“Did it ... please you?”
His head snapping up to regard Hannah, Henry furrowed his brows. “What?” he wondered, his mind still on his thoughts of her as a virginal princess. “Oh, um. Yes,” he admitted with a nod. “Very much, actually.” Damnation! Now that he knew what it was like, he’d likely beg her to do it the next time they were together.
Hannah sighed happily before allowing the smile to fade from her face. “I know you were not ... pleased with me. Were you ... angry, though?”
Henry lifted his head, wondering why she would ask such a thing.
“... Over what happened to Harold,” she added in a whisper. “My ... reaction, I mean.”
Furrowing his brows, Henry rolled off the top of her body and lifted himself on one elbow. “You were mourning,” he stated simply. “I could not find fault with that,” he reasoned, trying to keep his voice from betraying how he had felt earlier that day. But she was right in that her mourning had caused him a great deal of concern. He wondered if, when he died, would she mourn him like she had mourned Harold? She’d been sitting in a rather cold window for hours on end, weeping, putting her own life at risk. She could have caught a terrible cold. Or influenza. Or a fever. Perhaps she was already carrying his child, in which case she was endangering it ... “Are you with child?” he asked suddenly.
The question startled her. “I ... I do not know,” she replied with a shrug. She hadn’t felt any different during the two weeks she’d been at Gisborn Hall, but how did one know if you were pregnant when it wasn’t yet time for your monthly courses? Seeing his genuine concern, she lifted a hand to his face. “I’ll know soon, though.”
A thumping and mewling sounded from somewhere along the bottom of the bed. Peering over the side of the mattress, Henry found himself face to face with the puppy, who had stretched himself as tall as he could with his front paws at the top of the bedskirt. His hind legs tried to push his body up and onto the bed, but he was still far too small to make the leap. Chuckling, Henry reached over and captured the ball of fur, pulling it onto the bed. The excited puppy stepped onto and over Henry’s body, inciting a series of ‘oofs’ and ‘ows’ out of Henry as Harold made his way to Hannah, who giggled as the little beast snuggled into a space between her body and her arm, his tongue hanging out and his body panting with the exertion.
Henry sat up on the edge of the bed. “He’s probably thirsty ... and starving,” he said as he reached for his shirt. “And he needs a bath.”
The floor was littered with their hastily removed clothing. He was rather glad Murphy wouldn’t come into Hannah’s room. His valet would have a fit if he saw this. As Henry pulled on his shirt, he nearly chided himself for the missed time working on the estate. But the sight of his naked wife lying satiated and prone on her bed, her skin all golden in the late afternoon sunlight and the panting puppy against her body, quickly put that thought out of his head. “If you wish it, I will come to you later tonight,” he suggested, wondering if expecting to bed her twice in one day would seem selfish. Even now, his manhood was hardening at the thought. He pulled on his drawers and breeches as quickly as he could, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She noticed.
“I would like that,” she purred, a suggestive grin lighting her face. “And, if you are so inclined, you are welcome to stay with me when we are finished,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound as wanton as her words made her out to be.
What was happening to her? It was as if she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her husband and make love all the time! And if he was in her bed, it meant ...
It meant he wasn’t in Sarah’s bed.
She swallowed hard at that thought. Guard your heart, she warned herself. The last thing she could allow to happen was to fall in love with her husband. And yet, truth be told she was quite sure she already had.
“I am thinking I will be so inclined,” Henry responded with a wink. “I don’t suppose you know what’s for dinner?” he asked then, buttoning up his waistcoat.
Hannah’s eyes glazed over as if she was remembering something. “Onion soup, roast chicken, carrots, beans, rolls, lemon tarts,” she counted off, her voice trailing off. She glanced up at Henry, whose face was split by a huge grin. Leaning over her, he gave one nipple a quick kiss. “My favorite!” he claimed, and then he took his leave.
