by Sahara Kelly
“We could ask Reverend Pitcher. You remember him, Dev? Timothy Pitcher? I think you shared a tutor with him one summer.”
“Tim Pitcher? Er, yes. I think I tried to drown him in the ocean a time or two.”
“Most likely. You were an awful brat.” Agatha smiled fondly at him. “Glad you grew out of it.”
“That would be perfect, Miss Agatha.” Hannah smiled widely. “If he could call the banns this Sunday, might we be wed next week?”
“They’re supposed to be called three times, Hannah.” Charles frowned. “I do not want to take one single chance that your father might find a loophole in our marriage. Not one.”
She sobered. “Well, all right. Yes. I agree. But oh, Charles…” It was a plaintive sigh.
Dev grinned. “Damn it, Hannah. I wouldn’t be able to resist that plea. Not sure how Charles can either.”
Charles emitted a sound that could well be described as a growl.
“All right, children. Let’s think on this. What we need, of course, is a special marriage license. And I believe that has to come from a bishop. Anyone know a bishop?” Agatha looked at them hopefully.
There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the popping of the fire and the soft hiss of rain against the windows. Charles’s thoughts wandered to the fact that the most important events of his life thus far had taken place in the most miserable weather he could possibly imagine.
Then Dev snapped his fingers, making them all jump.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yes, we all know that.” Charles couldn’t help himself.
“Hush.” Hannah glared at him. “Go on, Dev. What?”
“Isn’t Timothy Pitcher’s father a bishop?”
“Good God. I believe you’re right. How could I have forgotten?” Agatha blinked in surprise.
“Probably because he’s the most terrible bore and we spent a lot of time trying to avoid him as much as possible. He used to have a house in Lymington, I think…”
“You didn’t toss him into the ocean as well, did you?” Charles lifted an eyebrow.
“Can’t remember, but I doubt it. He carried quite a bit of weight…and I’m not talking ecclesiastically. The man liked his dinner.”
“It would be perfect if he’s amenable to granting us a license, wouldn’t it?” Hannah’s face lit up.
Charles couldn’t refuse that flare of joy. “We’ll find out, love.” He turned to their hostess. “Agatha, if you could possibly spare a groom—“
She was already reaching for the bell. “No need to ask, dear boy. We’ll know by the morrow. And I’ll make sure I write him a note, personally.” Her smile was one of perfect innocence.
Charles couldn’t begin to imagine what she plotted. He’d realized as soon as he met her that she possessed a healthy portion of the Delaney spirit of mischief. However, if anyone could extract a special license from a bishop, his money was on Agatha.
Hannah beamed the rest of the way through the afternoon, and when he heard a slight tap on his door long after everyone had retired for the night, he had a damn good idea who it was.
“You should not be here, Hannah. For heaven’s sake, it’s after midnight.”
“Oh don’t be an old fuddy duddy.” Hannah strolled past him into the room. “We spent a long time talking to each other under the same quilt barely hours after we met. So don’t prose.”
Charles sighed. “You’re a handful. I can see my future is going to be spent attempting to keep you in order.”
She turned worried eyes to him as he closed the door. “Charles, are you sure this is what you want? To marry me? You said when we first met that if I truly didn’t wish for this marriage you’d find some way to render that damned will void. I need to make sure you know that applies to you as well.” She turned away and walked across the room to his bed, sitting on it and wrapping her shawl around her. “Neither of us should be trapped because of some ancient bequest.”
Charles walked to the bed and stood in front of her, reaching to take her hands in his. “The first time I saw you, I think I knew you were destined to be my wife. There was no question in my mind that if I had to marry, it would be you. And since then—well, there are no questions in my mind whatsoever.” He drew her to her feet and took her in his arms. “You’re stuck with me, Hannah. So I hope you’re not going to object at this point, because it’s far too late.”
And with that, he kissed her.
Chapter Fourteen
At the gentle touch of his lips, Hannah melted, her knees buckling as she sagged against him.
He murmured and held her more tightly, increasing the pressure of his mouth on hers until she opened it and welcomed his invading tongue. His taste, the slick heat teasing and tempting her to respond in kind—it was arousing, sending darts of pleasure all the way to her toes.
They were curling in her slippers. She could feel them curling. The power he wielded with just a touch stunned her, even as she returned his kiss with every bit as much enthusiasm.
She began to fully understand the joy of merging so many parts of herself with so many of his. A kiss was so much more than just a simple pressing of the lips. Now she was comfortable enough to let her arms drift around his waist, inside his robe, and embrace his warmth.
She pressed her body to his, even as their tongues dueled softly. The sensation of his muscles, his heat, abrading her tender breasts and crushing them as he tightened his hold on her…well, it was beyond wonderful.
She sighed a little, making a sound in her throat as she rose on tiptoe and deliberately let her nipples rub his chest. It made her shudder with the unexpected jolts of pleasure and she knew now that it would correspond with a growing dampness between her thighs.
“Charles,” she whispered his name, moving back from his mouth and running her hands up and down his back. “Charles, love me.”
“I do, sweetheart.” He cupped her face. “I realized that when I lost you. And it became even clearer when I found you.”
