"You are a very bad girl," he muttered as he rolled her over to her belly, peppering her backside with gentle slaps as she laughed and arched her back to thrust her bottom into his hand. "But I find I am unable to resist you."
He positioned himself behind her and they both groaned in pleasure when he thrust inside. He fisted a large handful of her hair, using it as a leash to hold her still for his possession.
Their love was gloriously messy. The little death reached her when he bent over her and pinched her nubbin, rubbing it furiously to ease the sting. And once again when he swelled inside her and bathed her channel with his seed.
He collapsed on top of her, driving her into the bedding with his weight before rolling over to gather her into his arms as he panted.
"I believe I could grow to love you, Richard."
He sighed happily, pulling her closer in the circle of his arms. "I love the sound of my name on your sweet lips. It is my hope that you will join me in that blessed state very soon."
She blinked in surprise. "You— you love me?"
"How could I not? You are my brave and fierce countess." He dropped sweet kisses on her face, as he pulled her flush against his body.
She allowed his embrace as she considered her answer. Her ill considered words had hurt him, and she refused to speak without thinking. “We did not have an auspicious beginning, Richard.” She went silent when his arms clenched around her. “I expected distance between us, perhaps. You bought me, without asking my wishes as if I were a horse you bought at auction.”
“I am sorry for that.” His lips touched the back of her neck.
“No, it isn’t your fault.” Turning to face him, she took his face in her hands. “I think every little girl dreams of a grand love, except me. I always thought it was a fairy tale, but now…” She kissed his nose and smiled as she touched her forehead to his. “Even when you were under the spell, I saw glimpses of what might be. I would very much like to fall in love with you. You’re quite charming when you aren’t suffering from undue influence.”
"Thank God," he breathed, taking her lips in a kiss that made her needy all over again.
She wrapped her leg around his hip, pressing her core against him. He laughed and slapped her thigh.
"Imp. I'm afraid you've worn me out. We'll both have to rest." He patted her hip, his fingers tracing the brand as he growled. "I hate this thing. I want it to be gone."
"I don't." She felt him stiffen but would not recant the words.
"Dear heavens, Elizabeth! Why would you say such a thing?"
"Because I think that is the moment you thought more of me than you did for yourself or her. It is the moment I realized I am strong. Stronger than her, stronger than I ever thought I could be."
She rolled onto her back, but reached for his hand and brought it to her lips. "I met a man once, years ago. He'd been grievously wounded in the Transvaal War and was missing an eye. He wore a patch, of course, yet his face was a mass of scars."
Stroking his fingers, kissing them one by one, she continued. "He was the most— arresting man I've ever met. I would have loved to make his acquaintance, but he had no interest in the mousy little girl I was at the time."
"I can't believe any man would ignore you."
His cheeky smile warmed her heart, and she chuckled, tapping his chest. "Flatterer. I was an unfortunate child," she murmured. "Impoverished, really, and awkward. He was always sought by the most beautiful girls, and I had no hope of garnering his attentions." She nestled her face to his chest.
"He was astonishing to me because he was more than the sum of his disability. He didn't let his infirmity or scars define him, but rather, defined them." She chuckled. "Like all the other girls of that set, I was half in love with the man, and we'd never exchanged a single word.
"I want to be like him, though I don't even recall his name." She shrugged, her shoulders twitching against the bedding. "Though now, I believe I could meet him and not be so awkward."
"You describe Duke St. Clair. Red hair, quite tall?"
"Do you know him?"
"I shall give you a proper introduction when I next attend Parliament. I believe you would quite enjoy his wife. She's much like you." He kissed her forehead. "She's an imp and rather scandalous. I hear," he whispered, "that she even rides a massive black stallion most inappropriately astride."
She sighed happily, her eyes drifting closed. "Do you understand why I don't wish the brand gone?"
"Yes, I believe I do. Sleep, beloved."
Chapter 17
Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes in the hope of pulling out an eel.
Leonardo da Vinci
Elizabeth squeaked as a large hand reached over her shoulder. Dust rose from the tome she’d been reading as her husband shut it. “Richard! I wasn’t finished!”
“Yes, you are, darling.” Pulling out his pocket watch, he showed her the time. “Did you forget your promise again?”
Sighing, Elizabeth stood and wiped the dust from her hands with a handkerchief. “No, my lord. Two hours of rest when the day is hottest.”
“Good girl.” Leaning down, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “If you like, I will have someone copy the book for you and send it to Bartholomew Manor.”
“Thank you. That is most generous.” Elizabeth let him take her arm and escort her from the museum, stopping only to let her to thank the kindly curator who had allowed her access to some of Greece’s most treasured artifacts. It still astonished her that Richard had arranged their holiday, going so far as to give a large donation to the museum in exchange for her ability to study.
Trying to keep to the shade, they made their way back to their hotel. Athens in the summer was beastly hot, and she didn’t complain about the enforced rest. Her rapidly growing children took much of her energy, and she tired quickly.
“What are we doing tonight?”
