02 - Borrowed Dreams

by May McGoldrick

  “There are children here?” Lyon asked in astonishment.

  “Aye, m’lord. Black and white and running about everywhere. They’re mostly the children of those working on the farms, but a few belong to the Hall.”

  “Why don’t they go to school in the village? What is it…Knebworth?”

  “From what I hear, they started teaching the wee ones here back in the days of that cur Wentworth. Reverend Trimble and the schoolmaster, a Scot named Cunningham, rode out to hold classes. Her ladyship wanted to continue with reading and writing and the basics of arithmetic. Some of these folks are far past school age, but this is the first opportunity that they’ve had, m’lord. Most of the younger ones go into Knebworth village for their schooling, but they all still look forward to this gathering at the Hall.”

  “Take me there.” At Gibbs’s surprised expression, Lyon gestured impatiently at the steward. “After we are done with these letters, I want you to arrange it so that I am taken to wherever my wife happens to be. Starting today, I wish to keep Millicent’s company in her daily endeavors.”

  *****

  Millicent was leaning over the shoulder of one of the women and guiding her hand on the slate when she heard the scrape of benches and surprised murmurs. When she looked up, everyone was on their feet and staring at the door. Straightening, she was shocked to see the valets carefully setting Lord Aytoun down just inside the door of the servants’ hall.

  “M’lord,” she greeted him, startled by his appearance. She started around the table toward him.

  “Disregard my presence here,” he said to the group, motioning with his good hand. “Sit and continue.”

  Stunned, no one moved. Millicent found both valets were avoiding her eyes and instead staring at the floor.

  “What are you doing here, m’lord?” she whispered when she reached his side.

  “I’ve come to see you.”

  “You might have sent someone for me. If you could give me a moment, I can dismiss these people and—”

  “No.” He took hold of her wrist before she could step away. “I should prefer to watch you teach. I have missed your company, but at the same time I understand about your responsibilities. So go about your work, and I’ll sit quietly here. I promise to make no more interruptions.”

  Millicent stared at him, openmouthed. There was no way she could object. “Very well, m’lord. As you wish.”

  She withdrew her wrist gently and tried to appear composed as she turned back to her sents. At her encouraging nod, all but Moses sat down. The giant watchman continued to stare uneasily at Lyon.

  “Where were we?” she asked of the group.

  Several mumbled hushed comments about being finished with their writing exercises. It was time to move on to reading. Millicent grouped the students in twos and threes and, giving a Bible to each group, assigned a passage for each, telling them to alternate reading every three lines.

  Moses was still standing when she reached him, and she found the older man was clearly apprehensive. He also had no partner.

  The idea came to Millicent unexpectedly, and she voiced it before she had a chance even to consider how preposterous it was.

  “Lord Aytoun, would you consider acting as Moses’s reading partner?”

  Her question silenced the room. Everyone, Millicent included, was holding their breath. Lyon’s gaze moved from Millicent to Moses.

  “I should be delighted.”

  Millicent felt a knot loosen in the back of her throat. She could almost taste the saltiness of the tears that were about to escape. Lyon Pennington continued to surprise her at every turn.

  Lyon gave a quiet order to his men, and she hurried to Moses’s side to make room for the earl’s chair. The black man appeared as surprised as she was.

  “All will be well, Moses,” she whispered to him.

  No sooner had the earl’s chair been positioned at the table than Lyon looked up at the older man.

  “I understand you have an injured dog. How is it faring?”

  “Better, m’lord.”

  “Did they take off the leg?”

  “Nay, m’lord.”

  “Good. They didn’t take off mine, either.”

  Moses’s dark gaze fixed on Lyon’s legs.

  “Before we start to read, I want you to tell me about it,” the earl said, casting a glance at Millicent. “That is, if the mistress does not object.”

  “Not at all, m’lord,” she replied with a smile as Moses sat down.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Anything else I can do for ye, m’lord?”

  The curtains were drawn. All the candles but the one next to the bed had been snuffed out. The fire on the hearth had been tended. Lyon had changed into his nightshirt, and Ohenewaa—escorted by Millicent—had come and gone. This looked too much like the situation he had been left with for three nights in a row. John would retire and no one would disturb him until morning. Bloody hell.

  “Where is her ladyship now?” Lyon asked the valet.

  “I don’t know, m’lord. Sleeping, I should guess.”

  “Go find her.”

  “M’lord?”

  “Find her and tell her I need to see her.”

  With eyebrows raised, John started for the door.

  “Wait.”

  The short, round man turned and looked at his master.

  “Tell her there is an emergency. Tell her…tell her I’ve fallen from the bed. On my bad arm. Tell her I am back in bed but in severe pain.”

  John gaped at the earl, clearly uncomfortable about carrying such a message. “Perhaps I should get Mr. Gibbs for this, m’lord. If I—”

  “I am telling you to do it. And don’t fret so. I shall take full responsibility for the outcome. Wait! Whatever orders she gives—sending for doctors or anything else—it is your duty to make sure nothing is done.”

