TuesdayNights

by Linda Rae Sande

  Chapter 31

  Friday is for Birthdays and Wedding Vows

  April 21, 1815, 3:00 a.m.

  The smell of smoke from a guttering candle brought Michael to a sudden wakening, and he nearly sat up as he sniffed the air. Satisfied the room wasn’t on fire, he relaxed back into the pillows before determining he wasn’t in his own room. The warm body pressed against him stirred, and he smiled as he remembered where he was. His body certainly knew, he realized as he glanced down at his erect manhood. As he watched, Olivia reached out with a finger and drew it down the hardened shaft, barely touching the velvety skin. Michael inhaled sharply and growled, and she quickly pulled her hand away from him. He captured it in his own and moved it back, pressing it against him so that her thumb was on his moistened tip. “Are you .. sore?” he whispered, noticing the blood stain on the bed linen next to where she lay pressed against him. I have taken her maidenhead, he thought with an odd mix of satisfaction and sadness.

  “I do not believe so,” she murmured, desire for him mounting deep inside as she held him and rubbed her thumb over his engorged cock. The space between her thighs seemed to throb, demanding he do something. Before she could ask if he would touch her there as he had the night before, Michael raised himself on one elbow and cupped one breast with his free hand. His mouth was on hers in an instant, his lips gently pushing hers apart so that his tongue could sweep over her teeth. And then his lips let go to gently nip her lower lip before they moved down to her other breast. His tongue teased the nipple into a hardened nub and he suckled it until he heard Olivia’s whimpered plea.

  Lowering himself onto her body, he pushed himself down the front of her, drawing his tongue over her belly and down to the top of one thigh, becoming more excited when he heard her soft cries. She spread her legs and lifted one knee, all the while begging him to touch her. Michael wrapped an arm around the upraised thigh, kissing the inside of the tender flesh, drawing his tongue down to the wet folds between her legs. The tip of his tongue sought out its prey, found the engorged nub that would bring her to ecstasy when his tongue touched it.

  Olivia gasped and jerked a bit when he made contact, but he pressed his lips around the red fruit and suckled it gently, careful not to bruise it as his lips kissed it and his tongue lightly flicked across it. Olivia quiet cries increased, arousing so much desire in Michael that he was sure he would climax before he could even enter her wet sheath.

  With one quick swipe with the blade of his tongue, Olivia arced her back and cried out his name, the pleasure so intense she thought she might faint. And then, in a deft movement she was barely aware of, Michael was suddenly inside her, filling her and slowly pulling out and pushing into her. With each thrust, she felt his muscles bunch beneath her fingers as she held onto his back. With each thrust, she arced her back so he could push deeper into her wet warmth. With each thrust, her hands moved lower on his back. And with the last thrust, her hands gripped his buttocks and his entire body spasmed. Michael called out her name as the world around him went black while Olivia held her breath, knowing her own wave of pleasure was about to crash down deep inside. “Michael!” she whispered, holding onto his body as she rode the wave and allowed it to break and send her floating into an exquisite abyss. She hung there for some time – seconds, minutes, hours – she did not know, but she finally surfaced and took a deep breath.

  She was suddenly aware of how her body shivered as she held her husband against her. Her thighs were pinned against the sides of his legs, his solidity providing the only anchor she could cling to in her moment of ecstasy. Tears streamed down the sides of her temples, although she had no idea why she would be crying. And she understood at that very moment how it was a man could own a woman.

  She had just given herself, body and soul, to her husband.

  3:45 a.m.

  When Michael finally stirred, he pushed one of her legs gently down the length of his body and then rolled so that Olivia lay atop him. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed her head onto his shoulder and kissed her hair. “Comfortable?” he wondered quietly, his voice sleepy.

  “Mmm,” Olivia murmured in reply. “Happy birthday,” she added in a quiet whisper, realizing it must be nearly morning.

  “Thank you,” he replied with an embarrassed grin. He watched her in the dim candlelight, aware she wasn’t yet asleep. “A penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, his lips curling up as he watched her eyes meet his.

