Her breaths became shorter as Stephen moved his lips down to her belly, his hands to her thighs to gently spread them apart.
“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, lifting her head so she could better see what he was doing.
“Lie back and allow me to pleasure you. I want you in ecstasy when I enter you,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to feel any pain.”
Victoria did as she was told, her gaze suddenly on the canopy above the bed. She had to close her eyes, though, when she felt Stephen’s body move between her legs. They were open in an instant when his hands slid beneath her bottom and lifted a bit, forcing her thighs apart. She let out a yelp of surprise when she realized it was his tongue and not his manhood that had suddenly invaded her most private place. She was about to put voice to a protest when his tongue flicked something that sent a jolt of pure pleasure shooting through her belly. He did it again, and before the sharp darts of pleasure had passed, he did it again and again.
Jerking reflexively, Victoria cried out with each wave of pleasure, her chest rising from the bed as her hands struggled to take purchase on anything to keep her anchored.
Just when she thought he was done, she felt his lips take purchase on her swollen womanhood and suckle until the pleasure was so profound, she thought she might faint. She barely noticed as Stephen rose up from between her legs and moved his manhood to where his lips had just been.
Although he could have impaled her with just one thrust, Stephen prolonged his own agony another moment, entering her slowly, groaning as her wet haven barely opened for him. He thought to ask if she had changed her mind, but he knew it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to stop, not now that he was half-buried within her.
He used first one hand and then the other to guide her thighs up to his hips. “Are you all right?”
A bit lightheaded—she had been practically panting when his tongue and lips were seeing to her pleasure—Victoria allowed a wan smile and nodded. “Tell me what to do.”
Stephen lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. “You’ll just know,” he murmured. “Jesus, you feel so good.” He pushed into her farther, his groan of satisfaction audible.
Victoria suddenly felt the fullness of his manhood inside her. Although her body still vibrated beneath his, her uncertainty and nervousness dissipated with his words. When she felt him pull out of her, she relaxed, and when he thrust into her, she pushed against him, thrilling at his sighs of “yes”. Her hands let go of the bedding and moved to his sides, her palms sliding down to feel his ribs, his hips, his muscular thighs and back up to hold onto his solid buttocks. When he moved to pull out too far, she panicked a bit and pulled hard just as he began another thrust into her. The move had her chest lifting from the mattress, her head angled back as another flutter of pleasure filled her lower body.
She knew immediately something had happened, for Stephen suddenly stilled his movements, a groan emanating from deep within his throat, his upturned face contorting into an expression of what looked like pain, the cords of his throat showing in stark relief. He held the pose for several seconds before he suddenly drew breath and slowly lowered his body down onto hers.
Victoria felt a wash of warmth fill her lower body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and helped to guide him down. His head ended up in the pillow next to her face, his arms on either side of her body.
“Are you all right?” she whispered in alarm, barely able to catch her own breath even as another flutter passed through her body.
Stephen murmured something unintelligible followed by words that suggested he was not. Then he sighed. “I do believe I am in love, my beautiful Victoria,” he whispered before kissing her earlobe.
Victoria turned her head to find his eyes closed and felt his body suddenly relax atop hers.
She couldn’t help but smile when she heard his snores only moments later.
Chapter 49
A Heart to Heart to Mend a Broken Heart
Later that evening in Oxfordshire
“How can you want to marry me?” Barbara wondered, her head shaking with her query. “You must think the worst of me.”
Will shook his head, his hair still a bit damp from his bath. He found he was stunned by her statement. “No, of course not. If anything, I’m rather... humbled by you,” he replied, continuing to hold her hand. He was sure if he let go, she would run away from him. Run away and never let him get this close again. Here in the gardens behind Gisborn Hall, he could at least keep her close.
“Humbled?” she repeated in surprise. “Don’t you mean ‘disappointed’ or ‘embarrassed’ or... I will not have you thinking you must marry me because I bore your child,” she managed to get out.
Will pulled on her hand, hard, so she was suddenly falling against the front of his body. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her there. “No, I don’t think any of those things,” he answered, his head still shaking. “How can you even think that?”
Barbara held her body ramrod straight, afraid if she allowed herself to rest against Will, she would lose all her resolve. Allow the scents of amber and sandalwood to scramble her senses. Give in to his soft words and promises of a better life and end up back where it all started. Back where she was considered a wanton woman. Bad ton. A whore. Daughter of an earl who was headed for debtor’s prison if he wasn’t there already. To suffer the cut direct whenever she walked down Bond Street or was forced to attend a ton event because Will was obligated by rank to do so.
Shame was all she could feel. All she would feel if she should go back to London.
But she couldn’t allow Will to ruin his life—to give up his life in London—because of something she had done all those years ago. Behaved like a wanton. Shown up at his apartment and offered herself to him, afraid if she didn’t, he would leave and forget her. Leave her to the life she would have had to endure with a father who gambled too much. Perhaps end up married to a man she did not love and simply endure her lot in life while her father ended up in prison for his gambling debts.
