Veil of Honor

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Bridget did not notice the first sag of her dress. It wasn’t until cool air rushed in to fan her back that she realized the dress was hanging loose from her shoulders.

  Will’s mouth was still against hers and she gasped into it as he slid his hands inside her dress, up to stroke the bare skin above her camisole. A shiver went through her.

  “Soft,” he breathed. “Lovely.” He straightened and unwound her arms from his neck. “Stand still,” he told her and bent to pick up the front hem of her dress. He pulled the entire dress over her head and tossed it toward the dressing panel. She heard it flutter and the muffled impact as it hit the floor.

  She shivered, her arms now bare.

  Will’s mouth turned up in a little smile as he bent once more. This time his lips pressed against her chin. They moved, softly stroking her chin, then her throat. She found she was lifting her chin to give him access.

  He glided his lips down her throat and over the flesh of her chest, to the soft upper slope of her breasts.

  She gasped as his lips lingered there and his tongue stroke hotly over the flesh.

  Her hoops and petticoats dropped to the floor in a tired heap of cotton and bone. He had unfastened the ties while he kissed her.

  “That’s better,” he muttered and pulled her against him once more. The strength in his arm lifted her off her feet. She gasped and clung to him as he stepped over the petticoats and carried her around to the side of the bed. Her heart thundered as he lowered her back to her feet.

  “Kick off your shoes,” he told her.

  She bent and tugged the laces undone, then slid her feet out of them. She felt no shyness now, not like with Taplow… She cut the thought off hastily. Will was right. She would not let that man intrude here.

  Will fitted his hands around her waist, his thumbs stroking restlessly over the corset. He pulled her closer and pressed his mouth to her flesh once more.

  Bridget found her head was rolling back, her eyes closing by themselves, as she reveled in the sensations Will was imparting. This was so good. Far better than anything she had experienced until now.

  Her body was aching. Pounding with urgency. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive. A point between her legs drew the sensations from every inch of her body and concentrated them there.

  She clutched at Will’s head, to keep her balance and to encourage him to continue. With a little shock she realized she was trying to direct him downward, to the points of her breasts, which were still shielded by corsetry and cotton.

  “Please…” she begged, uncertain what she pleaded for. Her voice was not her own.

  Will groaned. He straightened up, breathing hard. His eyes were sleeping, half-hooded, the blue glittering in the light of the bedside lamps. He gripped the top of her corset, his fingers sliding beneath so the back of them brushed her breasts. She gasped.

  He tugged the hooks undone with a twist of his wrists, working quickly down the length of the corset. It dropped away from her and he let it fall, his gaze on her figure. She stood in stockings and pantalets and camisole. She shivered, feeling more naked than she would be with no clothes, for Will’s gaze seemed to burn right through her underthings.

  Her breasts, unfettered now, rubbed against her camisole. The tips were tight, hard nubs that strained the cotton.

  Will lifted his hand toward her breasts and she caught her breath, eager for his touch.

  Then he dropped his hand. “No, no simple groping will do…” he muttered and tugged at the ribbon at the top of her camisole, instead. He fumbled with the tiny buttons. A rip of thread sounded and two of the little pearl buttons fell to the floor with soft taps.

  Then, with a groan that was filled with impatience, he gripped the open sides of the camisole and tore the rest of the buttons open. Buttons bounced off the floor and went rolling.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” Will promised, his voice strained. He yanked the camisole from her shoulders, then her pantalets. “Leave the stockings on,” he growled, straightening. He brought his hands up to plunge them into her hair. With rough movements, he pulled the pins and tossed them behind him until there were none left. Her hair dropped onto her shoulders, yet he still played with it, his fingers tangling with the locks. “So long…” he breathed. “So silky.” He stepped back and studied her.

  Bridget made herself stand still, even though her breath would not calm, and her chest rose and fell quickly, her breasts lifting with each inhalation. She was naked, except for the stockings. By rights she should be mortified to have Will study her as if she was a specimen.

  Only, the heated look in his eyes as he stared made her want to moan and beg him to take her. She lifted her chin, letting him look if it pleased him to do so.

  “You are lovelier than any man could deserve,” Will said. His voice was strained. “Far more than I deserve, for sure.” He reached out and settled his hands about her waist once more and the touch of his flesh against hers sent a delightful ripple through her. “Nothing you let the world see would prepare one for the truth beneath.”

  “Please, Will…” she whispered, for his touch was torture. His hands were not where she wanted them to be, although she was not entirely certain where she did want them. The ripple was growing, making her tremble. She locked her knees, to stay standing.

  Will let her go and she did moan.

  He smiled knowingly and shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside. His gaze met hers and held it as he removed the rest of his clothes one garment at a time. Bridget couldn’t shift her gaze from his eyes, until she saw the gleam of the flesh of his shoulders. Her gaze drifted downwards as the rest of his body emerged.

  Will’s body was as strong in appearance as it was in practice. He was an outdoorsman who liked to walk and ride and shoot. He played cricket and was the only person in the family beside Jack who dared swim in the towering waves off the coast of Innesford.