She smiled, her heart thundering, her pulse pounding at the wonder of his blue Viking eyes. “I’m so glad. But I want you to really love me. Make me yours. Lie with me and show me what it means to be a wife. Because I will be your wife. No one will stop that from happening.” She grabbed his waist. “I mean it. I am yours and you are mine.”
His smile became a quiet laugh and like lightning he swooped an arm behind her knees and tossed her onto his bed.
Following her, he lay beside her and kissed her again, fiercely this time, hungrily, devouring her lips and sucking at her tongue as his hands roved over her body.
She struggled free of her shawl and robe and let Charles touch her wherever he wished. He found her breasts and teased the tight buds until she moaned with pleasure, then let his fingers walk down to her thighs. He tugged at her nightgown and found bare skin, which he stroked gently until she was writhing with a sensual urgency.
She murmured his name, sighing it, then clutching at his arms, trying to reach his skin, as he touched hers.
“Sssh.” He drifted soft kisses over her neck. “This night is for you.”
His deft fingers tugged the ribbons of her nightgown and pushed it off her shoulders, baring even more skin to be kissed and licked and nibbled.
Her legs moved, her body twisted and it was so hard for her to let him drive her insane with his caresses while all she could do was tug on his robe in return.
“Let me touch you, Charles, please…” She all but sobbed as her arousal threatened to choke her.
“Not tonight, love. Just relax. As I said, tonight is for you.”
“Relax?” She grabbed his ears and shook his head. “Relax? You’re making me so frantic I think I’m about to explode, damn you.”
Charles rose up on one elbow and grinned at her, even as she held tight to him. “I can’t hear you. Something’s got me by the ears.”
“Aaaaargh.” She choked back her scream of frustration and let him go, only to see his grin tu
rn into a chuckle and then a laugh as he collapsed half on her.
She couldn’t help it—she laughed too.
They rolled together, laughing, tangled limbs and the occasional touch of flesh against flesh.
The weight of him pressing her into the soft bed thrilled her, the feel of his hard body as they tussled and twisted was exquisite torture. Then…the sudden sensation of his hand against her body—between her legs.
She stilled, a laugh fading into a sigh of ecstasy. “Charles.”
“Close your eyes, Hannah. Just feel, all right? Let everything else go. Just feel…”
She did. Her eyelids drifted shut and she took a deep breath as his hand began to move, stroking her at first with the delicacy of a man touching a rose petal.
He made her feel precious, special—like this moment meant as much to him as it did to her.
His touch changed, becoming more intense, pressing on places of exquisite sensitivity, then drifting away to spread her silky liquid over her heated folds of flesh.
She was amazed at how he drew every tiny mote of passion to the surface, turning her into a furnace of need. Her legs parted for him, and her hips thrust upward, seeking his caresses.
She knew now that there was so much more to this experience, but since her feelings threatened to blind her, she wasn’t sure if she would survive their ultimate joining.
He daringly slipped a finger inside and she gasped at the intrusion. It was strange—not uncomfortable—but strange.
Then he began to rub one particular spot with his thumb—and she lost all capacity for any kind of rational thought. She could only clutch at the linens, whimper and push herself into his hand.
And let go…
*~~*~~*
Charles knew the minute he kissed her that he had made a big mistake. She was so much of everything he wanted—but could not and would not have until his ring was on her finger.
He owed her that. She’d known little of true affection up to now, nor had she had anyone put her first in their lives. He was determined to be the man who showed her what it was like to be truly loved. To be cherished and cared for and put above everyone else.
He’d scoffed in the past at his cronies who had succumbed to the married state, only to become puppet husbands.
Now he had a much greater understanding of what it was like to find oneself yearning for a woman and envisioning a life spent with her at his side. Would he be a puppet? Not if he could help it. But would he always put her needs before his own? If it were possible, absolutely.
And tonight, her needs would take precedence.
No matter that his cock was hard enough to replace the fireplace poker, and he was in gut-wrenching distress as his balls tightened as well.
Her scent, her feel, the tiny sounds of pleasure she made every time he touched her…it was lighting a fire in his groin that might easily consume him.
He wanted in. In to her body, in to that slick velvet that he could only caress with a fingertip. He wanted his cock smothered with her hot liquids, the honey that dampened his hand as he rubbed the soft folds of flesh.
And above all, as she climaxed around his finger, he wanted inside at that moment so that he could fill her with his seed.
He kissed her whimpers away and breathed in her moans as he held his hand tightly to her body and stayed with her as she rode her release to its conclusion.
Then, as she relaxed and her tension eased, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.
“Oh Charles,” she muttered, turning into his shoulder. “Oh Charles.”
He grinned.
“You just wait until it’s my turn.”
The grin fell away. “What?”
It was her turn to grin. “You do know I spent a couple of days in a brothel, right? What do you think I did there, knit?”
“No, but…you didn’t…you weren’t…” Apparently the power of speech had deserted him. Or his balls were now up in his throat. Either was a possibility at this point.
“Of course not.” She settled herself and stroked his chest. “But I did take the opportunity to—um—increase my education.” She looked up at him and smiled, all innocence and sweet maidenhood. “I do believe one should seize every chance one can to learn new things, don’t you, dear?”
