Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123)

by Coulter, Catherine

  “Hallie, the damned buttons. It’s important to unfasten the damned buttons.”

  She said absolutely nothing, looked up at him through the veil of her hair, her eyes so filled with excitement, fear, and lust, he wanted to laugh, then he didn’t because she unbuttoned three buttons in a flash and was kissing his belly, and lower. Her fingertips touched him, stroked him, held him, and he felt her warm breath on his flesh. “Oh God,” he said, and knew it was going to be very close. “You’ve got to let me go, Hallie. No, don’t kiss me, not now, I can’t bear it. Take your hands away.” He didn’t want to, the good Lord knew he didn’t, but he grabbed her beneath her arms and hauled her up, grateful that she’d released him at the last moment. “That’s very nice, really, don’t get me wrong, a man loves for a woman to touch him with her hands and her mouth, rub her cheek over his belly, her hair all tangled, her breath hot, but I can’t take it at this particular moment, Hallie. There are other things now.” He shuddered, gulped down a deep breath. “It’s your turn.”

  “You mean there’s a certain order to this business?”

  “Not really, but a man doesn’t want to maul, well, never mind that. Trust me.”

  “But I want to touch you again, and your taste, Jason, it makes me want—”

  “Be quiet. Your words make me see things and start shaking. Close your mouth. I know what’s to be done.” Even as he got her out of her clothes, she touched him, tried to kiss him. “Stand up.” When finally, she was naked, he took a quick step back. He knew she’d be beautiful, hadn’t doubted it for an instant, but the reality of her, the fact that they were here together, married, for God’s sake, and she belonged to him now and forever, made him look at her differently.

  “I will try to make you happy, Hallie,” he said, and then there were no more words. He got his breeches off, picked her up and laid her on her back, coming down over her, his mouth on hers, the length of him against her soft flesh.

  “Don’t worry about any of this,” he said into her mouth. “Just do what I tell you.”

  “What do you want me to do first?”

  He shuddered like a palsied man. “Open your legs for me.” She parted her legs, just a bit.

  “That’s right, that’s exactly what I wanted you to do. Mayhap a bit more. That’s it.” He wondered how a man could bear this. Pleasure, he thought, drugging pleasure, but she was a virgin, she didn’t understand what all this was going to feel like, even if she knew what happened between Dodger and the mares. He knew he couldn’t simply take her, he had to do things right. His twin had confided in him that he’d mucked up his own wedding night, and when he’d awakened, he was afraid Corrie had left him. “It was an awful feeling,” James had said, shaking with the memory. “If I’d had a sword I would have run myself through. Force yourself to back off. Don’t fall on her and yell like a wild man.”

  Jason backed off, came down on his knees between her legs. He held her ankles, slowly pulled her legs farther apart. Her legs quivered. “You are so bloody beautiful.” He was looking at her, between her parted legs, and she was so embarrassed and so excited, both at the same time, that she lay there, staring at him. “Tell me what to do, Jason.”

  He never looked up, merely shook his head slowly. “Nothing at all, just let me do what I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “First I want to put my mouth on you. If you don’t know what I mean, don’t worry about it, only know that I’m going to make you scream. Yes, I can do it without trembling myself off the bed.” But he didn’t have a chance. Hallie lurched up, knocked him backward and came down on top of him, covering all of him she could manage. He was laughing so hard it gave him a measure of control, thank God.

  “Oh my,” she said into his mouth, “tell me what to do, Jason, but be quick about it.”

  He sat her upright to straddle his belly, told her not to move, to watch his hands stroke every beautiful inch of her. “Know these are my hands, Hallie. They’ll be on you for the rest of our lives. Ah, the feel of you, the smoothness of your skin. I am a very strong man.” He grinned, pulled her down again. When his tongue was in her mouth, he whispered, “This is how I’m going to be inside you, like my tongue, but first—”

  She was frantic when at last he caressed her with his mouth. He’d told her he was going to do this, but she hadn’t been able to grasp the reality of it, what it made her feel, and he knew it, and didn’t stop. When he felt her stiffen, felt her back arch, felt her pulling out his hair, he was a king. Her scream and her shudders, her hands fisting on his arms, her hot breath against his neck, it turned his king’s brain to mush. He drove inside her in the next moment, felt her maidenhead give, felt her jerk of pain. He touched his forehead to hers when he was against her womb. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry. Lie still, let yourself get used to me.”

