What a Widow Wants

by Jenna Jaxon

“Nothing so sinister. I told him you’d agreed to marry me and he almost drowned in his drink.” Matthew laughed, and the vibrations coursed throughout her like a plucked harp chord. “When I also informed him I wouldn’t be shooting with him next week, he baptized himself anew with my best brandy. He’s gone to change before the announcement. I’ll have a word with him when he returns.”

  “And will you have a word with me later?” Fanny rubbed her breasts against his chest, making his cock stir.

  “Trust me, I’ll have more than a word,” he replied, and sank his mouth onto her to seal the bargain.

  CHAPTER 15

  Smoothing the Milk of Roses lotion over her face, Fanny gazed determinedly into the mirror sitting atop the toilette table. A snowy linen handkerchief in hand, she compared her skin to the fabric’s intense white and frowned. Her trip to Brighton had ravaged her appearance. She’d relaxed her guard while at the seaside, lulled by the coolness of the weather into thinking that the sun’s rays had weaker power somehow. As a result, her face had become more than a few shades darker than the other ladies of her acquaintance. Compared to the handkerchief she looked like a pair of York tan gloves. Such a trifle had never bothered her before, but Lady Skelton’s comments today about a tan complexion had brought the point home. Ladies were supposed to be pale.

  Did Matthew consider such things important, as Lady Skelton had implied? She hardly knew what he thought of her appearance, for he’d always simply wanted to be with her. Should she begin to take more care of such things? Had she done so during her marriage, would Stephen not have strayed? For the first time ever, she contemplated that her husband’s actions might have been partially her own fault. In any case, that pain was done. She’d look forward now, to a life of love with Matthew.

  Wiping her hands on the handkerchief, she rose and tossed the scrap of linen onto the table. The maid had unlaced her stays, helped her on with her pale green dressing gown, and laid out her nightgown before departing to help the other guests. Fanny removed the two simple combs that had held her hair out of the way while she had primped and her thick dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Matthew had always loved her hair flowing around them as they joined together.

  The memory of them in bed in his old bachelor rooms in London made her breathe deeply. At any moment she could recall the first time she’d seen the tall mahogany bed with the deep maroon coverlet. Her cheeks must have been as deep a shade of red, so embarrassed had she been to be there. But enraged enough at her husband to go through with her seduction of Lord Lathbury. She’d known him only from the dances and conversations at balls they’d attended when she’d had her come-out, and the proposal she’d refused. Still, she’d instinctively known of his deep desire for her.

  The seduction had been quite easy, in fact. She’d seen him across the ballroom at Lady Beaumont’s, summoned her courage and all her charm, and strode up to him. His eyes had widened when she proposed a stroll in the garden. The weather had cooperated, that night in late May being pleasantly warm. Moonlight streamed over the precisely clipped lawn, almost as light as day. Light enough that she could see first shock, then desire in his face when she suggested she accompany him home from the ball. Most likely he’d heard the gossip, for he never asked why she’d come to him.

  Perhaps Matthew had dreamed of them doing this, for he immediately took charge of the plan, explaining how she should take a hired carriage to his rooms, how to disguise herself to avoid recognition. It had all gone as though the gods approved their joining, for no one had discovered their deception for the entire four months of the affair. But that first night had been the most special.

  Once she arrived at his apartment, covered in a cloak she’d borrowed from Lady Beaumont with a plea of a fever, she’d turned shy. She didn’t recall that they had talked very much. He’d taken the cloak, asked if she wanted some lemon water, but she’d shook her head, too nervous to speak by then. So he’d gathered her into his arms and kissed her. At his touch she’d melted inside, his profound desire for her so apparent she could feel it in her bones. A feeling she’d never experienced before, not even with Stephen.

