Persuading Patience

by Emma V. Leech

  “Nothing to say?” he taunted, moving closer as Patience swallowed. She shook her head, for once at a loss for words.

  “Touch me, then,” he said, challenge gleaming in his eyes.

  Patience licked her lips and then touched a tentative hand to his waist, her fingers trailing lower, over his hip bone. She splayed her hand, her thumb stroking his skin, still startled by how soft it was. Her other hand joined her investigation, following the trail of golden hair that led her lower still. Patience heard his intake of breath as one finger traced the length of his arousal. Here, he was like silk, and she curled her fingers around him, enjoying the warmth and the delicate silkiness, such a contrast against the unyielding hardness.

  August made a low sound, and dropped his head, his breathing deeper now, harsher. She looked up and her own breath was stolen as he kissed her hard. She moved to release her hold on him, but he shook his head, curling his own hand around hers. “Don’t stop.”

  He showed her how to move her hand, how to caress him, and Patience experience a rush of power. It was heady, the way his breath caught, the heat in his eyes as his desire increased. It was not all one-sided, by any means, however, as one large hand cupped her breast and squeezed, his thumb rubbing over the thin material and teasing the delicate flesh hidden from view.

  “You’re wearing far too many clothes,” he grumbled, tugging at the fastenings he’d been so determined to do up just hours earlier. Patience released him, quite agreeing with that statement and determined to rectify it immediately. Between them they wrestled with hooks and ties and tugged and wriggled, until there was a matching pile of clothes beside August’s.

  August knelt on the floor, having just divested her of her stockings, and looked up. Patience felt a little daunted all at once, wondering how she compared to the slender beauties he was no doubt used to, and moved to cover herself with her hands.

  “Stop that,” he scolded, pushing her hands away. “How can I admire you if you cover yourself up?”

  Patience bit her lip, and concentrated on the look in his eyes. He really did look like he was admiring her, she had to admit.

  “So lovely,” he murmured, his hands going to her waist. He leaned in and kissed the soft swell of her stomach, the touch of his lips to her bare skin so extraordinary that she shivered with anticipation. He kissed a trail lower, and then so low that Patience exclaimed with shock and moved back. The bed hit the back of her legs and she tumbled onto it with a further exclamation. Looking at him from her prone position, and feeling more than a little ridiculous, she found August’s amused green eyes looking at her with affection.

  “Did I shock you, love?” he asked, grinning at her and looking totally unrepentant. “I’m afraid I’m going to do it again.”

  He moved closer once more and kissed the inside of her knee, and then her lower thigh, and he kept on, trailing over her skin with lips and tongue as Patience was torn between being utterly scandalised and melting into a puddle.

  “Did no one explain to you,” he asked, his breath tickling her skin as his words fluttered against her, “what happens on your wedding night?”

  “Y-yes,” Patience squeaked, as he ran his tongue along the crease between thigh and torso and she squirmed beneath him. “Cilly did, b-but she must have left a few d-details out.”

  August chuckled, the sound of it moving through her as his mouth was against her skin. “Good,” he murmured. “Then there is plenty for me to shock you with yet.”

  Before she could think of the kind of reply the comment merited, his mouth covered a part of her she couldn’t even have named, and all coherent thought left her. She was reduced to a creature of sensation, one that could not think or speak, but only feel. Clutching at the bedclothes, she exclaimed, breathing hard and finding the most outrageous cries of pleasure being torn from her as his sinful tongue dismantled her sanity. With each fractured sound, she seemed to drive him on, fuelling his desire to take her higher, to force her to let go of any hold she might have on propriety and fall into wickedness with him. For surely this was some sort of devilry. All at once, she understood, understood the reputation he had gained in a way she never had before. She knew now what those whispered conversations had meant, why women had desired him and thrown themselves at him. If this was what it was like to be with him, she could well understand the risks they would take, just for a taste of him.

  Patience arched beneath him, the tension unbearable. She felt dizzy, like her blood was fizzing in her veins as some sort of resolution hovered just out of sight.