  His shoulders were wide and rounded with muscles as were his arms. His chest was sprinkled with fine hair…blond just like his head. His stomach was flat but tightened as she looked at it.

  Bridget made herself look lower, to the proud flesh jutting from his powerful thighs. The shaft was a deep red color and throbbed, like her own body. She swallowed.

  Will picked her up by her waist and put her on the bed. Then he settled on the cover in front of her, on his knees. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her, his voice low.

  “I’m not,” she said truthfully.

  “You can explore, too, you know.”

  She looked at him, startled.

  Will picked up her hand and brought it to his shaft. “I can see by your expression that you want to. Go on.”

  Bridget curled her fingers around the shaft. They didn’t reach all the way around. She was astonished by the heat and softness of it. It made her want to slide her fingers along, to stroke it.

  Will hissed, the sound shuddering through his lips and she let go quickly, her heart skipping.

  He laughed. “That is not displeasure you heard. For now, though, that is as much as I can bear.” He laid her on the cover and settled beside her.

  Bridget’s heart leapt again. Her anticipation held no pleasure. Will must have sensed her wariness for he touched her lips with his finger. “Relax,” he whispered and dipped his head.

  His lips closed around the tip of her breast and she cried out at the suddenness of it and the sheer, unexpected glory of it, too. Her body sizzled in response, flames tearing through her limbs. The heat focused upon the juncture of her thighs. The ache there made her shift restlessly on the bed. Her thighs fell open. Her eyes closed, and she moaned. It was delicious.

  Will shifted his mouth to the other breast, making her gasp once more, while his hand settled on her belly, his fingers resting close to there. His hand moved restlessly, stealing all her attention, despite what he was doing to her breast.

  Her fleshy folds almost burned with the pleasure flowing into them.

  Then, shockingly, d
elightfully, Will pushed his fingers between her folds, right up against the heart of her. She cried out, astonished at the blinding, silver pleasure of his touch. She clutched at him, not sure if she was warding him off, or encouraging him. Her body arched off the bed.

  Will lifted his head to look at her, a pleased expression playing on his face. “Oh, you do like it, don’t you?” He moved his fingers, stroking the tiny nub.

  She battered her fists against his shoulders as her breath squeezed from her and her pleasure climbed. She couldn’t lie still. Her hips lifted and low, harsh moans emerged from her lips. Will’s lips brushed her chest, her breasts and her throat with butterfly touches compared to what his hand was doing to her body.

  The tension built and built, straining her limbs and her throat. She could barely breathe. It came in shallow little pants.

  Then the pleasure, which she did not think could possibly climb any higher, seem to break over her like a wave, silvered and keen, with every nerve in her body exploding with it.

  Oh, it was sweeter than life itself!

  Then the peak of the sensation subsided, leaving her trembling and panting. Will didn’t wait. He rolled so he laid over her, propping himself up with one arm so he did not crush her.

  He drew her knee out as his hips settled between her thighs and dimly, through her still-tingling delight, Bridget recognized this moment. She spread her other knee instinctively. The tip of his thick shaft pressed her innermost cleft. He eased inside her, a bit at a time. Even though she was no longer a maid, she appreciated his caution, for her unaccustomed muscles were stretched around him.

  Yet she felt no pain. No discomfort. If anything, the heat and thickness of him spreading her flesh was pleasurable, even moving. It eased a gap in her she had not realized was there. She felt…fulfilled.

  When he was deep inside her, Will grew still. His gaze met hers.

  “Oh…!” she whispered. “Oh, Will…” No other words would come to her.

  He moved against her. His shaft withdrew, then pushed back in. She gasped and clutched at him.

  Will picked up her knee and lifted her stocking-covered calf onto his hip. “It will feel better, this way.”

  She raised her other leg to match and it did feel better. He settled into her, deeper than before. That was good, too.

  Will thrust, moving slowly. His eyes were nearly closed. The tendons of his neck worked as he moved against her.

  It was glorious having him move inside her. Bridget lifted her hips, welcoming him. He groaned. “God above…!” He closed his eyes, his face strained, as he worked. She could see the glimmer of sweat at his temples as he worked. His muscles bunched and rounded.

  His thrusting hastened and so did his breath. He pounded into her and Bridget caught her breath as her pleasure flared once more. It was a deeper thrumming this time, coming from the pit of her stomach. It climbed as swiftly as before.

  Her pinnacle of pleasure hovered just out of reach, as Will grew taut, shuddering. Even his breath stopped. His shaft throbbed inside her.

  With a groan Will relaxed, his tension falling away. His head dropped to touch hers and he sagged, although his trembling arms kept him from squashing her completely.

  He breathed heavily, matching her own panting. The heat pooled between them, thick and beating.

  “Christ above,” Will breathed and fell on the bed. He rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling. His shaft glistened with wetness and still jutted proudly.

  He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it with a gusty sigh, then closed his eyes.

  “What you felt just then…” Bridget whispered. “I almost felt it again. A second time.”

  Will turned his head and cracked open one eye. “That won’t do,” he said. “Almost is not nearly good enough.” He turned her onto her side and shifted onto his, then arranged her limbs, so that one knee was over his hip, spreading her open.

