The Earl of Benton_Wicked Regency Romance

by Madeline Martin

  Alistair cupped her sweet face in his right palm. “You are so damn lovely, Emma.” He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her. His movements were more carefully measured this time, slowly stoking the fire between them. It would not do to have their passion flare out of control as before. Not when he would have to be gentle with her.

  Her tongue brushed his and she leaned into him. With his free hand, he explored her unclothed body. He palmed the weight of the breasts for which he held such affinity, and he grazed over the hardening of her nipples. Down his exploration took him, past the dip of her navel and the curling hair atop her mons. By the time he was ready to stroke between her legs, they were both breathing hard.

  Alistair's cock strained heavy and hard against Emma's hip and when his fingers finally skimmed over her sex… He growled with a deep, hungry, desperate sound. She was slick with wanting, so temptingly ready.

  He gently eased her back, onto the bed and her thighs parted to cradle his hips. “Are ye sure?” he asked, though it killed him to do so. “Once it's done, it canna be undone.”

  “Yes,” she panted. “Yes, do not prolong this any further.” She flexed her hips upward. “Please.”

  He had his answer, and with a carefully positioned thrust, he would soon have her.

  Chapter 9

  Emma's heart thrummed too fast in her chest and left her mind swirling. But then, how could she not be nearly out of her faculties when a man as handsome as Alistair Johnstone hovered over her, staring at her the way she'd always dreamed a man might.

  Yes, he did make her feel beautiful.

  Yes, he did make her feel wanted.

  The proof of his desire nudged at her center, where she throbbed equally as much in want of him. His hips pressed forward and the gentle nudge became an insistent pressure. She arched herself up to meet him, desperate for the deep gratification he would surely bring her. After all, if his hand had produced such sensations, what might his cock do?

  He eased into her, a strangely foreign feel that was not unpleasant.

  “This might be painful.” His brow creased with obvious concern. “But I hear it’s fleeting.”

  Emma's hazy mind tilted briefly. He'd heard the pain was fleeting? Did he not know for certain? Wasn't it supposed to feel good?

  She opened her mouth to ask a question, or possibly a whole multitude of them as they rushed through the fog in her thoughts. Alistair thrust forward into her and a sharp pain flashed from between her legs. She cried out in surprise.

  “I thought it was supposed to feel good,” she gasped.

  He winced. “After.”

  It was an awkward moment, lying beneath him with the wisps of lust swept away by confusion and discomfort and the bulky bit of him stuffed inside her.

  “That was yer maidenhead,” he clarified. “It will only ever be painful the first time, and it willna last.”

  Sweat glistened on his brow and his body remained locked in place over her. He moved his hand between them and gently stroked the bud of her sex. A pulse of desire warmed through her again.

  “Do ye want me to stop?” he asked.

  Emma swallowed and shook her head.

  Alistair gently drew himself from her and there was a pinch inside once more. He bent over her and traced her nipple with his tongue. The familiar enjoyment of the act spread through her and she made a low moan in her throat. Slowly and carefully, he slowly thrust into her once more. This time, the twinge had subsided and the thickness of him left a fullness within her core.

  He repeated his actions with apparent care, and again the discomfort faded further and gave way to the drive of warm, delicious heat. His thumb continued to play over the source of her desire and his tongue continued to tease.

  Emma widened the spread of her legs, eager to take him in deeper, get more of him.

  “Better?” he asked raggedly against her breast.

  She moaned and the simultaneous stimulation throughout her body - the heat of his tongue over her breast, the delicious rhythm of his thumb over the bud of her sex, the steady stroke of his cock inside of her, all of it building to what she knew she needed. “Yes.”

  Her hands played over the powerful planes of his back, exploring his strength while his pace increased. Her body was too hot, too eager. She tensed at the overwhelming sensations, this time aware of exactly what was happening.

  “Aye,” he growled. “Come for me again, Emma.”

  He rose away from her breasts and gazed down at her, his thrusts growing more insistent, more powerful. Emma cried out each time he drove into her, her body being sent higher and higher and higher until she could rise no more. She clamped her eyes shut and let her sensations fly out of control. Her voice went husky around a soft scream and everything in her exploded with the most incredible pleasure, unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

  The white-hot bliss subsided into waves, encouraged by the continued thrust of Alistair's cock. His movements became more determined until he pulled from her suddenly and gave a low groan.

  Startled, Emma opened her eyes and found him cupping the head of his cock. The warmth of her body immediately began to cool without him inside against her, inside her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He gave her a languid smile, one more carefree than she'd seen grace his handsome face since they met. “Making sure I dinna get ye with child.” He got to his feet and crossed the room to where the washbasin stood.

  The idea of him keeping his seed from her did not sit well with her. It was foolish, really. She did not wish for a child, and should be grateful for his consideration. And yet there was part of her which didn't like that he kept some part of himself from her.

  He cleaned himself with a bit of linen and returned to the bed with a second cloth in his hand. “May I?” he asked.

  Her cheeks went hot and she nodded, suddenly ridiculously modest.

