It still seemed too incredible to be true. He’d given her so much. He’d brought her to life, tending her like a fragile flower until she bloomed. She thought her heart would burst from loving him. She was giddy with happiness, but hard on the heels of that thought came the horrifying realization that she’d tied her happiness to Henry. Once again, it was out of her control.
Her parents had once been married and in love. Did that mean her mother had needed her father like this, that he’d completed her in the way Henry completed Diana? How had she survived the loss?
Her heart ached, and tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks.
“Did I hurt you?” Henry asked worriedly as he wiped her tears away, a frown creasing his brow. “Was I too rough? ”
She shook her head. “I’m just so… very happy.” Her voice caught on a sob.
He slid out of her and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. He smoothed her hair off her face with exquisite gentleness, and his eyes were tender as he gazed at her. She knew now with absolute certainty that losing him wouldn’t just break her heart; it would destroy her. She closed her eyes so Henry wouldn’t see the surge of terror that shot through her.
She couldn’t know the future, she told herself. She and Henry would be fine. They wouldn’t destroy any lives. She suddenly thought of the little packets of herbs Martine had packed in her portmanteau. She had no control over her own future, but she could make certain that, whatever happened, no child of hers would ever suffer the rejection she had. She squeezed her eyes tight against another flood of tears.
“Rest, love,” Henry said, tucking her against him, “because as soon as I can manage, I plan on making us both very happy again.”
HENRY AWOKE WITH A SMILE on his face, happiness in his heart, and an ache in his cock that he knew just how to cure. He wasn’t sure if it was the months of enforced abstinence, the church’s blessing, or some combination of the two, but bedding Diana had been the most amazing sexual experience of his life. His wife was an innocent—though she was a fast learner—but lovemaking with her had taken him to unimagined heights. Making love—perhaps that was the difference.
He rolled onto his side to look at her, pride and possessiveness filling him. His wife. He was beginning to understand why some of his friends seemed so happy with their shackles. With Diana, he saw shackles in an entirely new light. He envisioned her shackled to the bedposts, helplessly awaiting his every desire…
He reached out and ran a finger down Diana’s back, tracing the delicate line of her spine. She lay on her stomach, her head pillowed on her arms, that incredible hair spilling around her. Early morning light sneaked in around the heavy curtains casting a glimmer glow on her porcelain skin. His mouth had learned every sensitive inch of her back last night. He’d set out to kiss all of her freckles, but he’d become distracted halfway down. If her yells were any indication, she hadn’t minded. And he wouldn’t mind another taste of her. He felt his smile widening, stretching across his face in an undoubtedly idiotic grin.
He shifted closer and pressed a kiss to one shoulder. She didn’t stir, so he hooked a finger in the sheet pooled around her waist and pulled it off her. She had one knee hitched up, and his heart leapt—along with his cock—at the sight. Even in slumber, she offered herself to him.
Henry slid his arm around her waist and rolled her onto her side so her back fitted against his chest. He rubbed his chin against her silky hair as he lightly trailed his fingers over her ribs. She wriggled and batted at him as if he were an insect. The press of her buttocks against his aching flesh had him groaning with wanting to be inside her. His fingers slid to the rounded swell of her hips, over the soft flesh of her belly and then down through those scandalous flaming curls to her core.
“Wake up, Di,” he whispered between pressing feather-light kisses to her temple, her cheek, her chin. “It’s time for me to love you again.”
She made a sound that was at once incoherent and definitely negative, kin to the one he’d heard yesterday in the carriage. His wife didn’t like having her slumber disturbed. He made a note of it, and then proceeded to ignore it.
He chuckled as he raised himself up on his forearm. “I’ll have to change your mind then.” He skimmed his teeth over the shell of her ear and lightly nipped her earlobe as he cupped her sex, rubbing his palm against her. He knew the moment she awoke; her muscles tensed and her breathing hitched.
“Good morning, wife,” he murmured against her neck. “And it’s about to get better.” He probed at her entrance with his middle finger and found her tight, but hot and damp. She gasped as he began to slowly press inside and moaned as he retreated.
“Are you sore?” he asked.
She shook her head. He hadn’t seen anything yesterday when he’d bathed her woman’s flesh, but she’d been a very unwilling participant in that inspection. He’d never seen her turn quite that shade of red before. Still, he’d torn through something to make her bleed, so after the first time, he’d restricted his loving to his hands and mouth. He’d been a gentleman, and he was proud of himself. He was ready to reclaim his status as a rogue.
He stroked up her cleft to circle the bud at the peak of her sex, setting up a steady rhythm. She rewarded him with an erotic symphony of breathy cries and guttural groans, pierced now and again by the keening wail of his name and a great deal of blasphemy.
Stroking his hand over a sleek, freckled thigh, he caught hold of her knee, lifted her leg and rested it atop his. He placed the tip of his cock against her and rolled his hips, slowly working inside her. He gritted his teeth at the exquisite sensation of being wrapped in hot, wet silk. Her inner muscles pulsed softly with the echoes of her pleasure, trying to coax his seed from him.
