by Gayle Eden
“Forgive me,” he said with a bit of seriousness. “I was rougher than I intended.”
“No. You were not. You were perfect.”
He put his arm around her under the coat as they entered the woodlands. “You need to be made love to more often. You are an intense and passionate woman. You will stay satisfied with me. But I have a balm for your…aches, today.”
She shook her head and glanced up at the sky, obviously hiding another blush.
Hearing his chuckle as she murmured, “You are in a rascally mood.”
“A lover’s mood,” he confessed. “God, yes. I like the sound of that. I like the whole idea of being your lover.”
They walked for some time, enjoying the earthy scents and scenery. Alexander found a spot by the stream to have his smoke later, handing her a flask of coffee, she sipped and handed back.
Sonja strolled a bit up stream, simply enjoying the out of doors. When she went back to him, he had finished both the cheroot and the flask.
Alexander reached up and drew her down between his legs. Arms around her, he nuzzled her cheek and ear in a teasing way that made her laugh. Relaxing back against him with a sigh, his own back against a thick trunk, they sat comfortably like that for an hour that went by in swift pleasantry.
Sonja was watching the stream when he cupped her cheek and turned her face to him. Once he started kissing her, she was conscious of little else. Dropping his hand, once hers reached up to caress his face, he undid the buttons on her blouse.
Even when the kiss stopped, he leaned her back, head resting on his shoulder while his hands under the coat massaged her breasts. He caressed them and rubbed the nipples, played there, with lover’s hands in an unhurried way.
It aroused her. Sonja’s back arched. She sighed and rolled her head a couple of times to caress his jaw with her lips.
Her breasts were generous. He handled them well, raising them, lifting upwards, fingers splayed and gently squeezing. He kept the nipples tingling. The next time he turned her for a kiss, he leaned so that his hand cupped between her legs, messaging carefully, pleasantly.
They were both aroused however when he lifted his head and whispered, “Shall we go home?”
“Yes.”
He helped her stand, then fixed her shirt and they walked to the manor, this time, not so conscious of anything save their inward excitement and arousal.
Alexander took her to his rooms, shadowed in deep hues, yet warmed by a low burning fire.
She had the impression of big windows, deep red wood furnishings, velvet and silk, satin on the bed, dark wood floors. Honestly as he stripped her first, Sonja cared only about seeing him, feeling him. He stripped only to his trousers and after laying her on the bed, rolled her to her stomach. She trembled, sighed, moaned as he began to kiss her from her feet to her head, stroking her skin in an unhurried way, caressing just right.
Sonja breathed his scent from the fluffy coverlet, eyes half-mast, watching warm firelight play on the walls with her arms folded to cushion her head.
His attention to her upper back caused her to close her eyes. He traced every line and scar, and kissed it, bathed the marred flesh with his tongue. Alexander rolled her over. Before he could start the journey again, she cupped his face and kissed him, deep, full of emotions.
When she loosed him, his lavender eyes looked into hers. “You are beautiful, Sonja. Exquisite. The most beautiful creature, on earth.” Planting small kisses over her face, he stroked her again.
Sonja moaned, arched, deeply moved and stirred by him. He was soon at her feet again, starting his journey upwards, caressing, kissing, and driving her mad. He had the fire so hot inside her, that when she realized his mouth was on her sex, Sonja whispered, urged him; she needed him to take her higher, to keep doing what he was doing.
Alexander did it well. His lips, tongue, skilled and drawing it out, taking her beyond pleasure. He touched and laved, suckled at the nerves and softly thrust his tongue in her, until she was aching and slick. When she climaxed, Sonja gasped his name on a deep moan, her body stilling, and then shuddering on waves of heat.
An hour later, she turned to him and eyed his face in repose, his slight grin. He knew he had done well and she did not mind him knowing it.
Leisurely getting to her knees, she began unlatching his trousers. He was helpful. When he was bare to her gaze, she took his sex in her hand, leaning over to kiss him whilst stroking him lovingly.