  The valet scratched his head and continued to stand by the door. “Can I say ye cut yer hand or burned yerself again, m’lord? Falling on that arm—”

  “Do as I say, you cowardly ape.” He gave his man a reassuring nod. “I shan’t make her suffer too long. I promise.”

  When the valet left the room, Lyon pushed himself closer to the edge of the bed. He wanted her within his reach when she came to check on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something as much as he wanted Millicent here right now. Spending the day with her had been fine. Lyon realized he had been more content than he had felt in months observing the many aspects of her involvement at Melbury Hall. This household was indeed like a great family, and Millicent sailed about like some queen mother, tending to all that needed to be done.

  Lyon adjusted a pillow behind his neck. This had also been the first day since the accident that he had felt nearly whole. He’d had no time to regret what was lost or who had wronged him. Instead, watching his wife, he had been filled with the simple desire to touch her. And that was what he intended to do now, even if it meant tricking her.

  Lyon heard Millicent’s urgent voice in the corridor, and he pulled the blanket over his right arm. A moment later the door of his bedroom banged open and she came quickly across the floor to him. Her hair was flying wildly about her.

  “Light those candles,” she ordered John, who had paused by the open doorway. “Send Ohenewaa here and tell Gibbs to send a rider to St. Albans for a surgeon.” She leaned over him and carefully lifted the covers off him. “Are you in great pain?”

  Lyon wrapped his good arm around her waist and held her against him. “You can leave now, John. Assure everyone that I need nothing else.”leave noheight="0">

  The valet immediately closed the door, and Millicent turned to him sharply.

  “How can you say that when you might have broken something?” Without waiting for an answer, she gingerly pushed the sleeve of the nightshirt up to his shoulder and started feeling his bare arm with her fingers. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Nowhere,” he said, admiring her as she continued to lean ov
er him. She was dressed in her nightdress and a robe that she had obviously not had time to tie at the waist. He stroked her back with his hand.

  “I cannot tell what is wrong.” She glanced toward the door. “Where is Ohenewaa?”

  “She is not coming.”

  “What do you mean?” Millicent tried to pull away, but Lyon tightened his hold around her.

  “I ordered John not to get her, or anyone else, for that matter.”

  His earlier direction to the valet finally registered, and she turned to him. Waves of auburn hair framed her pale face, and Lyon found himself staring. Her gray eyes looked huge and almost silvery; her lips were full and inviting, and he couldn’t wait to taste them

  “Why?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Because what is wrong with me now, no one but you can mend.”

  “Did you fall on your arm?”

  “No.”

  She tried to pull away, but his arm curved around her tighter. She braced herself, planting her hands on the pillow on either side of his head. Her eyes narrowed.

  “You tricked me.”

  “I confess. I wanted to see my wife.”

  “You have been with me all day.”

  “I needed you now,” he said softly.

  “You could have sent for me, and I would have come.”

  “I’m sure. But that would have been tomorrow morning, with three dozen people around.”

  “Not three dozen. One person would have been enough.”

  “Indeed. One too many.” Lyon’s hand moved up and down her back caressingly. “I must say I don’t care for it much when you stay away from my bed.”

  “Really?” There was a quaver in her voice. She seemed unable to tear her gaze from his lips.

  “I miss you,” he said under his breath. Her body moved slightly, and her breasts brushed against his chest. “I miss your attentions. And I miss your laughter. I miss this.”

  As he spoke, he pulled her down to him until her warm breath mingled with his.

  “This?”

  His gaze lifted, locking with hers. “This.”

  Lyon drew her mouth to his. She shivered and closed her eyes, and Lyon’s lips began to move on hers, possessively exploring each tender curve and trembling contour as if it were an uncharted new world that he had discovered and claimed for his own.

  “And there are other things I miss about not having you here, too.” Lyon felt the shaking arms give away. Her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “What else?”

  The wild pounding of her heart matched his.

  “Your beautiful body.”

  His hand glided over her hip to her thigh, urging her onto the bed. She complied, her body stretching out fully on his. Lyon deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue in slowly and withdrawing, realizing it was only an imitation of the act he was beginning to crave. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her.

  With a silent moan of surrender, Millicent cupped his face in her hands, and her lips started moving on his with awakening ardor.

  Lyon’s mouth became more demanding as he felt his body straining painfully with his arousal. His hand moved restlessly between their bodies. She shifted slightly, giving him room to caress her breast. She breathed in deeply, her flesh swelling beneath his palm, her nipple rising against the nightgown. He groaned in frustration and tore his mouth away.

  “Make love to me, Millicent.”

  Her face was flushed, almost intoxicated, when she looked into his eyes. “I…I don’t—”

  “I’ll tell you what to do. Help me make love to you.” He brushed his fingers lightly back and forth over her nipple through the fabric of her nightdress. “I know the other night I had started something that I did not finish. I am sorry if I hurt you. But with both of us awake, perhaps we can do better.”

