by Nicole Byrd
She reached down to help him rid her legs of the cumbersome underwear, and then they were both naked. He pulled her to him, and she delighted in the warm, intimate touch of his skin against her own, from her head to her toes. It was a voluptuous sensation, both completely satisfying and at the same time causing her to want so much more, and she reveled in it!
Once more she threw her arms about his neck and pressed herself against him, thinking nothing was as good as the feel of his body against hers. She kissed him, loving the touch of his lips when he returned the embrace even more forcefully…and when he moved his body, placing himself so that he was poised to enter her, Maddie’s eyes widened, but she did not protest—but despite herself, she tensed.
And she knew, somehow, even in the darkness, when he blinked and opened his eyes.
Ten
His eyes had been open before, as they usually were when he sleepwalked, but not really seeing. This was different, and she knew it.
“Madeline?”
Oh, dear heaven, what would he think of her? Would he call off the betrothal? He might think her too wanton to be his wife, Maddie thought, belatedly realizing all the implications of suddenly finding your fiancée naked in your bed. Glad he could not see her surely flaming face in the dark, she ducked her head.
“Madeline, did I force you to my bed? Or hold you here against your will?”
She could lie, of course. She could not read his tone, or tell if he was displeased or shocked. He sounded—he sounded—what did she hear in his tone? She could not dissemble.
“No, Adrian,” she said, her own voice flat. “You were sleepwalking again. I brought you back to your chamber to get you safely back in bed, and—and—it came about that—”
He lowered his face and kissed her ear.
Surprised, she jumped.
He dropped his face even lower and kissed the skin just beneath her ear, and then the delicate skin of her neck. Shivering at the delicious sensations, Maddie could barely lie still. “Adrian!”
“As long as you are here of your own volition.”
“You are not shocked?”
“Shocked? My darling girl, I am ecstatic. I have wanted to do this since the night I found you in the gazebo. But I had to be sure you wanted it, too.” He kissed the sensitive skin where her neck joined her shoulder, and next she felt the soft touch of his tongue.
Unable to lie still beneath such provocative behavior, she moved restlessly on the sheets. “Adrian! You were not—I mean—were you really—you were not feigning?”
“Was I really sleepwalking? Sadly, yes. It’s an unfortunate habit I had as a child, and it has returned since the war. But I do admit that for the last several minutes I think I have been half awake. At any rate, I was aware of a very lifelike and delightful dream…”
She blushed again, but now his hands were roaming over her body even as his mouth still lingered at her shoulder. He touched the tender skin of her breast, and Maddie knew that she gave a silent gasp as his supple fingers ringed her breast, circling closer and closer in lazy motions until they touched the nipple, easing it into a taut alertness that made her feel as if she might shout into the night. When he put his hand on her other breast, she clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid the spasms of pleasure might burst past her lips despite her best intentions.
He leaned over her and kissed her again, his lips hard and firm, and Maddie thought she might be drowning once more in sensations so deep and languorous that it hardly seemed they could get any better.
And then he moved one hand down to the soft vee between her legs, and Maddie found that yes, there was more, and she wanted it, and she was so ready for him that her body arched on its own accord.
“Yes,” Adrian murmured, “yes, beloved.” He slipped his hand lower and pushed his fingers into her inner self, and the resulting ripple of pleasure took her breath.
“Oh, Adrian,” she said, not expecting this. When he stroked, she gasped at the sensation and found herself pushing against his hand. She discovered that she was wet with wanting, and now he moved himself again, positioning his body over her—she could just see him shift in the moonlight from the window.
“I think you are ready, my love, more than ready,” he said, and he sounded breathless too.
Maddie couldn’t even think of speaking; she was biting her lip to hold back the moans of pure need. Suddenly he thrust deeply into her, and she gasped. There was a twinge of pain, but only for a moment—then he pulled back, leaned to kiss her again, and before she could even wonder about the discomfort, pushed once more. This time, the blissful tide of feeling carried her deep, deep into the rushing ecstasy of their joining. It was so intense and delightful that she almost moaned aloud. Perhaps she did—she was aware only of diving forward into a sea of wonderful sensations.
They rose and fell together, their bodies naked, haloed by the faint golden glow of moonlight. The harder he thrust, the harder she pushed against him, and the more exquisite were the waves of pleasure that washed over her—and surely, him, too? They were one, they were one being, joined at the heart of their existence with a pulsating core of energy that sent back ripples of pleasure to rebound and wash over them again and again as they found the rhythm that their bodies demanded.
This was everything she had dreamed of and more. He rose and fell above her, and each time they met, the ripple of feeling that rushed over her skin seemed to ignite feelings of exquisite joy—she felt she could barely contain them. Together they seem to sizzle and spark until she thought that from the friction of their fevered union, the sheets, the bed, the room might catch fire. Yet she would not have stopped for anything.
