“Hallo!” Hannah called out, her face beaming from beneath her parasol as the men walked up. “Were you successful in catching our dinner?” she asked as the driver halted the carriage.
Henry held up the closed basket of fish. “Indeed. It appears you were successful on your shopping trip, as well,” he ventured, rather stunned at the varied assortment of parcels filling the carriage. “Is there anything left in the shops in Bampton?”
Barbara and Hannah both giggled, the sound almost musical to Will’s hears. “Of course,” Barbara replied. “Although I did have to pull your wife out of one store. I do believe she would have emptied all the shelves if she could have,” she claimed.
“Shh, it’s a surprise,” Hannah said, her smile broadening.
Henry reached over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. “I’m off to the kitchens with our catch,” he said.
“And then a bath, I hope,” she suggested, one eyebrow arching up.
“And then a bath,” Henry agreed, giving a nod to Will. “I’ll have hot water taken up to your bedchamber, too,” he said before he headed off to the door leading into the kitchens.
Will assisted Hannah from the carriage and then turned to help Barbara. “Our son caught both the largest and the smallest trout,” he said as he offered his arm. He grimaced when he suddenly remembered he had said Donald could give his mother the news.
“He’s the one that needs the bath,” she said with a grin, giving Donald a kiss on his cheek as Will lowered him to the ground.
“Father let me ride him all the way from the river,” the boy said happily.
“Did he now?” Barbara replied as she turned her attention back to the carriage. “Well, now he’s going to have to carry some packages. And you will, as well,” she said as she indicated which ones they should take.
“What’s in the big box?” Will wondered as he passed a couple of smaller parcels to Donald.
“Lord Gisborn’s birthday present,” she replied with an arched eyebrow. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “A welding device, your sister called it. She said it produces an arc between two...” She paused and gave a slight shrug.
“Electrodes?” Will guessed.
Barbara’s eyes widened. “Yes! For metals,” she said. “How is it you know that?” she wondered as she pointed to another parcel.
Will grinned as he climbed up into the carriage, finding it amusing his sister would have the wherewithal to order an arc welder for her husband. “We had one aboard ship, of course,” he replied. He gathered the parcels she indicated, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. “Did you buy something for me?”
Her head angled to one side, Barbara regarded him for a moment. “Yes, but it’s a surprise.”
Blinking, Will allowed an, “Oh,” before he gathered the rest of the smaller hat boxes into a stack. “Are these all yours?” he wondered. “Or my sister’s.”
“Donald’s,” she replied with a nod. “He needs clothes desperately,” she whispered as she handed several to her son and sent him off. “Take these to your room, but don’t open them until after you’ve had a bath,” she ordered.
“Yes, mum,” he replied as he hurried off.
“I do hope you bought some for yourself as well.”
Barbara nodded. “I did. Thank you for the money. You didn’t have to do that.”
Will jumped down from the carriage to regard her for a moment. “I did, actually. He’s my son. And there’s more where that came from. I didn’t spend much while I was away, so I have most of eight years of my naval pay in my bank account,” he explained. “I expect I’ll be using some of it do the repairs to Bellingham Park, but there’s plenty to cover our other expenses. My father gives me an allowance, as well.”
Had they been in London, he never would have spoken of money with anyone but his banker, but out here, far away from the ton and with a woman who’d had to manage her funds, he thought it acceptable to tell her of his plans.
Barbara stiffened at his words. “Bellingham Park?”
Will chuckled as he picked up the boxes and led her to the front door of Gisborn Hall. “Ellsworth Park has a new name. It was Donald’s idea, and since he’ll be the one inheriting it, it seemed appropriate,” he explained.
Her eyes widening at his words, Barbara stopped in her tracks. “Inheriting?” she repeated. “But, he cannot.”
“It’s unentailed property. When I buy it from Henry, it will be mine to do with as I please. Since Donald won’t be able to inherit any of the Devonville properties, I wanted to be sure there would be something for him,” he explained. “He’ll be next door to his cousins,” he added.
