“I think your reaction shows that you know full well where it is,” he teased. His palm spread over the thatch of hair that covered her sex. His fingers stroked her folds, tugging gently on her fur.
“You will need to trust me and open your legs. I promise to make you happy, to bring you pleasure, but you must do as I say. Now open for me.”
Slowly, she parted her legs. His hand slipped betwixt her thighs where his fingers played. Sheer pleasure washed over her at his tender ministrations, and she gasped. He lowered his head to each of her breasts in turn, and the sensation in her quim doubled then trebled to the point she could no longer remain still. She shifted restlessly, tossing her head. Whatever it was Gregory was doing was unexpected. Holly never imagined the marriage act would feel, well, quite this good.
Her breasts felt bereft, missing his attention as he shifted down her body, settling his shoulders between her thighs.
“You are so wet!” he exclaimed.
“I am so sorry, I don’t know how to stop it,” she whispered, mortified.
“Hush, my dear, to be wet is a good thing. It is a sign that you want me as much as I want you. You are a beautiful young woman, Holly.”
She relaxed at his praise, until he did something she could never have conceived. Gregory lowered his head and snaked his tongue over her sensitive flesh. A flame ignited that burned so bright Holly simply had to cry out, the sound escalating into a keening wail which grew in volume. Dazed, she wavered whilst hovering on an unknown crest. He nibbled her clitoris, and she soared to unimaginable peaks, calling his name repeatedly.
While she lay stupefied by passion, he moved to position his cock at her entrance. With gentle thrusts, he invaded her virgin channel. He was too big; she wriggled her hips in an effort to move away. He gave a guttural groan.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” she whispered. There was a huff of breath against her ear.
“No, but I fear I might hurt you. I am going to take you now and make you my wife, Holly. Relax, and this will go easier for you,” he instructed, his voice rasping.
He penetrated her softness. She felt torn inside and squealed a protest.
He covered her mouth with his; thrillingly, she realised his tongue matched the thrust of his hips. Although the whole mating process seemed strangely bizarre to her, it was also tremendously exciting. A pooling tension coiled tighter and tighter within her. She recognised that tension as a prelude to the culmination she’d experienced on his tongue. Running questing palms over his taut backside, she dipped her head into the crook of his neck. He smelled divine and so utterly masculine.
Holly yielded to her bridegroom’s pulsating body. Something spiralled inwardly. He was creating a need in her for more, so much more. The delicious feel of his cock rippling in and out, pressing on that certain place orchestrated yearning. She writhed beneath him.
With her nails digging into his shoulders, she begged him, pleaded with him, yet she wasn’t cognisant of her words. She lost focus, consumed by overwhelming pleasure as passion overcame her in its mindless thrall. His urgent pounding released that intense euphoria, and once again, she soared. If she was dying, then so be it, for this was the best experience that had ever happened to her; she had no desire to halt its sweet progress.
There was a sudden growl. Gregory held himself rigid above her. The hardened flesh of his manhood swelled inside her, pulsating. With a throaty cry, her bridegroom collapsed on her, his weight a delicious closeness which Holly embraced. After a few moments of recovery, Gregory laid beside her, pulling her into his embrace. He kissed her and slipped his arm under her. She snuggled into him, limp and exhausted.
“Are you all right?” he croaked.
“Yes. That was wonderful,” she breathed in his ear.
“It was?”
She stilled. He sounded perplexed.
“Why, did you expect otherwise?” she asked, fearing she had displeased him.
He tightened his embrace.
“I have heard that occasionally the pain of a breaching turns a woman off coupling for good. I am glad it hasn’t had that effect on you,” he answered.
“Ah, I see.” But she didn’t. She wondered why any woman would not enjoy what she’d just experienced. She loved the ultimate joy, the closeness that the marriage act afforded, especially now, cuddled in her husband’s strong, manly arms. Giving a deeply contented sigh, Holly’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she slept soundly.
Chapter 8
Gregory awoke before his wife. He rose and used a spill from the fire to light the chamber stick beside the bed. It was early, still dark outside. The flickering glow played across Holly’s girlish face, younger in the repose of sleep. He idly twirled a curl of her dark-gold hair and marvelled at how receptive she’d been to his husbandly advances. Gregory had taken her twice more during the night, and on each occasion she had clung to him, sleepily offering herself with open abandon. He felt humbled by her trust.
Here in this place where Bunty had never stayed, there had been no ghostly memories to ambush him, enabling him to perform as a loving bridegroom.
Today, however, they were to return to Lamberhurst where every corner of the estate reminded him of Bunty. How would he cope?
The ridiculous possibility of bringing Holly here every time he wished to mate crossed his mind, swiftly condemned by common sense. Physically different to Bunty’s slight form, Holly with her ample bosom and curved hips delighted him, and both women shared a sweetness of nature that pleased him.
Holly deserved a husband who would cherish her, but once he stepped inside the walls of Lamberhurst, beset by dark shadows from the past, could he be what she needed? He moved his finger and traced the golden curl from her hairline down to where it lay covering the nipple of one exposed breast. Gently, he moved it aside, revealing the rosy-tipped bud. His cock reared up hungrily, as though it hadn’t already spent the night in gluttony.
