by Ruth Regan
"What's going on in that mind of yours, Lady Eliot?" he breathed.
"I...I was hoping that I will please you."
Eliot said nothing. He only stood from the bed, where he had taken a seat to watch her disrobe. Slowly, he approached her. When he stood directly in front of her, he looked down into her eyes with an intensity that almost made Cara look away again. But she fought to hold his gaze, for there was warmth in it – and hunger.
"Don't you know that you pleased me the moment I met you? Don't you know that since I laid eyes upon you, I've wanted nothing and no one else?"
As soon as the words landed on her ears, she realized that this was what she wanted to hear, but hadn't dared to hope was the truth. For, in all honesty, it was exactly the way she felt. Even if she hadn't been able to admit it to herself right away. He smiled down on her, drinking her in with his deep blue eyes. The candles flickered warmly.
"Kiss me, you fool," he breathed.
And Cara did.
His hands were on the stays of her corset now, loosing them swiftly. When it was completely undone, his lips left her mouth and began to travel down her neck again. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and her heart was racing. Lord Eliot pulled the loosened corset down quickly. As the thick material brushed over her nipples, she felt them harden, sending little currents of pleasure through her chest. But that sweetness was nothing compared to the sharp burst of sensation she felt when his mouth itself found her right nipple. His tongue flicked over it once, twice. Then he placed his lips over it and sucked gently. She cried out, letting her head fall back as untold pleasure worked its way through her, all the way down to her loins. It felt as though her nipple was attached to her sex by some strong invisible thread. Her breathing was ragged now, and she moaned as his mouth moved from one breast to the other.
Then he knelt and began to move his lips down over her ribcage. As he pulled her corset and petticoat down further, she made no effort to stop the dance of her hips. She wasn't even quite aware of it. She was losing herself in the heat and desire of the moment, her eyes closed, her hands in her husband's thick honey locks. When his tongue brushed a place just below her hipbone, Cara clutched the back of his head and moaned thickly.
"Oh, Eliot..."
Finally, he worked the petticoat and corset down over her hips. She didn't dare move. She stood before him now in her shoes, stockings and pantalettes. Lord Eliot washed no time in hitching his fingers over the latter and pulling them down smoothly.
Feeling nothing but a wild, urgent need, Cara looked deeply into his eyes as he exposed her sex. He sighed in appreciation to see her nakedness, and the sound gratified her more than words could say. As he helped her step out of the pantalettes, she felt as though her sex was slick and swollen, begging to be touched. Hurriedly, she kicked her shoes off and bent to push down her stockings. All this time, she never took her eyes from Eliot. His mouth was open just a bit, and she could see that his breathing was fast, like her own. His chest rose and fell with each intake of air, giving her ample opportunity to appreciate his body – its strength and masculinity.
When she straightened and stood completely naked before him, a ragged sigh escaped his lips. Quick as wink, he was on his feet and Cara just had time to see the thick bulge at the front of his trousers before he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He deposited her on it gently, meeting her eyes again.
"I have to have you. I have to be inside of you, love," he growled.
The words sent a wild thrill through every part of her being.
"Yes!" she moaned breathlessly, reaching for him. "Yes!"
Eliot hoisted himself over her, settling between her legs quickly. He began to kiss her wildly. Her mouth locked to her husband's, Cara reached down between them. She wanted to feel every inch of him – to touch him where she had never touched a man before. She let her instinct and her passion guide her, and when her fingers grazed the fabric over his hard length, he groaned into the kiss. His pleasure at her touch was evident, and it spurred her on. She began to help him undo his buttons, but suddenly she was trembling so much that she couldn't seem to manage. Tenderly, he drew her hand up to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.
"Let me. I've had more practice, after all."
