legs dangling into the water, and watched him. He moved like a fish, cleaving through the water with ease, until he went under and resurfaced at her calves. He wedged his big body between her knees, bracing his arms on either side of them. Astrid leaned down to kiss him as he pushed up out of the water, and she tasted salt.

  “Why is it salted?”

  “It’s irrigated from the ocean,” he said, slipping back down into the water but staying between her swinging limbs. “We are close enough to use water from the river mouth at the southerly end of the property. It’s ingenious, the design,” he explained, pointing at the large currently closed spigots on either side. “I got it from a Turkish friend of mine whose family built baths for centuries. That one releases the water back to the sea so the pool can be cleaned, and that one refills it.” He grinned, gesturing at the glowing fireplaces. “The hearths keep it warm with in-ground copper piping.”

  “It’s incredible,” she said.

  “Thank you. It’s the only thing that helps with the pain when it gets too much to bear.”

  Astrid trailed her fingers through his wet hair, skimming the patch on his scalp that the slick strands no longer concealed. And then whisper-soft, down his brow to the scars on his cheek. “Do they hurt?”

  “Yes, but not as much since I met you.”

  She frowned. “How is that possible?”

  “My physician is of the astonishing opinion that a positive outlook can affect one’s health for the better. I thought he was headed for Bedlam, but I suppose he may be on to something after all. I’ve never felt like this…until you.”

  She nodded, biting into her lower lip in thought. “I’ve read that healers in the east have long believed that positive thinking is an essential key to healing. It’s been proven to be a potent pain reliever.”

  “I might need some more persuasion, Madame Scholar.” He grasped her wandering hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger and stopping at her index finger whose pad had five red spots. “What happened here?”

  “The dratted needlework.”

  Her husband grinned, a wicked light appearing in those golden eyes, as he sucked it into his mouth and made her gasp. “Perhaps you might require a more scintillating change of subject. Phallic inspiration, perchance? I’m happy to oblige my duchess with anything she needs.”

  Releasing her hand, his palms dipped to slide u
p her smooth bare calves, pushing the fabric of her chemise up her thighs and making her shiver. Then he turned and placed a kiss to the inside of one knee, making her forget her own name.

  “Astrid.”

  That’s it.

  She blinked, focusing uncooperative eyes on him. His hands skidded to her ankles and gripped gently. And then he smiled. Right before pulling her in. With a squeal, she surfaced, her mouth full of warmed saltwater, and squeezed water out of her eyes. “You scoundrel!”

  “Can you swim?” he asked with a worried look as his hands settled around her waist.

  She shot him a smirk. “Does a fish have gills? There was a pond on the Everleigh estate when I was a girl.”

  He laughed. “Let me guess—you wanted to do whatever the boys did.”

  “Correct.” She pushed off his body in a glide. “I was the best swimmer of all the boys and could hold my breath the longest.”

  His powerful arms windmilled as he swam to her in three easy strokes. “Shall we put that to the test?”

  And then she was the recipient of the sweetest, hottest, wettest kiss as he sank them both beneath the surface of the water. Her legs weaved between his, the water making the coarse male hair on his thighs feel impossibly sleek. He was hairless in patches where his scars stretched but no less manly for it.

  Astrid felt his hands at her thighs and the hem of her sodden chemise scraping up along her body as he divested her of the last of her clothing, breaking the kiss only to pull it over her head. Then it was pure heaven as his big, warm body met hers skin to skin, chest to chest, and still, they kissed, an endless tangle of lips and tongues.

  She felt him hard against her body and moaned into his mouth softly as he pushed them back to the surface in a shower of droplets. His hands wandered along the length of her back, gliding over smooth, wet skin, down to the curve of her buttocks to hitch one leg over his hip. She gasped at the sudden feel of the broad crown of his erection nuzzling into her sex.

  “I want you,” he whispered, kissing her nose.

  “Then take me.” She wriggled her hips, making him hiss as the head of him notched in slightly.

  Bringing her to the side of the bathing pool, Thane’s palm brushed against her belly and over her breasts, then down to the other thigh, which he hefted to wrap around his waist. Bending his head, he caught a taut nipple into his mouth and sucked hard as he drove up with his hips, spearing himself into her body.

  The combination of his powerful body, the feel of him thrusting into her, his marauding mouth, and the sleekness of the water made the experience the most erotic thing Astrid had ever felt. She felt him everywhere. The water against her skin amplified every sensation, swilling between their sliding bodies and creating a slippery friction that made every inch of her feel ferociously alive.

  “See?” he murmured. “We are a perfect fit.”

  “I don’t know why I doubted you.”

  He smirked. “Men are always right, likely due to the smaller, weaker female brain.”

  She squeezed her inner muscles together, wringing a groan from him. “What was that?”

  “Men are superior in every way.”

  She tightened again and made his eyes dilate so much that the black of his pupils nearly swallowed the gold. He retaliated by thrusting hard into her, making her gasp as he filled her to the brim.

  God, she loved him to absurdity. Dueling with him. Making love with him.

  “Thane,” she said, cupping his jaw. “This feels incredible, but I want to see you.”

  Thane waded to the steps at the near end and, without breaking their seam, walked them slowly over to the chaise. Every rocking step made Astrid shudder as he shifted inside her, and by the time he sat on the sofa with her on his lap, she was a quivering, whimpering mess.