  “Let go,” he whispered, even his breath a tortuous pleasure against her over sensitive flesh. “Trust me, love. Let go.”

  He returned to his delicious torment and Patience did as he asked, letting go of any preconceived notions of what love and the expression of it ought to be like. She closed her eyes and followed where he led as pleasure rushed over her. Light and colour dazzled her as her body was consumed by the waves of release, crashing over her as she called out in surprise and shock, awed by the sheer strength of it as her body was devoured, consumed by a force far greater than anything she’d ever known.

  ***

  August got to his feet and moved to the bed, staring at the results of his attentions with delight. God, but his wife was lovely. How he could ever have thought her plain, he couldn’t fathom. Perhaps she was not conventionally pretty, he would allow that much, and found he was glad for it. She was so much more, and she stole his breath. He body was a voluptuous landscape of curves and valleys, all softness and invitation. Her skin was perfection, flushed as it was with desire. Hearing his name at her lips as pleasure took her over the edge had been enough to drive him far too close to it himself and he found himself impatient now, desperate to show her what came next.

  Easing himself between her legs, he smiled as she blinked up at him, her eyes still hazy with desire and pleasure.

  “There you are,” he said, smiling at her as he lowered his body against hers. “I’m glad you’re still with me.”

  Patience made a quiet noise of outrage. “Am I?” she murmured, sounding rather dazed. “I’m not quite sure where I am.”

  “Oh?” he said, grinning as he nudged inside of her, watching her eyes widen in surprise. “And now?”

  “Oh,” she said, a breathless sound as she clutched at his shoulders.

  August pressed forward a little more, finding his own breath catch as the pleasure of it stole his wits. “And now?” he demanded, staring down at her.

  “Yes,” she replied, clinging to him, moving in such a way to encourage him in, giving herself to him. “Yes, August.”

  It was a strange feeling, a powerful sensation bursting in his chest as he looked down at his wife, knowing that she was his alone, and he hers. He thrust harder, knowing he would likely hurt her and wanting the pain of it over quickly, he wanted nothing to spoil this for her. Her fingers tightened on his skin, her nails digging in for a moment, but then the tension left her as he moved within her and she sighed.

  “Oh, love,” he murmured against her skin. “Oh, yes.”

  It was perfection, the way they fit together. The anticipation that had been driving him insane over the past days so very worthwhile for this exquisite moment. August sighed as her hands moved over him, discovering him for the first time. One hand found his face and he turned into it, kissing her palm. He looked down at her, finding her watching him, her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kissing him, and she smiled, the warmth of it settling into his heart as pleasure rose inside him. Lowering his head, he kissed her, soft and sweet as her hand slid into his hair, caressing the back of his neck as she gazed at him.

  “I love you,” he whispered, gasping as the desire stole what little remained of his control and he moved faster within her. Nothing before had ever felt like this, and although he’d come to realise his life had been empty, it was only now he realised the depths of the void. He’d been nothing more than a façade, a handsome face with
no substance behind it, drifting through life and faking a smile, pretending he was having the time of his life. Perhaps once it had been true, but he’d been pretending for so long, he hardly knew the difference. All he knew now was that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone, that this feeling was real and true and good, and he was never going to let it go.

  Patience made a sound beneath him, low and decadent as she moved with him, seeking her own pleasure, and it was too much. August cried out, lost in the luxury of her body, in his delight at discovering her pleasure with him. Patience clung to him as he shuddered, her hands clutching at him as she too trembled. There was nothing he could do to muffle the fierce sound torn from him, the ecstasy of it too great to deny.

  August collapsed, trying to shield her from the burden of his weight, but Patience just tugged him closer until his arms gave out.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled into her neck, aware he was crushing her, though she didn’t seem to mind. “Can’t move.”

  “Me either,” came a muffled sound, and he became dimly aware of the amusement in her voice. Cracking open one eye he looked at her, finding her grinning at him, her eyes alight with mischief.

