‘Your feet are so dainty,’ he said and kissed one ankle. Pushed her nightgown a little higher up her leg. ‘You have such shapely legs,’ he breathed, smoothing his hand over her calf as he gazed at it. And he bared her knees. Kissed one, then pushed her legs slightly apart so that he could kiss the inside of the other. His mouth felt so hot. His hair so soft as it brushed her inner thigh.
‘You are not so soft here,’ he said, looking up at her with a grin as his hands slid up the outside of her thighs. ‘You have strong muscles from all your horse riding.’
He got up off the floor, to sit next to her on the bed again.
‘Is that...a bad thing?’
‘No. It is a good thing.’
So why had he stopped touching her legs, just when she’d started to feel as though she could let him touch her there? No, more than that, when she’d started wanting him to touch her there?
‘You know,’ he said, reaching out to part her nightgown that last little bit, ‘that I find these as intriguing as any other man does, don’t you?’ He looked an enquiry at her as he slowly pushed the fabric down and away from her shoulders. As though giving her the chance to object.
‘But they are not all you see when you look at me, are they, Edmund?’
He smiled at her. ‘No. They are only a part of you. A very beautiful part, but not all that I...’ His breath hitched. He darted her a troubled glance.
So she reached out and took his hand, and carried it to her heart. And as he began to caress her again, she sighed with pleasure as warm feelings whooshed to that place between her legs she’d been expecting him to touch before, making her feel as if she was melting from the inside.
‘How does that feel?’
‘I don’t know how to explain it,’ she panted. ‘But my heart is hammering so fast you must be able to feel it.’
‘Yes, I can feel it.’
Oh, and so could she.
‘How would you feel if I were to explore a little further?’
I’d probably explode with excitement, was what she wanted to say. But all that came out of her mouth was an indeterminate little mew. But he must have understood her, because he gave a low, throaty chuckle, then lowered his head so that he could kiss her there. Gentle, butterfly kisses at first, and then, when she began to gasp at the pleasure of it, deeper kisses. Kisses that tugged at the flesh.
When he grew bolder, nibbling at her nipples and licking them, she moaned and drove her fingers into his hair.
‘Oh, my goodness, Edmund,’ she panted, ‘I never dreamed I could feel like this.’
‘How do you feel?’
He wanted her to put it into words? Of course he did. This was Edmund.
‘Hot. Alive. Expectant. As if this is only the beginning.’
‘It is only the beginning. You are going to break free from the cocoon in which circumstances and your own fears have bound you. And fly.’
Edmund stood up and, with an expertise that impressed her immensely, removed her nightdress and gently encouraged her to lie back on the bed, easing her arms and legs wide, as though she really was a butterfly, spreading its wings to the sun.
She closed her eyes, embarrassed at being spread out before him like that. Utterly naked. And rather shocked by how excited she felt, too.
There was a rustling noise and the sound of clothing landing on the floor. Which meant that Edmund was naked, too.
The mattress dipped and she could feel that he was, because he was kneeling between her legs, and it was hair-roughened flesh, not fabric brushing her skin.
She felt him crouch over her, then he was kissing her breasts again. And then her belly. And then, shockingly, lower. Right where she’d wanted him to touch her before. Only she’d never imagined him fastening his mouth there.
He started stroking at her breasts after a while, though he kept on kissing her between her legs. Kneading at them. Weaving a new cocoon, this one spun out of hazy sensuality. She found she couldn’t keep still. It was as if her limbs had developed minds of their own. She discovered that she wasn’t a failure as a woman after all. The moment she stopped trying to rein it back, her body knew exactly what to do. With the right man. As his lips caressed,and his teeth nibbled, and his tongue delved and his hands caressed, she started actually writhing under him. And her heart was pounding faster and faster, as though she was galloping flat out to some unseen destination. Then something happened that was like diving into the lake at Fontenay Court on a hot summer’s day, only more so. Something that both soothed her, yet brought her to a boiling point, all at the same time. In her confusion, and helplessness, she cried out, clutching at his hair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she panted, as soon as she could. ‘Did I hurt you?’
He gave a bark of laughter. ‘Did you hurt me? The question is usually asked by the groom, not the bride.’
‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel or what to say.’
‘You are doing splendidly,’ he said, sliding up her body and dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘Better than I could ever have hoped. You really let go, just then, didn’t you?’
‘I couldn’t help it. You are...’ She stroked his shoulder, letting her fingers trail down the beautifully sculpted contours of his upper arm. ‘You make me feel...’
He made a sound that could only be described as a growl. ‘I fear this next bit might actually hurt you. But after, directly after, I will make you feel what you just felt, all over again, I promise.’
He gazed into her eyes as though waiting for her response.
‘I know you will, Edmund. I trust you. You are a man of your word.’
