Nicholas broke their kiss momentarily so that he could remove Cecilia’s shift. She felt her breasts bouncing slightly as she raised and then lowered her arms. She saw Nicholas staring at her breasts and smiled to herself, before leaning in to kiss him.
As they kissed, Nicholas inched Cecilia backwards, until she was standing right up against the table at the edge of the room. He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her onto the table where she sat in front of him. Cecilia breathed in sharply as he pushed her knees apart and stood between them.
He leaned in to kiss her again, moving his lips down her neck, past her collar bone and to her breasts. He took her right nipple into his mouth and sucked. Cecilia felt a wave of pleasure and her breath caught in her throat. She ran her fingers through Nicholas’ hair and kissed the top of his head.
His kisses continued to move down her body, and Cecilia placed her hands on the table behind her to brace herself. Nicholas led a trail of kisses down her belly. Surely he does not mean to kiss me down there? The thought was shocking to her and yet strangely appealing.
When Nicholas finally did kiss her between her legs, kneeling on the floor in front of the table, Cecilia gasped, and spread her legs wider. She threw her head back and moaned with pleasure. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced, tense and relaxing at the same time.
Over time, the tension built in her until she felt that she might burst. Just when she thought that she could stand it no longer, she felt the tension release, and waves of pleasure rolled through her body, one after another. She cried out with it, Nicholas stroking her thighs with his hands as he kissed her.
Nicholas trailed kisses along her thighs before standing up and looking at Cecilia’s face. His eyes were dark with desire.
“That was…” Cecilia began, catching her breath between words. “That was amazing.”
“Mmm…” Nicholas said, kissing her neck between each word, “that…is good…to hear, but…I am…not…done…with you…yet.”
“Oh you’re not?” Cecilia asked, her voice playful. “What else did you have in mind?”
Cecilia bit her lip as she considered the possibilities. Nicholas leaned in and kissed her once again. Within a moment, Cecilia was lying down on the table, Nicholas lying on top of her. They continued to kiss as she felt the weight of his body pressing down on hers.
Cecilia could feel him growing hard, pressed against her belly. It was bigger than she expected. She knew how this worked, in theory, but now that the time had come, she felt sure it could not possibly work.
Her mind considered the geometry of the matter. With the length and circumference, him fitting seemed nearly impossible. And yet, her body responded eagerly. She felt an ache deep inside, longing to be filled by him.
Cecilia squirmed beneath him, breathing heavily, and then lifted her hips up to meet him. He entered her slowly, guiding himself with one hand. She felt a stretching sensation and cried out.
Nicholas stopped abruptly, “Have I hurt you?” he asked sounding concerned. “Should I stop?”
“No!” she said quickly. “Please don’t stop! Just be gentle.”
“Gentle,” he repeated, “of course.”
They began again, and this time, Cecilia changed the angle of her hips slightly, lifting them toward Nicholas as he thrust into her. She felt a moment of discomfort at first, but it quickly passed. Soon she felt the ache inside of her beginning to throb. But it was not a painful ache, it was a yearning sensation that craved nothing more than Nicholas.
They moved together to a rhythm set by their bodies. Cecilia could not have said how she knew what to do, but her body seemed to understand exactly what was needed. After a few minutes of this, Cecilia began to feel the same waves of pleasure washing over her that she had experienced earlier.
She cried out in ecstasy and held Nicholas close to her, scratching his back with her fingernails. Her muscles pulsed as her body surrendered to the pleasure it was experiencing. A moment later, Nicholas let out a low, deep moan of pleasure. His body convulsed on top of her, and Cecilia felt the warmth of his release.
After they had finished, Cecilia lay on the table, wrapped up in Nicholas’ arms, both of them breathing deeply. She could hardly believe what she had just experienced. Making love to her husband had been an even greater pleasure than she had expected—and they would be able to do it again any time they pleased.
* * *
As it turned out, they were quite lucky that the Duke of Westfield did not expect Cecilia to do any work during the honeymoon. She and Nicholas spent almost all of their time in the bedchamber. They made love more times than Cecilia could count, but they also spent hours kissing, caressing, and exploring one another’s bodies.
Cecilia soon learned that her husband was ticklish in a particular spot just beneath his left ear. She amused herself for hours at a time by kissing him there and watching him squirm and giggle like a child.
In time, they discovered that there were many positions in which to make love, Nicholas did not always need to be on top of her. They tried as many as they could think of, some more successfully than others, but eventually they learned that Cecilia preferred to be on top.
“I rather enjoy letting you take control,” Nicholas said when they had made this discovery.
Cecilia laughed at this and leaned in to kiss him once again. Running her hands down over his body she discovered that he was ready once again.
“Well, well, well, My Lord,” she said in a playful voice, “what have we here?”