But she had given herself to Will. And Will still left London, just as he warned her he would, although he had made her a promise.
I will return. I will make you my wife. I promise.
The few letters from him had reinforced his promise, each one claiming that he loved her, that he would return to her when his duty to King and Country was complete.
Once she found herself pregnant, with no one to turn to and the gossips of the ton about to sink their teeth into her, she had done the only thing she could do. She had left London. Escaped with only a trunk filled with some clothes, a gold ring, and enough money to last at least a year in a forgotten cottage. Pretended to be a war widow, for how else could she explain her condition? Her situation?
At least she’d had the help and sympathy of her father’s solicitor, but even Mr. Barton couldn’t perform a miracle once her father’s funds had dried up, especially after he had been fired from his position. He couldn’t see to forwarding her correspondence since her father was probably burning it out of spite or rage. And not having received word from Will for several years, she had simply accepted that he no longer cared for her. That he had met someone else on his travels overseas or transferred his affections to some other young chit in London.
Perhaps he, too, had heard the gossip and decided he couldn’t abide a woman who acted as she had done that last night. Couldn’t abide the gossip that would follow them everywhere they went in polite Society.
“I was... I behaved like a wanton—”
“You behaved like a woman who wanted her future husband to know she would be there for him when he returned,” he interrupted. “You gave me hope, Barbara. You gave me the gift of you. And then you gave me the greatest gift you could give me by having my child,” he continued, his other arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her hard against him so she was forced to allow her slight body to mold to the front of his. “I love you,” he whispered harshly. “I w
anted you then, and I want you now, only this time, I will have you as my wife.”
Barbara stared up at him, stunned by the ferocity of his words. “You won’t make me go back there?” she whispered, a spark of hope the only thing she could hang on to just then, although being held in Will’s arms was rather comforting as well.
“You never have to go back there again,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I think you should know that you are not a subject of gossip mongers. Whoever knew about your condition—”
“My maid,” Barbara whispered.
“She was dismissed from Pendleton House. She left London shortly after you did,” he remarked, remembering the butler’s comment.
Barbara frowned. “She didn’t say anything about me?”
Will shook his head, deciding he could provide a bit of a white lie just then. “The butler was quite clear—no one thought there was any scandal regarding you. Only surprise at your sudden departure, although I rather imagine some believed you needed to get away from your father. That you probably feared for your reputation because of his gambling. You simply left London to live in the country.”
“My aunt,” Barbara said suddenly. “She knew.”
“Then she took the secret with her to her grave,” Will countered, wincing when he realizing she probably hadn’t learned of her relative’s death.
“Oh,” Barbara breathed as she relaxed some more and gave in completely to Will’s hold on her. She could hear his heartbeats beneath her face, smell the scents of lemon soap and musk in his linen shirt, feel his warmth permeate her body as if he were a comforting blanket.
Remembering the letter he had received earlier that day from Stephen, just before he had gone fishing, Will swallowed. “You should know your father doesn’t always gamble with the earldom’s funds.”
Barbara stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Will led her to the stone bench she had shared with Hannah earlier that morning. “My brother wrote to say that he has taken a position with the Foreign Office. He’s helping with an investigation into missing currency, something that happens often. Apparently, English money is rather popular for use by those wishing to purchase weapons and pay their spies,” he explained. “Guineas are made of gold, and bank notes are honored. Anyway, when necessary, your father gambles with the Crown’s money so that the men he loses to can be tracked down and arrested if they turn out to be foreign operatives.”
Staring at Will for several moments, Barbara frowned. “How long...?”
“Since before you left London,” Will interrupted. “He does tend to gamble with his own funds as well, when he’s not working for the Crown, of course, but he’s not on the verge of debtor’s prison as so many are led to believe,” he continued quietly. “Looking back, it seems as though he made a deal with the devil.”
Barbara swallowed as she remembered asking her father about his gambling. I am not allowed to tell, he would say. But rest assured, all is well.
A deal with the devil, indeed.
“There’s something else,” Will added, sighing before he told her the rest. “Last year, he had to fire his solicitor because he was afraid the man was about to discover his arrangement with the Foreign Office. It was never his intention for your funds to be cut off. Apparently he knew Barton was sending you money and always made sure there was some in the account the man oversaw. I suppose he thought you would return to London when you ran out of money.”
Barbara shook her head. “I would have starved first,” she whispered.
Will resisted the urge to hiss, realizing she spoke the truth. It would be a few weeks of decent meals before her body was back to the one he remembered holding his last night in London all those years ago.
“Rather stubborn, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand lifting hers to his lips.
“I am,” she agreed as she considered his news about her father. “But... but he was the one who banished me,” she whispered. “I had to leave.”
