by Em Taylor
He chuckled. Then he realised her pert little bottom was pressed against his groin. His thumb was pressed just under her breast. How did he manage to get into such a mess? Or was it a mess? It felt dashed lovely to him. Experimentally he brushed his thumb across the underside of her breast. His cock started to harden.
“My lord.” There was little censure in her words. There was definitely a lot of pleasure. He brushed his lips softly against her neck then let her go. She appeared to be gripping the bannister tighter than before.
“Go, before I forget myself and where we are.”
Emily climbed the stairs and hurried to their rooms. He had the keys, he unlocked her door and followed her inside. Planning to go to his room via the connecting door. But he had to make sure she was well.
“Let me check your hands.”
“My hands are fine.”
“Please, Emily.”
She sighed and held out her palms. They were a little red but they seemed unharmed. He lifted first one to his lips and kissed it, then the other. Her little surprised gasps sent need straight to his semi-hard length. If he was not careful, he would end up bedding her tonight. That was not the plan. She deserved better.
He dropped her hands and took a step away.
“I shall go and collect the cards from my valise, you ring for tea.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He brought back the box of cards and a book. He laid the book on a small table and put another small table between them. When the tea tray arrived, Emily poured them both a cup, added milk and sugar to both. It felt so domestic, Gideon could not help thinking that he would enjoy evenings together with his wife. Of course, the myriad of entertainments available during the Season may be exciting, but tea, and conversation with his wife, before taking her up to bed and sinking himself into her sweet body was the sort of life a man actually dreamed of.
“My lord?”
“Hmm? I mean, pardon?”
“Another card please.” He passed her a five of clubs.” Her smile of satisfaction proved her to be a terrible card player. He had eighteen. The chances of him winning this hand were pretty slim. She either had twenty, or more likely, considering her smile, twenty-one.
He laid his hand down to show her his. She triumphantly laid her hand down. He looked at the cards.
“That’s twenty-two.”
She looked at the cards, he brow furrowed.
“No, it’s n…. Oh!”
He pursed his lips in an effort not to laugh. She shook her head.
“It happens all the time in the gaming halls.”
“No doubt by men who are utterly foxed. What is my excuse?”
“You are likely tired. It has been a long day.”
“I slept a long time in the carriage.”
“Sleeping in a carriage is not as restful as sleeping in a bed. Come, stop chastising yourself for a simple mistake.”
“I am such a ninny.”
“Stop calling yourself that.”
“I feel like an imbecile.”
“You are not an imbecile because you miscounted some card, Emily.”
She stood up and walked to the window. The night was beginning to fall, she wrapped her shawl tightly around herself.
He walked to stand behind her.
“Why did I never notice you at balls or entertainments in town?”
“Because I am not a great beauty, my lord.”
“You are beautiful, but it is not how you look that stopped me noticing you. I notice most young ladies in a ballroom. Usually, of course, except those who do not wish to be noticed.”
“I do not know what you mean, my lord.”
“You sat among the wallflowers, did you not?”
She hugged her shawl tighter.
“I sat with a few friends. I do not care for dancing, my lord.”
“You do not care for it or…” He left the question hanging.
“I told you I was clumsy. In my first season, I had a reputation for standing on all the gentlemen’s toes.”
“Ah!”
“I should have told you before we eloped. I will be required to host balls in your townhouse, shall I not?”
“My townhouse is not large, my lady. We do not host balls there. Sometimes we do have a little dancing. When we go to balls, you will dance with me and you can step on my toes as much as you like.”
“You may not say that when they are blue and purple with bruises and do not fit into your fine hessian boots.”
“Then I shall stay home until they are better. It shall be worth it. I can lie abed and perhaps you can lie abed with me. There is plenty to do in bed once we are married.” Her breath hitched and since darkness was almost complete outside, the candlelight caught her reflection in the window. He could see the redness in her cheeks. “I meant reading. I could read to you. The works of Byron, or Mansfield Park.”
“Oh, I plan to read Mansfield Park soon. When we next go to London, I shall get it from the circulating library.”
“I’ll buy you a subscription at a subscription library,” he offered. She turned, her eyes lighting up.
“You would do that?”
“Of course.” He knew a subscription was slightly more expensive but really, to him it was pennies. He did not understand why she did not already have a subscription. Perhaps her brother was not as well off as he led everyone to believe. He knew the Earl of Whitsnow to nod to in the House of Lords or in White’s on the odd occasion someone took him there, but no more than that. Gideon’s club was Brooks’, so he was seldom in White’s. They did not have the same friends and they did not share the same interests. Whitsnow was a dour chap and altogether far too brooding for Gideon. Of course, the fellow had become an earl at the tender age of sixteen and was two years older than Gideon. This meant that there must be four years between Whitsnow and Emily. But there had been no rumours of financial troubles for the Whitsnow estates. There were usually rumours if one was a gambler or bad with investments. Of course, people had not told him of his father’s plight because… well, no one gossips to the kin of the subject of the gossip, far less the heir apparent.