“I’m afraid I do not know, My Lady,” he said, breathily, “perhaps you ought to investigate.”
Cecilia remembered the way that he had kissed her between her thighs the first time they had made love, and felt suddenly inspired. Lowering herself down beneath the sheets, she took him in her mouth—kissing and licking him. His moans of pleasure sent a wave of desire through her own body.
She stopped before the final release, teasing him and feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at his frustrated sigh. But she could not deny him for long—she swung one leg over him and straddled his torso. Carefully, using one hand to guide herself, she lowered her hips onto his and they began to rock together in a well-practiced rhythm. It did not take long before they were both crying out in pleasure.
Chapter 33
The honeymoon had been a blissful escape, but Nicholas felt that it ended entirely too quickly. When the servants packed their trunks and placed them in the carriage, Nicholas and Cecilia left reluctantly—aware that they must return to their normal life, but not eager to do so.
They returned to Huxley Manor, where Cecilia was given her own suite of rooms. The Duchess had suggested that Nicholas keep his old bedchamber, but he insisted on moving into Cecilia’s and she made no objections to this idea.
Nicholas would have liked to stay in bed with Cecilia all day long, as they had done in London, but the thought of the look on his mother’s face when he finally emerged made him think better of this idea.
“I must admit that I am not eager to spend the day with your mother,” Cecilia said. “But I am quite sure that hiding away in our room will only make things worse when we eventually emerge.”
“Mmm…” Nicholas said sleepily, rolling over to kiss her deeply before sitting up and saying, “I do not doubt that you are right, darling. Besides, my mother seems scarier than she actually is.”
“If you say so,” Cecilia said. “Perhaps in time I will feel the same way.”
“I am quite sure of it,” Nicholas replied, “and in the meantime, there is still much to be done in preparation for Isobel’s debut. I am quite sure that my mother would appreciate your help, even if she is not fully adjusted to the idea of having you as her daughter-in-law.
When Cecilia and Nicholas joined the family for breakfast, they soon discovered that he had been right. The Duchess asked Cecilia to help her decide how best to set up the furniture in the drawing room and ballroom. Nicholas felt certain
that she was only asking for Cecilia’s help with the matter to make her feel useful. Mother has planned enough balls in her lifetime, she knows how best to lay out furniture. Still, he was sure that Cecilia’s eye for proportions would be useful.
“Perhaps I could join you as well,” Nicholas said, eager to spend the day with his new wife, and to be present in case his mother should mistreat her.
Cecilia smiled at him lovingly, and his mother raised her eyebrows, but did not object. Isobel gave him a wink and a rather knowing smile. “Oh Nick, I do appreciate your interest in helping with preparations for my debut!” she said, enthusiastically.
“Of course, Izzy,” his replied, attempting to sound equally enthusiastic. “I am happy to do anything that I can to help.”
When they entered the ballroom, Isobel walked around the room looking at everything she came across. “Obviously we shall need plenty of room for dancing,” she said, looking dreamily around the room.
Cecilia and the Duchess set to work immediately, making notes of which pieces would need to change locations within the ballroom, and which ones would need to be removed entirely. Once or twice, Cecilia moved as though to shift the pieces herself, before remembering that they were only making notes and the servants would move everything later.
It soon became clear that Nicholas was getting in the way of their work, rather than helping.
“Darling,” he said to Cecilia, “would you mind terribly if I went to find Westfield? It seems that you have everything under control here.”
“Of course,” Cecilia said with a smile, “I shall be just fine here.” She turned back to the ballroom and returned to making notes.
Nicholas was pleased to see that Cecilia no longer seemed nervous in his mother’s presence. He smiled to himself as he walked out of the ballroom and headed to the library to find Westfield.
* * *
The day of Isobel’s debut had finally arrived. Cecilia was helped into her new gown by Billingsley, who had been promoted to be her personal lady’s maid. Billingsley chatted animatedly about the ball. According to her, the servants talked of hardly anything but who would be in attendance, and who would dance with whom.
It seemed to Cecilia that the servants knew more of what to expect from the ball than she did, no matter how much Nicholas and Isobel assured her that she would be perfectly fine and no one would notice if she forgot someone’s name or title.
Her fears were quickly overshadowed by shock when she saw her own reflection in the looking glass. Her gown was even more beautiful than she had remembered it, and now that it was tailored to fit her perfectly, she felt more beautiful than she ever had in her life. Her hair was styled elegantly, with clusters of curls resting next to each ear, and around her neck she wore a string of pearls that Nicholas had given to her the previous day.
As Billingsley made small adjustments to her hem and cuffs, Cecilia stared at herself in disbelief. She did not look like a carpenter’s daughter. She looked like an aristocrat—and she supposed she had better get used to that, since she was a Marchioness now.