Chapter 20
Sarah Makes an Announcement
The hour was long past ten. Where could Henry be? He’d said he was going out after dinner for a quick visit with Nathan. But he did that nearly every night. And he always returned before nine. Sarah was quite insistent that her son be in bed by nine. So where could Henry be?
Two weeks, Hannah thought suddenly. A fortnight. He had promised her two weeks before he would return to Sarah’s bed. But then she had made him promise to bed her every night for another three weeks as punishment for his cursing Harold. Her stomach did a somersault, threatening to toss up the wonderful dinner they’d shared only a few hours ago. Why should she feel so bereft? He loved Sarah. He had for a very long time. So why did the thought of him sharing her bed bring such a feeling of ... emptiness?
Hannah’s hand went to her belly for at least the tenth time that night. Her courses were three days late. I must be with child! The thought warmed her, although there was still an ache in her heart. Perhaps she was merely late. Perhaps she would wake up in the morning to find ... No, she would not even think it. She couldn’t think anything but the best news right now. It was all that buoyed her as she listened for the front door.
Voices. She sat up straight in bed, startling Harold enough that the puppy lifted his head and regarded her in surprise. Had she fallen asleep? No, the mantle clock above the fireplace showed eleven. But familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs. She had never felt such relief. And, although they paused for only a second outside her door, they continued farther down the hall. Then she heard his door close, perhaps a bit too hard, and the latch clicked into place.
Holding her breath a moment, Hannah thought perhaps he only meant to undress and put on a dressing gown. Then he would come to her through the dressing room door. But after another ten minutes, when the house was still eerily quiet, she crept out of bed, pulling on her own dressing gown. He had locked his hall door, she was sure, but perhaps the connecting door through their dressing room would still be unlocked.
She motioned for Harold to stay on the bed and went into the dressing room. A sliver of light shown beneath his door, but there were no sounds of movement, nor were there changing shadows in the light. Placing her ear against the door, she listened for a moment. The sound of her own heartbeat nearly drowned out the odd sounds she heard from his room.
Sobbing? That couldn’t be right. Testing the door knob, she found it unlocked. When she peeked around the edge of the door, she was stunned to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, one hand covering his face as he wept. Wondering if she should let him know of her presence, she immediately chided herself for even pausing to consider what to do.
Something was wrong. Her husband was upset.
Even if there wasn’t anything she could do for him, she should at least show that she was concerned. Hurrying to his side, she placed a hand on one side of his face and kissed his temple. “Henry, what’s wrong?” She felt alarm when she realized his tears could be for his son. “Is Nathan alright?” Whatever could be so awful that Henry Forster would be reduced to tears?
Barely aware that Hannah was somehow next to him, her dressing gown unfastened and her nightgown undone at the top, Henry allowed his head to drop against her bosom. The scent of honeysuckle wafted from her body, enveloping him in familiar comfort as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Where had she come from? It was late. She should be asleep. He felt her kiss on the side of his face and turned his head in that direction. His lips found hers for a quick kiss, but a sob interrupted what needed to be a much more thorough kiss.
“Please,
tell me, Henry,” she whispered. She had undone the knot of his cravat and was working to loosen the linen before her fingers moved to his waistcoat. He had divested himself of his topcoat, but there was no sign of it in the room.
Henry allowed his head to roll back to her bosom. He could feel her heartbeat thundering under his ear, the pulse too fast. Hannah!
“What’s wrong, Henry?” she asked with a bit more urgency.
Henry’s eyes cleared. He glanced about, realizing they were in his room. The connecting door to the dressing room was open, and Harold sat on the threshold, his head cocking to one side as if he, too, wondered what was wrong. “Sarah has ... she has accepted an offer of marriage.”
The words came out leaden, his voice so hoarse he didn’t recognize it as his own. Hannah’s strokes down his arms and back ceased as she stilled her entire body. But her heartbeat thrummed on, increased in speed perhaps, as he left his head where it lay.