He made that strange growly sound again, then came over her, pushing her legs apart with his own and spearing into her.
There was the slightest stinging sensation, but then a wonderful feeling of togetherness replaced it and all coherent thinking ceased. She let her body do as it wanted. It writhed. Her hands swept up and down the intriguing muscles in Edmund’s back, as they bunched and flexed. She pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck, and opened her mouth wide when his own kisses became blatantly intrusive.
And it was all wonderful. Especially the fact that he was clearly enjoying taking possession of her. When he cried out and shuddered over and into her, she clasped him tightly and a huge wave of emotion so powerful surged through her that tears began rolling down her cheeks.
He suddenly reared back.
‘Georgie! Did I hurt you?’
‘No,’ she gulped. ‘It w-was l-lovely.’
‘Then why are you crying?’
‘I d-don’t know. Maybe it is b-because I have b-been so silly for so long. K-keeping all my feelings b-bottled up.’
‘It was perfectly understandable,’ he said gently. He propped himself up on his elbows, his hands cupping her cheeks. ‘Your father let you run wild until my mother stepped in and told him he’d been negligent. And then he married a woman who tried to turn you into something you could never be. It’s no wonder you became...discouraged. Confused. That you even began to...to despise your very self.’
‘Yes. Yes, that is just what I did. Because no matter how hard I tried, I was really, really useless at being a girl.’
‘No. No, you are not useless. You never have been. You are a good woman, who will be a wonderful mother.’
‘What? Me? How can you think that?’
‘Because you were the only one in Bartlesham to have compassion on a lonely, socially inept boy. And the courage to visit him when nobody else spared him a second thought. That is the kind of mother I want for my children. A woman who will go through fire and flood—or climb a tree and break through locked windows—to make sure that child is properly cared for. Who won’t care about convention, or worry what people might say or think. You will
be the most splendid, fiercely protective, nurturing mother there has ever been.’
‘Edmund,’ she whispered in amazement. ‘You almost make me believe it.’
‘You should believe it. And believe this, too,’ he said sternly. ‘You will be the most perfect wife for me, while we are waiting for those children to arrive. You won’t...’ he toyed with a curl of her hair ‘...you won’t really leave me in London and stay down at Fontenay Court, now you know I won’t be having any mistresses, will you?’
He said it like a plea.
‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Edmund, I’ve already told you I will be whatever kind of wife you want me to be.’
Something flared in his eyes. ‘I want you to stand at my side. To support me as loyally as you did when we were children. When I am in London, I want you here with me. Even if you cannot stomach attending the lectures I wish to attend, I want to come home to you every night. I want you here in my bed.’
She didn’t point out that, technically, this was her bed. Because he wouldn’t have made such an error if he’d been in a rational frame of mind. Which meant that what he was saying came from his heart.
‘I want,’ he said, ‘to wake up with you every morning.’
‘Oh, I would love that, too’ she said and heaved a sigh of utter contentment. ‘It sounds perfect.’
‘Even though I haven’t said that I love you?’
‘Yes, you have,’ she said, looping his arms round his neck.
‘What? When?’
‘When you chose to have half a marriage, rather than see another man take care of me. When you gave up the hope of having those heirs you told me are so important to you. When you knocked Mr Eastman down. When you...’ She half-smiled at the frown forming between his brows. ‘When you came storming down to our stream, determined to put me in my place.’
‘I was vile to you that day. How can you regard that as a proof that I love you?’
‘Because if you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have been so angry. You would have been able to ignore my note, and my presence in the village, or in London, with scarcely more than a raised eyebrow. Instead of which...’
‘I couldn’t leave you alone. Couldn’t bear the thought of any other man doing...this,’ he said, flexing his hips. Which set off a delightful ripple that went all the way up her spine and made her flex right back.
And then he kissed her. Hungrily. And something flared between them that meant there was no more talking for quite some time.
* * *
After that interlude, Edmund rolled to her side, where they lay, hand in hand, breathless.
‘I feel ridiculously happy,’ he said, once he’d got his breath back. ‘If only I’d admitted sooner how I feel about you, and wooed you properly, we could have been together ages ago. Neither of us needed to go through any of the agony we’ve endured...’
She rolled to her side and lay one finger over his lips.
‘Don’t forget the caterpillars, Edmund.’
‘The what?’
‘You know full well they have to go through a stage of...what is it called? When they are in their cocoon or they will never become butterflies. If you had just stayed in Bartlesham and nobody had tried to part us...’
He rolled on to his side to face her. ‘I would have been content to let you trot after me, like a shadow. I would have taken you completely for granted. Had we drifted into marriage I would never have appreciated the treasure that you are. But we were forced to part. And our friendship seemed to die. And when I saw you again, after the years I spent on St. Mary’s, the emotions I felt were all violent. I boiled with hatred, and hurt, and yearning. Nothing tepid, unformed and spineless like the feelings I’d had for you as a youth, that I would have continued having for you as a man.’