  Gently and slowly, Matthew had undressed her and placed her on the tall bed, where she lay trembling until he joined her. She’d been more nervous than on her wedding night, wanting so much to please him. If she pleased him it wouldn’t matter that she was using him to exact revenge on her husband. She still remembered the slow, almost reverent way he’d covered her, then entered her, as if worshipping her with his body. He’d filled her so entirely she’d cried out in completion on the very first thrust, sobbing as she shattered around him. When he’d finished, he’d gathered her into his arms and held her while she’d cried. Tears of hurt, anger, and despair had flowed onto his comforting chest, washing away everything save the regret that she’d married the wrong man.

  They’d had four months of love in that comfortable bed—and other places. Then as now they had gloried in finding unexpected and even dangerous locales in which to enjoy one another. And even though tonight they would meet in a conventional bed, at the conventional time for love play, still she could not wait to enfold him in her arms again. The place didn’t matter; the man did.

  The image of Matthew naked before her, his lean body with smooth skin stretched over taut muscles, his cock jutting straight out to her, made her sex weep, and her breasts swell in joyous anticipation. Her nipples furled tight, poking the delicate green silk outward like two flower buds about to burst.

  The clock on the mantel struck one o’clock. He should be here soon. God, let him be here soon.

  She moved the fine batiste nightgown to a nearby chair. She’d not need that before morning. Checking the decanter on the bedside table, she unstoppered it to discover an excellent cognac. They’d always wanted a libation afterward if possible. Matthew truly thought of everything.

  Nothing else to do now but wait.

  Restless, she wandered the room, peeping out the window into the inky blackness. No romantic moon tonight. Not that they needed one. Why didn’t he come?

  A scratch at the door sent Fanny scrambling to open it. Hand on the handle, an inner voice cautioned her to be sure and she called, “Who is it?”

  “Me.” The deep baritone sent a chill down her spine.

  Thumbing the latch, she opened the door a slit and Matthew sped in, still fully dressed from dinner.

  “What is wrong?” She pushed the door closed, turned the latch, and hurried to him.

  “Why would something be wrong?” He took in her appearance from top to toe, his gaze lingering on her bare feet. Dipping his head he tasted her lips, his own holding a lingering sweetness from his after-dinner brandy. “Everything I see is very, very right.”

  “Why are you still dressed? I expected you to arrive ready for bed.” Not wearing so many clothes it would take an hour for him to divest himself.

  “I think I will be less conspicuous in these clothes if I am caught going from your room to mine. Wearing this”—he motioned to his formal attire—“I can plead a cranky guest needing some small notion from the kitchen. Attired in a banyan, no matter how innocent the circumstance, I will be thought on my way to or from a tryst.” He ran his thumb down her cheek, along her jaw. “And as we have not yet announced our betrothal, I would rather my future wife not have a scandal attached to her when we wed.”

  Glorying in his touch, she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “Well, then, I am satisfied.”

  Matthew chuckled and clasped her face in both hands. “You, my dear, have no idea of the meaning of that word. Yet.” Drawing her to him, he seized her lips once more, drinking her in until she gasped for air.

  “Did you not eat enough at dinner, my lord? You seem ravenous now.”

  “A different dish for a different palate.” He lifted her, set her on the bed, and slid the silk fabric of her robe up her thighs.

  Groaning, Fanny fell back on the bed as his hands continued upward u
ntil she lay bare and exposed to him. Cool air wafted over her as he blew gently, ruffling her dark curls. His thumbs brushed through the thicket, stroking the flesh of her entrance and drawing a guttural moan from her. Matthew had always had an instinct for what a woman wanted.

  “Relax, love. Allow the pleasure to draw the tension from you and allow me to give you the pleasure.” He spread her folds and kissed her deeply, his clever tongue touching her pleasure spot just enough to prompt another whimper. “Does that feel good?”

  “You know it does.” Fanny wriggled her hips, wanting to push against him, but knowing if she tried to go too fast he’d simply withdraw. Still, the frantic pulse in her core spoke of a need deep inside her. Begged for its fulfilment. “Can’t we—”

  “Shhh.” The shushing became a subtle vibration on her pleasure nub, sending her head spinning, her need soaring.

  “Ohhh, damn you, Matthew.”