  Her heart leapt as he grasped her hip and drew her lower body up against his. His gaze met hers again. “Twice and thrice, for good measure,” he said and pushed into her once more.

  * * * * *

  The fourth time she came, Bridget screamed. The pleasure was too overwhelming, too sweet, to try to smother the sounds she made. Will held her as she shook, his lips against her temples.

  “Good?” he breathed.

  “So good, Will!” Her voice was strained, virtually unrecognizable.

  He lifted her and turned her over, so she was on her hands and knees. His hands gripped her hips as he thrust into her from behind. Astonished, Bridget gripped the counterpane, her fingers digging in, as Will worked himself inside her, deeper than ever.

  He cupped her breast, squeezing the tip, then slid his fingers between her thighs to nestle against the nub, stroking her with each thrust of his pelvis.

  Bridget did not think she could possibly experience any more pleasure, yet her body flared and the thrill built once more. She closed her eyes, a slave to it, willing to work for the pinnacle over and over, as many times as she could.

  How had she lived in such ignorance for so long? If only she had known…

  * * * * *

  Bridget had no idea what time it was when Will tucked her up against him, her back against his chest, his hand under her breast. He drew the covers over them and kissed her temple. “Sleep,” he whispered.

  She needed no further encouragement. Her body ached pleasantly and her limbs were heavy. She fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by sun streaming through the lace at the window. Dust motes floated in the beams, while Will’s thumb and finger squeezed and rolled her nipple and his shaft, beating and swollen, pushed into her from behind.

  He was indefatigable.

  Delighted, Bridget arched and spread herself, her nub swelling and throbbing. Eagerly, she welcomed him into her, her breath already growing short.

  “The heat of you…” he muttered, as he came to rest inside her. “I have spent my life hoping to find a woman like you. I thought she was a myth. Yet there you were, all the time.” He held her as his hips thrust and his mouth drifted over her neck and shoulder.

  Bridget sighed, as her pleasure spiraled. If this was what marriage was like, she knew she would be contented for the rest of her life.

  Chapter Six

  The family’s reaction to their marriage was muted, which surprised Bridget yet did not seem to shock Will at all.

  It took three days for them to emerge from the hotel. In that time, the wires Will had sent to the various houses and estates to inform everyone of the wedding would have been received.

  No word returned, although for those three days they were too busy to care.

  It was an inconvenience to dress merely to eat, no matter how hungry they were. Instead, Will paid to have meals delivered by tray to their door. They ate sitting upon the rumpled bed, wolfing their food down so they could remove the trays and return to the delightful exercise of getting to know each other properly.

  Those three days were exactly as Bridget had thought her time with Taplow would be like. Days and nights without interruption, to talk in between the sweet times, to explore and to bond.

  Will was inventive and inexhaustible. She liked that he was worldly and experienced. His experience gave him the knowledge to ensure she enjoyed herself in many varied ways.

  His experience stretched beyond actions, too. As her fingers and mouth explored, Will give her anatomy lessons, giving parts of his and her body names she had never heard before.

  “They’re Anglo-Saxon names, not Latin ones,” Will told her. “Latin is for doctors and academics and I am neither.” He pressed her into the pillow, smiling. He stroked her breast with his tongue. “Breast…mmm…areola…and nipple…” She gasped and grasped his head, not afraid now to hold it steady or direct him as it pleased her.

  They were three days taken out of time. Nothing disturbed them, none of their normal concerns impinged upon them.

  On the third afternoon, W
ill sat with his arm resting on his bent knee and rested his chin on his elbow, frowning.

  “What is it?” she asked, moving around to check his eyes. She had learned to watch his eyes. He could keep his face expressionless, yet his eyes told her everything.

  “There is a six o’clock train to Southampton,” he said.

  Disappointment touched her. “You think we should go home?”

  “I think we should present ourselves at Marblethorpe,” he said. “Although that is not your home anymore.”

  She bit her lip and plucked at a fold of the crumpled counterpane rammed between the mattress and the footboard by their activities. “I’m sorry. I forgot…”

  Will lifted her chin and shook his head. “Neither of us has had time to adjust. We didn’t give anyone else time to absorb the news, either. Now, though, they’ve had three days. We should at least present ourselves to your mother and Raymond and get that over with.”

  “You think they will be angry.”

  Will smiled. “Raymond might rage about haste and repentance and propriety. He was always big on appearances. It is your mother’s disappointment at missing the wedding I don’t look forward to seeing.”

  Bridget bit her lip again.

  “If we had paused long enough for everyone to arrange to be in the same chapel at the same time, we’d have waited for over a year,” Will said. “We couldn’t afford to wait that long, so the family must remain disappointed about it. When we’re settled, we can host a grand formal dinner party and invite everyone to that, to make up for the lack.”

  “At Farleigh Manor?” Bridget asked, recalling the cold, damp Hertfordshire house. That would be her home, now.

  “Good God, no,” Will said heartily. “At Kirkaldy, of course.”

  “Will, your father loves Kirkaldy. Would he give it up for you to live there?”