by Sandra Owens
After dinner, they retired to the drawing room and spent time with the twins before Chase sent them to bed. Claire and Lady Anne were engaged in a spirited debate over their favorite books when Bensey crept into the room and went to Chase, whispering in his father’s ear.
Chase’s eyes grew wide. “Are you bamming me?”
Bensey shook his head. “No, Father.”
Chase stood and bowed. “Continue on with your visit, my ladies. I must see to Harry.”
“Is he all right, Kensington?” Lady Anne asked. “Do you need our assistance?”
Chase and Bensey burst into laughter. “Ah…no Mama, that won’t be necessary.” They left the room, the sound of their mirth trailing behind them.
“Are you as curious as I?” Lady Anne asked.
“I am. At least we know Harry isn’t hurt or they wouldn’t be laughing.”
“True. I’m tempted to follow them to see what is afoot. However, as a mother of two boys, I can say with experience that sometimes ignorance is bliss. I remember one time when Kensington and Robert were small and decided they wanted to be Highlanders.
“I had read them a story the night before about a young Scottish boy setting out alone to prove he was a man. I should have known better. They decided it would be great fun to follow the boy’s example, so they packed a food basket, strapped on their toy swords and set off to conquer the world. Kensington was nine and Robert, six.
“By the time we found them the following day, they had managed to travel three miles from home. They lost their clothes…we never did get to the bottom of that story, had gotten into a patch of nettles and had a rash from head to toe. They had apparently finished off their supply of food shortly after setting off on their adventure and were hungry.
“Somehow, they did manage to hold on to their toy swords. You must picture it, Claire. Two filthy, naked boys with red skin holding on for dear life to their little swords. I didn’t know whether to beat them to death or hug them to death.”
“So, you hugged them,” Claire said, grinning. This was a story of Chase as a little boy she would treasure.
“So, I did. It was weeks before I could bear to let them out of my sight again. And just when I thought they had learned their lesson, they would invent new ways to torture their poor mother. The two kept me on my toes, they did,” she said fondly.
Would there ever come a day when she would have her own little boy stories to tell? Claire tried not to think of Andrew and the adventures he would never have. She was grateful when Chase returned and diverted her thoughts. He had a lopsided smile on his face, and she could picture him as a little boy up to no good with the same silly grin.
“Well, Kensington? We are near expired with curiosity, Claire and I. Do tell what trouble Harry got up to.”
Chase turned and closed the door. Crossing the room, he took his preferred chair near Claire. His mother was going to love this story. “First, I must have your promise you will not even hint to Harry that I have told you. Not only would he never forgive me, but he wouldn’t be able to look you in the face again. Perhaps when he is forty we will be able to drag the story out and have a good laugh with him.”
Both women gave him their solemn promise. “I’m not sure how to tell you. It would be much easier to speak of it if you were men.” He stared off trying to think of words he could use that would not offend them.
Lady Anne frowned. “Good lord, Kensington, just say it. Pretend you’re talking to Aubrey, if you must, but get on with it.”
“Very well, it’s like this. My pardon, but there’s no other way to say this. Apparently, Harry has always wanted to go in a bottle.” They gave him blank looks. He sighed. They were going to make him say it. “Urinate,” he said, though if he had truly been telling Aubrey, his word would have been cruder.
Their mouths opened in perfect little O’s at this announcement and both moved closer to the edge of their seat. Chase shrugged. “It’s perfectly understandable. Well, perhaps not to a woman, but to any man. Why not want to try such a thing when you are a nine-year-old boy? Anyway, he found an empty bottle and—” He struggled not to laugh as he wondered if their eyes could grow any wider.
“And?” his mother said.
“And, he got stuck.”
Their expressions, so alike a moment ago, veered in two different directions. His mother understood immediately and her lips quivered in an effort to keep a straight face. Claire showed nothing but puzzlement.
“His little boy part got stuck, Claire.”
He counted to five before understanding crossed her face. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t stop a noise that sounded half snort, half giggle.
His mother lost her battle for control then and fell into a fit of laughter. Claire reached over and pulled a small pillow up, burying her face in it. Her shoulders shook and Chase would wager his entire fortune she wasn’t crying.
“However did you...you know?” his mother asked between gasps.
“You’d be amazed at the many uses for duck grease.”
That did it. His mother and, hopefully, future wife fell into each other’s arms in the grandest fit of hilarity he had ever witnessed.
Poor Harry, to be the brunt of such feminine amusement.
Chapter Seventeen
Claire couldn’t stop thinking about the laughter. She had never had any in her life, not as a young girl living with her parents, and not as a wife. She hadn’t known she should wish for it, but now she did. Laughter felt good, it made her happy.
She turned over, fluffed her pillow and tried to go to sleep. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the family who laughed so easily. She added Lady Anne to her list of Warrens she coveted. If she was fortunate enough to meet Chase’s brother and sisters, she would probably want them, too.
What a greedy girl she was becoming.
