To Tempt an Earl

by Kristin Vayden

  "Spoiled with love." Lady Southridge amended with a firm nod and a bright smile. She turned and glanced past Bethanny. "Good heavens! Why didn't anyone tell me I looked such a fright! 'Take the curricle,' he said… my foot," she mumbled

  "Curricle?"

  "Long story. I'll explain later… however, I must say they are indeed fast." A wild light entered her gaze as she fixed her appearance and nodded as she finished.

  "Shall we depart? I believe Bethanny has an appointment with a priest."

  "Indeed I do." Bethanny grinned.

  "Indeed you do, sweet one." Carlotta grinned. "Will you three give us a moment?" she asked.

  "Of course. Girls?" Lady Southridge ushered the girls out of the room and left with a quick wink then closed the door.

  Carlotta took a deep breath.

  Bethanny began to feel slightly uneasy.

  "Sweet one… let us sit for a moment." Carlotta led Bethanny to the chairs situated by the fire.

  "Bethanny, tonight is a very important night, and I want to make sure that you are… prepared." Carlotta visibly swallowed.

  "For… er…" Bethanny blushed painfully, unable to finish the sentence.

  Carlotta cleared her throat. "Yes." She smoothed the already-pressed lines in her skirt.

  "I… may I ask you a question?" Bethanny asked after an awkward moment.

  "That is why I'm here. I'm sure you have quite a few." Carlotta smiled bravely, but it didn't reach her eyes; she was clearly as uncomfortable as Bethanny.

  In fact, the only person she wouldn't be uncomfortable with in addressing this topic was her soon-to-be husband.

  Graham.

  Immediately the tension that had risen within her melted away.

  "Actually… would you think it incredibly foolish of me to simply not ask any questions and discover more about this topic… with my husband?" Bethanny felt her cheeks heat with color in embarrassment.

  Carlotta tilted her head, a grin taking root in her lips and then flourishing in her expression. "Sweet one, I believe that is brilliant. Not," she tilted her chin down and speared Bethanny with a glance, "because I'm uncomfortable with this topic and do not wish to address it with you." She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. "But because I have no doubt that your husband will be far and away the best educator. After all, it is apparent that you trust him deeply."

  Bethanny nodded. "With my life… my heart."

  "Then your body will easily follow. Simply know this. There is no reason to fear, because perfect love casts out all fear. This includes fear of the unknown, fear of inadequacy, fear of inability. Physical love can lay bare every insecurity you possess, yet the perfect love it consummates destroys that fear, because it's there where love was created to be its strongest. And that strength comes from the knowledge that it isn't for the night, it isn't for the next week… it's for a lifetime."

  Bethanny nodded, her heartbeat loud in her ears as she considered Carlotta's words.

  Hid them in her heart to remember at all times.

  "Now." Carlotta stood and held out her hand. "Shall we go and get you married?"

  At last.

  Graham struggled to remain still as he waited at the front of the St. George's chapel. The music had begun; it would be only seconds until—

  Bethanny.

  Resplendent in sky blue silk, she began toward him, her gate graceful yet slightly stilted — much like the way she waltzed.

  Graham would have smiled at the correlation had his heart not been beating furiously or his lungs stopped taking in air at the sight of her. She was beautiful, in every classical way a woman would surely wish to be beautiful for her wedding, but it was deeper, a glow that emanated from within that gave her a heavenly radiance almost too brilliant to behold.

  Her hair was loosely tucked into soft curls that framed her delicate features, the heavy mane simply waiting for him to explore it thoroughly.

  But not yet.

  Graham finally took in air, practically gasping as he felt the burning in his lungs. However, it was the stinging in his eyes that demanded his attention.

  Though he was never one to be overly emotional, he couldn't help himself and the passionate response her very presence provoked.

  The last few steps toward him were torturous, till at last, she placed her dainty hand within his, her eyes alight with tears and joy, with promises and hope.

  The rest of the ceremony was simply a blur. He spoke when prompted, turned when nudged, yet all he saw was the lovely face of the woman becoming his wife.

  As the ceremony came to a close, he couldn't fight it any longer.

  "Before God, let me now present—" the priest began.

  But Graham didn't wait for him to finish his declaration. Rather, he reached forward and pulled Bethanny into his embrace, finding the softness of her lips and filling himself on their flavor. After the initial shock — and slight gasp — Bethanny met his passionate response with an equal one of her own, as if she were just as impatient as he!

  The priest coughed.

  Graham ignored him.

  Rather, he teased Bethanny's lower lip with his tongue, pressing his lean body into her soft one, savoring the sensation and memorizing the fragrance of rosewater as he inhaled her sweetness.

  The priest cleared his throat.

  Twice.

  And it was Bethanny who gentled the kiss and eventually released him, her face blushing a vermillion that only heightened her beauty.

  The cathedral hummed with the amused chuckles of the guests and a few indignant huffs of disgust.

  But Graham didn't care. He already was the source of gossip with his dramatic proposal; this would only add to his legend.

  And he rather liked to think his actions as legendary rather than simply hopelessly romantic.

  Although romantically legendary had a certain ring to it.