His breath caught at the thought of watching Diana’s stomach grow round and taut with their babe. He’d teased her about children before, but he’d never thought much beyond conceiving them. Difficult to believe he was thinking past that right now, but mixed with his need was an exuberant joy that took the face of a chubby-cheeked child with copper curls.
How incredible that he’d complained of feeling adrift only months before. His life had direction now. He had a purpose. He had an estate, a stud that would prosper and thrive under his guidance. He had a wife. In time, they would build a family together.
He gathered Diana closer, rocking their bodies in a gentle, easy pace, trying to prolong the pleasure. His hand rose from her curls to toy with her breasts as he nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. She smelled like orange blossoms and sated woman. His sated woman.
“Di,” he murmured.
She turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes reflecting all the need and desire he felt. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He leaned forward to kiss her, knowing he would never grow weary of her taste, never tire of hearing the hitch in her breathing when his tongue touched hers.
When she began to push back against him, his fingers sought out that tiny bud once more. He swallowed her moans as he drew lazy circles. Diana writhed in his arms, torn between the need to press back and take him deeper or to press forward against his fingers. He made the decision for her as he pulled himself from her velvet grip and urged her onto her knees. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide with yearning and a touch of apprehension.
“Trust me, love. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” He placed a tender kiss at the base of her spine, just above the lush swell of her bottom. She nodded, her hips tilting in a subtle invitation that he was more than willing to accept. He positioned himself at her entrance, grabbed her hips, and slowly pushed into her. After a few easy thrusts, he pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed home.
Diana cried out, her sex clamping around him like a satin fist. Her arms buckled, and she collapsed to her elbows on the bed. He paused, but she shook her head. “Don’t stop.” She ground her head against the mattress as she clawed at the sheets. “Don’t stop. Oh, God, don’t stop.”
<
br /> He surged into her, riding her through her climax. He fought the urge to spill his seed, desperate to make the pleasure last as long as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t last long. He placed one hand down on the mattress and molded his chest to her back, wanting to be as close to her as possible. He reached beneath her with his free hand and stroked her nubbin, already swollen with desire.
“Henry—” she gasped. “I can’t— It’s too much!”
“Again,” he insisted stubbornly. He began to pluck at the sensitive flesh, willing her to go over the edge once more. His spine tingled in warning as his ballocks drew up. With one last hard thrust, he let out a hoarse shout and gave himself over to the demands of his body. Diana cried out a moment later, her inner muscles drawing his seed in a rhythmic caress that left him entirely exhausted and utterly replete.
Henry had just enough presence of mind to withdraw from her and collapse onto his back beside her so he wouldn’t crush her beneath him as he had before. Even as he struggled to catch his breath, he found himself reaching for her, pulling her near. The satisfaction he knew when she curled into him and laid her head on his chest was as heart-stopping as the physical pleasure had been.
“I think you’ve killed me,” she muttered.
“Likewise.” He groaned and patted at her hair, which was all the movement he could manage. “I understand now why marriage is a sacrament, Di. Making babies with you is the closest I’m going to get to heaven on earth.”
She let out a shuddering breath, and something dripped against his chest. He brushed his hand over her cheek and touched tears. His heart ached with tenderness, and he needed a moment before he could speak.
“I know, sweetheart,” he told her as he brushed the wetness away. “I’m happy too.”
All too soon, Diana pulled away from him. Henry watched in amusement as she attempted to leave the bed whilst keeping the sheet wrapped around her. Unfortunately, he had the other end of the sheet trapped very firmly beneath him. With a huff, she grabbed the counterpane and draped it around herself like a cape.
He crossed his arms behind his head. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, Di. Did you not hear me say I meant to keep you in bed for a week?”
“We went downstairs last night for supper.”
“So we did.” He grinned. “Heaven help us if Mrs. Polgrey ever learns your bare bottom has been in contact with the top of her new sycamore table. Ah, there’s that blush I love so well!”
She shook her head. “I want to see the house in proper light without you distracting me.”
He rose from the bed, and Diana’s eyes roamed over him with avid interest. He stretched, preening a bit. “I think you enjoy when I distract you.” She licked her lips and he started toward her.
Diana held up her hand. “No, we’re not going to spend a week in there—” She glanced at the bed. “—doing… doing that. I am already embarrassed to face Jasper and Timms. We will not insult Mrs. Polgrey by ignoring the breakfast she has doubtless cooked for us, and I must meet the rest of the staff.”
Henry strode forward and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ve spent so much time with my daring Diana of late. I am glad to see my dear Miss Merriwether hasn’t abandoned me. Someone must keep Ravensfield respectable. Go and wait in bed. I will ring for your maid.” He passed through the door that adjoined their rooms and pulled the bell cord, then returned to his chamber. He found fresh water in the basin in his dressing closet, and he washed quickly before donning a dressing gown.
He returned to Diana’s room to wait for her maid. He frowned as he glanced around. He’d wanted so badly for the house to be perfect for her, but he wasn’t willing to compromise on quality, and there just hadn’t been enough time to get everything done. Last night, as they’d explored by candlelight, imagination and shadows had filled in the missing pieces. In the crisp morning light, the unfinished state of the house became glaringly apparent. When Ellie arrived, Henry instructed her prepare a bath for Diana and to have hot water sent up to his dressing closet so he could shave.