  “I have decided to accept your offer of marriage,” she replied, her voice cracking just a bit as she made the admission. “I love you.”

  Michael stared at her for several seconds, not quite believing what he’d heard. “A penny is suddenly worth a million pounds,” he remarked, a smile spreading over his face. “I believe this is the best birthday I have ever had,” he murmured sleepily.

  As he closed his eyes, his last thought was, Why the hell did I wait so long to marry?

  10:15 a.m. at Eloisa’s townhouse

  “So ...,” Eloisa spoke breathlessly. “What do you think of him?”

  Olivia felt her cheeks flush and wished she could hide her obvious embarrassment. “He is very ... thoughtful,” she said hesitantly, not wanting to admit that she found the night with her husband to be the most exciting and pleasurable night of her life. “I believe we shall have a very good life together.”

  Eloisa’s face fell as she regarded her sister. “Thoughtful?” she repeated as she noticed her sister’s red face. “He did make love to you, did he not?” she wondered, her brows furrowing. She turned to allow Olivia to button up the ball gown.

  Olivia had come at ten with the dress, apologizing for her late arrival and looking as if she’d been up most of the night. But in her defense, Olivia had attended a ball and probably not arrived home until after one or two in the morning. And in true nervous bride fashion, Eloisa had been too anxious to sleep and stayed up entirely too late finishing the needlework on the wedding sampler, back stitching ‘Arthur’ and ‘Eloisa’ as well as today’s date into the banner portion of the wall hanging.

  Olivia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s a magnificent man, actually,” she admitted then, smiling. “I had no idea how ... pleasurable being with a man could be,” she added, her breaths coming faster as she spoke. “He kisses as if his very life depends on it. He knows exactly how to touch me. I think I nearly fainted at least twice. And his tongue was ...” She stopped speaking, suddenly aware of what she was saying and not at all comfortable with telling her sister everything.

  Eloisa smiled broadly and turned to face her sister, her own face coloring as Olivia continued her description. Her own experiences with Arthur had been rather pleasurable. “Indeed. Arthur is ... so skilled,” she whispered in reply. “And so generous. He requires that I have my pleasure before he will take his own,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  Olivia regarded her sister for a moment. “So, you have spent another night in bed with him then?” she wondered, a quirk on the edge of her mouth. It had taken a week for her marriage to be consummated but her sister and future brother-in-law had managed to spend two entire nights together before their wedding day!

  A bright pink flush colored her sister’s face. “Yes. We weren’t going to share his bed until tonight, but ... we’d had dinner at the Clarendon Hotel – with champagne – and his bruises weren’t as painful, and he took me on a tour of his house in Mayfair. Oh, Olivia, his home is so beautiful. Very tastefully decorated, beautiful furnishings, and I’ll have my very own bedchamber and dressing area,” she gushed, recalling the details of the mansion for which she was about to become a mistress.

  Her eyebrows rising, Olivia considered her sister’s good fortune. “The Clarendon?” she repeated, knowing a dinner there could cost several pounds, as could the champagne.

  Eloisa nodded. “It was divine. I thanked him profusely, and he promised we could go the
re at least once a month!”

  Olivia smiled, remembering what Michael had told her about her sister’s first day in London. It was only fair the girl be allowed to live a better life now.

  A knock at the front door had the two women startled. “’Tis time,” Olivia said as she left Eloisa’s room. She quickly descended the stairs and hurried to answer the door, opening it to find Michael and an older, thinner but very handsome man standing on the stoop. The two were dressed smartly in superfine morning suits, their red brocade waistcoats a vibrant contrast to the gray of their topcoats. Each held a black top hat in black kid-gloved hands, although the older man’s hands gave away his nervousness. Black Hessians, polished to perfection, completed their wedding attire. “Please come in. She’s nearly ready,” Olivia blurted as she stepped aside to allow the men into the house. When Michael stepped over the threshold, she stood on tiptoe intending to kiss him on the cheek. He instead wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the mouth, causing her to blush a bright red.

