And terrifying.
“I was wool-gathering,” he told her innocuously.
Daphne sighed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Haven’t the veriest. What did you want?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He watched her eyes widen with hurt, as her lids lowered to shield the tears he had already saw welling up. God, what a cad he was.
“I apologize for bothering you, Your Grace,” she said stiffly. “I only inquired as to where my destination is to be.”
“Destination?”
“Where are you taking me?” she snapped.
James shifted. “We are going to Cheney Fold,” he told her quietly. “Have you heard of it?”
Daphne shrugged. “One of your many properties, I gather. Where are you headed, Your Grace? Or haven’t I the permission to ask such a personal question?”
“Daphne, what is the matter?”
She raised her eyes, and this time they were hard and cold. He bit back a groan. It was going to be a long ride. It would be even more difficult if she was glowering at him the whole time.
“Nothing ails me, Your Grace. I am merely curious as to our destination.”
“I am going to Cheney Fold,” he told her quietly.
She nodded and stared out the window. Her hands were clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white.
He thought about her peculiar questions. She had actually asked him where he was heading to. The question was disturbing, for it implied that she had expected him to go elsewhere. Or had she hoped? Suddenly, that seemed entirely too important.
“Daphne, why did you think I would not be going to the Hold with you?”
She shrugged. There was no way she was going to admit to all she had heard during the past fortnight. It did not matter in any case. Most likely he would be considerate enough to see she was well settled, properly introduced to his staff, and then leave. It did not change the obvious.
He was taking his undesirable wife far away so she could not shame him in public.
“It is a long ride, Daphne.”
She sent him a curious look. “What do you suggest we do to make the time go faster?”
James bit back a wicked grin. “Oh, I don’t know. You could come sit on my lap and… see what comes up.”
Daphne blinked at him. Twice.
“You want me to sit on your lap? Are you foxed?”
James blushed. He actually blushed. He glanced down to his covered lap. At least she couldn’t see what she was doing to him. Or perhaps if she did…
He promptly tossed his jacket away. Let her see, he thought defiantly. Let her know. Let her…
She glanced down.
Daphne’s eyes widened. Surely… but it was so obvious. She tentatively looked up at his rebellious face. He sent her a lazy grin.
“Um, I think it was better where it was,” Daphne told him faintly.
“Why? Don’t like seeing what you do to me?”
“What I… What I…” she sputtered inelegantly.
“Wife, you’ve driven me crazy the past few hours in that abomination.”
Her shoulders fell. He didn’t like her dress.
“What it does to your…” He trailed off, shaking his cupped palms in front of his own chest, leaving the rest up to her imagination.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” she whispered meekly.
“I like it entirely too much which is why you should use this,” he suggested, tossing her his jacket. “Unless you intend to do something about it.”
Daphne gasped. Do something about it? But did that mean…
She stared into his gleaming eyes, not daring to hope. What she saw there was all the assurance she needed. He wanted her. Again. Now. Her heart did a back-flip.
Then reality set in. She suddenly wished she wasn’t so bloody sensible.
“James, we are in a moving carriage!” she hissed.
“And your point would be?”
Forbidden images flashed beneath her eyes. Surely it couldn’t be possible… She remembered how beautiful he was, how it felt when he… Heat flooded her, spiraling tendrils of flame that licked at her until it settled between her thighs. Her nipples hardened in arousal.
“But we can’t…” Daphne blushed.
James stared steadily into her eyes. “We can do anything we want, sweetheart. We’re married now.”
That was all it took. Daphne launched herself across the carriage, kneeling on the dusty floor. She ran her hands up his tensed thighs until she reached what never failed to fascinate her most. He was rigid and pulsating beneath the burning material. Her hands traced over his shape, stroking through the sleek material. He groaned.
“C-can I?” she stammered breathlessly.
James took care of it, easily unhooking the painfully snug breeches until he bounced free. Her eyes widened. Eagerly, she reached out, taking hold and stroking, reveling in the feel of him.
“You’re so large,” she murmured throatily.
He laughed raggedly. “All the better to please…aaah.”
He closed his eyes. She began to place tiny, wet little kisses up the length of him. Her tongue licked up the underside of his erection. It was the purest bliss. When she ran her tongue over the wet, pink tip, he growled low in his throat.
“Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I won’t last a minute,” he threatened.
Daphne frowned up at him. “But I like—”
“So do I,” he growled menacingly. “Too much.”
An expression of hurt streaked across her face. He regretted his words instantly. Tenderly, he reached down and stroked her cheek.
“Baby, I want you in my lap,” he crooned. “Later you can do anything you want.”
Daphne blinked. Later? Did that meant he wanted her more than once? Such a thing had never occurred to her. She thought he would tire of her.
Gulping past the lump in her throat, she pushed herself up so that she stood between his legs. James cupped her bottom and urged her to sit down. She struggled, refusing to do aught that might injure that most fascinating part of his body.
