Annabelle's Courtship

by Lucy Monroe

  Robert approached with a smile. “Hello, Annabelle. I would never have thought it, but you fit the blushing bride to perfection.”

  Visions of strangling her brother with his cravat floated before her eyes.

  Diana came to her rescue in short order. “Robert, you will not annoy your sister or I will be forced to share some well kept secrets from our wedding day.” At the look of very real chagrin on her brother’s face, Annabelle smiled. “Thank you, Diana. You are a paragon.”

  Diana acknowledged Annabelle’s compliment with a quick squeeze to her arm. Then she turned to Ian. “It’s too bad that your family could not come for the wedding.” He shrugged. His attitude sparked Annabelle’s curiosity. She wondered if Ian even wanted his family to come. He seemed hesitant to speak of them and had been adamant about not waiting for the marriage to take place in order to give them time to travel to London. Was he ashamed of marrying her? The thought did not sit well with Annabelle.

  He’d best not be. It was too late to regret his choice.

  After several exhausting hours celebrating her marriage with family and friends, Annabelle sighed in relief as she leaned against the squabs of Ian’s carriage. Our carriage, she amended her thoughts.

  “Tired, wife?”

  “Yes. I never realized how fatiguing it is to receive happy wishes.” This time when Ian pulled her into his arms, she did not yelp. Sighing in contentment, she snuggled up against him.

  He rubbed her back and it felt heavenly. “Poor lass.”

  “That feels nice, Ian. Did the married men advise rubbing your wife’s back?” Not waiting for him to answer, she went on. “I think every matron in the room had advice for my wifely duty.”

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. “And will you be taking their advice, wife?” Absently playing with the silky strands of his hair, she thought about her answer.

  Would she? Some of it, maybe.

  “Is it such a hard question, then?” Annabelle heard his amusement and smiled.

  “No, it’s just that I’m not sure.”

  “You sound serious, wife. What advice has you wondering?”

  “It’s about the marriage bed.”

  “Out with it, wife.”

  Annabelle smiled in spite of herself at her husband’s demanding tone. So it was a subject that interested him as well. Somehow, she thought it might be.

  “I am supposed to lie perfectly still and not cry out, or you will get a disgust of me.” She was unprepared for Ian’s bold laughter. Pulling on his hair she said, “It’s not funny, Ian. I already know I cannot stay still when you kiss me and touch me intimately.

  How am I to stay still when you do more?”

  Ian lifted her chin with his finger. His eyes mesmerized her. “I dinna want you to lie still, Belle. The fire of your passion is a very good thing and I dinna want you to dampen it. Do you understand?”

  She nodded her head. “I understand.” She had expected this response, but a tiny part of her had been afraid that her uninhibited reaction to his touch was wrong. “Thank you.”

  “Dinna thank me. Your response to my touch is a gift you give me, lass.”

  “What a nice thing to say.” She yawned.

  He did not respond, but kissed her softly before tucking her head under his chin. Her eyes grew heavy as his caresses lulled her into a peaceful state of lethargy. It was evening when Ian gently shook her awake. “Come, wife, we have arrived at the inn.” Annabelle rubbed her eyes and stared, blinking up at her husband. He waited patiently for her to come fully awake. Rumbling came from the vicinity of her stomach.

  “I believe I am hungry.”

  “Aye, you are hungry.” Ian lifted her from the carriage and carried her into the inn.

  “I can walk, Ian. Let me down.” Annabelle struggled vainly for Ian to release her.

  “I like holding you.” The tender warmth in his voice transfixed her.

  “I feel like a child still in leading strings.” Ian pulled her close to his hard frame. Lightly brushing the side of her breast with his fingers, he whispered in her ear, “You dinna feel like a small child to me.” Annabelle laughed breathlessly. He refused to set her down until they had entered the inn and the proprietor had given them directions to their private parlor. Relief flowed through her that Ian did not intend to go straight to their bedchamber.

  Sparse but elegant furnishings gave the parlor a welcoming aspect. An elegant table covered with an embroidered linen tablecloth sat between two chairs in front of the fireplace. A cozy fire burned in the grate, warding off the evening chill. Moving closer to

  the table, Annabelle saw that it was set with china and crystal more in keeping with the home of a wealthy peer than a small inn.

  A box, the size of a book, that matched the one Ian had given her with her betrothal ring, rested next to one of the china plates. She put her hand out and caressed the delicate rose carved into its top. She noticed, then, that the china had been painted with Ian’s crest. How? Overwhelmed, she turned to face her husband.

  “Everything is perfect.”

  “I am glad it pleases you, Belle.”

  “How did you manage all of this?” She swept her arms out to include the table and everything on it.

  He shrugged. “’Twas no hard. I had the china painted when I first got to London.”

  “Why?” She could not take it in. “Surely you were not concerned about household matters so much as finding a wife and gaining your inheritance.”

  “There is no china at Graenfrae.” He ran his finger along the outer edge of a plate.

  “’Twas something my grandfather sold to finance his cause. After I chose you to wed, I dinna wish you to be too disappointed in my home. So, I commissioned a few household items. Lady Beauford was a great help.”

