by May Burnett
“And,” he spoke slowly, not looking away from her eyes for a moment, “are you willing to entrust yourself to me for the experiment? I would, of course, take the greatest possible care, but after all you have already endured, I marvel that you are willing to risk it at all.”
“That first time was short and nasty. It is time I learned how it is done right, when both parties want it. I would prefer not to have another child in nine months, however—or eight and two weeks, as it turned out.”
“Nor should you. There are ways to lessen the chance of conception.”
She nodded. It stood to reason that a rake like Lucian would know all about that, although so should his father have—but no, she would not think of that villain now.
“In that case, no time like the present,” Lucian said, collecting the stones and carelessly dropping them back into their box. “Do you have anything planned for the next few hours?”
Amanda shook her head. Now the children were nursed by someone else, her days were largely unencumbered. “Mattie might miss me at dinner, but it is still hours away. Really, Lucian, in the daytime?”
“Why not? I want to see what I’m doing. Unless you’d prefer to wait until dark?”
“I want you to make me forget all about the light, or even about dinner, if you can.”
“You will regret saying that, wench.” He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, without even breathing hard when he deposited her on the bed and proceeded to lock the door. She expected him to join her on the bed, but he hesitated. “I need to fetch something from my rooms, since we don’t want to get you with child,” he said. “Yet I want to kiss you, now, and once I start, I may not be able to stop. You don’t know how long it has been and how urgently I want you.”
Amanda smiled, pleased at the implication that he had not consorted with others the whole time he had been away. “I can wait a few minutes,” she said, stretching her limbs languorously, like a cat. “Of course, I may fall asleep if you take too long.”
He was back within two minutes, with a small bag he put next to the bed. “Now, where were we?”
“You spoke of kissing,” she reminded him. “Which I take to be the first step only?”
“You will see soon enough.” Lucian stared at her for a long moment, not betraying the urgency he had mentioned earlier except by the intensity in his eyes, which were darker than usual. Just the way he looked at her, like the most delicious and precious object he’d ever come across, made Amanda feel warm all over.
Over the next half hour, she found that he could make her not only warm but also hot and shivery and tingling, with kisses and touches in the most unexpected places. She attempted to reciprocate, clumsily, but he told her that the time for all that would come later. She made a futile attempt to take mental notes, for that later, but within seconds he drove all conscious thought from her mind, reducing Amanda to mere feeling. But what feelings! Her clothes had vanished, and he, too, was nearly naked. How and when had he managed that?
Lucian seemed fascinated with her breasts, which had not taken great damage from her brief period of nursing, but were slightly bigger than they used to be. He lavished care and caresses on her nipples with hands and tongue and lips. Presently, one of his hands wandered downwards.
“You are so wet,” he said before kissing her again, deeply and passionately.
“I cannot help it,” she muttered. Did he have to choose such a moment to carp?
“That is good,” he explained when the kiss ended. “Slickness there means that a woman enjoys lovemaking and is ready for the union with her man. If you were still dry as powder at this point, I’d have to shoot myself.”
“Don’t even suggest it in jest.”
“In some cases, oils are used as a substitute,” he explained. “But enough with the lessons, we can do that later. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
She watched with interest as he slipped something like a thin bag over his big, straining member. “This will prevent me from catching another child?”
“It’s not entirely foolproof, but yes. This will catch my seed, so it will not take root in your womb.”
Moments later, Amanda was once again caught up in the astonishing sensations he could draw from her so easily. For the first time, she had an inkling why someone could become addicted to this, would want to experience it again and again, would miss it if suddenly deprived as in poor Mattie’s case.
“You are adorable, Amanda,” he whispered as he covered her neck and shoulders with kisses, while his fingers were doing something down there . . . to prepare her for his invasion? She had borne children, so her passage would easily accommodate him. There was nothing to be afraid of, only searing pleasure, wave after wave . . .
His stiff member slid in, easily enough. Despite herself, she had feared a repetition of the burning pain she’d felt the first time, and finally she relaxed. So the female body produced the necessary lubrication? Nobody had ever told her about that. Live and learn.
Lucian adjusted the angle as he stroked in and out, first slowly, then faster and faster, breathing hard as though he were running a race. It did not hurt in the least, was even rather agreeable, and clearly gave him enormous pleasure, to judge from the way Lucian completely lost himself in the activity. She liked knowing that she could provide such ecstasy, could excite and satisfy him. And as they were married, it was even her duty and guilt-free for both.
After a few minutes, not more than five or six, Lucian stiffened with a muffled shout. That, she knew, was when the seed spurted into a woman’s body. For a moment, she almost regretted the thin barrier between them that would prevent it from reaching its goal; but it was too soon. Maybe in a year or two she would not mind bearing him a child, now she knew that the experience was survivable.
In the meantime, she’d get him to demonstrate the pleasurable activity every chance she got.
“Forgive me,” he said in a strained voice. “At the end there, I completely lost my composure and control. I must suppose because it is you, different from anyone else. After all my boasts! I am humbled.”
