by Jenna Jaxon
Her body flushed with heat all over again at his extravagant words. She wrapped her arms round his neck, lowered her lips to his ear, and whispered, “Will you return this favor? I too want to see and feel you, my love. Indeed, I am quite desperate for you now.”
His rough gasp sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. She yearned to rouse in him the passion he stirred in her, even if she didn’t know how. Lack of experience mattered little. She would find her way somehow.
She stripped off the ribbon in back and let his silky, blond hair swirl over her arms. With sensuous abandon, she ran her hands up and over his head, cupping it, pulling him toward her. Her mouth met his, teased it open, then instead of sliding her tongue home, she traced the outline of his lips with studied slowness. She came to rest at the center of the bottom one. A moment’s pause to torment him. Then she drew his lip into her mouth, tugged on the tender flesh with her teeth.
Amiable clasped her in sinewy arms and swept her down off the step. Without a word, he laid her on the bed and removed his coat, waistcoat, cravat. The fascinating display caught her in its spell. Blood pounded in her veins. The more he removed, the deeper she shook.
He pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest with a dusting of light blond hair. His shoulders seemed to have grown since he doffed his clothes. Perhaps all of him had. Her mind raced toward the ultimate part of him to be revealed. With the rest of him this magnificent, what must that look like?
His boots dropped to the floor. He raised an eyebrow. She lifted her chin. He grinned and skinned off his stockings, his calves taut and bulging with muscles. She swallowed and glanced upward to his waist. He rested his hand on his fall. One twitch and his breeches and drawers slid to the floor.
Her position on the bed put her at hip level so his growing manhood filled her field of vision. She couldn’t look away as he swelled before her eyes. Her body flushed and the air in the room seemed to disappear. A shiver of fear shot through her. Dear Lord, what was she doing? She crossed her legs and slid her arm across her breasts.
Amiable crossed to the bed and reached for the silk coverlet. “Help me pull the covers back, love. They will only be in our way.”
His words broke the spell. Once again, he was just Amiable, the man she loved, not some stranger she didn’t know. She scooted toward the headboard and he turned the cover back with military precision. She slipped beneath the cool sheets and he joined her there, his long body stretched far past hers. He’d never seemed this tall standing. His body heat caressed her, carrying a subtle scent of his shaving soap mingled with a darker musk. The smell of Amiable. He lay on his side, his head propped on his hand, gazing at her. A smug look of contentment lit his face.
Juliet gazed back. She could stay just like this until the inn fell down around them. However, that smug look told her even greater delights lay in store.
She stroked his cheek with a butterfly touch. “I love you.” She’d been sure of this almost from the first and it had colored all her dealings with him. If he hadn’t guessed it by now, the secret was out. He must know what they did now went beyond duty or honor or obligation. She would bind herself to him before any physical intimacy changed them for good.
His hand covered hers, moved it to his mouth for a blistering kiss to her palm. “And I love you, sweet.”
She stared at him, heart thudding in her chest, not daring to believe she’d heard him correctly. “Do you, Amiable? Do you really love me?”
“I would not be here in this bed if I did not, my love. It would be dishonorable to do so.”
“So when you asked me to marry you in Coalville it wasn’t just to satisfy honor?” What had he said that night? She couldn’t read his face then, for there had been no light.
His brows peaked. “Is that what you thought? That I offered for you just out of duty?”
She nodded, unable to voice the words. The hell of the past days had been unnecessary. The lump in her throat threatened to become tears.
“No, love. I had come to the conclusion that I need not offer for you for honor’s sake. No public compromise existed, so your reputation remained intact. And I still wanted to marry you. Had planned for us to be as we are now,” he waved a hand over their bed, “that night. But you said no.” His face drew in on itself and grief surfaced. “Even though I suspected you had planned to compromise me all along. To force a marriage proposal.”
“Yes, I had,” she admitted, squeezing his hand hard. “From the very first day.”
“My lovely schemer.” He smiled and brought her hand to his lips. “Still you said no.” His eyes searched her face, the unasked question burning between them.
She had to look at him. Call it penance or what you will, he deserved that.
“I realized, in the end, I did not want to trap you into marriage. I could not bear it if you married me for honor and not love when I loved you so very much.” She gripped his hands again. “It would have been cruel to both of us.”
He leaned over her, a gentle finger tracing the curve of her jaw. “So what is your answer now, my dear? Will you marry me?”
“Do you ask because of what we will do in this bed?” Another question she must ask, still unsure if honor held more sway than his feelings.
“Yes,” he said and smiled. “Because of what we are about to do, but also because I want to do it tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow as well. Every night, every day for the rest of our lives. Or until you wear me out.” His eyes twinkled. “I want to love you, cherish and protect you for as long as we live.” His tone turned serious. “I could not bear to think of leaving you at the estate, of riding away and never seeing you again. Not even if you bade me go. So over the past few days I imposed an exile. I wanted to see if you would miss me as much as I missed you.”
“Do not doubt it, Amiable. I have been quite wretched.” She clutched his shoulder to assure herself this was real and he was hers for all time.