Smirking, he pulled her closer, caressing her hip. “A late supper, then dancing until your feet are so tired I must carry you back to our hotel.”
“I’m a bit hungry now. May we stop?”
Laughing outright, he detoured to a small shop and bought her luncheon filled with the most delicious of delicacies, both sweet and savory. She ate with her fingers, giggling when he tried to steal a bite or two from the large tray. She took a sip of strong, sweet tea and yawned.
“I beg your pardon!” She covered her mouth, her face heating at Richard’s amused smile.
“Come along, imp. It’s past time for your nap.”
“I must confess, I do not begrudge the extra sleep.” Laying a hand on his arm, she leaned forward to stare into his bright blue eyes, so warm and filled with good cheer. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“To this shop?”
Laughing, she pinched his arm. “No! To Greece. I’ve always wanted to come here. How did you know?”
“Observation, Elizabeth. Simple observation. I peeked at your bills from Mr. Harding. You’ve ordered quite a number of books about Greece recently.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I confess, I’d planned to take you to Italy. It’s more fashionable, but I thought Greece would please you.”
She had no idea what to say to that, though delight filled her at the thought he’d watched her so closely and cared about her preferences. And just like that, she fell a little more deeply in love with her husband.
“Besides, your knowledge of Greek has been invaluable, and the closest thing you have to Italian is Latin.”
Elizabeth tried to hide her amused grin, but failed.
The next day, they went to the beach. Richard had refused to let her spend one more moment in a room filled with dusty books. Though disappointed, she had to admit his idea had been inspired. It was much too fine a day to waste inside.
She lifted up her skirts, letting the waves tickle her toes. Something caught her eye, and she bent down to examine the object. A tiny starfish curled away from her searching fingertips and she s
miled. So fragile, yet would survive the pounding surf to return to its home in the sea. She nudged it closer to the water and laughed when it disappeared.
Richard wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “We’re returning home tomorrow. Has your holiday pleased you?”
“It has been a most delightful trip, Richard.” Turning in his arms, she lifted her face for a kiss. Touching his lips to hers, he kissed her breathless and laughed when she stumbled against him.
“We will have ample opportunity to travel after you give birth, darling.”
“Yes, and there are many places I want to share with you. Shall we return to the hotel? I believe I would like to rest before supper.” She sent him a wink, letting him know that sleep wasn’t the only thing on her mind.
The next morning, Elizabeth glanced around their suite, sad at leaving, yet happy to return home. They’d had such an enjoyable time here, and she couldn’t wait for their next holiday.
"Do you have everything, beloved?"
She'd had to sit on the last of their cases to allow Richard to fasten the straps. "I believe we have as much as we can carry," she said wryly, knowing she'd shopped far too much.
He laughed and slapped her ample backside. "That doesn't even count the things we've had to ship back to England."
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Richard—"
He turned her around to face him. "Don't apologize. You've taken such joy in this trip. A few bolts of cloth and furniture, and that massive Persian carpet…" He shook his head and chuckled. "I loved watching you shop, knowing that you chose things for our home."
Tickling her chin, he added, "Besides, that lovely carpet is going in my study."
"No! It was meant for the library! I want to go to Marrakesh for our next trip. I'll buy something for your study there."
They continued their good-natured argument all the way down the stairs, neither seeing the malevolent black eyes staring at them as they left the hotel for home.
∞∞∞
Confinement was the devil's construct, yet it had allowed her time to mend fences with her father before she gave birth.
Though they would never be close, she'd agreed to meet with him. Richard hadn't liked the idea and insisted that he be present, yet it had gone surprisingly well. She was glad she'd taken the time to think about it, rather than make a snap judgment to cut him from her life. She'd made far too many of those ill-considered decisions over the past year.
She would not deny him time with his grandchildren, but she rather hoped he would keep his visits to a minimum.
They'd also taken the time to have the lady's chamber gutted and renovated. It bore cheerful yellow paint and white lace curtains now. Two lovely cherry wood cribs rested at right angles to each other in the corner furthest from the window, and fleecy sheepskin rugs warmed the space. A local painter had added a stunning mural of a sailing ship, complete with a rock upon which rested a mermaid. It would be a delightful nursery until the babes were old enough to move into the children's rooms down the hall.
Yet after the work to the nursery and the remainder of the house was complete, she was dreadfully bored! Reading gave her no peace. Her feet swelled and her back hurt when she sat too long.
When she went out to visit the horses, Roland herded her back into the house. Walking in the garden was equally fraught with the perils of well-meaning servants. She waddled and had to use the necessary so often she considered moving her rocking chair into the bathing chamber.
Richard shouted when she tried to negotiate the stairs. And he had many willing spies to carry tales when she did something he didn't approve of.
Turncoats. The lot of them were turncoats. She'd insisted they turn one of the unused pantries into a bathing chamber for the servants. One would think they would have some loyalty for that. Though truthfully, she was glad to have the second commode so she didn't have to manage the stairs so often.
