Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  “Parkerhouse. I’d like to introduce my wife, Hannah Forster, Lady Gisborn,” Henry said. “Oh, and this is Harold MacDuff,” he added as he indicated the dog.

  The butler, who was dressed quite formally and looked as if he had been on staff at the house for at least fifty years, bowed in her direction. “Countess,” he said by way of acknowledg­ment, not showing the least bit of surprise. “Harold,” he said, affording the dog a nod. “May I take your cloak?”

  Henry gave Hannah a cocked eyebrow, an expression which seemed to say that Parkerhouse was always unflappa­ble. Hannah undid the buttons on her pelisse and allowed the ancient butler to help her out of the coat while Henry gave instructions. “Could you let Mrs. Batey know we’ve arrived? And Mrs. Chambers, too? I believe we’ll have dinner in the smaller dining room. And have the mistress suite readied for my wife.”

  Parkerhouse nodded and shuffled off. Hannah watched him go. “How long has he been in service?” she wondered, taking Henry’s proffered arm. He led her down the long hall to the right, and Harold followed, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  “He was my uncle’s butler and my grandfather’s butler before that,” Henry said with a shrug. Stopping at the first open door on the right, he waved her in. “The parlor, my lady,” he said with a nod. “If you’ll pull the bell, we may get some tea.”

  Hannah glanced around, noting the rich fabrics, the ele­gant furnishings. Despite the exterior looking as if it needed some attention, this room did not. Surfaces gleamed, and the Aubusson carpet was recently cleaned. “Take me on a tour of the whole house,” she suggested, moving to stand before him.

  Henry looked down on her, surprised by her request. “As you wish,” he agreed. Taking her hand, they left the parlor and wandered the halls of Gisborn’s estate home, Henry reciting interesting facts along the way, pointing at various artifacts and explaining their significance. Hannah hung on his every word, determined to learn everything she could about the house. She also noticed very few servants about; a footman or two bowed as they passed, but she saw no maids.

  When they reached his study, the room to the left of the front doors and the last stop on their tour of the main floor, he hurried to leaf through the notes that lay on a silver salver, shaking his head as he did so. “Looks like I chose a good time to be gone,” he murmured. He watched as Hannah slid her fin­gers over the backs of the chairs, gazed at the shelves of books and studied the framed drawings hung on the walls. Harold seemed to understand the significance of the room. He settled himself in front of the hearth.

  “You are an inventor, aren’t you?” Hannah asked rhe­torically, studying one of the drawings that lay unfolded on a library table. It was a detail of the irrigation ditch where the gate would be installed, along with drawings of the gate and tracks in which it would ride when it was installed. It was exactly as he had described it in the Devonville House parlor just a few days ago.

  Moving to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her arms and holding her hands with his, Henry kissed her temple. “I am a farmer, my lady, but I admit to indulging my whims when I think it best for the estate,” he acknowledged, his lips barely touching her ear as he said the words.

  Hannah grinned, turning her head so she could regard him. “Indulging your whims?” she repeated, thinking he meant spending money on luxuries. Although the rooms they had toured were elegant and well-appointed, nothing was done to excess, nor were there expensive objets d’art on display nor were there paintings by masters decorating the walls. Henry dressed well and wore boots that suggested they were custom made, but other than a ruby cravat pin, he didn’t wear jewelry. Hannah glanced at her wedding ring, obviously the signet ring for the earldom. The ring was so large, she had to wear it on her middle finger, and even then, the band was wrapped with a bit of yarn to ensure it stayed put on her finger. “When have you ever done such a thing as indulge your whims?” she won­dered with a teasing grin.

  “When I bought this for you,” he said, pulling a diamond and ruby ring from his pocket and settling it onto her left ring finger, next to where his signet ring already rested. “And when I married you,” he kissed her when she turned around in his arms, obviously surprised by the ring.

  “Henry,” she breathed, holding her hand up before her face as he held her around her waist. “It’s … it’s beautiful,” she said, her tone reverent. She placed her other hand against his face and stood on tiptoes so she could kiss him. Henry pulled her against him, returning the kiss in equal measure.

