Surrendering to the Baron (A Steamy Regency Romance Book 7)

by Georgette Brown

  He pressed his lips into a line. Only a woman in utter pain would consider such drastic options. “Have you no sense of what a divorce would mean? The scrutiny, the gossip would fall more harshly upon you than upon me.”

  “I am prepared to weather it.”

  She spoke softly, but he believed her as much as if she had made her declaration in the strongest of tones from the hilltops.

  “And why would you wish to endure such ignominy?”

  “Because I have no wish to be the source of your marital misery.”

  “Have I ever said I was miserable?”

  “Not in words.”

  Her response gave him pause. He had lacked the resolve to hold true to his vows, but that was changed. “I have given up my mistress.”

  “I have no wish for you to cease your affair.”

  She was being more foolish by the minute, he decided.

  “Do you not see that I wish for you to be free to lead the life you desire?” she pressed. “I refuse to be your shackles.”

  “Do you wish for my freedom or yours?”

  She frowned, and he regretted having spoken out of jealousy.

  “We would both of us be free,” she acknowledged.

  “Have you considered what a divorce would do to our families?”

  She looked down. “I have.”

  He had thought divorce an idea that came from the spur of the moment.

  “You cannot have fully considered the consequences of seeking a divorce,” he said.

  “Ours would not be the first, and our families are well connected such that the divorce may be a quiet one, if you will.”

  “Our families might never forgive us.”

  “I do not expect that they would forgive us when I have not forgiven myself.”

  “Damnation, Trudie, if you are not able to forgive me just yet, I will accept that. But a divorce would be senseless.”

  “On the contrary, I think it quite sensible. The more I think on it, the more I am convinced it is the best solution, no matter the pain and difficulties that will follow.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I have never known you to be frivolous before. Indeed, it was a quality I quite admired in you till you decided to go to Château Follet. And while your decision to make of me a cuckold infuriated me—”

  She groaned and looked away.

  He stepped toward her. “But I am prepared to forgive you for that.”

  “I have no wish for your forgiveness! I do not deserve it!”

  “But you wish to punish us both for that?”

  “Do you not see the sacrifice I am offering with a divorce?”

  “It may be a sacrifice but it is most idiotic!”

  Her mouth fell open, and of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and devour her lips.

  “Aye, idiotic, nonsensical, foolhardy.”

  She straightened in anger.

  “What is it you fear, Trudie?” he inquired.

  She took a step back from him. “I fear a life of misery for us both.”

  “I think you fear what you discovered at Château Follet. I think, while you are ashamed of the corporal responses of your body, you desire it, too. You relished all that had transpired at Château Follet.”

  She faltered but replied, “I may have given into lesser instincts in the moment, but in the clarity of distance, I see no benefit to such indulgences.”

  “And the benefit of condemning what is natural to your body, to what pleases you?”

  She lifted her chin. “So that I might not as easily fall prey to temptations.”

  “You lie to yourself.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I saw you in the throes of ecstasy, my love. Your body desires it no less now than it did then.”

  “I have the benefit of understanding and better judgment now.”

  “Do you? I will wager the wanton little harlot lives strong in you still.”

  He noticed that she trembled a little. Anticipation rose within him.

  “If you can prove otherwise, I will grant your divorce.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  LEOPOLD BEHELD HER WIDENED eyes. For a brief moment, he doubted the wisdom of what he had just offered. Perhaps her carnal responses could only be elicited by her debaucher, and that congress with her husband could not be as exciting as congress with a stranger. But even if the answer to his question was not favorable, he had to know if she could be aroused by him.

  “I think that quite unnecessary—” she began.

  “You fear you will fail my challenge.”

  He held her gaze, refusing to relinquish her.

  “Prevail and I will leave you in peace,” he said. After seconds that felt like minutes, he added, “And if you insist on a divorce, consider it your parting gift to me.”

  After another long silence, she said in a small voice, “Very well.”

  Slowly, she turned and led him back into the house. At the bottom of the stairs that led to her chamber, she hesitated. She had not looked at him since accepting his challenge. Her gaze still forward, she ascended the stairs.

  He followed her, noticing the gentle sway of her hips, the subtle outline of her arse under the fabric of her dress.

  Once inside her bedchamber, she still could not look at him. He stood behind her, inches separating them.

  “I was a fool, Trudie,” he whispered as he slid his fingers from her wrist up arm, “to have taken you for granted.”

  She sucked in her breath at his words and shivered at his touch.

  “P-Perhaps we both have been guilty,” she said meekly.

  He put his hand upon her shoulder and attempted to knead away the tension there.

  “Our wedding night might not have been the best start, but perhaps it could end on a note much improved.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed the side of her neck and thought he heard a whimper. Sweeping away the soft tendrils at her nape, he trailed kisses all over the back of her neck.

  Noticing that she still remained fairly tense, he gently turned her around to face him. “I fully intend to make love to you in the manner you deserve without regard to my own pleasure. You need not fear that I shall force myself upon you.”

