“Oh, drat,” Jane muttered, trying to scrape the petals off her skin. They slid down into the modest neckline of her dress, and she frowned slightly, wondering if she should try to fish them out of her cleavage. No, best not, that would look immodest at best. She glanced up and caught Charles staring at her neckline, and blushed again.
Charles glanced quickly at Darcy and Elizabeth, who seemed utterly wrapped up in each other, and then he leaned over to Jane and murmured, “I would offer to help but I fear that I would not behave very well once I laid my hands upon you.”
Jane wondered just how red her skin was getting. Her cheeks felt exceedingly hot. She murmured, “I thank you for your offer, Charles, but I think it would perhaps be best if I ask a maid at Netherfield to assist me.”
“If you want to attend your wedding breakfast, I am quite sure that would be best,” Charles agreed with a grin, because although the words were reproving, the tone was not, and Jane had a little smile curving the corners of her lips. She was so pretty when she blushed, too. He looked forward to seeing her pink-cheeked very often indeed. Perhaps he could instigate blushes by telling her that she had haunted his dreams since their first meeting… but perhaps she would not yet understand the implication that she had behaved much more wantonly in his dreams than she ever would have in real life.
The wedding breakfast seemed interminable. At least Caroline was on her best behaviour, Charles thought, watching her make polite conversation with the Countess of Matlock and Miss Darcy, undoubtedly the only two women in the room who she did not consider to be most definitely her social inferiors. He looked further across the room and saw Jane, being warmly embraced by her father. If Caroline had been the unhappiest woman at the wedding, Mr Bennet had certainly been the unhappiest man: he very obviously did not like losing his two favourite daughters both at once, and it was evidently a bitter blow that Elizabeth should be moving so far away.
It seemed to Charles to be nearing midnight by the time he was able to bid farewell to his last guests. Darcy and Elizabeth had quite shockingly disappeared a full hour ago, though everyone was too well-mannered to comment, even Mrs Bennet. Jane had never faltered; gracious and charming to everyone, she looked like a slender white rose as she stood at the foot of the stairs, awaiting him. Bingley walked slowly towards her, and when he reached her, lifted her slender hand and brought it to his lips.
“You must be weary beyond belief, Mrs Bingley,” he said softly, regretfully revising his plans for the night. “Your new maid Helena will have drawn you a bath: I pray you will enjoy it and then sleep well.”
A scarlet blush came to Jane’s face, and she thought in sudden panicked misery that he did not want her. But then she realised, of course not. It was just Charles being typically generous and considerate. Well, she would have none of that. She had not nerved herself to get through this night, only to have to build her courage up again tomorrow!
“Charles,” she said, making herself meet his eyes bravely, “Lizzy and I have always shared a room. I fear I will not sleep well at all if I must sleep alone.”
“I do not think that Elizabeth is likely to be available...” Charles began, and then stopped in confusion, feeling like an utter fool as her soft lips quirked in amusement and he realised he had mistaken her meaning. “Oh,” he said, quite inadequately.
“Of course, I am sure that you must be tired too,” Jane said kindly, “and perhaps my snoring will keep you awake...”
“Somehow I doubt that you snore,” Charles said, seeing the glint of humour in her eyes.
“Perhaps not. Lizzy assures me that I kick abominably, though...”
“I shall ask Mrs Darcy, but I suspect you have just told me a falsehood.”
“Perhaps you should investigate for yourself, in half an hour or so,” Jane said archly. And then she slipped her hand from her husband’s and walked away up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder and seeing him grinning at her. Her cheeks had never been so red, she was sure.
Charles could not help but smile. Jane was obviously embarrassed by her own forwardness, but it was equally obvious that she had just issued him with a blatant invitation. One he had no intention of turning down. He waited a few moments and then followed Jane up the stairs, heading for his own room.