  At the sound of a throat clearing, the two quickly ended the kiss and turned to the doorway.

  “Dinner is served, my lady, my lord,” Parkerhouse stated in a tone suggesting he hadn’t been aware they were engaged in a kiss.

  Stealing guilty glances at one another, the two made their way to the small dining room and had their first dinner together as Lord and Lady Gisborn.

  Henry found Hannah sleeping in the copper tub, her knees slightly bent and her breasts barely covered by water that had probably been topped with bubbles when she first climbed in. She looks like a mermaid, Henry thought, not quite sure what a mermaid should look like but deciding she was what he would imagine one to be if someone ever brought up the topic.

  He dipped a finger in the water. Still warm. And the tub, a rather large one as it was designed for a man of his size, had plenty of room for him even given the mermaid who occupied it.

  Slowly, Henry stepped into the scented water, making sure one foot was secure on the bottom of the tub before bring­ing his other foot up and into the tub. Hannah’s body moved forward, her head leaning to one side as she dozed. Henry lowered himself behind her, his arms sliding along her back and gently pushing her so her knees bent a bit more. His own legs folded on either side of her body as he lowered himself to sit behind her. Wrapping one hand around her waist, he pulled her body back against his and watched with barely con­tained lust as Hannah’s head lolled onto his chest. The scent of honeysuckle caught in his nostrils. He breathed deeply, the inhalation interrupted when he noticed her bare breasts. Their curves were just above the surface of the bubble-topped water, her rosy nipples beautifully on display. No longer in the warm water, they tightened into ruched buds. Kissable buds.

  At that moment, Henry wanted nothing more than to reach down with his lips and kiss one of those nipples. Or both, really. And ever so slowly pull them into his mouth and suckle each until she was crying with pleasure and wet and ready for him. His cock hardening at the thought, he had to readjust Hannah’s body as it rested against him. She stirred and her head rolled to the other side of his chest, leaving the side of her neck fully exposed. Lowering his lips to the space under her ear, he ever so carefully kissed her. His tongue reached out and captured her earlobe, his lips closing over it to suckle it as lightly as he could manage given his odd position. Hannah’s slight moan spurred him to move his mouth down her neck, his kisses continuing as he sipped and suckled the skin there. In order to kiss the tops of her breasts, though, he would be forced to move her body slightly to one side. One arm cradled her side as he used the other to pull her closer.

  Perhaps his lips came down too hard on the mounded curve of her breast, or perhaps the chill of her breasts being entirely out of the water roused her. Whatever it was, Hannah was suddenly wide awake.

  And had there been anyone else with a bedchamber on the second floor, they would have been as well.

  Henry was reminded of the first time his father took him fishing. There was the sensation of rolling waves lifting and lowering the boat. There was the feel of the fish as it caught his line, the smooth way in which it swam up as he pulled back his rod, the weight of it barely noticeable until the fish broke the surface of the water. Then its tail lashed about, sending a cascade of water over the top of him while the rest of its body undulated uncontrollably, making the fish suddenly so heavy he couldn’t hang on and finally had to let go or be drowned in the effort to take it aboard.

&nb
sp; When the water in the tub evened out, a thoroughly drenched Henry was staring at his very startled wife. She had somehow managed to turn herself completely over so that she was now on her hands and knees in the tub, her shoul­ders, back and rather beautiful, white bottom clearly out of the water. Henry knew at once where her hands were—one was planted firmly on one of his thighs while the other was proving to be rather bothersome in its current location. “My lady, if you do not move this hand,” he wrapped one of his own around her wrist and pulled up a bit to release the pressure on his groin, “I won’t be able to father the children you so desper­ately want, and I apparently need as heirs,” he managed to get out between gritted teeth.