She huffed an exasperated breath. It was no use, she was wide-awake. Maybe a glass of wine would help. Barefoot, Claire made her way to the dining room and poured a wine into a goblet, then walked out to the courtyard. Chase sat on the wall where she’d seen him the first night. No need to try and fool herself. She’d hoped he would be here.
He lifted his brandy and saluted her. Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she approached, stopping a few inches from his knees.
“Hello, Claire,” he said, his voice soft and intimate. “Have you come for another kiss?”
Yes, that and more. “I couldn’t sleep.” She lifted her glass. “I thought a little wine might help.”
He wore the same clothing as before—a shirt and breeches. She glanced at his bare feet, almost dropped to her knees so she could slide her hands over them. Would they be firm and leathery or soft like hers?
“Claire?”
She jerked her gaze up. “Yes?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
What question? A small half smile appeared on his face, just enough to reveal his dimple. The butterflies living in her belly went into a frenzy, and she swayed toward him. He took the glass from her, setting it on the wall next to his brandy. Taking her hands, he placed them on his knees. It was so wickedly intimate to be resting her palms on his legs.
“Have you forgotten my question?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yes.”
“I asked if you have come for another kiss.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He spread his legs apart. “Come here then.”
Thank you, she wanted to say, but it seemed silly to say such a thing. She stepped forward, entering into the embrace of his body. Heat enveloped her as muscled arms wrapped around her. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heart pound. It pleased her to know it beat rapidly because of her.
His hands moved over her back as she snuggled further into him. He curled her hair around his hand, gently pulled her face away from his chest and stared down at her with eyes the blue of an agitated ocean, dark and stormy.
“Claire,” he murmured and lowered his head.
His mouth moved over hers in a playful tease. Her tongue slipped out and licked his bottom lip, wanting to taste him. He growled and the teasing turned into a kiss so deeply carnal that her legs lost their ability to support her. His arm tightened around her back, the only thing holding her up.
He broke the kiss and eased off the wall, picked her up and carried her to a lounge partially hidden by several tall potted plants. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in this neck. The scent of bergamot, milled soap and the male musk that was him drugged her senses. No words had been spoken between them since he had whispered her name, but none seemed needed to name this want growing inside her. Did he feel it, too?
For tonight, he would belong to her.
He would still take her to London, but it no longer mattered. He was hers and she was going to keep him. If it took weeks of gentlemen dancing attendance to prove to him she was his—always and forever—then so be it. If that was what he needed to trust in her love, then she wouldn’t deny him.
Still holding her, he lowered himself onto the lounge, arranging her to his satisfaction. When he was done, she sat between his legs with her back against his chest. She leaned forward and peered over her shoulder. “I will offer you a trade. I’ll remove my dressing gown if you will remove your shirt.”
Before she could twice blink, his shirt was gone, tossed away to land across one of the potted plants. She smiled her approval and bent her head to unbutton her dressing gown.
“No, allow me.”
His arms came around her and he expertly unbuttoned her dressing gown. If he did nothing but sit behind her all night so she felt his warm breath on her neck as he held her, she would be happy. The way he nestled his head against hers so their cheeks touched made it easy to pretend he loved her.
Maybe the day would come when he did, but if not, she would cherish the memory of being with him.
“Sit up.”
The rumble of his voice in her ear sent shivers down her back. Claire moved away to give him room to slide the gown down her arms, lifting her bottom so he could pull it down her legs. He tossed it away, and it landed half over his shirt. She whimsically imagined the garments were pleased with the arrangement.
His fingers caressed her neck as he pulled her hair aside. Lowering his head until his lips brushed her ear, he asked, “Did you wear this silk nightdress for me?”
“No, I always wear silk to bed. I like the way it feels on my skin.”
Another growl, this one vibrating through her. Heat pooled in her secret place, proof of her desire she now knew. His mouth explored her neck causing her to whisper his name in a plea.
“Hush. Close your eyes, love, and just feel.”
Love. It was the first time he had called her love. The word settled over her, seducing her as finely as his heated kisses and caressing hands. Obeying, she closed her eyes, giving herself over to him.
Chase inwardly cringed. He hadn’t meant to call her love. He had only told one woman he loved her, but had called the women he’d been intimate with, luv. Claire deserved better. She wasn’t a dalliance, not a woman he used only to satisfy his needs.
Yet, he’d called her love. Not luv. The difference was important to both of them, though she didn’t realize it.
Christ in heaven, her skin was incredibly soft and as silky as the nightdress she wore. Following his own instructions to her, he closed his eyes, giving himself over to the feel of her in his arms. He nibbled his way down her neck to her shoulder, inhaling her violet scent as he explored her body.
Pulling the ribbon undone on the front of the nightdress, he slipped his hand inside and cupped a breast. A very perfect breast—more than enough to fill his hand. Her nipple peaked when he flicked his thumb over it, and he couldn’t help his smile when she trembled. He slipped his other hand below the silk so that he held a breast in each hand. Tonight, he wasn’t going to stop until he claimed her. That should worry him.
