Of course she meant it. It was as if he was claiming that she did not know how a noun worked, which was utter nonsense.
‘Say it,’ he repeated, and moved a hand between them to squeeze one of her bare breasts.
‘Frederick,’ she gasped, surprised at the longing in her own voice.
‘Georgiana,’ he answered, as if speaking her name was some kind of reward. The slow massage continued, one hand pinching her nipple, the other rocking her hips against the wool of his breeches, moulding them to the hard bulge pulsing behind the flap. ‘You commented before on the paintings decorating the walls of Vitium et Virtus. How closely did you look at them?’
She shook her head, afraid to admit or deny lest he decide to punish her by sending her back to the house alone.
‘It does not matter. I will explain them to you, now.’ His voice was low, silky. Not precisely menacing, but definitely dangerous. And yet, it did not frighten her.
‘There is a particularly nice oil of a nymph surprised while bathing,’ he said. ‘This nymph stripped bare in the moonlight in a pond where a gentleman might look out of his bedroom window and see her. And what do you suppose he did to her?’
She did not know. But she was sure that she was about to find out.
‘The sight of her made his cock hard.’ He stepped away from her long enough to capture one of the hands that were resting at her sides, pressing it against his breeches.
Then he slipped his hand between her legs, his fingers teasing, stroking her opening with a single fingertip. ‘And then he put it deep inside of her.’ Slowly, his finger slid into her body, just as he described.
The touch left her so weak that she clung to his shirtfront for support. In doing so, her own hands grazed the sides of her naked breasts. The sudden shock of pleasure she felt was nothing like the gentle tingling she’d imagined. She had never known that it was possible to feel so much. Every inch of her skin was awake to him.
As it had been on the night at the club, he had not bothered with cravat or waistcoat. There was only the linen of his shirt separating them. But this time, it was damp from the water that had been on her body and clinging to his chest. She could feel the heat of him and the angry beat of his heart next to her as his finger moved in and out.
Then it was gone, sliding forward, spreading wetness to another, even more sensitive spot. As he toyed with her, he kissed her again, his tongue back in her mouth. She fought against it, wanting to be free to tell him how good this was, to scream in pleasure into the night sky.
But he refused to let her go, as if he would swallow the joy that burst from her as wave after wave of shudders racked her body. Her knees trembled and the place he had touched her throbbed with need for the thing he had promised. When he released her, she fell to her knees before him, no longer able to support her own weight.
He stood quiet, staring down at her for a moment. When he spoke, his words were like a tongue licking her skin. ‘You do not know what you are offering, do you, my sweet? Perhaps some day I will show you. For now, I think I shall have you in a way that is as conventional as you accuse me of being.’
He stripped the shirt over his head and dropped it in the grass beside her nightgown. Then he undid the flap of his breeches and let his manhood spring free.
She stared at it for a moment, dazed by the nearness of it. Then he dropped to his knees as well and pushed her gently backwards, down into the moss of the bank. He straddled her waist and ran his palms down her body to cup her breasts again. He was saying something, but for a moment she could not hear. She was too lost in the feeling of his thumbs pressing against her nipples, drawing slow circles around them, pinching them, almost to the point of pain, and soothing them with feather-light touches.
‘…teased me long enough.’ His words were almost loud enough to overcome the pounding of the blood in her ears. ‘If you mean to cavort naked on the lawn, then do not claim to be surprised by what is about to occur.’
But she was surprised. The last few moments had been full of revelations. She expected the next few moments would be nothing short of miraculous.
He leaned forward to kiss her breasts, taking them into his mouth just as he had drawn her tongue into it when she had tried to cry out. She clutched at his head, twining her fingers in his hair, and gave up to the feeling with a sigh.
Then it occurred to her that she could touch him just as he had touched her. She reached down, searching for the part of him that was straining towards her, circling it with her hands, and sliding up the length of it to cover the wet tip.
‘Dear God!’ He released her breasts and sat straight up as if his entire body had spasmed in shock, just as hers had done earlier.
‘Am I doing this right?’ she asked breathlessly, stroking him again, spreading the wetness down the length of him.
‘Vixen.’ His hands were clutching at the moss as he took a slow sucking breath, as if fighting for control. Then he covered her hands with his own and showed her how to touch him, before reaching out again and covering her breasts, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs. ‘It is right. But it is wrong as well. I want more from you.’ One hand slid between her legs and the fingers settled inside of her, matching the rhythm of her strokes. ‘I want this from you.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, tightening her grip on him, ever so slightly, and increasing the speed of her strokes.
He dipped his head forward and his teeth grazed the side of her neck, just as the stallion had done to the mare. His fingers thrust harder into her, deeper. ‘It will hurt the first time. But not after that.’