She nodded, looking deeply into his eyes. With a steady hand, he finished the work she had begun. When the warm, hard length of him sprang out against her thigh, Cara gasped. His manhood felt so large, so impossibly large. But he was also warm, and his skin was soft. An undeniable new hunger rose up in her. She could barely breathe as he guided himself to the center of her need. When his tip brushed against the sensitive folds of her sex, she shuddered longingly, never breaking her husband's intent gaze. She knew her life was about to change in this moment. And, she wanted the change very, very badly. She wrapped her arms over his back, entwining her fingers in his damp hair, willing him to go on.
He began to push inside of her. She felt herself tight around him. There was no pain – not yet – only the sensation of being stretched. It was delicious. Soon, though, she could tell her husband was meeting with resistance: her innocence. He stopped.
"Cara, I..."
"Don't stop, Eliot! Please!"
"I love you. I love you," he said, his voice breaking with emotion, and then he pushed all the way into her in a single hard motion. As he took her virginity, Cara cried out with sharp pain and pleasure into the silence of the rectory. Eliot stilled above her, kissing her neck softly. She knew that he was giving her time to adjust to the new sensation, to let the pain die down, but it subsided quickly.
"Take me," she whispered, spreading her fingers over his back and pulling him close. "Take me, husband."
He drew himself slowly out, almost completely, and then pushed in again. For a moment, the stinging pain rose up again, making her cry out. But soon, it was gone. And when he thrust a third time, he seemed to touch some deep, sweet place inside of her. Warm pleasure began to course through her loins.
"My love!" she moaned, her whole body opening to him, blossoming in pleasure, her sex throbbing and wet. She was vaguely aware of his body becoming rigid above her, his manhood buried to the hilt in her sex. He shuddered in her arms, his hips making little involuntary thrusts. Cara felt herself filled with his warm seed – never had anything been so good.
After a moment, he collapsed over her. She welcomed the weight of his body, the feel of his sweat-drenched brow against her neck. His curly golden hair was damp as she wound her fingers through it, their bodies relaxing as they rode the last waves of their climax out to sea.
Chapter Eight
"You're always blushing in my presence, Lady Eliot."
Cara knew it was true. She could feel the hot flush in her cheeks. It was morning and she was lying naked on the rectory's bed. Eliot had gotten up to wash his face, but instead of coming to back to bed right away, he was standing at the foot of it, gazing at her intently. Of course, she was blushing.
"I like it when you call me that," she said.
"What? 'Lady Eliot?’"
She nodded, covering her eyes with the back of her hand and smiling.
"Well, as of last night, it is your name."
And then he pounced onto the bed, jostling her and making her laugh breathlessly. He came to lie very close to her, propping his temple on his right fist and looking down into her eyes. His left hand found one of her breasts and began to lazily caress it. His touch made her nipples harden instantly, and she could feel her desire awaken like a morning glory opening at the sun's first kiss. She sighed and stretched, arching her back up to better meet his fingers. Never had she felt so relaxed, so at ease.
And then the knock came on the rectory's door. Cara rushed to pull the covers up to her chin, and Lord Eliot flung the sheet about his waist as he called out.
"Come in!"
A second later, the door pushed open and Father Matthew's young face appeared in it. When he saw the couple in bed, he made Cara quick compan
y in blushing.
"Umm, oh, excuse me, my Lord, my Lady," he stammered.
"It's quite alright, Father," Eliot said blithely. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back. "Please! Come in! This is your rectory, after all."
"Oh, no, no, no!" Father Mathew replied hurriedly. Then he cleared his throat.
"Was there something you wanted to tell us?" Eliot inquired when the pause became uncomfortable. Cara had to smile. The young priest's awkward embarrassment was utterly charming.
"Erm, yes! I just wanted to inform you of the lateness of the hour. It's past eleven o'clock, sir."
"Damn!" Eliot cried, glancing out the window for confirmation. Cara did so, as well, and the angle of the sunbeams streaming in the through the glass told her that the hour was, indeed, quite late. Without further hesitation, Eliot tossed the covers aside and sprang up, lunging for his shoes and clothes, which were piled in a heap in the corner.
