by Cathy Duke
“Easy, Amy, my love. We have lots of time. Relax and enjoy touching.” Arden whispered in her ear as he kissed her ear, touching the small shell with his tongue and then exploring his tongue down her throat inhaling the lavender sent of her, kissing her satin smooth skin. Amy placed her fingers over his chest and ran her hand through the thick forest of black hair. Her eyes were glazed with passion and her skin was flushed and hot. His chest was massive, hard, and textured with coarse black hair. It was strange to her, so opposite in every way to her own body.
He was sensual and sensitive to her needs, which gave her courage to explore his body as he was doing hers. When he reacted to her touch, she felt the power she had over him. It was such a strange and wonderful discovery. They were sharing in bringing each other pleasure and discovering what each needed and reacted to. He was vulnerable too. Her touch did magical things to him.
But things were building to a crescendo for Amy. She felt something stirring and there was no stopping the direction it was taking. She was aching and craving something beyond her knowledge. Arden's fingers were performing some kind of magic on her clitoris. She felt a tightness with no escape building when suddenly a pinch of his fingers created an eruption that took her to an explosive finish. A scream was swallowed by his passionate kiss. She was panting with after-shocks and gasping for her breath. What had happened? She looked at Arden with a puzzled expression on her face. Arden kissed her again and then stared into her eyes.
“The French call la petite mort or the little death. You experienced, I presume, your first orgasm.” He couldn't help but kiss her open mouth. It was frozen in an open, “Oh.” Her face was satin soft as he continued the kisses on her face. She smelled of soap and something that was specific to only Amy. He mounted her, spreading her legs wide with is knees. She clasped him around the neck and held him tight.
“I am sorry, but I am in desperate need of you now. I cannot wait. It will hurt the first time, but never again.”
“I want you too, Arden,” she whispered as he entered her slowly until he hit her barrier. He waited a moment and took a breath. Then he plunged in all the way with one hard thrust. Amy winced and cried out in surprise. It was not as painful as she anticipated. She felt a fullness and tightness that was uncomfortable and took a deep breath. Arden had stopped moving and was watching her face. He seemed to be in some kind of pain. He took a breath and his body relaxed.
“Are you all right, Amy?” he asked with concern. She nodded.
“Is that all there is?” she asked. His concern turned to amusement. One brow lifted up in surprise at her thought. There was so much she didn't know and he looked forward to educating her and bringing pleasure in the experience.
“No, my love. That is not all there is.” Then he moved slowly at first out and then in again carefully to make certain she was not uncomfortable. Her hips began to match the rhythm he had set. Arden could hold back no more. His thrusts became powerful and strong as he lost the ability to take it slow and gently as he had planned. Amy matched him thrust for thrust. She felt the change in comfort as he slid in and out of her and experienced the miracle of being one, connected and conjoined in such a close and binding relationship. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper into her. She heard him moan. She was arching her back and squirming trying to find something.
“If you don't stop moving like that I won't be able to last,” he ground out between breaths as he pounded into her.
She felt good. She was so tight that he could hardly control himself. And she was passionate and responsive. He just couldn't take it any slower or gently take her as was his original plan. Her eyes widened and a scream that was swallowed with a kiss marked Amy's release soon followed by Arden.
Arden relaxed on top of her taking his weight with his elbows. He rolled to the side and watched her face. Her eyes were closed and she was winded. He had never had an experience that left him in awe as this moment had done. He didn't think he would ever be sated wanting to experience this moment again. It had been her first time and he needed to be considerate and allow her some time to heal. She would be sore. He drew Amy's back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a protective gesture. It felt right. She was right. He sighed before closing his eyes and allowing sleep to overtake him.
Amy closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on falling asleep. Finally a smile found her lips as contentment took hold of her thoughts and one sigh later, she was asleep.
Chapter 12
London, England 1830
Bradley Winsbow, seventh Duke of Summerset loved his stepmother. She had married his father when he was just nine years old and had made what was nearly unbearable, wonderful. His father had not known what to do with children after his wife died of consumption. He merely packed them off to school or at the very least banished them to the nursery. He had no idea how to talk to them or what sort of support they needed. He could never relate to a child. It was hard to visualize him ever being a child himself. When his stepmother came along she wanted a relationship with the children. She demanded it in fact. His father was truly surprised and at a loss at that development.
Life changed for Bradley when she took over the household. He had fond memories of her reading to him, holding him in her lap and she insisted the children eat their meals together with the family. She praised him, wanted him to tell her what he did each day, and cared about him. She listened to him and she gave equal attention to his younger sister. He even called her mother and she deserved the sentiment. His father called her Charlie when no one but family was around, but her name was Charlotte. Every night she would kiss Bradley on the cheek and tuck in his covers and whisper, “Sweet dreams love” in his ear before leaving him to sleep. She made their Brownstone house in London a home. His father, too, received extra attention and turned into a father who could communicate with his children. That seemed a miracle, but she taught him how. She had patience and tolerance which Bradley learned to admire and emulate. Bradley used to visualize what he thought she said to him to make him suddenly comfortable with his children. It never failed to bring a smile to his face. What kinds of conversations did they have?