What had ever been so sweet, so delicious, so deeply resoundingly pleasurable? This was beyond thought, beyond reason, when they rose to the highest peak—to the final crest of the utmost pinnacle, Maddie felt giddy from lack of breath till she thought she might not be able to bear the pleasure it was so intense. Then, like shooting stars, like meteors bursting from the sky, like a heart filled past contentment with love surfeit and true—at last Adrian fell back against the bed and gathered her into his arms, both too exhausted to speak.
This, then, was love between a man and a woman.
Maddie lay her cheek against Adrian’s chest and marveled.
Filled with the delicious languor that came after joining, it seemed she had only allowed her eyelids, which had felt so heavy, to close for a moment. Then suddenly she was aware that Adrian was kissing her again. When she opened her eyes, she saw with alarm that outside the window, she could make out faint streaks of grayness. A lone sentinel tweeted the first notes that would soon be joined by scores of birds in trees all around the house.
“My dearest, I would be delighted to resume our lovemaking, but I fear your faithful maidservant might start her rounds soon, and—”
“Oh, heavens, if Bess should find me here!” Just the idea had Maddie sitting straight up in bed, then grabbing her nightgown to cover her bare body.
“Yes, that was my thought.” He grinned, looking quite unrepentant.
“Wretch!” She made a face at him and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. She pulled her gown quickly over her head and turned toward the door, almost falling off the bed.
“’Ware the edge!” Adrian leaned over to grab her just in time.
Feeling foolish, Maddie managed to get her head through the neck of her gown, then pushed her arms through. “I have to go.” She ran for the door, opened it, and checked the hall, then looked back and smiled ruefully at her fiancé—and lover.
Eyes tender, he smiled back.
She ran for her room.
She was in the wrong house. It was too big to be the cottage and too old and drafty to be the house in London. While she tried to think where she was, Felicity smelled the smoke. No, no, she had lived this before—how could it be happening again? The smoke was in her nose and throat and mouth—she could taste it, smell it, and it made her cough as she fought to breathe
. The hair on the back of her neck prickled with an awareness of danger. She had no time to worry about how or why this was real, she had to get out.
She stretched out her arms for something to grasp, but she felt only the threadbare sheets of her bed. She tried to push back the bedclothes but they seemed to be wrapped too tightly around her body, clutching her like reeds pulling down a drowning man. Feeling more frantic with every moment that passed, she scissored her legs against them, fought and kicked again and again, and at last the heavy covers gave way. She half fell, half jumped off the bed, lurching to her feet.
The air was murky with smoke, and drawing in the foul air, she choked. She couldn’t breathe. She caught up a shawl lying on the chair near the bed and held it over her mouth to filter the air as she groped for a candle to light so that she could see through the gloomy darkness, but there wasn’t time.
She had to get out.
“Help me!” she called, her voice choking in the smoky air, but no one answered.
She remembered that she was alone; everyone she knew had been left behind—when she had been disgraced, when all the other ladies she had once known had turned their backs.
This was no time for memories. The smoke was growing thicker. Her head had a strange buzzing inside it, and her lungs hurt with the constant struggle to breathe.
She stumbled over a three-legged stool that loomed out of the darkness and fell to her hands and knees. Closer to the floor, the air was cleaner, and for a moment her head cleared a little. She pushed the stool aside and crawled toward the outer door. It was her last chance, she knew instinctively, her last chance to live before the smoke became too dense and she passed out and died in the conflagration.
Pushed by a desperate will to live, she crawled inch by inch toward the door. She could feel the heat of the flames at her back, hear the crackle of the blaze. She was so very afraid, and so tired of gasping for breath. If she could just lay her head down on her smoke-stained hands and rest for a moment…
No, no, she shrieked at herself from some distance above the small figure in the grimy nightgown, already streaked with smoke and falling cinders. Don’t stop now! Get up, get up! Somehow, she continued to creep toward the heavy wooden door. She reached it, ready to pull it open and tumble out into the clean outer air.
But the door wouldn’t open—
Gasping, Felicity sat straight up in bed.
This was the way the nightmare always ended.
There was no reason for her eyes to be filled with tears, she told herself, rubbing away the treacherous liquid. She had survived, the door had opened…. But if the person who had set the fire—for she had never believed it to be an accident, as the villagers had judged—had thought to secure the door somehow, she could never have lived to move and try to hide her identity once again.
Shivering as she pushed away the memories, Felicity rubbed the small burn scars on her forearms that she usually kept hidden beneath long sleeves. As she did, she looked up at one of the small windows in the cottage wall. Blinking, she made out a man’s face staring down at her.
After their wonderful night of lovemaking, Maddie thought it best to be extra circumspect, so she and the viscount met again only at the breakfast table, where she barely had the nerve to look at him. She felt as if her change in circumstances must be printed upon her forehead.
Could her father tell that she was no longer a maiden? Surely not, but still she fought with her treacherous too-ready blushes and strove to keep an even complexion, concentrating on her toast and porridge.
She shot Adrian only an occasional veiled peek from beneath her lowered lashes.
But he would send her those mischievous glances—with that glint in his eyes that made her want to giggle at all the wrong times, when her father was discussing the men’s chess game and the viscount’s excellent gambit…excellent, indeed!
