“What should we talk about then?” Abby asked though she was fairly certain she knew what his answer would be. The lazy strokes of his hands, soothing at first, had taken on a very different tone. They had become more insistent, more deliberately arousing. Even as the thought entered her mind, his hands were sliding over her ribs and up to her breasts.
“I don’t think we should talk at all,” he said. “I want to make love to you, and regardless of any nervousness you may feel, I believe you want that too.”
There was no denying it. He was right. She had wanted him the night before, when the Gray Lady had warned them, before they had rescued Sarah. After watching the way he had cared for Sarah—his gentleness with her, his fierce anger at what had happened to her—Abby only wanted him more.
With a boldness that surprised them both, she turned in his arms, coming to face him, and pressed her lips against his. It was the first time she had ever initiated a kiss between them, and while her efforts were slightly clumsy, they were also greatly appreciated.
Michael’s response was immediate. He claimed her mouth hungrily in return; tasting and teasing her until they were both breathless. His clever hands were at her breasts, delving beneath the thin fabric of the simple shirt she wore.
The sensation of his fingertips moving so skillfully over her tender flesh, cupping and shaping the softness of her breasts while artfully teasing the furled peaks, had her straining toward him. She cried out softly, the sound lost in a kiss.
When he pulled his mouth from hers, and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses over her neck and down to her breasts, she moaned. Her hands threaded into the silken hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to her. The intensity of her desire for him, the rapid ascent of passion should have frightened her. It would have frightened her had she not been robbed entirely of the ability to think. She could do nothing but feel and revel in the sensual onslaught.
He was determined, an army of ghosts could march through the room, and he wouldn’t care or stop. He was no longer capable of stopping. He had never desired a woman the way he desired Abigail, and the interrupted lovemaking from the night before had left him on the edge of madness.
With lips, teeth, and tongue he teased her breasts to aching attention. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive peaks, first one then the other, before suckling them in turn, it only stoked the fire that raged in her. Every touch inflamed her until she was arching up to meet him, desperate to be even closer to him.
The shirt she’d worn was pushed down her shoulders, over her arms until it bunched at her waist. He tugged it down, over her hips, then off of her entirely. When he tossed it aside, she was left completely nude. Everywhere he touched; she blazed. His body was hot and hard, the muscles bunching beneath her hands as they roamed over his back, his sides.
When her hands stroked his chest, tangling in the springy hair, he groaned. Recognizing it as a sound of pleasure, she continued her exploration. Her fingers grazed the flat, coppery discs of his nipples, and he hissed her name between clenched teeth before claiming her mouth again. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her thighs, it excited her as much as it frightened her
She felt his hands on the inside of her thighs, and she opened for him immediately. His hand moved over the mound of her sex, possessively. But his touch was gentle when he parted the slick folds and began to touch her intimately. His fingers danced over her with skill, leaving her breathless and gasping. When he pressed deeper, his fingers sliding into her tight sheath, she uttered his name on a breathless sigh.
Michael was near the breaking point. His control had never been so tested. His erection had hardened to the point of pain, and all he wanted was to sink into the silken heat of her body and ease himself. In spite of her passionate response, and the glorious wetness that had greeted his questing fingers, he knew that she wasn’t truly ready.
With that in mind, he moved a second finger inside her, she moaned at the increased pressure. The sound dragged at his nerves, spiking his desire even further. With his fingers pressing deeply inside her, readying her, he moved so that his thumb pressed against the small, hardened bud that was the center of her pleasure. He circled it slowly, then began to stroke it slowly. Every sigh, every breathless moan that escaped her softly parted, kiss-swollen lips ratcheted his own desire to even higher levels.
When she moved her hips against him, countering the rhythm of his hand, he simply could not wait any longer. He parted her knees, sliding his body between the sweet haven of her thighs. She tensed beneath him, but offered no protests. Michael kissed her neck, tugged at the lobe of her ear with his teeth, before uttering a whispered command, “Open for me, sweet.”
She shifted slightly, her knees parting further as she opened to him, welcomed him. He teased her again, parting the soft folds, and then he guided himself into her, parting her damp flesh. She had tensed against him though, clearly not quite ready for the next step.
Her slightly widened eyes were her only indication of alarm. She didn’t make a sound but bit her lip. He knew she was in pain, that he was hurting her, but he also knew that there was no other option, or at least not an option he could accept. “How familiar are you with what’s supposed to happen?”
Abby shivered, “I know enough…It’s just that you are larger than I expected.”
Michael felt his pulse leap in response, felt his member harden further. “That can actually be a benefit,” he said.
She raised her eyebrow, “I wouldn’t know.”
He smiled at her. “You will.”
He inserted his hand between them, touching her where they were joined. Each stroke of his skilled fingers over the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her cleft eased his passage. The liquid heat that answered his touch resulted in her body softening, easing to allow him to sink deeper inside her.
With a fervent prayer of thanks that she had relented, he surged forward. When he encountered the small barrier of her hymen, he breached it quickly. He had always thought delaying the process could only make it more painful. Her startled cry and the tension that gripped her told him that he had hurt her. He forced himself to still, to allow her time to acclimate to the intimacy of their joined bodies. She moved beneath him, and he clenched his teeth. “Please, for the love of God, be still… just for a moment, Abby, be still.”