Amanda grinned at his evident chagrin, thrilled that she could so affect him. He had made her lose all sense of time and place, and turnaround was fair play. “But you enjoyed it, Lucian?”
“That you even ask shows how much you still have to learn.”
“Well, tutor, get on with my education then,” she demanded, stroking her palm over his muscled chest. “While we rest a while, you could explain and critique what we have just done.”
His smile was rueful. “Most men need a little respite after love-making. With a young, energetic wife like you, that may not be easy. Some women feel perky and energised afterwards.”
She stretched. “I think I am one of them, and also intensely curious and more than willing to try again as soon as you are rested.”
He groaned. “You’ll be my death yet. No matter, I shall gladly devote my declining years to keeping you happy in bed, Amanda. If I can.”
“You can—you do.” She kissed him, allowing her lips and the tip of her tongue to brush over his the way he had done earlier. “If you’d let me do some of the work, you might not feel so exhausted now.”
“Well, since you offer . . .”
His exhaustion was soon overcome, and they proceeded to lesson two and three before dinnertime. Then they had a small argument—should they get washed and dressed and dine with Mattie, or send their excuses and stay in bed?
Although their sport had given them a healthy appetite, in the end they remained where they were. Real life could wait a while as Amanda discovered for herself why her cousin referred to lovemaking as bliss.
It turned out Mattie had not exaggerated after all.
Chapter 24
Lucian had not been lying to Amanda—making love to his young wife was truly unlike his dalliances with those legions of women he’d bedded in his dissolute past. He was lucky, indeed, that he was still healthy and of sound mind.
Almost certainly he owed his continued vigour to the sheaths he’d consistently employed, since he did not want to sow bastards across the countryside.
He did not blame Amanda for doubting his promises. If one of Lucian’s friends had made similar protestations, his reaction would have been cynical. He’d argue that sooner or later the weight of old habits would overcome the best intentions, no matter how sincerely meant at the time. After he stopped laughing, that is. As a diplomat and man about town, he had acquired a deep appreciation of human frailty and self-deception.
Nonetheless, Lucian rather thought he would be able to remain true to his wife as long as Amanda did not meet some younger man who turned her pretty head. He was not hankering after any other women at present, not even mentally. If the most celebrated beauties in London were to appear on his doorstep, he’d be able to rebuff them without a qualm.
Neither he nor Amanda had made any mawkish declarations of love, as were the fashion amongst the more sentimental middle classes, but there was a mutual affection there, strengthening every day, at least on his side. As for Amanda, if she still despised or resented him, she would not be able to give herself as generously and enthusiastically as she had since that first afternoon tryst. Words might be false, but Lucian was too experienced at the game of love to be mistaken in the language of a woman’s body.
What they were slowly establishing was more than friendship, but he could not find a proper word for it. Marriage was not enough; affection did not quite capture it either. But why worry about putting it in words? They simply were good together, both in and out of bed.
Lucian would have to risk Amanda finding someone else, for he needed to return to town by the end of January at the latest. There were important matters coming up in the House that he could not ignore. At least that Russian business was all finished. Lord Cathcart had already accepted the appointment as the new ambassador the czar’s court. Lucian would not get involved in the mess brewing with the United States, no matter who asked, even if it was the prince regent.
Perhaps in later years, when this interminable war was over and their children grown, he too might accept an embassy in some civilised capital, if Amanda liked the notion. She would make a good diplomatic wife. Despite her current youth and relative inexperience, she had a good head on her shoulders and great resilience. It no longer felt awkward to treat her as an equal or to hear her address him by his given name. In an odd but pleasant way, her doing so made him feel younger, less jaded. Maybe some of Amanda’s virtue was rubbing off on him, though he had his doubts how much would stick. Lucian still considered the great majority of his contemporaries arrant fools, sheep only too eager to present themselves for shearing, and willing to believe the most convenient fairy tale that flattered their vanity and prejudices. As she grew older, Amanda would learn to see that, too.
Soon the babes should be strong enough for the journey to town. They were thriving, but at such a tender age, that could change within hours. At any age, really. Amanda would be unwilling to leave them behind, and Lucian was determined to carry Amanda back to town with him, babes and nurses and companion and all.
He would check on the twins himself and consult the head nurse, to gauge at what point the journey might be feasible.
At first he had regarded the babes as an extension of Amanda, but within days, despite their newness and fragility, he had come to appreciate that Marcus and Mary each had a separate personality and will. When they were older, he would not mind spoiling the little ones, and it would be easy enough to be a better father than the one he’d had. He was less sure that he’d be able to set a good example, but he’d worry about that once they were past the dangerous first twelve months.
Lucian almost regretted that he could not believe in heaven or hell. How his late father would have raged if he knew his title and position was to be taken by a boy with not one drop of Rackington blood! Serve him right . . . Lucian himself did not care a whit. Birth and titles were a lottery. Some were born lucky, and some drew blanks, that was all there was to it.