  Gasping, Hannah lifted her hand, but in doing so, lost her balance and pitched forward, one cheek and her breasts col­liding with his rather solid chest, the dusting of crisp hair that covered it now soaked and plastered to his skin. She let out a rather audible “Oof ”. The resulting wave of water from the sud­den movement rebounded from the end of the tub and then lifted and landed her torso farther up onto his body. Capturing her around the waist with one arm, Henry held onto her until the waves subsided. She was about to attempt to push away from his body—he could tell from her startled expression and the way one palm of a hand was pressing against his chest— when he secured her completely by wrapping his other arm beneath her bottom. His still engorged cock, now made even harder as he realized the position into which she had managed to place herself with the help of the water, was pressed firmly against her soft belly.

  “Oh!” she got out, her eyes round as they regarded his face. She then lowered them to take in the sight of his bare chest and his equally bare arms. She dared not lift herself and look between the breasts that were pressed quite firmly into his chest. She might have been a virgin, but Elizabeth had described a man’s member in extreme detail, so even Hannah knew what caused the throbbing sensation she felt pounding against her belly. There was a matching one deep inside her, its throbbing rhythm the same as the one against her belly. The tension in her body left suddenly as she sighed and allowed her body to be buoyed by the water and held in place by his arms.

  “I think I might have enjoyed fishing a great deal more had I known I could catch a mermaid as beautiful as you,” Henry murmured, his voice so husky he barely recognized it.

  If the words suggested he was humored by what had occurred, Hannah could not detect it in his eyes nor in the tone of his voice. And whatever ire she had felt at discovering Henry in her bathtub—well, his bathtub, actually, but her bath water—was quickly replaced with her sudden need to be held by him. “And what does a man do when he catches a mer­maid?” she countered in a whisper, her gaze traveling from the line of slight stubble along his jaw to his lips. Her own lips parted in anticipation.

  “He kisses her senseless, of course,” Henry replied, again with no hint of humor. “And then he dries her off and takes her to a very soft bed and makes love to her until she is completely and thoroughly pleasured.”

  Hannah held her breath. “Oh,” she whispered. “I think I would like to be that mermaid. Can I be … Can I be that mer­maid?” she asked in a voice so alluring, she barely recognized it as her own.

  Henry lips were on hers in an instant, his arms pulling her body farther up his while he allowed his own to slide down the back of the tub a bit. Good God, she is wanton when given the chance, he thought as he slipped his tongue between her lips and teeth. She tasted of mint and smelled of honeysuckle and whatever citrus scent the disappearing bubbles gave off.

  As his hand caressed one of the globes of her bottom, hers were sliding up his chest and out to his shoulders. His other hand moved up the side of her body, his thumb seeking the side of her mounded breast where it pressed against his chest. Barely touching the wet skin there, he was thrilled when he felt her body shudder, her lips pulling away from his for only an instant so that she could gasp. When he had recaptured her lips, he used his other thumb to caress the side of her other breast. He smiled at her similar reaction.

  Everything Henry did felt so wicked, so decadent, so wrong to Hannah, and yet she had to remind herself he was her husband. Did he do this to Sarah? Was she as receptive to his touch, to his kisses? Did she feel these pleasures? Was she wanton or demure or ..?

  Henry moved a hand back to her bottom and attempted to slide a finger between her thighs. Opening her legs a bit— she could if she bent her knees slightly around the tops of his thighs—Hannah cried out as the finger made contact with that rather sensitive spot he had touched the night before. Arching her back in response to the sharp and sudden stab of pleasure, her breasts came off his chest.

  Henry watched, fascinated, as Hannah’s head fell back, her lips parted as the wave of ecstasy gripped her. He was reminded of the first time he had seen her, playing with Har­old in the yard, her head thrown back in delight as the dog licked her neck. Except now, her expression was far more … mature, wanton, perhaps. And her swollen breasts, with their ruched buds, were suddenly at a rather advantageous position with respect to his mouth.

