Scandal: Regency Lovers 6

by Mortimer, Carole

  “Gray…” She turned her cheek to rest against his shoulder as the waves of her arousal grew stronger, higher, lashing against her, demanding to be set free. “Gray!”

  “Let go, my lovely,” he encouraged against her hair. “Give me your pleasure, darling girl.” He pulled harder on her nipple as he pinched her clit between his wet fingers.

  Rachel could not resist or fight the sudden release that ripped through her, centered at her core, before extending outwards to every part of her body.

  She lay limp and unmoving in Gray’s arms for several long minutes as she regained her breath, finally rousing herself enough to realize she owed it to Gray to ensure he enjoyed the encounter as much as she did. “Gray, I—” She broke off as his hands tightly gripped about her waist and he lifted her up onto her feet before he also rose.

  “Dress yourself,” he instructed harshly. He released her to gather his own discarded shirt and waistcoat and began pulling them on. “I heard a carriage pull up outside just a minute or so ago,” he bit out as Rachel remained unmoving. “In all probability, as you have not arrived home as expected, it is someone come looking for you to ensure you have not become lost in the snow. It might even be one of your parents, but is almost certainly someone you would rather not find the two of us together in such compromising circumstances.”

  Rachel glanced down at herself.

  Her bare nipples were still red and engorged, her mound totally exposed and wet from her own juices, and she could feel the way her hair had escaped its fashionable style and several stray curls now dangled inelegantly against the bareness of her shoulders. Shoulders which were no doubt slightly red from the abrasion of the stubble on Gray’s jaw.

  “I will go and distract them.” Gray pulled on his jacket and straightened the cuffs before running a hand through his tousled hair. “It will give you time to make yourself presentable.”

  Presentable?

  Rachel almost laughed at the incongruity of Gray believing that was in the least possible within the few minutes he would be gone.

  Chapter Six

  “Do you care to share what you and Mr. Long were doing alone at the church for so long?” Clara prompted suggestively.

  Rachel, having just assisted her cousin into her pale rose gown and wine-colored velvet pelisse, should have been expecting Clara’s curiosity. “I believe he explained we were sheltering until the worst of the storm had passed.”

  “Thank goodness Ezra and I had already arranged to spend the first night of our honeymoon at Stone Manor and start off early in the morning for The Lakes.” Clara glanced out the bedchamber window to where it was possible to see the snow had now stopped falling. But at least two inches of treacherous white had covered the ground outside before the storm ceased. “And if we do not manage to get there at all”—she grinned—“we shall simply barricade ourselves inside our bedchamber at the house and remain there for the week.”

  Rachel nodded. “That sounds sensible.”

  Clara’s smile was glowing. “It sounds delicious.”

  “I am sure a respectable married lady should not be talking in this way,” she reproved primly.

  “You and I both know I shall never be completely respectable, darling Rachel.” Her cousin laughed. “And if you think for one moment I am distracted from my original question, then you are mistaken! Your mother was beside herself when you did not arrive within half an hour of setting out to walk here. She insisted that my uncle, your father, set out immediately to look for you. Imagine our surprise when he returned in the carriage with not only you but also Mr. Long.” Her brows rose questioningly.

  Rachel collected up the discarded wedding gown and draped it carefully over a chair. Next she picked up the satin slippers that went with it and carried them to the wardrobe.

  All to avoid meeting her cousin’s probing gaze.

  In the same way she had avoided meeting Gray’s gaze on the carriage ride home. Or since. In fact, Rachel had avoided him altogether after he was persuaded by her grateful parents, the two of them having decided Mr. Long had saved their daughter from freezing to death, into remaining for the rest of the wedding celebrations.

  She shrugged dismissively when she emerged from the wardrobe to find her cousin still looking at her. “I was your bridesmaid, and Mr. Long was Lord Stone’s witness today. I believe it is traditional for us to spend time together at the wedding celebrations.”

  “True.” Clara studied her reflection in the mirror as she pulled on her matching velvet bonnet. “But you were so…disheveled when you arrived back here, you lost no time in coming up to your bedchamber to change your gown.”

  Rachel had used the privacy to change her damp drawers too, and washed them out in the bowl of warm water her maid brought up to her dressing room, and afterward left them to dry over the bath. Rachel would be mortified if her maid had ever realized the dampness in the crotch of her drawers was due to Rachel’s having been recently physically aroused. Very much so.

  She gave her cousin a bland smile. “Being caught in a snowstorm is apt to do that to one’s appearance.”

  “So is the sort of fierce lovemaking I believe Mr. Long might be partial to.”

  Rachel scowled her displeasure. “Since when did you start thinking of Mr. Long in that intimate manner at all?”

  Clara gave an unconcerned grin. “Since the moment I realized my cousin, also one of my closest friends, was having similar thoughts.”

  She gave a shake of her head. “You are incorrigible. I am sure Lord Stone has absolutely no idea of the wanton he has taken as his wife.”

  Clara gave her a sideway glance. “Believe me, Ezra knows exactly what sort of wife I am going to be. I vow we shall be parents before the end of next year, or we shall both be exhausted from trying. After all, Ezra is not getting any younger, so we should not waste any more time in starting a family,” she added affectionately.