  The vibration increased until her legs clenched around his back, her toes curling.

  Slowly, he eased his thumb into her channel, circling it around her entrance while his tongue danced on that special spot above.

  The tension began to spiral upward, bringing Fanny close to the edge. “Yes, yes, Matthew. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, my love.” The words were muffled, but his mouth maintained the promised contact. Then he withdrew his thumb, replacing it with two fingers sliding slowly and deeply into her, shattering her self-control.

  Her body uncontrollably gripping him, Fanny abandoned herself to soft squeals of bliss until she sagged onto the mattress. Her lover continued to lick and stroke, until she ceased shuddering and lay boneless on the bed.

  Vaguely she noted he now stood before her, but she was too busy gasping for breath, which gave way to drowsing once her heartbeat returned to normal. The bed dipped and she was sliding over to one side of the bed.

  “It’s a chilly night, my love. Let’s get beneath the covers.”

  Sated and unwilling to move, Fanny found her bottom lifted and the coverlet and sheets dragged back. Then she was underneath them, pressed to a warm, naked body. “Ummm. I like that,” she said, stealing her hand across his broad, sleek chest.

  “Anything in particular?” The playful lechery in his voice helped rouse her from her passion-drunk state.

  “Humm. All your parts are impressive, my lord.” She rolled up onto her side, staring into dark blue fathomless eyes. “However, I can think of two or three that are especially nice.”

  “Pray continue. I am all ears.”

  “I think not, my lord.” She rubbed the dark hairs on his chest, brushing over his small, erect nipples. “You have many more parts than that.”

  “Continue.” He traced a finger down her breast, lingering on her nipple until it perked up, as rigid as his. “My particularly impressive parts.”

  “Your wit of course.” Fanny kissed his forehead. “A remarkable part indeed.”

  “If it delights you, I will not deny it, although I thought surely there were other parts that impressed you more.” Sliding down until his head dipped beneath the cover, Matthew traced a circle around Fanny’s nipple with his tongue, then latched onto it and sucked.

  “Oh, yes.” Fanny purred, her breasts swelling with the tender manipulation. “You do delight me in many ways, my love. Let us see if I can reciprocate.” Slipping her hand across his chest, over his hard stomach, to the proud staff, standing at full mast. She grasped him eagerly and Matthew gasped, then nodded for her to continue.

  “Is this another of my impressive parts?” His eyes closed and his arms came around her.

  “Very impressive.” Fanny slid her fingers up and down his cockstand, attending not only to her strokes but to his face to alert her to the signs of his approaching pleasure. “I would rank it as most impressive, my lord, save there is one part yet that I would deem so extraordinary it must overshadow this magnificent beast.” She squeezed him, stroking faster, making it his turn to groan aloud.

  “Oh, Fanny, you will kill me.” Matthew rolled on top of her, rucked up her gown, drove his shaft between her thighs, and impaled her on his rampant cock.

  Nothing like their first time together; however, the magnificent feel of his claiming her fully was the same. And now they could go forward—he pulled back and thrust into her again and again—as husband and wife, perhaps as it should have been from the very beginning.

  He strained above her, his face beautiful in its concentration. Eyes closed, Matthew thrust and thrust in a powerful rhythm that once again wound her up to the point at which she must shatter or die.

  “Fanny, oh, Fanny.” His face contorted with effort, Matthew drove into her one final time, spilling his seed into her.

  The heat of him set her on fire.

  “Matthew.” She convulsed around him, anchored to him through more than the mere physical aspect of love.

  Slumping on top of her, Matthew sighed and grunted, then rolled over and lay panting, an earsplitting grin on his face. “I cannot wait to discover what you think my most impressive part.”

  When she could speak again, Fanny propped herself up on her elbow and looked him in the eyes. “Your heart, my love. Nothing is greater or more generous, or nobler than your heart, which is the sum of your parts, I believe.” Leaning over, she kissed him sweetly on the lips. “I thank God, and you, for giving it to me.”