  The priest took in a breath as if preparing to speak, but then he shrugged, an amused grin taking over his features. With a gesture to the organist, the music began, and Graham ushered out his bride, squeezing her hand tightly within his.

  And, thank the Lord, he'd never have to let go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Damn the man or woman who decided wedding breakfasts were necessary.

  All Graham could do was pray for mercy as the seconds ticked away with painful, unhurried method. Yet each time he'd glanced at his pocket watch, Bethanny's grip had tightened on his arm. Each time her grip had tightened, he'd glanced back to her and remembered the moment he'd first seen her walking down the aisle toward him.

  She was beautiful, a vision from every dream he had ever been creative or poetic enough to imagine. The beauty of St. George's arched ceilings, the pillars and molded wood seemed ragged against the breathtaking beauty now standing beside him. As she'd walked down the aisle, it was as if his body had revolted against him, not allowing breath into his lungs and his heart pounding so hard its cadence drowned out the organ music.

  The rest was a blur; all he remembered was when she'd said yes.

  And the warm sensation of her hand within his.

  Much like the warmth of her hand placed upon his arm.

  Right now, he wanted that warmth on far more than his arm.

  And, in the seemingly never-ending cycle, he'd reached down for his pocket watch and realized that only two minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked.

  "I do believe it's time to depart," Graham spoke suddenly, interrupting Lord Neville's congratulatory words.

  Bethanny shot him a surprised and slightly panicked expression.

  Hopefully, she was only concerned about his lack of social grace, and not his impatience to begin other… activities.

  Yet, as he remembered their clandestine meeting and the kiss that had scorched his very soul, he was quite certain she was only scandalized at his social skills.

  But he was a desperate man.

  And desperate men didn't hold to convention.

  No, the
y simply didn't give a damn anymore.

  So, with a knowing look from Lord Neville, Graham excused himself and his stuttering bride and made his way out of the entrance of the duke's residence, where the breakfast had been held.

  And God was smiling on them, for behold, his carriage stood waiting.

  "I rather thought your impulsive nature might get the best of you," Clairmont called out behind them.

  "I can't imagine your meaning," Graham shot back as he helped a beaming Bethanny into the carriage.

  "Let's just say I've been in your shoes… and they are hell itself."

  "You do have a heart in there." Graham grinned as he glanced to the duke's chest.

  "So I've been told." Clairmont shrugged. "I don't expect to see you soon." He smirked and turned back to enter the house.

  "Please remind me to thank your guardian profusely… much later." Graham murmured as he gathered his bride into his arms and settled her onto his lap.

  Good Lord, if I thought the breakfast was torture, the carriage ride will be even worse!

  "I'm surprised you lasted this long." Bethanny grinned and leaned down, tracing her tongue along his lips before passionately assaulting him.

  Graham groaned in pleasure as her sweet tongue danced with his, her body shifting slightly to press into his frame.

  Her soft fragrance driving him mad.

  With herculean self-control, Graham continued to kiss her, only kiss her as they made their way to his townhome. Her lips were soft delights that caused the fire of desire to burn and smolder till his self-control held on by a slight thread. Only the knowledge of her innocence held him in check.

  He wanted to be perfect for her, each time, every time, but especially the first.

  The carriage rocked to a halt, and Graham gently set Bethanny from his lap, his body demanding that he return her to the previous position, yet he resisted the urge to ravage her in the carriage and exited, holding out his hand for her to alight as well.

  Then, without warning, he bent and swept her into his arms. Bounding up the stairs, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks when Watkins immediately opened the door and bowed, a knowing grin on his face.

  "We are not to be disturbed," Graham shot over his shoulder as he made his way to the stairs.

  "Of course." Watkins bowed, but Graham only caught the first hint of the gesture; rather, he was focusing on taking the stairs, two at a time, savoring the sweet tingling laughter coming from his wife as she held tightly to his neck.

  She knew she should be scandalized, first with the presumptive and overly passionate kiss interrupting the priest, and then with leaving their own celebration far too early, yet Bethanny couldn't find it within her heart to give a fig.

  Rather, she was lost entirely in the bliss of knowing she was loved by the man who had utterly captured her heart. Graham's strong arms held her tightly as he bounded up the stairs, as if almost afraid to let her go.

  She understood the desperation. It had been too long since they had been afforded any measure of privacy.

  The five minutes the duke had given them over the past two days didn't signify.

  She ached, needed to have him to herself, uninterrupted and unhurried.

  And, thank the good Lord, she was finally able to have that time.

  And it was only the beginning. Because she was his wife, of all the women in the world, only she would carry his last name, his title… his children. Unable to restrain her delight, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his neck. His flesh was scented with a sweet spice that sent her senses to reeling as her body warmed further with desire. She nipped his skin slightly with her teeth, earning a groan of delight mixed with frustration from her husband.

  Husband.

  She'd never get tired of saying it.

  "You will be the death of me," Graham swore as he shifted her weight so he could open the door to his rooms with one hand, while balancing her weight with his other.

  Bethanny raised an eyebrow to show her approval.

