Hell In A Handbasket

by Anders, Annabelle

  All the while, their mouths devoured each other.

  “I should slow down,” he said, his hand between her legs, “but you’re so wet, so ready.”

  She didn’t want for him to slow his pace. She’d waited a lifetime for this. Feeling emboldened by her desire, she used both her feet and her hands to free him of his breeches.

  His full arousal was now quite exposed and quite apparent.

  So natural, so beautiful. Sophia wrapped her legs around his thighs.

  “I am ready. I’m ready for you.” She whispered the words, urging him.

  What was he waiting for? She suddenly felt frantically empty. Moving her hips, she slid along his length until the tip was near her opening.

  “Oh, God, Sophia, you’re killing me, after all,” he murmured against her skin.

  She shifted and moved along his silky hardness but knew there must be more. There was a liquid down there! She should be embarrassed, but she only felt need.

  And then he assumed command befitting of his rank.

  He lifted up for a moment and hovered at her entrance. Gazing down, his eyes were hooded with desire. She watched him, trustingly, until she could not stand it one second longer.

  And then he took her.

  He felt hard, hot, slick… and right. He was thick, but her flesh eased open around him. She welcomed him even as he stretched her, meeting each thrust of his with one of her own. She would have him take ownership of her entire body.

  And then his thrusts grew stronger.

  She reached up and grasped the rails of the bedframe. She would meet him. She would take him.

  As though her life depended on it.

  The muscles he used to hold himself off her began to shake. Sophia did not want him to hold himself away from her. She pushed at his elbow, causing him to collapse.

  “Hellcat,” he muttered into her neck. But he continued driving into her, slower and longer now.

  “Don’t hold back, Dev,” she said. “Don’t protect me. Don’t hide anything from me.”

  He pumped into her, deep and purposefully, with a violence, almost. Resting atop her, his weight pushed her into the mattress. But he did not pause for long. Instead, he lunged into her again with equal ferocity.

  Sophia arched her back, welcoming his passion, all of his touch. The two of them had grown slick from their exertions. She tasted the salt on his skin and nipped at his shoulder with her teeth.

  His pace quickened again, and she followed his rhythm.

  This was not to be slow and gentle.

  This was not to be a tentative love.

  It was meant to bring all of their feelings, their emotions, to the surface… just in case.

  She was so close, so close…

  And then Dev’s entire body turned rigid; he adjusted his angle and surged into her twice more.

  She clutched at his buttocks, her fingers and hands squeezing and pulling at him.

  The world was white, and then black, and then she shuddered. She felt a heat at her core, and she would have tightened her legs about him if she’d had any strength whatsoever.

  Dev collapsed. He was motionless but for a twitch and a pulsing inside of her.

  “You will always be mine, Sophia,” he said into her neck. “Always.”

  “Mmm…” was all she could manage.

  He chuckled and must have used the last of his strength to pull the covers up around them.

  And so, on the night of her marriage, she finally slept, safe and comfortable in the arms of the man she loved.

  Dev crept out of her chamber just before sunrise, no one the wiser, she hoped

  * * *

  The problem with having a lady’s maid, despite being attended in luxury, was that one tended to sacrifice a great deal of privacy.

  And Sophia would have appreciated some that morning, instead of awakening, completely naked, to find Penny placing a tray of some hot, steaming drink beside her bed. The maid then casually picked up her nightgown, smoothed out some wrinkles, and laid it along the foot of the bed.

  The tray left over from her and Devlin’s picnic the night before was nowhere to be seen.

  Her maid must think that she and Harold…

  Sophia grasped her gown quickly, all the while clutching the blanket in front of her, and then slipped it over her head with as much grace as she could muster.

  The maid merely glanced over her shoulder with a secret smile. “I didn’t think he had it in him!” she said. But upon realizing exactly what had just escaped her lips, and to whom the words had escaped to, she suddenly turned white as a sheet and covered her mouth with one hand.

  Sophia realized that Harold’s… husbandly abilities… had been in doubt, with a servant, this servant, anyhow, and most probably with numerous other servants about the house.

  This was exactly why the duke and duchess had been adamant about his marriage. For Harold and his… valet to do what she’d witnessed last night was not only scandalous, but dangerous. What was it considered? She’d read about it on one occasion. Oh, yes, an unnatural crime.

  Society was far less lenient in their judgment of such matters than she and Devlin apparently were.

  By having Devlin stay the night with her, creating the appearance of a night of lovemaking, well, they’d done something of a favor for the duke and duchess.

  And, she supposed, for Harold… and Stewart.

  Giggles threatened to erupt, but she could not do that to the horrified maid.

  So, she settled on a secret smile before reaching for the hot drink. She had plenty of secret thoughts to smile about: Dev telling her of his childhood, Dev unclothed, Dev on top of her, Dev inside of her…

  “I didn’t know if you preferred chocolate or tea in the morning, so I brought both.” The maid was quite obviously grateful to not have been chastised for her ill-timed comment.

  “Chocolate, this morning,” she said. “But tea usually.” Most certainly her thoughts had caused her to blush.