  “Indeed?” she replied in a shaky voice.

  “I deserve no pleasure for the part I played at Château Follet. I would pay any penance, Trudie. You have but to name it.”

  She choked a little. “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  “What can I do to merit your unequivocal forgiveness?”

  She thought for a moment. “Perhaps you warrant your own spanking.”

  He stared at her in disbelief at first. A ray of hope bloomed.

  “With a wooden paddle to boot,” she added.

  He chuckled. “I would gladly receive it from your hand, madam. You may take a flogger and whip me within an inch of my life if you wish.”

  “You know quite well I could do no such thing.”

  “You could make me pleasure you every night while forbidding me to spend.”

  Her eyes appeared wet with new tears as she replied with a lifted chin, “P-Perhaps I will.”

  “Dearest Trudie,” he murmured, cupping her face in both his hands. He brushed his lips over hers, felt her breath tremble beneath his mouth. She was divine. He crushed his lips over hers, not realizing how famished he was till he tasted of her. He kissed every part of her mouth, taking mouthfuls, delving deep into the orifice to quench the lust flaming through him.

  She was timid at first, but then her reservations gave way like a breached dam. She returned his kiss with equal vigor, equal desperation, equal longing. They consumed one another till the need to breathe necessitated a pause.

  “Are you certain you want this?” he murmured atop her lips before kissing his way down her neck.

  She arched into him, making the blood rush to his groin. “Yes, Leopold, yes.”

  As his mouth caressed her throat, her collar, his hands reached
behind her for the pins. Frustrated that he could not find them all, he grasped the bodice of her gown and tore it from her. He picked her up, set her against the wall, and locked his mouth to hers once more. His tongue dove into her mouth over and over. He molded his body to hers, seeking the ample curves he had come to find enchanting. His hardness pressed into her belly. It seemed she pressed back.

  Resisting the urge to flip up her gown and take her then, he turned her around to face the wall so that he could untie her skirts and petticoats while he kissed the nape of her neck. The muslin pooled upon the ground. He reached around her hip to cup her mound through her shift, the only barrier to that most delightful flesh. He rubbed the shift between her legs and was rewarded with a moan. Soon he could feel dampness upon the garment. He thrust his hips at her, a promise of what was to come. She ground herself into his hand.

  “Patience, my love,” he whispered into her ear.

  She shivered but stayed herself from further movement. Stepping back, he unlaced her stays, then reached for those succulent breasts. He squeezed the orbs through the shift.

  “You wish to make me suffer, sir?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why will you not ravish me?”

  Emotion soared through him, causing his groin to tighten. At that moment, he could not have been more in love with Trudie. He yanked the shift down, baring her body. He was relieved to see she still possessed more fullness than most women. He palmed a buttock, digging his fingers into the succulent flesh. She released a satisfied grunt.

  “It would please me greatly to grant your request, my love,” he said.

  He most likely surprised her with the force and swiftness with which he drew her to the bed.

  “My god, you are a sight, Trudie,” he groaned, raking his gaze from her neck to her supple thighs. He caressed with hands and mouth every inch of her loveliness before settling his hand between her thighs.

  He parted the moist lips below, eliciting a moan, almost a whimper. He smiled as his hand drifted further down and beheld her heaving chest, her nipples hard and ripe. His fingers walked through her folds, finding the slit between and circling it, as his lips pulled a nipple into his mouth. Trudie gasped loudly as his fingers entered her, pressing inside of her. His tongue dragged slowly across her nipple. He slid his fingers out, circling her entry, resisting the urge to press back inside. He teased her as she stared into his eyes, imploring him to enter her again.

  “Soon, my love,” he growled. “First, I must taste your sweetness.”

  Lowering his head between her legs, he took in her heady aroma. He parted the lips to her paradise and tongued her there, causing her to shudder. Her thighs brushed against the side of his head. He teased her gently at the base of her entrance, circling it with her tongue before entering, twisting inside of her before withdrawing. She gave a load moan and clutched the bedclothes. He pushed deeper into her, making her gasp. Over and over he worked his tongue upon her, in her, building her pleasure. He dragged his tongue through her wet valley and to that delightful condensation of sensation. He took that swollen nub into his mouth as he sank two fingers into her wet heat.

  Her body sprang against him as she uttered something loud and unintelligible. Then, as her back arched, her hips rose against his mouth hard, while he continued to suckle her bud of pleasure, and then she dropped to the bed as his fingers curled, sliding out from inside of her for a brief moment before driving back into her once more.

  “Oh, Leopold!” she cried.

  He exalted at the cry of his name. His fingers slipped in and out of her wetness easily. She shifted below him, left and right, up and down. He did his best to contain her while at the same time freeing the carnal within her. His mouth tiring, but his commitment unwavering, he was driven to break her, to feel her submit to him wholly and completely. He listened for the hunger to take her, for her climax to claim her as his fingers and tongue wrought rapture through her.

