by Em Taylor
While he enjoyed conversing with Kathleen and the Duchess on his other side about rather mundane topics, he half-wished that Lady Beattie had placed Kathleen and him on opposite sides of the table. Then the temptation to touch her would not be constant. Had he not consummated the marriage the day before, then he would have been less aware of the delights of her body. Oh of course, as a man he wanted her. Who would not? She was beautiful, had a wonderful figure, a glorious, sunny smile and glowing, peachy skin. It was why gentlemen took second looks at her. Well, he knew it was her décolletage they took second glances at. He was no fool.
He glanced at it now and felt himself harden. Devil take it.
“You are wool-gathering, my lord,” Kathleen whispered into his ear as she laid her hand on his silk evening breeches that Stalwood had brought for him to change into.
“I am thinking about you.”
“What are you thinking about specifically?”
He glanced at the Duchess, who was deep in conversation with her husband. He moved her hand up his breeches so that, for the briefest moment she touched his hard length through the material. Her eyes widened.
“I am thinking about how I would like to use that on you.”
“My lord.”
He gave her a crooked smile.
“Do not ask questions, if you do not want a truthful answer.”
“You are leading me astray, my lord.”
“One can only hope.”
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room for tea while the gentlemen remained in the dining room for port and cheroots.
“You realise my wife has prepared bedchambers for you both,” Beattie said, pointing his lit cheroot at Stalwood and Gabriel.
“Why the devil did she do that?” Stalwood asked, laying his port on the table and sitting back.
“My wife is an incurable romantic. Especially in the matter of Cindermaine here. Every time he and his situation comes up in conversation, her eyes become distinctly watery and she gives me a look that implores me to ameliorate the situation. As if I, a lowly viscount, have any power over a duke.”
“I am receiving similar reproving looks from my wife,” put in Kirkbourne. “And I am a duke, but what can I do?”
“Interesting as these tales of your wives are, what have they to do with the bedchambers being prepared?” asked Gabriel, still perplexed.
“Oh! Well, Emily is devastated that your wedding night did not happen, or rather it happened in an afternoon in an inn. She bemoans that it is desperately unromantic and that you should have a comfortable bed in a townhouse in Mayfair.”
“This townhouse?”
“Indeed.”
“When?”
“After dinner.”
“So when you and Kirkbourne are entertaining your wives and… what? Playing cards? Stalwood and I would be in your guest bedchambers tumbling our wives.”
Beattie sighed and took a swig from his port. “I did not say it was one of her better ideas. I tried to talk her out of it.”
“Can we just remember that Lady Stalwood is my sister and I have no desire to be in the bedchamber next to hers when Stalwood has her invoking the name of our saviour and lord. I shared a womb with the creature and have no wish to share anything more intimate with her.”
“I am sure the feeling is mutual on her part,” muttered Stalwood.
“No doubt.”
Kirkbourne looked at Gabriel as he drew on his cheroot. “Tell me, Cindermaine, after the Christmas Season is past and Prinny returns to London, would you be annoyed at me if I spoke to him on your behalf?”
“And said what?”
“To be honest, at present, I do not know. I wonder if he could give you your own title, separate from that of the Hartsmere Dukedom, that can merge with the Hartsmere title when you succeed to it. I have no idea if it can be done or ever has been and doubt very much if Prinny will know, but the man is a real bleeding heart with a truly romantic soul, rather like my wife but with a cock and ballocks. If there is a way to do it, your rather sad story is sure to tug at his heartstrings.”
Gabriel screwed up his nose. “I do not want his pity.”
“Oh, my dear fellow, we all have his pity. I have his pity because I am not a prince and therefore, in his eyes, not as lucky as he. Of course, I would not wish his life for all the tea in China. I am more than happy with my lot in life and understand that when the die was cast in life, I was one of the fortunate ones. You should have been one of the fortunate ones, but your sire is an arse.”
“You say that, Kirkbourne, but you only take my word for it.”
“I have had dealings with Hartsmere in the past and I see the state of his elder bye blow. I do not know Godfrey, if I am honest. But when I have come across him he seems slightly more amenable than his brother.”
“He is. He took me to buy clothing the day that the Duke decided I should impersonate Cedric at the ball for his betrothal. While in the Duke’s study, he was ridiculous, but once alone in the carriage to Bond Street, he was pleasant, asking me to do my impersonation of Cedric which he found hilarious. He has even started wearing buckskin breeches and silk evening knee breeches instead of inexpressibles.”
“He asked me the other day if I would mind awfully becoming his friend,” said Stalwood.
Gabriel turned to his Stalwood. “Really?”
“Indeed. I said I would be honoured but perhaps we should keep it to ourselves just now until things settle with Cedric’s marriage. Just in case Miss Roberts works things out.”
“That was clever of you,” said Beattie.
“Well, if I were truly honest, I am not opposed to being the lad’s friend. He is Christina’s half-sibling. And he shows promise of being a decent human being, unlike Cedric. Christina thinks he is afraid of Cedric and the Duke and is praying for the day the Duke pops off this mortal coil and leaves him the hell alone. She says he is sometimes nice to her and occasionally seeks out her company when no one else is in the house.”