  “Very well, Lady Harold, my lady,” Penny said.

  Sophia bristled at her new title. She was not Harold’s anything!

  Penny continued her cheery speech. “Her grace has instructed me to ready you to leave this morning. I’ve most of your trunks packed for the footmen to take down already, an overnight valise, and clothing laid out for your journey. I’ll have a bath readied for when you are done with your chocolate?” Her last statement was something of a question.

  This new relationship between lady and lady’s maid was an intimate one. Sophia did wish to bathe, however. And then as a few muscles protested when she stood, she wondered if Dev had left any marks on her. The thought, although embarrassing, was also oddly thrilling. Their lovemaking had not consisted of feathery kisses and a quick joining in the dark.

  Harold might gain quite the reputation.

  After the hot water had been brought up, Penny led Sophia into the dressing room and assisted her with her gown. Sophia caught sight of herself in the mirror. Yes, a few bruises smudged her hips, and a red streak stood out against the pale skin of her breast.

  Feeling like a wanton, she sank into the hot water.

  She would hold fast to the sensations and imprints left by Dev’s lovemaking. They reminded her that it had been real. It had not been a dream, nor a figment of her imagination.

  As Penny poured water over her shoulders and into her hair, Sophia relived some of last night’s moments in her mind. She wanted her memories to remain vivid, just in case…

  This morning she did not feel so hopeless as she had before.

  Of course, any number of things could go wrong with their crazy plan. Harold might well come to his senses and decide that freedom was not worth risking his life. Or he might reconsider abandoning the privileged lifestyle to which he’d grown accustomed.

  With a wife now, it would be safer for him to continue his relationship with Stewart in secret, indefinitely.

  As could she with Devlin.

  But�
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  It was not the same.

  No, living in secret, living a lie, was not living at all. She and Dev had stolen a night of passion together, but he had been forced to leave before sunup.

  She would have that they awaken each morning together. That they walk in the sunlight together… have children…

  Upon which thought she bolted upright.

  She’d forgotten all about that!

  This could become complicated, indeed. No, a life filled with secrecy was not something she wished for.

  Her maid handed her a washcloth and some soap.

  “Oh, dear, my lady.” The maid turned away quickly.

  Sophia glanced down to where the maid had been looking.

  A remarkably obvious bruise in the shape of a hand stood out boldly upon her upper thigh.

  * * *

  Dev was surprised when he finally went down for breakfast the next morning to discover that the duchess’ entourage had yet to depart for Priory Point. They were all to be delayed, it seemed, by three days, as per the duchess’ orders.

  Her grace had decided the newly married couple must be given a few days of solitude and privacy together. Word was, Dev soon learned, that Harold’s little bride just might have cured him.

  This, he was informed of, by one of the duchess’ younger sisters. She’d heard it from her grace, who’d heard it from her lady’s maid, who’d heard it from Sophia’s lady’s maid, who had gleefully announced that the newlywed couple had enjoyed a night of passionate lovemaking in the bride’s chamber.

  This conclusion had been based upon evidence of various bodily fluids on the sheets, an unclothed bride in the morning, as well as various markings on the bride’s body. None of this was spoken of in so many words, which made it all the more astounding that he was able to gather so much from the middle-aged spinster.

  Good heavens!

  Again, reason to live in one’s own private lodgings.

  Lord and Lady Harold, he was informed, had embarked upon their journey a few hours ago.

  And upon hearing this news, an emptiness he could not immediately identify, filled him.

  She was no longer just a few steps away. She was not even a short drive across town. Sophia was miles away from London by now and this, yes, this fact was the source of his sudden dispiritedness.

  His aunt had ordered everyone to wait three full days before embarking upon their own journeys to Priory Point for the elaborately planned house party.

  Dev found himself at loose ends.

  For all of two minutes.

  One very important matter required his attention. When Sophia told him what had happened to her as a young girl, that Dudley Scofield had forced himself upon her, it had required all of Dev’s self-control not to seek him out that very night.

  He’d wanted to search out the bastard and place a pistol between his eyes. No, that would be too easy. Justice might best be served by inflicting an injury like that of Lord Kensington’s. Dev had scene red.

  But Sophia had been curled up beside him.

  She’d not wanted him to abandon her in favor of a violent errand. She’d wanted… him.

  In a most primitive and passionate manner.

  Which he could not allow himself to dwell upon this morning.

  Today, he would address Mr. Dudley Scofield.

  It was not difficult to obtain information on the craven lowlife, as Scofield enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and enjoyed considerable, although unfavorable notoriety. After recently paying off most of his vowels, the younger gentleman, Dev had been informed, had gone on something of a gambling spree. And just this morning he’d embarked upon a race down to Brighton. The gents involved had mentioned a possible journey over to the continent.

  Dev didn’t have enough time to be led on a merry chase right now. Harold was going to need him at Priory Point if he was still of mind to follow through with their plan. So instead, Dev would head over to Surrey, inspect his new property, and then journey alone to Priory Point. Scofield would pay for his misdeeds when he returned to England. Dev would make certain of it.