  She started to push herself off him.

  “Wait,” he said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Very well. Whatever you want. I’m certain that when you married me, you did not bargain for this. What woman would want to take a cripple and then be forced to watch him fail as a man? What woman would settle for a straw man of a husband who might only make the act of love something weak and foolish?” He shook his head. “No. It is wrong of me to ask you to accept this useless body that cannot move even to love you. I only ask you to stay. I shall be content if you do just that. And there will be no more demands for—”

  “But I like your demands.”

  Millicent pressed him back into the pillow, kissing him deeply. Her tongue slipped tentatively into his mouth, then grew bolder. When she finally pulled back, breaking off the kiss, they were both breathless.

  “What should I do first?”

  Her innocent question had Lyon draw a few steadying breaths. “Take off your robe and nightdress.”

  With her knees on either siof his legs, Millicent knelt up slowly. Lyon saw her hands were trembling when they pushed the robe down off her shoulders. He held his breath as she began to untie the front of the nightgown.

  “I am nervous.”

  “So am I,” he replied softly. Lyon could feel her gaze upon him as he pulled the linen material down. She did not stop him until it clung tenuously to her smooth hips.

  She was so beautiful.

  Lyon’s gaze drifted downward from her face, admiring her cream-colored skin glowing in the candlelight. His eyes lingered at the sight of her round, full breasts. He reached out and touched the curve beneath one nipple, his finger brushing each tight bud.

  “You are a treasure. An exquisite and beautiful treasure.” He looked into her eyes. “I want to feel your body against me.”

  Lyon’s hand glided to her waist. He slipped the nightdress over her hips and her knees.

  "What else should I do?"

  “Take this shirt off me,” he said, sitting up, his voice husky with desire. Millicent reached over him and pulled the nightshirt up from beneath him, but got no farther.

  Lyon stretched out his hand and caressed the smooth skin along her thigh, sliding his hand between her legs. Immediately, she froze and clamped her legs together.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered roughly, sitting forward and taking her breast between his lips. She moaned and arched her back, and this time Lyon’s fingers began to probe the dark triangle at the juncture of her thighs, seeking entrance. “Give yourself to me, Millicent.”

  With a soft moan she relaxed, and Lyon’s fingers slipped deep into her wet warmth.

  After a moment he felt her begin to pulse against his hand. He stroked her and relished the feel of her growing passion. Her breaths quickened, and then suddenly, with a sob of startled pleasure, she was calling his name. She clutched him to her, burying her face in his hair and curling her entire body around his hand.

  As the waves began to subside in her, Lyon smiled. He had never really thought so much about the enjoyment of giving pleasure to a woman. True, he had always prided himself on the ability to please a woman, but this was different. Better.

  Even as the thought flickered through his mind, though, she moved one knee over him, and he positioned himself between her legs.

  “Take me inside of you.”

  Millicent’s hand moved ever so slowly between their bodies, and Lyon’s breath caught in his throat when her fingers wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and groaned out loud as her fingers tentatively moved down his length and she positioned herself at his peak. He heard the gasp as the head of his shaft entered her.

  “Now, Millicent.”

  Their gazes locked as their bodies joined together in a perfect fit.

  Though he could not move his legs, he did not want to move at all for fear of losing control. The sensations running through him were those that he had thought he would never experience again. The pleasure of her ight sheath closing around him was incomparable. He was alive again, and Millicent had made it happen.

  “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

  Her answer was a single t
ear that escaped one gray eye and slid down her flawless cheek before dropping onto his lips. Lyon tasted it and then kissed her as the urge to move became maddening. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he drove his tongue into her mouth again and again with the same sensual thrusts that he was incapable of doing with his body.

  When Millicent tore her mouth away, he almost groaned with frustration. The thought ran through his mind that she was already disgusted with his inability to pleasure either of them. But when he looked into her face, what he saw was wonder and passion. The lump of tenderness swelling in his chest was overwhelming. Lying there, he watched Millicent as she took his face between her hands and brushed her lips over his lips, his bearded cheeks, his nose, his ear.

  Then she started to move, ever so slightly, on top of him.

  Lyon’s fingers tightened on her hip, and he tried to guide her body. It was obvious that she was not very experienced in the art of love. She was following the instinct that nature provided, her body pulsing to the rhythms within her.

  Their mouths met again, and Lyon lay back, letting Millicent set the pace. He felt the pressure building within him. The roaring in his head nearly blocked out all other sound, and his body strained, desperate for release. But he did not want to let go. There would be no joy in the race if she were not there beside him. Her body was sliding against his, her hips grinding into him. She was panting, and he could see the color rising in her face.

  “Lyon,” she whispered against his lips. “I have never…never…felt this.”

  He moved his hand between their bodies. The moment he touched her, she tipped over passion’s edge and cried out, convulsing around him, and Lyon, too, reached that point of no return. As his body shuddered, he erupted within her as a blaze of fiery colors exploded before his eyes.

  *****