Which meant they would do it more than once. At the thought of it, the feeling was taking her again, making her wonder why people did anything but this. ‘Do it,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’
‘Soon,’ he answered, pushing her legs apart with his knees and spreading her wide with his fingers. The last few thrusts with his hand were rough, possessive. Then he seized her hands and pulled them away from him. ‘Touch yourself,’ he ordered, and she had never been so eager to obey.
She clutched her own breasts, squeezing them between her fingers, as he grabbed her hips and entered her with one quick thrust.
It hurt.
She pinched herself as a distraction, surprised to find that she liked the pain. He thrust again. And again. And then, suddenly, he arched his back and seemed to pour himself into her before sagging back, limp.
‘That was all?’ she said, surprised.
‘Because you touched me,’ he said, sounding smug. Then he rolled them so that he was lying under her. ‘Did you finish?’
‘Finish what?’ she asked, breathless.
He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. ‘If you have to ask, then the answer is no. Sit up. I want to see your face when it happens.’ His hands were on her shoulders, pushing her up so she could sit, straddling his body.
She looked down at him, confused by the demand, until he took one of her hands and pressed it to the place where they were still joined, tracing a spot with his own fingers before dragging her knuckles over it.
Oh.
He was right. There was something left unfinished inside her, like a bubble ready to burst.
‘You will be even more beautiful when you come,’ he whispered, moving her own hand against her. ‘And if I am inside you, I can feel the muscles of your body hugging mine.’
‘Oh.’ She’d said it aloud this time, unable to stop the sound.
‘When we make love, I want to know that you have been pleased to the point of exhaustion. It is your right to demand this from me.’
‘Oh,’ she said again, but this time it sounded like a moan. And she did not want to demand, so much as she wanted to beg for him to continue what he was doing.
‘Make me touch you,’ he said, stroking the still-tender place where his
body disappeared into hers. ‘Or touch yourself and let me watch. The sight of your climax will make me hard.’
‘Ah.’ It was as it had been before, but even better. She could not control the shaking of her body, or the sounds coming from her mouth. This was what she had been missing, what she had wanted, all along. And as he had promised, she could feel him again, swelling to fill her.
Slowly, the ecstasy subsided to pleasure, like a banked fire that could spring to life at any moment. In the corner of her eye, a shaft of moonlight revealed the house and its rows of darkened windows where anyone might have been watching. ‘What have we done?’ she said, in a whisper and tried to pull away.
‘What we should have done from the first night,’ he said with a satisfied smile, holding her tight. ‘If I had known it was going to be like this, I’d have let you seduce me ages ago.’
‘I seduced you?’ Since she’d had no idea what she was doing, it seemed unlikely.
‘With every word, every gesture, every look, from the first moment we met,’ he said.
‘We should probably not have done it in the garden, though,’ she said glancing back at the house again.
He laughed softly under her. ‘It is too late to agree with me now.’
‘We had best go inside,’ she said. But if she was honest, she did not want to. The slight movements of his body under hers hinted at things yet to explore.
‘When I have finished with you, Wife,’ he said. He had called her wife with a possessive pleasure that sent another thrill through her body. This was followed by a buck of his hips, as if he was urging her to movement.
‘What if someone sees?’ she said, tightening on him and feeling the beginning of another tremor.
He grabbed her by the waist and rolled until she was stretched out beneath him, receiving another thrust of his hips.
‘Then let them look.’
And then, nothing mattered for quite some time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, George removed a piece of grass from her hair, laying it carefully on the bedside table lined up with others she had found. What would Polly think when she found the sheets damp and littered with leaves?
Probably the same thing Frederick’s valet thought, as his master tried to whistle during his morning shave. The house had gone mad. But quite happily so, George thought, rolling out of the bed and reaching for her nightgown.
Then she laughed. It was quite possible that it was still draped over a bush by the side of the pond. When they had returned to the house, she had been wearing Frederick’s shirt, which had come practically to her knees. He had been bare chested, holding up his breeches with one hand and carrying his boots in the other.
But he had been grinning like a fool, as if it was not the least bit out of character to forget all propriety and make love in the garden.
He stood in her doorway, now, staring at her as her maid dressed her hair. ‘Good morning, Wife.’ He looked very satisfied with himself, as if it was their activity last night that had made her such and not a proper church ceremony.
‘You must call me by my name, if you want to get my attention,’ she said, unable to resist scolding him, if only in play.
‘Georgiana,’ he said, as if the one word was every wonderful thing he could think of in the world.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then added, ‘Frederick.’ It did not seem to have the right tone, to fully convey how she felt, after last night. She tried again. ‘Frederick.’
I love you.
They had not actually said the words to each other as yet. Not even in the heat of passion had that occurred. But by the way he grinned at the sound of it, she was sure he understood.
He blew a kiss to her reflection in the mirror.
Had she really called him a prig last night? Because she could not imagine anything more foolish and fond than the gesture he had just made.
* * *
When they met in the breakfast room, he was still smiling. He rose as she entered, not out of standard courtesy, but for the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek before she sat. Then he returned to his seat, looking both smug and happy. ‘Did you rest well, my dear?’
