Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  Placing Grace beside him on the seat of a borrowed gig, Gabriel drove the short distance to Linton Park. There, the countess and Lady Worthing had arranged a wedding breakfast. For the first time in weeks, Gabriel felt like celebrating.

  *

  Grace had risen that morning to the exquisite knowledge on this day she would marry the man she dearly loved. Despite reason. Despite circumstance. Despite station, she had stumbled into the arms of one of the handsomest men in England. Even if he never loved her, she would be his wife. The mother of his children. Late last evening, Lady Worthing had come to Grace’s room to explain what Grace should expect from the marriage bed. Grace had not planned to confess she and Lord Godown had anticipated their vows. When she had explained her reasons for accepting the marquis’s attention in Scotland, Lady Worthing had slid her arm about Grace’s shoulder and had pronounced Grace’s decision a “reasonable” one.

  She did not believe herself reasonable, but Grace thanked her stars to have found a friend such as Lady Worthing. A person who would accept her flaws without censure. Somehow, she had earned the respect of Lady Worthing and Lady Linworth. Their allegiance would see her through the early days of marriage, and surprisingly, despite her caustic opening speech, Lord Godown’s aunts had made genuine gestures to welcome her to the family. Be it any wonder she could not wipe the smile from her face.

  *

  “Come, my Dear,” Gabriel said as he extended his hand to his wife. She sat beside his Aunt Bel, and they appeared very cozy. “Lady Linworth has agreed to play a waltz. When we were in Scotland, I believe I promised you a dance.”

  Grace’s countenance flushed with color, but her smile widened, and Gabriel felt his world shift. “You remembered?” she said happily.

  Gabriel caught her fingertips as she stood. “I would be a poor excuse for a husband if I could recall nothing of our courtship,” he said teasingly.

  Grace moved into his arms as Lady Linworth struck up the song’s first chords. “There is little to remember, my Lord. You slept through much of our short courtship,” she taunted.

  As Gabriel stepped into the music, he whispered into her hair, “I recall certain aspects of those days more clearly than others.” He tightened his hold on her. Worthing and his guests looked on for they were the only couple spinning about the small open area. Evidently, Grace had not noticed for her countenance displayed nothing but joy. Gabriel leaned closer to keep his words private. “I recall the cream of your skin and the heat of you beside me.”

  Grace’s eyes dipped, and she rasped, “I forgot not one moment, my Lord.”

  God! He wanted her. Gabriel felt his groin tighten as he spun Grace to a stop. “We must depart if we expect to reach Gossling Hill before dark,” he told her as his friends surrounded them upon the dance floor.

  A small smile curved her mouth’s corners. Grace nodded her understanding. “Lady Worthing’s maid has seen to my things.”

  “Then we must bid our family farewell,” he announced to the smiling countenances, which crowded about them. “Lady Godown and I mean to reach Staffordshire this evening.”

  Lexford slapped him on the back. “You wish to know your own bed tonight,” the viscount teased.

  Grace’s averted her eyes, but she did not release Gabriel’s hand, a fact he greatly appreciated. Although she was far from innocent, he realized Miss Haverty would have objected to Lexford’s taunt. Grace took it all in good spirits, and for that, Gabriel was thankful. He kissed each of his aunts. “Lady Godown and I expect you to join us for Christmastide.”

  Lyn answered for the trio. “We shall tarry for a few days with the Earl and Lady Linworth. Then we will follow, but more slowly than we arrived.”

  Grace said honestly, “I shall anticipate your arrival, Lady Hyatt. I mean to know your secrets for the perfect Christmas feast.”

  Lía added, “My sister is the culinary expert in the family. She plans the most magnificent meals.”

  Grace enthusiastically hugged each of the Roses and then Lady Worthing and the countess. In less than a week, she had won the loyalty of five powerful women. Despite the nagging warning that said he should beware, Gabriel felt an honest pride in his new bride. “You have all been so kind,” she gushed. “I possess no words to express my gratitude.”