  “Hello, my beautiful Olivia,” he whispered before releasing his hold on her. He seemed not the least bit embarrassed by his show of affection in front of their guest, and Olivia was sure she felt the beginning of an erection when she was suddenly pressed against him.

  She returned the kiss, even though she was quite embarrassed at being kissed in front of her sister’s intended. She wondered if Michael might be putting on a show in order to further prove he had no claim on Eloisa Waterford. “Hello, darling,” she whispered with a grin as she motioned with her head toward her future brother-in-law.

  Michael took the hint. “Arthur Huntington, may I present my wife and your bride’s sister, Olivia,” he said with a wave of his hand and a slight bow.

  Olivia couldn’t help but smile and blush as she curtsied to Arthur’s deep bow.

  “It is an honor to meet my new sister,” Arthur intoned, his excitement apparent. “I must tell you that I was most relieved to find out that you existed, for I feared for some time that your husband was a contender for your sister’s heart,” he said lightly.

  Cocking her head to one side, Olivia smiled brightly. “Not to worry, Mr. Huntington,” she replied quickly. “My sister is quite in love with you.”

  It was Arthur’s turn to look surprised and then show a bit of relief, his face coloring up a bit as he gave Michael a quick glance. “As I am with her, I can assure you. And please, do call me ‘Arthur’,” he added with a nod.

  Olivia considered the man for a moment, smiling at his easy demeanor. Eloisa has done well for herself, she thought. “And what have you done with the vicar?” Olivia wondered when a third man didn’t appear behind them.

  “He’s meeting us at the church near Cavendish Square,” Michael replied, holding his chronometer in one hand. He gazed at his wife, his eyes traveling to the floor and back up to her face before he added, “And after the ceremony we’re going to Berkeley Square for Italian ices. If you would like to, of course,” he added, realizing he should probably ask her if she wished to be included in the post-wedding plans.

  Olivia beamed. “At Gunter’s Tea Shop?” she clarified, never having been to the confectioner’s shop.

  “Indeed,” Arthur replied happily. “The bergamot pear ice is your sister’s favorite treat, and I intend to spoil her by making sure she has it at least once a week,” he vowed, his chest puffed out proudly.

  Olivia and Michael exchanged glances. “I’ll fetch the bride and then we can be on our way,” Olivia offered as she moved toward the stairs.

  “Your new gown is lovely,” Michael called out, grinning when Olivia looked over her shoulder with a surprised look. She and Eloisa had visited several shops before finding the taupe satin gown, its shade perfectly complimenting the cream of her ball gown and its style nearly identical. The matching parasols, leaning against the wall in the vestibule, were intended for walks around their squares and the occasional shopping trip, but Olivia realized that, on this sunny day, they would be perfect when riding in the barouche that would take them to the ceremony in Cavendish Square and then to Berkeley Square for ices.

  “Are you ready?” Olivia asked as she entered Eloisa’s bedchamber, smiling as she took in the sight of her older sister in the ball gown she’d been wearing only hours earlier. “You look ... like a bride!” she breathed, tears threatening in the corners of her eyes.

  Eloisa turned from the cheval mirror, holding the string of pearls Arthur had given her. “Almost,” she whispered in reply, her hands trembling so that she could not undo the clasp of the necklace. “I am so nervous.” A large trunk was packed and ready for a footman to take to the Cavendish Square house; all the other items in the townhouse were part of the property. Once Arthur and Eloisa were settled in their home, Michael and Olivia would head to Crawley Down to spend a month at Iron Creek.

  The plans, discussed just that morning when the two awoke at daylight, seemed as if they’d been scheduled for months. In fact, despite being married for only a week, Olivia felt as if her union to Michael Cunningham had been in place much longer. She was confident enough to speak about anything with him and comfortable enough to allow him to see her naked, even in daylight. And, although he seemed to share the same comfort in speaking with her, he was a bit more modest about appearing nude in front of her in the light of day.