‘You know I did not,’ she said, trying not to laugh.
‘I suppose this means that we must adjust the terms of our truce,’ he said.
After the previous night, she had forgotten that their arrangement was supposed to be temporary. ‘If you wish to,’ she said, cautiously.
‘It seems foolish for us to only pretend to be happy with each other for the sake of propriety, when we have found at least one thing we both enjoy,’ he said.
What they’d shared had been wonderful. But she wondered if it was enough. ‘There is still much we do not agree on,’ she reminded him.
‘Your capricious nature,’ he said.
‘And your inflexibility,’ she countered.
He sighed and gave a half-hearted nod. ‘I will admit that my rigidity can be a fault. But I believe a higher level of self-control is necessary to prevent myself from giving in to the excesses of which my family is guilty.’
‘You fear you will become like your father or brother?’ She looked at him in surprise. For despite the things she had heard about his past, she saw nothing that led her to believe he was a rake. ‘Do you drink to excess?’
‘Occasionally,’ he admitted. ‘But then, what man does not?’
‘True,’ she agreed. ‘But when you are at your worst, do you feel you are a slave to the bottle?’
‘Not at all.’
‘And have you ever duelled?’
He shook his head.
‘Not even in your youth?’
‘When I give offence, I apologise. And if I am offended? I have seen far too much killing to desire to do harm to someone over a petty slight.’
‘Do you lack moderation in your spending? Are you a dandy? Are you in debt? An intemperate gambler?’
‘No, no, and no,’ he said, and seemed surprised at the ease in the denials.
‘And despite what you fear of me, I am not unchaste or immoderate in dress or diet,’ she said.
‘I never thought you unchaste,’ he said hurriedly.
No. He’d merely thought her foolish. But that might change with time. And for now, she must do her best to prove him wrong.
‘Then what, precisely, are you convinced you need to guard against?’
He paused, as if trying to find the words. ‘Before I joined the army, there was a night where I came close to committing a sin more grave than any done by the rest of my family.’ He paused again. He looked like a man on the verge of confession.
She held up a hand. ‘You do not have to tell me, you know. Whatever it was, it is in the past.’
‘That is true,’ he agreed, though he did not seem to believe it.
‘And very nearly doing something is not the same as doing it,’ she reminded him. ‘Did you join the army to prevent further temptation?’
His silence to this was answer enough.
‘If you have not succumbed to temptation since returning to London, then your character has improved,’ she said. ‘But you have become overly cautious about small infractions because you have been living in fear.’
‘I fear nothing,’ he said without hesitation.
‘No man,’ she agreed. ‘I suspect there is no physical threat you could not face without blinking. But you are afraid of becoming as careless as the rest of your family. If you have not done so by now, despite the opportunities presented at Vitium et Virtus, I think you are probably safe from precipitous changes in character.’
He was staring at her in surprise, as if the idea had never occurred to him that he was not wicked to the core.
She used his silence to press her advantage. �
�While I doubt I will ever be as conventional as you wish for me to be, I promise that I will not intentionally behave in a way that would damage your reputation.’
‘Excellent.’ He agreed almost too quickly. ‘Now that we are in agreement we will live together as ordinary husbands and wives do. Let us have no more talk of separate lives or houses. From now on, we will be happy together.’ He stood up and walked to her side of the table to kiss her on the top of her head, just as she did to Sargent, when he as being particularly good.
* * *
Perhaps living in London had been the problem all along. They should have come to the country right after the wedding. It seemed to Fred that his wife’s behaviour had changed for the better the moment he had suggested the trip.
He had assumed she would be like all other women of his experience, in constant need of social stimulation. But it seemed she would rather be in the garden or galloping in the woods, than parading on Rotten Row, or bundling herbs in the still room instead of shopping for ribbons.
But if he was honest, he felt the same. He thanked God often that he had not been saddled with a seat in Parliament, talking about doing things rather than picking up a sword and wading into battle. Nor was he eager to take on the minutiae of bookkeeping at Vitium et Virtus as Jake had done.
She had pleased him in other ways as well. He had assumed there would be difficulties because of her youth and inexperience, but she ran the house as efficiently as an army quartermaster. She had no trouble understanding what was expected of her and was quick to learn any skills that she lacked.
And in one aspect of marriage, they suited perfectly. Since the night by the pond, she had risen from his bed each morning, hair tousled by the vigour of their lovemaking, throat reddened by the force of his kisses. This morning, she’d cast a look at him over her shoulder as if daring him to take her again.
And he had. He had scrambled from the bed, grabbed her by the waist, and dragged her back to the mattress, entering her and spending like a green boy on his first time. Rather than being shocked at the briefness of the encounter, she had laughed at him, trailing a finger down his chest and teasing herself to orgasm. Then she had taken him in hand and brought him back to life so they might begin again, but slower.
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 18