How to Wed an Earl

by Ivory Lei

  Penelope kissed his neck, making him groan. “Lucas?”

  “Yes, nymph?”

  “I have never done this with anyone before.”

  He nearly choked on his laugh. “I know.”

  “But I have seen animals mate. At the farm.”

  He lifted his head to stare at her flushed face. She said the damnedest things.

  “What I mean to say is, now that we are doing this to make babies, would you require me to be lying on my front or on all fours?”

  His hands stopped their roving for a second as he considered how the hell he was supposed to reply to her question. And then he cupped her face between his hands. “We’ll go with what feels right when the time comes.”

  “But I want to — ”

  He captured the rest of her words with his mouth. He kissed her gently, wanting to reassure her. But when she slid her tongue against his bottom lip, he let her have what she wanted as the desire that had been building between them since the moment they met exploded.

  Growling deep in his throat, he lifted her up against him, wrapping her legs about his waist, then carried her over to the soft bed and gently laid her against the satin sheets.

  Penelope watched as he took off his dark silk dressing gown, baring himself as he stood by the foot of the bed. She kneeled on the bed, getting closer to him, her eyes riveted on his fully aroused body.

  Perhaps his size was scaring her. He decided to confront the problem head on.

  “Would you like to touch me?” His voice sounded gravelly to his own ears.

  “Like this?” she asked as she innocently gripped him in her tight little fist, torturing him.

  “Christ, yes,” he rasped out. He held her hand, showing her how to please him.

  She put her lips to the flat planes of his belly, and he almost came right then. He forced himself to hold back, determined to let her have her way with him. Who would have guessed this sweet country girl would be so uninhibited in bed? And she was his. Entirely, exclusively his. Lucas exulted at the thought.

  He couldn’t take the torture long. “Enough,” he said, shrugging off her hand. “This night is for you, nymph.”

  “But, I like — ”

  “I know,” he ground out. “I like it, too. But if I let you go on any longer, the night will be over before it’s even begun.”

  He captured her mouth again, drinking in the joy of her as his hands went beneath the flimsy lace that was her nightgown, touching her bare skin. She moaned and pressed herself against him.

  “What do you want, love?”

  Penelope’s eyes filled with an emotion he did not entirely understand. “I want you to see me,” she said softly. The statement was filled with longing and a wealth of meaning he could not grasp.

  She slowly unhooked the front fastenings of her nightgown, letting it whisper down her body and lie in a pool of lace atop the bed sheets around her feet. He closed his eyes as his cock hardened to stone. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. No stockings, no chemise, no drawers … nothing. Christ, this was going to be a long night.

  Penelope stood on the bed, the fire from the hearth silhouetting her form. She was a vision from his dreams as she looked down on him.

  “I want you to finally see me, the way no one else ever has,” she said as she laid her hands on his shoulders, easing the tension in the muscles there with her fingers.

  He buried his face in her soft belly, inhaling her scent. “I see you, sweetheart.” His hands roved over her buttocks and thighs, marveling at the endless smoothness of her skin as he spread kisses down her navel.

  “Lucas!” she gasped when his mouth found the damp, glistening curls between her legs. The scent of her arousal filled his head.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” He cupped her in his hand, looking for her core and then finding it.

  He stroked her gently, tracing every fold and curve until his fingers were slick with her moisture. She was perfect. She started to make faint, gasping sounds, and her hands bit into his back.

  “So responsive,” he whispered against her skin. “So eager.”

  With one last kiss to the curve of her waist, he pulled her to him and laid her in the middle of the bed, following her down, then he leaned up to take in her full, wonderful body. He needed her to relax. “Look at me, Penelope.”

  • • •

  Penelope opened her eyes and touched her hand to his hard cheek as he hungrily gazed at her naked form. She could see his need, the barely restrained passion blazing in his midnight eyes, and she gloried in it. In this, at least, they were equal. Lucas may not care for her the way she did for him, but tonight he seemed as desperate.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you like this,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands claiming her. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  There was no chance to reply as his mouth claimed hers again in a fierce, devouring kiss that she met with enthusiasm. He was making her feel so wanted and needed, and he spread pleasure with every touch of his hand down her body.

  One of his hands cupped her breast, and another rested on the curls between her legs. His tongue stroked inside her mouth in tandem with his hand kneading her breast and his finger moving on the incredibly sensitive nub he’d found at her core. She jerked against him, overwhelmed with the sensations rioting through her as his hand plumped her breast, circling the nipple, and his finger relentlessly caressed her center in ever-quickening circles.

  She kissed him back with all the desperation she felt. She was riding a wave of tension, she felt herself tightening, raining moisture as his finger stroked faster, firmer. She sighed against his mouth and she sucked his tongue, his bottom lip, needing something she did not know if she could have.

  “Lucas!” she gasped as he released her mouth to bury kisses down the length of her neck.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” he said as he nibbled on her collarbone.

  His finger was driving her mad; her legs started to quiver as she opened herself wider, arching her hips to get more of his amazing caresses. And then she felt a broad finger slide deep inside her. She moaned then, unable to stop herself from thrusting her hips to meet him.

