He could only hope, at least.
Tom Cavenaugh gave the earl a look of surprise. “Buy one?” he repeated, a look of wonder on his face. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but you can have your pick. Maggie is done feeding ‘em, and I certainly can’t afford to keep ‘em all,” he countered, his expression suddenly very serious. “Could you give Lady Gisborn my sympathies? If she had him ten years, he was probably like a child to her. My wife, may she rest in peace, probably would have allowed Maggie to sleep in our bed – under the bed linens no less,” he added, his expression suddenly dour.
Henry wondered if perhaps Maggie was already sleeping in Cavenaugh’s bed, if for no other reason than to get some peace and quiet from her noisy pups. He tossed Tom a coin. “I want that one,” he said as he pointed at the small version of Harold MacDuff. “And if Miss Inglenook wants one as she claims she does, I’ll have her come down and pick another.”
Tom caught the coin, a look of surprise crossing his face when he took in the denomination. A sovereign! For a dog? He followed the direction of Henry’s finger. “Good choice. Wasn’t the first out, but he’s not the runt, either.” The farmer stepped into the pen and scooped up the fur ball. When Tom came to where Henry stood at the pen wall, he held the squirming mass out to the earl.
Henry froze.
He’d never held a dog before.
He owned dogs. Two of them. Spaniels for hunting. But he’d never held them in his arms nor treated them as pets. Suddenly, he was holding a rather heavy, wiggling, warm bundle of brown and white fluff. Huge brown eyes stared at him before a yawn revealed a rather large mouth, a very long tongue, and rows of sharp, white teeth. Floppy ears, huge paws and a tail that swished from side to side ... despite knowing what it would look like when full grown, Henry couldn’t help but find the little bugger cute. And before Henry had a chance to readjust how he held the pup, it fell asleep.
“They do that,” Tom commented as he watched the earl try to position the dog for easy travel. “They’re busy as can be, and then they just ... flop down and sleep for a few minutes.”
Placing the sleeping beast so its head rested on his shoulder, Henry held one hand under the dog’s bottom. He hoped he didn’t look too ridiculous. It was a long walk back to Gisborn Hall. “Thank you, Cavenaugh,” he said as he waved at the farmer.
“I’ll save a good one for Miss Inglenook,” the farmer promised as he waved.
The little dog didn’t stay asleep long, and when sharp claws had done their worst on his top coat, either in an attempt to climb onto his shoulder or get down from it, Henry finally let the dog down. The pup stared up at him and looked back from whence they came. “Come, Harold,” Henry commanded as he continued on his way to Gisborn Hall. Although the pup seemed unsure at first, he was soon running and walking along side Henry, occasionally giving his new master a questioning look as they made their way down the dirt lane. Just before they reached the front doors to Gisborn Hall, Henry turned to regard the pup.
He was pissing on one of Mrs. Batey’s rosebushes.
Well, the bush was a long way from blooming, and if Aldenwood’s prediction about this year’s growing season turned out to be true, then there probably wouldn’t be any roses. Henry reached down and scooped up the pup from his perusal of a boxwood. “Come, Harold,” he stated, placing the dog back onto his shoulder. Harold squirmed a bit but seemed to realize the only way down was a long way down. Apparently deciding he liked being on the earl’s shoulder, Harold licked Henry’s ear.
Stunned and not too pleased to have the pup licking him, Henry was about to put him back down. But he caught the look the little beast was giving him. A damned familiar look. It was as if they had already made each other’s acquaintance, and Harold was reminding him he had better not make a cake of what he was about to do.
“I am making it right with my wife,” Henry said quite firmly, almost chastising himself when he realized he’d spoken out loud to the dog. “You just better do your part. And no piddling on her.”
Harold behaved as if he was listening to Henry, his eyes quite wide and attentive, so the earl continued. “You have to be a foot warmer, and a bed warmer, and a mouser, and you must guard Hannah and keep her safe when I cannot be there.”