A cacophony of emotions swept through Hannah at that moment. Relief, that nothing was wrong with Nathan. Sorrow on Henry’s behalf, for she knew he loved Sarah. Happiness for Sarah, for she secretly knew the woman was no longer satisfied with being whatever she was to Henry. Hope for herself, for she knew at that moment she carried his child. She had to. That news alone would help Henry recover from his shock and agony.
Wouldn’t it?
“You gave her permission to do so?” Hannah whispered the query, her hands starting their gentle strokes across his back and down his arms as she held him. His tears had penetrated the fine lawn of her gown, plastering the translucent fabric against her breast.
“Mmm,” he responded, his head nodding. “Although she did not ask as much as tell me ...” His voice was clearer now.
“Did she tell you whom she is to marry?” Hannah kept her words quiet and soft, aware that the tension in his body was sprung tight and could unravel at any moment.
Henry stayed very still for several minutes. “Tad McDonald.”
Although the name should have been a surprise to Hannah, she suddenly felt guilty. She had known even before he said the name. Sarah was quite besotted the last time Hannah had paid a call on her, the day Sarah described her upcoming trip to Bampton to shop as if it was the most important day of her life. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps it was that day that Mr. McDonald had asked for her hand. Perhaps she had known that day she spoke with Hannah – she had seemed about to burst with happiness knowing Henry was married. She had welcomed Hannah so warmly, seemed so intent on telling her everything, although the woman couldn’t exactly admit to having fallen in love with another man. Not when the earl was her protector and the father of her child. But there had been that light in her face, that glow that spoke volumes about how a woman felt ...
“I lied to you,” Henry’s voice broke into her reverie, the words so unexpected she nearly gasped. Lied? About what? “I didn’t just go to Sarah’s to spend time with Nathan. I went there ...”
Hannah could sense the tension in his body increase, as if anger and betrayal had suddenly replaced his sorrow.
“I went there to ... to bed Sarah. It has been more than a month since I .., and I meant only to renew my relations with her ...” His breathing had quickened, and his head no longer lay pressed against her. “She is mine, after all. It is my right!”
Hannah let go her hold on him, not sure how to respond to his revelation nor to his rising anger. Or her own flash of ... was that jealousy she felt just then? She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Sarah was marrying another. “I figured as much when you did not return earlier,” Hannah offered, hoping her conciliatory tone would calm him. The words seemed to have the opposite effect, though. He stood up from the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.
Hannah dared a glance at them before returning her gaze to his face, trying hard not to allow fear to show in her eyes. Henry caught the look, though, and followed Hannah’s quick glance. He unclenched his fists. Biting his lip, he looked around as if he wanted to punch something. “Damn her!” he whispered hoarsely.
Starting at his curse, Hannah’s eyes widened. Should she tell him now? No, not when he was so angry. Perhaps another approach. He’d gone to Sarah’s expecting to bed her. So bed me instead, she thought quickly. Despite his anger and sorrow, the thought of him atop her this very moment sent a thrill through her body. The space between her thighs began throbbing with need, her nipples hardened, and somewhere in her core, desire bloomed. “Take me instead,” she ordered, her chin thrust out. “Pretend I am Sarah. Bed me the way you do her.”
The challenge seemed to catch him by surprise. His brows furrowed. He looked at her with a sideways glance and shook his head quickly.
“Do you undress her, or does she take off her own clothes?” Hannah asked then, rising to her knees on the bed. She slid the dressing gown from her body and tossed it to the side. “Does she remove your clothes?” She reached out to capture the ends of his cravat. She yanked the linen from around his neck and moved to pull his shirt from his breeches. He stepped away, pulling his shirt off his body in a quick motion, his breaths quickening. His hands were undoing the fastenings of his breeches, his eyes boring into hers the entire time. He wore no boots or stockings; he had to have removed them when he first got into the room. With one swift yank, his breeches were off his body. Standing before her, naked, his cock hard and upright, his chest heaving from breathing too fast, Henry looked every inch a predator.
His prey still stood on her knees on the bed, her lips parted and her eyes smoldering, daring him to do his worst. The outline of her erect nipples shown through her nightgown, the dark space above her thighs apparent through the translucent fabric.
