The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1)

by Linda Rae Sande

  “Are you implying Simpkins merely needs a... a good tumble?” Adele whispered hoarsely, suddenly finding it hard to concentrate on the matter at hand when her husband was doing everything in his power to see to it that she couldn’t.

  He reappeared from beneath the covers and gave a nod. “I am. Simpkins is sure to have a happy Christmas.” He disappeared again, and Adele gave a cry of surprise when his hands slid beneath the globes of her bottom. Her knees suddenly lifted and fell apart as his questing tongue saw to flicking her suddenly engorged womanhood.

  “As will I,” Adele replied, her breaths becoming labored as his tongue and lips did their worst.

  Or best.

  Could anything be more pleasurable? More intense? More... more?

  When she finally begged for him to stop, Milton re-emerged from under the covers, hurriedly crawling back up her body. His mouth settled onto one of her breasts as he buried his rock-hard cock into her wet and welcoming haven. Her hips immediately lifted, her knees gripping the sides of his body.

  His movements, controlled and slow at first, soon turned more frantic, his thrusts faster and deeper, his hunger for her breasts and nipples leaving tiny marks in the tender skin. Spurred on by her soft mewling, he lifted his torso higher and watched in wonder at how her breasts bobbed in time with his trusts. When he lowered his mouth to hers, he reveled in how her nipples grazed his chest, parting the crisp, gray curls and eliciting gasps of delight and quiet mewling from Adele.

  At one time, he thought this kind of intercourse far too coarse to employ on an English miss—that it might only be appropriate with a paid mistress—and partly because he preferred it this way, he hadn’t pursued a wife. The series of widows he had squired about during the past ten Seasons had changed his mind on the matter, though, a few assuring him his spirited lovemaking was just as welcome as the more reserved efforts he saved for mornings.

  Discovering Adele was amenable no matter the mode of intercourse merely confirmed that he should marry her—few aristocrats could claim willing wives when it came to the bedchamber. The two suited one another no matter the topic of conversation, and he rather enjoyed ribbing her on occasion. She rarely took his teasing seriously. That she was so pleasant to be with outside of a bed only reinforced his decision to ask for her hand. And the fact that she already owned her own palatial townhouse in Mayfair meant there was no need for him to arrange a larger London residence.

  What more inducement did he need?

  Nearly ready to allow his release, he completed the kiss and dared a gaze into Adele’s eyes. He found her watching him with heavy-lidded eyes and a half-smile. He was vaguely aware of how her hands gripped his hips, of how her long fingers slid over his buttocks. He would not last long if she moved just one of those fingers to the back of his manhood, or if she reached a bit further and touched his sac.

  As if she could read his mind, he was suddenly aware of her reaching to stroke him, to hold his sac and press it against her quim at the very moment he thrust into her one last time.

  Her chest lifted from the bed at that moment, her mewling turning to a cry. His own growl filled the cold quiet of the bedchamber as his body stiffened, and he finally collapsed atop Adele. “You minx,” he murmured before falling into a light sleep.

  Several minutes later, when Adele’s breathing had returned to normal and she had the covers up and over both of their intertwined bodies, she allowed a long sigh. Moments like this allowed her to review the day, repeat phrases she had heard in her head to analyze them, relive the highlights, and wince at the disappointments.

  Other than her earlier despair over the possibility he might have had feelings for Edith, Adele could think of nothing else that had happened on this trip to disappoint her. Nothing particularly annoying. Scary, perhaps, when she recalled the night they had spent at the Angel Inn—she was quite sure they shared their room with a ghost—but she wasn’t about to mention the incident to Milton.

  Despite the weather and the inconvenience of not having a maid or a valet, the two of them had enjoyed the day prior. Sleeping in later than usual, having breakfast in bed, and finally venturing out to the stables were merely preludes to what she hoped would be perfect days for the remainder of their stay.

  If we made Torrington Park our regular home, would it always be like this? she wondered.

  Well, life up here in Northumberland would become rather lonely, she decided. There wouldn’t be ladies calling on her the days of the week when she wasn’t calling on them. No balls or soirées to attend. No theatre or other evening entertainments to mark the time.

  She sighed. Had her life really become just a series of ton events? A series of visits to Mayfair parlors and Hyde Park? A series of dinner parties and musicales and...

  There had to be something more to life, she reasoned. Not that she didn’t enjoy the life she had been born into, of course. But...

  Adele sighed again, the movement of her chest bringing Milton out of his stupor to lift his head to regard her for a moment by the light of the dying fire. “Dammit, my love, but you are an excellent lay,” he whispered before settling down so his head rested on the pillow next to hers.

  Adele couldn’t help the giggle that escaped just then, causing the bed to vibrate and her one uncovered breast—the other was buried beneath her husband’s chest—to jiggle.

  “I’ll be sure to inform my brother,” she teased in a whisper.

  “Minx,” he accused as one of his hands moved to cover her breast. “I’m crushing you, aren’t I?”

  “Not at all,” she whispered, her hands moving to his back so that she could trail her fingers over the bumps in his spine. These days, they weren’t so evident beneath his flesh, but she always delighted in how he reacted as her fingers barely skimmed them.