  “It’s hard.”

  That was certainly the truth. “I know, but try. It will get better.” She was still holding herself stiff, but when he didn’t move, her body began to ease around him. He felt himself deep inside her. Soon he was moving, slowly.

  She lurched up, stared at him, her eyes blind. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, it’s happening again, Jason. This is too much, simply too much, and surely we will both die of it. Please, don’t stop.”

  When he himself yelled above her, feeling that delicious soft body of hers twisting and heaving beneath him, he was glad he hadn’t mucked things up. He’d given her pleasure twice, it was well done of him. And they were both sweating. It was very well done of him.

  Hallie lay in the darkness that had finally swallowed up the midsummer day not more than ten minutes earlier, and listened to Jason’s deep, even breathing. He’d fallen over her, given her a silly smile and fallen asleep. She remembered as a child how she’d slept with her father, realized now how careful he’d been to wrap her in her own covers first.

  To sleep with a man, to lie naked with a man, to feel him against her, his cooling flesh, the inner heat of him that didn’t lessen, it amazed her. She wondered if Jason was dreaming, and if so, what he was dreaming about right now. About her?

  Probably not. She remembered Lady Lydia, now her grandmother-in-law, her veiny old hand lightly patting Hallie’s as she leaned close, smelling like ironed lace and the fresh lemon wax she rubbed into the eagle head of her cane, and whispered, “Jason is a fine young man. Give him what he needs, Hallie.”

  “What do you think he needs, Grandmama-in-law?”

  “He needs to have his heart rekindled.”

  He needed to have his heart rekindled? What did that mean? He needed her to love him?

  Was what she felt for him the same as what she’d felt initially for Lord Renfrew? She didn’t think so. This was deeper, richer, more urgent.

  Did she love Jason? Well, if it was love she was feeling leaping out of her, she wasn’t about to blurt it out to him. No, she realized, lightly laying her hand on his belly, feeling the muscles tighten unconsciously, what he really needed was to trust again. To trust her. And maybe that would rekindle his heart.

  Her new father-in-law approved of her, she knew that, and he’d said as he’d touched his fingertips to her cheek at their wedding breakfast, “Trust is a precious commodity, fragile yet binding once it’s accepted by both the heart and the intellect and has burrowed deep inside. Be yourself, Hallie. All will be well. My son isn’t a dolt.”

  “No,” she’d agreed. “He isn’t.” What trust was, she thought now, was an elusive commodity.

  It was a meaty goal, this trust and rekindling business, after what this Judith woman had done to him five years before. She snuggled next to him, wondering if it would be all right to wake him up. Why not? He’d told her she could jump him any time. She eased down his body, kissing every inch in her path. When she took him into her mouth, he nearly arched off the bed, fisted her hair in his hands, and groaned like he was in mortal pain.

  When he came into her, still not entirely awake, she pulled him close, felt all
of him deep inside her, closed her eyes, felt his whiskers against her cheek, and thanked God for sending her to Lyon’s Gate that particular day two months before.

  Once again, early the next morning, Hallie lay on her back, panting for breath after the cataclysm, her eyes nearly crossed. She felt she could sink through the bed, perhaps sink through the floor as well. What room was beneath the bedchamber? She didn’t want to move. Her eyes jerked open at Jason’s appalled voice. “My God, it looks like I killed you!”

  “Wha—what?”

  “Oh God, how many times did I take you?”

  “What a strange way to say it. Take me—like I didn’t have any say in it.”

  “Hallie, it doesn’t mean anything. Wake up.”

  “I don’t want to wake up right now, Jason. My brain isn’t working well, only my mouth. I certainly remember the last time you, ah, took me—just five minutes ago. How can you even talk?”

  “Hallie, are you all right?” He sat down beside her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

  Her head fell back against the pillow, and she moaned. “I feel like my bones have faded out of me. Let me lie here in endless bliss, Jason. I’m all right, I must be since I did speak to you.”