  “My aunt?”

  He nodded. “Aye.” He met her eyes, his intent. “I dinna want you to be deceived.

  Graenfrae is a simple home. ’Tis naught by the standards of London. Even with the new dishes and linens, ’tis no like the home you are used to. ’Tis a deep cavernous castle.” He did not sound apologetic, just pragmatic. His tone of voice and stance told her that he found his home acceptable, but was not sure of her reaction. He wanted her to like his home, or he would not have gone to the trouble of buying the lovely china and new linens.

  She smiled at him. “I am sure I will love Graenfrae.” He relaxed and nodded. “Aye. You will. ’Tis the loveliest place on earth with the heather blooming purple in the meadows and the grass lush and green.”

  “It does indeed sound lovely. Robert’s favorite country estate is near the border. He believes its beauties more than make up for the lack of social amenities.”

  “And Lady Hamilton? Does she like it as well?”

  “Yes, I believe so. She teases Robert about moldering away on his estate, but she readily agreed to coming late to the season this year.”

  The landlord came bustling into the room, followed by a serving wench, her arms laden with choice delicacies. “Everything arrived as Your Lordship said it would. We’ve set the table with your things just as Your Lordship instructed.” As the girl set the food on the table the landlord happily proclaimed that his wife had cooked all day to provide the delicacies Ian had requested. Ian seated Annabelle at the table and the landlord served them himself.

  After the man left, Annabelle could not take her eyes off of her husband. She had been starving, but now all she could think of was the effort Ian had made on her behalf.

  She waited until the landlord left to speak. “Thank you. Your thoughtfulness has made the end of my wedding day as perfect as I could ever imagine.” Suddenly his eyes darkened. He smiled, but did not look amused. “Nay, lass, your wedding day is not over, but when it is you will indeed think it has been perfect.” At the rich promise in her husband’s voice, her heart beat a wild rhythm. Not daring to answer, Annabelle set to eating the feast Ian had provided. Biting into a succulent pork cutlet, she felt the juices dribble dow
n her chin. Before she could wipe it away, Ian reached across the table and softly tended to her with his napkin. The tender touch felt like a caress. Annabelle’s breath became shorter and she looked at Ian with all of the love that she felt in her heart.

  “Dinna look at me that way, wife. Ye’ll be missing your dinner if you do.” Aware that Ian’s more pronounced burr confirmed his emotionally charged state, Annabelle’s heart hammered in her chest. The promise in Ian’s words was both thrilling and frightening. She enjoyed his touch, but could not get the image of his aroused manhood from her mind. Surely he was too big to join with her intimately.

  If that was not enough of a worry, he had yet to see her completely unclothed. What if he found her lacking? What if she could not please him making love as she had with their pleasurable touching? It was a worry. Lowering her eyes to the tablecloth, Annabelle tried to concentrate on her dinner.

  “Coward.” Ian’s softly spoken taunt could not go unchallenged.

  Quickly raising her head to meet his gaze she was momentarily stunned into silence by the warmth she found in his eyes. “I am not a coward.” Rather than sounding certain as she intended, her voice came out a breathless whisper.

  “Aye, you are. I’ll wait though. You’ll need your dinner to keep your strength tonight.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Nay, wife, ’tis only a blessed promise.”

  “Ah, so this night I will feel blessed, but tired. Is that it?” Annabelle could not help but bait him.

  “Aye.” He sounded so arrogant.

  “How can you be so sure I’ll like it?”

  “You will.” The man was too confident by half.

  “Maybe I won’t. What do you think of that?” After all, he had been the one to say that making love was different than their pleasurable touching. What if it was too different?

  “I think you are finished eating.”

  Her mouth felt dry and Annabelle took a large swallow of her champagne. “I’m not quite finished yet.” She prevaricated, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was simply pushing the food from one side of her plate to the other.

  He noticed.

  Standing up, he put his hand out to her. “Come, bride, it is time you became a wife.” Searching for something to delay the inevitable, she caught up the box. “I have not yet thanked you for the gift, Ian. It is lovely.” The box was heavy. She opened the lid and stared in amazement. A golden choker of rose blooms nestled on the black velvet. She lifted it out and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Her words came out in a whisper, but he heard them. “’Tis your wedding gift.” His statement triggered her memory. “I have a gift for you as well. It is in my valise.” His eyes were so intent she almost lost her train of thought. “In our room.” He smiled. “Come, then, Belle. I have an overwhelming desire to see my gift in our room.”

  He did not mean the books. His eyes spoke of a much more personal gift he wanted.

  Desire and trepidation shuddered through her. Annabelle placed her hand in his and felt his warmth invade her. It was going to be fine. Other brides had made it through this ordeal as well.

  “’Tis not an ordeal. Trust me, you will like it even better than what we have done before.”

  Mortified, Annabelle realized she had spoken aloud. At least Ian wasn’t angry. He hadn’t taken kindly to her calling the wedding an ordeal, but he seemed to understand her nerves regarding the marriage bed. Gentlemen were funny.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was nothing amusing about it, but Ian was laughing all the same. The daft man expected her to change into her night things while he was in the room.