He walked over to the table and picked up the book he had brought into her bedchamber earlier. He moved back quickly and presented it to her. “There is no need to borrow this one from the subscription library, however. It is part of our library.”
She ran her fingers over the gilt letters on the spine of the book and her eyebrows raised, her brow crinkling comically.
“Mansfield Park?”
“I bought it last time I was in Town. Sophia has already read it, I brought this and my own book along for the journey. I was not sure if you would think to bring a book to read.”
“I did not.”
“Then, if this is the sort of book you may be interested in, you are welcome to read it as we travel north.”
Her face lit up with excitement for a moment and then fell. “Thank you, but I shall be fine.”
“You said you wanted to read this, Emily.”
She gave a small deprecating laugh. “I do, but I would hate to damage your copy.”
He frowned. “Do you make a habit of damaging books.”
Her chin jutted out. “Not on purpose.”
“Accidents happen. If it gets damaged, it gets damaged.”
“I would prefer not, if it is all the same to you, my lord. Now I think it is time for bed.”
She walked over to the bell pull, rang for the maid to come and help her get ready for bed. He had been dismissed. She had damned well treated him like a servant.
“As you wish, my lady. We will rise early tomorrow so that we can take it slowly for the horses.”
“I bid you goodnight.”
He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The discussion about the book was not over but he knew when to retreat and regroup.
Chapter 12
Just for a change, it was raining when
they awoke. Emily had dressed, with the help of a maid who had styled her hair simply but prettily. Too bad she would spend most of the day in a carriage with a gentleman who was likely not pleased with her. She had dismissed him last night rather abruptly because she was embarrassed. Robert would never allow her to borrow his books which was why he had organised her a membership of the circulating libraries both in the country and in town. She was just too clumsy and he would not have her damaging his books. He also bought her the cheaper membership of circulating libraries because they were cheaper and the books were usually already slightly damaged.
They had been quiet at breakfast, Emily allowing Gideon to read the newspaper which was one day out of date. They were in a private parlour and she mused about how she could entertain herself on the long journey. She had finished the book she had been reading on the way to Beattie Park and had not brought another book with her. It had been a book which she had saved up and purchased herself. She had read it four times but never tired of it. Oh, how she would love to read Mansfield Park. No matter. She would not ruin Gideon’s books.
They climbed into the carriage and settled down, Gideon helping her off with her bonnet and him removing his hat. He tossed both on the seat in front and dug under the blanket that was sitting next to their valises.
He produced two books. He laid one on his own lap and handed her the copy of Mansfield Park he had shown her the previous night.
“Your book, my lady.”
She looked at it and then out of the carriage window.
“I would prefer not to read, my lord.”
He sighed audibly.
“I do not understand. You have professed a desire to read this book. I have a copy. Soon all my books shall be your books too, once we are wed. It is a long journey to Cumbria, I am happy to talk and play cards but even that, after a while, shall become mundane.”
“My company is mundane, my lord?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I did not say that, Emily, and you know it.”
“If I damage the book…”
“Then nothing terrible shall happen. The book shall be damaged. I shall either purchase a new copy or if it is not so badly damaged that it can go back in the library, then that is what shall happen. It is only a book.”
“But books are expensive.”
“They are meant to be read. If I thought you would wilfully damage a book then I would reconsider allowing you to read my books, but your concern about damaging them probably makes it more likely to happen. If I am not concerned, it may lead to you being less… concerned about damaging it. Please, read it and enjoy it.”
He was so kind. Not at all like Robert. Oh, she loved her brother but he was such a dry old stick.
“I… thank you,” she said, as she capitulated and accepted the book. His grin was huge and he lifted his own book. “Is this how our marriage is to be?” she asked.
“Sitting reading in a carriage in the rain. God, I hope not.”
“I meant me having to follow all of your orders.”
He pursed his lips and considered her. “Come now, Emily. You enjoyed our sparring. You were almost as aroused as I was.”
“A-a-… I apologise, my lord. What did you say?”
He chuckled. “You heard, my lady. Suddenly you have a hearing impediment and you have become coy.”
She opened her book and pretended to be engrossed looking at the title page.
He leaned close.
“I find that a book holds much more enjoyment for me if I hold it the correct way up, my lady.” His breath tickled her ear and caused her to shiver involuntarily. She snapped the volume shut, turned to him but his lips, so close to hers entranced her and his piercing green eyes were hooded and seductive. “Tell me you were not aroused when you argued with me.”
“I would not even know what aroused meant, my lord.”
“Excited, scintillated, wanting more, a heightened state of desire.”
“Desire for what?”
“It matters not for now, you desire me, do you not?” He lifted his hand and cupped her chin, stroking her cheek. She leaned into the touch. “You desire my touch.”
She nodded and he pressed his lips to hers for a few moments then pulled away.
“I cannot wait to feel your touch on me, but for now, I shall have to make do with Patronage by Maria Edgeworth.”
