He’d laughed and caught her hands and given her a long, slow kiss, exploring her mouth and tongue at leisure, leaving her on fire with urgency. But he refused to be hurried, tormenting her by insisting that they undress each other slowly, garment by garment, he inspecting her after each unveiling as if she the sitter for a portrait he needed to view from just the right angle.
Though he teased her, letting his fingers trail down bare skin, placing little biting kisses on her shoulders, her elbows, the back of her knees as he unveiled them, he made no move to touch where her body cried out most for caressing—her breasts, heavy, turgid, the nipples puckered and aching, the tingling insides of her thighs and her already throbbing centre.
But, ah, after he’d bared her completely and held her at arm’s length, caressing her with his gaze until she whimpered with need, he’d led her to the bed and proceeded to fulfil his promise from the beach, kissing, licking, sucking and caressing her from the soles of her feet, her toes, up her legs. Then moving to her ear lobes, the hollow at her throat, her collarbones, and a long, lovely interval exploring her breasts and nipples with his mouth while, with a few caressing probes of his fingers inside her passage, he brought her to completion.
After holding her gasping, boneless, in his arms until her breathing calmed, he began again, moving his mouth downward from her breasts, his tongue burnishing the skin of her ribs, her belly, and ever lower, between her legs, where he outlined each ridge and fold with the tip of his tongue before pressing harder, nibbling, laving and suckling her to another shuddering climax.
Magnificently naked, he fetched wine from the sideboard and poured her a fortifying glass, cradling her in his arms until her limbs revived. After which, she kept her promise, exploring his body with the same thoroughness he’d explored hers, until with mouth and hands she brought him to satisfaction.
After another languid rest, he positioned her against the pillows and entered her, driving deep with a single thrust. Kissing her, he moved at first long and slow, then faster and faster, pressing her down into the softness until all she could feel was him, above her, around her, within her, possessing her completely, driving her to the edge of exquisite madness and over.
They slept then, Alyssa awaking to near-darkness and a sense of awe. He was right; pleasuring in a bed allowed for a closer, more complete union.
Even so, she wouldn’t have traded for anything that magical first time, discovering the full meaning of pleasure while the sea wind played over her body and the sound of crashing surf echoed in her ears, the wildness without mirroring the explosive release of the passion she’d kept trapped within.
How could she separate from him, after so complete a union?
But she wasn’t going to complicate this pure pleasure with doubt or worry. She would take this time together as a gift—and figure out what it meant for the future later.
The raucous ‘caw’ of gull flying overhead jolted her back to the present.
It was fortunate she’d made such good progress on her sketches earlier on this trip, she thought wryly, since she’d spent half today’s sketching excursion staring sightlessly into the distance, dreamily reliving the events of yesterday. Half-a-dozen plovers could have roosted beside her and she wouldn’t have noticed.
But since her quarry had not returned, she’d declare the day’s work finished, look for Ben—and claim another round of pleasure as soon as possible.
Heated anticipation coiling within her, she closed the sketchbook and shut the box of pastels. She was making her way out of the tangle of bushes when she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats—and smiled.
It appeared she wouldn’t have to seek out Ben. Perhaps he’d been thinking that returning from their expedition early was a good idea, too.
But the mounted figure that crested the headlands and trotted down the trail towards her wasn’t Ben—it was Lord Denbry.
Belatedly spotting her, he pulled up hard. ‘Well, well, Lady Alyssa! What are you doing here, in the back of beyond?’
She glanced down at her sketchbook and pastel box. ‘Drawing, obviously. What are you doing here? As far as I know, there’s no society around for miles.’
‘There most certainly is not.’ His handsome face hardening, he dismounted and blocked her path. ‘My presence in this benighted locale is all your fault.’
‘My fault?’ she echoed sceptically.
