“I didn’t,” she replied in a matching whisper, her hand moving to another rib and then to the soft flesh above his curlies. She delighted in how he jerked and emitted a low growl when she circled a finger there.
“You minx!” he accused.
Elise giggled, the musical sound bringing a grin to his lips. “Do you mind? I find I’m rather enjoying this opportunity to get to know you better.” She didn’t wait for his response but moved her fingers lower.
Godfrey sucked in another breath. “This isn’t fair, I tell you,” he said in a strangled whisper, especially when her forefinger trailed the vein down the back of his erection. He was sure she could feel how he throbbed, how at any moment, her touch would set off a release he would have no hope of stopping.
“Fair?” she countered with an arched eyebrow.
Sputtering a bit, Godfrey finally sighed. “What am I allowed to do?” he managed to get out just before her finger made a circle over the tip of his manhood. He sucked in a breath and concentrated on controlling himself.
“What do you want to do?”
Godfrey blinked, not sure how to answer the simple question. “I wish to make love to you. To make you feel these same sensations. To bring you to ecstasy and ensure you’ll never want to share a bed with another man for the rest of your life,” he murmured, his words tumbling out as he lifted his body from the bed and pushed hers back down onto the mattress so she was flat on her back.
Elise felt a rush of excitement when he traded places, but realized he wasn’t about to do anything more without some sort of direction.
Permission.
“I will admit, I was rather looking forward to marital relations with a man of some... experience—”
“Teach me,” Godfrey begged as he supported his torso on his free elbow and gazed down at her. “Teach me how to make love to you. How you like it. Tell me what to do to bring you to ecstasy.”
Her warm hand still pressed against his chest, its heat increasing so he felt as if she were slowly branding him, Elise gave him a slight shake of her head. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve never found sexual relations very ... pleasant.”
Godfrey stared down at his wife, her words a mix of surprise and—dare he think it?—relief. At least he had the benefit of having read some books on the subject.
Well, not read so much as studied the illustrations.
He knew what went where, of course, but there was so much more to sexual relations, wasn’t there? Seduction. Touching. Kissing. Providing pleasure. “Then we shall have to learn from one another,” he murmured before settling his lips over hers.
Before she could begin to return the kiss, Elise felt a tremble of excitement—or perhaps it was merely anticipation—pass through her body. His lips barely touched hers, as if he feared bruising them.
Moving one hand to the back of his neck, Elise pulled him down closer, an invitation he accepted in how his lips opened and deepened the kiss. It was some time before he finally pulled away and regarded her with a look of worry.
“Are you cold?” he whispered, his lips hovering over hers as if he were trying to decide what to kiss next.
Cold? Her addled brain wondered why he could think such a thing, but then she realized her entire body seemed to vibrate beneath him. “No,” she breathed before she reached up with her lips and captured his again.
He moved his lips from hers, trailing the soft kisses down her cheek, along her jaw, and down to her earlobe, where he pulled the soft flesh between his teeth and gently nibbled. Spurred on by her almost soundless gasps, he continued the kisses down her neck. Soft kisses, as if flutterby wings were flitting over her soft flesh.
This is easy, he thought with some satisfaction. Perhaps I can just do this all night.
Of course he would have to do more, but for now, kisses were enough.
Chapter 35
Wedding Night Wonders and Wonderings
Meanwhile, back in the mistress suite in Breckinridge’s bachelor quarters
Wearing a robe loosely tied about his middle, Adam Comber, Viscount Breckinridge and future Earl of Aimsley, entered the mistress bedchamber of his small townhouse in Green Street by way of the dressing room. He gave a nod to his new wife’s maid, who quickly curtsied and took her leave of the room as if she were scared to death of him.
“I didn’t mean to frighten her,” Adam murmured as he turned to regard his wife’s reflection in the vanity mirror. He took note of the white night rail on the counterpane and then realized Diana wore only a dressing gown as she sat at the vanity.