  He swept the cloth tenderly between her legs. The cool dampness of it was glorious against the throbbing heat of her skin.

  “Did I hurt ye?” His brow furrowed.

  “Only at first,” she answered honestly. “The rest held no pain, I assure you.”

  He smiled lightly at that. “I hoped as much.”

  He moved the cloth gently and made it seem more of a caress where it stroked over her center and grazed the bud of her sex, where her body was still terribly sensitive. She gave a soft gasp and her hips flexed upward of their own volition.

  A muscle flexed in his jaw and he rubbed over the intimate place with his cloth once more. The weight of his gaze fell on her face.

  “I like that,” she stated simply.

  “I know.” There was a tightness to his voice which made her grow wet with wanting once more. Was it common to want her lover so soon after having recently had him? Did this make her wanton?

  He removed the cloth from her and got to his feet. “Not again tonight.” He set the cloth in the basin and came back to the bed. “I want to wait until you are fully recovered.” The aristocratic tone had filtered into his voice and gone was the sensual Scottish burr.

  Emma's heart beat faster at the idea of doing more of what they'd shared. “You mean to take me again?” There was a throatiness to her voice she had not intended.

  He climbed into bed beside her and lay the length of his powerful body against her softer one. He put a strong arm around her and cradled her close. Immediately Emma was filled with a complete sense of protection and adoration, a feeling as exquisite as when he made her come.

  “I plan to take ye as many times as ye’ll have me,” he said against her ear. The pressure of his swelling cock rose along her bottom where it was nestled against his groin. “I would show ye more pleasure than ye ever thought possible.”

  He had already given her so much. And next time there would be no pain to interrupt. Emma gave a soft moan at the thought.

  “Tomorrow night, my love,” he whispered. “Tomorrow night.”

  Suddenly i
t seemed ages stretched between then and the following night. And suddenly her time remaining in Scotland was not nearly enough.

  ***

  Alistair had not kept to his intention to not have Emma until the next night. In fact, they spent a good deal of time through the late hours and into dawn exploring one another's bodies.

  They made their way to the carriage the following morning, arm in arm. Happy satisfaction glowed on Emma's face and left Alistair's chest puffed with pride.

  Hamish doffed his battered tam and held it to his chest as they strode past. “Marriage suits ye, Lady Benton.”

  Emma slid Alistair a sly grin. “Does it?”

  MacKenzie, however, glanced at them, and the skin around the valet's eyes tightened. Had Alistair not known the man for so long, he would have missed the look and what it implied. MacKenzie was uneasy with the arrangement. It took only that one small note of speculation for Alistair's joy to be ruptured.

  Because MacKenzie had every right to be uneasy.

  He'd heard the exchange with Hamish where Alistair and Emma had declared themselves to be husband and wife. What had transpired between he and Emma was written across her face as brilliantly as the red carmine had been when they first met. Her cheeks were flushed, her face glowed, and her attention constantly gravitated in Alistair's direction. And there was still the matter of Madge…

  For the first time since Alistair had decided to have Emma the night before, he harbored regrets.

  He climbed into the carriage and found Emma sitting on the bench he'd occupied thus far on their journey. She'd moved over to only consume half the available space. Leaving the other half for him, of course.

  “A husband should sit beside his wife, should he not?” she asked with a glint in her eye.

  Alistair obediently sat.

  Beast eagerly availed himself on the bench opposite them and flopped over the entirety of its surface in a show of luxury.

  “I took advantage of you last night,” Alistair said.

  Emma did not reply. She regarded him with large blue eyes, her full mouth settled in a subtle pout of disappointment. “You regret having been with me,” she said slowly.

  He stared down at her and couldn't stop the memories from flooding back. How soft those lips were to kiss, how warm and alluring. The things she had done with that mouth…

  Even as he attempted to explain what he did was wrong, he could not stop the pull of desire. “No.” He closed her eyes to blot out her image and found it seared in his mind the way stars did the sky. “And yes.”

  When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him with a plaintive expression, awaiting his explanation. “My God, you're so exquisite, Emma. I cannot help myself with you.”

  Her brows drew down in a stubborn expression. “I don’t understand. Why do you regret it?”

  “Ye were a maiden,” he said.

  “1 don't intend to wed. It doesn't matter.”

  “But it does.” His protest came more sharply than he'd intended. Beast lifted his head and gave a nervous wag of his tail.

  “You're right.” She tilted her head in an airy fashion. “It does matter. To me. In a world governed by men, I have had the opportunity to determine my own fate and play my own fortunes. I have decided to remain unwed, and in spite of that, I would allow myself to experience pleasure. Few other women have as much freedom.”

  The disquiet of Alistair's thoughts nipped once more at his mind. Because there was more to everything than what had transpired between them. There was their marriage.

  There was his mother.

  He suppressed a shudder. It had been easy not to consider Madge and her reaction to Emma's arrival when they were so many days from Lochslin. Then, he’d been thriving on the English side and saving a hapless Englishwoman from a terrible fate.