***
Christmas at Racking was a far more elaborate affair than Amanda was used to. In previous years, Lucian had never been in residence at that time of year, and the servants were excited at having the family in residence for the traditional twelve days of festivities, even if the children were still too tiny to enjoy them.
Despite a newfound taste for love-making that Lucian indulged whenever she sent him as much as a heated look, Amanda did not neglect her twins. She spent an hour with them twice daily, talking and touching them, so they would know and remember her as their mother. Lucian joined her occasionally, and once or twice she even found him visiting the nursery on his own, to the nurses’ surprise.
Now that the children had survived their first month, and grown surprisingly fast for just a few weeks, her fear for their lives was slowly abating. Life was always uncertain, after all. Even an adult like Lucian or herself could sicken and die from one day to the next.
When she announced her plans to attend Christmas Mass in the nearby village church, Lucian looked resigned. “I suppose I’ll have to go with you,” he said. “They will stare at me as though the devil himself had recanted. I hope it will not be too annoying.”
“I could just go with Mattie and Mr. Tennant.”
“No, if you want to go, I’ll accompany you. If a lightning bolt does not strike me dead as I cross the threshold, maybe it will even do me some good.”
“Thank you.” Amanda gave him a small kiss. She was not particularly religious and did not attend church every week, but it felt wrong to ignore major holidays like Christmas and Easter.
“There are a number of customs, the Yule Log, holly, Christmas
pudding, carols . . . we should practice for the time when the children are old enough to enjoy them,” Amanda suggested. “Christmas always was a joyful time in my family.” She smiled so Lucian should not think she was less happy now.
“For me, it has been a solitary occasion in most years, at least since I was sent to school at nine years of age.”
That remark spurred Amanda’s efforts to make Lucian enjoy the holidays for possibly the first time in years. It would not be easy to replace the horrible memories that Racking held for him, but she would give it her best.
“You look happy,” Mattie commented as the two of them were decorating the entrance hall with freshly cut holly and broad bows fashioned from strips of discarded satin curtains. Mattie had deemed the bright red colour too garish for a guest bedroom, but was just right for Christmas decorations. “I will not ask for the reasons, but I have my suspicions. After all the bad things I had heard of your husband, I am agreeably surprised to find him so human and approachable. And the greatest surprise is how devoted he seems to you. I would not have thought it possible, if I did not see the evidence daily with my own eyes.”
“I suspect Lucian can be a formidable and ruthless enemy when he deems it necessary,” Amanda said thoughtfully. “He is wonderful to me but freely admits that his black reputation is not unmerited.”
“Then I recommend that you enjoy this period of harmony while it lasts.”
Amanda frowned. Mattie only echoed her own doubts, but to agree with her would be chicken-hearted and disloyal. She opted to change the subject instead. “Mr. Tennant will arrive tonight. It may be significant that he chose to spend the holidays here with us, rather than with his aged parents and numerous siblings in Chiswick.”
“We should not read anything into that,” Mattie said. “He may simply prefer space and quiet to the noise of a large family and constant questions about his life and plans. In cramped surroundings, such large family gatherings require iron nerve and great patience. Sometimes they even lead to arguments and permanent estrangements.”
“I prefer to believe that he comes to spend Christmas with us because he likes you, Mattie.”
A slight flush infused her cousin’s cheeks, easily visible to Amanda’s sharp eye.
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“I wish you a happy and blissful Christmas, Mattie.”
The blush increased.
Chapter 25
Amanda remembered the old recipe book four days after Christmas, when the assistant cook spilled a kettle full of boiling water on her forearm. There had been a recipe for burns in there . . . to her relief, it proved to be one of the few which did not include animal parts of any kind and was relatively easy to concoct of common plants, oils, and beeswax. She mixed the salve in the kitchen, with the assistance of the frazzled head cook, and offered it to the suffering servant without guarantees, as an old family recipe she wanted to try out.
“That salve of yours worked like a charm, my lady,” the butler reported to Amanda two days later as she was having breakfast with Mattie and Tennant. Lucian had ridden out earlier, to inspect a tenant’s wind-damaged roof. “Essie Jackson will be able to go resume work tomorrow, and best of all, it seems there will be hardly any scarring. Cook is already mixing up another, larger batch of the salve to have ready for similar accidents.”
“Good,” Amanda said. So at least one recipe from the collection was effective. According to the hand-written annotations, so were two of the others. Despite its origin the book was not an intrinsically evil object and could be used for good. She’d pack it in her trunk and take it to London when they moved in late January. Just in case.
“I did not know you were an expert on remedies,” Mattie commented.
Tennant smiled. “Lady Rackington has unsuspected depths. For my part I am not surprised.”
Amanda returned his smile. “Have you fully recovered, Mr. Tennant, after the revels of New Year’s Eve? I wonder what new shocks this year will bring. 1811 was already too full of surprises for my taste.”
“But it ended well for you,” Mattie said, a little wistfully. “You began it as a simple country girl and ended it as a countess, mistress of several establishments, and mother of twins. It must surely remain the most significant year of your entire life.”