In Richard's defense, she was woefully off balance. The mass of her belly preceded her wherever she went, thrusting forth like a bulwark in a roiling sea. Her back arched against the weight of the babes against her spine as she moved.
She wanted to jump up and down to settle her children into her pelvis so she could push them out and enjoy their company!
It was more than clear that there were two. When Richard laughed and tickled at the fists and feet that distended her belly, her babes wiggled and repositioned themselves in her womb. They wrestled and fought, sibling rivalry in situ within her body as they jostled for dominance, calming only when he sang to them, his tobacco smoke whisper twining around them as it soothed them into slumber.
Despite her discomfort and boredom, there was so much amity in the house, she could almost forget the specter of the witch and her unholy promise to return looming over their heads.
∞∞∞
Leaves browned, fields went fallow, and winter coats on horses thickened in the chill air. Late October in England could be dreadfully unpleasant. She scowled at the weather outside her window and tried to rise from the rocking chair Richard had commissioned for her. With a few good swings, she could develop enough momentum to thrust her massive bulk from the chair without calling for assistance.
She utterly despised the fact that she now knew more about Newtonian physics than she'd ever thought possible or useful. An increasing woman at rest stayed at rest, whether she liked it or not unless acted upon, say, by a maid hauling her from a chair to visit the necessary. An increasing woman in motion tended to stay in motion unless her husband objected, simply because it was too difficult to return to a state of rest.
She bore a disturbing resemblance to a walrus and it was utterly intolerable. She ate almost constantly, and the only things she wanted were strawberries and Mrs. Abernathy's Welsh rarebit. And her pickled pears. Those were lovely. The strawberry preserves had too much sugar and weren't what she craved.
"You still want strawberries, don't you? I'm sorry I haven't found any."
"It's silly, isn't it? Perhaps our next child will be born in late spring." She huffed out a breath. "Of course, then I shall probably demand winter squash."
Richard leaned down to kiss her cheek, lifting her chin up to add one to her lips. "You're being very good about it, though."
"You mustn't lie," she chided softly. "I'm an ill-tempered shrew, I'm fat and puffy, and…" Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. He was being so kind to her, offering to travel to London to search for a hothouse with strawberries when he knew he might not make it back in time for the birth.
How had she gotten so lucky? The beginning of their marriage had been horrible, but she couldn't imagine her life without him now. And she was fat and awful to him! She sniffed back tears once more and tried to smile.
"Are the horses well?"
He stared at her pensively for a moment. "We're going outside for a walk," he said, his firm tone brooking no opposition.
"But—" She glanced down to where she thought her feet might be. "My boots won't fit."
"I have a pair you can borrow." He rummaged in a chest, pulling out a rather worn pair of low boots and wool socks, and then knelt in front of her to put them on her feet.
It disgusted her that they fit, and were damned comfortable, too.
"And—" He turned with a flourish, holding a length of black wool. "I have a cloak and gloves for you as well."
With the assistance of a grinning footman, they got her fat body safely down the stairs and out the door. She breathed the crisp air as if it soothed her parched soul. She loved the scent of fall. It was dry and smelled deliciously of apples and fallen leaves, the dust of harvest, and wood smoke.
She could almost ignore the guards armed with rifles standing sentry around the property. Richard was taking no chances that the witch would return and find them vulnerable. It was not a thought worthy of a good Christian woman, but she wished one of those guards would put a bullet in the witch's head.
To h
er mind, magic stood very little chance against a rifle slug.
Richard let her waddle as far as she wanted. It wasn't so cold that she grew chilled, yet the skies threatened rain, and she knew they couldn't stay out for very long. Still, she would take as much time as he would allow. Even the babes seemed happy with the exercise. She felt them settle lower into her pelvis, preparing themselves for their eventual introduction to the world.
The sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant, though it did put increased pressure on… "Richard, I need to go back to the house."
He grinned and swung her into his arms, his long strides taking them back much faster than she could have made it on her own. "I'd wondered when that would happen."
She settled into his embrace, feeling suddenly tired as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Insufferable man."
"Do you feel better now?"
"I do. Thank you for taking me outside. I think I shall have a nap before supper."
∞∞∞
They'd already set up a birthing bed for her, with a mattress much firmer than her marriage bed. She found it more comfortable on her aching back and had taken to sleeping there, with her husband by her side. She loved that he didn't complain.
She loved him.
It was dark when a painful cramp woke her, but she ignored the pain and turned over. Her belly tightened again, making her gasp in discomfort. Rolling over, she tried to get to her feet, but the effort was too much, and she collapsed against the sheets as another spasm wracked her body.
The fire burned low. It hadn't been tended in some time, and she wished it was brighter so she could see. "Richard?" she called. Yet her voice was weak and no one came.
"Richard!" Her breathless scream brought a maid. The girl gasped and darted away, shouting at the top of her lungs.
Within seconds, the room was filled with people, all shouting and demanding her attention.
"Do you need a blanket?"
"Shall we boil water?"
All inane questions that made her head ache. "Where is my husband?"
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 20