To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Adrienne Basso

  He teased her but a moment more, then began to thrust urgently into her, his thighs slapping against her, his lower body meeting hers with a searing impact. Meredith’s arms came around him, her fingers caressing up and down his back till they came to rest at his hips.

  She settled her hands there, digging her fingers into the hard flesh. That seemed to excite him even more, and her breath caught in her lungs as he pushed deeper, pulled back, then plunged again.

  The drive to fulfillment soon became too much to withstand. With each hard penetration, the pressure built until she could think of nothing but release. She followed his lead, matching him thrust for thrust, over and over until the sheer joy of the experience was more than she could endure.

  She begged him to increase the rhythm, gasping and writhing on the mattress, half mad with desire as the fire within her began to spiral out of control. Then finally, blissfully, it broke, and Meredith’s inner muscles convulsed around him. This ecstatic release was so unexpected, so intense, so emotional that tears pooled at the corners of Meredith’s eyes and slid silently down the side of her face, wetting her temples.

  Her eyelids flickered closed as her mind and body drifted, lost in a sea of rapture. Only when Trevor again moved his hips did Meredith realized he was still inside her, thick, hot, and pulsing. She surfaced abruptly from her cloud of sated sexuality and glanced up at his handsome face. Their eyes met and the taut line of his mouth gave way to a wicked, sensual grin.

  Moved by the depths of emotions still swirling inside her, Meredith arched herself blindly against him. It was all the encouragement he needed. He shifted on top of her, pinning her hips to the mattress as he thrust deeply. Her legs tightened around his waist as he drove feverishly harder, and then the tension suddenly snapped and his body began to shudder.

  His head fell forward against her neck. The warm harsh breath of his labored breathing tickled her ear and she smiled. It had been glorious.

  Meredith lay limp beneath Trevor’s solid weight, trying to absorb the completeness of the moment, trying to understand the array of emotions that invaded her. It was such a beautiful experience. She felt as if she glowed from the inside out. Perhaps they had created a child together this night. That might explain why she suddenly felt bound to Trevor deep within her soul as well as her body.

  With a moan, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She snuggled close, folded her arms across his chest; and rested her chin in them. They stared at each other for a long moment, both seemingly at a loss to explain or interpret the meaning of this frantic, savage coupling.

  He reached up and stroked her hair, brushing it away from her forehead. Meredith closed her eyes and tilted her head upon his chest. Listening to his steady heartbeat gave her an odd satisfaction and such a strong sense of being safe and protected that, miraculously, she was able to drift off to sleep.

  Trevor cradled Meredith loosely in his arms and tried to recall if he had ever held a slumbering woman. He did not think he had. He listened to her slow, even breathing and decided he was enjoying the experience. She was warm and comforting to hold, all softness and feminine delight.

  Meredith stirred unexpectedly and adjusted her position. Trevor’s penis, resting inside her body, reacted urgently to this movement by rising with interest. He smiled. Normally an orgasm left him repleted and fulfilled, often sleepy. But not this time.

  He felt oddly rejuvenated by their lovemaking. Consequently, he found he could not stop touching her, stroking her, even while she slept. The strange need to share more of this carnal pleasure with her remained and then grew stronger. With a start of surprise, Trevor admitted he wanted her again, writhing and squirming, crying out in ecstasy. For him.

  He bent his head and lightly kissed her shoulder, then the nape of her neck and the column of her throat. With each kiss he bucked his hips forward. She mumbled, shifted, but did not awaken.

  He was not discouraged. On the sixth thrust Meredith lifted her upper torso off his chest and stared at him in disbelief, her flushed face startled and confused. And heartbreakingly lovely.

  Reaching up, Trevor threaded his hands through the sides of her hair. “Are you too sore?”

  “For what?”

  He placed his hands on her hips to hold her steady and bucked suggestively. “This.”

  “Oh, my. Me, on top?”

  “Are you game?”

  “Is it very naughty?”