  She clung to his shoulders, kissed any part of him she could reach, wanting to reciprocate the incredible feelings he ignited with his skillful hand as he slid another finger inside her and stroked her core more firmly. She moved with his hand, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, reaching for the peak she knew was just beyond her reach. And with one last push, she went past it, crying out as she climaxed, and streaks of the purest pleasure washed over her.

  His fingers gentled, guiding her as she drifted back to earth slowly, feeling his lips nuzzling her breasts. She cupped his head to drag it back up to hers, and blazing onyx eyes met her dazed ones. She pressed against his hand and he groaned, gripping her hip to still her movements. “You will be the death of me, Penelope.”

  She smiled and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “I want more.”

  He lifted his head. There was a primitive look in his eyes as he stared at her. She pulled him back to her, angling his head for her kiss as she said softly, “Make me yours tonight, Lucas.”

  A deep groan tore from his chest as he leaned over her, his big frame shuddering at the contact of their skin, and then his kiss was blatant and carnal, his tongue driving deep, making her open her mouth wider as heat built inside her again. His hands slid down every curve of her body, his touch almost rough with his urgency.

  He tore his mouth from hers to follow the path of his hands, and then his lips were at her breasts, making them ache as he sucked first one straining nipple and then the other. She clutched his head against her breast, offering herself to him as her body arched to meet his seeking mouth.

 
“I love the way you respond to me,” he said, his voice harsh as he slid between her thighs, parting them wide. She felt his hardness against the damp curls at her center and she moaned as he rubbed himself against her most sensitive part. “I love the sounds you make, the way you get so wet … ”

  Suddenly, he slid down and his face was just above the place he was rubbing with his body. She could feel his harsh breathing against her. Dear God, what was he doing? She swallowed her embarrassment when she felt his fingers opening her, exposing her most private part to his eager gaze.

  “Do you like it when I touch you here, Penelope?”

  He slid a finger down her middle. His mouth was so close to her core, she felt his words against it.

  She was barely able to answer. “Yes.”

  She looked down at him and had to close her eyes against the erotic sight of his dark head hovering there between her legs.

  “God, Lucas … ”

  He muffled a laugh against the inside of her thigh. “I want to taste you, Penelope. Please, let me taste you.” He put his head back where it was, so close against her moist flesh.

  She lifted her hips to meet his mouth, giving herself to him. It was all the permission he required. His fingers opened her and his mouth swooped down, kissing her in the most intimate way imaginable. She could do no more than grip the sheets and enjoy as his tongue tasted her damp folds, finding every secret crevice. She sighed, loving the feel of his lips against her. It was like when he caressed her with his fingers, except better. More intense. And then his tongue found the swollen peak of her sex, and she was lost.

  Her fingers clenched in his hair, and she felt his growl of approval as he continued to lash at her in quickening circles and his fingers teased at her wet entrance. She felt the wave ride her again as he worshipped her with his mouth and fingers until she was writhing against him, pressing herself against his wicked mouth, which had become the center of her world. He sucked at a particularly sensitive spot and suddenly she was climaxing again, riding the violent wave as it crashed onto shore.

  Her body was still racked with tremors when Lucas kissed his way up her body and she felt him press his heavy, aroused length against the place where his mouth and hands had just been.

  He surged into her tight entrance in smooth, short strokes, his passage eased by the damp wetness she rained down on him. When he reached the shield of her virginity, he stopped. “Penelope?”

  She opened eyes and shifted her hips, making him groan as he kept himself still. “Do you know what’s going to happen now, sweetheart?”

  She smiled. “I’m going to be yours.”

  Another groan tore from his chest, and he kissed her, swallowing her cry of pain as he gave one fierce thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped, kissing her cheeks, her closed eyes, her temples. “I had to do it, sweetheart. I am so sorry. God, you are so tight.”

  “It wasn’t so bad.”

  He lifted his head to stare at her. She cupped his cheek in her palm and he turned to kiss it, moving a little as he did so.

  “Do that again.”

  He grinned. “This?” he swiveled his hips once more.

  She cried out. “Yes!”

  He growled his answer. “With pleasure.” And he started moving against her, retreating almost all the way out and slowly thrusting back in, giving her body time to adjust to his size.

  He kissed her again, his mouth gentle as he rocked against her.

  Sliding a hand between them, he started stoking the fire in her until she relaxed, and she pressed against him, her body matching his movements.

  “Like that, Lucas. Harder.”

  Lucas groaned and gave her what they both wanted. She felt his body throb as he thrust deeper, harder into her. She sighed her pleasure against his ear. She pressed herself against him and his thrusts became more urgent as he drove into her in hard, demanding strokes.

  They moved in unison as heat flared between them and they were both gasping for breath. He tugged her knees up higher to pound against the very heart of her. She gasped his name as they moved faster and harder, racing for the edge together.

  “You’re mine now, nymph,” he said hoarsely as sweat dampened his forehead.

  “Yes, I’m yours, Lucas … I’ve always been yours.”

  “Mine … mine … ” He said again and again as he thrust powerfully into her, filling her completely.