He had to tamp down the sudden arousal he felt when he realized she was naked beneath the dressing gown.
She allowed a grin. “I take it you two haven’t been introduced,” she teased. At his quick head shake, she added, “Susan didn’t know we were newlyweds until I forbid her from taking the pins from my hair.”
Adam moved to stand behind her and considered where to start. “Do you know how many pins there are?” he asked as he plucked first one and then another out. When nothing happened—her hair remained in its loose bun atop her head—Adam leaned forward and stared down, unaware of Diana’s look of amusement as she watched his reflection in the mirror.
“I apologize. I was so nervous when I was inserting them early this morning, I didn’t keep count,” she said as he found another and pulled it out from the base of the bun.
“You pinned up your own hair? Today?” The question suggested he was shocked.
“Someone had to. I haven’t had the benefit of my own maid since I lived with my parents,” she replied with a shrug.
The movement caused her dressing gown to slide down one shoulder just a bit, and from his vantage, Adam was suddenly glancing down a deep, dark crevice. When his arousal threatened to send his cock peeking out from between the robe’s opening, he returned his attention to her hair and the pins therein. He yanked out another. When not a single lock of hair fell, he stepped back.
“Is there some trick to this?” he asked, obviously perplexed by her coiffure.
Diana shook her head and a lock of hair dislodged itself from the rest, falling down so it ended at the top of one of her collar bones. From his question, she realized he had never done this before when she’d had the impression he had done it for all the women he had ever bedded.
“It’s long then, is it?” he whispered, his voice holding a good deal of appreciation. Awe, even.
“Somewhat,” Diana agreed. The feel of his fingers barely touching her scalp had a shiver of anticipation racing down her spine. “So... you’ve not done this before?” she ventured as she continued to watch his reflection in the mirror.
“Played lady’s maid?” he replied quickly. “I have not.” He paused a moment. “Unless you count the time I braided my sister’s hair. Made a cake of it, but she didn’t seem to mind. I think she was three or four at the time. Sick maid, or some such.”
Her eyes widening in surprise, Diana turned around to regard him. “Lady Emelia? Is that right?”
Nodding and rather happy to have a new vantage of his wife’s décolletage—and her bun—Adam pulled several more pins from her hair. “She has recently returned from finishing school in Geneva. She’s...” He paused a moment to figure how old she was. “Seventeen. Eighteen, perhaps?”
This information had Diana’s brows furrowing. “Could she have been one of my students a few years ago?” she wondered. She remembered his comment about Emelia Comber attending finishing school in Switzerland, but she wasn’t sure she had taught Emelia Comber during her first year at Warwick’s.
“Doubtful,” Adam replied as he searched for another pin. “She was in Geneva these past three years. Living with a family friend—Andrew Burroughs, the youngest son of...” He paused, realizing his wife was related to Andrew. In fact, the man was her uncle! “The youngest son of your grandfather—and attending finishing school with his daughter, Lady Sophia.”
Diana considered th
is bit of news. “Why Switzerland, do you suppose?”
Adam brightened. “My mother attended that particular finishing school in Geneva,” he explained proudly. “And I think there may have been a bit of scandal associated with one of the instructors at Warwick’s during Emelia’s time there. Had her quite unhappy, so Mum saw to it she was sent off to the Continent.”
Although she hadn’t yet been hired when that ‘bit of scandal’ had occurred, Diana had been hired as a result of it. She replaced the teacher that had caused the trouble. “I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” she murmured.
Adam considered her apology. “There’s no need for you to apologize, my lady. It happened before you were hired there, I should think. Besides, I am of the opinion it did Emelia some good to be away from London for a time.” He screwed up his face a bit. “I still can’t believe she’s only been back in England for... what? Eight weeks? And she’s already betrothed.”
Diana’s eyes widened as she turned to give him a glance. “Don’t you suppose she’s saying the same thing about you?”