  “Positively nasty. And meant only for women with superior sexual skills.”

  “Then teach me.”

  His hands swept up to her breasts, grazing lightly over the nipples that peaked so sweetly for him. She sighed and leaned into him, encouraging the contact. Then he grasped her hips again and shifted her legs until she was pressed against him as close as the position allowed.

  She clutched at his shoulders and stared into his eyes. Her face was a mask of concentration as she tried to find the rhythm that would suit them best. He encouraged her with his lips and hands, helping her gauge the tempo, teaching her how adjust the pressure of her hips so he could gain the deepest entry and bring them the greatest amount of pleasure.

  This time when she started to come she whispered his name. The sound floated through the air and pierced his heart. It seemed to free something that was deep inside him, tight and twisted and hidden from view. The coldness inside him began to melt at the same time the seed burst from his body.

  He reached up and caught Meredith’s hand, spreading her fingers as he threaded his own through hers. As he filled her with his essence he pushed himself that final inch closer, spewing himself at the very entrance to her womb. She collapsed against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He could hear her breath, coming now in little pants.

  Trevor could barely breathe himself, but it was not the physical effects of the moment that had him tied in knots. His head was swimming with a confusing, jumbled mass of revelations and emotions that scared him half to death.

  Meredith sighed blissfully. Unable to resist, Trevor lovingly traced her cheek and jaw, then turned her head so he could touch her lips.

  Good Lord, how was he ever going to survive this?

  Seventeen

  Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, falling across Meredith’s closed eyelids. With a wistful sigh of contentment she nestled her cheek against the soft pillowcase beneath her cheek and tried to ignore the beckoning call of morning.

  For an instant she thought she was dreaming, as the titillating smell of potent male and sexual fulfillment drifted up to her nose. Opening her eyelids a crack, Meredith beheld a most extraordinary sight. The Marquess of Dardington, naked except for a white linen sheet that rode low on his hips, was slumbering contently by her side.

  A swell of emotion tightened deep in her chest. They had shared something monumental in this bed last night, something that went far beyond physical pleasure. Though they had turned to each other again and again during the night, they were not just seeking sexual fulfillment. The connection they had achieved together was almost spiritual in nature.

  He might profess otherwise, yet Meredith felt very strongly that her husband was not emotionally indifferent to her. Though he might try to deny it, his actions both at the theater and during the night proved that one fact undisputedly. Trevor cared about her, worried about her, and was firmly committed to keeping her physically safe and mentally calm.

  Yet she was uncertain if his feelings had developed and matured to the state where they matched her own feelings of love. And that haunted her.

  Easing her head back on the soft pillow, Meredith stayed perfectly still and simply watched him. Trevor’s breathing was deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest a soothing rhythm. She wanted very much to press her cheek to the reassuring strength of that chest, but feared the gesture would wake him.

  In sleep, the chiseled lines of his jaw, straight nose, and sculptured mouth had a peaceful, boyish quality about them. With a blush she remembered the wick
ed things he had done with that mouth and tongue. His hair was mussed, and a golden lock hung over his forehead, yet it hardly detracted from the raw beauty of his face.

  He stirred, then opened his eyes. Meredith held her breath. For a moment the silence between them was strained and horribly uncomfortable. She worried frantically that Trevor would withdraw from her, would hide himself away, would reject all outward signs of affection and love.

  Though she knew she was a strong woman, capable of doing just about anything she set her mind to, Meredith grew fearful. She had made a vow to herself sometime in the early morning hours that she would not abandon the hope that they could one day achieve the type of loving relationship she so desperately wanted.

  Yet as she stared at her beloved’s handsome face, Meredith desperately wondered if she would have the strength to endure if everything reverted back to the way things had been—the neglect, the distance, the formality. How would her heart and spirit ever survive such a blow?

  The marquess gave her a slumbering smile, and her heart turned over. For the first time she noticed the tenderness touching his eyes, tenderness meant for her.

  “Making love in the morning is a singular delight,” he said in a serious tone. “Did you know that, my dear?”