Charlotte had two children with his father and once told Bradley that he was their big brother and to watch over them because she trusted him. He loved his half-sisters and his father was in love with Charlotte.
Charlotte had a younger sister that Bradley adored and visited often. He considered her his Aunt as if they were actually blood related. Lady Beatrice Metcaffe was simply Aunt Bea to Bradley. Aunt Bea was famous for her rebellious behavior and although she had settled in her marriage as well as with the birth of her two sons, she had still continued to be quite the partner in crime to Bradley's rebellious ideas. They had lively political conversations and she had a sense of humor. They would laugh over some of his school boy antics that gotten him into trouble. She understood his mind. Bradley marveled over the fact that she could think like a young riotous boy. Her Brownstone in the popular community of Mayfair was his second home. Aunt Bea was always home to Bradley and received him at any time of day.
He stood in front of her familiar Brownstone that had been a vivid part of his happy childhood. He had let the hired hacky go and now stood there reliving many fond memories. He had missed her. He had always thought if he married, it would be a girl like Aunt Bea. She was beautiful, but he did not think about that when he was a young boy. She was not that much older than he was, after all. Common to London was the overcast skies threatening a good soaking. He carried his umbrella for the threat of a storm and sighed as he wondered how he would broach the subject that so nagged him. He tucked the umbrella beneath his arm. No more time to dally. Buck up and gather his courage.
He walked up the steps and rapped on the front door. It opened to reveal a familiar face. The butler stared a moment at Bradley and then broke out into a giant grin.
“Ah. Master Bradley…er…sorry, Your Grace. It is so good to se
e you.” Bradley smiled back and gave Mason a hug. He couldn't help the impropriety. This man played hide and seek with him, after all. He never told tales on Bradley and kept the mischief to himself. A fine friend to have when one was growing up.
“Mason. How good to see you. Is Aunt Bea in?” he asked as he dumped his coat and hat with Mason and looked about for his Aunt.
“I will let her know you are here to see her, Your Grace.” Mason led the way into the front parlor that was designed for receiving guests. “Shall I send for tea?”
“That would be nice, Mason.” The butler left and Bradley took a slow turn around the room where he had once played poker with Aunt Bea. He chuckled to himself at what fun it had been to teach her poker. She could not keep a straight face to save her life and he could always read her hand from her expression. Then one day she played him on that weakness and he lost. He laughed out loud. The fact that she had mastered the poker face, was a source of great joy to her especially when he had not known how she had advanced in her skills. He had not seen his cousins in quite some time. They must be off at school. Everything was as it was, always clean and well taken care of. It was missing the crack of a boy's laughter and the sounds of mischief.
The room was comfortable. Not too stuffy as some parlors were. People lived in this parlor and the furniture was actually used. The gold and pale rose colors were easy on the eyes and he sighed, thinking of the good times he had right here in this room. He spotted a deck of cards on a small lamp table and figured someone still played cards. Maybe his cousins were now card players. The cards were well worn testament to his adventures at card playing. The windows allowed light in because the heavy brocade drapes were tied back. The room had a fresh clean smell; a hint of bees wax tickled his nostrils.
There was a decorative mirror above the small marble fireplace. He checked his blond hair cut short with a wave across his forehead that always seemed to break loose from his otherwise slick combing. His face was handsome. Masculine, and yet with a beauty that almost hinted of feminine. His nose was straight and his blue eyes were fringed with heavy lashes any woman would envy. He smiled easily and it created the slightest sign of creases at the outer corner of his eyes. The effect gave his face the notion that he smiled a lot and his nature must be that of kindness.
He heard his Aunt's voice as she came down the stairs talking to Mason. He loved her voice. When she laughed, which was often, it sounded like tiny bells ringing. She swept into the room as if she were dancing. Her skirts swung around her slim figure in a graceful motion that welcomed his compliments.
“Ahh. Aunt Bea. You look ravishing, as always. And here I surprised you with a visit too,” Bradley said as he bowed perfectly and took her hand for a kiss.
“Why so formal, my darling? Come in for a much needed hug. I have missed you terribly.” She wrapped Bradley in her arms and squeezed him like she did when he was but a boy. But now she had to reach up to wrap her arms around his neck to bring his head down for a kiss. When he pulled out of her arms, he stood back for an assessment. Did she never age? She was just as he remembered and yet he had not seen her in several years. Her rich chestnut hair held no sign of graying and her face looked hardly thirty. She was dressed in a stylish blue day dress with darker blue trim. She smelled of the same rose fragrance he always associated with her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief ready to challenge him as she did in days gone past.
“I have missed you too. Who have you found to cheat at cards with these days, Aunt?' He teased as he motioned for her to sit so that he too could sit.
“You rascal. I only learned from you, but I have taught my boys to play cards just to keep in practice. You look well, Bradley. I keep waiting to hear news of an engagement. Will I wait long? There must be a worthy woman somewhere.”