  Minutes later, her body bucked and shivered as her moans turned into cries. The moment was before him and he did not demur, intent on delivering an ecstasy that would leave no doubts that she desired him, needed him. She arched off the bed, thrusting into his mouth while his fingers drove deep inside her.

  “My God, My God!” she cried.

  He rode her out, licking, sucking, his fingers gliding in and out of her, feeling her nectar flow around him. When it seemed she could endure no more, he eased his ministrations and withdrew his fingers. He drank in the sight of her as she melted into the bed, a blush gracing her cheeks, her eyes bright and dilated. His own arousal pressed painfully against his trousers, but he let her have a moment of calm as he removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat.

  “I suppose you have proved your point,” she murmured with lowered lashes. “I am a wanton little harlot.”

  “And I would have you in no other way, my love,” he growled as he climbed over her. He kissed her, pressing into her mouth all the desire pent up within him. She returned his kiss, which fueled his ardor even higher.

  He rolled her atop him and pulled her legs up so that she straddled him. Cupping the back of her head, he shoved his tongue between her lips. His hips thrust at her, his hardness seeking her wet heat.

  To his surprise, she reached for the buttons of his fall. He would not release her mouth, but she managed to undo a few. When he could no longer deny the craving between his legs, he allowed her to undo his fall completely and helped her to free his shaft. Before he could object, she had lowered her head and engulfed his erection.

  Bloody hell...

  It was the most marvelous sensation, the exquisite rapture humbling him. Dear, dear Trudie.

  “You must use me for your pleasure,” he managed to whisper, though every nerve begged for her to cradle his erection in her mouth and never let go. He pulled her off him.

  “Come,” he said, “ride me as one rides a steed, as you had done at Château Follet.”

  He lifted her hips, held in place with one hand while he straightened himself, then guided her gently down. Her eyes widened as the head of his rod pierced her folds. Gripping both her hips with both hands, he settled her further down him. Her lips parted as her tight tunnel swallowed him. When she had taken his length, he ground her against his pelvis. Her eyes rolled toward the back of her head.

  He drew in a long breath to steady himself. If he allowed himself, his pleasure would burst through within minutes. Gradually, he lifted her hips so that she slid up his length before he pressed her back down. After several minutes, she found his rhythm and moved with him. Her breath quickened, her brow furrowed. “My God, you are marvelous,” he breathed.

  Her gasps grew louder and more frequent. He thrust his hips more vigorously at her, seeking to bury himself as deep within her as he could, his sight filled with her bosom, the large orbs bouncing up and down. The sound of wet flesh slapping upon flesh filled the room with her gasps and cries.

  “Leopold...” she cried before her body erupted into shudders.

  He rammed himself into her, bucking against her as she flexed and quaked about him. The tension coiled within him shot through his shaft as he felt her body ready to collapse. Holding her aloft, he thrust into her until his desire had completely drained into her before allowing her to crumple atop him. They lay, breast to breast, breathing hard, their perspiration mingled together.

  “Your pardon,” he said when they had both collected their breaths. “I ought not have spent, but I can pleasure you still...May I?”

  Turning her head, she looked at him. “Are you asking permission of me? Is that customary for masters at Château Follet to question their students?”

  “Very little is customary at Château Follet.” He paused to search her countenance. “Do you—would you—wish to continue the lessons we had started at Château Follet?”

  Her lashes lowered, and the ensuing silence was agony to him. She looked up at him. “Yes.”

  His heart raced anew. “Then you
no longer wish for a divorce?”

  “It was agreed that you would grant it to me only if I prevailed against what you deemed my true nature.”

  “It is one matter to succumb to the carnal that resides in all humans, another to willfully desire it, and to desire it with me.”

  “I desire it, Leopold.”

  No statement had ever sounded sweeter to him. “Then you mean to forgive me?”

  She spoke with a tremor. “I suppose I do.”

  He caught her hand in his tightly, hoping that his shaft would recover soon that he might claim her once more, and ease the bursting of his heart through the heat of congress. He kissed her hand.

  “I vow, as your husband, to indulge your every desire, to bring you relentless pleasure, and to cherish and love you, my love, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

  Her eyes glimmered. She pressed his hand in return. “This, too, shall be my vow, dear Leopold.”

  With his free hand, he cupped her chin and raised her lips to meet his. As he kissed her, drinking in the happiness that Trudie was his wife and he her husband, he silently acknowledged Château Follet, grateful and excited that they might find many occasions to return.

  For further reading, check out:

  OTHER TITLES BY GEORGETTE BROWN

  Steamy Regency Collection

  An Indecent Wager (Book #1)

  Surrendering to the Rake (Book #2)

  That Wicked Harlot (Book #3)

  Tempting a Marquess (Book #4)

  Tempting a Marquess for Christmas (Book #5)

  Other

  Pride, Prejudice & Pleasure

  The Countess and the Rake

  COPYRIGHT

  Published by Wind Color Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Em Brown

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.