  *

  They had ridden most of the day and into the early winter darkness. “We will arrive soon,” he told her as he noted the familiar buildings of a neighboring village. Amazingly, they had spoken little throughout the day. He had envisioned holding Grace in his arms. Kissing her. Touching her. Sharing secrets.

  Instead, she had sat staunchly in the forward facing seat and had stared out the coach’s window. Occasionally, she had asked something specific regarding the running of his household, but there had been no intimacies, and Gabriel had found the prospect of his mistaken choice quite daunting. Unable to stand the possibility any longer, he asked the darkness. “Grace, have I done something to offend you?”

  “No, my Lord,” she said softly.

  In frustration, he growled, “Then where did the woman I married go? While at Linton Park, you were carefree and thoroughly delightful. In the last eight hours, you have said less than a dozen sentences without my prompting.”

  For several minutes, silence filled the shadowy carriage. Finally, she said, “Do you realize I am a marquise?”

  Gabriel felt his irritation rise. “That is the normal standard when one marries a marquis,” he said testily.

  Deep in her own thoughts, Grace ignored his tone. “And that I am to be the mistress of a great house?”

  “Yes,” he said suspiciously.

  “And my children?”

  Gabriel finished her sentence, “Will inherit a title and lands.”

  In the moon’s reflecting light, he saw her grimace. “I do not know how to be any of those things: a marquise, a lady of the manor, or a mother.”

  Gabriel’s impatience lessened. He slid across the coach’s small space to capture her hand. “Is that what all this is about? You fear failing in the new roles you have assumed?” He heard the nearly silent sob, and he pulled her into his embrace. “Listen to me, Grace. Everyone has these moments when he questions his ability to fill his destiny. God only knows that I do so daily, but we have set our feet on this path. I will not leave you to tend to your own devices. We have begun this journey together, and we will end it as such.” He felt the moisture on her cheeks and flicked the tears away with his thumbs.

  “I did not marry you for your ability to run a household. I have a very competent housekeeper to run the manor house and a steward to oversee the land. What I do not have is someone to share private moments. To speak to the loneliness. To share my bed.” He brushed her lips with his. The darkness permitted him the liberty to speak honestly. “If you could fill the roles I have described, I would count myself blessed among men.”

  Despite her limited interactions with gentlemen of the ton, his wife appeared to accept the intensity of his tone and the look in his eyes as proof of his words. She sniffed loudly, “I would wish to be that person. The one you have defined,” she said with a rasp.

  “Then kiss me, Grace.” She tumbled into his arms. They had always possessed a sexual connection, and Gabriel would use that desire to build their relationship. Clinging to his shoulders, she moved closer, and Gabriel deepened the kiss. This was the woman upon whom he had thought for the past two months, and tonight, she would warm his bed.

  *

  Grace has survived the introductions to Lord Godown’s senior staff and the very intimate meal he had arranged. His Lordship had assigned one of the younger maids to tend her. Elated at having been singled out to attend the house’s new mistress, the girl, known as Avery, chattered on about how ecstatic the staff was over Lord Godown’s wedding. Finally, the girl left Grace alone to wait for him–for her husband.

  However, when a light tap came on the interior door, Grace’s heart stilled. This was her wedding night. A nig
ht she had never thought to see.

  *

  Gabriel had downed two glasses of brandy, not because he needed to shore up his resolve, but to deaden the excitement building in his blood. “Not a good idea to go off too soon,” he had told himself as he finished the second glass. Now, as he raised his hand to knock upon the door that would open into Grace’s chambers, he felt his blood warming faster than he had anticipated. With a deep steadying breath, he turned the latch and stepped into the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The door clicked as he turned the key for privacy. She stood before him in a thin muslin nightrail, which left very little to his imagination. Her body was more developed than he remembered, but there was definitely nothing amiss about his wife’s figure. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her and tearing away the cloth one strip at a time.

  “Grace,” he said hoarsely.

  “My Lord.” Her lips formed the words, but the sound was barely perceptible.

  He shook his head in the negative. “In this room I am Gabriel.” Flames danced in his eyes.

  “Gabriel,” she said with a small smile.