“Daphne,” James laughed as she struggled yet again.
“I’m heavy,” she protested.
“You are just right.”
James used a great deal more force this time, and managed to shove her down. He quickly reached beneath her skirts and took hold of her thighs even as he shifted lower on the cushioned bench. She gasped as she straddled him. Her heat was open on his belly. His erection pressed into her thigh.
“Oh!”
He leaned forward and traced his tongue around the curve of her ear. When she sighed exultantly, he grinned. Determined to go slow, he lifted her skirts up until her pale, round belly was exposed. He slid his fingers around in questing, maddening little circles.
“You are amazing,” he murmured, kissing a trail down her throat. “Beautiful.”
“James,” she sighed.
His eyes lit on what he wanted most. Curiously, he tugged at her bodice. Her breasts spilled free at once, her peaks taut and rosy in the center of the cream. Groaning, he lowered his head into the scented valley between her breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the sensitive flesh.
Daphne gasped. Her awareness of him multiplied tenfold. She burned where he pressed against her leg, pulsating and thrumming with life. His shadow beard chafed at her skin in the most wonderful way. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen already, and he had barely touched her. Moaning, she arched against his taut belly. Her eyes widened as his muscles clenched. She did it again, and the friction sent little rivulets of pleasure coursing inside her.
Groaning, James took one peak into his mouth and suckled. His fingers squeezed and teased at h
er. She tasted so sweet, and when she shifted against him again, and he felt her moist center seeking more, it was almost too much.
“Ah, babe, I meant to go slow,” he cried out.
“Later,” she whimpered.
James grasped his throbbing shaft in one hand and her neck in the other. As he surged upwards, burying himself deep inside her slick folds, he took her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. Daphne kissed him back with all she was worth, telling him of her feelings, her love, her frustration and agony without words. Her muscles squeezed around him as though she would never let him go.
James cupped her hips, squeezing. She felt like heaven. He tapered off the kiss patiently, pressing his lips to her cheek, her chin, her soft shoulder.
“Easy,” he purred. “Easy, sweet. You control the pace this time.”
“What?” she sighed.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he instructed raggedly.
Cautiously, she placed her hands over his shoulders. She couldn’t help but marvel at the lean muscle beneath. When he took hold of her hips and guided her upward, then lowered her once more, she moaned at the splendor of it all. Surely, heaven could not taste sweeter than this, she marveled.
When she took over, James lifted his hands to frame her face. His eyes stayed upon hers, staring into her eyes as she took him, slow and steady. His thumb brushed over her lips. He lifted his hips to meet her downward thrust eagerly, but all the while his eyes never left hers.
The pleasure built, deep inside. Daphne threw her head back, crying out raggedly. His mouth found her throat, little nibbling kisses that drove her wild. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing, while his thumbs traced maddening circles around her sensitized nipples.
Her orgasm hit her like a riptide, unexpected and fierce. She wept against his throat, whimpering incoherent words that made no sense at all. James wrapped her in his protective embrace, stilling his movements, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her cheek, until she finally let out a deep sigh of contentment.
“Better?” he whispered achingly.
“Mmm.” Daphne closed her eyes. She began to shift off him when she realized something very important.
He was still in her, and he was still very, very hard.
“James?” she breathed fearfully.
He drew a pert nipple into his mouth, lavishly tongue her until she cried out. He pulled back with a resounding thwuck.
“Yes, Daphne?”
“I… That is to say, did you…”
He grinned. “I’m not finished.” It sounded like a promise.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wake up, baby. We’re home.”
Daphne blinked sleepily. She stretched out her arms in languorous contentment. She felt deliciously sated. She gasped as her bare breasts brushed against the fine silk of his shirt.
Unable to resist, James cupped a heavy breast. She was sleep-warm and absolutely delicious. He had taken a great deal of pleasure in undressing her. He had generously allowed her to keep her stockings and garters. She anxiously knocked his hand away and sat up, glancing around worriedly.
“James, you must help me dress,” she hissed, reaching for her stays.
He smiled to himself as she gawked at the ruined garment. She had been too absorbed in crying out with her pleasure when he had ripped the offending thing off her precious skin. He stretched sleepily. It had been a long, yet oddly productive, day.
“James,” she moaned in obvious distress.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Here.”
She took his enormous overcoat, frowning. Shrugging, she pulled it over her shoulders. Amazingly, James felt himself harden again. He had never wanted a woman with the incessant need, and frequency, that he wanted Daphne.
But with silk-encased legs, damp curls cupped between plump thighs and her soft, becoming bosom peering out from between his own winter coat, it wasn’t difficult to see why.
They had made love four times throughout the long day. He was secure that, whatever anxiety she had felt after their initial inexpert coupling at that inn, she was now convinced that it would not be so bad. James could be generous in bed. He was not always a rutting animal. And he had proved it. Four times.