"I'll leave you, then!" Father Matthew squeaked, obviously shocked by his Lord's lack of modesty. When the door closed behind the young priest, Cara couldn't help the guffaw of laughter that came from her.
"What?" Eliot asked slyly. He was bending over to pull his trousers on. Cara had an excellent view of his shapely bum, and her giggling only increased. Now his face grew stern. With mock seriousness, he approached the bed, towering over her.
"What is it, you silly woman?" he asked chidingly. But she could tell that he was having trouble keeping a straight face.
"Nothing," she murmured, biting her lip to stop the laughter. "Only that...my husband has such a lovely backside. No wonder the priest was shocked!"
He leaned in and gave her a playful kiss on the mouth. Then he pecked her hard on each cheek.
"Ow!" she cried.
"Pleasure is always the better for a little pain, love," he said with rakish grin.
"I think I found that out last night," she replied, her blush intensifying. He kissed her once more – this time softly and sensuously upon the lips. Then he pulled back.
"Hurry up! We're already late to our own reception!"
"Must we go?"
"I'm afraid we must," he said in a commanding tone. "After all, I did go to a lot of trouble to plan it. We should at least put in an appearance. Aren't you shivering with anticipation to see their reactions when we tell them that they've missed the wedding?"
She rolled her eyes. "You and your surprises. Tell me, husband, why do you love to spring things on people so very much?"
He stopped pulling his boots on for a moment and looked off into the distance, really considering the question. "Well...I suppose it's because it gives me a feeling of power."
She took this in, marveling at her husband's candor. It wasn't the most flattering admittance. But the honesty of it was truly to be admired.
"I like to be the one in the know," he continued to explain. "And besides, catching people off-guard always results in hilarity. For instance, what do you think your father's face will look like when he hears the news? Or his friend Colonel Simms? They'll be shocked! Don't tell me you're not going to get some enjoyment out of that!"
She smiled. She would indeed get some enjoyment out of seeing their faces. And when she thought about it a bit more, she realized that she and Lord Eliot were probably above any serious reproach. They were both of age, both widowed. Their elopement wasn't really so shocking when it came down to it – especially considering Lord Eliot's reputation for living on the edge.
Still, it was with some reluctance that she crawled from the warmth of the covers. A large part of her never wanted to leave this small room. She stood by the bed and stretched, watching Lord Eliot don his coat. He was out the door the next minute, giving her another quick kiss and telling her he'd saddle Lodestar and Shadow.
When the door closed behind him, Cara made her way to the ceramic basin to splash some water on her face and straighten her hair. Suddenly alone, she found herself to be deeply and truly happy. It was, perhaps, the greatest surprise of all. As she did up her corset to the best of her ability and stepped into her blue wedding gown (a bit rumpled from the night it had spent on the floor of the rectory), she was humming under her breath.
Mrs. Quentin Eliot. I am Mrs. Quentin Eliot!
***
Shadow and Lodestar carried them across the moors at a soaring gallop. The spring sun warmed the earth, and the birds were singing. It was a glorious day. Cara didn't think she had ever seen fluffy clouds so perfectly white or a sky so brilliantly blue. As they rode, the natural wonders all around effectively kept her distracted from any residual anxiety about attending the reception. In fact, she felt surprisingly confident and eager to face the crowds. Perhaps it would be fun.
They approached Hedgeton from the North. Now, in the daylight, she was better able to assess the lay of the land. Although she was a bit sore from the diversions of the previous night, she managed to stand in the saddle to get a better view of the prospect up ahead as they crested a hill. There was Hedgeton Manor – no bigger than a teacup on the horizon. It was beautiful. Cara could see the hedge maze off to the right of the great house and the long driveway that led down to the road. As they rode closer, she could see that there were one or two vehicles and several riders – latecomers to the festivities, no doubt – on the driveway. But the flattened area just in front of the manor was positively packed with curricles, barouches, and the odd carriage. The day was so fair that most of the guests appeared to have opted for open-air conveyances.