  “Yes, but you looked ridiculous while you spoke, grinning like a loon with no sense.”

  She giggled. He looked harassed. She watched him rake his fingers through his hair, stroke his whiskered chin. She realized he was now looking down at her belly, perhaps even lower, and somehow the covers were gone. She yelped, trying to pull the covers over herself. He stayed her hand. “Ah, damn me and damn my randy self. Forgive me, sweetheart, I had no idea, I mean, I know that virgins bleed the first time, but—oh God, blink your eyes at least three times at me if you’re really awake and not just grinning like that because you’ve fallen back asleep and are dreaming.”

  “I’m awake now, Jason. What are you doing? Don’t look at me. Please, it’s very embarrassing. What do you mean, bleed?”

  “Nonsense, I’m your husband. Don’t move. I’m going to clean you up. It’s just a bit of blood, nothing to worry about. I’m sorry about waking you up that third time, Hallie.”

  “It was the fourth.”

  “That’s right, you woke me up the third time. I’m innocent of that one. Hmm. The second time as well if I remember rightly. Four times? Well, that’s nice now, isn’t it?” He looked immensely pleased with himself, looked at the blood smeared on her thighs again and paled.

  “Oh yes,” she said. “I did. Don’t worry, I’m all right. I am, aren’t I?”

  “Yes,” he said and prayed he was right. He’d never heard of a bride bleeding to death from her wedding night.

  When he went to fetch a cloth and the basin of water on the commode, she jerked up, pulled up the sheet, and said, “You really don’t need to do this. I’m fine, at least I think I am.” She tented the white sheet over her head and looked down at herself. “Oh dear, perhaps I am a bit of a mess. But I don’t think I’m dying. I feel wonderful. You said I was supposed to bleed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then, all right. Hand me that cloth.”

  He watched her hand slide out from beneath the sheet and placed the damp cloth on her palm. He heard her talking to herself, probably discussing both sides of this problem, although he couldn’t imagine how there could be a second side. He wished he could make out her words. He had a feeling that if he could, he’d be howling with laughter.

  “You won’t leave the house ever again, will you, Jason?”

  “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no.” And because he was worried, he pulled the sheet off her and made certain she was all right himself.

  CHAPTER 34

  Northcliffe Hall

  August 10th

  Hallie sent a blinding smile out to the table at large as she said to her father-in-law, “You wish to know about the Isle of Wight, sir? Hmm. Well, yes, I have it—Ventnor is quite picturesque. It lies on the southeastern coast, I believe. I have sent the duke and duchess of Portsmouth a watercolor of Dunsmore House to thank them.”

  Corrie said, “I didn’t know you did watercolors, Hallie.”

  “Well, I do, actually, but I didn’t do this one. There simply wasn’t enough time. I commissioned it from a young man we found painting on the beach.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t have time?” Hallie’s father asked, his fork still over his plate, an eyebrow up. “I found two weeks more than ample time for me to do everything I wished in London.”

  “You forget, Alec,” Douglas said. He snapped his fingers. “At certain times in life, time goes by that fast.”

  Baron Sherard said, grimmer than any reaper, “Not when we’re speaking of my daughter, it doesn’t. Whenever I thought about her with your damned son, knowing what damned sons are like, since I was one once, my belly cramped.” Alec sent a look of acute dislike to his new son-in-law.

  Lady Lydia announced, “I never had a honeymoon worth speaking of.”

  “I don’t speak of mine either,” Angela said.

  “When we finally had a honeymoon,” Alex said, beaming at her husband, “I believe we spoke French the whole time.”

  The earl rolled his eyes.

  Lady Lydia snorted. “Always after my boy, you were—still are—don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing when I was visiting on Wednesday, laughing behind the estate room door. It’s a disgrace.”

  Hallie sat forward, all earnest, her eyes on her father’s face. “Two weeks on the Isle of Wight is nothing like two weeks in London, Papa. There was so much to do—”

  “Like what?” her father asked.