  “What are you grinning about like a lunatic?” he asked, smiling too, but at the joyous feeling that seemed to be filling his own heart so entirely he wondered at its capacity not to burst.

  Patience shook her head, which naturally provoked his interest.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, intrigued now.

  “I can’t,” she murmured, though it was a rather strangled sound.

  “I’ll tickle you if you don’t,” he warned, one hand moving to her waist in a manner that made her squeal and wriggle in a rather delightful manner.

  “No! August, stop that!” she shrieked, squirming and laughing and protesting all at once.

  “Tell me then,” he insisted, as she gasped for breath.

  “I was just remembering something,” she said, glaring at him now, though she didn’t look the least bit cross. “When we were at the rout party that Cilly gave when we came to Bath.”

  “Oh?” He shifted a little onto his side so that he could look at her and she mirrored his position. August tugged at her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Were you remembering how obnoxious you were to me, by chance?”

  “I was not obnoxious,” Patience retorted, an indignant expression crossing her face. “You deserved everything you got,” she added with a sniff.

  August chuckled and raised his hand to cup one full breast, his thumb toying with the nipple until it stiffened under his touch. “I quite agree,” he murmured, pleased with himself.

  He grinned as she gave a snort. “That was not what I meant, and stop interrupting me, you wanted to hear this.”

  “So I did,” he said, returning his attention to her face before he got thoroughly diverted.

  “Well,” she said, avoiding his eyes as her fingers played with the hair on his chest. “After you’d gone, I overheard some of the women talking. They were whispering about you, about things they’d heard about you.” She blushed and August grew still. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear this, coming from Patience.

  “Oh, don’t look so worried,” she said, smiling at him and leaning in for a kiss. “It’s just that after the gossip stopped, they all sighed about the chances of anyone ever marrying you. They were saying how you’d have to be beautiful, and an heiress to catch you, and lamenting the fact that they were all young and terribly beautiful but far too poor to catch your attention.” She shook her head, the laughter bubbling up again as her eyes glittered with merriment. “And just look … here you are with me, of all people! My word, they’ll think I blackmailed you into it.”

  August frowned, angry all at once. “Stop that,” he said, as her smile fell away. He let out a breath at the flicker of unease in her eyes, frustrated at having spoilt the perfection of the moment. Reaching out, he cupped her face with his hand, smoothing his thumb against her cheek.

  “What did I say?” she asked, sounding perplexed and worried.

  August leaned in, kissing her. “The reasons I fell for you ought to be perfectly obvious to anyone with half a brain, Patience,” he said, the words low and sincere. “You’re so much more than you realise, love.”

  Patience gave a startled little laugh, her smile a bit crooked as she gave him an affectionate look. “Oh, August,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t have to charm me, you know. We both know that I’m no beauty, you were quite forthcoming about that yourself, remember.”

  August wanted to bite his tongue out for having even alluded to such a thing, but he knew it was true enough. He shook his head anyway, denying it because he’d been a bloody fool and he just couldn’t see it any longer. It was like he’d been wearing blinkers his whole life and they’d only fallen away when he’d kissed the woman before him. “I was blind and ignorant,” he said, still sounding angry, though it was at himself now. “You’re the most lovely and astonishing woman I’ve ever taken to bed, Patience, and there won’t ever be another. Just believe that.”

  Patience stared at him, her eyes glittering as she blinked back tears, and he smiled, knowing the ridiculous creature still didn’t believe him. Well, he’d just have to keep convincing her. It wasn’t such a terrible job, after all. August took her hand, guiding it down from where it rested at his chest, wrapping her long fingers around his arousal as his breath caught.

  “You see what you do to me,” he murmured in her ear, and set about making sure his wife was in no doubt of his sincerity.

  Chapter 20

  “Wherein the future seems perfect, until our heroine discovers a mother-in-law in the ointment.