  8:00 a.m., earlier that day

  “I am not as handsome in body as you are beautiful in yours,” Michael said in his own defense as he pulled his shirt over his head before trying to leave their marriage bed that morning.

  Olivia smiled at that, a slight flush coloring her face. “I find your body very handsome, certainly more so than the bodies of the Grecian statuary in the back garden,” she argued, holding her head up from the bed on her hand, her elbow pressed into the mattress as she watched him.

  Michael paused in his attempt to get out of bed. “You’ve looked at the nude statues in the garden?” he wondered, his eyebrows dancing as he asked the question, a clear sign he intended to tease her about the subject.

  “Indeed,” Olivia answered with a cocked eyebrow, not the least bit embarrassed. “And there isn’t a one of them I would want in bed with me.” After a short pause and a snort from Michael, she added, “Besides, their pricks are far too small.”

  His mouth, open in shock at her comment, suddenly closed and he settled back into bed. “You are a wanton woman!” he accused in a hoarse whisper, covering himself with the counterpane. There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his tone. “Tell me, how is it that you are not ... modest .. with me?” he wondered, remembering that her sister was quite modest the day he helped her dress for their walk to meet Arthur. But Olivia had never covered herself nor asked that the lamplight be extinguished when she was unclothed.

  Olivia considered his question, her face coloring up a bit. “I have imagined you making love to me many times over the past few years,” she replied in a whisper, “So, I suppose I thought you had already seen me ... nude,” she reasoned, wondering if he was really as shocked as his accusation would indicate.

  Michael considered her words, taking them as a compliment and feeling quite satisfied with himself. “And ... how did I do in your mind’s eye?” he asked then, surprised that she had fantasies about him.

  Perhaps even on the same nights he was fantasizing about her.

  Olivia regarded him for a moment, aware of what he might be thinking. “Reality is far better,” she answered as she climbed atop him, kissing him quite thoroughly.

  10:30 a.m.

  “Here, allow me,” Olivia said with a grin as she took the jewelry and fastened it around Eloisa’s neck. “This is so beautiful with the gown,” she said as she admired the string of pearls in the mirror’s reflection. The matching earbobs were already in place, their tiny diamonds providing a bit of sparkle against the smooth, matte surface of the pearls. “Your groom is here. He is qu
ite a catch, I think. Are you ready?”

  Eloisa nodded, glad to hear her sister’s approval. “As I’ll ever be,” she replied. She followed Olivia down the steps to the parlor and was shocked when Arthur kissed her on the mouth in front of her sister and Michael. “Arthur!” she admonished him, her face coloring to a deep pink.

  “Good morning, my princess,” he replied, not about to show the least bit of embarrassment given the display of affection put on by Michael and Olivia only moments before. “You are the most beautiful bride I could hope for,” he whispered, kissing her temple and giving her a hug about the shoulders. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Arthur Huntington?”

  Eloisa beamed, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, yes!” she replied with a nod.

  3:30 p.m.

  “You are so beautiful when you are in ecstasy,” Michael whispered, wrapping an arm under Olivia and pulling her so that she was resting against him, her head in the small of his shoulder. Only moments before they had returned from having ices at Gunter’s, Michael driving a single horse that pulled his fashionable curricle back to Grosvenor Square while one of Arthur Huntington’s grooms drove the newlyweds’ barouche to Arthur’s house in Cavendish Square, its occupants no doubt currently enjoying the same afternoon delight in which the Cunninghams were engaging.

  The short wedding ceremony, nearly identical to the one Michael and Olivia experienced the week before, seemed more solemn, more serious somehow, but Olivia figured it was just because she followed this one word for word, when her own had been such a blur she could hardly remember any of the details. As witnesses, she and Michael had held hands throughout, occasionally glancing at one another. And when the vicar pronounced Eloisa and Arthur husband and wife, it was Olivia and Michael who kissed one another.

  Olivia wrapped an arm over his chest and slid a leg between his, the top of her thigh touching him suggestively. “And how often might I be that beautiful?” she teased, her fingertips circling his nipples and tickling him where the crisp curls hovered over his chest.