“Will you allow me to make amends, love? Here. Now?” His face loomed over hers, filling the space above her in a way pleasantly forbidding. She nodded, twining her hands around his neck, ready for him to make them as one.
He traced the outline of her lips with one gentle finger, then tapped them. “Then I need your answer now, or we can go no further. I will act as husband only if I am to be one in earnest. Will you marry me, Juliet?”
“Oh, Amiable.” Relief and love washed over her. “Yes, yes, I will. I will marry you.”
He smiled, all white teeth and greedy eyes. “Then we must seal it with a kiss.” He covered her mouth, his lips burning away any last doubt of his feelings, his longing, his passion for her. She could die from such a kiss. From the happiness it promised.
His hand strayed down beneath the sheet, moving casually over her breasts, her waist, her stomach. It continued downward, past her navel, where it dipped into the shallow crater, causing her to tremble. At last, he came to rest it atop the wiry curls that heralded her most private place. A place where none had trespassed before. She tensed. A whole new world poised to open for her. She couldn’t wait.
Amiable returned to her lips, teasing them apart, his tongue stealing into her, caressing her even as his hand stroked all around her mound. She quivered, not quite with fear, not quite with anticipation.
He cocked his head, a wary look in his eyes. “What do you know of what occurs between a husband and wife, Juliet? Were you prepared when you were betrothed to St. Cyr?”
She shook her head and avoided his eyes, although the time for embarrassment should be long past. “I know very little. They broke the engagement before Aunt Phoebe could tell me about my duty. But you will teach me, won’t you, Amiable?” She stared back at him, a tinge of fear licking along her veins. Thank goodness Amiable was here beside her and not—. A shudder raced through her at the thought of St. Cyr in bed with her.
“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed her again, his ferocity building. “It will be m
y greatest pleasure.” He continued to stroke her, urged her legs apart. “You trust me, don’t you, love?”
“I do.” She breathed faster, deeper as he continued his intimate caresses.
“Even though I will be as loving and careful as possible, it will hurt this first time.”
She nodded. “I’d heard that part. That it hurts.” A sliver of fear pierced her.
He traced a finger down her inner thigh. “My hope is you will be distracted at the time.”
“Hmmm.” That felt good. “Distracted by what?”
“By things I will do to you. To prepare you to accept me into your body.”
“What things?” She squirmed, suddenly all too aware of his hand exploring that forbidden place.
“Things like this.” He dove underneath the sheet, seized her breast with his mouth, and sucked. Simultaneously, his fingers parted her already moist folds.
Juliet froze, halfway between desire and shame. The things he did were so very intimate but so pleasurable. She had dreamed of this intimacy for the past week. They loved one another. Soon he would be her husband. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to relax beneath his pulsing mouth and questing hand.
He stroked the folds around her entrance, then one long finger slid into her warm, wet passageway, breaching her for the first time. She flinched at the tender invasion and whimpered.
“Shhh, love.” His head reappeared. “It’s all right. Does that hurt?”
“N-no.” She eyed him warily. “Are you supposed to do that?”
He chuckled. “Does it feel good?”
“I don’t know.”
He wiggled his finger inside her, surprising a gasp out of her. Heat flushed her face and she hid it against his shoulder. She’d never have believed this if Aunt Phoebe had told her. The next moment she moaned into him as a second finger joined the first. It stung for a moment as she stretched to accommodate him. Her body heated all over. His fingers moved slowly, in and out until her sheath gripped them, urged them deeper.
He withdrew them and she relaxed into the bed. Such a delicious feeling, but it left her with an even greater ache between her thighs. Perhaps when he put all of himself there the ache would go away for good. Except his fingers were not done yet. They moved from her entrance and trailed up into her secret folds.
He pushed one particular spot and she soared. Her hips moved of their own accord, thrusting upward in a wanton display of passion. She wanted to beg him to stop but could not bear to lose the frantic pleasure he gave. Tension continued to build, a storm gathering strength.
Until it blew her into a thousand pieces, scattered her senses into a whirlwind and melted every bone. She sagged into the mattress, spent. Her head lolled to the side and she stared at Amiable through a haze, unable to speak.
His gaze rested on her face, his eyes bright with desire and fierce satisfaction. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. “Better, love?”
She nodded. A puff of wind and her whole body would float off the bed and fly away on a breeze.
He rose up on his arms and levered himself over her, moving her legs apart until he kneeled between her thighs. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face, so beautiful in its rapt absorption with what he did. He lifted her buttocks and positioned himself where his fingers had so recently played.
“Hold onto me, love.” She raised her heavy arms. “Just another moment. Another moment.”
He pulled her toward him until the heat of his erection seared her opening. She wriggled her hips, trying to see, and caught a glimpse of him, long and thick, poised at the brink. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clutched his neck and held her breath.
He pushed into her.
“Oww.” Deep and sharp pain burst below. It resolved into a stinging ache followed by a great fullness as he thrust forward. She didn’t open her eyes until Amiable groaned.
“I thought it was only supposed to hurt me,” she murmured through clenched teeth.