Bradley starred at her for a moment lost in time. It was uncanny. She could be a sister to Millie Balston or an older twin. How could this be? He was speechless. He watched her straighten her skirts and watch him with interest.
“You are wool gathering, darling. Whatever is on your mind?” At the continued silence, she spoke again. “Bradley, I dare say someone knocked you on the head. Come back to me please or I shall worry. Whatever has put you into this trance?”
“I have met someone.”
Aunt Bea squealed with enthusiasm stopping Bradley for a moment.
“No, this is serious, Aunt Bea.”
She laughed. “Of course, my darling. I am most interested to hear who has finally captured your heart and has you left in a trance.”
Bradley sighed in frustration. “Please, Aunt. Listen to me. This is not about my heart,” he sighed. “I don't know how to say this…or where to start.”
She lost her smile and became serious as Bradley needed her attention. “Just spill it. I am intrigued.” Before another word was said a maid brought the tea service in and they both held their tongues while the maid put the tray in front of Her Grace so she could pour. She poured a cup for Bradley.
“If I remember correctly, you take lemon only.”
“Yes, thank you.” He watched her gracefully prepare the tea.
She passed him his tea while the maid left and shut the door. She poured her own tea adding cream and sugar and took a sip looking over the rim of the flowered tea cup at her nephew.
“Do continue, my dear. You have my undivided attention.” She smiled warmly at Bradley, her eyes twinkling as if she could barely hold her happiness within control. She loved a good mystery and intrigue.
“You look like her.” Aunt Bea looked up, confused. “I mean you could be her sister. She looks exactly like you,” Bradley finished staring at his Aunt, hoping she had some answers.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“I am talking about a woman I met that could be your twin,” He muttered watching her expression turn to surprise.
There was an uncomfortable silence. “People can resemble others I suppose. They say everyone has a double,” Aunt Bea announced casually. She peered at Bradley with curiosity waiting patiently for more explanation to his remarks.
“No,” he said shaking his head slowly. “It's more than that. She is…well, I almost mistook her for you.”
“I see.” Aunt Bea was confused and frowning. There was another uncomfortable silence. Aunt Bea seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Bradley watched her. Finally she took a sip of her tea.
“How old is my double?”
“She is twenty.” With that, Aunt Bea's eyes widened in what seemed shock to Bradley. There was another silence. “She is from America, an orphan it seems.”
Aunt Bea trembled and with hands shaking, she had to put her cup down. Tears suddenly flooding her eyes. They were spilling over as she searched her pocket for a handkerchief. Bradley pulled one out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. He patiently waited for her to capture her wits, knowing she could not speak in this emotional moment. He searched her face in concern. This was more difficult than he could possibly imagine.
Finally she shook her head back and forth in denial and then tried to stop the flow of tears. “It can't be,” she whispered. “It just can't be. If what I think is true, then they lied to me. They…lied to me!”
Bradley knew better than interrupt. It was like he was witnessing a scene in a play. He waited for her next words.
“I was just seventeen when my father arranged a marriage for me. The groom to be was so much older…or seemed so at the time.” She smiled as she thought back. She was transformed by her story, picking up the facial expressions that also told her story. “I fancied myself in love with a young man who was poor and without a title. Not suitable. When my father found out I wanted to marry him, he arranged the marriage with an older proper gentleman. I just couldn't settle for the older man when the man I loved was within reach. I got myself with child. We ran away. It was the only thing we could do at that point. We married on the ship to America. The captain married us. His name… my husband was David and I was
so scared. I left my family and everything I knew. We had no money…just a few coins and a lot of charity on the way by sympathetic witnesses to our plight. When we got to America David got a job working at a small newspaper setting type. We got a room to rent and I took in sewing for extra money. I had never done mending…only embroidery. It was so hard to survive by myself. I was ill prepared for the world.” She took a breath and then sobbed. “I just never thought I would relive this again.” She reached for Bradley's hand and held it a moment, her eyes swimming with tears.
“You need not tell me…”
“No, actually I do. David met with an accident. There was a mob that attacked the newspaper office for something they printed that was controversial. We had no idea since we were young and inexperienced. David just set type…he didn't write for the newspaper. We did not understand the politics in America. It angered some people and they had torches and well, they set the newspaper offices on fire and burned it down…that and the people in it working. They were all trapped. It happened so fast. David was gone…over something he didn't even write or care about.” Bea took a breath and sighed in anguish. “I was alone then. And grieving for the man I loved. I didn't even have the money to bury him. David was buried in an unmarked grave with no grave stone to tell his story. I wrote to my parents and asked for help. They came in time to help me with the birth of my child. I thought I had done the right thing. How could I manage on my own with a new baby? It was all so over whelming. We had made friends, but life was hard and no family could take on more…like me and my child. ”
“Millie Balston,” Bradley offered.
Bea's eyes widened at the mention of the name Bradley mentioned. “They told me my baby died. I believed them,” she whispered, shaking her head back and forth in denial. “But she didn't, did she?”