Adam blinked and then grinned when he remembered they had only known each other for five days. “Touché,” he murmured. “I still find it hard to believe she’s betrothed to Felix. Are you quite sure?”
Giving him a shrug, Diana nodded. “I’m quite sure.”
He resumed his search for pins as if he were on some sort of prized hunt. Then his hands suddenly stopped in their quest and he glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “Emelia? Betrothed to Fenn?” he questioned again with an arched brow. He let out a bark of laughter. “I rather doubt my father would agree to such a match.” He paused a moment as he pulled two more pins from her bun. “Mum wouldn’t mind a bit. She loves the bloke more than she does me,” he murmured as he slid several fingers back into the now-messy bun, continuing his search for hairpins. He took great delight when the mass finally unwound on its own and fell down past her shoulders.
Watching her reflection in the mirror, Adam speared his fingers through the dark mass, combing it as he watched the charcoal black waves settle onto her satin dressing gown. When he finished, he regarded her as his eyes darkened. “I had no idea it was so silky,” he murmured. “You may find my face pressed into it on the pillow when you awaken in the morning.”
Diana couldn’t help the flare of color that pinked her face just then. She turned around on the vanity chair so she could gaze up at him directly. “I do hope you don’t regret this,” she whispered. “Marrying a... bastard, I mean.”
Frowning, Adam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Never,” he murmured. “You are every bit the lady as any of those who can claim relations to an aristocrat.”
She sighed. “Whatever will we tell the earl and his countess when they ask as to how we met? Your mother has been so gracious. She sent me a ball gown today! I cannot help but think they’ll believe I’m some sort of opportunist—”
One of Adam’s fingers landed on her lips, effectively silencing her. “I wrote to them both this morning to let them know I would be marrying this day,” he whispered. He reached into a pocket in his robe and pulled out a folded piece of vellum. “Here’s the note from my mother. It was delivered whilst we were saying our vows.” He handed it to Diana.
Her eyes wide, Diana realized how it was the countess had known where to send the blue watered silk gown. She slowly unfolded the elegant vellum to reveal a short note written in an even, feminine script.
My dearest son,
Thanks to your visit a few days ago, your happy news hasn’t caught us by surprise. It is good news to me, for I have oft worried you might never settle. We so look forward to the day when you’ll introduce us to your viscountess. Although I am not familiar with her name, and therefore not with her, I trust you have chosen a woman with whom you will have a happy life, the ton be damned. (Yes, I have just written a curse, and no, I will not apologize for it.)
As your life changes, so does mine. Your father has gifted me with the means to pursue an unusual avocation, but one for which I am well suited. Although you cannot speak of it to anyone, I will divulge that I am the new owner and editor of The Tattler. My first issue will release this Thursday. I promise that anything I include about you and your new bride shall be nothing but complimentary. She who controls the news is able to protect her own, after all.
Do have a wonderful honeymoon, and please know that the earl and I wish you all the happy in the world.
Yours very truly,
Mum.
Rather stunned by how amenable the Countess of Aimsley seemed when it came to her oldest son’s marriage, Diana was even more surprised at the news about the countess taking on the duties of owner and editor of The Tattler. Why, Diana had feared for the past few days that news of her afternoon in the company of Viscount Breckinridge—without the benefit of a companion or a maid—might land her on the front page of the gossip rag. Now she had assurances she might never be mentioned.
Although she wouldn’t mind being mentioned as the new wife of Adam Comber, Viscount Breckinridge.
Later that night
A sudden chill had Diana opening her eyes. She stared up at the unfamiliar tufting of her bed’s canopy, the royal blue satin appearing almost gray in the dim light from the room’s only window. She glanced in that direction and realized almost immediately why she felt cold. Adam had left the bed. Silhouetted in the window, he stood staring out, his arms crossed over his chest, his erect cock poking out from its nest of brown curls, and a frown firmly in place on his lips.