  Suddenly she tightened around him, crying out his name as she convulsed beneath him. He thrust deeply one last time and followed her into oblivion, pouring himself into her. When he finally collapsed against her, she cupped his face in her hands.

  “You are mine now, too,” she whispered.

  She felt him shudder, then he rolled onto his back and held her tight. She laid in his arms, and waited for his reply, but the silence between them remained unbroken.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It’s impolite to ignore your sister-in-law, Olivia,” Lucinda Milthorpe, who insisted on being called Aunt Lucy, advised.

  Olivia was reading a book, sitting across Penelope in the luxurious Ravenstone town coach as it made its swaying journey toward Oxford Street.

  Penelope sighed. It had been her idea to take Olivia on a shopping expedition, hoping they could get to know each other better.

  “Lady Olivia isn’t ignoring me, Aunt Lucy,” she retorted. “She is ignoring both of us.”

  Olivia started. She closed her book with an audible snap. “Forgive me. I didn’t intend to be so rude.”

  She met Olivia’s familiar midnight gaze. “I would like to say how welcome you have made me feel during the two days we’ve known each other, Lady Olivia.”

  Olivia gave her an uncertain look. “Thank you, Lady Ravenstone.”

  “However,” she continued, “as we both know, it would be a complete and utter lie.”

  Aunt Lucy released a horrified gasp.

  “I … I’m not certain how to behave,” Olivia admitted, following Penelope’s example of bluntness. “I’ve never had a sister before, my lady.”

  She smiled. “First of all,” she said gently, so the younger woman would realize she meant no offense, “sisters don’t call each other ‘my lady.’ May I simply call you Olivia?”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Good. And you should refer to me as Lady Ravenstone.”

  “If it pleases you, Lady Ravenstone.”

  “I’m joking! Call me Penelope,” she said with a laugh.

  Olivia gave a tentative smile. “All right. Penelope.”

  “Well!” Aunt Lucy remarked, “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? It’s depressing how polite Society insists on being so formal with their own families. It must have something to do with being in Town.”

  The elderly woman shook her head in a severe manner. “I feel I must warn you, Penelope, the London air is not healthy for people. Why, I’ve noticed since Olivia and I returned from Ravenstone — that’s your husband’s principal estate, by the way; it is located in Surrey. Such a grand and marvelous place, so much quieter than my nephew’s townhouse. You remember I told you about my nephew, Lord Westville? Well, there’s always some sort of debauched, manly amusement going on in his house. It will give you the ague — well, since returning from Ravenstone … what was I talking about, dear?”

  Penelope gave Olivia a conspiratorial grin. “You were telling us about London.”

  Aunt Lucy brightened. “Ah, yes. London. It will give you the ague.”

  Olivia smiled apologetically. “Aunt Lucy often suffers from illness.”

  “I wouldn’t be plagued with so many illnesses if it weren’t for the unhealthy London air! I believe it’s the thick, impenetrable fog that kills. It will give you — ”

  “The ague!” the
y chorused.

  Aunt Lucy blinked. “We’ve stopped. We must have arrived. Let me handle my modiste, dear. She is very exclusive, but a more annoying woman I have never met. She talks incessantly … ”

  Aunt Lucy kept up her chatter while a footman helped the ladies alight. She led the way through Oxford Street, complaining about the London air.

  “Good Lord,” Penelope whispered to Olivia. “Is she always like this?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Olivia shot her another apologetic look. “I’m very glad to have someone else to talk to now.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she replied.

  “Can we visit a bookshop after the modiste’s? I’m almost finished with my book, and I’d like to purchase another.”

  “That sounds divine,” she agreed. “I should like to buy books for my stepfamily. My siblings love to read, too.”

  “We shall go to Hatchard’s,” Olivia decided. “They have a little of everything in there.”

  Penelope noticed how the elegant London shoppers were giving them a wide berth.

  “What is wrong with everyone?” she asked Olivia.

  Olivia looked around them with a solemn expression. “They recognize Aunt Lucy. Everyone knows she is playing chaperon to Raving Ravenstone’s sister.”

  “Don’t ever call yourself that again.”

  “Everyone else does,” Olivia sadly pointed out.

  “Not everyone,” she insisted when she noticed a familiar face. “I see my friend, Mari, exiting the milliner’s. Let me introduce you to her.”

  “But, Aunt Lucy — ”

  “Won’t notice if we’re gone for a few seconds,” she assured her sister-in-law. “She is too busy yammering about the dangers of the London air.”

  She dragged Olivia with her as they hurried to Mari’s side. After the introductions were made, it was decided that Mari would join them at the modiste’s, as Penelope was not an expert when it came to fashion and she trusted Mari’s opinion.

  Once inside, Penelope was thankful for Mari’s presence, for Aunt Lucy had complained of a headache and ensconced herself on a sofa in the shop’s corner. There were fabrics of every imaginable make, colorfully laid out on every available space of the shop, fashion plates suggesting ensembles were artfully arranged in strategic spots, and a very haughty modiste, Madame Claude, suggested styles of which Penelope had never heard. The only thing she couldn’t find in the shop was the sign indicating how much the services were.