by Amelia Hart
His hand cupped her, shaped her, and she took a deep breath. Oh, even when she was terrified, still the power of his touch was incredible. She blinked, and recalled her goal. What next? Should she lift her skirt?
But some barrier was broken within him, and suddenly his arms were around her, and he was kissing her, his hands urgent on her body. It was not she who lifted her skirt, but he, and he dragged her to the carpeted floor, holding her mercilessly. She was beneath him, his hips between her thighs, her breasts crushed against his waistcoat, her skirt bunched at her waist, and it was so quick, so hungry and reckless she could barely think. But yes, she wanted him like this, here, uncontrolled and ravenous.
"You will not take other lovers," he demanded.
"Not while you are here."
"Never! Do you hear me? Never."
"If I am happy with you, then of course I will not," she said quietly, and he reared back to look at her.
"Damn you," he said softly.
Then his fingers touched her intimately, confident in their mastery, and her eyes slid closed as she moaned under the onslaught.
"No one but me. Say it."
"Only you . . . for now. For as long as . . . you are here."
"God damn you, Elizabeth! You are mine!"
"Only if you please me. Only if you . . . care for me." It was almost impossible to speak when he touched her like that, so waves of ecstasy swept through her body. But this was so important.
"I won't stand for it."
"So don't. Stay here with me. Be with me like this. Just a few weeks. Service me."
"The estate needs me," he said, but his hand was at the front of his breeches, and he was freeing his body, that part of him that was so hard, so eager for her.
"It can wait," she said, and there he was, urgent and insistent at the entrance to her. She set her heels under his buttocks and urged him in. He forged his way, reshaped her to fit around him, and she shuddered, wanting to writhe and shriek and strive for more.
"God. Elizabeth." His breath was harsh and hot against her neck. She shifted her hips and he withdrew in slow suspense and then plunged back into her. They both groaned.
He shoved his hands under the globes of her bottom and cradled her, cushioning her from the driving rhythm he set. Her arms were constricted by her sleeves, but she pulled him in close, found a way beneath layers of cloth at his waistband so she could lay one palm on the bare skin of his lower back, and feel the flex and thrust of muscle. There was glorious masculine potency to him, servicing her as she had dared him, and pleasure racked her, tension spiraling in and upwards until the cord to sanity snapped and she stiffened and cried out, white light and bliss behind her eyes.
He was there with her a moment later, so deep there was no dividing them, with a shudder and a soft curse on his lips.
Then he propped himself on his elbows, his weight still pinning her to the floor.
"Incorrigible minx," he said.
She was still breathing too fast for dignity, but she raised her chin in cool defiance. "I don't know what you mean."
He bent his head to kiss her, then held her lower lip between his teeth and bit her gently. "You play with fire."
"I think it's best we are open about our intentions."
"Don't pretend that. You'll get burned. Or do you really mean to cuckold me?"
"I-" But his expression was grimly implacable, and she sighed. "I have no reason to if I'm satisfied."
"I cannot be what you want of me."
"Give me a month. One month, like this, where we do this," she gestured at their joined bodies, "whenever we like. We go out in the evening and you do as you said you would, and tell me all you know of the beau monde. Be my friend. Be my lover. And when you go back to the estate I'll go with you and I will be-"
"What? Less demanding?"
"I'm not sure I will be much less demanding-"
"Less meddlesome?"
"I'm not truly meddlesome. Not when you think how I could have been if I-"
"Less noticeable? With your flimsy dresses cut down to here-" he stroked a line just above her nipple, then paused and blinked. A moment later his mouth was on that pink circle and there was silence in the room. Her hips lifted and she wound her fingers through his silky hair.
"Heavens,” she murmured. “I can't even think when you do that to me."
"I can't think when I do that to you. What were we saying?"
"You're agreeing to take a month to be with me."
"A month is too long. I can take a week-"
"A month. That is the rest of the season. Or I'll have to start searching for that lover."
"You imagine I believe that nonsense? You're not a woman who-"
"Don't take me for granted. I deserve a hundred times better than what you've given me so far. But I'll forgive you, I'll even be faithful," she said, calmly demure, "if you agree to the whole month."
"Two weeks."
"This is not a negotiation. I have stated my terms. You will agree. Or you will bear the consequences."
She could see he was amused, and no wonder. It was new to her, to hold her ground with anyone but a sibling. But she was a countess now. She must learn.
"Bear the consequences," he repeated musingly, with a faint smile on his face, the barest hint of mockery. He crouched back onto his haunches, rearranged his clothing. "You terrify me."
"Good. Be terrified." She rolled over, came to her knees facing away from him, and tried to pull her bodice into order. It was more difficult than she had hoped. Then she felt his fingers on the back of her dress. He drew it higher, straightened it, then began to tighten the laces of her stays; such a strangely intimate thing for a man to do.
When he had finished he lifted the strands of hair that had escaped from her mangled coiffure and fallen on her shoulders, and tugged them lightly. "I can't do this, though."