Barbara blinked back tears, stunned by his words. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” she whispered.
Will allowed a sigh before he leaned down to kiss one of her eyelids. “A bit,” he admitted. “I have a bastard brother. He had all the privileges most don’t. He still does.”
Like father, like son, he realized suddenly. Jesus.
“Anyway, it’s only fair,” he added and then realized tears were dripping down her cheeks. “Oh, don’t cry.”
Barbara sniffled before allowing a nod. “All right. But I’ll not be giving you your package until after you’ve had a bath. You smell like a fishmonger,” she accused with a wry grin.
Behaving as if he’d been mortally wounded, Will led her up the steps to the front doors of Gisborn Hall. “Will you wash my back?” he teased just as the butler appeared.
Her gasp of shock had Will suppressing a grin as he gave Parkerhouse a wink.
The ancient butler merely rolled his eyes as he closed the doors.
Chapter 48
A Bedchamber to Call His Own
Meanwhile, back in Mayfair
Victoria regarded the mistress suite for nearly a full minute before she turned her attention to Stephen. “This is my room?” she asked, stunned to find a large mahogany four-poster bed, two large chest-of-drawers, a vanity topped by an oval mirror and a cheval mirror tucked into a corner.
“It is, my lady,” Stephen answered, his own attention entirely on the bed.
“May I see yours?”
Stephen swallowed. Hard. “If you’d like,” he replied, leading her to the connecting dressing room door. They passed through the long room, its emptiness at odds with the rest of the house. “I don’t believe I would ever own enough clothes to fill this,” Victoria said as she regarded the row of hooks on one wall and the row of shelving along the other.
“Good, because we have to share,” Stephen said with a wink. He opened the door into the master bedchamber and stepped aside to allow Victoria to pass. She did so, pausing to spin around slowly as she took in the deep blue fabrics trimmed with gold, the masculine furnishings, the giant stone fireplace, and the thick carpet beneath her feet.
“Are you sure you wish to share this with me?” Victoria wondered as her gloved hands slid over the mahogany dresser top. She moved to the window, where velvet drapes were pulled back to reveal sheers and the windows of other townhouses. Below, a mews housed carriages and horses.
“Just the bed,” Stephen replied, once again fighting his reaction to her suggestive comment. “I wasn’t necessarily referring to the whole room...”
Victoria removed the tiebacks from the drapes and the room dimmed to near darkness. She was suddenly in front of him, pulling her bonnet from her head. “I’ve never been with a man before,” she said, her words sounding rather breathless.
Stephen blinked. “I rather hope not,” he replied, his brows furrowing as he wondered why she would close the drapes.
“About tomorrow... I don’t wish to spend my wedding day being nervous about what it is that happens in a marriage bed,” she whispered as she unbuttoned her pelisse and removed it. She draped it over the back of a chair and then removed her gloves, pulling on the fingers one by one until they were completely free of her hands.
Stephen could only watch, mesmerized by h
er slow movements, his heart suddenly racing in anticipation. He cleared his throat. “Oh?” was all he could manage.
“If we do this now, then I will at least know what to expect tomorrow night,” she continued, as if she were talking herself into allowing him to bed her.
“Now?” Stephen gulped, hardly believing his ears. Good God! I’m marrying a wanton!
“Do you need help with your buttons?” Victoria asked as she stepped in front of him, her fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of his topcoat and then his waistcoat.
“No,” Stephen replied, although his own fingers seemed to refuse to assist hers in undressing him. He was still finding it hard to believe she was suggesting he bed her before it was his right to do so.
“I’ve never been undressed in front a man before,” Victoria stated as she turned around, hoping Stephen would undo the buttons down the back of her gown without being told to do so.