Billingsley brought out a pair of white-satin gloves, with delicate pearl buttons fastening the wrists. They would complement Cecilia’s necklace perfectly. As she pulled the gloves onto her hands, she felt a small scar on her left palm, and was reminded of the time she had cut herself while carving a floral design on a cabinet door.
The cut had been painful at the time, but had healed quickly and left only a small scar. The feel of it under her fingertips made Cecilia feel oddly calm. She was still the same person, in a rough-spun work dress, or a beautiful satin gown.
She had survived countless minor injuries in her years working for her father. She had survived being kidnapped and held hostage by a madman she had once considered a friend. She would survive her sister-in-law’s debutante ball, as well.
Once she was dressed and ready, Nicholas came out of his dressing room to meet her. He looked at her, dumbstruck for a moment, staring at the tops of her breasts, which showed over the fashionably low-cut neckline of her gown. Cecilia smiled at him, knowing exactly what he must be thinking. In fact, she was thinking the same thing. He looked incredibly handsome in his formal tailcoat and breeches.
Nicholas leaned in to kiss her, and she met his lips with hers eagerly. After a minute of kissing, Nicholas began to run his hands over Cecilia’s body, and a moan of pleasure escaped her. She would gladly have fallen into bed with him then and there, but reluctantly she pushed her husband away.
“Later, my darling,” she whispered. “We must not be late for the ball.”
“Later,” he repeated, his voice a low growl, and his eyes dark with desire, “that is a promise, My Lady.”
Nicholas offered her his arm, and she took it as they left the room and descended the stairs. When the time came for them to enter the ballroom, they were announced, “The Most Honorable, Nicholas and Cecilia Lymington, Marquess and Marchioness of Clive!”
Cecilia knew that it would take her a long time to grow accustomed to being introduced by her new name, let alone her new title. Still, she could not help but enjoy walking into the ballroom on the arm of the most handsome man in the room.
To her immense relief, she found that everyone present was polite and kind to her throughout the evening. She danced with her husband, but also with his friend, the Duke of Westfield, and her father-in-law, the Duke of Huxley. He had been feeling much better over the past several weeks. Lady Isobel had confided in Cecilia that she had begun adding a variety of herbal supplements to her father’s tea, and they seemed to be working.
As the debutante of the ball, Lady Isobel danced with every man present. Cecilia noticed that her sister-in-law danced with the Duke of Westfield twice, and seemed to laugh and smile more during those sets than at any other point in the evening. Perhaps Nicholas was right about the two of them.
Cecilia was fascinated by the intricacies of the debutante ball. There seemed to be intense calculations happening at the edges of the room, determining who should dance with whom and when. Cecilia did not understand any of this, but felt that she might learn in time. I suppose I really do enjoy high society after all.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Nicholas and Cecilia were now living in a London townhouse just a few blocks away from the Duke of Westfield. In the year since their marriage, Westfield had taken a wife. It just so happened that his young bride was Nicholas’ sister Isobel—now Her Grace, The Duchess of Westfield.
Cecilia spent much of her time with her sister-in-law and brother-in-law, working on projects for their house. She had designed all new furniture for the drawing room, the Duke’s study, the library, and the master bedroom.
Cecilia and Isobel had spent many long days together, designing pieces for each room that suited the new Duchess’ taste. The Duke had been present for many of their meetings as well, but aside from the desk in his own study, he allowed his wife to choose almost everything.
“As long as my wife is happy, that is all I need to know,” the Duke had said on many occasions, usually kissing Isobel on the cheek, or reaching out to touch her hand as he did.
Cecilia and Isobel had become good friends in the course of all of their work together, and Cecilia knew that Isobel really was happy.
Once the designs were finalized, Cecilia had sent them to her father who had built each of the pieces with the help of his new apprentice, Davey Jessup. Cecilia felt quite lucky to be able to visit with her father each time he came to London to deliver a completed piece. Moving away from his home had been a difficult adjustment for both of them.
“Cece, you look positively radiant!” Her father had said to her during his last visit. “London suits you, my dear.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she replied, with a smile. “I am learning to enjoy city living. There is a lending library nearby with the most incredible collection. Of course, I haven’t much extra time for reading with all of the work I am doing for Westfield a
nd Isobel, but I have enjoyed a few good books recently.”
“That’s lovely, Cece,” her father said kindly. He had never been much of a reader himself, but had always supported his daughter’s love of books.
“How are things at home, Papa?” she asked, changing the subject to something more comfortable for him.
“Things at home are well!” He replied, happily. “Davey is turning out to be a good apprentice, quite as skilled as…”
Cecilia averted her eyes and cleared her throat at the near mention of Archie.
“Er…much better than my previous apprentice in fact, as he shows no signs of being a madman!” he said.
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