by EM BROWN
Her cheeks burned with the truth of his words. His gaze bore into her with an intensity she had never experienced before, and she could not meet his eyes. Instead, she looked past him and studied the pattern of the silk wallpaper as she said, “And perhaps you know the rest. I suspect you were out looking for me.”
Trying to bring back his errant wife, Harrietta chided bitterly to herself.
“I was,” he verified. “How is it you managed to return here without passing us on the road?”
“I suspected the nearest inn lay further from London,” Harrietta explained. “I rode there and took a post-chaise back.”
“Ah.”
Vale seemed to struggle with something, a hand clenching, before coercing words through gritted teeth. “Did he lay a hand upon you?”
“I—”
It was no use to deny that she ever meant to have an affair with Elroy, though she thought now she would sooner die than to submit to the villain.
“He did but briefly before...before I kicked him,” she murmured.
She heard him sigh with relief.
“And scratched him, I take it?”
She looked at him, blanching. “You—you met him?”
“I saw marks on one cheek and he nursed a wound on the other side of his head.”
“Oh, that must have been the bottle of wine I hit him with.”
He smiled, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “You will not find yourself disturbed by him again. Nor are you any longer indebted to him.”
She frowned. If only she had found a way to address her problem on her own and not have to be saved by her husband!
“I cannot repay you the two thousand,” she said, “but I would gladly have you suspend my allowance till that sum is met.”
“That won’t be necessary. Elroy received not a pence from me, but I made my case rather convincingly, I think.”
She looked at him, curious that he still seemed to show little sign of anger. She could only imagine what the encounter would have been like between the two, but she did not doubt that Vale would have prevailed in his purpose.
“I have caused you such trouble with my foolishness,” she said, “and perhaps rumors have already begun of me and Lord Elroy...and I am so sorry. I am truly sorry, Vale. I shall not fault you an you choose not to forgive me.”
The tears pushed once more upon her eyes, and she bit back the sob that threatened to fly from her throat. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his.
“It is I who must ask forgiveness,” he said, and it seemed his voice quivered as much as hers. “Forgive me, Harrietta. I have been a poor and selfish husband.”
“Forgive you, my lord?” she inquired, bewildered.
He pressed a hand of hers to his mouth. That was when she noticed his right hand was bound in linen marked by dark red spots.
“You’ve been hurt!” she remarked in alarm.
“’Tis nothing.” When she looked at him skeptically, he added, “I had the aid of my sword to persuade Elroy of my point.”
She paled. “You fought Lord Elroy?”
“It’s time had come. I am surprised it had not happened ere now.”
“Oh!”
“Harrietta! What is it?”
“I feel more miserable than ever to think—to think you had risked your life on my behalf.”
“I would have done more, Harrietta. Easily. I adore you, Harrietta.”
His gaze locked hers, and she could not look away. Of course he meant he loved her like a sister, because for so long he had been like another Harold to her.
But when he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to meet his, he kissed her in a most un-brotherly manner. She was lost in its power, in the forceful way he consumed her mouth, his lips and tongue roved and absorbed every dip, every crease, every inch of her mouth. His hunger was palpable, as if he had denied his appetite for too long and could not feast enough of her. The air betwixt them grew hot with need and desire. And for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the tears that were streaming down her, the brininess mingled on their lips. Not the discomfort in her neck from having her head pushed back against her shoulder blades. Nothing but the thrill of his touch. Of him. Her husband.
At last he released her mouth and leaned in to press his lips against her throat. She arched her body toward his, wanting every part of her to touch him, desiring him with every fiber of her being. He responded by clasping her closer and devouring her with his mouth. Pulling the sleeves of her gown past her shoulders, he trailed his mouth there, then back below her collarbone to tongue the crevice at the bottom of her neck. She clung to the lapels of his coat as if she would fall, though his sturdy grasp of her secured her body firmly in place.
His mouth traveled back to hers, and Harrietta kissed him back with all the longing and desperation that had been locked inside of her set free. Her hands circled around the back of his neck as their tongues collided as if dueling for position. For her, they could not kiss enough. She could go on for hours if not for the urgent ache coming to life between her legs. Her hands slid to his cravat and she tried to loosen it. She was unaccustomed to the task, but he assisted her without once taking his lips from hers.
Once his cravat was undone, he tore off the neckcloth and shed his coat. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he molded her body to his. She exalted in the hardness of his cock against her abdomen, and she felt his urgency as well. There was no tenderness, only a raw, maddening desire to have each other. He ripped through the pins on the back of her gown and pulled down the bodice and chemise underneath to reveal her breasts. Cupping one with his hand, he clamped his mouth down upon its nipple. Her quim throbbed in response. Over and over he tongued the hardened nub, suckled it, teased it until she called out his name. He fondled it between finger and thumb, then palmed and squeezed the entire breast.
Her impatience to have their bodies united grew with every caress, every exchange of breaths. She boldly reached her hand below his waist to feel his erection. He groaned as she rubbed his crotch. He grabbed her hand and removed it. Had she offended? Harrietta wondered. Was it inappropriate for her to have touched him? Did he not wish to couple with her?
He stilled the questions in her mind by rising and sweeping her into his arms. He deposited her onto her bed and covered her body with his. The weight of him atop her felt marvelous. Emboldened, she reached for the buttons on his breeches.
“Harrietta,” he said, his eyes shining, “there is perhaps a more proper way to make love to one’s wife for the first time.”
“There is a proper way?” she replied in dismay.
“In truth, I confess a strong desire to ravish you.”
“Then ravish me, Vale.”
It was a command. Groaning, he fell to kissing her again while his hands roamed her body. She wanted to remove his shirt, but satisfied herself by pulling the hem of it from his breeches and thrusting her hands beneath to caress his chiseled chest. Her fingers grazed his hardened nipples. She then dropped her hands to unbutton his breeches and find his glorious cock. It was as hard as ivory and filled her hand with its warmth and thickness. She felt her wetness pooling between her legs.
“Are you sure you want this, Harrietta?” he asked as he ran his tongue along her jaw and licked her ear.
She had never wanted anything more. “Yes, Vale, yes.”
He pulled up the layers of her gown and petticoat toward her waist and bared her legs. She had chosen not to put on her hosiery and kicked off her slippers. Her thighs parted for him, but he would not mate with her. Not yet. He lowered his head and blew upon her hot wetness. Then his tongue reached for her clitoris. Harrietta jumped, but her ache wanted so much to be tended to, and she soon settled into the rhythmic stroking of his tongue against her. How delicious it felt! How familiar! It was as if he knew her body, knew all her sensitive spots. She supposed it was because he was such a skilled lover.
Soon he had her panting and whimpering. Her muscles tighte
ned and she clutched at the sheets below her. Her climax sent her limbs convulsing as his tongue pushed her higher until she knew not wither she came or went. Finally, he eased her down. His caressing became gentle. Closing her eyes, Harrietta allowed the glow to permeate her. She felt him kiss her on the thigh, her mons, her belly. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, but the hunger remained. The hunger to be filled by him.
VALE STARED AT THE bliss written across her countenance, feeling triumphant for it had been he and not her “lord” from the Cavern who had made her spend. It had taken all his resolve not to take her from the start, but he wanted her to spend, to climax over and over again, until she was delirious. Wanted her to know no equal to what she experienced with him.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. A wondrous tenderness filled his heart, and the need to possess her increased. He put a hand to her waist, wishing the fabric of her gown could be easily torn away. He wanted to feel her flesh, wanted the softness of her skin against him, wanted to worship her body with his hands.
Curling a hand about his arm, she pulled him on top of her. As she gazed into his eyes, it seemed her own reflected stars. She was captivating. He had always known this. Only the tribulations and monotony of life had obscured that truth.
She lifted her hips to him, her desire clear. Quelling the urge to thrust into her immediately, he stroked her quim with his cock, sliding along her wetness, making her moan until she pulled at him with frustration. Only then did he push the head of his cock at her opening. He had to close his eyes at the heat and wetness that engulfed him when he entered her. Heaven help him, he could have easily spent in a minute.
But she had gasped and stiffened beneath him, so he took his time, kissing her until she wrapped a leg about him. A part of him wished he had shed his boots and breeches, but he had no patience. It seemed he had waited his lifetime for this, for her. Plunging deeper, he felt the muscles of her quim grasping him tightly, and he was reminded of the pleasure balls. With a smile to himself, he entwined his fingers in hers and raised her arms over her head. The position reminded him of when she had been suspended from one of the hooks at the Cavern.
Rocking his hips slowly, he moved in and out of her. She made the little sounds that all women make. Sounds that could be interpreted as either pain or pleasure—or both. He made a concerted effort to thrust at the angle that produced the most explosive reactions from her, and soon her hips were moving in rhythm to his. He quickened his pace for her. Soon the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of grunting and gasping, of the bed thudding against the wall.
Harrietta let out a cry that could have sent the servants rushing into her chambers. Her body jerked beneath his, awash in spasms, and he pushed himself hard and deep into her. His own orgasm bowled through him with the force of a charging stallion. Letting out his own roar, he bucked against her until his seed emptied itself into her. But to his surprise, the knot in his groin remained. His legs shook uncontrollably, and he gripped her wrists so hard she gasped. A second wave of semen shot from his cock, and only then did his body relax. He collapsed on top of her, his cock still pulsing inside of her. Eyes shut, he briefly wondered if he had been rendered blind by the intensity of it all.
He kissed her neck and inhaled the aroma of desire fulfilled. His heart felt overfull with emotions, and as he rolled his weight off of her and gathered her in his arms, he thought that he could not hold her tight enough. She settled willingly into his body, and all was right with the world.
SHE HAD NO WISH TO sever the moment, but she could not help but remember when last they had kissed and the pain that had followed. As beautiful as their lovemaking had been, she could not surrender herself fully.
“The Countess?” she found herself saying, as if reminding him of his duty to his mistress.
He pulled back abruptly, and she regretted in an instant that she had spoken. Why should she care about the Countess? Perhaps it was enough to share his love. She did not think it impossible for a human heart to love more than one at once.
“Harrietta, the Countess is nothing,” he said, pained.
“I don’t understand.”
He let out a breath. “She was never my true mistress. It was but a ruse, a cover for her true affair with another woman.”
“A ruse? All this time?”
He nodded. “And it is all at an end. I could not...I could not continue in it. How could I and be truthful to the woman I love?”
“The woman you love?” she croaked.
Lifting her chin, he pinned her with a look that needed no words. This time she could not prevent the sob. The tears flowed with fresh energy—tears of relief, tears of sadness for the unnecessary pain endured, tears of joy.
“Darling, what is it?” he asked in alarm.
She shook her head. “N-Naught but that I love you, too.”
He crushed her in his embrace. He kissed the tears on her cheeks and claimed her mouth once more. She trembled against him, unable to fathom so much happiness.
“I think, Harrietta,” he said into her hair, one hand protectively holding her head against his lips, “I have always loved you. My heart knew it, but my mind did not.”
Harrietta groaned. “But I am a wretched wife! I have made a cuckold of you for surely word shall spread that I met Lord Elroy at the inn. And—”
“Perhaps, but it matters not. Let others think what they will. If I had not been such a wretched husband, mayhap none of this would have come to pass.”
Not satisfied, she pressed her lips in a line. “I would that you would punish me instead of blessing me with your love.”
A smile formed on his delectable mouth. “If it is punishment you seek, Marchioness, that can most assuredly be arranged.”
Chapter Twenty-One
VALE FOLLOWED HARRIETTA as she made her way to Madame Botreaux’s. Upon her arrival, she wore her customary mask but did not undress before proceeding down into the Cavern. After he had shed his garments for a simple pair of breeches and his mask of silver and black, Vale walked out onto the balcony where Penelope and Lance were already lounging.
“Your wife has returned,” Lance informed him.
“I know it,” Vale said with a small smile.
Penelope studied him through her looking glass. “You seem less perturbed by it this evening.”
“Ah, Penelope, I regret to inform you—nay, I have no regrets and am pleased to inform you that Lord Elroy will no longer be a patron of yours.”
Penelope frowned but received the news better than he expected. “Ah, well, you may have been right about him.”
“I was at Brooks’s today,” Lance informed him. “Simmons told me that it was Lord Elroy who wrote the bet about your becoming a cuckold.”
“After tonight, he will have won his bet,” Vale replied.
Anxious to attend to Harrietta, Vale did not elucidate and left Lance and Penelope to exchange quizzical glances with each other. He headed down into the Cavern toward the last corner alcove where Harrietta would be waiting.
She stood with her gaze trained to the back. She was wearing a caraco of cotton chintz with elbow-length sleeves, a flounced skirt, and a neck handkerchief—entirely too much clothing, Vale thought to himself. The only part of her that was bare beneath her neck were her forearms. That would change soon enough, he determined.
“You are late, ma petite,” he told her.
“Yes, my lord,” Harrietta acknowledged, her gaze as straight and direct as that of a soldier.
“Why are you clothed?”
“Henceforth, I will no longer be a patron of Madame Botreaux’s, my lord.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons, my lord. I came only to bid you adieu.”
He circled around her while lightly tapping his crop against his outer thigh. “I think I can persuade you to stay.”
Her gaze dropped in puzzlement, but only for a second. “I thought my lord preferred I did not?”
; “I’ve changed my mind.” Standing behind her, he brushed aside a tendril of her hair with his crop. “There is far more for you to explore here.”
“Be that as it may, I am done, my lord.”
She stepped away from him to take her leave, but he barred her path with his crop.
“I have not granted you permission to leave.”
“I am no longer your submissive, my lord.”
Vale smiled broadly at her. When she realized the contradiction of her words, she flushed.
“You have said that I am free to choose whether I stay or leave.”
“But I have no desire for you to go.”
Pressing her lips in a grim line, she pushed aside his crop, but he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back into the alcove. Beneath the eyeholes of her mask, her eyes flared with indignation. Pinning her to his body with one arm, he circled his other hand to cup her chin. His cock was lengthening against his breeches. He wished there were not the layers of petticoats to separate her rump from resting alongside his thigh.
“Unhand me or I shall scream,” she threatened.
“Here in the Cavern, your screams would only indicate the pleasure you are experiencing.”
Realizing he was right, she began to struggle against him.
“My husband will see you hanged,” she said.
“You would admit to him that you are a patron here?”
Her body sagged as she considered the prospect, and Vale wondered if he should reveal the truth of his identity at that moment, but he had no time to decide. Harrietta had picked up her foot and brought the heel of her shoe down on his foot. Vale cursed but quickly recovered his grasp of her before she slipped away. Grabbing her, he flung her back against the wall and pinned her in place with his body. He thought of how delicious her body had felt under his earlier that day.
“You did not think highly of your husband before,” he whispered near her ear. “What makes you think he would come to your aid?”