by Jo Beverley
“Huzzah!” He picked her up and twirled her around. He had never, ever been so happy. “Then let’s go find Reverend Barnsley and the Weyfords.” He took her hand and pulled her over to Zeus. She stopped suddenly.
“I can’t ride with you! Your poor horse will collapse under our weight.”
“No, he won’t, will you, Zeus, old man?”
Zeus snorted and shook his head. Grace laughed.
“See?” David said. “Zeus thinks you are being ridiculous, and I agree. Come on.” He grabbed Grace around the waist and lifted her onto Zeus’s back; then he swung up to sit behind her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her securely. If he enjoyed the feel of her curves…well, it was all in the name of safety.
Grace settled back into David’s arms. She was finally where she belonged—where she most wanted to be.
The walk from Standen had been nerve-wracking. It had been so dark. She’d tripped over every rock and root and jumped at every animal call, every rustle in the bushes. The back of her neck was stiff from worry—she’d been terrified someone would come after her and take her back to Standen. And the thought of traveling alone all the way to London…Well, she was very glad she wouldn’t have to endure that experience.
She tensed. She wasn’t safe yet. The moment Papa discovered her missing, he would turn the house upside down and scour the countryside looking for her. If he found her with David, there was no telling what he would do. And when they got to The Blue Heron…
“David, Mr. Timms, the innkeeper, thinks I’m marrying John this morning. If he sees me, he’ll wonder…”
“Don’t worry. I think we can avoid Mr. Timms.”
She saw The Blue Heron ahead of them now. David turned, taking them into the trees a short distance from the inn. He dismounted and helped her down.
“Stay here while I put Zeus back in the stable and find the Weyfords.”
She watched him lead his horse away. There was no good place for a woman her size to hide. What would she do if a servant came by? Most, if not all, of the people who worked at the inn would recognize her. She could crouch in that thicket perhaps—
“Grace—”
“Eek-ahem.” She tried to turn her squeak into a cough.
David raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Grace, this is Mr. and Mrs. Weyford from Kent. They are on an extended wedding trip. Mr. and Mrs. Weyford, my very-soon-to-be bride, Lady Grace Belmont.”
“How nice to meet you, Lady Grace.” Mr. Weyford bowed.
“And how romantic—a wedding in the woods.” Mrs. Weyford smiled.
David put Grace’s hand on his arm. “Let us hope Reverend Barnsley will consent to take a break from his sport to perform the ceremony.”
Reverend Barnsley—at least, that’s who Grace assumed the man standing on the riverbank holding a large fish was—grinned at them as they approached.
“Will you look at this beauty?” he said, holding the fish higher. “It must be close to a foot long, don’t you think?”
“At least a foot,” David said. “Reverend, may I present my fiancée, Lady Grace Belmont?”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Grace.” Reverend Barnsley transferred his fish to his left hand before taking Grace’s fingers in his right.
“And you, Reverend Barnsley.” She tried to keep smiling. If the man would perform the wedding ceremony, she couldn’t cavil over a bit of piscine odor. “That’s a very fine fish you have there.”
“A trout, Lady Grace. A very fine trout.”
“Indeed.” She looked at David. The annoying man was struggling not to laugh.
“I say, that is a fine trout, Reverend.” Mr. Weyford stepped closer to examine the catch. “What are you using for bait?”
Before Reverend Barnsley could launch into a dissertation, David cleared his throat. “Reverend, if I might interrupt, I was hoping you could do me a small favor.”
“A favor? Of course, Lord Dawson. How can I help?”
David pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “I have a special license here, and Mr. and Mrs. Weyford have agreed to act as witnesses. Lady Grace and I would like you to marry us.”
Reverend Barnsley examined the paper. “It seems to be in order.” He looked up and smiled. “I’d be happy to officiate. Where and when did you wish to marry?”
“Here and now,” David said.
Reverend Barnsley’s eyebrows shot up. “By the trout pool?”
“Can you think of a better spot?” David asked.
Grace looked at the grass, the trees, the water. It was a beautiful place for a wedding.
Reverend Barnsley grinned. “No, by Jove, I can’t. Here, Weyford, if you would be so kind?” The minister handed Mr. Weyford his trout to hold, then bent to pick up his prayer book.
Chapter 21
“What a stroke of good luck that the Weyfords are trout-mad, too.” David hauled Grace across the lawn to the inn.
“Why?” Grace dug in her heels. “Will you slow down? What is the rush?”
He stopped and grinned down at her. She was flushed and her wonderful bosom was heaving. In just a few moments, he would see every inch of that lovely, large…
Something else was growing painfully large.
“Because I should probably buy breakfast for everyone to celebrate our marriage, but I am very—very—anxious to celebrate in an entirely different, extremely private manner, if you get my meaning.” He brushed her breast to help her comprehend.