‘I’d been counting on the blunt from the wager to see me through to Quarter Day. There was enough of a bad odour afterward that m’father refused to pony up early. Had to travel to this devil’s backwater to charm my old maiden aunt, who can always be counted on for a bit of the ready for the inconvenience of making the trip. Not as inconvenient this time, since remaining out of London for the moment seemed wise. Yet another sin to lay at your door.’
‘Why?’ she asked scornfully. ‘Did you lose face among your sycophants when your sordid little plan failed?’
‘Rossiter insisted I remove the wager from the betting book.’ Anger contorted his face. ‘Retract it! Me! The humiliation of it! I’ve never been bested at a wager in my life!’
‘Except by my brother, apparently. Though I’d feel better about the future of England if you’d been shamed by proposing the wager, not by withdrawing it.’
‘I imagine you’re proud of yourself!’ He rounded on her. ‘Leading me on with that shy, backward act. Even managed to turn the disgrace at the inn respectable, though it did harness you to a bastard. For an earl’s daughter, that couldn’t be accounted a triumph.’
Wishing she had a palette knife to run him through with—his removal should be considered a boon to decent society—Alyssa said, ‘I’ve heard quite enough. Step aside so I can continue on my way and find someone else to vent your ill humour on. Goodbye, Lord Denbry. I truly hope to never encounter you again.’
‘Not so fast,’ he snarled, seizing her arm. ‘Showed your true colours that day at the inn. A wild little piece, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll take a little restitution for my losses, here and now. No servants or reckless bastards to intervene this time.’
She could twist her arm free, but she’d never outrun him in skirts. Fury boiling in her, Alyssa was calculating how and when she might manoeuvre to land a kick to his groin when she heard Ben’s voice, emanating from behind the copse of bushes.
‘Unhand my wife, Denbry. Now,’ Ben said as he paced out from behind the outcropping.
Though Denbry took a step backwards, he held on to Alyssa’s arm. ‘I did ensure that you had to make her your wife, didn’t I? Although there was that sumptuous dowry. Rossiter hasn’t forgiven me for losing him that. Unfortunate to have to temporarily curtail your freedom, though I don’t expect you’ll keep your London mistress pining for long. I wonder who the little doxy will service then, while you’re off with your tarts.’
Face expressionless, Ben approached at an unhurried pace—though the look in his cold green eyes made Alyssa shiver. In the next instant, he reached Denbry and, before Alyssa could blink, delivered a blow that ripped Denbry’s hand off Alyssa’s sleeve and sent the man spiralling backwards.
To Denbry’s credit, he did not run for his horse—which Alyssa thought would have been the prudent reaction. Instead, struggling to his feet, one hand on his jaw, he said, ‘Once again, the bastard’s response. Pretend what you like, put on airs and graces in Parliament, but you’ll never be more than a nobleman’s illegitimate get.’
‘If you are the example of a “gentleman”, I’m glad to be a base-born. Army-trained, too, you might remember. I warned you before, if you ever maligned my wife or her reputation again, I’d give you an exhibition of that training. Apparently your memory is faulty. A pity. I’m afraid you’re going to need a much longer repairing lease with that maiden aunt than you thought.’
With that, he advanced on Denbry and this time discretion won
out. Looking around wildly to locate his horse, he made a run for it.
But Ben was faster. Catching up, he grabbed Denbry’s shoulder, jerked him around and, as Denbry brought up his fists to repel a blow, kicked his feet out from under him. More frightened than hurt, the Earl cried out as he hit the ground and skidded, trying to right himself. Ben followed, kicking him to his hands and knees each time he tried to get up, driving him backwards, until Denbry was crouched with his back against a rock outcropping, one arm down to try to protect his legs, another up over his face.
Ben towered over him, his hair dishevelled, a murderous look on his face. Afraid he might do the man a serious injury, Alyssa ran up and grabbed his arm. Hard muscle tensed beneath her fingers.
‘Let him go, Ben! He’s not worth the trouble.’