  Meredith moved her leg restlessly against his thigh, discovering the rampant strength of his growing desire. Her interest was more than aroused. “It feels like a joy I would very much like to experience,” she replied, spreading her fingers idly on his chest.

  “Then you shall, my lady.”

  Trevor’s voice was husky with awakening desire. He closed a hand on the nape of her neck, tipped her head back, and kissed her as if he were starving. Meredith turned her body to receive his kiss fully.

  Her senses were alive to his touch, his nearness, the solid warmth of his bare flesh. His hands raced over her as if he were greedy for the touch of her skin. Meredith felt ensnared in his mesmerizing sensuality, a willing prisoner of his insatiable appetite.

  There was nothing delicate or gentle about his lovemaking. He lifted and pulled, thrusting into her mercilessly, pounding her tender flesh, giving her all she could take. It was raw and real and honest, exactly what Meredith craved.

  When the last pulse ripped through them, they collapsed against each other, sweating, breathless, and utterly satisfied. In the cozy aftermath, Trevor kissed her shoulder and neck tenderly, then curled himself around her, his chest to her back. Meredith stifled a yawn.

  “I have ridden you hard, love.” He clenched his teeth gently over her earlobe and she shivered. “Close your eyes and rest for a few minutes. You have earned it.”

  The wicked delight in his voice made her smile. She wiggled her bottom suggestively against his groin and he moaned mockingly. “Sleep,” he commanded.

  She nestled closer and clasped the hand he had placed across her waist tighter against her middle. Trevor pulled one of the blankets over them, wrapping them together in a private, warm cocoon. Meredith sighed with contentment and allowed her eyes to drift shut.

  When she awoke the second time, she was alone and in her own bed. Trevor had obviously carried her here, yet she had been sleeping so soundly she had not noticed. Meredith stretched, then sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed, wincing a little at the soreness. Though it was a decadent indulgence at this hour of the day, Meredith rang for her maid and requested a bath be prepared.

  She soaked languidly in the hot water, letting it soothe her sore muscles. Rose bustled about the room, her head buried in the wardrobe as she selected Meredith’s clothes for the day. Since it was already past noon, a more sedate afternoon gown had been decided upon by the two women.

  Rose had just finished fastening the many buttons down the back of the dress when the marquess sauntered casually into the room. He was dressed for riding and even carried a crop in his left hand. Meredith assumed he had just returned, though he appeared to be wearing a freshly tied cravat and neatly pressed coat.

  His gaze swiftly scanned her from head to toe. Blushing, she sat at her dressing table so Rose could arrange her hair, still reeling from the shock of seeing her husband in her chamber. The moment Meredith was settled he moved in, leaned over, and brushed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

  “You’ve had a bath,” he said, his deep whisper tickling her ear.

  Meredith’s brow lifted in surprise. How had he known? The tub was shielded by a decorated screen, hidden from view. Then she inhaled a deep breath and realized the chamber still carried the floral scent of the steaming water.

  “I have just finished bathing. I imagine the water is still warm, if you would like to enjoy it. Or I could order some fresh water to be heated for you.” But only if you allow me to wash you.

  Those wicked words were not spoken aloud, but formed in her thoughts. Meredith caught her breath at the erotic images that invaded her mind. She could easily picture Trevor naked, sliding into the steamy water of his bath. Next she saw herself massaging him, as she had last night at the theater. However, this time his flesh would be bare and she would be able to touch far more than his shoulders.

  She would not use a cloth, but her hands, lathering them until they were soapy and slick. Then, slowly, teasingly, she would circle his upper torso until his muscles were straining, his back arching in desire.

  His movements would cause the water to slosh up the sides of the tub. Fearing her lovely gown might be ruined, Meredith would next carefully peel down the bodice and her chemise, baring herself to the waist.