It Is No Duty
Jane was delighted with Helena, a pleasant young girl from Meryton who had been specially hired to be her maid. She had an unpleasant suspicion that Caroline had intended to stick her with some old battle-axe, but Charles had actually sent his housekeeper over to Longbourn to consult with Hill about any recommendations she might have for Jane’s personal maid, which had delighted Hill no end. Helena was a relative of hers, a very pleasant young girl who had been nicely trained to be a lady’s maid. She was quiet and gently efficient as she unlaced Jane’s gown and assisted her into the luxurious bath which was set before a roaring fire in her dressing-room. Which was another pleasant surprise to Jane: the rooms which had been prepared for her were lovely, quietly understated but simple, not quite finished, waiting for her hand to turn them into her personal place. She had a dressing-room, a bedroom and a private parlour, a door from which connected to Charles’ suite.
Mindful of the time she had allotted Charles, Jane did not allow herself to linger over her bath. Helena dried her and assisted her into her nightgown and wrapper, pretty, lacy things which were a gift from her Aunt Gardiner. The maid was gently brushing out Jane’s long hair before her dressing-mirror when there was a quiet knock from the door in the sitting-room.
“That will be all, thank you Helena,” Jane said, proud of the fact that she was able to keep her voice calm and steady. The maid bobbed a curtsy and slipped out through the servants’ door in the dressing-room as Jane went to answer the door herself.
Her hair was even longer than he had realised, was Charles’ first dazed thought. It fell in a thick swirl of golden silk all the way to her hips. Immediately he wanted to fist it in his hands, bury his face in it to inhale deeply of the soft scent of roses that always rose from Jane’s skin. He took in every detail of her appearance, of the fine lawn nightgown and wrapper trimmed with delicate Brussels lace, the fact that she was obviously quite unaware of the way the fire behind her silhouetted her lush figure in a way that made him catch his breath.
“You are,” he said at last, aware his voice was hoarse with need, “quite astonishingly beautiful.”
Jane laughed a little and blushed. She had been gazing at him herself, absorbing his appearance. He seemed taller than ever, and she realised it was because she was barefoot. He wore a dark blue silk robe and loose silk trousers of the same colour, and while the robe was belted, it was open at the collar and she could clearly see the skin of his chest, more heavily muscled than she had thought he would be. Of course he always looked good in his formal clothes, his shoulders broad and strong, but then some men did pad their coats...
Jane’s thoughts ran down into incoherency as Charles stepped close enough to take her hands in his.
“Are you quite sure about this, Jane?” he asked her gently. “You must be tired, and we can wait – you need not feel that you must do your duty tonight...”
“I do not think of it as a duty,” Jane said honestly. And I will give your household no cause for gossip if blood should not be found on my sheets in the morn, she thought to herself. “I want – I want to be truly your wife, Charles,” she found words she could make herself utter. “Please.”
“Ah, my Jane,” he drew her into his arms, pressing his face against the top of her head, and Jane felt absurdly small and fragile beside his strength. “One thing I promise you, and that is that never again will you have to beg me to come to your bed.” There was a laugh in his voice, as he drew her gently into her bedroom and over to the great four-poster bed with its subtle cream covers, already turned down deftly by Helena. Jane was too short to sit down on it, though, so with a soft laugh he took her waist in his big hands and lifted her as though she was as light
as a feather.
“Oh!” Jane let out a soft gasp as she was lifted off her feet and laid on the thick, soft mattress. And then Charles was lying beside her, his blue eyes gazing into hers as he drew her close. She couldn’t help but tense a little, and he smiled at her and shook his head gently.
“Jane, best beloved, relax a little. There is no hurry, and if we rush I’ll likely hurt you, and I’d never willingly do that. You need to trust me.””
“I do trust you,” she whispered, “but Charles, I do not like at all to suffer pain.”
“Ah,” he smiled ruefully, “I fear I cannot guarantee you that there will be none, not this first time, at least. But I can promise that I will be as gentle and considerate as I can be, and that even if it hurts you this time, that the next time you will find pleasure in lovemaking.”