  “You cannot be serious. Ian, I am not going to allow you to help me change and you might as well understand that right now.”

  Her voice was rising. Soon she’d be yelling like a fishwife. Why had she agreed to leave Purdy behind to pack the remainder of her belongings? Someone else could do it and then she would have another woman to speak to, someone to help her undress and ready herself for the night ahead.

  Ian didn’t budge. “I would leave you to dress yourself, but in your current state you’d probably lock the door the minute I was on the other side.” Annabelle couldn’t very well scoff at his words, as the idea had some merit. How did other ladies overcome this horrible fear?

  As if he could read her mind, Ian said “Dinna be afraid. We will not do anything you dinna want to do.”

  “I do not want to get undressed.”

  He shocked her by agreeing. “Fine.”

  “It is?” She sounded like a mouse. Clearing her throat she spoke again. “You don’t mind?” That was much better.

  “Nay.”

  She sighed with relief.

  “Come here.”

  “Why?” She asked the question even as she started toward Ian. If he could be accommodating, then so could she.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “You do?”

  Laughing, Ian answered. “Aye, I do. Are you going to question everything I say tonight? You like kissing me.”

  Annabelle considered this. “I don’t think I’ll question everything you say.” She moved closer to her husband. “I do like kissing you.” She liked the other things he did as well. It was only the marriage act that had her so frightened. That and completely exposing her unremarkable body. What would she do if he took one look and the lambent desire in his eyes turned to boredom?

  “Good.”

  She nodded. What was good?

  He put his hands on her arms and drew her slowly toward him. For a moment he just held her, letting her settle against him. She loved the feel of his hard muscles against her cheek and hands. A strong desire to caress those muscles through his shirt assailed her.

  “All right now?”

  She was trying. “Yes.”

  Taking her chin gently in his fingers, he lifted her face toward his. His kiss was like wind gently caressing her lips, lasting only a moment. Sighing, she cuddled against him and he kissed her again. His hands strayed to her back and caressed her through the silk of her gown. His touch was so light, so gentle, so very warm.

  Annabelle gave in to the urge to touch him and rubbed her fingers over his broad chest. He groaned. His response made her smile until his hand moved around to cup one of her breasts. Air came whooshing out of her lungs in a gust. He softly kneaded her flesh. Sensations shot through her. Her nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of her bodice. Small jolts of pleasure traveled down her body and concentrated at her feminine center.

  She wanted his lips. “I thought you wanted to kiss me.” He lowered his head and took possession of her lips. His mouth moved over hers overpowering her thoughts with raw sensation. He licked at the seam of her lips.

  “Open your mouth for me, wife.”

  She obeyed with a sigh of surrender. It felt so good. His tongue played a sensual dance in her mouth. She held him more tightly, sure that if she let go, she would fall. His hand that was not kneading her breast worked its way around to her buttocks. He squeezed her soft flesh, pushing the juncture of her thighs against his.

  Sensation tore through her. The intimacy of his touch marked her as his. She could feel his hardness, but it did not worry her. She was still fully clothed.

  Coherent thought scattered as he rocked his hips against hers. Pleasure arced through her most feminine place and she groaned against his lips. Eager to feel more of him, she untied his neckcloth and pulled it off. She wanted to unbutton his shirt, but her trembling fingers fumbled against the task. Finally she had his shirt open and her hands slipped in to touch his chest and move around to explore the plains of his back.

  “Aye, Belle, that’s right.”

  His approval made her bolder. She slipped her hands down his back and caressed the spot just above the waistband of his breeches. “You are so strong and hard, Ian.” She pressed her fingers into the muscles of his lower back. “I love the way your body feels
.” Ian stopped her words with his mouth. His movements took on a desperate quality.

  He thrust his hardness against the apex of her thighs again and again. Helpless to resist his onslaught of passion, she met his thrusts with those of her own. Insatiable need built up inside of her.

  In her passionate frenzy, she slipped her hands down and pressed his backside. She wanted him closer. The awesome knowledge that he was her husband and she had leave to touch him like this sent Annabelle’s heart spinning. His groans and short breath told her that he liked what she was doing.

  “Dinna do that, lass.”

  The harsh words were like being dunked in an icy brook. She immediately stilled.

  She looked up at him. It took a moment for her passion-hazed eyes to focus. A fine sheen of perspiration stood out across his brow. His eyes were so dark with emotion that they were almost black.

  “Do you not like it?” she asked.

  “I like it too much,” he replied.

  He looked like a man in agony. He looked like a man on the verge of losing his control. He did not look like a man who did not like what she had been doing.

  She wanted more of his mouth. Putting her hands in his hair she pulled his mouth down to hers. She pressed her lips against his so forcefully that their teeth touched.

  He groaned and opened his mouth for her questing tongue. She played her tongue against his. Ian shuddered and swept her up in his arms. He carried her to the bed.

  Annabelle wondered if they could make love with her clothes on and then could not think at all as Ian pulled down the bodice of her dress and chemise to expose her breasts.

  She felt overwhelming sensations as her nipples reacted to the air. Ian’s hand closed around one breast. He took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth.