The butler closed the front door and slipped discreetly away, leaving Jane and Charles standing alone in the middle of the hall.
There was complete silence for a moment as they listened to the sound of the carriage wheels fading into the distance, and then they looked at each other.
“This is really not quite how I envisioned the first day of our marriage,” Charles said dismally.
Jane smiled at him, reaching to put her arms about his neck, careless that anyone could come into the hall and see them. “Is it not? What can I do to improve the day for you, my darling?”
“Jane!” Shocked at the sly innuendo she put behind the words, he gaped down at her. “What have you done with my sweet, innocent Jane?”
“I think it’s what you did with your sweet, innocent Jane that has caused this,” she said with a giggle, before suddenly worrying that he might not care for her more forward behaviour. A frown creased her brow, and she bit down nervously on her lower lip, casting her eyes down.
Charles’ arms wrapped around her, pulling her firmly against him. She gasped as she felt a distinct hardness pushing at her through the layers of their clothes.
“I think I like the sensual, knowing Mrs Bingley even more than I liked the sweet, innocent Miss Bennet,” he assured her.
“You do?” Jane peeked up at him through her eyelashes.
“Indeed, I believe that I positively adore Mrs Bingley,” he saw her uncertainty, though he did not understand the cause, and took pains to assure her of his fervent adoration. “And that nothing would make me happier than to retire with her to our chambers for the remainder of the day, to investigate just what ideas she might have to improve the day for both of us.”
Reassured, Jane’s smile returned in full force. “Then let us adjourn upstairs, Mr Bingley. I cannot think of anything else I would rather do.”
Always, Mr Bingley
Jane was very glad that she had asked Hannah to dress her in a simple gown, for she did not think that she could have borne taking too long to get undressed. As it was, she and Charles were fumbling at each other’s clothes even as he kicked the bedroom door closed behind them. His cravat stubbornly refused to yield, but it actually didn’t matter, she realised; she was worrying about the wrong item of clothing, and it was a simple matter for Charles to release the falls of his breeches, toss her skirts up to her waist and hoist her up against the door with his strong hands under her thighs.
“Oh my - oh Charles!” she gasped as he entered her with one swift thrust.
“Too much?” he checked, thinking a little late that he should have taken more time to prepare her, that he hadn’t exactly been considerate of her comfort. She was warm and wet clasped around him though, her fingers kneading against his shoulders like kitten claws, long lashes drifting down to rest on her alabaster cheeks.
“Not enough,” Jane sighed, trying to shift her hips, encourage him to move. Pinned against the door by his weight, though, there was little she could do. “Please, Charles!”
“Jane,” he groaned her name, seeking her lips with his. She wound her long legs around his waist, rocked herself against him, and he was undone. His thrusts were rough, heedless of her comfort; she did not care in the slightest, kissing him back with equal fervour, urging him to greater efforts until she let out a high wail of pleasure and tightened around him, her face relaxing into the sweetest lines of bliss.
Charles almost sobbed her name again, spurting hotly deep inside her clutching tunnel, pressing his sweaty brow against hers as he sought to catch his breath.
Jane moaned and clung to Charles as he lifted her gently off him and set her on her feet. Her knees would not hold her up, but it seemed that his were distinctly weakened as well. They stumbled to the bed clinging to each other, and toppled to its surface laughing merrily together.
“I feel that I am probably the most scandalous wife who ever lived,” Jane said as she fumbled for the laces of her gown, trying to remove it. She felt quite overheated, as though the garment was cooking her alive.
“It would only be scandalous if we behaved so in public, my darling,” Charles disagreed, finally pulling his cravat loose and flinging it off the bed. “What happens betwixt husband and wife behind the closed door of their bedroom is none of anyone else’s business.”
“So, it is not scandalous behaviour if nobody else knows about it?” Jane asked.
“That is a very philosophical question, darling, and one that your poor husband is quite ill-equipped to answer, due to my complete inattention to the subject of philosophy during my studies at Cambridge. You would do better to ask Darcy, only I pray that you find some way to couch your question such that it appears to pertain to another subject entirely than marital relations.” Charles finally managed to divest himself of his waistcoat and shirt, throwing them off the bed after his cravat.
Jane dissolved into helpless giggles at the mere idea of asking Darcy about the subject, no matter what terms she managed to couch it in. “He would think that I had run quite mad!”
Grinning, Charles leaned over to help unlace her gown. “Better not ask him then, hm? It shall just have to be one of life’s great unanswered mysteries.”
Divested of her clothing, Jane curled happily into Charles’ arms, resting her cheek on his chest. “It might be all a matter of perspective, too,” she mused. “Why, this time yesterday, I would have been utterly shocked at finding myself in this precise situation, and yet now, nothing could seem more natural.”
He stroked his hand into her hair, finding the pins which secured it and removing them one by one. “This time yesterday, I felt as though this moment would never come,” he confessed. “The day seemed to be going so impossibly slowly.”
“Really?” Jane tilted her head to look up at him enquiringly, her hair tumbling loose and drifting in a soft wave of gold across his chest. “The day passed in a terrifying blur for me; it seemed that no sooner was Mama shaking me awake than we were in the church, and then there was the wedding feast…”
“Dare I hope that all of your fears about the marriage bed have been sufficiently assuaged, my darling?” Charles asked when she trailed off into silence.
“Oh yes!” Smiling, she leaned up to kiss him. “More than adequately.”
“Excellent.” He kissed her back, quite thoroughly, and it was mere moments before he decided that kissing her lips alone was not sufficient for him to express his feelings. Pulling her beneath him, he expressed his adoration of her with kisses to every inch of her skin from her brow to her toes, and back up again.
“I love you,” Jane said as he came back to her lips again, and he smiled against her mouth.
“I love you more.”
She smiled. She knew this game, or a version of it. “No, I love you more,” and she dug her fingers into his ribs, wondering even as she did so whether he was actually ticklish. She got her answer when he rolled away yelping with laughter. Jane dived after him, forgetting all about her nakedness. The pair of them rolled around on the bed giggling for several minutes until Charles managed to pin Jane’s arms above her head, lying atop her to keep her still.
“You know my deepest, darkest secret now,” he said through his laughter, “I can’t possibly let you go.”
“Were you planning to?”
“Never,” he vowed, before kissing her again. “You’re mine now, Mrs Bingley.”
“Always, Mr Bingley.”
~ The End ~
About The Author
Catherine Bilson was born and raised in North Wales before marrying an Australian and emigrating in 2001. A lifelong fan of Jane Austen, Mr Bingley’s Bride is her third Austen novel, following the well-received The Best Of Relations and Infamous Relations.
The Best Of Relations
What if... Aunt Gardiner, who after all hailed from Lambton, was well acquainted with the Darcy family, and knew of Wickham's misdemeanours? How would the story have been different? This tale begins with an exchange of letters bet
ween Elizabeth Bennet and her favourite aunt, discussing the happenings in Hertfordshire as the Bennet family become acquainted with their new neighbours, the Bingleys and their house guest Mr Darcy.
Infamous Relations
What if... Mr Collins had been even more despicable than in Jane Austen's original tale? Would such an infamous relation destroy Elizabeth and Darcy's chance of happiness forever, or would his actions set in motion an entirely different sequence of events?
You can catch up with Catherine at her website, www.catherinebilson.com or on her Facebook page fb.me/catherinebilsonauthor
She also writes steamy contemporary romance under the pen name Caitlyn Lynch.
Mr Bingley's Bride (Sensual Historical Romance) Page 8