“He’s quite sick about having lost you, but he knows it’s all his fault,” Will said quietly. “And mine, too, of course.” He wondered if her life would have been any better had he never met her. “Do you regret what happened between us? You must—”
“I don’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “I have my son because of you,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?” she whispered finally.
“Only because you loved me,” Will countered, his lip quirked a bit. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “You do still love me, don’t you?” he asked gently. “I wondered back then, you must know. You seemed rather indifferent with me at first, back when we were courting, and then, just before I left, I was sure you loved me.”
Barbara took a deep breath, not quite ready to admit her feelings for him just then. “How is it you knew how to give little Randolph a ride on your boot like you did?” she wondered.
Surprised at the sudden change in subject, Will lessened his hold on her and allowed a shrug. “My father used to do it with me when I was a toddler,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Hmm,” Barbara replied, a bit surprised by the comment. Of course, he would play with a child the same way he had played as a child. “While I watched you do it, I noticed our son seemed almost jealous of the babe. Like he realized he missed out on something.” A tear suddenly collected in the corner of her eye.
Our son.
Barbara had never said the words to Will, and hearing them now only gave him more hope. He shook his head and kissed her forehead. “He won’t ever feel like that again. I promise,” he vowed. At Barbara’s look of confusion, he added, “I’ll simply teach him how to ride a real horse.”
Barbara blinked a couple of times, as if she wasn’t quite sure that was the answer she wanted to hear. “Do you... do you think that’s wise?” she whispered.
“Well, I can’t exactly let him ride my boot,” Will countered with a grin. “He’s too tall. Although I suppose I could get down on all fours, and he could climb on my back...”
His words were interrupted by Barbara’s lips, their soft pillows touching his so that she could kiss him. She reached up to place one of her hands behind his neck, pulling his head down so that she could kiss him harder.
A bit stunned but ever so relieved by her simple gesture, Will kissed her back, his arms hugging her even harder to him, pulling her onto his lap. He reveled in the feel of her body pressed against his, thrilled at the sensation of her heartbeat through the fabric of her new gown and his shirt, delighted at the faint moan that came from her throat as he moved his lips over hers and then to her jawline and her neck.
By the time his tongue reached the hollow of her throat and he felt her body shiver at the light touch, he was delirious.
Despite the passing of eight years since they had engaged in such intimate contact, Will remembered their last night together as if it had been just the night before. He used what he had learned then to incite every bit of pleasure he could as he continued to kiss and nip at Barbara’s throat, as he moved his lips and tongue along her collarbones and then kissed the tops of her breasts.
When he stopped suddenly, his breaths coming in labored gasps, he moved his forehead up to press against hers. “What did you buy me?”
Barbara shook her head. “It’s nothing, really—”
“Tell me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’ll think me ridiculous—”
“Tell me.”
Angling her head to one side, she sighed. “A hammer and nails, a saw, a chisel, a plane—”
“Marry me, Barbara,” he whispered urgently. “Please be my wife.”
A slight grin appearing on her bee-stung lips, Barbara nodded against his forehead. “Of course. Yes,” she managed to get out before her lips once again took his.
Neither were aware of their son happily watching them from behind a cluster of daisies. That is, they weren’t until Harold came bounding through the
garden to chase Donald into their arms.
Chapter 50
An Earl and Countess Contemplate the Future
From the vantage of his bedchamber window, Randolph sound asleep on his bare shoulder, Henry Forster watched Will and Barbara as they kissed on the garden bench below. He chuckled when Harold appeared, and he smiled broadly when Donald was suddenly up and out of his hiding place and in their arms. He could practically hear their laughter from where he stood.
Hannah, a bed linen wrapped around her body, joined him at the window, her tousled hair and high color a testament to what they had been doing only moments ago. “What are you...?” She followed his line of sight and stared at the scene in the waning light below before breathing a long sigh. “Finally,” she whispered, one of her arms wrapping around her husband’s waist as she leaned against him.
“Indeed,” Henry murmured. “You do know what this means?” he whispered, not wanting to wake up his napping son just yet. He had every intention of giving him a horsey ride when he did, though. The sound of Randolph’s giggles had become the highlight of his day. Well, the other highlight, anyway. He rather looked forward to making love to his wife even more.
Hannah grinned. “You’re going to have a new foreman,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he agreed. “The cousins will grow up together.”
“We’re going to have neighbors,” Hannah said with a bit more excitement.
“You’ll be helping to arrange a wedding, I expect.”
Hannah’s excitement seemed to mount. “Aye.”
“And you’re going to have the sister you’ve always wanted.”
Hannah smiled. “As it turns out, I’ll have two! If all goes as planned, Stephen will get married tomorrow morning,” she said, rather glad her brother had shared the letter he had received earlier that day. “He would dearly love to bring his bride here for their wedding trip.”
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