  “Ezra intends to keep his beautiful young wife barefoot and pregnant for the next ten years at least,” that gentleman drawled as he stood in the doorway of the bedchamber after the briefest of knocks. “I thought you might like to know Mr. Long is about to take his leave.” He smiled kindly at Rachel.

  She bit back the sharp reply that instantly sprang to mind. Lord Stone had always treated her with kindness. It would be rude of her to return that warmth with anything less than respect.

  “Thank you.” She curtseyed politely, gaze lowered as she walked to the door.

  Lord Stone’s hand moved to open the door wider for her to leave. “Several days ago, Long came to me and asked me to allow him to end his employment with me,” he told her gently. “I have his promise to remain here for the week Clara and I are on our honeymoon, but after that, I cannot guarantee he will remain in the area for long.”

  Rachel found it impossible to hide her alarmed response to his words. “He made this request several days ago, you say?” She knew she hadn’t done anything to cause such a severe reaction the last time they met. “Mr. Long did not seem overjoyed by the visitor to your stud when I was there with Clara earlier this week.”

  Lord Stone gave an inclination of his head. “Long has refused to discuss his reason for wishing to leave, but my enquiries into the matter revealed his request had followed a visit to Stone Manor by yourself, Clara and her mother, and also the Duke of Hawkwood, all on the same day.”

  Rachel chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds as she recalled Gray’s reaction to the other gentleman’s visit to the Stone estate. How his face had gone slightly pale when the duke spoke to him as if he knew him, and how Gray hadn’t answered the other man until after Rachel had departed to join Clara in the house.

  “So you believe Gray—Mr. Long’s,” she corrected awkwardly, “decision to leave, has something to do with the arrival of the Duke of Hawkwood?”

  Lord Stone shrugged wide shoulders. “As the duke departed the following day for his own estate, I was unable to discuss the matter with him.”

&nbs
p; “This all sounds very intriguing.” Clara crossed the room to link her arm with her husband’s. “Mr. Long is obviously more of a mystery than we had previously realized.”

  Rachel had sensed from the beginning that there was more to Gray than he cared to let people see.

  Despite his job as estate manager, and his preference for wearing sturdy work clothes, the superfine and linen he had worn today had been of excellent quality. Not only that, but Gray had worn them with an elegance of bearing.

  The forthright manner in which he had dragged a lady—her—from her horse that day, without so much as a single hesitation in doing so, even less so in spanking her bottom, were not the actions of a mere manual laborer either.

  His voice was also educated and refined, as befitting a gentleman.

  Clara was right, Gray was a mystery.

  One Rachel fully intended solving, and not running away from as she had been doing since they left the church earlier.

  “I believe you promised me a dance before you leave, Mr. Long.”

  Gray had hoped to escape this infernal wedding reception before Rachel rejoined the guests in her parents’ ballroom. But he had been delayed from doing so, time and time again, by other of the guests either wishing to congratulate him on his role in the wedding or the state of the weather that had resulted in himself and Rachel being stranded at the church. None of the remarks concerning the latter had been in the least accusatory. Possibly because none here would expect Miss Rachel Banford, daughter of Lord and Lady Banford, to so much as notice Gray was a man let alone indulge in the intimacies the two of them had shared earlier.

  And now Rachel stood behind him, taunting him with the knowledge of the promise he had made her before those intimacies took place.

  He must have been insane to have instructed Rachel to remove her gown, let alone then ordering her to straddle his thighs before proceeding to make love to her. He closed his eyes at the memory of how debauched Rachel had looked at the end of his lovemaking, naked except for her camisole bunched about her waist.

  The pupils of her eyes had been blown so that only a sliver of green remained, her cheeks flushed, her throat and shoulders showing signs of being abraded by the stubble on his chin. Her breasts—those glorious twin orbs—had been tipped by nipples that were twice as big as they had been before Gray began to play with them. As was that delicious red nubbin peeping out from amongst the curls on her mound.

  Luckily, Rachel had managed to address her lack of clothing by the time Gray returned to the cell with her father. Spotting some of the buttons were still unfastened at the back of her gown, Gray had quickly draped his jacket about her shoulders, to hide both those unfastened buttons and the visible abrasions on her ivory-white shoulders.

  He drew in a deep breath now before turning slowly to face her. She no longer wore the bridesmaid’s dress of earlier but had changed into a high-necked and long-sleeved gown of deep green velvet that was more in keeping with the cold and the season. It also served to completely hide those marks on her throat and shoulders from curious eyes.

  She raised one slender eyebrow. “Mr. Long?”

  He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I believe I did say that, yes.”

  Rachel inclined her head toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”

  Gray wanted to refuse, to avoid such physical closeness between them after making love to her earlier. But that would not only be hurtful but churlish. “Of course.” He held out his arm in invitation.

  Rachel breathed a sigh of relief the moment her fingers rested upon Gray’s muscular forearm, the disquiet that had been churning inside her since they parted earlier instantly calming to an inner warmth.

  They danced together in silence, coming together and then parting again for several minutes, as the dance required they do, before Rachel spoke again. “I trust my father did not quiz you too deeply regarding our time spent alone together in the church earlier?”