  Circling his finger around the swollen nub of her woman­hood one more time, he placed his lips over one of her breasts and began to suckle and kiss it. A shudder passed under his lips. Sensing how close she must be to her release, he drew the side of his tongue across the nipple while his finger stroked her womanhood one last time before he slid it into the warm, wet sheath. God, she is tight. He wanted desperately to be inside her, his own cock so engorged he was sure it was leaving a mark on her belly where it pressed into her. But he concen­trated on her pleasure, on the cresting wave that was about to break and …

  He felt a great deal of satisfaction as she suddenly tensed and then cried out his name. In another instant, her body went limp and fell down onto his. Even as he held her, as he stroked her back and her arms and gentled her to relax against him, he could feel the trembling of her entire body.

  A moment more and he would need to get them out of the water. Already the ends of his fingers were showing signs of wrinkling, and despite the heated condition of his own body, the water was cooling quickly.

  Not able to push herself up and not necessarily wanting to, Hannah lay with her head resting in the small of Henry’s shoulder. Never could she have imagined the pleasure of a marriage bed … or a bath, rather. No one had described being pleasured in a copper tub, not even Elizabeth. The thing wasn’t truly large enough to accomplish what she was sure Gisborn wanted just then, judging from the throbbing mass squashed into her belly, but surely he would help her out of the tub and onto the bed. She rather doubted she had the strength to do so on her own.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Henry slowly straight­ened in the tub, repositioning Hannah so he could get his legs beneath him and stand up. Once he was out of tub and had a linen wrapped around his middle, he reached down to capture Hannah beneath her arms and pull her up and out of the tub. He grinned as he saw her skin turn to gooseflesh, her nipples tighten into tiny buds. Winding a linen around her shoul­ders and another around her bottom, he reached down and captured her knees in one arm while his other supported her shoulders. Grinning again when he heard her gasp of surprise, he easily carried her to her bed. The downturned linens left a large, white expanse on which to place her still wet body. The soft mattress gave way as they settled onto it.

  Henry leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Hannah responded by opening her mouth a bit and meeting the pres­sure of his lips against hers. She felt his arms press into the mattress on either side of her torso, enclosing her body as the kiss continued. She inhaled the scent of him, a subtle musk that emanated from his entire body, and she breathed in the scent of the citrus soap from their bath. And the kiss! His lips were firm, but he was careful in how he held them against hers, at once tasting hers and pulling away slightly before pushing them against hers again and again.

  When his mouth finally moved away from hers, it was to gently kiss her cheek and neck. “I have w
anted to kiss you like this all night long, Hannah,” he whispered just before his lips took her earlobe into his mouth.

  Hannah gasped at the sensation as his tongue caressed her ear. She was suddenly aware of how her body was responding to his kisses and his touch, sure her breasts had escaped from beneath the bath linen, and if they hadn’t, she wanted them out and in his warm hands.

  A shiver passed through her body as his lips moved to her neck and throat. Arching back, she took a deep breath as his tongue made its way down to the space below her collar­bone, as his lips moved to hover over the swell of her breasts. Her thighs quivered, the heat between them making her very aware of the male that hovered over her. She could think of nothing but giving herself to this man. “Take me, Henry,” she whispered as she gasped for air.

  Chapter 10

  Gisborn and Hannah in the Middle of the Night

  Despite Lady Bostwick’s insistence she would enjoy it, Hannah was still anxious about what was to come. Perhaps these waves of pleasure Henry was inducing were part of what Lady Bostwick had alluded to the week before. Do not be afraid to take whatever pleasure your husband wants to provide you. You will return it ten-fold without doing much more than opening your body to him and giving him an heir.

  Henry lifted his lips from her collarbone and stared at her for only a moment. He placed a hand against her cheek and brushed his thumb over her lower lip, caressing the fullness of it as she wrapped a hand around his wrist and rested another on his shoulder.

  Henry’s bare chest was of more importance to Hannah. She had seen it when it was soaking wet in the tub, but now it glowed in the candlelight, the light dusting of black hair tick­ling her nose and the pads of her fingers as she kissed the area around his nipples. At his sudden gasp, she moved her lips to his upper arms and moved her trembling fingers to play over his back.

  Henry shuddered at the sensations that coursed through his body. She is truly giving herself to me, he realized, his gaze traveling the length of her body before he placed his mouth against one of the round breasts. He suckled the nipple.