He laughed. “That was not a sound of pain, my love, but one of satisfaction. Now, how are you?” His worried gaze searched her face.
“It hurts.” She shifted, trying to lessen the sting. “But I am content,” she added, to reassure him. “Is it over then?” Disappointing if so. The other things he had done had been so lovely.
“The worst part is. Now comes the good part that makes you forget the other.” He pulled himself almost out of her, then thrust back in slowly. The same motion he’d done with his fingers and with his tongue in her mouth.
His shaft slid deeper, then he plunged all the way inside her.
An exquisite feeling of fullness as their bodies joined. An emptiness as they separated. He quickened his pace, each stroke tightening her, winding her up toward that astonishing release.
He seized her mouth, his tongue mimicking his thrusts down below. Such an incredibly arousing movement. A final hard thrust and Amiable cried out, low and guttural. The tension inside her spiked and exploded. Sparks shot through her body. Deep within, she clasped and released his shaft as it spewed his seed inside her. This time more intense, more pleasurable because Amiable had shared it with her. He lay still above her, his weight a wonderful reminder of their joined bodies. She could lie like this all night.
He raised himself, looking sweaty but oh, so satisfied. Struggling onto his elbows, he gazed at her, then stroked a disheveled strand of hair off her sweat-soaked brow.
“Did I please you, love?”
She smiled back, sated and happy. “If I say ‘no’ will you try again?”
He chuckled and rolled off her, grabbed the covers up over them, and snuggled her close, her head cradled on his shoulder. “Was that perhaps a ‘yes’?”
“No, that was a definite ‘yes’.” She turned in his arms, now facing him, her arm wrapped possessively around his waist. “Sleepy.”
“Then rest, love. I will stay until almost morning. But it would not do for your ‘brother’ to be caught in your bed by the servants.”
“Don’t want to sleep,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “Want to love you again.”
His lips brushed her forehead. “You will, sweetheart, but rest awhile first. We have an extra day’s journey ahead of us.”
“Where to?”
“Gretna Green.”
Chapter 16
The mild weather of August had finally given way to cooler days during the first week of September. Juliet paused while mixing the exact shade of blue for the brilliant morning sky, a prominent feature of her watercolor of Guinevere’s Keep as seen from the crag to the north of the manor house. Her favorite place on the property boasted splendid views in all four directions. She was determined to paint them all before the weather or Duncan’s arrival put a stop to her pastime, though with luck neither would occur before November.
Amiable lounged not far away on a blanket under a tree, absorbed in Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. Juliet smiled, taking in the clean lines of the handsome figure unaware of her scrutiny. If she could be sure he wouldn’t move, she’d sketch him and leave the house for another time. He might continue his reading, although he’d been lying there for some time already. A few moments later, he placed a stray leaf between the pages as a bookmark and closed the volume, exploding her hope of capturing his likeness.
He rose and came to stand behind her stool. Bending down, he placed a soft kiss on her neck. “How can you hope to finish your painting, my dear, if you persist in being distracted by me?”
“Should I then banish you, my knight, whenever I come to paint?” She lifted her head and claimed her own kiss. “If so I will never paint again. I would have you with me always, distracting as you are.”
“Then let me divert you a little more, gentle lady.” He drew her up off the stool and led her back to the blanket. Once seated, he reached into a basket and set out a variety of cakes, bread and cheese, and a large bottle of barley water.
; “Amiable, how lovely.” She took the bread and cheese he offered her and bit into it with gusto. “I am so hungry, even though I had a huge breakfast.”
“Painting must be hard work, then, sweetheart.” He tore small bites off a hunk of bread, alternating with bites of cheese.
“No, though I do often forget to eat when I am painting, don’t you know. I get so engrossed I lose track of the time and end up quite famished.” She popped the last bit of her bread into her mouth and reached for a cream-filled cake. “Mrs. Jeffries knows I adore her cream cakes. I must thank her.” She bit into the delicious confection and closed her eyes. Absolute bliss.
“I wish I could inspire such a look of delight on your face, my love.” Amiable grinned at her as he wiped away a dollop of cream on the side of her mouth then slowly licked it from his finger.
The gesture made her stomach flip, though not from hunger. A slow ache spread throughout her abdomen. A very familiar ache her husband roused in her constantly. Her cheeks heated.
“How can you still manage to look so innocent after two months of marriage?” Amiable chuckled as he reached for a cake.
She slid her gaze over the large bulge in his breeches. No one would ever think him innocent. “I don’t feel innocent, Amiable. In fact, I feel quite wicked when we…enjoy our pleasures.” Her face burned hotter, even shyer about saying it out loud.
His eyes gleamed with mischief as he stretched out on his side. “Do you want to be wicked now?” He broke the cake in two then licked the cream out.
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean here?” She scanned the grassy area, afraid hordes of people might have materialized out of thin air. “Outdoors?”
Amiable laughed and lay back on the blanket. “It would be glorious under the stars, but I don’t think I can wait that long.” He pulled her over to him, grazing his lips against hers, lightly first, then more insistent. “We will have to make do with sunshine and a cloudless sky.”