  She would then lean into his strong back and wrap her arms about him, pressing her naked breasts against his wet warmth. Her hands could now easily reach across to the front of his chest, soaping the golden hair and rinsing it clean. She would cleanse him a second time, paying special attention to the sensitive peaks of his nipples.

  Her questing fingers would then move downward to his waist. Such a delightful position would place her hands in a most interesting location—directly in front of his penis.

  Teasingly, she would dip her hands beneath the water, heading straight for that irresistible prize. Boldly she would encircle the shaft of his penis, running it through her fist. Up and down, up and down, stroking and squeezing until it grew larger, harder, hotter. She would make certain to manipulate the sensitive tip, just as he had taught her last night, brushing across that delicate part of his beautiful male anatomy until his hips were thrusting strenuously against her hand.

  The surge of pleasure at this forbidden fantasy was so intense Meredith squirmed in her chair. Trevor lifted a puzzled brow and she nearly fainted from embarrassment. Though he certainly could not read her mind, it felt as though he were privy to her most secret thoughts.

  “Do you have any special plans for the afternoon?” Trevor inquired.

  “I was going to call on Harriet and Elizabeth and Mrs. Danvers if there was time, but have decided instead to write a note of regret for not visiting.” Meredith sighed daintily. “I find I am rather tired.”

  “You should probably take a nap.”

  “A nap?” Rose snorted with amazement. “ ’Tis well past noon, and her ladyship just got out of bed.”

  In the mirror, Meredith saw Rose lower her head as the marquess gave the servant a censuring stare. “I believe I shall finish arranging my own hair. Thank you, Rose.”

  “But I always do it for you,” the maid replied.

  “Since I will remain in the house for the day, there is no need for your special skills.” Meredith patted the maid gently on the arm, then turned her back in a dismissive gesture.

  With obvious reluctance, Rose put down the hairbrush. “As you wish, my lady.” She gave Meredith a brief curtsy, then turned and began to pick up the wet towels that had been left on the floor, the evening gown Meredith had worn the previous night, and several gowns that needed mending.

  When Meredith saw the servant reaching for a second pile of garments, she spoke again. “Rose?”

  The maid sighed au
dibly, gave a curt nod to indicate she understood, and then disappeared. Once she was alone with her husband, Meredith turned back to her mirror and attempted to finish arranging her hair.

  Trevor watched her every move from a comfortable chair, his eyes reflecting such alert interest she blushed. Her hands were a bit clumsy as she groped for the pins, but they managed to do a respectable job of twisting and securing her blond tresses.

  “I believe I prefer your hair unbound, falling over your shoulders and cascading down your back,” he said lightly.

  “Now you tell me.” Meredith swiveled around to face him and smiled.

  He returned her smile, and she felt that now familiar sensation of sexual desire begin to tingle along her nerve endings.

  “You said you will stay at home for the remainder of the day, but what of this evening?”

  “I have accepted an invitation from Mrs. Morten,” Meredith replied. “She is hosting a late supper and then a trip to Vauxhall Gardens for dancing and fireworks to support her favorite charity.”

  Trevor grimaced. “How many are in the party?”

  “I am not certain.” Meredith frowned. “I imagine fifty or so, including both of my brothers. Miss Elizabeth Sainthill has promised to be there, so naturally Jason will want to attend.”

  “The gardens are a very public place. The gravel paths are numerous and secluded,” Trevor commented. “They can be especially dangerous at night if one encounters an unsavory character. Frankly, I am not comfortable with the notion of you going there.”

  “Because of what happened last night?” she asked quietly.

  They had not spoken again of the incident at the theater until this moment, but Meredith could tell by the flash of awareness in Trevor’s eyes that it was still very much on his mind.

  The marquess grimaced. “I do not wish to unduly alarm you, but I believe it was more than a mere accident.” He leaned back in the chair and paused, seeming to choose his next words most carefully. “I think someone deliberately took advantage of the mayhem at the theater with the intent of doing you grievous harm. We were most fortunate I was close enough to prevent it. My greatest fear is that we shall not be as lucky the next time.”