A pink tongue suddenly intersected his cheek, the abrasiveness against his afternoon beard a surprise. Closing his eyes, Henry couldn’t help but grin at the pup’s antics. Still, he looked about to be sure no one had seen his reaction.
Henry rather hoped the front hall would be empty. He wanted to get Harold up and into Hannah’s room before any servants saw him carrying the little beastie in such a manner. He couldn’t begin to imagine the talk below stairs should that happen.
Thank goodness Parkerhouse was not at his post. Henry took the stairs as quickly as possible and hurried to his wife’s door. He knocked once. When he didn’t hear a response, he peeked in. The bed was empty. Scanning the room, he saw Hannah where he’d found her that morning, her arms resting on the window sill as she looked out over his lands. At least she has a blanket around her shoulders, Henry thought sadly. And the fireplace was lit and warming that part of the room.
Harold squirmed to the point that Henry lowered him to the floor. Even before the pup could get his traction on the wooden planks where there wasn’t Aubusson carpet, he was off and running awkwardly toward Hannah, his tail wagging so hard Henry thought he might knock over a piece of furniture. He hurried in the puppy’s wake, wanting to see Hannah’s reaction when she noticed him.
He wasn’t disappointed. He was suddenly ... in love.
“Oh!” Hannah cried out, a sound so joyful he wanted to hear it again and again. Her face had changed instantly from one of infinite sadness to pure joy. The puppy had its front paws on Hannah’s knees, its tongue reaching out to lick whatever of Hannah he could reach. Hannah turned to find Henry gazing down at her, a hesitant smile on his face. “Where ... how?” she wondered as she reached down to capture the puppy and bring it onto her lap. Now that he had full access to his mistress, Harold was licking her neck and chin as Hannah giggled in delight. Her hands were smoothing the fur on the sides of the dog as he continued to show his excitement and affection.
“He piddles,” Henry warned her.
“Oh, they do that,” Hannah replied with a shrug, apparently unconcerned that Harold might soil her beautiful night gown.
“His mother lives about a mile from here. She has at least three others and appeared quite happy to give him up,” he said in answer to her earlier question. Although he really couldn’t be sure the expression on the dog’s face was that of happiness. Relief, perhaps. It was really hard to tell with dogs.
“What is his name?” she wondered, cradling him so his tummy was turned up. She was rubbing it with a couple of fingers while the pup’s tail swished over her night gown.
Surprised by the question, Henry bit his lower lip. “I called him Harold on the way home. He ... followed me when I wasn’t carrying him,” he said with a shrug.
“Harold,” she repeated, her face turning up to give her husband a brilliant smile. “He does look an awfully lot like him,” she murmured, scooping the puppy into her arms and placing it against her shoulder. “He’s perfect, Henry.’
She stood up from the chair, the blanket falling from her shoulders. A pensive smile on her face, she reached up and kissed his cheek. Henry was briefly reminded of Sarah’s earlier kiss, but found he valued this one just a bit more. “Thank you, Henry,” she whispered. And then her free arm wrapped around his neck while she reached up to kiss him on the lips.
Henry wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her up and against the hard planes of his body. Despite the pup preventing him from hugging as hard as he wanted to hold his wife at that moment, the puppy’s squirming ceased when he returned the kiss. His tongue gently parted her lips until he was tasting her teeth and tongue. Her soft moan spurred him on so that he deepened the kiss. Through the thin fabric of her nightgown, he could
feel the curves of her soft body as his hands pressed into the small of her back before moving down to cup her bottom and up to grasp one shoulder. The heat of his hands seared her back as he did so. Another soft moan escaped her when Henry tried to pull away. She had slipped her free hand between their bodies to press her palm against the growing bulge in his breeches. A growl emanated from Henry, but he recaptured her lips and kissed her hard before pulling away with a gasp. Hannah was already undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, her deft fingers working their way down the garment before moving to the fastening of his breeches.
“Hannah.” He barely got the word out as he noticed Harold sleeping soundly on her shoulder. The sight seemed somehow ... right, as if the pup was supposed to be sleeping on his wife’s shoulder at three o’clock in the afternoon. But not right given what she was doing to him at the moment.