Abby hadn’t anticipated that it would hurt quite so much. She’d been told that it would be painful the first time, had heard as much from Lavinia, but Lavinia lied about so many things. Apparently in that one instance, she had been uncharacteristically truthful. She did try to remain still, but the sensations were so foreign. Gradually, the discomfort began to fade, leaving in its wake the sensation of fullness, of feeling her body stretched to accommodate him, filled with the part of him that was such a mystery to her.
Michael felt her relax beneath him, the tension fading from her body. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks, as his control had stretched to beyond the breaking point. He kissed her then, touching his lips to hers with a gentleness that belied the raging desire he felt. He stroked his lips over hers, coaxing.
He flexed his hips, moving within her as gently as he could, though the effort cost him dearly. He wanted nothing more than to sink fully into her heat, to lose himself in the softness of her. The soft sigh that escaped her was the sweetest of rewards for his restraint. She brought her knees up, cradling him in the haven of her thighs. He gloried in her response--the soft flush of her skin, her lips parted on a low moan. He trailed his lips along her neck, over the swell of her breast, before closing his lips over the furled peak.
Every stroke of his tongue over her flesh, every pull of his mouth, elicited some response from her. Soft sighs. Hoarse cries. The arching of her back or the thrust of her hips. He cataloged every response, committing to memory everything that incited her passion.
Michael reveled in her powerful response, in every tremble and breathless cry. Instinctively, she had locked he
r legs around his hips. Her hands curved over his shoulders, and when her nails dug into his skin, he felt triumphant. He wanted to see her pleasure, to see her face as she cried out with her release. He moved his hips, driving into her more forcefully, going deeper into the welcoming heat of her body. She was like liquid fire around him, hot and tight, engulfing him.
With his hand still between them, he moved his fingers quickly, driving her to the edge until she was gasping and shivering beneath him. Her heels pressed into his back as she raised her hips, taking him even deeper. An oath escaped him, as sweat beaded on his skin. His own release threatened. He simply couldn’t wait. The familiar ache settled in, the heat and tension finally bursting through him, as he poured himself into her.
Abby felt the heat, the rush of his seed inside her. He thrust a few more before he stilled, and she felt a vague sense of disappointment. That elusive something remained just out of reach, unknown to her. It wasn’t entirely disappointing. For the most part, it had felt incredible. There had been a few brief moment of discomfort, but it had paled in comparison to everything else. Still, she felt there was more.
Michael withdrew from her; his body spent and lax. He had never left a partner unsatisfied, that the one woman whom he had not brought to shattering release was his own wife was not a fact to be borne. On legs that shook, he rose from the bed, withdrawing from the blissful warmth of her body and moved to the washbasin. He returned with a damp cloth and gently began to clean the blood from her thighs. There wasn’t much, for which he was thankful.
“You needn’t—It’s embarrassing,” she protested, placing a stilling hand on his wrist.
He kissed her, “We are far from finished, my sweet. Let me take care of you.”
Distracting her with kisses, he moved the cloth between her legs, parting the slick folds that bore the evidence of their mutual desire. With a remarkably gentle touch, he washed away what remained of her virgin’s blood. The cool, damp cloth eased the tenderness from their first joining.
Discarding the cloth, Michael returned to her and took her in his arms. He kissed her gently, stroked her breasts with a slow, easy motion that once again had heat pooling in her belly. When his hand slid between her thighs, she parted them eagerly, welcoming his touch. But as his mouth slid from hers, to brandish a trail of heat from her neck to her breasts, then over her ribs, she began to panic. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, knowing that the words would shock her and effectively end their sensual exploration. “What I should have done first, had I not been in such a hurry,” he said simply, providing an answer that was not an answer at all. He dipped his head, brushing kisses over the thatch of dark curls. She attempted to clamp her thighs together, but he had positioned himself firmly between them, preventing her from closing herself to him. He moved lower, nuzzling the cleft of her sex, the warmth of his breath stirring the embers of her earlier desire.
Michael trailed his fingers over her the damp folds of her sex, gently parting them. She was utterly perfect. Her pink flesh glistened with desire, and every contour beckoned to him. He kissed her, pressing his lips against her, tracing an erotic pattern over her damp sex. The salty-sweet taste of her was like ambrosia as he mapped every curve. Greedy for her, he teased the hardened bud with his tongue, flicking gently, then with greater pressure and speed.
He had stolen her breath, and Abby lay back on the bed, gasping under the ministry of his skilled mouth. She was climbing again, the pleasure tugging her higher and higher. When she felt his hot mouth close over the most sensitive part of her, pulling gently, suckling her, she screamed. Her body seemed to shatter as the tension that had built inside her exploded into exquisite pleasure. It washed through her body, flooding her senses. Her body pulsed and clenched, her thighs trembling beneath his hands, her breasts heaving as she fought to regain her breath.