Jane’s eyes went wide and surprised, and Charles cursed softly under his breath. What the hell kind of nonsense had her mother been filling her head with, if Jane did not even expect to enjoy her marriage bed?
“Did you like it when I kissed you, Jane?” he asked softly, and watched that pretty blush colour her cheeks again. She nodded mutely. “Then you had best just trust me that you will like the rest a lot better than kissing.”
Aqua eyes wide, Jane could only whisper “Could we – could we start with kissing?”
Charles’ mouth quirked. “Oh, yes.” And he drew her still closer and brought his mouth to meet hers.
Jane’s senses reeled under the impact of that explosive kiss, like and yet unlike the way he had kissed her in Longbourn’s garden. Perhaps it was that this time Charles was holding nothing back, kissing her with a fierce hunger she sensed he had thus far kept well leashed. And what was most shocking was that his ardour drew an answering, equally passionate response from her of which Jane had never suspected she might be capable. Somehow she found that her hands had worked her way inside the collar of his robe, and she explored curiously his skin, hot and sleek, hard with muscle as his arms shifted to hold her closer.
The gentle, featherlight touch of her fingers on his chest was driving Charles mad. He had to remind himself that this was not the wanton Jane who had inhabited his dreams for many months now, but his Jane, his real live angel, and that he must not be rough or demanding or he could give her a disgust of his touch that might take a long time to overcome. Gently he tugged on the ribbons of her wrapper, relieved when they came loose at a touch. The neck of her nightgown opened as easily, and he marvelled at the silken softness of her skin. Slowly and gently he trailed his fingers downward, weighing her breast lightly in his hand, brushing the nipple with his palm, feeling with pleasure the way it tightened under his touch.
Jane let out a tiny sound against his mouth, and he stopped kissing her for a moment to ask “Are you all right, my dearest?”
“That feels – shocking, but so nice, Charles,” she gasped out, and then a true moan escaped her lips as he tweaked her nipple lightly with his fingertips.
Charles laughed softly. “Jane, you are going to have to suspend your instincts for the night, because I’m going to do a lot more things to you that you will find very shocking indeed if you think too hard about it.” He kissed her again, and then began to trail kisses down her throat. “Stop thinking and just let yourself feel, Jane,” he ordered, and then his mouth closed lightly over her nipple and he was rewarded by her soft, breathy gasp.
Jane pushed her shock to the back of her mind firmly. She was not going to be missish, she was a married woman now and she would do whatever her husband wished. Her back arched and she could not help but let out a low moan as he nipped her gently. Although she did hope that he would not think that she was too wanton.
“I want – I want to see you,” she mumbled, pushing at his shoulders. “Please, Charles – take this off.”
He did not hesitate to obey, stripping the robe off one-handed even as he continued his attentions to her breasts. And then one strong hand was wandering lower, pushing her nightgown and robe from her body, stroking lightly over her thighs before settling possessively over her most intimate place.
Jane no longer seemed to have any control over her own body. Charles’ strong, yet infinitely gentle hands seemed to be everywhere, exploring where and how she liked to be touched, and she was reacting instinctively, unable to keep from writhing under that gentle, searching touch. Soon his hot mouth was following to her most sensitive spots and she was embarrassed to find that she was moaning incoherently and gasping out his name.
Charles, for his part, was utterly delighted with Jane’s responsiveness. Aware that his need for her had built to almost unbearable levels, he was determined that she should have pleasure from his lovemaking before he took her virginity. And so he explored with the greatest delight her body, so lush and soft, that perfect white skin sleeker than the finest silk, loving her more with every tiny sound she made, the flush of arousal suffusing her flesh as finally he moved over her and took her mouth with his. She arched beneath him, begging wordlessly, and he positioned himself carefully and thrust.
The pain was minimal. One sharp pinch, a slightly uncomfortable, heavy, stretching sort of feeling deep inside her. And then the pleasure began again, yet more intensely than before, building and building to she knew not what until the world whirled about her and she cried out Charles’ name in astonished delight.