  “Well, like eating and sleeping now and again, and watching the sun rise, not to mention the sunsets.”

  Douglas caught his wife’s eye, then smiled at his new daughter-in-law. She looked glorious, she glowed, her eyes were bright, she sparkled, she was complacent. And she couldn’t seem to stop laughing. What she was, Douglas thought, was a pleased woman. As for his son, Douglas realized Jason looked content, perhaps he even looked at peace. He wondered if Hallie was pregnant yet. He wouldn’t be surprised.

  Corrie, far more innocent than she’d ever believe, said, “I visited the Isle of Wight only once, as a child. Uncle Simon got vilely seasick, so he swore he wouldn’t ever leave his dinner in The Solent again. You remember, Hallie, The Solent is what they call the strait in the English Channel between Southampton and the Isle of Wight.”

  “Of course I remember. Hmm. We didn’t leave from Southampton, did we, Jason?”

  “No, we left from Worthing.”

  Corrie said, “Is the bright red house still on the hill overlooking the harbor?”

  “Red house, you say? Jason, do you remember a red house? On a hill overlooking the harbor?”

  Jason looked perfectly blank.

  His twin said, “That’s all right, Jase. What’s a red house in the big scheme of things? What did you do besides visit Ventnor?”

  Jason continued to look perfectly blank.

  “We went down on the beach,” Hallie said, and raked her fork along the tablecloth just like she was raking sand. She paused and her hand trembled. Jason knew exactly what she was thinking.

  He cleared his throat, couldn’t think of a single word to say. His mother obligingly said, “Oh, you mean the beach off the right side of the promontory, not fifty yards from Dunsmore House? Did you swim?”

  “Yes,” Hallie said. “we were there most nights, except when it was raining.”

  “Nights?” Lady Lydia asked. “My dear child, you and your precious new husband went swimming in the evenings?”

  “Oh yes,” Hallie said, beaming. “There was no one about after the sun went down so we—oh dear, never mind that. Fact is, we did plan to swim one day after we’d eaten a lovely picnic lunch on the beach beneath a lovely tree, but then—” In a flash of inspiration, Hallie said, beaming at her mother-in-law, “We were invited to Lord and Lady Lindley’s house twice. Very charming peopl
e. Weren’t they, Jason?”

  “I believe they were. Yes, of course they were. Lord Lindley admired you, perhaps overmuch as I recall.”

  “What about Lady Lindley? I believed she would try to bite your neck she got so close to you. Not to mention those three girls who attempted a very old tried and true stratagem—”

  “The wedge,” Corrie said.

  “Yes, they tried a very nice wedge to get a clear path to you.”

  “What did you do?” Corrie asked.

  “I executed what I now call my counteroffensive. Jason, do you remember when I asked you to look at that particular painting on the drawing room wall?”

  “Yes, you nearly had me walking backward a good six feet as I recall.”

  Hallie nodded. “That’s it. It quite flummoxed them. Their wedge vanished, they fell into disarray.” She frowned. “However, this one young lady was determined but I whisked him off to a waltz.”

  “I like that counteroffensive,” Corrie said. “I’ll try it when James and I attend our next party.”

  Alex said, “Hallie, other than Lucille admiring my son’s neck, didn’t you find she has exquisite taste?”

  “Well, the inside of her armoire—it smelled quite fragrant, but that’s not important, now is it?”

  Alec Carrick choked.

  Hallie’s mother-in-law leaned over and smacked him between his shoulder blades.

  James said, “Mother, why should Hallie have remarked on Lady Lindley’s taste in particular?”

  “She sings beautifully, her voice has much the same rich tone of Hallie’s. But it’s louder, much more volume.”

  “But what does her voice have to do with her taste?” Angela asked.

  Douglas said, a dark brow raised, “She manages to shatter a crystal glass at each of her concerts, so I’ve been told.”

  Alex said, “The goblet she broke when we were last there was made specifically for her by the Waterford artisans.”

  Jason said, “Lady Lindley did sing for the group, so I heard later. Hallie and I didn’t happen to be in the drawing room at that particular moment to witness the goblet shattering. Grandmother, what are you and Angela fighting about this evening?”