“Oh.” Her color deepened to bright red. “Is it…I mean, do we have to…so soon? It’s daylight. I thought that…activity was something one did at night.”
“Oh, no, I assure you, it can be accomplished at any time or place.” He felt absurdly cheerful. “Even here, now.”
“What!?” Grace’s voice actually squeaked. “Outside?” She looked around rather wildly. “Here?”
“Well, yes, though I personally don’t like the public nature of this specific location. But it is certainly physically possible. Still, I think a bed and a locked door would be better for your first time, don’t you think?”
“Ah. Er. Um.”
Obviously, Grace was too overcome to express her opinion.
“And I did think it best, given our situation, that we consummate our marriage promptly. It makes it so much more…final, don’t you think, if your father should happen to stop by the inn looking for you? I assume we have not passed the time when your wedding to Parker-Roth was to take place?”
“Oh. Yes. You’re right.” Grace darted a glance toward the road, then grabbed his hand and started almost running toward the inn.
He did like an eager bride.
Grace felt her heart pounding just like it had when she’d first launched herself out her bedroom window. It must be too late for Papa to make her marry John. She was already married. But David was right. Best to be very married.
She pulled the hood of her cloak low so it shaded her face as they got closer to the inn. She would prefer the servants not recognize her sneaking up the back stairs into a man’s room.
Heavens, what was she doing?
She hesitated, but David did not. He yanked open the door and pulled her in after him, up the narrow stairs, down the corridor to his room. She slipped inside and he followed her, closing the door and locking it securely behind him.
Thank God. She released her breath in a sigh of relief. She was finally—
Her eyes found the bed, and her heart started thudding in her chest again.
“Don’t be nervous, Grace.” David’s fingers found the clasp on her cloak and opened it.
“I’m n-not n-nervous.” She stepped away as soon as her cloak came off in his hands. “Well, m-maybe I am.”
She looked horrible. She should have taken the time to put on her corset. What had she been thinking? Now her overlarge breasts were hanging and jiggling in a most distressing way. And her hair had long fallen out of its pins.
“I don’t have a nightgown.”
David lau
ghed!
“Grace, love, a nightgown would be very much in the way.”
“It would?”
He nodded.
She thought about that. Of course, she knew a bed was involved in marital relations, and she didn’t usually climb into bed with her dress and shift on, but there was no reason why she couldn’t. In this case, with inn sheets involved, perhaps it was just as well. She would…
David was unfastening her dress.
“What are you doing?”
His lips curved in a slow smile and his eyes were positively hot. “I’m getting you completely, utterly, wonderfully naked.”
“Eek!” She wriggled free. “Surely that is not a good idea.”
He followed her retreat across the room. “On the contrary, it is a splendid idea. A brilliant idea.” He smiled again. “An idea I’ve thought about and dreamt about since I first saw you enter Alvord’s ballroom.”
“You’re jesting.” Oh, dear. His smile…she was throbbing again in that very embarrassing place. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me that way. It makes my stomach feel all fluttery.”
“Really?” He looked at her stomach—
She covered it with her hands. Thank God she still had her dress on. “Yes, really.”
“You know, I think that is probably a good thing.” He’d stopped trying to touch her, but now his fingers were working on his own clothes. He flung his greatcoat and coat in a corner and started on his waistcoat.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve decided perhaps you are shy because I am fully clothed, so I’m rectifying that situation.”
“Oh.”
The waistcoat and cravat went flying. Then he loosened the neck of his shirt and grabbed its hem.
“Ah, do you think…I mean…um, well…are you sure that is wise?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wait a moment.” He lifted his arms, pulling the shirt up and over his head. Then it, too, flew off to the side.
Oh. Her mouth went suddenly dry. Her heart felt as if it had stopped, but the lower place was throbbing wildly enough for two hearts. She grabbed a chair back. Her knees were threatening to give out.
He was beautiful. His arms curved with muscle, his shoulders were huge—amazing they had fit in his coat. His broad chest was covered with golden hair. Was it as soft as it looked?
“Like what you see?”
“Hmm.”
Suddenly he was close enough for her to touch. She put her hand on his chest. Yes, the hair was soft, but his body was hard, like warm marble.
“Then let me see, too.” He reached for her dress.
“No.” She snatched her hand—regretfully—back to hold onto her bodice. “You don’t want to see. I’m much too large.”
David’s gaze narrowed, becoming hotter. “You cannot be too large.”
She shook her head. What did men know? “Oh, yes. I am…huge. Not ladylike at all.”
She watched him swallow. His voice sounded strained.
“Grace, listen to me. I like large. I love huge.” He laughed, an oddly shaky sound.
“But ladies are supposed to be small and delicate.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Look at me. Do I look small and delicate?”