“She has never said anything to me about it,” Gabriel said, frowning.
“I believe she still considers him the enemy and worries you shall think she is disloyal to you. You know she thinks the world of you Gabe and would walk across fire for you, do you not?”
“As I would for her. I could never think Christina disloyal. She can be a silly goose.”
“Well, for so long, she was your only ally in the aristocracy. She knew you had good friends among the staff, but it was a heavy burden. It is part of the reason she did not try harder to find a husband.”
“Well, it is all coming out now, is it not?” mused Gabriel. “We should sell this story to a playwright and let them make it into a drawing room farce to be shown at Drury Lane. Though it is all so far-fetched, I am not sure anyone would believe it. Perhaps it could be made into one of those gothic novels that Christina is so keen on.”
“Byron could write poetry about you,” put in Kirkbourne, chuckling.
“Do not mention bloody Byron. I have had enough questions about that man to last a lifetime.” Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Did you tell your wife why he is in exile?” Gabriel asked, looking at Beattie.
“I had to. Before we wed, I said I would tell her once she was no longer an innocent, thinking it meant she would forget. Of course, the horses had turned onto the highway from her brother’s estate but I doubt the carriage even had when she was demanding I explain. So I did.”
“Devil take it. Do you think all the married ladies in the ton know why he was exiled?”
“Probably. They’re such gossips. Unless their husbands are such prudes, they shall not tell them.”
“Well, I can only hope your wife explains it to mine, thus relieving me of the duty,” said Gabriel.
Beattie chuckled. “I swore her to secrecy. You married her. She is your responsibility now. Even if only to explain salacious gossip to her.” Gabriel grimaced.
“At least once Christmas Day is o
ver, I shall have other more pleasant marital tasks to perform.”
“The bedchambers are at your disposal,” said Beattie, waggling an eyebrow. Gabriel made a rude gesture at his friend and they all laughed. He lifted his port but glanced around his friends before taking a drink. This should have been his life long before now instead of avoiding drunken bar brawls in taverns in St Giles. His birthright had been all but stolen because of something he had done as a small child. Resentment roiled in his belly. Resentment towards his sire, his half-brothers, his sire’s mistress and yes, even towards his mother for her selfish actions. For leaving two five-year-old children to the wrath of the monster that was the Duke of Hartsmere.
“He’s wool-gathering. I suspect he has that bedchamber in mind, Beattie.” It was Stalwood. Gabriel smiled and forced a chuckle. Better they think he was thinking of tumbling his pretty wife than they know of the dark and brooding turn his thoughts had taken.
Nothing more was said about the bedchambers and Gabriel was glad of it. Tempting though it was, he found it all rather gauche. He did not want everyone to think he was so desperate for sex, he would remove his wife from company to take her to bed, even if it was exactly what he wanted to do.
At the end of the evening, he changed back into his servant’s clothes and climbed atop Stalwood’s carriage with the driver. Stalwood handed the ladies inside the carriage and Gabriel tipped his cap to Beattie who had come out onto the street as the carriage took off.
Gabriel was surprised then when, as they arrived at Kathleen’s house, the driver steered the horses around towards the mews. When the coach stopped Stalwood helped Kathleen out then gestured him down. He jumped off the box and raised an eyebrow at his friend.
“Lady Cindermaine wanted time in private with you.”
“I see.”
“I can go in the back door. I shall think of a suitable excuse. Perhaps we can rip my gown or something.”
“You want me to rip your gown.”
“It would be a good excuse, would it not?”
“Maybe.”
“Come into the garden. Lord Stalwood, as ever, thank you.”
He bowed his head to her. “Lady Cindermaine, the pleasure is all mine. Cindermaine.” He bowed his head and Gabriel bowed back too.
“Stalwood.” This felt terribly stuffy. “Myles. Thank you.”
Myles grinned. “You know where I am, Gabe.”
“I do.”
“Is that not what you say to me,” said Kathleen, giggling.
“I believe, I already have, my love.”
She led him in the gate and as soon as it was shut, she led him a little way up the dark path before she turned and cupped his face kissing him. He could do nothing but wrap his arms around her and kiss her back. Despite the cold, he was immediately aroused, especially when his pretty little wife unfastened the buttons of his breeches and began to stroke him.
“Kathleen. What are you doing?” he asked as he unfastened the top button of her pelisse, trying to find some skin that he could kiss.
“Emily wanted us to use one of her bedchambers but it felt… wrong. But Gabriel, I know you do not want to do it the way your… the Duke did it but it is me and I l… care for you. It is not wrong. Please. I can brace my hands on the bench there.”
“It is wrong to do it in our friend’s bedchamber but it is fine for me to tup you like an animal in your back garden in the freezing cold? Kathleen!”
“That is why you must hurry. I was thinking about it this afternoon. That is why I asked Lord Stalwood to have the carriage brought round to the mews. It was also why I am so wet where you… where we… well, I keep thinking about it and it is very invigorating.”
“Oh God. Are you telling me you are aroused, Kathleen?”