Alexander caressed her breasts, her buttocks, whispering, murmuring his pleasure.
It excited her to pleasure him, and over his faint admonishment that she did not have to do more than touch him, she began to kiss his throat and chest, making her way downward to take him in her mouth.
“Christ, love. You will kill me.”
She did not, at least not literally, but Sonja liked his taste and feel, his musky scent, and she did it sensually, making him reach his climax with his hands buried in her hair, his legs trembling.
Sometime, in that early evening, they shared a bath. It was a time of soft kisses, exploring visually as well as petting, a lover’s affection in every skim and touch. An intimate closeness was there. She felt it. She was aware that Alexander did too.
He was a man in every sense of the word. He made her feel like a woman to her soul. He left no doubt that he loved her body, and after the bath, he sat by the fire, drying and brushing her hair until it was in soft waves, holding her against him when done, in silent companionship.
He left sometime afterwards to fetch a tray. Time was hardly significant however, and after eating, they went to the bed and slept, clear through that night.
* * * *
The next morning, Alexander did not panic, noting she was not in his bed. He refreshed and dressed then went to her rooms.
She had breakfasted from the tray that now rested on a small table and was seated on the window bench. The shutters were wide, and though she had her hair beautifully done up in braided ropes, two fat curls down her back, and she wore a rich wine silk gown, her bare feet were on the bench too.
It aroused him wonderfully. Those creamy, feminine feet, bare, with all the rest of her done to perfection. Yes, he mused, this woman was meant for him. He felt in his bones, he was meant for her, too.
“Christmas,” he announced, coming over and joining her, nudging room for himself behind her, so that she could lounge partly back in his arms. The air was cool on his still damp hair, but it felt good.
“Christmas?”
“Marry me, Christmas Morning. With everyone here. Everyone we love.”
She went from looking at him, to gazing outside.
Alexander stroked her arm. “Tonight, I will make love to you, slowly, exquisitely. I will lay you under me and go inside of your beautiful body. You will be sleek and hot, and welcome me. And I’ll move inside of you, until we feel no end of ourselves.”
A shuddering breath escaped her. “It sounds… like heaven.”
“It will feel, better than that, I promise.”
Sonja covered his stroking hand a moment. “Be sure, Alexander. Be very sure. We can wait. We can remain lovers only. I have no objection.”
“I am sure, my dear.” His lips brushed her ear. He arose and regarded her a long moment, leaning his shoulder against the casing, facing her. “What is amiss? Talk to me, Sonja.”
“It is nothing. I mean, well, now that we are lovers, I give you the option… of withdrawing the marriage offer.”
“I see.” He crossed his arms, thinking long before he murmured, “It is around the lunch hour, I think. Will you meet me in the study?”
She looked confused but nodded.
Alexander pulled away from the wall and kissed her brow before leaving.
He was behind his desk when she entered the study some time later.
He flipped open a teak box and withdrew the paper in it. “There is the marriage license I acquired more than a year ago.” Looking up at her, he slid it toward her. Then
he picked up another small box inside. “Here is the ring I picked out for you, with Edmund, in my company.”
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the paper, seal intact. When she read it and lay it aside, he watched her open the box with the ring and draw in a breath.
“Is it suitable?”
“Suitable.” She breathed, her eyes finding his. “It is exquisite.”
He released his own held breath, having only Edmund’s word that she would like onyx and small diamonds on her wedding ring. He would be wed, be a groom, for the first time. That he would be her husband—was beyond his dreams.
Alexander moved back enough to open the top drawer and withdraw a journal. He let it fall to the flat of the desk.
Her gaze lingered on it. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “That is most certainly personal…and private.”
He picked it up and released the latch, thumbing pages before he stopped, and then reading aloud in soft and deep tones: “I have been away from her only a scant week and I find myself pacing, sleepless, and restless. Every time I ask myself, should I speak? Dare I touch her; I feel a kind of madness that I should even want her this badly. I think of her, every moment of the day.