Leaning over her prone form, he bent his mouth to her bosom, taking the sweet peaked morsel of her flesh between his lips. There was time enough for another coupling before they needed to rise. She stirred at his touch and sighed; her eyes fluttered open. He returned her sleepy smile. She was so responsive, and who knew how long it would be before his conscience would allow him to enjoy his conjugal rights again.
Despite a covering of snow upon the ground, they made good time arriving at the house just before luncheon. The staff turned out en masse to greet them, just as they had done in the London house. Gregory was both proud and irritated by the display. Holly refused to be chivvied along the line and spoke cheerily with each and every member of the household; again, he felt torn by conflicting emotions.
Finally, Williams, the butler, called for three cheers for the new mistress, and afterwards Mrs Lane, the housekeeper, guided Holly upstairs in order to show her the chambers Gregory had ordered allocated in readiness for his new wife. Her rooms adjoined those where he now slept, situated on the opposite side of the house from where he and Bunty had resided so happily in the past.
After a substantial luncheon, he left her alone with her maid to unpack and settle in while he caught up on his correspondence. Later, Gregory visited the stables and ordered a horse saddled for riding. This was not his favourite because the steed needed time to recover from the wearisome ride home from London.
Gregory rode around his estate, visiting families to discuss their plans for the coming season regarding crops and livestock, making a mental list of the cottages in need of repairs. He was back in good time for a meeting with his estates manager before joining Holly again for tea in the drawing room.
They chatted contentedly about what they had both achieved that afternoon. He explained about the estate tenants while she listened politely. He listened indulgently as she then prattled on about crumpled silks and crushed crinoline. He thought her rather sweet.
That night, despite his concerns, he found that thanks to his greedy cock, he was able to perform as a husband oug
ht. Awoken late in the night by loud wailing, he turned onto his side and reached for his wife to offer reassurance but found the bed beside him cool and empty. To his disgust, Holly was missing. Gregory threw back the covers and reached for his robe then turned up the wick on the oil lamp. He held it aloft and left the room to search for her.
He knew which direction the cry had come from, and set off, certain Holly would have gone to find the source of the sound.
He came upon her as she was about to move up a flight of servant’s stairs.
“Whatever are you about?” he asked.
She started so violently that she dropped the candle she was holding. Quickly, he stomped on the burning wick, extinguishing the flame.
“Gregory, you gave me such a fright! There is something wrong; I heard screaming and crying coming from up there. Please go and find out the cause!”
He hesitated before replying. “Will it put your mind at ease if I go?”
“Of course,” she replied, a small frown of puzzlement crinkled her forehead.
“Very well, I shall escort you back to your chambers and then return to find out if aught is amiss. It was probably one of the maids having a nightmare and nothing more,” he reassured her.
“I will wait here,” she replied.
“No, it is cold and dark. You are shivering, come back to bed,” he insisted. Taking her arm, he began to stride in the direction of their chambers.
She yanked her arm from his, stubbornly refusing to move. Gregory had no intention of wasting breath in arguing. He dipped and hoisted her up so her head and arms lay over his shoulder, one arm curved about her thighs holding her secure.
“Put me down!” she demanded shrilly.
His reply was to land a hard swat on her plump behind. Holly squealed and thumped his back. Gregory pressed on regardless, ignoring her protestations until they reached the chamber, whereupon he sat on the edge of the bed and deposited her to stand firmly encased between his knees.
He shook his head at her, exasperated. This hysterical reasoning was the result of him marrying a bride barely out of the schoolroom. Well, he knew just how to deal with recalcitrant girls. Bunty had been but seventeen the day they’d wed. Admittedly, he had not been much older at twenty, but he had soon discovered that spanking his young wife put a stop to her histrionic vapours. It had also been a great way to settle arguments between them.
He had no intention of spanking Holly for simply being concerned about a servant, but he had no compunction at all about spanking her should he feel such action was required.
“There are servants aplenty to deal with someone having a nightmare. I assure you that none of them would be happy to find their master or mistress arriving within their private quarters, forcing them to admit to the fact they had disturbed their employer’s sleep,” he pointed out reasonably.
“I disagree…”
He landed a hard thwack on her rear before she could utter another word. Yanking her forward, he set her down to sit upon his lap. Her huff of surprise and indignant face made him want to laugh. His lip twitched with amusement.
“In order to please you, my pretty little imp, I shall go and check if all is well upstairs. Do I have your word that you will remain here, warm in bed? I have already lost one wife and I do not wish to lose another quite so soon.”
He couldn’t quite believe he had used levity in respect of Bunty’s death. He examined his conscience and was surprised to find nothing lacked.
“I’m sorry, Gregory, I know I have a strong will. Mama often warned me about it. I will do as you say and wait for you here, yes, but please could you leave the oil lamp burning and take the candle with you? I am nervous of the darkness.”