‘Yes, Edmund. That time in our lives, terrible though it was to live through, will only make our future richer. Because we have glimpsed what life would be like without the other in it.’
He shuddered. ‘Hellish. Cold. Lonely.’
She cupped his cheek with her hand.
‘You are right, you know,’ he added, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I do love you.’
‘I know,’ she said. And smiled.
Because she finally believed it.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want to miss these other great reads from Annie Burrows
PORTRAIT OF A SCANDAL
LORD HAVELOCK’S LIST
A MISTRESS FOR MAJOR BARTLETT
THE CAPTAIN’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE
IN BED WITH THE DUKE
And make sure you look for
Annie Burrows’s short story
‘CINDERELLA’S PERFECT CHRISTMAS’
in our
ONCE UPON A REGENCY CHRISTMAS
anthology!
Keep reading for an excerpt from MARRYING THE REBELLIOUS MISS by Bronwyn Scott.
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Marrying the Rebellious Miss
by Bronwyn Scott
Chapter One
Scotland—April 1822
The Day of Judgement had arrived, bringing Preston Worth with it. There was only one reason he was here. He had come for her. At last. Beatrice had known it the moment she’d seen him ride into the yard of the Maddox farmhouse. After months of anticipation and planning, the dreaded reckoning was here.
Beatrice closed her eyes, trying to find her calm centre, trying to fight the rising terror at the core of her, but to little effect. Months of knowing and planning were not the bulwarks of support she’d hoped they’d be. She fisted clammy hands in the folds of her skirt, desperate to find balance, desperate to hold back the swamping panic that swept her in stomach-clenching nausea, in the race of her heartbeat and the whir of her mind. From the window, she saw Preston swing off the horse and approach the house in purposeful strides. All coherent thought splintered into useless shards of what had once been whole logic.
She knew only two things in the precious seconds of freedom that remained. The first: she had to act now! Every panicked instinct she possessed screamed the same conclusion: grab the baby and run! Her freedom would end the moment he entered the farmhouse. The second was that her parents had outdone themselves this time. They’d sen
t her friend to be the horseman of her apocalypse. Therein lay the conundrum: she needn’t fear her friend, the one-time hero of her youth, the saviour of her Seasons when no one else would sign her dance card. She need only fear his message. How did one fight someone who wasn’t the enemy? But fight Preston she must. This was Armageddon, the end of her world as she preferred it, if she lost the battle that was to come.
She would not lose. She was Beatrice Penrose. She didn’t know how to lose, even in the face of great adversity. She’d born a child out of wedlock and survived. What greater adversity for a young woman was there than that? There were low murmurs of voices at the door, Mistress Maddox and Preston exchanging greetings and introductions. Beatrice unclenched her fists and smoothed her skirts where her hands had wrinkled them. She drew a deep breath, giving panic one last shove. She could allow herself to tremble all she liked on the inside. She just couldn’t show it, couldn’t let Preston see how much his visit terrified her.
At the sound of boots at the parlour door, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin with a final admonition: she was Beatrice Penrose, she would survive this, too. She had time for one last breath before the axe fell, his words chopping short her freedom. ‘Hello, Beatrice. I’ve come to fetch you home.’
She turned from the window to meet her fate—no, not her fate, her future. Fate was something you accepted. The future was something you carved for yourself, something you alone decided. That meant taking charge of this conversation right now. The future was here, standing before her; tall and dark-haired with a sharp hazel gaze, Preston, the friend of her youth as she’d always known him and yet there was a difference about him today that transcended the dusty boots and windblown hair, something she couldn’t put her finger on, not yet. Her mind was still too scattered. She desperately wished she could get her nerves under control.
Beatrice gestured to the chairs set before the cold fire. ‘Please, come and sit. You should have sent word you were coming.’ At least she’d found her voice even if it sounded reedy.
‘And ruin the surprise?’ Preston took the far chair. She took the seat closest to the cradle where her son slept oblivious. Her foot picked up the rocking rhythm it had abandoned a few minutes ago for the window, this time out of a need to quiet her nerves more than putting the babe to sleep. ‘You must tell me all the news from Little Westbury. How are Evie and her new husband? He sounds like a paragon from her letters. I can’t believe I missed her wedding.’ She was talking too fast, rambling, and she couldn’t stop. ‘I want all the details and I’ll want to hear about May and Liam, too. They must be married by now.’ So much for hiding her nerves, but perhaps she could buy some time until she had her control back. At the moment, these questions were the shield behind which she could gather stronger resources.
The Debutante's Daring Proposal Page 24