"I'll go upstairs and have Kirkland fix it. Do we have a bargain?"
"Two weeks. As to the rest, I make no promises."
She turned to him. His waistcoat was slightly askew. She adjusted it and he stood quiet under her ministrations. When she had finished she said, "Then I can make no promises either," and walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
He was the perfect escort.
A hundred times better than Michael Seton. A thousand times. He did not fawn all over her as Michael had done, nor whisper fervent and overblown compliments Actually, she could perhaps have done with one or two compliments. She had to make do with the faint smile he wore when he saw her, or that slightly predatory curl of lip that signaled he was about to drag her off to some private place and be amazingly indecorous.
How had she ever thought him proper or straight-laced? He was nothing of the sort.
No, his perfection lay in how she felt when she was with him; always on the verge of something wonderful, and sometimes in that moment. Like when she turned her head at the opera, and saw he was gazing at her, not the stage, and he did not glance away but only smiled and held that look.
Or when they walked in the park and he laid his hand on her fingers, tucked in the crook of his arm, and squeezed them, then left his hand there covering them while they talked about horse riding and farming and the carriages nearby and the people in them.
Or at the dinner where he somehow contrived to sit next to her rather than whichever seat his hostess must have chosen for him, then served her with perfect recall of everything she liked most. Not because she had said it aloud. Oh no. He must have watched and seen - at other dinners - what she ate greedily with scant attention for her table companions, and what she only poked at or left half-eaten.
Or at the ball where he danced three dances straight with her, and then talked for an hour, then fetched her supper, then danced again, and never seemed to realize they had monopolized each other the entire evening and ignored everyone else. The most appalling manners, and the most delightful.
He suggested they go shopping together, and she warily
agreed, thinking it was the last thing she could imagine him enjoying. Yet he turned out to be a very pleasant companion there, ready to point things out to her or nod and smile as she picked things up or pulled things down to show him. He even bought her a pair of diamond earbobs, though she told him there was no need. Yet he insisted. They were not particularly large or extravagant, but they seemed ideal to her, and even more gratifying since she knew every penny he spent was weighed against what it might buy to improve the farms, and their future prosperity.
For a moment it made her think of that sapphire necklace, sitting in her jewel case. She should call on his mother, and thank her for the gift. They had completely ignored his mother, in fact. Shocking, but then her attention had been on other things. She suggested to him that they go together, but he was reluctant.
"Why don't you want to see her?" she asked.
"If you knew her better, you would understand."
"Understand what?"
"She is not a pleasant companion. Perfectly polite, of course. But very cool. I prefer not to interfere with her, and she does me the same favor."
"I thought you saw her often. She was always with you when we first met."
"She was determined to see me properly married. Overseeing me, to make sure I did not turn tail and flee."
"Was that so likely?"
"I was hardly stable. I was not to be relied upon."
"You were often absent, even when you had said you'd attend. I noticed it myself."
"It was difficult to summon the will for it. The whole thing seemed so false."
"Yes. I expect it did," she said, and looked down at the hands folded in her lap.
"The only bright spot was out conversations."
"It was?"
"You are so light and warm, like a sunbeam. You made me smile when enjoyment was the last thing on my mind."
"Oh," she said softly.
"That's why I picked you, in fact. My mother was steering me about the room, introducing me to heiresses one after the next so they all blended in together. Young women all prinked and prettied up and dressed in their pastels and white until I could not even remember their names. It was all a blur. Then you told me you would cry into your teacup if you could never go to another ball, with such an unstudied, playful air, and I thought she is real. It's a rare thing, in this world. I told my mother I was done. I had chosen, it would be you, and I would not consider another. She was satisfied with your portion, and I had you to look forward to."
"Did you? Look forward to me, I mean? To our marriage?"
"No. I'm sorry, but not truly. Not then. I couldn't, not with everything that was in my heart."
She could understand that. It still hurt, to think his emotions had been so different from what she hoped in those exciting days. Still, she knew his burden had been enormous. Her stomach should not twist up all tight, and her throat become sore, to think of his reluctance.
Her poor earl.
"So she forced you to marry?"
"No, of course not. Only reminded me what was necessary. The choice was always mine."
Yet now he did not want to see his mother. Was that the normal state of things between them, or his resentment at her for thrusting him into a marriage he did not want? Truly she could not imagine anyone forcing Chris into something against his will. He was so unyielding. Only look how sternly he resisted her, despite her pleas and his obvious desire for her. But perhaps a mother held more power than a wife. She would visit Mrs Alexander and find out, if possible.
More than that, she would ask her about Sophia.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Elizabeth sipped her tea slowly, grateful for a chance to pause and collect her thoughts. She must be very careful and formal; and indirect, also. She could not come to grips with Mrs Alexander. The woman was not one for plain speaking, and Elizabeth was not usually one for subterfuge. This must be done with great care.
It was time to know more about Sophia. Time to find out anything that might help drag her husband from the murk of self-loathing. He had set it away from him for now, for this interlude with her. Yet always she felt the threat hovering, that he would sink back into that state of mind and withdraw from her again.