“Oh, Jane,” he gritted out, feeling silken muscles clench on him, and giving up entirely his battle for control. The climax shook him with its astonishing intensity, and then he collapsed on Jane, groaning her name out again as aftershocks of pleasure rippled up his spine. Her slender arms wrapped around him, and after a moment he realised she was laughing softly.
“Jane?” he lifted his head uncertainly to look at her, and she reached up and kissed him.
“Oh, Charles, that did not hurt at all, and it was so wonderful!” her eyes were starry as she gazed up at him.
“I love you so much,” he told her, his heart overflowing even as it still raced with excitement. Her smile was glorious, and no longer shy.
Charles eased from Jane gently, glancing down and grimacing slightly at the sight of the blood smearing her slender thighs. Gently he drew a cover over her. “Wait here,” he told her, and in her dressing-room, he dipped a cloth into the cooled bath and wiped himself down quickly, before rinsing it out and returning to tend to his wife. Exhausted and sated, she lay quietly as he washed the blood tenderly from her legs.
“Sleep,” Charles whispered, seeing her aqua eyes clouded with fatigue.
“Will you stay with me?” Jane whispered back.
“You could not keep me away,” he smiled down at her, and she smiled contentedly and closed her eyes.
Far from kicking him in her sleep, Jane instead curled into his arms like a kitten, rubbing her cheek contentedly on his chest. Charles was sure he had never been so happy in his life, as he closed his own eyes, inhaling the soft scent of roses.
Morning Joy
Jane awoke feeling warm and exceedingly comfortable. She stretched luxuriously, her eyes still closed, and bumped the top of her head.
“Ouch!” she said, just as Charles said the same thing.
“Oh!” Jane’s eyes flew open and she realised that she was lying on Charles’ chest, and that she had just bumped the top of her head on his chin. “Oh – my!” Jane’s cheeks flooded with color, because she wore not a stitch of clothing, and neither did he! She didn’t know where to put her eyes – or her hands!
“Good morning, Mrs Bingley,” Charles drawled, guessing quite accurately at her thoughts as Jane screwed her eyes shut. Gently he ran his fingers down the curve of her spine.
“Charles, you must not, you must go,” she squeaked. “Helena will be coming in soon, surely...” in the few moments she had her eyes open, Jane had clearly seen that morning light was flooding the room.
“Helena is not foolish enough to enter your rooms until you ring for her now that you are a married lady, Mrs B
ingley.” She was tense against him, and Charles smoothed his hands up her back again. “Relax, Jane,” he whispered in her ear. “Give your husband a kiss.”
“Our guests,” she said faintly, her resolve to behave in a ladylike manner fading rapidly away under his gentle touch.
“Will not expect to see us at all this day: indeed, if they did they would likely think all was not well with our marriage. Perhaps that I had hurt you.”
“Oh, no, you did not at all, Charles!” Jane’s eyes flew open. “I –– I liked what we did,” her voice was very shy, but her aqua eyes met his directly.
“Good, because I have a powerful need to love you again,” he told her, grinning, rolling to trap her beneath him. Jane giggled, and then lost all urge to laugh as his mouth came down on hers, hot and hungry and no longer at all frightening.
About half an hour later, Charles finally allowed Jane to ring the bell. Reluctantly he gathered his robe and trousers and returned to his own room, though not before telling Jane that he would order breakfast served in her private parlour and he would come to join her there in a little while. She was stiff and a little sore, he was sure of it from the way she moved though she did not complain, and he was quite sure that she would very much welcome a soothing bath.
“But do not allow Helena to dress you,” he kissed her with a hunger that was no less fierce for having been slaked. “Come in your gown and robe, for once we have eaten I will likely need to adjourn to bed again with you.”
Mr Bingley's Bride (Sensual Historical Romance) Page 3