Hannah held her breath as he suddenly advanced, an arm like steel wrapping around her waist to force her knees from beneath her. As she fell to the bed, he had the front of her gown between his fists, the cloth rending as he pulled it apart from the top. She stifled the cry of alarm that was about to erupt from her as she felt the shredded fabric flutter to the sides, her arms still encased in its billowy sleeves. His body descended onto hers. She knew instantly there would be no foreplay, no gentle kissing or stroking or licking. Henry was hell-bent for intercourse, hard and fast.
And, at that moment, Hannah’s need matched his.
Opening her legs as his body dropped, she moved to wrap her arms around his neck. He captured them both and forced them above her head, pinning her wrists with an iron grip as his hardened manhood drove home in one hard, unforgiving thrust, filling her instantly. Her upper body rose up in reaction, her heavy-lidded eyes opening wide before returning to their smoldering glare. “Yes,” she hissed, not knowing what else to say to such a frantic assault. The cant of her chin dared him to do it again, and he took the challenge, pulling himself all the way out of her body before plunging back into her as her legs wrapped around his back, her ankles anchoring one another to his back. Her hips lifted to meet his thrust, forcing a growl to escape as he met the unexpected counter thrust and felt the cage of her legs around his body.
“Hannah,” he hissed back, his mouth coming down hard on one of her breasts, his lips and teeth suckling and biting so hard she was sure she would be left with bruises.
Her chest lifting in response, Hannah gasped, her hips again meeting his in the hard, fast rhythm he had quickly established. Although she thought she should feel fear at his animalistic behavior, she instead felt excitement. Arousal. Primal lust. In only one more thrust, she would peak, she would crest and the waves of pleasure would cascade down around her and she would be lost. But what of him? “Now!” she groaned, her chest lifting again, her back arcing as he filled her.
Henry’s mouth came off her breast. “I will not spill my seed on this bed,” he growled in response. “Never again!” His cock left Hannah’s body and plowed into her one more time, this time her sheath clenching on him so hard he was forced to allow his climax, forced to allow his seed to spill into her, forced to allow a wave of sharp and sudden
pleasure to grab him and violently toss him and leave him gasping for air and seeking respite in the soft body that lay beneath him, the body that was caught in its own spasms of pleasure so violent he had to let go of her wrists so he could hold himself up for just a moment more.
Suddenly released from his hold, Hannah’s arms spread out on either side of her body, the white, billowy sleeves of her ruined nightgown making her look as if she bore angel’s wings. Her hair, spread out on either side of her head, formed a halo on the pillows. But her eyes were still black, black with desire, black with ... fury? Did Sarah not allow him to take his pleasure whilst he was inside her? Did Henry always have to withdraw and spill his seed in her bed?
He must have, when Sarah said, “Now.” Hannah had meant it only as a warning of her impending orgasm, not a demand that he withdraw from her. And then Hannah remembered Sarah’s words. I have known I will never have another child with Henry. I make sure of it. All those years Henry spent with Sarah, and yet he could never have her the way he had had Hannah these past two weeks. He could never share in the pleasure of a mutual orgasm, of the sensation of being torn apart in splendid release and put back together piece by piece with the gentle undulations of a woman’s secret place.
Henry’s gaze slowly cleared as his body put itself back together. He still hovered over her, his upper body held up on elbows that threatened to give way at any moment. And he swept his eye over the body beneath him. Hannah looked every bit the angel, her breasts still lifted and lowered with her every labored breath, her smoldering eyes clearing to finally meet his in mutual recognition.
“Oh, good God, what have I done?” he got out as he tried to lift himself from her body. Her legs were still wrapped around his buttocks, though, preventing his spent body from lifting away from her. He collapsed down, burying his head in the pillow next to her head, her spread arm beneath his collarbone. “Oh, Hannah,” he whispered, his voice sounding as if he might cry.
The Seduction of an Earl Page 29