Mrs Alexander stared down into her own cup. She was very stiff and upright. Elizabeth had the strong impression she would have preferred never to have to entertain her merchant daughter-in-law.
Elizabeth lowered her teacup. "It has been such a pleasure to learn more of your son. Such a noble nature. I admire him so much."
Mrs Alexander examined her with narrowed eyes, a polite, empty smile on her mouth. "Yes. He was certainly an excellent catch. I'm sure your family are very pleased."
"I'm sure as they know him better they will come to care for him as I have."
"No doubt." Her lips curled in the most subtle sneer of disbelief.
Still, Elizabeth was determined to ignore all provocation. The woman was hardly alone in her contempt for social climbers. "I'm interested to know how you instilled in him such a desire to help the common man."
"Oh, that was nothing to do with me. His father had some very peculiar, egalitarian ideas. I never subscribed to them."
"They have certainly flourished in Christopher."
"Yes. He's very political. Though I haven't heard so much from him these past months. Perhaps you've had a calming influence."
"It's true he's been very distracted from what I think has usually occupied him. He has such a vision for how he will rebuild the family fortunes. He spends virtually all his time on it."
"I'm sure you will be very pleased about that. Ever more wealth to enjoy."
"I think it will be beneficial to us all," said Elizabeth delicately. She had seen that the drawing room, while in good order, had not been decorated for more than a decade. Mrs Alexander's dress was fashionable but not made of expensive stuff, and the butler was very, very old. He should have been pensioned off a long time ago, and replaced with a younger man.
Mrs Alexander was short on funds, she was almost certain of it.
Elizabeth took another sip of tea. "I think all branches of a great family should be well-supported. Then they may keep their dignity in a way that reflects well on the whole family."
"Do you really think so? That is an interesting perspective. I concluded you felt the opposite, given Christopher's-" She broke off, and breathed hard through flared nostrils.
Elizabeth examined her motherin-law's closed face. Had indignation nearly carried the woman to an indiscretion? What had Christopher done, that Mrs Alexander assumed was Elizabeth's fault?
"Certainly he's curtailed all unnecessary spending in our household, while he invests the money in the land," she said cautiously. Had he refused to send any of Elizabeth's hard-won dowry on to his mother? "He tells me with two, maybe three years, not only will the debts be paid in full but the estate will be almost as productive as in his grandfather's time. Of course there is more infrastructure to be put in place for further gains, but all difficulty will be past. Naturally," she set her cup and saucer on the side table and examined the small plate of tea cakes, "I would not usually speak of such venial things. Money is so vulgar. But of course when you have such a vested interest I think information is a valuable thing."
She selected a cake, and as she bit into it she darted a glance at Mrs Alexander. The woman was completely attentive and still, hanging on her words. Elizabeth looked away again, out of the window to the gray buildings and sky beyond, and spoke casually. "It is to be expected Lord Carhampton's prosperity will flow from him to every retainer and relative who has shown their friendship and natural affection to him. He is so very dutiful. And I would always encourage his generosity. I can think of nothing more important than the bonds of family. Nor of filial duty." She took another delicate bite and chewed ruminatively, leaving silence for Mrs Alexander to digest her words.
"It is such an interesting time for us all," Mrs Alexander said carefully. Was her tone warmer? "S
o many changes within the family."
"And such times can easily set a person off balance, and lead them to behave in ways that are uncharacteristic. Yet with leisure to think the matter through, I'm sure every person of good sense will concede the importance of harmony."
"Harmony. Yes. Yes indeed." Definitely warmer. Almost cordial.
"For of course as a family draws together,” Elizabeth said, “as it unites in common cause, it can only grow stronger."
"Yes. I agree."
There. Elizabeth had her agreement. Harmony and family union, in exchange for financial support once the estate was on a solid footing. With luck she could talk Christopher around to fulfilling her end of the bargain. Now to extract the information she needed.
"I think the hardest change has been for Christopher, of course. His fiancée’s death hit him hard."
"How do you-I'm surprised he spoke of that to you. I would not have advised it."
"It must be very difficult to keep silent about such a loss."
"Not so great a loss as all that," said Mrs Alexander.
"But his fiancée. It was a tragedy-"
"For her family, no doubt. Her mother was distraught. As for Christopher, any pain he felt must naturally be weighed against greater concerns. He had many responsibilities. She could not have assisted him with them. Even you have more-"
There was a short, slightly awkward silence.
"I may not be the ideal political or noble wife, it's true," said Elizabeth calmly. "But I am dedicated to helping Christopher any way I am able."
Mrs Alexander sniffed dismissively, but said nothing.
"When I said it was a tragedy, I was not thinking of material concerns. More of his feelings. I can only imagine what it is like to lose the passion of one's life-"
"Passion? She was no such thing. One might have thought so - given his stubbornness over it. Yet I never saw anything more than brotherly affection in his treatment of her."
"Truly?"