  His gaze slid across her form again. The “V” at the apex of her thighs. The dark nub of her nipples. He was so hard his erection hurt.

  With a growl, he moved quickly to pull her into his arms. As his lips found hers, Gabriel backed her toward the exterior door. Pining her against the hard surface, he held Grace where he might press his hardness against her soft planes. Warm and firm and intoxicating, her lips met his with the intensity, which always loomed between them. He had taught her to kiss thusly, and Gabriel relished how easily she returned his passion. No prudish innocent for his wedding night. His wife met his desire with hers.

  Releasing her mouth, Gabriel nestled her head under his chin while his chest rose and fell in gasping breaths. “I must have you, Grace,” he said as he ran his hands up and down her back.

  He felt her nod of agreement. Catching her about the waist and under her knees, Gabriel lifted her to him. He turned and strode to the bed. Unceremoniously, he lowered her to the mattress. Evidently, when his aunts had received notice of his marriage, they had set his staff to the task of preparing his mother’s room for his new wife. The clean linens had been scented with lavender sachets, and the room smelled of fresh beeswax.

  Following her down, Gabriel’s body covered hers. It amazed him how well they fit together. As if they were made for each other.

  His mouth returned to hers as if his hands explored Grace’s body. “I have dreamed of this,” he whispered. His lips trailed a line of wet kisses from her ear to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Grace, I want to look upon you. Please permit me to know you completely.”

  Her arms lifted to circle his neck, and she answered by pulling him to her for another kiss. This time, Gabriel’s tongue slide between her lips, and her body arched closer to his.

  As he kissed her, his hand slipped beneath the nightrail’s hem. His fingers caressed her bare skin as he lifted the garment. As he inched the cloth higher, Gabriel felt his dreams coming true. Not that he had dreamed of a willing wife. Most men of his station were fortunate to know a woman who endured their desires, but Grace was more than tolerating his advances. She welcomed him. His wife brought vitality to the room, and he had always dreamed of bringing life to Gossling Hill.

  *

  Grace knew not what to expect, but this was beyond her comprehension. Every time Lord Godown kissed her, her heart ceased to beat and her bones became the consistency of a Gunter’s frozen ice. Lady Worthing had described such pleasure, but Grace had not understood until this moment. Of course, she had lain with her husband previously, but that night was nothing like this burning intensity As exquisite as that memory had been, this one would surpass it.

  Grace thought it impossible his man could look upon her with such intensity. His golden hair hung tousled about his face, and his god-like countenance displayed the passion he felt. A passion as deep as hers.

  *

  Gabriel’s lips kissed a line of heat along her throat. His knuckles stroked the outside of her thighs as he pushed the cloth higher. It exposed her apex, and Gabriel’s erection jerked in the tight breeches he still wore. His groin screamed for release, but he meant to pleasure his wife before his lust was quenched. The material slid over her hips, her waist, her breasts, her shoulders, and her head. He tossed it somewhere behind him and looked upon Grace’s body.

  Lying self-consciously naked upon the bed, Grace moved to cover herself with her hands, but Gabriel brushed them aside. “You are as beautiful as I imagined,” he whispered hoarsely. Bizarre circumstances had thrown them together. If not for Fate, he might never have seen her, and Gabriel realized that situation would have been one of his greatest sins.

  He lowered his mouth to her breast and tongued her nipple. Grace rewarded him with a throaty moan. As he slid his hand across the flat of her stomach, Gabriel sucked her breast deeply, while Grace writhed beneath him. With his fist, he bumped her legs apart and traced the wetness he found between her folds up and down the length of her. Finally, he slid a finger into her opening, and she groaned audibly.

  “Permit me to bring you pleasure, Grace,” he whispered as he reclaimed her mouth. The heat scorched his lips, but Gabriel wanted more. He wanted to remain in this bed forever. His desire flamed, and he did not think he could survive this experience, but he would die happy.