Four times.
He simply could not get over that astounding fact. It was not at all like him. Of course, it helped that his beautiful, currently blushing, bride was the most magnificent creature he had ever set eyes on in his entire life. It might also have to do with the fact that it had been so long since he had taken a lover.
Eager to get inside, and to the quickest bed, James descended the carriage step. He reached up for Daphne who, he noted with amusement, had a death grip on the coat.
“My gown,” she protested when he took her arm to lead her into their home.
Their home. He grinned at the thought.
“It will be taken care of, darling,” he soothed her.
“But—”
Daphne stopped as she finally got a good look at Cheney Fold. Her jaw dropped open at the sheer immensity of the monstrosity set before her. She let go of the coat so she could rub her eyes. Surely she was imagining the dimensions.
Nope. Still there. She shook her head, utterly bewildered.
What kind of man wanted this much room, she wondered. It was, by far, the largest mansion she had ever set eyes on. She counted five stories, all encased in red brick and sparkling windows. There was a wide walkway that led to the steep stairs into the house. Although it was dusk, she suspected from the shine that the stairs were made of marble.
“James?” she asked faintly.
“Yes, my dearest wife?”
“T-this isn’t Cheney Fold?” Please say nay, she hoped.
“Of course it is,” he laughed. “Come, I can’t wait to show you.”
She clutched the lapels of her coat together, but this time not for modesty. In truth, she just wanted something to hold on to. Needed it, actually. God only knew what more she would have to face before she could have a bath.
As they stepped in to glittering entry, they were met with a line of staff that simply boggled the mind. Most households did not have the need for even half the staff that were all lined up for milord’s pleasure, much less the house room. Her attention riveted with a short, plump woman with a homely face and soft green eyes.
“Daphne, this is Mrs. Tibbs, the housekeeper. If you have any concern, you may call for her directly,” James told her.
James nodded absently. Daphne expected him to greet his staff, but the obstinate man simply headed up the stairs, dragging her behind him impatiently. Daphne called a hasty thank you over her shoulder.
“James,” she cried when she almost stumbled.
“Stop dawdling, love. Your bath will grow chill.”
That got her to moving. “Bath? A bath? Already? How did they know when we would arrive?”
He laughed. “They knew we were on my land at least an hour before he arrived,” he explained patiently.
Her eyes widened. “An hour?” Just how much land did Cheney Fold encompass?
Her ladyship’s quarters were on the third floor. James led her inside apartments that her country girl mind simply could not comprehend. First there was a sitting room, decorated in gold and rose, with plump, overstuffed chairs and settees upholstered in rose velvet. She barely had time to comprehend that fascination when he led her through an enormous bedchamber. She barely had time to register the lavender walls before he led her into another room, set in marble, with a steaming tub made ready for her.
“Your maid will be here shortly,” he told her, beaming. “Unless…” James yanked his coat off her shoulders.
“James, surely you don’t…”
He slid his tongue around the curve of her ear before decadently slipping it inside the
small shell.
Daphne squealed. “James, not now. I stink.”
He lightly bit her lobe. “You could never stink.”
She sent him a disbelieving look. Just to tease her, he lowered his head to her shoulder, sniffing loudly.
“You smell like me.” He tongued the curve of her neck. “I like that.”
“You are impossible,” Daphne laughed.
He swept his eyes over her mostly-naked body. He began to throb in earnest anticipation. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like to bathe together, my darling wife?”
She frowned. He kept calling her his wife, like she was an object.
Taking that for a no, he slung his coat over his arm. “I will ring for your maid,” he told her over his shoulder. “Oh, I checked this girl’s references more carefully, Daphne. You need not fear her.”
Daphne shook her head, watching the delicious way his bottom shifted, muscle beneath taut skin she now knew. The man was incorrigible. And insatiable, she thought with a smile. Her thighs tingled in anticipation.
Sighing, she looked around. It was a lovely room, she thought, with glossy marble counters already draped in bottles and creams, some of which were oddly familiar. She picked up a bar of familiar soap, sniffing happily. It was her own, made with lilac oils and blossoms. She wondered how…
Shaking her head, she shrugged the thought aside.
“Good eve, Your Grace. Oh, you have already undressed.”
Daphne turned an embarrassed smile on the young maid James had assigned her. She was, like the housekeeper, a homely looking thing with drab, brown hair cleanly tucked beneath a white cap. She wore a bodiless dress of black with a small white bib tied around the back.
“My name is Janice,” the maid told her simply.
“I am Daphne.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Daphne blinked, unaccustomed to the formality. She had always asked the help to call her by her first name. Darcie was the only one who had protested, and then only marginally. Thinking of Darcie reminded her of what the malicious girl had done. She sighed unhappily.
“Allow me to help you, Your Grace.”
A Kiss to Remember Page 24