“I should hope not,” he replied, managing to gulp without making a sound. After a pause, he suddenly realized what he was supposed to do. Unfortunately, his fingers were all thumbs, and he struggled to open her gown. When he did, though, a different part of his brain seemed to take over, the part of his brain that knew exactly what to do and how to do it.
The flat of first one hand and then the other settled onto her exposed back, just above her corset. They slid over her bare skin as he pushed the edges of her gown aside, guiding the fabric over her shoulders and down to her elbows. She did the rest to remove her arms from the sleeves, and the gown fell into a puddle at her feet. Stephen had the tapes of her petticoats undone next, and they followed the gown down to her ankles. Pantaloons soon fell, and wordless, Victoria stepped out of them.
“May I remove your corset?” Stephen whispered just before his lips took purchase on a shoulder blade and kissed it.
Victoria inhaled sharply and allowed a nod, not trusting her voice just then. She had felt so confident only a moment ago, and then, as her clothing fell from her body, she suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. Was he expecting her to be fleshy? Slender? Buxom? Flat? She was none of those!
He had to have seen naked women before. Everyone who had ever seen paintings by the masters had, she supposed. But she also figured he had to have bedded other women. He had been in the Navy. He had probably been with a different woman in every port!
She felt the tug on her corset ties, felt them give way and the bindings loosen from around her torso.
Tamping down her nervousness, Victoria suddenly turned around then, her hands making quick work of removing his topcoat and waistcoat. She draped them over the chair and returned to stand before him, her gaze darting about in an attempt to learn what to remove next.
“Cravat,” Stephen suggested, his breaths becoming shorter and the suddenly tight neckcloth not helping the situation.
Victoria carefully removed the onyx-tipped pin from his snowy white cravat and set it onto the nearby dresser. Her fingers pulled the ends of the cravat from their anchors, and she slowly unwound the silk from around his neck until it was one long strip of fabric.
“What do I do next?”
Stephen swallowed and wondered how to respond. “Nothing,” he finally said, his hands moving to lower the corset down over her hips and to the floor. He felt Victoria place a hand on his shoulder for support as she stepped out of the garment. Although he was about to stand up, he realized he could undo the ribbon garters of her stockings from where he was.
Placing a hand behind her thigh—he could feel Victoria’s startled reaction and hear her gasp as his hand made contact—he used the other hand to untie the blue satin ribbon. With both hands, he carefully unrolled the stocking, his hands shaking nearly as much as Victoria’s legs seemed to shiver beneath his touch.
She stepped out of her slipper as the stocking came off her foot completely, unaware of Stephen moving to kiss her thigh before he started on the other garter.
The sensation of his lips on the tender skin had Victoria inhaling sharply and leaning harder on his shoulder, the tips of her fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt to leave half-moon indentations in his skin. She stepped out of her other slipper and stocking, acutely aware that the only garment still on her body was a translucent chemise.
“Jesus,” Stephen breathed when he stood up, his hardening cock tenting his already tight breeches.
Victoria’s eyebrows shot up as she moved to cover her breasts with her arms, not even realizing the dark curls at the tops of her thighs were visible through the chemise. “Are they—?”
“Gorgeous,” Stephen managed to croak. “Every bit of you,” he added, not bothering to hide his perusal of her near nakedness.
Victoria seemed to relax a bit, but she suddenly stepped forward to undo the closure at the top of his shirt. She had it untied in an instant before her hands began pulling the fine lawn from where it was tucked into his breeches. She soon had it pulled up and over his head, not bothering to drape it over the chair back but rather tossing it in the general direction of the chair. His bare chest had her swallowing hard, one hand coming out to touch it so only the pads of her fingers made contact. She quickly pulled it away, blinking as she did so.
Stephen captured the hand with one of his own, bringing it up to his lips so that he could bestow a kiss on her knuckles. “Please, don’t change your mind now,” he whispered, his voice barely able say the words.