That night, in London, I was less distracted by Jo’s antics than by my own churning emotions. How many times did I catch myself watching her, the way she moves—or listening to her voice? Though she will be here soon, with Edmund and Alex, It cannot be soon enough for me.”
Alexander paused a moment and looked up at her, seeing her swallow, before he glanced down again and finished, “This sickness, this desire, this want in me, is something I have never felt before. Sonja. Her eyes haunt me with their half vulnerable, wholly aloof, expression. I want to hold her, heal her, and yet, my passion for her is endless.
This is not new. It merely grows stronger. From the moment I met her, I knew. I knew with no effort at all—she had stolen my heart.”
Alexander closed the book and put it back. He waited a beat then looked up. The last thing he expected was to see tears in her eyes. However, they were, silent, dripping, and tumbling over her cheeks like diamonds. Yet—she still looked the regal and graceful woman—her hair and gown so beautiful.
He felt his heart trip, tremble, and swiftly rose from his chair.
She embraced him closely, holding onto him so tightly he could not see her face.
He felt her trembling and soothed, spoke…he knew not what, but soothing and holding her, his heart aching now—from the tightness, she held him with, for those tears wetting his neck.
He knew she rarely, if ever, wept. He promised himself, that should she ever shed another, they would be but tears of joy.
How long they stood, he did not know, nor care. He held her and never felt so close to her, as he did in those moments.
“Yes,” he heard her whisper brokenly after some time. “Yes.”
Alexander appreciated what that answered. He released a heavy, unsteady breath.
* * * *
It would be later, in the night hours, when they were naked and joined, her hair spread around her, creamy body dewed on the silk sheets, and his sex stroking deep and slow, that she had no defenses up. From the first touch that she had moaned, sighed, touched him, and brought him to her with a whisper of need.
It was in the slow and deep fire, when his mind was heady with pleasure, and his body was afire from her arches and touches, her urging him deeper.
Alexander heard her cry out softly, “Thank you, thank you for loving me. For giving me this passion. Thank you… for not giving up, Alexander.”
Alexander managed, “It is my pleasure. You give me equal passion; never doubt it, my love.” He was thrusting deep, her nails biting into his flesh and her breath fast and thick.
Sonja whispered as if a prayer, “Let me live a lifetime over. Let me live long, to love you, as I never dared hope.”
It snapped his control. Alexander spilled himself deep inside of her body, his masculine frame trembling, shuddering, and mouth gasping for air.
When the world righted, Alexander let her up and refreshed himself. However, in the bed, later, holding her in the dark, he was still much moved by her words. So much so, he hid his damp eyes in the darkness, worked long moments trying to relax the muscles in his throat.
This was it. This was what he had missed. The void was filled somewhere in his heart and soul. It brimmed with a deep and aching love.
His fingers stroked her hair. Her cheek rested on his chest. She said, “Christmas will be perfect. But it will be difficult to be apart from you, for that many weeks.”
“Then stay. It will give society something to talk about this season.”
She rose on her elbow, and regarded him in the shadowy light. “It is not just us anymore. There are heirs. Your grandchildren.”
“— Who will hopefully not grow up with a skewed sense of marriage and relationships as the ton advocates.” He uttered dryly, “So their grandparent’s scandalized themselves and lived together? It is not as if my former rep won’t still be mentioned fifty years from now.”
She chuckled then gasped, “Oh, lord. I am Eddie’s aunt. I will also be his grandmother.”
He laughed, but covered it when she elbowed him, with a cough. “It doesn’t signify. Half the ton is connected by more complex blood than that.”
“True.”
Alexander arched his brow. “Do you think anyone who knows us, or me, at least, will be surprised. I assure you everyone knows—knew— a year or more ago, I was completely mad for you.”
She chewed her lip.