  Meanwhile, Dev would not sit around like a lovesick fool missing Sophia.

  Which was exactly what he felt like.

  She had been… a revelation.

  Behind her delightfully innocent looks lay the passion of an Italian opera singer.

  He’d thought, as far as women were concerned anyhow, that not much could surprise him.

  He’d known that he loved her, yes. He’d known that she was sweet and filled with goodness and courage — of course she was — but last night she had invoked sensations and emotions in him that had shaken him to the core.

  He’d discovered scratches on his backside that morning.

  Every time he thought of them, he could not help but smile.

  Little, sweet Sophia Babineaux, indeed!

  His groins tightened at the merest hint of reliving parts of last night in his memory.

  He’d save that for a more convenient time. It was going to be close to a week before he could see her again.

  And when he did, he felt an unspoken agreement existed between the two of them. They would wait to be together in an intimate fashion again, until all was settled with her marriage.

  He’d already possibly complicated all of this, he’d realized, by releasing his seed inside of her. For if she were to become with child, as Harold’s wife, the repercussions for paternity were damn near unthinkable.

  He’d have any child of his recognized as such.

  And so, it would be in their best interest to abstain.

  But good Lord, Sophia Babineaux was almost impossibly irresistible.

  For him, anyhow. Thank God, her husband didn’t feel likewise.

  Chapter 15

  Sophia had not considered that she would be riding the entirety of the way to Priory Point, which was just a little past Dover, in a carriage alone with her new husband.

  With her mother, perhaps, with Rhoda or Penny. In her dreams, with Devlin, but not — Lord help them both — with Harold.

  Her mother-in-law, it seemed, thought the two of them would appreciate this.

  Lord Harold did not question why his mother had made such an assumption.

  Stewart and Penny had been sent on ahead of them along with their luggage coach and would be awaiting them when they reached their scheduled stop for the night. The duchess had packed a picnic lunch with wine and delicacies and instructed the driver to locate a romantic setting where the newlywed couple could stop and take their luncheon in a leisurely fashion.

  To deny her wishes was not an option.

  Harold had alighted behind her with a sheepish look and explained these details to her as the driver maneuvered them through the crowded London streets. She wondered if he felt as forlorn without his… Stewart, as she did without Devlin. Except Stewart was just a few miles ahead of them, whereas she was leaving Devlin behind.

  Neither of them spoke much after that, content, apparently, to mull over their disappointment in silence. Harold had settled himself against a pillow along the window on his side of the coach, and she’d done the same on her side. Both of them sat front-facing. Harold, of course, had told her early on in their relationship that he became sick if he rode backwards in a carriage.

  They’d been on the road for a few hours when Sophia felt compelled to speak.

  “I imagine you miss him.” She would not pretend that she did not know. To do so, for her anyhow, would be rather like ignoring an elephant riding along in the carriage with them.

  Harold glanced over at her suspiciously, his pale blue eyes narrowing, a lock of his light brown hair falling across his eyes.

  His looks were considerably different from Dev’s. Was he going to respond to her? Was he even going to acknowledge her statement? But then he sighed.

  “So, you know,” he said.

  “It is only fair that I should know such a pertinent fact regarding my husband, would you not agree?” He would have
to speak with her now. He could not get up and leave the carriage, or dismiss her, as he’d done before.

  “Wonderful,” he said. “Now you can be disgusted of me along with everybody else. I hope you realize there is a confidentiality clause in the contract. If anything comes out publicly, your parents are liable for paying back the annuities in full, plus interest.” He spoke bitterly, as though she would become an enemy to him.

  “I’ll admit I was… surprised. But I am not disgusted with you, Harold. And of course, why would I tell anyone your secret? Would I not be considered a fool for marrying such a man? Besides…” She looked away from him. “…one cannot always decide who they will fall in love with.” She remembered her mother’s regret at falling in love with her father, a poor man. She considered the love that Cecily had said she had for Lord Kensington.

  Harold absentmindedly plucked at a piece of thread that had come loose on his waistcoat. “How is it that you are not disgusted?”

  She shrugged.

  “Dev told you, I suppose,” he added, conceding the conversation’s subject matter.

  She was not going to dissemble. “I discovered myself. Last night, I came looking for you late, hoping we could raid the kitchen together.”

  At her words, Harold moaned and covered his face with both hands. Bending forward, he practically buried his face in his lap. “Oh, God, Sophia. I would never in a thousand years have had you discover that way. I may call you Sophia, may I not?”

  “Of course, I believe I’ve already called you Harold on more than one occasion.” She reached over and touched him. “I’m not made of glass, you know.” And then rubbing his back soothingly, she continued, “He is very handsome, though, isn’t he? How long have the two of you known one another?”

  He sat up and shook his head. He then smiled self-consciously. “We met at Oxford. He’s far more intelligent than I. He could become a professor, if he wished. But then we could not be together.” Harold glanced down at his cravat. “I tied this, by the way. He’s a horrible valet.”

  Sophia laughed. An excellent irony, indeed!

  “I don’t suppose your father would have approved of you becoming Stewart’s valet.”