Her eyebrows arching up, Victoria merely shook her head. “I might say the same to you,” she replied, suddenly aware of how heavy her breasts felt, of the moisture that had developed between her thighs, of how something there seemed to throb in anticipation. Even though the bedchamber was comfortably warm, her entire body was quivering.
Realizing Stephen was just as nervous as she was, her eyes darted to the bed and then back to him. “I don’t want you to be... disappointed,” she whispered.
Stephen’s arms were around her in an instant, pulling her hard against the front of his body as his lips sought hers. The kiss, urgent and quick, was nothing like the other kisses they had shared before. “I won’t be. I promise,” he whispered, his eyes closed as his forehead pressed against hers.
She nodded and seemed to relax against him, the fingers of one hand smoothing through the light dusting of hair on his chest, the pads barely touching his skin. She felt his body shiver and pulled her hand away as if she had burned her fingers. Feeling more than hearing his light chuckle, Victoria slid her hand down his torso. “What do I do next?” she asked in a whisper, her hands reaching for the fastenings of his breeches.
Realizing he would need to remove his boots before he could remove anything else, Stephen dared a glance toward the bed, hoping there were bed linens beneath the velvet counterpane. “Why don’t you... get into bed?” he replied, thinking if she wasn’t standing before him nearly naked, his brain might figure out how to remove his boots and breeches.
He watched as she moved to the bed, watched as the chemise shifted so one shoulder was left bare, watched as she bent over the mattress to pull down the counterpane, watched as the short chemise did nothing to cover the globes of her bare bottom, and finally allowed a sigh of relief when she slipped beneath the bed linens.
When she pulled the chemise from her body and tossed it to the end of the bed, her bare breasts suddenly on display above the counterpane as she sat regarding him, he nearly fainted.
“Jesus,” he murmured again.
Working one of his boot heels loose with his other foot, he was able to pull off one boot and then the other. Once he had his boots off, the stockings followed. Turning around, he undid the fastening on the placket of his breeches. He moved to pull down his breeches and smalls all at once, realizing too late his bare buttocks were aimed in the direction of the bed. And Victoria.
“Are you eyes closed, perchance?” he asked over his shoulder as he slowly straightened.
“Not a chance,” Victoria replied, a hint of humor in her voice.
/> Stephen turned around to make his way to the bed, doing nothing to hide his bobbing erection. He didn’t notice Victoria’s look of shock until he was climbing onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”
Victoria blinked. And blinked again. “I... I didn’t expect it to look quite like that,” she stammered.
Stephen considered her response. “On what did you base your expectation?” he wondered, rather glad they were having a conversation that helped to tamp down his erection. If he wasn’t careful, he would take his release far too early, the very last thing he wanted to do just then.
“Statues,” she replied, her knees rising beneath the covers. “Paintings.” She wrapped her arms around them in an effort to hide her nakedness.
Stephen nodded his understanding. At least she hadn’t seen a naked man in person before. “Statues rarely show a man in the company of a beautiful woman who is naked in his bed,” he said carefully.
Victoria considered the explanation. “So, it’s not always like that?” she questioned, her face and throat displaying a rather pink blush.
Sighing, Stephen shook his head. “Only when I think of you, or see you, or... now,” he said, his voice a bit breathless. “It’s no different than your nipples,” he whispered as he leaned over, his hand reaching out to gently push one of her knees down. He drew a finger over her hardened nipple and had to suppress a grin at her sudden gasp as she jerked away.
Realizing she rather liked what he had been doing, Victoria took his hand in hers and brought it back to her breast. Recognizing the invitation, Stephen leaned over and kissed the nipple, hearing and feeling her inhalation of breath.
Her fingers were suddenly in his hair, her fingernails scraping his scalp as his tongue and teeth replaced his lips. She continued to hold his head as he moved his lips to her other breast, forcing her to straighten her other leg. Before he was finished with that nipple, he had managed to push her down into the pillows so she was lying nearly flat.
The Caress of a Commander Page 32