“Oh, I should like to read that book too. Do you have all four volumes?”
“I do though I only brought the first two with me. Once you have finished Mansfield Park, you are more than welcome to read it.”
She sat back and opened her book, satisfied and happy. He looked at her for a long moment before turning to his book.
It had been a dashed long day. The roads were muddy and the travel had been slow. They had not wanted to push the horses hard so Gideon had told the coachman just to keep the pace steady. He was happy to make as many stops as necessary, but he had to keep his cattle fit.
Now she slept in the room adjoining his and he was sure he could smell her on his shirt. It was keeping him awake, and hard as a rock. He could take himself in hand and relieve the tension, he supposed but he did not like doing that with Emily just on the other side of the door.
A loud rumble of thunder made him jump. He’d been aware that the rain was particularly heavy but he’d not seen lightning. Just then his room lit up for a second and then the eerie light was gone again. A squeal from next door made him sit bolt upright.
When no more noise came from the room adjacent, Gideon relaxed. Maybe Emily had a bad dream and had settled down again. Another deafening thunder crack brought a high pitched keening sound from the other side of the door. Not caring that he was only in his shirt, which hung low enough to cover the important parts, Gideon opened the door and was at the side of her bed.
“Emily, my love, are you well.”
She had started to turn to face him and her face lit up with another flash of lightning. Terror etched her features and she curled into a ball with a little squeal.
“The storm,” she managed. “I… I…” This time when her wide eyes poked out from beneath the covers they were wide and pleading. “I hate storms. I was caught out in one when I was a child. I… my horse… she died…” She sniffed. “I’m so afraid, Gideon. I always am. I used to climb into bed with Robert when I was a child, but now I climb in with Aunt Gertrude.”
More thunder, she squeaked and curled up under the covers. Devil take it. He could not leave her, petrified and cowering. Against his better judgement, he pulled aside the covers and encouraged her to move over. She did not protest. Instead, as soon as he lay down, she wrapped her arm around his waist and buried her head into his chest.
His shirt had ridden up as he had settled. His arse was bare, as was a more pertinent part of his anatomy. He could only pray that her hand did not go wandering.
As another clap of thunder shattered the silence, Emily moved with a whimper. She began to climb up his body, her leg curling around his, her arm moving over his shoulder as her other arm burrowed under his body. Was she trying to send him to Bedlam?
“Lay still, my love, all is well.” As lightning lit up the room again, she tightened her grip with her leg and started to rock against his thigh. He dropped his hand to her bottom. Powerless to do anything but encourage her, he moved his leg slightly and rocked his own hips. His hard cock was throbbing, but she continued to rub herself against him and he did not care.
“Gideon?”
“Shh, Emily. All is well.”
“I feel…”
“Excited? Stimulated?”
“Yes.”
“That is how you should feel.”
“Is this…appropriate?” Now she was asking? He smiled closing his eyes and relishing the feel of her in case his answer put an end to their little interlude.
“No, but then neither is eloping and it has not stopped either of us from doing it. I shall not ruin you
tonight, my love, but I can show you pleasure.”
He tipped her chin and took her mouth in a searing kiss. She responded immediately, both in the thrusts of her hips and by kissing him back. Her moan of desire sent a spear of need through him. He would not take his own pleasure now. He was aware of the storm still raging outside but Emily seemed to have forgotten and was completely absorbed in what was going on in the bed. Their tongues danced and their teeth clashed as they tried to consume each other.
He’d had many women, but somehow this innocent creature was pulling more passion and desire from him than the most practised courtesan. She was finding her pleasure through sheer instinct. Her lack of practised seductive techniques was more enticing and driving him towards the edge of his sanity.
When he moved his free hand up to her breast and brushed his thumb across her nipple, she gasped into the kiss. Oh, she liked that. He would enjoy doing that to her, regularly. Her breasts were soft and full and seemed to be very sensitive.
Suddenly it was no longer enough to allow her to find her own release against his thigh, He eased her onto her back and unwrapped her arm from his neck. When he broke their kiss, she made a little noise of protest.
“Open your legs to me, love.”
“Gideon…” her voice trembled with nerves.
“I promise you, just pleasure. Let me touch you. Drop your knees to the side.” He pressed his lips to hers and she complied. He pulled up her nightgown the final few inches, uncovering her nest of curls which, as his fingers brushed towards the bottom, proved to be already damp. As he moved his fingers through her folds, he was delighted to find her already wet as she writhed into his touch.
“So… perfect… so…. wet!” he punctuated each word with a kiss to her jawline.
“Wet? That is good?” she enquired.
“Very good.” She was rutting against his fingers and he was massaging her pearl with tiny deft strokes. Her quick breathing and the grip she now had on the bedsheet told him she was close to release. He moved his head to her breast and sucked her nipple through the cotton of her nightgown. Of course, he could have stripped her but although this act was completely inappropriately, somehow it felt less so if he had not seen her body. She would be pleasured and hopefully sleep through the rest of the storm.