For a moment, she was afraid she might have to tackle her husband to keep him from attacking again. But then, the ferocity seemed to leave him and he stepped back.
‘Pummelling your miserable hide is the second-greatest temptation I’ve ever had to resist. Since I don’t think I could manage it again, better make sure I don’t set eyes on you after today. Or you will be sorry. Because there won’t be any tender-hearted ladies around to save you.’
Struggling to his feet, Denbry looked from his torn cravat to the ripped knees of his breeches to his ruined boots, scratched from scrabbling across the rough ground. ‘No, it’s you who’s going to be sorry,’ he spat out and limped to his horse.
Alyssa kept a restraining hand on Ben’s arm until the Earl had ridden out of sight. ‘That’s the last of him, I hope. Would you fetch our horses?’
With a terse nod, he headed off. Alyssa couldn’t help admiring his tall frame and powerful shoulders as he disappeared into the copse. How could a lady not feel gratified at being defended by a man with such brutal efficiency?
Though she reminded herself Ben would have come to the defence of any lady who was being threatened, his response today did seem several degrees more ferocious than when he’d punched Denbry at the Dornton Village inn. Could their deepening friendship and their new intimacy have made him more attached to—and protective of—the woman to whom circumstance had bound him?
What would it be like to live with his tender care, engaging companionship and fiery passion every day, for the rest of their lives?
Except that when they returned to London, he would remain to carry out his duties in Parliament, while she set out again alone. Remain in the metropolis where, Denbry said, his mistress was pining for him.
Not that she could put much credence in anything the Earl uttered. But...was there a woman waiting in London for Ben?
She didn’t think so—but she didn’t know much about such relationships. Quite a few gentlemen—her father among them—had no difficulty going from their wives in the country to their chère-amies in the capital.
Before she skipped down the fanciful road of imaging their intimacy had bound them together too closely for anyone to come between them, she needed to remember that the lovemaking she found so unique and powerful had not been a new or perhaps even a memorable event for Ben. This self-admitted ‘man of great address with the ladies’ had pleasured many women before her...and quite likely would go on to pleasure many more.
That daunting thought was enough to dissipate the last remnants of the romantic dream that he’d been the gallant knight galloping up to rescue his one true love.
‘You’re very quiet, Lyssa,’ Ben said he led their horses back up. ‘Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he? By Heaven, if he did, I’ll track him down—’
‘No, Ben, I’m quite all right. Though I admire your science—you must show me some time how you take someone’s feet out from under them like that—I could have handled him,’ she said.
‘Could you, now?’ he said with a grin. ‘How were you intending to do that, my warrior princess?’
Steeling herself against the warmth that endearment evoked, she said, ‘Since I didn’t have brushes or palette knife to stab him with, I intended to kick him where he’d remember the blow for a long time. These walking boots have thick heels.’
Ben chuckled. ‘I’d liked to have seen that. Might have made up for being denied the pleasure of beating the stuffing out of him.’
‘He is a miserable weasel. I only hope we’re done with him.’
‘If he does bother you again, I’ll get him some place with no witnesses and this time you won’t stop me.’ Ben sighed. ‘That’s why we need to reform Parliament—so self-important wastrels like that can never take a seat based solely on their birth. But enough of that unpleasantness. Come, my sweet.’
Much as she was trying to listen to the voice of prudence that whispered she mustn’t read too much into what was probably no more to him than a pleasant interlude, as he looked tenderly down into her eyes before giving her hand a kiss, she couldn’t help being pulled back into that intoxicating sense of intimacy.
Prudence be damned, she thought defiantly. Maybe this sense of belonging together was an illusion. Still, she intended to enjoy every moment of the euphoria. They would be back to London—and reality—soon enough.
‘What was the first temptation you had so much trouble resisting, by the way?’ she couldn’t help asking.
He stopped to give her a hard kiss. ‘What do you think?’
Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down for another fierce kiss, revelling in his strength and masculinity. ‘Time to return to the inn, then,’ she said, releasing him. ‘And resist no more.’