Charles nodded, still speechless.
“Well, once we’re wed, I look forward to sharing some of that knowledge with you. I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.”
Finally he was able to clear his throat. “I’m sure I will,” he croaked.
“Perhaps that will inspire you to ensure we wed soon…” Her fingers danced over his nipple, making him break out in a sweat.
He grabbed her hand and nipped at her fingertips. “Don’t tease me. It’s unfair.”
She sighed. “You’re right, of course. And I do apologize. But I want to be your wife, Charles.” She paused. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I realized something. I ran away from that very thing and now I can’t wait. Isn’t that absurd? I must appear to be a complete ninny.”
“Just a partial ninny, dear. Don’t fret.”
Hannah snorted and punched him in the arm. “Cabbage head.”
“Really?” He chuckled.
“It’s the best I can do. My vocabulary is low on juicy curse words that would be more appropriate. Will you teach me a few please? Just in case, as Lady Penvale, I need to reprimand someone.”
The idea of Hannah looking down her nose and using an epithet on a recalcitrant servant made him laugh. “We’ll see, imp.” He dropped a quick kiss on her nose. “But for now, you need to go back to your own room.”
She pouted. “But Charles…”
“No buts, sweetheart. Agatha is a delightful hostess with a liberal mind, but even she is not immune to country gossip. And the servants are all from the country. So it’s back to bed with you. Your own bed.”
She sighed and nodded. “You’re right, of course.” A quick wriggle and she was on her feet and refastening her robe. “But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Neither do I.” He took her hand and led her to the door. “Soon, love. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” She glanced out into the corridor. “It’s clear. No need to come with me. If I meet anyone it’s best I’m alone.” She turned and gave him another quick embrace. “Good night. Sleep well.”
He watched as she tiptoed along the darkened passage way and then reached her room. She glanced back, waved and disappeared inside.
He closed his door and blew out a breath.
Sleep well? She had to be jesting. There wasn’t a chance of that, not until he’d taken a certain matter into his own hands.
May the bishop be an amenable sort of chap, he prayed. Otherwise I’m not going to get much rest for the foreseeable future…
Chapter Fifteen
Fortunately for Charles’s peace of mind, it transpired the next day that Bishop Pitcher was indeed happy to provide a license for his dear friend Agatha’s guests.
At least that’s what his note said, according to Agatha, who read the contents just after midday.
Charles had his doubts, but at this point, since Hannah was all but dancing around the luncheon table, he wasn’t about to voice them. He merely perused the other pieces of paper included with the note. There was a document stating that each party was of age and independently able to make this decision without legal impediment.
Charles scrawled his signature and passed the quill to Hannah who flashed him a happy smile and signed her name in the assigned spot.
Another document was for the witnesses—signed by Dev and Cousin Agatha, with alacrity.
The third was for the Vicar and authorized him to perform the marriage ceremony. It would serve as a marriage record and verify the legality of their nuptials.
“So when, Charles? Cousin Agatha?” Hannah asked, almost breathless with excitement. “How long do we have to wait?”
Agatha smiled.
“Very soon, child. We’ll have these documents returned to the Bishop today, and if all goes well, we should have the license in hand tomorrow. So…perhaps Saturday?”
“Oh.” Hannah clasped her hands in front of her. “That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Charles?” She shot him a quick glance.
“I think it’s perfect.” He grinned back. “You will be Lady Penvale on Sunday. Perhaps we should get you a silly hat for church?”
Hannah blushed. “Stop.”
“Oh my goodness, of course. A dress.” Agatha jumped up from the table. “Come along, Hannah. You and I are going to rummage in my wardrobe. And perhaps the storage cupboards. You, dear child, need a wedding gown.”
Charles and Dev exchanged looks that spoke volumes.
However, it was inevitable. Neither lady was seen again until just before dinner that evening.
Their absence did give the men chance to stretch their legs, and they both gladly donned sturdy boots and cloaks and ventured out into the soggy sunshine.
“You sure about this, old lad?” Dev took a deep breath of the brisk air. “Marriage is a big step.”
“I’m sure.” Charles’s response was firm and immediate.
“Good. Just thought I’d better check. It’s all happening rather fast, y’know.”
Charles nodded and struck out toward the edge of the gardens. “Yes it is. But the whole Penvale thing fell on me like a bolt out of the blue. I suppose it’s only right that acquiring a Lady Penvale should happen pretty much the same way.”
Dev grinned. “I agree. You two are…right together.”
“Unlike Amelia and me.” Charles brought up her name, knowing it was in the back of his friend’s mind.
He was right.
“Yes, unlike that situation. You were not yourself around her. She had you in her coils like the snake she is. She controlled your every thought. I will admit, Charles, you weren’t fun to be around when you were with Amelia.” Dev looked straight ahead.
Charles sighed. “I realize that now. Honestly? I can’t say I was happy at all. I was just obsessed with her. I felt as if I needed her to survive. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Dev. But it was also the most sensible. After meeting Hannah, I barely even thought of Amelia. And when I did it was with a certain amount of disgust. The two women are so unalike…”