“But if it really matters to you. I will escort you to London and reside in my townhouse, you at Edmunds. We can sneak around like naughty children…”
Laughing, and then sighing, Sonja rested her head back down. “No. That sounds terribly silly.”
“Then stay. I will write to Edmund. We will announce the engagement to our family, my friends, who will be the only ones on the guest list. No one will think twice about it. I promise you, my daughters will be thrilled.”
He thought a moment then considered, “Do you want a special wedding gown made?”
“I have one.”
Alexander slowly sat up and turned to regard her this time. “You have a wedding dress?”
Her head on the pillow, Sonja bit her lip and then nodded, confessing, “Yes. I had it made years ago.”
“Why?” He searched her face carefully, tenderly.
She swallowed. “Because… of how I was wed, and the fact that Albert tore that gown nearly off me…I bled my innocence on it, in a way that was far beyond just my virginity.”
“My love…” He reached out and stroked her hair.
Sonja went on almost inaudibly, “I don’t believe I ever intended to wear it. It symbolized something likely, but I was only half-conscious of that at the time.
When I was having a London wardrobe made, I saw the cream satin, the velvet and pearls and found myself designing the pattern. I would go weekly and check on it. Sometimes I would sit and watch it being sewn. It was like…sewing my flesh—my soul—back together. Making the foul—untainted again. I don’t understand it exactly…”
Alexander leaned down and kissed her gently. Regarding her next, close enough to kiss her again, but didn’t, he murmured and struggled with the flex of his throat muscles again, “It makes perfect sense, to me.”
Sonja smiled, a little sad and bemused by that memory.
He shook his head seeing it, and told her, “When you don that gown and we take our vows, it will be the first time for us both. You will give yourself freely to me, and I, eagerly to you. We have a lifetime of joy and discovery yet, my love. When I bed my bride, I will worship your body until you’ve no doubt that this passion, comes from my heart.”
“Alexander…I cannot express how you move me.” Her thick voice was as emotional as her expression. “I cannot believe you are mine.”
“I am yours, forever yours, Sonja.” He le
aned down and kissed her passionately.
The mood, the emotions flowed and filled. It demanded the expression of touch and kisses. It was Sonja however, who moved her body over his, caressing, kissing, bathing him, with her need to know him, show him, from skin to soul.
She did not place limits or boundaries to loving every inch of him. She expressed herself freely. His responses and low growls, the moans and mutters of pleasure, intoxicated her. She brought him to his peak, and it thrilled and satisfied her in a unique way.
As he held her later, stroking her hair, she heard Alexander whisper her name, repeatedly. Her heart heard it. It knew him. It recognized him as her mate.
At dawn, whilst he slept soundly, Sonja crept from the bed, wrapped in a robe to go to his study. There, she took his journal and went to his chambers.
Sitting on his bed, with the lamp light up, Sonja found a blank page and wrote in it:
Dearest Alexander, how you just knew what I could not believe, is a wonder, a glorious wonder. How you found me, in the shadows of who I wanted to be, but could not become, is a miracle. How you loved me, knew me, understood me, is yet amazing.
Yet, my blood still sings from passion, my body at last feeling like my own feminine flesh—and is renewed by the splendor of joining with yours. My soul feels quickened from words spoken by your lips. My heart is…forever yours.
May love take us, on a wonderful journey, through a long life, and many happy moments. For I promise you, I will cherish every second of it with you at my side.
I give my heart, my body, my life to you freely and with indescribable happiness, Sonja.
She placed the journal on his pillow, and opened to the page. Later, she slipped back into the bed.
Alexander’s body was warm. She snuggled against him.
He murmured sleepily, “Your arse, my love, is colder than hoarfrost.” He began sweetly rubbing it.
She grinned, musing what a simple delight it was to be told that by him, in such an affectionate scold. Soon enough, his hand wondered. She was treated to a leisurely climax that melted her bones.
Legs tangled, bodies spooned, falling into sleep again, Sonja was in that hazy drifting realm, when he whispered, “Where were you?”