Her mother hadn't spoken of intimacies such as this, but the sailors on board her father's ships had. Especially on that final voyage when she had begun developing breasts and her mother worried endlessly about the way the men leered at her and made crude comments. In the dark of night, the men had stood outside of her cabin window, telling stories about the women they had fucked over the years and they ways that they had done so. Even then, Abigail knew she had been meant to hear those stories and wonder. And she had. But she had never imagined doing anything so wicked as they had described.
Now, however, she knew very well why the men had enjoyed themselves so much. For it did feel ever so wonderful. And extremely wanton.
"Adam!" Abigail moaned his name and dug her fingers into his shoulders as he hit a particularly sensitive spot! "Please!"
She could swear that she felt him grin. "Please what, my love?"
If only she could articulate what she needed! The problem was that Abigail didn't know the right words. She was still too new at this. Quick fucks in the garden were one thing, but this? This was...more. It was more than even the first night they had come together. For now she knew how explosive the passion between them could be, and she yearned to see if those were boundaries that could be pushed. And crossed.
"I don't know!" she cried out, arching up, disappointed when she could not brush her swollen, aching nipples over his rough and delightful chest. "I just need more."
"Ah, my love." Adam took pity on Abigail and slid himself up the length of her body. "How wanton you are and how very lucky I am that you are mine." Then he reached down and stroked her between her legs once more.
Abigail felt this particular touch everywhere and instantly her release, which had been building inside of her since Adam had stripped down to his skin, washed over her in a massive wave. She screamed his name again and thrust her hips against his, her body shaking from the force of her release.
At that, Adam was there, sliding his hard cock deep into her slick channel. When her legs came around his waist, he began to thrust hard, claiming her for his own. He kissed her over and over, unable to get enough of her. This, he knew in his heart, was love. This seemingly insatiable need to give her pleasure, to make certain that she was happy before he found his own release. Her needs before his. Her before him in all things. This was love. And suddenly, he felt freer than he had ever dreamed possible.
This time when Adam pushed Abigail to the edge of her release, he was ready to fly over that precipice with her. He leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, suckling hard. All the while, he continued to thrust. And when he felt her feminine sheath finally begin to tighten around him, he reached down to stroke her intimately.
She flew apart in his arms, her body bucking hard beneath his as he released his seed into her, increasing the chances that if she was not carrying his child already then she would be soon. He wanted that. He wanted to start a family with this woman. The woman he loved.
Finally sated, Abigail allowed Adam to press her body back into the soft bed. He had released inside of her again, and once more, she did not care. The idea of growing round with Adam's child excited her in a way she hadn't thought possible. A baby would be a symbol of their love. She wanted that. She wanted him. Forever and always, just as he had said.
"I love you, Adam," she whispered as she leaned up to kiss him gently as he rolled away from her. She knew he didn't want to hurt her with the heavy weight of his body.
"And I love you, Abby," he replied, which was followed by a rather large yawn. "But sleep now. There will be more time for promises of love in the morning."
Abigail would have rather had him inside of her again, but she was tired. And so, for the first time in her life, she curled up beside a man and truly fell asleep. The man she loved. It was as heavenly and as perfect as she had dreamed it would be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Town Tattler
Kidnapping! Press gangs! Vile men roaming the countryside! And a daring rescue carried out by a former leading rogue of London!
Such scandal to include in my final column of the season, dear readers. In fact, had I not been there to witness the entire thing myself, I scarcely would have believed it. But happen it did and in such dramatic fashion! Though I am happy to report that as of this morning, Miss Abigail Northrup - who is also likely soon to be the new Duchess of Hathaway - is safely ensconced back at Fairhaven and preparing for this evening's rescheduled grand masquerade ball. After all, they could hardly have continued with the revelry after such a horrible incident, now could they? Thankfully Lady Lucy Enwright is a duchess with as much sense as she has grace and was intelligent enough to bring an end to the ball when it became evident that foul things were afoot.
As for our own Comte De La Croix, I am given to understand that he is already on his way to America as I write this. It is my feverent hope that he can change his life for the better and return to us a different man, his reparations for his crimes against Miss Northrup paid in full. His is a sad tale and, for as much as he is the villain in this tale, he is also the victim in another that stretches back farther than most of us can remember.
I will confess that until last night, I had not heard of this Mr. Burleigh and I can say that I am thankful for it. Also, if I never hear from him again it will be too soon. Though I am assured that Bow Street is holding the man on several counts, including fraud against the Henry & Sons shipping company. Which, of course, is all linked back to Miss Northrup.
Such a lovely woman to be involved in such a wretched scandal. But that is the way of things in this odd, new world we live in, is it not, dear readers? A world where the long-held proprieties are not respected and all manner of ill-breeding is allowed to flourish. As I have said before, this may be my final regular Season column as your faithful correspondent regarding all things relating to the Upper Ten Thousand. I have yet to decide if I shall return, but only time will tell.