Sleep had been elusive because of her so he’d come down to the courtyard. Would she appear? If she didn’t, then he wouldn’t touch her until they went to London and he had the answer to his question. Or so he told himself. But he’d known in his heart she would walk through the door. When she did, he would break his promise and make love to her.
He would still give her a Season because if he didn’t—if he didn’t prove to his heart he could trust her—he would always hold a part of himself back and that was unacceptable. He was a man who when he loved, he loved with all that he was. When he offered his heart again, he would settle for nothing less than forever and a day from her as well as himself.
“Do you want me?” He slid his hand over the silk of her dressing gown, down to her belly. “Do you want me, Claire?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“I want you, Chase. I do.”
There was nothing else he needed to hear. “Come here then.” She snuggled her back against him as if there was nowhere else she belonged.
“Now what?”
“Well, that’s up to you, but what I’d like is to get this gown off you.”
“How remarkable.”
“Hmmm?” He nibbled on her ear. “Why’s that?”
She inclined her head, giving him better access to her neck. “Because we both want the same thing.”
Chase gathered the material in his hand and pulled up. She lifted her bottom and he slipped the gown over her head, dropping it on the floor.
He angled his head around hers and feasted on the sight of her beautiful body. “My God, you’re beautiful.”
She twisted in his arms and squatted on her knees facing him. “You, too,” she said, reaching for the buttons on his trousers.
He lowered his arms and let her have at him. She fumbled with the buttons and his male pride growled its approval that she was inexperienced at the thing. When she finally managed the last button, she pulled his breeches over his hips and down his legs.
For some reason, his feet seemed to fascinate her. Her hands explored his toes, the bottoms of his feet and the tops. They had never been made love to before and quite liked it. Her touch sent little shivers up his legs. While she played, his eyes devoured her body.
She was taller than most women, her arms and legs firm from working with the horses. Her hips flared out before curving into a small waist. Her belly was flat and her breasts, as he had discovered, were perfect. Her pale hair fell down her back to her waist.
Everything about her called to something primitive inside him. He wanted nothing more than to cover her body with his and bury himself deep inside her. But she was enjoying her explorations, so he mustered his control, allowing her to have her fun.
She peered up at him and grinned. “I had wondered what they felt like. Now I know.”
“And now that you have explored every inch of them, what do you think?”
“Oh, they are fine feet and I like them very much.”
She turned her attentions to his legs, but her eyes focused on his erection. His cock jerked as her hands came near it.
“May I touch it?”
“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”
“I’ve always wondered what a man looked like.”
She reached out with one finger and poked it. His laugh died in his throat when she wrapped her hand around him. It was apparent she wasn’t sure what to do with him now that she had him in hand, but he didn’t give a damn. Her tentative, inexperienced touches were driving him wild. Christ in heaven, what would it do to him when she gained experience? He might expire from the pleasure, but he would die a happy man.
“Enough,” he said. “Come up here.”
She crawled up his body. “I haven’t finished learning you,” she protested and then licked his nipple.
Chase almost came out of his skin. “Claire.” He pulled her up so she was lying atop his body and kissed her. Her breasts pressed against him, and h
e trailed his hands down to her bottom. He slid a finger inside her and she was wet, oh so wet. She moaned into his mouth. The taste of her, the feel of her, the little mewling sounds she made were too much and his control flew away on the wind. Flipping her over, he covered her body with his.
“Now. I have to have you now.”
In answer, she grabbed his head, pushing her tongue into his mouth, their tongues meeting in a fierce duel. Chase wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock and guided it to the entrance of her sheath. She was tight and he forced himself to go slow, to be gentle. He pushed a little deeper and stopped to let her get used to him. Christ in heaven, she felt good.
Claire knew he was afraid of hurting her, but it didn’t hurt, not the way it had with Thomas. She wrapped her legs around his bottom and pressed down. “Please.”
He groaned and slid fully inside her, then stilled. Burying his face in her neck, he sucked on her skin sending ripples of pleasure through her. She turned her head to the side, giving him better access. When he pulled back, she tightened her legs to keep him from leaving.
His soft chuckle sent hot puffs of breaths over the damp skin where his mouth had been. He pushed back into her and then began a rhythm she recognized, yet didn’t. Thomas had done this, but it had been accompanied by grunts on his part and pain on hers. With Chase, it was so good. As he moved inside her, a pressure built. All thoughts of Thomas evaporated.
Her lungs turned to bellows as she struggled for air. Now that she understood what was possible, she greedily reached for it, wanted to feel the intense pleasure again. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck and she licked it away with her tongue, tasting salt and him. A rumble sounded deep in his throat as his movements quickened. Wanting to see his face—to know if joining with her affected him as much as her, she kept her eyes open.
His jaws were rigid, his lips pressed together and his eyes were fixed on her. He made her think of a fierce warrior of medieval days come to storm the castle. She surrendered the castle without thought. “Take me,” she said.
He reached between them and flicked her most secret place with his finger. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Air left her lungs and her vision blurred as her body soared to the stars.