  A scowl darkened Gray’s brow. “I owe you an apology—”

  “If it is in regard to our lovemaking earlier, then please refrain from insulting me by doing so. If anyone should apologize, it is me,” she continued when Gray looked at her enquiringly. “I recall from the duchess’s lessons on the subject that it is not only selfish to leave a man’s passion and cock unsated when he has already given you pleasure, but it could also be dangerous to his temper.” She glanced up at him from beneath long lashes.

  Gray appeared to be fighting the urge to smile at her forwardness and frowning his disapproval both at the same time. In the end, he did a combination of both. “Someone really needs to talk to the duchess regarding the lessons taught at her school.”

  Rachel’s lips quirked knowingly. “Are you saying she is wrong on this subject?”

  He sighed. “Suffering with painful balls can be…uncomfortable.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the description. “To you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes,” he grated.

  Rachel’s smile widened at the way Gray’s gaze moved about the room, as if he feared someone might overhear their conversation. “As I thought. When would you like the two of us to meet again so that I might…return the pleasure you gave me today? Specifically by my stroking, pumping, and sucking your cock until you release, as my lessons have taught me to do, either with my hand or my mouth.”

  He spluttered. “Rachel—Miss Banford—”

  “Please do not attempt to use formality to hold me at arm’s length,” she bit out her impatience with the notion. “In these circumstances, I find it extremely ridiculous, if not downright ludicrous.”

  Gray closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. No, this was not a dream or even a nightmare, because he really was dancing with Rachel Banford in the middle of her parents’ ballroom, and having a conversation regarding the two of them meeting so that Rachel might suck and pump his cock to the completion her father’s arrival at the church earlier had ensured Gray did not attain.

  How did one—he—refuse such a proposal without completely insulting the lady?

  Especially when a refusal was the last thing Gray wished to make.

  He had only to look at Rachel’s slightly parted lips to imagine them stretched about the girth of his cock, as he thrust the length of that throbbing member into the heat of her mouth and down her slender throat, for his cock to completely engorge and lengthen inside his pantaloons. It had been semi-hard for the whole of the time he and Rachel were dancing together, but now it was as hard as steel and aching like the very devil.

  He drew in a determined breath, fully intending to make that refusal whether he wished to or not, when the music’s tempo suddenly changed and he found himself with Rachel in his arms rather than at his side. One of her gloved hands was upon his shoulder, the other firmly grasping his hand, his free arm about her waist as they joined the other couples in waltzing about the crowded dance floor.

  Gray frowned his consternation. “They do not usually play a waltz until the end of the evening.”

  Rachel gave him a dismissive glance. “I believe the bride and groom may request whatever dance they wish whenever they wish it at their own wedding reception.”

  He glanced across the room to where the bride and groom currently stood beside the dance floor rather than on it. The two of them had their heads together in conversation, but their gazes, mischievous on the bride’s part and mocking on the groom’s, were firmly fixed on Gray and Rachel. Telling him that the waltz now playing had been engineered by the two of them. For what purpose, Gray had no idea.

  Rachel laughed at what Gray could only assume was his disgruntled expression. “Admit defeat, Gray, and agree to meet me tomorrow in the hayloft.” She stared off into the distance. “I have always fantasized about making love on a bed of hay.”

  Gray scowled. “It is far too cold to be bitten by fleas and whatever other insects have taken up residence in the hay’s warmth!”

  She refocused thos
e beautiful green eyes on him. “If the thought of that bothers you, then we should change the venue to your cottage. Say at three thirty? The lady who cooks and cleans for you leaves at three o’clock, I believe. I will instruct the coachman to take the back lanes so that no one sees me arrive or leave,” she added huskily.

  The throb of Gray’s cock grew more insistent. “And exactly what excuse could you possibly give your parents for being out and about and alone at such a time?” It should, but somehow did not, surprise him in the least that Rachel knew at what time of day the woman left who came in daily to clean his cottage and leave him a hot meal for his dinner. Usually either a stew inside the range’s oven or something he might warm through himself once he came home in the evening from working on the estate.

  Rachel’s smile could only be called triumphant. “My parents and Aunt and Uncle Catchpole are to visit the tenants on the estate tomorrow afternoon between three and five thirty, delivering gifts and food for the Christmas season. My mother has long eschewed the delivery of these things the day after Christmas, on the basis that the gifts and food are of more use to them if they are enjoyed on Christmas Day.”

  Gray nodded. It was a reasonable conclusion for Lady Banford to have made, and perhaps one others in society should also make. “You are not expected to accompany them?”

  Her smile widened. “I shall be suffering the symptoms of a chill from being out in the snow today.”

  “Rachel—”

  “Gray?” Her gaze held his in steady challenge.

  He drew in a long and controlling breath. “I have never met a woman even remotely like you before.”

  “Forward and stubborn?” she teased.

  “Brave and determined,” he corrected.

  Her expression brightened. “So, you will set the scene at your cottage tomorrow for when I arrive by lighting the fire in your sitting room and pulling the curtains? Perhaps even have a decanter of wine available.”