  “I could spend the entire night just like this,” he warned.

  Adele thrilled at the comment. How many wives of aristocrats could claim their husbands spent the entire night in their beds? “Then please do.”

  Milton suddenly lifted his head, one of his bent arms supporting his head as he did so. He glanced about, rather surprised to discover she already had them covered by the bed linens and the counterpane. He returned his attention to her, just then realizing they were still joined together. Although it was entirely too soon to consider making love to her again, he thrilled at the thought that he could by merely remaining tucked inside her. “Your legs must be—”

  “Already comfortably settled,” she whispered with an arched eyebrow. Indeed, she would provide a rather loud complaint should he decide to remove his body from where it currently rested.

  “Minx,” he accused again.

  “And don’t you forget it,” she replied as she used a hand to pull his head back down to her shoulder.

  Milton whispered, “I love you,” and drifted off to sleep, his only thoughts on heirs and spares and the earldom.

  He needed an heir, and he rather hoped he had fathered one on this night.

  Chapter 26

  A Final Morning in Darlington

  Just before dawn on Monday, December 23, 1816

  Alonyius was aware of a slight movement just before soft lips kissed his cheek. For a moment, he thought perhaps his mother had come into his bedchamber and was trying to wake him.

  She’ll find my bed empty, he thought with a bit of amusement. Of course, she would find the situation just as amusing, the wicked woman. He was sure his mother knew exactly what she was doing when she had him bring Alice to this bedchamber.

  Since his mother wasn’t the one kissing him on the cheek, there was only one other who would dare do such a thing.

  Alice.

  He grinned and turned his head in her direction. “I rather like waking up like this,” he murmured, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

  “I almost didn’t wake up. The bed is so comfortable.” You are so comfortable. “But it’s just after four o’clock. We really must be getting back
to the coaching inn,” she whispered. “Haversham told me we’ll be leaving at dawn.”

  The reminder had Alonyius opening his eyes and glancing down the front of his body. Even covered with bed linens and quilts, his cockstand was quite evident as it tented the counterpane.

  Alice followed his line of sight and giggled. “At least part of you is awake.” She suddenly sobered and then crawled atop him, spreading her legs so her knees were on either side of his hips. With the nightrail bunched up around her hips and the covers still over most of her body, she created a rather warm tent of her own.

  Well aware of what she intended to do, especially when her quim suddenly pressed against the hardened length of his manhood, Alonyius lifted himself onto his elbows. “You cannot make a sound,” his whispered in warning.

  He could only imagine his mother walking in on them.

  Pausing in her slight movements, she nodded her understanding. Then she arched her back and lifted her torso until his manhood impaled her. The hitch in her breath—and in his—was barely audible as he filled her to near bursting. Before she moved again, she crossed her arms over her head and jerked the nightrail from her body.

  Alonyius watched from below, his eyes widening in the dim light. Her lithe body was suddenly on display. Her mass of long hair swayed as she shook it out when the night rail cleared her head. After she tossed the garment behind her, Alonyius pushed himself up on his elbows again, his tongue flicking out to touch her breasts and nipples.

  Gasping at the unexpected assault, Alice realized his move had left her almost unable to lift and lower herself. But then his hands moved to cup the globes of her bottom. Forced to grasp him about the shoulders, she allowed him to take over the movements. His mouth was suddenly open on one of her breasts, his tongue doing wicked things to her nipple as he lifted her so his manhood nearly escaped her body. The pressure from his hands suddenly slackened, and she dropped back down, his manhood filling her once again. He repeated the movements all the while feasting on each of her breasts and nipples, silencing whatever sounds he might have allowed as he moved closer to his release.

  Alice bit the inside of her mouth in an attempt to keep silent as his rhythmical movements increased in speed and intensity. The tension that he built within her crested when his thumbs suddenly moved to where their bodies were joined, pressing and rubbing against her swollen womanhood until she shattered. The cry she might have emitted was swallowed when she dropped her head and his mouth suddenly covered hers. Not a second later, his entire body stiffened, spasmed, and seized, his hands once again moving to her bottom to hold her tight against him. When he finally took a breath, inhaling as if he’d been under water for too long, he allowed his head to fall against her chest.

  Alice moved one of her hands to the back of his head and held him there for several minutes. If only we could stay like this. Just like this. Never move. Never leave this bed.

  If only.

  But they did have to move. Alonyius suddenly dropped back onto his pillow, his breathing labored as one of his hands covered a breast and the other pulled her down.

  “I find myself hoping that whatever possessed you to do that will do so again,” he whispered, giving her a kiss on her shoulder.

  Alice grinned and settled her head next to his on the pillow. She kissed his cheek again. “I’m quite sure it can be arranged.” She allowed a deep sigh and then slowly lifted her body from his, wincing when his manhood finally sprang free. At his moan of disappointment, she almost returned to the bed. But she knew if she did, she might never leave it.

  She had half a mind to ask Mrs. Banks if there might be a maid’s position available at the house, just so she could enjoy the comforts found in the Blue Room.