Until then, my dear readers, have an ever so delightful summer and, at the very least, I shall see you all at least once during the Little Season.
-Madame C
Abigail's hands shook slightly as she stood at the top of the stairs, a small domino mask in her hand. She couldn't bring herself to put on the elaborate mask from the night before. It seemed wrong somehow, especially after the glorious amethyst gown had been ruined during her kidnapping. The mask also held bad memories for her. Although she was no longer fearful of the Comte or of Burleigh, she had decided that she would feel better if people could recognize her. Behind the other mask? She could have been anyone and that made her decidedly uneasy.
Thankfully, Lucy understood and just that morning had requested that all of the guests use small domino masks for the rescheduled ball. Other than Lady Josephine, whose gaudy diamond encrusted mask had been tittered at behind fans the night before, all of the guests were more than happy to oblige.
Abigail's kidnapping from Fairhaven by one of their own had shocked - and in some cases terrified - many of the guests. That a man they had invited into their homes could have done such a thing was horrifying to them and the guests were more than willing to do whatever was necessary to calm fears. Especially Abigail's fears, as she was enjoying a new popularity among the party guests. Suddenly, she was not just a merchant's daughter, but one of them. Though that might also have had a little something to do with Adam's thinly veiled hints that morning that the two of them were all but officially betrothed.
Actually, he still hadn't asked her to marry him yet, but Abigail was now certain that he would. He simply needed to work himself up to it. That was Adam's way and likely always would be. It was also one of the many things she loved about him.
"Are you ready, Abby?" Charlotte appeared beside her, decked out in another gorgeous Madame LaVallier creation, this one a gold and cream concoction that made her friend look like an angel. She also wore a small golden domino that enhanced rather than detracted from her appearance.
Abigail's
own gown was a stunning topaz Madame LaVallier creation, with heavy beading on the bodice and crystals stitched along the hem so that she appeared to shimmer when she walked. Her mask was gold as well but topped by a single black feather with golden tips. She had thought the gown extravagant when Elsie had insisted on packing it for the house party. Now, however, she was extremely glad her maid had been so thoughtful.
"I am. I think." Abigail's gloved hand gripped the ornately carved newel post for a moment before she forced herself to release it. She was not worried about another kidnapping. She was however, worried about seeing Adam.
They hadn't spoken much since the night before, only a few words in passing, as he had been behind closed doors with Enwright, Blackmore, and several other men throughout the day. He hadn't even emerged when Sophia had challenged Abigail to a rematch in battledore - which Abigail had handily won, mostly because it was clear that Sophia was distracted to a fault.
Charlotte patted her friend on the hand. "All will be well, Abby. You will see." Then she winked in a rather conspiratorial fashion. "I have it on good authority that tonight will be nothing short of magical for you."
That gave Abigail pause, for Lord Underhill had also been in the meetings with Adam and the others. Had he spoken to Charlotte and given her some hint about what was to come that night?
There was little time to ponder the matter however, for another group of ladies came down the hallway and Abigail was swept down the stairs with them. Tonight's entrance into the ball was far less formal than the previous evening's had been and the gaggle of women quickly pressed on down the hallway and into the ballroom. Abigail would not have been able to escape even if she had wanted to, for Charlotte, along with Lady Adelaide, had linked arms with her, pulling her along with the tide of women.
Once inside the ballroom, the group fanned out and Lord Underhill came to claim Charlotte almost as soon as they entered. Some man that Abigail didn't recognize beckoned to Lady Adelaide. The other woman seemed to notice the gentleman however, for she waggled her fingers happily at the man and crossed the room to join him, leaving Abigail alone in the crowd.
She was not alone for long, however. Before she could even turn to look for one of her friends, Lord Hunt was before her, bowing low and asking her to dance. She could not refuse, especially as she truly liked the man. She hoped that some day he might find a woman who could overlook his destitute state and see the good man beneath. For he truly was a wonderful man. He was simply not for her.
When their dance concluded, Lord Blackmore appeared before her and took Hunt's place. In fact, for the better part of an hour, Abigail was not without partners. One gentleman after another asked for her hand in a dance before the previous one had scarcely ended. She even danced with some men, like Lord Strathaven, that she did not even know, but who were extremely determined to lead her onto the floor for at least one dance.
She also caught glimpses of her friends, including Charlotte who was in Lord Underhill's arms and looking for all the world like a woman in love. She didn't see Lady Josephine or Lady Sophia, though that was not surprising. Josephine was still pouting over the issue of her mask and Sophia had provoked another spat with Adam just as the light, cold supper that preceded the ball had been served.
Sophia had been in tears, begging Adam to reconsider his position on Lord Selby, but her brother had held firm, this time backed by several Society men including Lord Blackmore and Lord Enwright. Both men were rather fearsome looking, especially Blackmore with his scarred visage. The confrontation had ended in more tears and threats, and Abigail knew that Adam was growing weary of his sister's hysterics over the issue. Not even Sophia and Adam's mother could reason with the girl.