“All right,” he called to Diana once the maid had gone, “Ellie will be with you shortly. You may as well come and see your room in the light of day.” She shuffled through the doorway clutching her quilt about her and began to look around. “It’s a work in progress,” he said quickly. “I’m sure you will want to choose your own decorations. The bed- hangings should be here within a fortnight. The dressing table is in the closet, and there’s a large bathing-tub in there as well. I asked Ellie to have a bath prepared for you. As for the curtains—”
Diana returned to him, reached a hand up to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love it. I love everything we chose together, and I love what you chose for me. Do you think I don’t see that still life on that wall has lilies, or that the painting there is of the goddess Diana? The porcelain figures on the mantel are masked revelers right out of our night at Vauxhall. When did you find the time to get everything?”
“I enlisted help,” he admitted. “I mentioned to my sisters that they should keep their eyes open for some particular pieces when they went about their shopping. I believe they took my words as a challenge, because crates began showing up at the house within the week. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can have it changed.”
“I told you, I love it. The room is perfect. Thank you.” Her other arm joined its mate around his neck. The quilt fell to the floor leaving her naked length pressed against him. His sex rose beneath the silk damask robe to nudge at the soft flesh of her belly.
“Don’t get too fond of this room,” he warned her. “I have no intention of allowing you to make much use of it.”
Her lips curled. “There’s the rogue I married.” She rose up on her toes and caught his earlobe between her teeth. His breath hissed out, and then he sucked it back in when she reached down and tugged at his belt. The two halves of his robe fell apart, and Diana wrapped her fingers around him in an intimate caress. “It’s like satin,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “At once soft and hard, just like you.”
“Di, what are you—?” His voice cracked when her thumb brushed over the sensitive head.
“Martine’s talk was not completely uninformative.” She ran her fingers up and down his length, then paused. “You do like this?”
“I love it. God, don’t stop,” he pleaded.
She smiled at him, a temptress’s smile, so seductive and confident his breath caught. He stopped breathing as she sank to her knees before him, and then muttered an oath as she kissed the inside of his thigh. She sat back on her heels and gazed up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. As for him, well, if he got much more excited, he was going to explode.
“Though Martine forgot, I suspect deliberately, to mention any pain associated with the marriage bed, she was very, ah, explicit about the pleasures to be had.”
She seemed to expect a response, so Henry made a noise somewhere between a groan and a grunt, hoping it would suffice.
“She said men like to be kissed all over.”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the middle of his thigh.
“Un bisou ici.” A kiss here.
She rose up on her knees and pressed another kiss below his navel.
“Un bisou là.” A kiss there.
He tangled his hands in her hair, urging her lower. She laughed softly, unknowingly teasing him with the puffs of her warm breath.
“Di,” he pleaded.
“Et le baiser d’amants…” And the lovers’ kiss.
His breath hissed out at the first soft touch of her lips. She kissed him all over, up and down, quick, fleeting touches that proved the most exquisite torment he’d ever experienced. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank Martine for her instructions or strangle her for not being nearly explicit enough.
“You can also… That is, sometimes… If you want…” It was a struggle to put any words together, let alone think of how to suggest his wife perform
such an indelicate act.
“Yes?” She looked up at him expectantly.
“I—” he faltered. He wanted her mouth on him so badly he hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. “I want you.”
“Oh?” she asked a shade too innocently. “I thought perhaps you wanted this.” She licked him from the base up, then swirled her tongue around the tip.
His head fell back as his world narrowed to the hot, wet heaven of her mouth. When she reached between his thighs and cupped his bollocks, he knew the end was near. He clutched at her shoulders until she raised her head, confusion clouding her eyes.
“Want… to be… inside you,” he explained between heavy breaths.
She nodded eagerly and tugged at one of his hands as she lay back on the rug. He shrugged off his robe and followed her down. He took her mouth as he probed her sex. He found her wet and ready for him, and it was a good thing, because there was no finesse, nothing of the skilled lover in his actions.
Gone was his vaunted control. A need so desperate and fierce it was almost savage governed him now. Her sweetness, her desire to please him, undid him. She gasped his name as he slid a finger inside her. The sound of her pleasure drove him wild.
He levered himself up, added a second finger, and she rewarded him with a deep moan. Even as her hips rose to draw him deeper, she shook her head.
“You,” she demanded. “You.”
She needn’t have told him twice. He entered her in one long, hard stroke. He stilled when she cried out.
“Di?”
“More.” She flexed her hips, moaning as the action pushed him still deeper inside her.
He growled his pleasure as the ability to speak deserted him. Everything around him dissipated into a haze of passion. All that existed was the red-hot thrust and glide, as he withdrew until only the tip of him remained inside her, and then drove back into her silky depths.
His tongue flicked out to lick her salty tears as she contracted around him, drawing him deeper and demanding all he had to give. He could no more stop from giving it to her than he could stop the seasons from changing.
Sara Lindsey - [Weston 03] Page 24