Hannah had slipped her hand down the loosened fall of his breeches and through his drawers. His engorged cock was suddenly in her hand, her thumb caressing the top of the wet bulb while her fingers gripped him. Cursing softly, he struggled to maintain his balance. Whatever was she doing? It was daylight, for God’s sake. Had he locked the door? She was lowering herself before him, and her hand left his cock for a moment only to return to grip and stroke it harder than before. Her other hand had slipped behind his buttocks to pull down his breeches and drawers.
When he glanced down, he saw Harold sleeping on the carpet below, well away from where he stood. A shiver of pleasure shot up his body, forcing his attention back to what Hannah was doing. Her tongue was sliding along the length of his manhood! How did she know to even try such a thing? A mix of horror and admiration clouded his thoughts as he realized what was about to happen. “Hannah.” He spoke her name again in the hope she would pause or stop. When she did not, Henry stepped back suddenly. Her grip on him gone, he struggled to regain his breath as he watched Hannah struggle to regain her balance.
Her face turned up to him, her body perched on her haunches, bare feet peeking out behind her night gown. “Did I ... did I do it ... wrong?” she whispered. She looked as if she might cry.
“No,” Henry breathed, reaching down to hook his hands beneath her arms and pull her up. “Quite the contrary, actually,” he managed to get out before stripping his waistcoat from his body. His shirt quickly followed, making him wonder when she’d had time to undo his cravat. Or had he even been wearing one? His boots made a thunking sound on the carpet before his arms wrapped around Hannah and moved her to the bed. She was pulling up on the fine lawn of the nightgown when he simply stripped it from her body. Her nipples were already hard pebbles, her skin flushed with desire, the pupils of her eyes so dilated her blue eyes were nearly black. Kissing one nipple, he kneaded the other with an impatient thumb until he felt her body trembling. God, she is beautiful in daylight, he thought as his gaze swept over her slender frame.
He lifted her onto the bed and followed to hover over her as she moved to the middle and left one leg bent. With her hair spread out over the pillows and her body beneath him like a banquet, Henry slowly trailed his tongue down the front of her, caressing her nipples, her belly, her hips and finally the insides of her creamy white thighs before cupping her bottom in his hands and tilting her hips up so that his tongue could lick and tease her engorged womanhood. Her quiet mewling increased as her chest arced up. One of her hands clutched the bed linens, as if to anchor her body. One of his hands moved to cup her breast, her nipple firmly planted in the palm of his hand as he started the slow rotations that matched those he was doing with his tongue. Her ecstasy came hard and quick, her cry of his name muted by her other hand covering her mouth.
Could anything else ever feel this pleasurable? she wondered as she reached down to hook her hands beneath his arms and pull him up and over her body. Henry didn’t need the invitation; he plunged his hardened cock into her wet sheath in one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt. His growl filled the room before he stilled himself. And then he began moving, pulling himself out and pushing back into her in a slow, methodical rhythm. But Hannah would have none of it. She clenched down hard on him when he was buried in her. When he pulled out, she clenched again. His next thrust proved his undoing, as she closed herself onto him with such force that he climaxed. Even while his seed spilt into her, he rocked his body one more time before settling his head next to hers on the pillow. His body collapsed onto hers, and he let out a very loud sigh. “You minx,” he whispered in her ear. He kissed the earlobe as he listened to her giggle of delight.
“I could not wait,” she whispered back, her voice sounding seductive against his ear.
“For what?” The words were filled with surprise.
“To hold you like this.” Her arms had wrapped around his lower back, one hand resting on his bottom while another took purchase on his lower ribs. “Thank you, Henry,” she whispered, kissing his ear and the space below it.