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, Ben sat at a table in Alyssa’s chamber at the inn as she packed up her art supplies, while Molly folded the rest of her belongings and deposited them into her trunks. After three glorious weeks of exploring the countryside with his ardent bride, it was time to return to London.
For the first time ever, Ben regretted having to sit in Parliament.
He’d undertaken this journey so Alyssa could begin immediately, in safety, to complete the drawings that would make her dream of publication become reality. True, he’d also hoped that riding, dining, talking and spending the best part of every day together would erode her fears and teach her heart to believe what her head already knew: that he would never take more from her than she freely offered. He trusted, once her heart was convinced, she would release the hold over the passion he’d sensed in her that first morning in the woods at Dornton and come to him.
He’d succeeded spectacularly on all counts, he thought, a smile curving his lips as he watched her—the hands and fingers that could fashion the image of a bird so cleverly it seemed ready to fly off the page could also tease and arouse and stimulate, drawing from his body a response more intense than anything he’d ever experienced.
Such a contradiction she was—all practical housewife now as she secured pencils, pastels and charcoal for the journey, and then out at the seashore that first astonishing afternoon, and in the bedchamber of the inn ever day after that, the most fearless, inventive and insatiable lover a man could wish for. Truly, the woman of a man’s fondest sensual daydreams.
And it wasn’t just the matchless lovemaking that drew him, though he enjoyed that immensely. He’d told Christopher he believed she would intrigue, surprise and delight him, and he’d been correct on that count, too. Her far-ranging interests, her keen eye for detail, her unconventional approach—every day brought new and surprising revelations, leading him to see everything from everyday objects to conventional behaviour in a new light.
He didn’t think the fascination was likely to fade any time soon. Nor was his insatiable hunger for her likely to be slaked—since she would be leaving London again almost as soon as they arrived.
A good thing he would be caught up in strategy and planning for Parliament. He’d expected to like his wife and been certain he would revel
in their lovemaking, once she allowed him to possess her.
But he hadn’t anticipated he would regret not being able to spend every day with her, or how keenly he would miss her when they were apart.
‘That’s all of my things,’ Alyssa said, pulling him back to the present. ‘Molly’s taking it down to the coach. Have you anything to add?’
‘No, I gave my trunk to the grooms earlier this morning.’
After the maid walked out, Alyssa came over to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss the top of his head. ‘You’re very quiet this morning,’ she observed. ‘Thinking about the upcoming session? Or a little fatigued...after our long night?’
With a growl, he pulled her around and on to his lap. ‘Never tired from that,’ he promised, cupping her bottom and giving her for a long, slow kiss. She leaned into him, meeting his tongue with hers to lave and play, caressing his neck with her fingertips and slipping one under his neckcloth, to the base of his throat where the pulse beat strongly.
‘I don’t suppose there’s time...’ she said regretfully when he broke the kiss.
‘Not if we want to leave this morning,’ he replied with a sigh.
To his delight, instead of hopping up briskly, she tucked her head against his chest. And giggled.
‘What?’ he asked, smiling down at her.
‘I was just thinking what delicious gossip we must have provided for the servants—our own and the inn’s. First, engaging separate rooms, then sending poor Molly up to the attics with the other servants. Disappearing for hours in the afternoon, not emerging until late in the mornings...’
‘Does that concern you?’ he asked, worried about the sensibilities of a gently born maiden only just introduced to intimacy and probably uncomfortable that all the world knew what they were doing in their chamber.
‘Not a bit,’ she said cheerfully, confounding—as she so often did—his expectations of what a girl of her sheltered upbringing would think or feel. ‘We are wed, after all, and they will always gossip about something. Probably the maids are envious that I have a husband of such impressive vigour.’ Rubbing herself against his burgeoning erection, she gave him a naughty smile.
Convenient Proposal to the Lady Page 18