  Quickly, he divested himself of his breeches, his small clothes, and his robe. Heat against heat, he draped his body over Grace’s “Hmm,” he groaned as she moved against him. He returned to her breasts. Cupping them, Gabriel devoured them with nips, licks, and deep drawing of his lips across the nipples. Grace stroked his hair. Stiff pebbled peaks rubbed against his chest hair when Gabriel turned to work his hand between their bodies. He found the nub at her apex and stroked it until Grace moved against him.

  When she clutched the bed linens in her fists, he slid two fingers into her wetness. With his thumb he concentrated his energies into building a heat she could not resist. “Permit it to carry you away,” he whispered to her ear. “It is the way nature intended it to happen.” His tongue traced her nipples, and Grace’s legs slammed tight around his hand. She arched beneath him as a keening gasp escaped her lips. “Gabriel,” she moaned.

  He permitted her an easy release. After all, it was her first true climax. Wiping his fingers upon the bed cloths, Gabriel slid up the length of her body and nuzzled her neck. “I did not think you could be more beautiful than when I looked upon you earlier, but I erred,” he said softly. As her breathing became more normal, Gabriel lifted himself onto his forearms. “Are you prepared to know me as your husband, Grace?”

  “Yes, Gabriel. I wish to be your wife completely.” Surprisingly, her voice held determination.

  Settling himself between her legs, Gabriel positioned his head at her opening. When they had known intimacies in Mr. Bradshaw’s Scottish inn, Gabriel had not been at his best, but tonight he would bury himself in her. The thought of it caused his erection to jerk in his hand. Closing his eyes to the exquisite pleasure of her heat, Gabriel slid the tip into her opening and pressed forward. She was so wet. So hot. He could have exploded immediately. An inch. And then two.

  The delicious friction drained his control. Gabriel pressed further: Until he rested deeply within her heat. He leaned forward for another kiss and began to move within her. “Wrap your legs about my hips,” he rasped. Sliding his hands beneath Grace’s hips, he lifted her ever so slightly. Tilting her where he might bury himself to the hilt. A guttural moan escaped his throat.

  As he set up a rhythm, Grace’s cheeks flushed, and her lids drifted closed. “Look at me, Grace,” he groaned on a deep intake of air. “I want to lose myself in your eyes.”

  The heat drove him faster, but Gabriel fought for control. He would not know his own release until Grace knew pleasure again.

  Tongues met. They each demanded
a pleasure only the other could give. Closer. Closer to the edge. He rocked them to a shuddering spasm. When her core clenched about him, Gabriel gave into the explosion of stars. With one more powerful thrust he spilled his seed inside her body.

  He collapsed upon her. His attraction to this woman was not a reasonable one, and she was certainly not part of his plans. He should be questioning her regarding her involvement in the attacks upon his personage. Yet, he could not deny his need for her. Where in the hell had his control gone? He was the perfect British agent. An egotistical aristocrat who knew his place in the world. Yet, he had turned his title over to a woman who had no connections of which to speak.

  Gabriel rolled to his side and gathered Grace into his arms. “Sleep, my Dear,” he said as she snuggled closer. He draped a blanket over them.

  “Is it always like that, my Lord?’ she said with a heavy sigh.

  Gabriel thought, Never until tonight, but he said, “You and I are perfect together.”

  *

  For three days, he had paced the halls of Gossling Hill like some randy schoolboy. He had never known the same woman so many times in such a short period. And what was so ironic was he could have willingly taken Grace to bed double the times. He had refrained because he worried she might not wish his attentions so often; surprisingly though, Grace had welcomed each of his overtures.

  This morning she had curiously touched him, and Gabriel had fought for control. His wife had actually giggled when he had collapsed onto the bed in a quivering heap. With his last breath, he rasped, “How did you know?”

  His wife slid into his loose embrace, resting her head upon his shoulder. As she mindlessly ran those pure gold fingers across his chest, Grace said softly, “Lady Worthing insisted on having a serious talk regarding the myths of the marriage bed.” She raised her head to look upon him seriously. “The viscountess thought she performed a great service.” Her head returned to his shoulder, and she sighed as his hand lightly stroked her back. “Therefore, I listened closely to Lady Worthing. Much of what she said spoke of an intimacy I could never have imagined if there had been no Scottish inn.”