  “I’m going to…oh…”

  Her release came upon her in a rush so intense that she went blind for a full second. It was like being at the center of the sun. Pleasure streaked through her body in hot golden waves, centering at her groin and shooting into her breasts, until she sobbed his name and collapsed against him.

  “I love when you come,” he said, and she felt him throb within. “It feels incredible when I’m inside you, but I love to see your face.”

  “I love your face,” she whispered, kissing him. Kissing his scars and his eyes and his brow. Leaning back, her hands wandered down his damp injured left side and stroked over the ridges that wound around to his ravaged back. Her fingers trailed over him, mourning his pain, worshipping his strength, and loving him.

  Her husband was watching her, breath ragged and eyes shadowed. His pitted flesh flinched at every caress, but he made no move to stop her exploration. Finally, she raised her hand to his heart, feeling the steady thud against her palm.

  “Mine.”

  “Always,” he whispered back.

  Looking into his eyes, she moved, lifting her hips and sliding back down upon him. Astrid made love to her husband slowly, her eyes never leaving his—ice-blue claiming brilliant gold with every stroke, with every escalating heartbeat. And when his eyes closed and his hips rolled upward with frantic stabs as he neared completion, she moved to lift off him.

  “No,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands seizing her hips and locking her into place.

  “But, Thane, you don’t want—”

  He took her lips and poured himself into her. “I want it all.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Afterward, when they lay snuggled together and wrapped in plush toweling while snacking on grapes from their leftover meal, Thane felt his wife look up at him. He smiled. “Spit it out,” he said. “I can see those wheels in your brain turning like frantic little cogs.”

  “You said you didn’t want children.”

  “I thought I didn’t.”

  Forehead creased, she pinned her lip between her teeth. “So what changed?”

  Thane felt all his old fears rise up into his throat, and he drew a deep breath. Astrid loved him. His courageous wife wouldn’t turn tail and run. Either way, he already decided he wanted no secrets between them, and she had already trusted him with all of hers.

  “I did, I suppose. I was so afraid of the future—any future—that I couldn’t appreciate the present and what I had in front of me. I was letting fear defeat me.”

  She lifted up slightly to kiss him. “Love can be scary, too. Opening yourself up and being vulnerable to another person is frightening in itself. I’d locked my heart away for a long time, and until you, I didn’t know that I could trust anyone with it. It still terrifies me, knowing that it’s in the keeping of someone else.” She pursed her lips. “Are you still afraid?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  Astrid wrapped her legs and arms around him. “Then, I shall have no choice but to surround you with as much love and passion and happiness as possible. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re so fierce,” he said, kissing her. “Have I told you how much I love that about you? Duchess of the indomitable spirit.”

  “I aim to please my duke.” She nibbled his lower lip and drew his tongue into her mouth, feeling his length surge against her thigh. “That feels promising.”

  “You are insatiable.”

  She licked a hot path on his shoulder and bit gently. “For you.”

  Thane turned them on the chaise and draped his body over hers. “You really think we have a chance?”

  His wild, beautiful, sassy duchess winked. “Does a fish have gills?”

  …

  Many hours later, satiated and replete, long after Thane had carried them both to his bedchamber, Astrid propped herself up onto her elbows, watching her husband sleep as the morning sun washed over the sky. His sensuous mouth was parted, his thick, dark eyelashes with their gilded tips resting against the top of his cheeks. Silky sable hai
r curled into his face, one muscled arm tucked under his head. He looked too delicious for words.

  He had loved her until her body felt weightless, until words had ceased to matter, and until conscious thought lost any meaning.

  “Sleep, sweet prince,” she whispered.

  Climbing out of bed as carefully as possible, she padded to her chamber and dressed in a front-fastening morning dress. She washed herself and cleaned her teeth with the water in the basin. Her hair was a mess, and without Alice, there was little she could do besides pin it into a loose knot before heading downstairs. The breakfast room was already set, and she met Fletcher in the hallway.

  “Top of the morning to you, Your Grace,” he said in an entirely too jovial voice with a smart bow.

  Astrid blushed. It seemed that there were no secrets at Beswick Park. If the duke and his duchess spent all night frolicking in the bathing pool, it would be common knowledge by morning.

  “Good morning, Fletcher.”

  “And might I inquire if His Grace is still abed?”

  Her blush intensified. “You know he is, you dreadful man. Now, will you fetch me some coffee before I expire?”

  “Certainly, Your Grace,” he said with an irrepressible grin. “Oh, and her ladyship is already at breakfast.”

  Astrid’s brows rose. Mabel had returned to Beswick Park as well? Sure enough, she was ensconced at the table being served by not one but three footmen. One of whom Astrid distinctly remembered being at the Hammerton ball, particularly because he wore different livery.

  “Good morning, Aunt.”

  “Ah, my beautiful, brave girl. You look wonderfully rested. And by rested I mean ravished.”

  “Did you return last night?” Astrid grinned, accepting a steaming cup of coffee from Fletcher.

  Mabel winked. “I only just returned.” Her amber eyes flicked to Lady Hammerton’s footman, and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Honestly, it’s a wonder I can walk.”

  “Aunt Mabel!”

  “You should be one to talk,” she said. “Fletcher filled me in. Hopefully it won’t be long before this place is filled with lots of little grandbabies for an old lady to dote upon.”