Diana slipped from the bed, pulling a bed linen with her to wrap about her torso as she did so. Moving to join him, she glanced out the window in an effort to determine what had his attention. When she saw nothing of note, she turned to gaze up at him, but before she could even put voice to a question, his arm wrapped about her back and pulled her close.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, my sweeting,” he whispered before kissing the top of her head.
“The bed grew cold without you in it,” she countered, her voice clearly pitched to tease. When she noted how he still appeared too serious in the dim light, she felt a bit of panic. This was exactly what she had feared in agreeing to marry the viscount after such a short courtship. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?” she whispered, a sense of melancholy settling over her. After such a wonderful wedding night, she had thought her initial fears unfounded.
Adam pulled her into a hard hug, his hardened manhood pressing into the linen that covered her soft belly. He allowed a groan before kissing her hair, the side of her face and finally her lips. When he pulled away, he left his forehead pressed against hers. “Not in the least,” he murmured in reply. “However, I am bemoaning my promise to my mother.”
Diana frowned. He hadn’t made mention of any promises. And what might the Countess of Aimsley have made her son promise on the occasion of his marriage? “What promise was that?”
Adam straightened and cleared his throat. “She warned me that I shouldn’t be too greedy on my wedding night, or my bride would not welcome me back into her bed. Perhaps for several nights,” he whispered in what sounded like despair.
Blinking, Diana moved a hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. Greedy? She realized right away to what the countess must have meant. She did feel a bit of soreness at the apex of her thighs—a sort of delicious discomfort that would be replaced with heavenly pleasure should they renew their earlier explorations of one another. Besides, the desire she felt for her husband’s attentions more than countered it. “And what if your bride demands that you return to her bed? To continue what you were doing earlier?” She punctuated her questions by sliding the palms of her hands up the front of his body, the pads of her fingers brushing over his nipples so he suddenly hissed.
He took one of those hands in his and brought it to his lips. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
A shiver passed through Diana
, punctuating the excitement she experienced at the thought he might do to her again what he had done earlier. “Of course, I’m sure,” she replied, gripping the hand that held hers and moving toward the bed.
Adam had her lifted into his arms before she had a chance to climb onto the bed, her shriek of surprise followed by a giggle as he settled her down onto the mattress. He covered her body with his. Although he was aware of her legs wrapping around his lower back, he didn’t immediately impale her, choosing instead to use his lips to caress her heated skin from her collarbones to her breasts and then to her nipples.
Diana mewled as he worshipped her with his lips, sucked in a breath when his teeth took purchase on a nipple and gently bit it before his lips suckled it. It wasn’t until she begged for him that he finally impaled her, his own breath briefly robbed as he thrust himself into her wet haven and her chest rose up in response. “Jesus, Diana. If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were born to be an enchantress,” he managed to get out.
Thrilled at his words, Diana smoothed her hands up the sides of his body, her thumbs brushing over his nipples as he pulled out of her. His groan was followed by another thrust, her counter thrust meeting his this time.
Although her mother had never arranged for her to bed a man in order to learn what to do in a marriage bed—Lily preferred her daughters remain virgins in the event they could arrange advantageous marriages based on their ties to their father—Diana was quite sure her mother would have seen to a suitable bedmate if she had requested one. Instead, Lily had described in great detail what happened in a marriage bed, told of the nuances of lovemaking, explained how simple touches and tugs and squeezing could send a man into ecstasy.
Her mother’s instructions suddenly at the forefront of her brain, Diana took delight as she put each one into practice.
Diana reveled in hearing Adam’s breath hitch when she drew a finger down the vein at the back of his engorged cock, grinned when her questing fingertips stroking through his dark curlies had him groaning, and almost laughed as his entire body shivered when her lips took purchase on one of his nipples. She would have continued her exploration of his body, her lips moving to the inside of his elbow to suckle the soft skin there, but Adam had her suddenly on her back, his deep growls a warning she was about to be impaled by the very manhood she had stroked only the moment before.
The Secrets of a Viscount Page 24