  But Madge did await them. And as much as Alistair disliked the English, she loathed them with a far deeper, more bitter intensity. Without sensing Alistair’s concerns, Beast put his head to his paws and his eyes slowly fell shut. Alistair pulled the flask from his jacket pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

  He tilted it in Emma’s direction in offering. “To your independence, my love.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she accepted. She took a dainty drink, swallowed, and handed it back. “To my independence.”

  “How long have we been traveling?” she asked.

  Alistair took another swig before capping the container and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “About a fortnight.”

  “So I'm nearly halfway to my birthday,” she said in a tone that suggested she meant it more for herself than for conversation.

  “Ye sound…disappointed.”

  She smiled slowly, wickedly. “I've discovered a good distraction.” Her hand brushed over his arm.

  Though he could barely feel her caress through his jacket, the idea of it left his cock swelling with desire once more. She was right, after all, a distraction was a wonderful thing. Especially when they were less than a week away from Lochslin…and Madge.

  Chapter 10

  As it was, they had only five more nights on their journey before reaching Lochslin. Alistair wished it had been enough to sate his interest in Emma Thorne, but each tupping left him wanting even more. While their shared time had been ephemeral in nature, it had been more than sufficient for him to glean more about Emma than he had any other woman.

  He found himself marveling at how incredibly silky her skin was under his rough fingertips and how her voice took on a lower, huskier quality when she became aroused. He came to know the jests which would elicit her carefree laugh and discovered exactly how well they fit together, as though they'd been made for one another.

  And so it was on the final day of their travel, he could discern her unsettled silence over the noise of his own blaring misgivings. She sat opposite him with Beast nearly sitting in her lap. Alistair had gotten her a new frock on their last stop, a lovely cotton gown with sprigs of flowers dotting over the soft white fabric. It was of a finer quality than the last, with the small sleeves and high waist currently in fashion.

  Her fingers absently stroked over Beast's head, oblivious to how his liquid brown eyes stared up at her with concern.

  “Ye've been quiet,” Alistair said. His Scots burr had thickened again, but he hadn’t bothered to hide it as he had when they first arrived in Scotland. It was impossible to, even if he wanted to. There was a part of him, undoubtedly his heart or soul or both, that pulled the brogue from him without his notice.

  Emma did not break her distant observation of the window. “You’ve been quiet as well.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to protest her statement, but she was correct. He had been too engrossed in his thoughts of their approach to Lochslin - how his mother might react to Emma, how he could keep her from knowing about the marriage, how he could suggest as much to Emma delicately, how the hell he was to smuggle twenty casks of whisky.

  The carriage had been fitted with a hollow bottom and the benches they sat upon were empty as well, but Alistair would need to make use of the ten false bottom trunks he'd commissioned several months ago when Madge first requested his help slipping a small bit of whisky down to Edinburgh.

  The transport was hollow as well and would offer more space. It could work. As long as they weren't stopped.

  “As I said, you've been quiet as well.” Emma held a hand up as if in demonstration.

  Alistair straightened. “Ye’re correct.” His stomach swam with unease. He had to warn her about Madge and to not mention the marriage to his mother. He ought to tell her about the whisky running. He shifted in his seat. “I am afraid there is something I must say before we arrive at Lochslin Castle.”

  Emma’s eyes widened and her face went pallid. “Dear God. You do have a wife, don't you?”

  Alistair shook his head in confusion. “No, of course I don't. I told ye I didn't.”

  Her shoulders lowered and an exhale whooshed out of her. He cou
ld laugh at his own palpable relief - for a feisty mother was not nearly as bad as the wife Emma apparently feared she had to contend with.

  “My mother,” he said. “Madge.”

  Emma tilted her head slightly toward him for him to continue.

  “She willna take kindly to our being wed.” Alistair eased a finger into his cravat to loosen it and made a mental note to tell MacKenzie to have more care going forward. “Hamish willna be present at Lochslin Castle, and MacKenzie willna speak.”

  “You're saying it would be in our best interest to refrain from saying we are wed.”

  Alistair nodded, glad she was able to surmise the details without him having to say them all.

  “Of course, I understand. I imagine it might make things rather awkward someday when you did bring home a…” she trailed off and shook her head with a small awkward laugh.

  “I dinna plan on taking a wife, remember?” He reached for her hand.

  Emma limply let his fingers curl around hers. “You're an earl. It is your duty to wed and have an heir as it is to serve with Parliament during the season.” She lowered her eyes. “You must wed.”

  “I enjoy being married to ye.” He studied her smooth, creamy skin - so fair and soft against his own, and pressed a delicate kiss to her knuckles.

  Emma's cheeks flushed with delight and her eyes twinkled in the way he preferred, when the weight of her worry lifted from her features. “I shall miss sharing your bed,” she whispered.

  The heat warming through him cooled. It was true, they would no longer have the privacy and intimacy together in Lochslin Castle. “I could put ye in a room near mine,” he suggested.

  She chewed her bottom lip. “It wouldn’t be appropriate. What would your mother think if she were to discover us?”

  He chuckled. “Ye dinna know Madge.”