  "Love, I appreciate that you are easily impressed… but it's not necessary," Graham teased and carried her over the threshold. Kicking the door closed, he promptly deposited her on the bed, not allowing even a breath of time before his lips covered hers. Gently pressing into her, she reclined on the bed, relishing the intoxicating sensation of her husband's weight atop of her. He teased her lips with his own before darting his tongue along hers, the beautiful expression of give and take that sent her body to humming with a need she didn't understand.

  "I do believe we are finally alone, countess," he whispered along her lips as he moved to nip teasingly at her jawline.

  "Indeed," Bethanny whispered back, arching her neck to give him greater access.

  "I love the curve of your neck. I swear you taste like heaven just here." Graham swirled his tongue just where her shoulder and neck met, causing her to gasp. "I'll remember that." He chuckled and proceeded to nudge the fabric of her dress with his nose. "However, I do believe we must do something about this." He pulled at the fabric with his teeth.

  Bethanny gasped slightly as she glanced down to watch him. His eyes were dark and smoldering embers that promised to set her aflame.

  Though she could have sworn she was already burning.

  Gathering her courage, she ran her hands over his chest and under his coat, loosening it from his frame. "The same could be said of you, my lord." She teased as she tugged on his cravat, loosening it and pulling till the silk was removed from his neck entirely. She tossed it to the floor, not waiting for the soft garment to float downward; rather impatiently, she leaned forward and began to kiss the small opening at the base of his neck.

  "Good Lord, Bethanny," Graham spoke hoarsely.

  She smiled against his skin, savoring the millions of pleasurable sensations all surrounding her, creating a fog of desire.

  "Enough." Graham pulled himself from the bed, his eyes dark with something mysteriously delicious. He made quick work of removing his coat entirely and began on the buttons of his blindingly white shirt. Groaning after impatiently unbuttoning three, he swore under his breath and removed the garment over his head.

  Bethanny gasped.

  His movement had tightened the hardened muscles in his abdomen, causing a rippling effect, which captivated her. He was beautiful. As he tossed the shirt to the floor, his shoulders bunched with the gesture, and her gaze traveled upward, taking in the firm lines of his chest and the smooth texture of his skin.

  When she moved her gaze to meet his, she grinned as he winked at her. "I'm delighted you approve." He smiled, showing off his dimples.

  Bethanny sighed in appreciation.

  "If you've finished enjoying the view, I believe it's my turn," he whispered softly as he lithely stepped toward her, his amber eyes never leaving hers.

  "For?" Bethanny asked, her attention arrested by the way his shoulders swayed when he walked, the way his stomach tensed when she reached out and touched the smooth and firm, warm skin.

  "To enjoy the view." He pulled her from her sitting position on the bed. Without a word, he tugged on the sash behind her, loosening the fabric so that it was no longer tight, but flowing around her waist. At first, he slid each button through with unhurried motions. "I hate buttons." He swore after a moment. "You're never to wear them again," he pleaded impatiently before tugging on the fabric and sending the offending objects scattering along the floor.

  Bethanny shot him an irritated glare. She had rather liked that dress.

  "I'll make up for it, I promise," Graham assured with a wicked grin as he removed her gown from her shoulders and let it pool to the ground in a whisper of silk.

  "Bethanny," he whispered as he bent and kissed her bare shoulder. His breath tickled her flesh all while sending shivers of desire along her body. Silently, he tugged on the strings of her corset, and quicker than her maid had ever accomplished the task, had it loosened enough to be removed.

  "Don't be afraid," he assured her
as she clung to the French-designed garment.

  Taking a deep breath, she raised her arms and allowed Graham to pull it over her head.

  His Adam's apple bobbed as he took in the sight of her, fierce emotion clouding his gaze as he placed a delicate kiss at her heart.

  She lifted her hands and placed them at his head, tugging at his dark hair and exhaling softly as he turned so that his ear was placed against her heart.

  Graham lifted his head and all but attacked her lips, his hands immediately going to her hair, loosening it from its bindings.

  She heard the clatter of pins hitting the floor.

  Joining the buttons.

  However, that was the last coherent thought she was able to pull from her mind as Graham's hands roamed her back, deftly eliminating the remaining clothing that separated them.

  With a grace she'd never be able to attain, Graham had expertly laid her out on the mattress, joining her and warming her, all while overwhelming her senses.

  And as the night wore on, Bethanny discovered all the knowledge she had lacked, and, by far, experience was the best teacher.

  Especially when one's teacher was her husband.

  Graham awoke with the sweet scent of rosewater tickling his senses.

  And his nose.

  Opening his eyes, he turned slightly, only to encounter his wife's unclad form pressed against him in the most provocative manner imaginable.

  And Graham had always had a very active imagination.

  His nose twitched again as he gently brushed away a few strands of her glorious mane that were tickling his face.

  Biting back a groan of desire, he relaxed and simply gazed at his sleeping beauty.

  Heaven knew, after last night she needed her rest.

  He needed his rest.

  After all, no one would disturb them for days, weeks even.

  He might be able to stretch it for a few months, if luck were on his side.

  There was no need to be impatient or hurried.