He pressed kisses against the velvety soft skin of her inner thighs, and then her belly, as he moved back up. He kissed her, and she eagerly accepted him.
Against all probability, his body had hardened again while he’d brought her to shuddering release. It was the most natural thing in the world to fit himself between her thighs, and to slide deeply into her again. She was wet and hot, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of her first orgasm. With slow, gentle thrusts, he brought her to her second.
Chapter Nine
The night of the house party had arrived, and with it, a surprise. Michael had instructed the dressmaker in the village to send something for Abby, and when the dress had arrived, she had taken it upstairs to put it on, after only a token protest. From the cut of her gowns and the pale colors, he knew it had been some time since she’d had a new gown.
The gift had been somewhat selfish. He wanted to see her in something other than pale, worn gowns suited to a much younger woman and one of much lower station. He also wanted to see her beaming with confidence when she faced Lavinia on more equal footing.
When she came downstairs, after what seemed an eternity, she wore a gown of deep, crimson velvet, and her dark hair had been pinned back in a loose chignon. Several tendrils curled over her shoulder, drawing attention to the lush bounty of her cleavage. Lavinia was a classic beauty, but Abigail was by far the more arresting of the two.
Seeing her outfitted so beautifully, her lush figure displayed to perfection, he wanted to show her off. On the other hand, he did not want to take her back into the den of iniquity that was Wilhaven. It was necessary, though, and he knew it. They needed answers that could only be found there, and she was safer with him than left alone at Blagdon Hall. He didn’t trust Lavinia’s purpose in inviting them, and he didn’t trust Rupert at all.
“You look beautiful,” he said. It wasn’t the sort of flowery prose he would have used in the drawing rooms and ballrooms of London. Of course, Abigail was the type to appreciate a more direct approach. If there was one thing he had learned about her, it was that she tended to speak plainly.
“Sarah did my hair…I told her that she should rest, but she insisted that she needed to begin earning her keep,” Abby said, a blush stealing over her cheeks. “Stop looking at me that way.”
“What way?” he asked.
“As if I’m not wearing this dress at all!”
He smiled, unable to feel any remorse at that. Abigail in her naked glory was a sight that he would always treasure and revisit in his mind, and the flesh, as frequently as possible. But taking pity on her, he changed the subject. “Feeling useful will be good for Sarah, I think. Having too much time to think can sometimes make things more difficult.”
Clearly relieved by the change of subject, she smiled as she approached him. “Let us go and see what we can discover. I have no wish to remain long under Lavinia’s roof.”
Michael seconded that thoroughly as he handed her up into the small gig. His own carriage and driver had not yet arrived from London. The manservant, whose name he still did not know.,had managed to hitch the horse to the small conveyance as requested. That was improvement, he supposed, given the lackluster performance of the servants to date.
Their bags had been taken to Wilhaven earlier in the day. They were only staying for one night, possibly two. Michael only needed to be there long enough to search the house under cover of darkness. “Be very careful tonight. Stay with a large group of guests, neither Rupert nor Lavinia can be given an opportunity to get you alone.”
Abby shuddered in distaste. “The same can be said for you… Lavinia will not forgive your rejection of her easily, and if they are responsible for what happened to Sarah, then they have much more to lose than previously thought.”
“I can handle them. I only have a few questions I need answered. I should be able to gather the information I need while everyone else is abed.”
“Be careful, please. There are so many things happening here right now that I've never experienced; the attack on Sarah, the secret gatherings in the woods. The Gray Lady has never been so active, to my knowl
edge, and she only appears at all in times of extreme danger,” Abby said.
The ghost had been making almost nightly appearances. She’d been seen pacing the breadth of the hallway, staring through the window to the woods beyond. When Sarah had heard people speaking of the ghost, she'd been near frightened to death. Abby had explained to the girl that the spirit was a benevolent one and was largely responsible for her having been rescued at all.
She hated to think of what would have become of the girl had they not discovered her so quickly after her ordeal. While her injuries had not been horribly severe, a night in the cold damp grass would likely have caused a lung ailment that would have taken her life, never mind the shock of what she had been through.
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” Michael said, wisely. “There are any number of people in the area who could be responsible. I can’t imagine that Lavinia would be overly burdened by the need to hide anything.”
“You’re right of course. She was always shockingly brazen about her proclivities. She’s grown more so since her marriage to Rupert. In one respect, they seem to be perfect for one another, on the other hand, they seem to also bring out the very worst in one another.”
Michael kissed her, “I fear we will have the opposite problem. You will not accept anything but the best of me, and I imagine that you will be quite adamant in getting it.”
She laughed, “Why do I have the feeling we are talking about very different things?”
His answering grin was wicked. He trailed his hands over the column of her throat, his thumbs grazing over a pulse that skittered slightly. The expanse of bare skin beckoned to him, and it would be a shame, he thought, to cover it. But she should have jewelry. Her new gown called for it, and her new station demanded it.
“Perhaps we should go to London. We need to get you a more suitable wardrobe and open the family coffers. There is a diamond and sapphire set that would look stunning with this gown. They would look even more stunning when I’ve stripped everything from you but the jewels.”
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