  Alonyius wouldn’t be there, though, she remembered. At least, not if he continued his employment under Lord Torrington.

  Pulling on her corset, she was about to attempt to do the ties by herself when Alonyius was suddenly behind her. “Allow me,” he whispered. When he was finished, he turned her around in his arms and kissed her on the lips one last time. “We’ll have several hours in the coach today,” he hinted in a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  She wasn’t, really, for riding in the coach meant cold feet. But if they rode on the same side, in the direction of travel, she knew she would feel warm just from his presence.

  Thelonius Banks’ coach was already parked in front of Mill House when Alonyius and Alice finished dressing. Alice had made up the bed in an effort to hide their carnal activity while Alonyius made a mess of his in an effort to make it appear as if he had actually slept in it. Folding the borrowed nightrail—she had actually worn it the entire night—Alice left it on the end of the made up bed.

  With his shaving kit and valise back at the coaching inn, Alonyius could do nothing more than pull on his clothes. Not having more than the coins, a comb, and a small sewing kit in her small reticule, Alice could only pin up her hair into a simple bun.

  “I’m going to give my regards to my mother,” Alonyius whispered before he moved down the hallway in the opposite direction from the wing in which they had stayed. Alice waited for him at the top of the stairs, startled when the maid from yesterday—Regan, if she remembered correctly—appeared at the base of the stairs.

  “Good morning, ma’am. Breakfast is served in the parlor.”

  Breakfast? Alice dared a glance down the hall, stunned to find Alonyius already on his way back in her direction.

  “She’s not in her bedchamber,” he said in a worried voice.

  Alice sighed, a grin forming. “Because she’s in the breakfast parlor, it seems.”

  The two descended the stairs and found the matriarch of Mill House drinking a cup of tea.

  “There you are!” Mrs. Banks said brightly. “You cannot go without first having something to eat.”

  Although Alice was sure she couldn’t eat this early—she never did at Worthington House—the coddled eggs and rasher of bacon placed in front of her by a footman, followed by a plate of toast and a cup of tea, soon had her changing her mind.

  “You’ve probably already worked up an appetite by now,” Mrs. Banks said, directing her comment to her son.

  Alonyius felt the blush of embarrassment color his throat and silently thanked the gods his cravat was covering it. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” he responded lightly. “I slept rather soundly last night.”

  The older woman merely grinned and turned to Alice to give her a wink.

  Alice blinked. “As did I. The bed was ever so comfortable. I must thank you again for your hospitality.” She quickly sipped her tea. Was their carnal act of earlier that morning so obvious? Or was Mrs. Banks merely hoping her son had found a lover?

  “Well, my dear, you are always welcome here. You’ll be even more welcome if you bring my son along, of course,” the old woman replied with a titter.

  “I shall do my best,” Alice responded, not sure what else to say.

  A few minutes later, they climbed into the Banks coach. Alice had barely gotten settled into the squabs when it came to a halt and Alonyius reached over to open the door. “We’re here,” he said as he stepped out and turned to help her down.

  “Already?” Alice couldn’t believe how quick the ride was compared to how long it had taken her to walk from the coaching inn to Mill House the day before. But she couldn’t give it another thought when she spotted the Torrington coach. The horses were nearly hitched up.

  “Come. We still have to pack,” he reminded her. They hurried into The Black Swan and nearly walked into Higgins.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” the groom said in surprise, his gaze darting between the two.

  “I left something behind,” Alice said in the hopes he wouldn’t guess they hadn’t stayed there the night before. “I have to go back to the room.”

  “Och, damn women,” Higgins said sotto voce as Alonyius passed him.

  The valet m
erely nodded and made his way through the public room and up the stairs. Although he had hoped to shave, he realized he didn’t have the time. Perhaps he could do so at another stage stop along the way. They had at least one, probably two before they arrived at Torrington Park.

  Alice gathered the few things in the room that weren’t already in her valise and waited while Alonyius did the same. A quick glance at the fireplace showed the tub had been removed, although her ball of soap was still on the hearth. She stuffed it into her valise, the scent of citrus reminding her all over again what it had been like to have her hair washed by a man’s hands. She was still ruminating on the thought when she realized Alonyius was next to her.

  “A pleasant thought?” he queried.

  Grinning, Alice nodded and pulled out the ball of soap. “Very,” she replied.

  Giving her a quick kiss, Alonyius straightened and led them out of the room and out of the coaching inn. A few minutes later, they were seated in the traveling coach, facing the direction of travel with a foot warmer already in place on the floor.

  Alice was quite sure she never felt so warm in all her life.

  Chapter 27

  The Servants Arrive

  Five hours later

  Ensconced in the library and enjoying a rather titillating tale of a knight and his maiden, Adele didn’t hear the ruckus created by the arrival of a coach at Torrington Park. Even if she had, she would have done her best to ignore it in favor of learning exactly how a knight in battle armor was capable of engaging in sexual intercourse with so much metal covering his body. Certainly his manhood would have been as protected as his chest, she thought before remembering there was a suit of armor in the hallway of the first floor. She made a mental note to study it the moment before her husband appeared in the doorway.