Thank you? She was thanking him for ... his bedding her? He allowed a chuckle to burble up. “You’re welcome, my lady. Anytime, actually. I have to admit I have never been seduced in the middle of the day. You took me quite by surprise.” He lifted his head, which suddenly seemed to weigh a hundred stone. “Whatever possessed you to ... do that?” he wondered, his gaze traveling over her naked body. And who told her how to do it? Had she held a man’s organ before? Or had she seen illustrations? Or lithographs of sexual activities? His mind was suddenly imagining Hannah in a large bed with her tongue lathing across some overweight duke’s ... He shook his head to clear it of the offending image. Until he had taken her virtue two weeks before, she was a virgin. Her reaction to his nakedness, to the way he held and stroked her ... just the blood of her broken maidenhead on the bath linens had been a testament to that.
The sun dipped low behind clouds made red and angry from the dust in the air; the late afternoon light left Hannah looking golden. Her firm breasts were still topped with engorged nipples. He reached over with his tongue and teeth and nipped at one. “However did you know to do that to me?” he asked in as neutral voice as he could manage. Although his cock was still firmly inside her, he could feel himself slipping out little by little.
Catching her lower lip with a tooth, she turned to gaze at him. Her face had begun to flush with the question. “Lady Bostwick. She ... recommended I try it with whomever I married.”
One eyebrow cocking into a sharp arch, Henry stared down at her. Lady Bostwick? He was suddenly remembering Lord Bostwick at the Attenborough’s ball. No wonder the man had seemed so ... happy. He was married to a wanton woman! “And what else has Lady Bostwick recommended you do to me?” he wondered. His voice took on a teasing tone now that his fears of her having spent time in bed with some other man were clearly unfounded.
Hannah’s face turned that bright pink he found so fetching. “She ... says I should use my imagination,” she hedged, not wanting to get too specific. “And she says I should demand my husband bed me every day, even when I am with child.”
Henry considered her words. “Does she now? I suppose George must be a very exhausted man,” he said, not exactly teasing. And very happy. “Does he really accommodate his wife’s demands?”
She nodded, her head still on the pillow. “George Bennett-Jones dotes on Elizabeth,” Hannah answered with a hint of mischief. “He will do anything for her. He loved her from the moment he saw her,” she said in a voice that had quieted to a whisper.
Henry stared at Hannah for a very long time. “That dog!” he finally said, a grin belying his comment. “How did a man with such an ugly puss manage to land a beauty like Lady Elizabeth?” he asked under his breath. He slipped completely out of Hannah. He couldn’t help but grin at her moan of disappointment. “You are more beautiful than she is, by the way,” he added, hoping Hannah wouldn’t take umbrage at his comment about Lady Elizabeth.
Moving her arms over her head and stretching her body in what looked like a writhing wanton to Henry, Hannah suppressed a grin. “Georg
e is rather handsome when he smiles. Or so Elizabeth says, at least. When they returned to town for the Season, Elizabeth and I called on one another every day, and she told me all about her life with him.”
An eyebrow arched up on Henry’s forehead. “It sounds as if she told you far too much if she was describing how she pleasured her husband,” he countered with a snort. “I do hope she didn’t go into too much detail.” When he glanced back at Hannah’s guilt-ridden face, he noted the pink blush was back. It seemed to cover her entire body. “I see.”
Any hint of humor in Hannah’s face was gone, replaced by an expression that suggested she might cry at any moment. “If she hadn’t told me, I would not know what ... what to do, my lord,” she reasoned, “Would you have told me?”
Henry stared at her in surprise. “Henry,” he corrected her, as he tried to decide how best to answer her question. “I do not know that it is ... appropriate for a wife to do something like ... that,” he finally got out. He remembered that Sarah had tried once, a long time ago, but he’d pulled himself away, thinking that only lightskirts and courtesans would engage in such practices. But how did he know? He had never employed any ladies of the night. He hadn’t wanted to since the time he and Sarah had experienced their first coupling.
Thinking of Hannah using her tongue on him was so out of context from what he expected of a virginal fairy princess – even her just sharing a bed with him seemed odd, as if the woman he married was suitable only for display in the pages of a fairy tale. And yet, he did feel ... lust for her. Every day since that first time he’d seen her playing with Harold, in fact. He’d wanted to bed her even then.
The Seduction of an Earl Page 28