They were a quarter mile away when the first faint notes of string music wafted to them on the breeze. Lord Eliot reined up now, and Cara did so, too, coming to a stop beside her husband.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well," she said. "It sounds to me like you hired a chamber group!"
"A chamber group? No, my dear. Don't be silly. I hired an orchestra!"
Her mouth dropped open. "An orchestra?"
"We only get married once. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true in our cases," Eliot said with a grin. "Fine, we're each getting married for the second time, but it's the first and only time we're marrying each other. I figured the occasion called for a little decadence."
She could only smile and shake her head.
"Come on," Lord Eliot said, urging Lodestar forward into a trot. "I have an idea."
Chapter Nine
They gave Hedgeton a wide birth, diving into the trees on its western side. Soon Cara understood what Eliot meant to do. The sound of the music was louder back here, and she could tell by the pure, unfettered tones that the musicians were likely seated outside, in the back courtyard area, which was exactly where they seemed to be heading. She also guessed that wherever the music was, that's where the celebration would be centered. When they emerged at a gallop into the cleared green just behind the courtyard, her suspicion was confirmed. As soon as they were spotted, she saw guest after guest arise. Ladies lifted their fans to their foreheads, shading their eyes to get a better view of their host and hostess' approach. Several people called out. "Look! Look there!" The general commotion was astounding – and quite gratifying. The music petered out as one by one the musicians stopped playing and took to gawking as well.
Lord Eliot led the charge all the way up to the low stone wall separating the courtyard from the green. He reigned up hard, and Lodestar reared impressively, snorting and whinnying in a grand display. One of the ladies nearest the low rock wall fainted dead away at the sight. Her fat husband had a time trying to bear her weight as she fell directly onto him. Cara had to bite back the urge to giggle at the sight. In this particular moment, she could plainly see what Eliot had meant about people doing the damnedest things when they were surprised.
Eliot was dismounting now, his cheeks ruddy and a merry twinkle in his eye. He handed the reins to a stable boy and his gloves to the valet Pierson, both of whom seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Cara dismounted, as well, helped by serving man in a white wig and formal suit, who had also appeared ou
t of thin air. "Welcome home, Madame," he said formally, as he took her cloak from her shoulders and folded it over his arm.
She had begun to suspect that her husband had planned their surprise entrance in just this way. Eliot stood regally now, running a hand through his honey locks as Pierson brushed him off and took his long riding coat. Watching him, Cara sensed a change in his attitude. He seemed suddenly distracted, distant. But when she caught his eye, he winked at her and extended his hand. She took it, feeling a completely illogical stab of anxiety. But she didn't have time to dwell on it, for the next second Eliot was sweeping her in a wide arc before the guests, allowing them all a good look at her beautiful blue dress. She could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. She was not used to such displays – especially of her own person – but she wasn't about to deny her husband anything in this moment. He was obviously the master of ceremonies. And after last night, she trusted him implicitly.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, my wife and I welcome you to Hedgeton!"
General hubbub and whispering ensued. He let it play out. Now, standing at his side, she looked up at him, but he didn't shoot her a glance. He was too busy observing the effect his words had had upon the gathering.
"Your wife!? What do you mean, sir?"
The cry rang out above all else, and she recognized the voice. She turned towards it. Sure enough, there was her father, his brows drawn together and a shocked, questioning look on his face. Predictably, Colonel Simms was at his side. Now that she was off her father's hands for good, Cara supposed Lord Calloway was free to occupy his time however he wished, which, evidently, was proving to be mostly in the company of the silly Colonel. Cara even surmised that Simms had probably taken up residence at Boyle Estate in her absence.
"Why, yes, Father!" Eliot replied.
"But, but..." Lord Calloway sputtered. "I assumed I would be present at my own daughter's nuptials!"