Abigail knew from her own experience - and the experience of at least one of her friends back in Plymouth - that if Sophia's tactics did not change soon, an arranged marriage would likely be her fate. Though with whom, Abigail could not imagine. The young woman was out of control and becoming worse.
Sophia had even dared to challenge Blackmore when he had offered to escort her to the ball that night. It had been a gallant offer, especially for a man who had nothing in the disagreement and was instead attempting to be a gentleman and smooth over a bad situation.
Instead, Sophia had insulted the man, reminding him that he was a military man who worked for Bow Street and was not in line to inherit, unlike Selby who had two titles awaiting him when the time came. In fact, she had all but thrown back in Blackmore's face, that in her opinion anyway, he was hardly even a true gentleman, despite his noble birth.
To his credit, Blackmore had paled a bit, his scar growing an angry red, but he had somehow managed to retain his cheerful demeanor and instead offered to find a young man that Sophia approved of to be her escort if he would not do. Sophia had sniffed and turned on her heel, all but giving Blackmore the cut direct. It had not seemed to bother him, however, as at the moment, he was near Wallflower Row laughing and joking with several lords and ladies as if he hadn't a care in the word.
In fact, the ballroom was positively overflowing with men - and ladies - having a delightful evening.
Yet the one man that Abigail wished to see, she did not. And when a limping Lord Buxton finally allowed her to take a break and led her to the refreshment table, she was beginning to think that Adam had changed his mind after all. Despite everything that had transpired between them the night before, she wondered if he had changed his mind and decided that he did not wish to wed her after all. For if he did want to marry her, why was he not here?
Accepting a glass of lemonade from Buxton, Abigail nodded in thanks and was about to make a comment on his dancing - which was truly horrid due to his limp, though she would never say such a thing to him directly - when the man was gone and there before her was Adam. And he was smiling in a way she had never seen him do before.
"Your grace," she squeaked as he plucked the glass from her hand.
"Adam," he corrected her as he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor where a waltz was just beginning.
"But we are in public," she hissed.
Gently, he took her hand in his and moved her into the proper position. His hand at her waist all but burned her through the thin fabric of her dress. "I find that I do not care. Especially from the woman who is to be my wife."
Abigail felt her stomach fall to her feet - in the proverbial sense, of course. Out of all of the places she could have imagined him proposing, the middle of the grand masked ball was not one of them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. "Dance, Abby. For now, do no more than that. Clear your mind and simply follow my lead."
That, of course, was easier said than done, but Abigail did her best. As the music swelled around them, she allowed Adam to move her through the steps of the dance, their bodies all but swaying against each other when he pulled her far closer than was proper. It was no wonder the old tabbies thought this dance so scandalous! It put all sorts of wonderfully wicked ideas into a lady's head. Then Adam pulled her into a dizzying turn and she forgot about everything but the music and the powerful man holding her.
They twirled about the floor, making the edges of her vision blur, the flickering candles little more than streaks of light at the edge of her vision. The other dancers and guests became little more than swirls of color on the sides of the room, all of them fading into the distance until there was only Adam.
This was love, she knew. This feeling of completeness and rightness that washed over her in gentle waves. Yes, it was the passion of the night before, more like a stormy ocean tossed by fierce waves. But it was also the calmness of a safe harbor as well. It was finding a place to belong, someone to give her heart to. That someone was Adam. And a fortnight ago, she would have never thought it possible.
"Come with me, Abby," he whispered in her ear as he guided her closer to the edges of the ballroom. If anyone noticed or commented on their discreet departure, she didn't notice. Or care. All she
saw was the man she loved, and she would follow him anywhere he asked.
Not unsurprisingly, he led her out onto the terrace which was illuminated by hundreds of lanterns. In the distance, she could hear the night insects singing their merry tune and the air was heavy with the scent of the jasmine that grew just about everywhere along the back lawn of Fairhaven. In the distance, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled with another impending storm, just as it had last night, and, unable to help herself, Abigail shivered.
"Easy, love. I have you." Adam snatched up a lantern from the ones scattered about the steps and took Abigail's hand with his other. "I shan't let anyone or anything hurt you ever again."
When he tugged at her hand, urging her to follow him across the lawn, Abigail went, feeling utterly safe in his presence. Though the myriad of lanterns on wrought iron poles that lined nearly every inch of the back lawn and gardens also helped quite a lot.
Finally, Adam led Abigail to the same garden bench where she had been seated that morning when they had first met. Her heart tripped in her chest and she knew. This was the moment she had been anticipating. He was bringing her back to where it all began for them and she fell even more in love with him than she had been mere moments before. After she was seated on the bench, Adam settled in beside her before taking her hand.
"Back to where we started," she joked, suddenly nervous.
"It seemed appropriate." He glanced around. "Though I do not think there are any hedgehogs about this evening. I can find one if you like, however."
Abigail shook her head. "No, I do not think it necessary." She bit her lip. "Adam, I..."
The Kiss of a Rogue Page 28