“I… I… believe I am.” He found the skin on her neck and pressed his lips to it. Kathleen sighed and gripped his cock harder.
“If you end up with an ague, it is entirely your own fault,” he argued without conviction. Why was he even contemplating this? It was freezing.
“Please Gabriel. It is so very hard being married and yet not being with you.”
“It is certainly hard, my love. Devil take it but I have no self-control with you.”
He whirled her around towards the bench, placed her hands on it and lifted her skirts and pelisse. He moved his fingers around the hem of the skirt until he found the seam then grasped it in both hands. It took a few tries because the garment was so well made but eventually the seam gave and he ripped a large tear in the garment.
he needed to be quick. It was far too cold for this type of activity and he was a brute for letting her talk him into it. He took his cock in hand and rubbed it through her wet folds. He had not been exaggerating. She was wet. She moaned quietly, and he realised she was very aroused. He pushed into her and when he was halfway in, she pushed back, impaling herself on him. She was so eager and needed no tutoring. Every movement came naturally to her.
He moved one hand around her hips so that he could tease her pearl as he thrust into her hard and fast, hoping the friction would bring her to orgasm quickly.
When she rested her head on her forearm on the bench, he was ready to stop, but her moan of “Gabriel, that is so good,” spurred him on. And when her other hand moved over his to urge him to increase the pressure on her nub, Gabriel thought he might release before her, right there, like a callow youth.
“Move your legs together, Kathleen,” he said, and she obeyed, increasing the friction and changing the angle. She threw back her head on a moan of pleasure. “Let go, my love,” he urged as he increased his pace. He was anything but cold now. His release was imminent. He was just losing his rhythm when his wife’s body pulsed around his cock.
“Oh my. Oh Gabe. Oh! Oh help. Oh my.”
He grabbed for the bench back as he drove into her, releasing his seed in what felt like an unending stream. The waves of pleasure almost turning him mindless. He did, however, have the presence of mind to grab Kathleen around the waist and keep her upright.
As he came back to himself her stood with Kathleen plastered against his body. They were already separated. She turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around him as if he was a piece of driftwood she was clinging to in a stormy sea.
“I should have withdrawn from your body to release my seed. I am sorry,” was all he could manage.
“No, I like the feel of it.”
“I have a handkerchief to clean the worst of it.”
“I shall be going straight to my bedchamber.”
“You need to get inside, Kathleen. It is far too cold.”
“Do I get a goodnight kiss.”
“Indeed you do.”
He bent his head and put every ounce of passion and feeling into the kiss. This woman had become his driftwood, and he did not like the fact he had to be separated from her anymore. And it had little to do with sex, though that was indeed extremely pleasant. But he feared what might happen if the Duke and Cedric found out their secret before they were ready.
Chapter 16
When a note arrived for Kathleen the next day, she was sitting in the parlour reading. The butler entered the room with the piece of paper on a silver salver. She thanked him and opened it, wondering who it could be from.
My Dearest Miss Roberts,
Thank you for being my dinner companion last evening. The night took an interesting turn right at the end. It was most enjoyable. While I should very much like to repeat the experience, I fear it is not wise given the weather. However, since I am unable to see you today or this evening, I shall be where the event happened last evening at midnight tonight, should you wish to attend a short meeting.
Please destroy this note immediately so that it is not found. Your fiancé is expected at the same entertainment as you this evening. Please take care. I only wish to check that you are well and see it with my own eyes.
Your ever.
GM
He would be at the bench at midni
ght. She would most definitely be there. Kathleen knew he was concerned for her safety given Cedric’s behaviour the other night, but she had spoken to Emily, Sarah and Christina and they had arranged to all go to the same events during the run-up to Christmas day. She would stay close to her friends to avoid being alone with Cedric and prevent any nasty moments from happening.
When she arrived at the Langley ball, she sat down beside the Duchess. She had decided that dancing would not be on her itinerary this evening. However, The Duke, Lord Beattie and Lord Stalwood all added their names to her dance card. That, of course, was fine. When Cedric approached her to ask for a dance, she put him after the others. The Duke was the third gentleman on her card and when he came over with lemonade for her and his wife she spoke to him.
“Your Grace, I do beg your pardon, but at the end of our dance, would you mind awfully if I feign a turned ankle and you have to help me off the dance floor?”
“Trying to avoid someone?”
She grimaced. “Cedric wants to dance.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll be more than happy to oblige. Otherwise, I am happy to punch him in the face for you. Either would suffice.”
Kathleen bit back a laugh. “No, Your Grace. A turned ankle shall be sufficient to deter him. A half hour in his company is more than I can bear.”
“Well, I must consider myself honoured then that you shall wait until the end of the dance before you turn your ankle.”
“Oh Nate, stop teasing the poor girl,” put in Sarah. “You know fine you are a handsome, charming devil.
He raised an eyebrow at his wife.
“I recall you calling me a beast earlier.”
“Well, you can be that too. You can be somewhat overbearing at times. It is that aristocratic air you have about you.”
“I cannot help it if I was raised an aristocrat.”