  Patience leaned her head on August’s shoulder, watching the countryside as it rumbled past outside the carriage window. He’d had a picnic prepared for them for lunch and they’d enjoyed an idyllic hour by a little stream, August stretched in the sun like a big, golden cat. A lion, of course, she thought with a smile, remembering the way the sun had glinted on his hair, burnishing his perfection.

  It still seemed like a dream. Too perfect to be real. It frightened her a little, that feeling. Surely nothing so good could last, it seemed too unlikely. She had ever been pragmatic, accepting her looks, her height, her build, her own outspoken nature. After all, she could have tried harder to make more of herself, tried harder to be pleasant and biddable, to make herself seem less of a challenge to any man who might have toyed with the idea of marrying her. But it would have been a lie, and Patience could not abide those. She was what she was, there was no hiding it, and she would not pretend just to avoid the humiliation of being an old maid. So if a man made some ridiculous statement, she would challenge him, finding most men of her acquaintance had little in the way of original thought. They just repeated the on dits of the day, accepting the judgements already given, as that was what the rest of the ton thought. They were just a flock of sheep. Occasionally she found an intelligent man who would challenge her in return, and she would enjoy the thrill of debating with a fine mind. Except then she would see the lurking disgust in the fellow’s eyes, that a woman should have opinions.

  August had never done that. Oh, he’d been angry with her before, furious, even. But she’d never felt his reproach. He’d always been honest. So why were his words so hard to accept, when they’d been given with such love and sincerity that she could hardly doubt them? She glanced up at his handsome profile, feeling her heart twist with a mixture of love and fear and longing. That was why.

  “How long will it take to get to Newmarket?” she asked. August had decided they should go and break the news to his mother as soon as possible. Though she had the impression that he was doing it because he didn’t dare do otherwise, rather than because he wanted to. They had sent letters to Cilly and Caro and Percy, telling them that they were indeed married and would see them soon. Patience had wanted to write to Stephen, too, to tell him she was sorry and … and she had no idea what. Somewhat to her
relief, August had refused to let her. He’d been surprisingly fierce about it, and Patience wondered at herself for not arguing with him. She didn’t like being told what to do, after all. Yet he’d been so furious with Stephen, terrified by the idea that she’d been so close to marrying a man who would likely beat and mistreat her. In truth, the idea made her own stomach clench with revulsion. Stephen had lied to her, tried to trick her into believing he was a different kind of man entirely, and she’d been taken in. August had never done that. He’d never pretended to be anything other than what he was, for better or worse. Except that it was only now that she realised how much more there was to him. The strangest part of it being that August didn’t seem to realise it himself.

  He looked around, sighing and looking rather sleepy. They’d slept very little last night after all, she remembered with a flush of warmth. He shrugged, not looking the least enthusiastic. “A year, hopefully,” he said with a snort, in answer to her question.

  Patience frowned at him. “Why don’t you want to go home?” she asked, as a good reason for his anxiety hit her in the stomach and made her want to demand they stop the carriage. She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Lord,” she murmured. “You think your mother will hate me.”

  “No!” he exclaimed, shaking his head, though there wasn’t a great deal of conviction in his eyes.

  “August,” she said, her tone severe and reproving. He let out a breath and sat back, looking rather ill himself.

  “It’s not you she won’t like,” he said after a long pause. He looked utterly miserable now, his green eyes heavy with anxiety.

  “What then?” she asked, slipping her hand into his, reassured when he curled his fingers around hers, drawing her hand into this lap.

  He took a breath, staring out of the window for a moment before turning back to her. “My mother is … a formidable woman,” he said, the words rather too careful for comfort. “She has very little opinion of me or … or my worth,” he said before giving a snort of amusement. “Not that I’ve ever given her any reason to think differently,” he added with a self-deprecating shrug that made Patience indignant for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Until very recently, she probably would have found a deal in common with Lady Marchmain’s opinions. “She doesn’t like me, trust me, or have any faith in my judgement, but the one task she did set me was to marry money.”