She could remark on some excellent gambits, she told herself, and had to bite her lip to keep from collapsing into a fit of laughter. She took a sip of tea so hastily that she almost sloshed the liquid onto the tablecloth.
It was just as well that her father took Adrian off for yet another game of chess after breakfast.
“You don’t mind, do you, my dear?” he said to his daughter.
“Of course not, Papa,” she lied, smiling at them both.
“Chess is almost my favorite pastime,” the viscount added, giving them both a cordial smile and, when Mr. Applegate had turned away, adding a wink for Maddie’s benefit.
“Oh, is there another game you prefer? Perhaps we can try it instead,” her father suggested.
She had to pinch herself when her father didn’t see to keep from giggling, and she gave Adrian a reproachful look for his teasing. He immediately sobered and gave her a repentant bow.
“No, no, I like chess very well indeed,” he said, “and we cannot stop our tournament at such a time; I am almost catching up.”
They left for the study, and Maddie went to the kitchen to help Bess clear away the breakfast dishes and get some of the dinner menu started. Then, unable to be still, she climbed the steps to her room and, drawn once more to the neat bundle of her mother’s letters, sat on her bed and held them to her heart.
Had her mother known such delights as Maddie and Adrian had shared last night, after she had married her father?
Maddie wished her mother had lived long enough so that she could talk to her now, ask her questions, request advice on her upcoming marriage.
She looked down at the letters, and the temptation was too strong to resist. She decided she could take another quick look. She drew out one of the letters and found that her mother was remembering a stroll they had taken through the garden.
“Our favorite rosebush is blooming, my love, and every time I see a new blossom, I remember how carefully you trimmed it, and now your care is being rewarded. In just the same way, I know my heart is safe in your loving hands.”
How sweet, Maddie thought. She had not known that her father had ever been interested in the garden; he had not shown much concern for flowers or ornamental bushes in recent years. Perhaps after her mother died, he had lost his inclination.
She tucked the letter back into the pile, and, with a look at the sunlight and how the morning had advanced, realized she should go back to help Bess with the luncheon.
When the meal was on the table, and the men had left their chessboard behind and joined her in the dining room, she managed to work a question about the garden into the conversation.
“Did my mother have a favorite rosebush, Papa, that you remember?”
“Eh?” He paused with a slice of venison on his knife, and looked as if he were trying to recall. “Really, my dear, your mother liked all the flowers. She was quite a hand with the garden, always out working with the plants. I’m afraid it’s never looked quite the same since she left us.” He sighed, and Maddie found she hadn’t the heart to ask him any more.
Perhaps it was as she’d thought; he simply had lost his zest for horticulture without her mother there to share his interests.
She let the conversation swirl back to other topics, but when they rose from the table and her father retired for his afternoon rest, she and the viscount wandered outside once more, and this time, hand in hand, they headed for the weathered bench at the far end of the garden.
Adrian sat, and she moved to sit close beside him. Remembering the passion of the night before, she leaned against his body, delighting in the firmness of his torso, the strength of his arms and legs.
“My love,” he murmured, putting one arm around her shoulders. “What a joy you are!”
She slid across the bench until she was almost sitting in his lap. He pulled her even closer and scooped her up until she was indeed sitting on top of him—and, oh my, she could feel him suddenly hard against the underside of her legs.
“Do you think we dare?” he murmured.
She glanced around, not sure how much someone could see. But the hedge pro
tected them from view, and she knew that Thomas was inside the house having his meal in the kitchen. How could she be sensible with the blood racing through her veins? She leaned into his kiss and threw her arms about his shoulders.
He shifted so that she could lift and rearrange her skirts—Maddie found she was becoming shockingly profligate at this business of lovemaking—and if they could not quite complete the act, it was still most pleasurable to feel him hard against the tender skin between her legs. She found she could rock slightly back and forth and bring forth exquisitely delightful sensations. She was not the only one who had to bite back moans. It was the viscount who made small sounds deep in his throat, now.
“Sweet girl, what you are doing to me—”
“Should I stop?” she paused for a moment.
“Good lord, no!” he said hastily.
She resumed her back and forth motion, and again, the sensations induced were deeply gratifying.
In a moment Adrian slipped one hand beneath her body. He inserted two fingers inside her, and the intensity of her pleasure grew once more. She gasped, and almost rose to her tiptoes, but he pulled her back down.
“Now, now,” he said very low. “We must keep up appearances. Or lie low with them.”
This struck Maddie as funny and she would have laughed if she had not been so consumed with feelings of pure physical fervor. She thought she might melt away as he continued to stroke and pulsate her soft inner folds in just the right places, and her response grew greater and greater till she thought that the shivers of delight that ran through her might literally turn her inside out. The feelings grew and circled and exploded outward.
At last she gave a soft cry, stretched upward once more, then fell into his arms. Adrian held her tightly and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, and even the top of her head.
For a few minutes she lay in his arms with her eyes shut, totally sated, limp, and happy. She discovered that there were tears on her cheeks—tears of total physical and emotional completion. It was an amazing feeling, yet she felt rather selfish.