Gregory tucked her back into bed and kissed her forehead. Relighting the candle, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Holly crept along the darkened passage. The lamp threw strange dark shadows on the walls, elongating her figure to a grotesque size. The bitter winter breeze gusted down the draughty corridors and cut through the thin lawn of her night-rail, she shivered. The lamp tilted as she tugged her shawl closed across her chest, dripping hot oil onto her wrist.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, her voice oddly hollow in the stillness of the night. She came to a halt and listened; the crying seemed to have stopped.
Where was Gregory? He had been gone ages. She’d finally decided enough was enough, and despite running the risk of the threatened spanking, she’d made the decision to go and find him.
She wondered whether he had already returned to the bedchamber. She dithered, undecided what to do.
“Holly? I ordered you to stay in bed!”
She started guiltily at Gregory’s approach.
“You were gone for so long; I became anxious,” she explained hastily.
He tsked crossly. Placing his free hand in the centre of her shoulders, he guided her back along the passageway into their chamber where he set the lamp down safely. He pointed to the bed.
“Get in, before you catch a chill. You are lucky I don’t take you over my knee for such flagrant disobedience.”
Holly scrambled into bed, pulling the covers up under her chin, fully aware they would offer no protection if Gregory decided to spank her. A sudden thrill shivered down her spine at the thought. He hadn’t hurt her with that stinging swat earlier. It had stung, yes, but her nightgown had absorbed most of the blow.
She watched his tall muscular frame as he bent to tend the fire; Holly acknowledged that it had been quite exciting to have him take charge in such an unexpected way. She wriggled, and that odd wetness seeped from her quim once more. Gregory said it was a natural reaction; he even appeared pleased that she leaked. However, Holly found the sensation unsettling.
He threw off his robe and joined her in the bed where he hauled her against his chest.
“We have lost too much of the night. Sleep,” he commanded.
“But what caused the commotion?” she asked, rearing her head indignantly.
Gregory gave a weary sigh.
“As I suspected, a maid had simply suffered a nightmare. Now go to sleep before I decide to spank your delectable bottom, sans nightgown.”
Holly immediately cuddled down upon his chest, giving a little shiver of something that was definitely more than apprehension.
Chapter 9
Next she knew, there was a clatter and a bang. She sat up. Matilda placed a shovel of coal into the fire. It was freezing and, reaching for her shawl, Holly wrapped it close about her.
“Morning, milady. The master said to let you sleep until ten because you’d had a bad night,” Matilda told her, crossing to open the curtains. The chamber was instantly flooded with bright white light.
“We had a significant snowfall last night; it is so cold out there!”
Holly slipped from the bed and joined her maid at the bay window. The view across the gardens and parkland beyond was stunning, the world transformed into a blinding crystalline wonderland.
“Good lawd, what is that?” Matilda exclaimed, pointing at three black, moving objects which stood out stark against the pristine white of the snow. “A group of enormous crows?” the maid mused humorously.
“I think mayhap they are children, playing in the snow. How sweet. They must be from one of the tenant cottages,” Holly guessed.
“Mr Williams won’t be at all pleased if he sees them, the cheeky devils,” Matilda said, nodding sagely.
She turned her gaze on Holly who was now shivering in her bare feet while she peered out of the window.
“Miss, you will freeze! Climb back into bed and drink your tea while ’tis hot. I shall fetch the water for your wash. Oops, I called you ‘miss’ again…sorry, I meant, milady!” Matilda apologised over her shoulder. She left the chamber to retrieve the promised water.
Arriving in the hall some while later, Holly was met by her husband. He looked somewhat foreboding.
“Come with me to the drawing room. There are some th
ings that I need to explain to you,” he said brusquely.
Holly followed him into the withdrawing room, wondering what she could possibly have done to annoy him. A fire burned merrily, throwing out much-needed heat. She was glad she had decided to wear her velvet gown today for warmth. Even though it was a dull navy and was her least favourite, it did offer protection from the chill.
Settled by the fireside, Holly held out her hands, to the heat. Gregory began to speak.
It took her a moment to comprehend his words.
“What do you mean, you have children. Whose children?” she asked, bewildered.
He coughed. “They are mine, of course, born by my first wife, Bunty. It was Libby, the eldest, whom you heard last night. She has been suffering from nightmares ever since her mother died.”
Her temper rose, and she swallowed back an angry retort. She must try to remain calm.
“Why have you not spoken of the children’s existence before now, and why did you not explain all this to me last night when I became anxious?”
“I thought the idea of another woman’s children might decide you against our union and I wanted you to meet the girls directly after I explained the situation. In fact, they are on their way down now with their nanny to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh,” she said, too shocked to say more.
“You need have no fear of them interfering with our daily life. They are well cared for, and their days are kept full and busy on my instructions,” he continued hastily.
“Oh…” She could not think of anything more polite to say. Her mind was racing with many questions and accusations. If the children were indeed on their way to meet her, she would not speak her mind until they were well out of earshot.
A tap at the door was followed by the entrance of a portly nanny in a starched uniform. She was accompanied by three young girls of graduating height, all clothed in black.
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