  “It has been and always shall be yours, love.” He gathered her to him, nestling her warm against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, her long hair fanned out across his chest.

  Contentment as she had never known before stole through Fanny, relaxing her into a lovely, drowsy state. Her view of him from this vantage point was magnificent. Gazing across the expanse of his body, she noted the fine sheen of sweat glistening on his chest and down his ridged stomach. That she had caused that patina to appear filled her with happiness. The carelessly flung sheet hid more interesting matters, but as much as she wanted to renew their passion, for the moment she was spent. She yawned, kissed his shoulder, and closed her eyes. “Wake me before you leave, my love.”

  “You may depend upon it.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Shall I blow out the lamps?”

  Yawning, she shook her head. “Don’t get up. I’m so very comfortable just like this.”

  “Your wish is my command, as always.”

  She smiled at that. Not quite the case always, but she’d not fuss about it now. Perhaps in the future they would make together it would be.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  With a gasp, Fanny shot up, tangled in the covers and her bedclothes. She turned wide eyes to Matthew who sighed, and flung an arm over his face.

  “Who the devil is that at almost two o’clock in the morning?” Matthew whispered vehemently, his eyes piercingly cold.

  “How should I know?” she whispered back, rapping him smartly on the arm. Did he dare insinuate she’d invited someone else to her bedroom? “You are the only one I expected tonight. Maybe if I don’t answer they will go away.”

  They maintained silence for what seemed an aeon, but was likely only several seconds, and the tapping was repeated, along with a muffled voice calling to her.

  “Did that voice sound feminine to you?” she asked, untangling the covers then sliding to the floor.

  “It was indistinct, but I would say so.”

  “Then it’s most likely Jane.”

  Dark eyes on her, he tracked her carefully as she moved toward the door, but he’d relaxed nonetheless.

  Lord, was Matthew to prove a jealous lover now that they were about to be wed? If he thought her infidelity to Stephen was anything but revenge for his odious transgressions, then her betrothed was a fool. She tiptoed to the door and called, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Lady Lathbury, Lady Stephen. May I come in?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Fanny sent a stricken look to Matthew, who had bolted up at the name. Oh, dear Lord, she mouthed at him
. What do we do?

  He scrambled from the bed and bent to snatch his clothes from the pile where he’d disrobed.

  “Just a moment, my lady. I’m not dressed.” A quick glance around the room showed nowhere for Matthew to hide. Neither the wardrobe nor the screen were large enough, and the latter was raised on legs so his feet would be seen in any case. She rushed to him and whispered, “What can we do? What will she say if she finds you here?”

  “Nothing you would want to hear in polite company, I imagine.” He’d managed to draw his shirt over his head, but his entire bottom half was bare. “Mother isn’t a high stickler; however, finding her son in a woman’s room in absolute disarray will bring down a firestorm upon my head, and a chastisement upon yours, that we do not wish to experience. Trust me on this if on nothing else.”

  “What if we tell her we are betrothed?”

  “No difference. Except additional consternation that we hadn’t told her already that we were engaged.” He strode to the window and peered out. “I doubt the fall would kill me, although I might need to say my wedding vows from a sick bed with broken bones.”

  “I forbid you to go out that window, Matthew.”

  “I see no other choice, my dear.”

  “Lady Stephen?” The door handle rattled. “Are you quite well?”

  “Dear God.” Fanny grabbed the clothing Matthew was clutching to his chest and threw it under the bed. “Get under there.”

  “I won’t fit.” Still he dropped to his knees, then flat to the floor.

  Unfortunately, the bed was not as high as some others she’d been in, but there was no time to lose. She put her hands on his derriere and pushed. The uncarpeted floor assisted their efforts and Matthew disappeared beneath the low-hanging blue coverlet. Tossing his shoes after him, she called, “I’m coming,” and hastily spread the covers up, desperately trying to make it seem that only one person had been in that bed.

  Thank God she’d never taken off her dressing gown. She pulled at it to make it hang right, then tying the belt, ran swiftly to the door, turned the lock, and opened it.