She looked at him. He was magnificent…and very, very large from the top of his head to his broad shoulders and chest, his flat, muscular stomach, his…
She blushed. There was a very significant bulge under the fall of his breeches. “N-no. You are not s-small.”
“Of course not. And I don’t want a small woman. I would crush her. I need—I want—a large woman. You, Grace. I want you.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please don’t hide from me. I want to see—I’m dying to see—every glorious inch of you.” His hands moved, slipping her dress off her shoulders. “Please? Please let me see. Let me touch.” His hands moved lower. “Let me taste.”
How could she say no? Her body ached for him. She wanted him as much, or more, than he wanted her. It was a madness, but one she felt powerless to cure.
Or perhaps he was her cure.
“Yes,” she whispered as her dress whispered over her breasts and down to her waist. She heard David suck in his breath; she felt her nipples peak, pushing against the thin covering of her shift.
And then her shift slipped down to her waist as well.
“God, Grace, you are so beautiful.”
“No, I…ah.”
His hands were on her breasts now, stroking their sides. His fingertip traced a circle around one nipple. He was…looking at her.
She should have been mortified. She was mortified, but she was also…excited. Her breasts felt so sensitive.
And then his thumb flicked over the hard nub of her nipple.
“Eek!”
“Do you like that?” David murmured.
“Y-yes.” It felt wonderful.
His mouth moved to cover her nipple and suck. Ah! She felt the pull all the way to the achy, wet, empty place between her legs. It was beyond wonderful. And then his hands brushed her waist, and her dress and shift slithered the rest of the way to the ground.
She was completely naked and shockingly happy to be so. She felt so alive and…powerful. David was staring at her with an almost worshipful expression.
He pulled her against his body. His lips teased her neck, her ear. His chest, with its lovely soft hair, felt splendid against her breasts—but his breeches were too rough on her other tender flesh. She pushed away from him so she could solve that problem. She reached for the buttons on his fall.
“Huh?” David raised his head. Grace’s breasts were truly the most beautiful, most glorious breasts he had ever seen, and the taste and scent of her skin were beyond intoxicating, but the sensation of her fingers brushing the front of his breeches made even those delights fade. He was going to explode—hopefully not literally—with happiness.
“You have too many clothes on.” Grace laughed. She felt so free—free to please herself for the first time—well, and to please David, too, she hoped. His love had given her this heady, wonderful, overwhelming feeling. She could be angry or happy; she could cry or laugh; she could be serious or silly—he would still love her, and she would still love him.
“If I am completely naked, you should be, also.” She worked loose the first button. She was thankful, too. She had barely escaped disaster—and marrying poor John would definitely have been a disaster. She would have locked herself—locked them all—forever in the dark prison of duty.
If she’d wed John, she would never have known this heat, this life that was surging through her. She hadn’t known it existed when she’d defied Papa and gone with Aunt Kate to London. Its first whisper had teased her when she’d seen David in the Duke of Alvord’s ballroom, and it had grown in her with each kiss, each touch, each word exchanged. It was lust and it was love, and she was now finally—finally!—going to discover its depth and breadth. She laughed and stroked David’s growing bulge through the cloth of his fall.
David bit his lip. Ah. Grace shy was adorable, but Grace bold was incredibly erotic. She was killing him—in the best possible way—as she worked on opening his breeches. He felt each brush of her fingers on his cock, yes—that was wonderful—but in his heart also. Seeing her beautiful, red-gold hair cascading over her creamy, lush breasts with their delicately tinted nipples, inhaling the sweet scent of her heat and desire…well, he’d almost wager his cock would tear his buttons free by itself if Grace didn’t manage to slip them from their holes.
But she did. Finally she opened the last button and his fall fell away. He’d dispensed with drawers this morning, not knowing at the time what an inspired decision that was, so his heated flesh sprang naked into the cool air of the room and Grace’s gentle touch.
“Oh, my.” Grace stared at the prize in her hands. So this was the male member. She ran her finger carefully from its root to its tip. It jumped…with deli
ght? David sucked in his breath sharply. She glanced up at him. His face looked strained, but in a good way.
His voice sounded strained, too. “You can”—he swallowed—“touch…me…all you want, love. You won’t hurt me.”
“No?” She wrapped her hand around him. He was large and warm, soft and hard. Quite different from her.
“No.” He was almost panting. “N-not at all.”
“I see.” She grinned and moved her hand up his length. He groaned. Her fingers flew away as if burned. She frowned at him. “You said I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“And you didn’t.” He moistened his lips. A bead of sweat slid down his face. He seemed to be having difficulty forming sentences. “That was a groan of pleasure.”
“A groan of pleasure?” She looked extremely skeptical. And, God, she wrapped her lovely fingers around him again. Some day he would love to play this game—let her take the lead entirely—but not today. Today he needed to get to the…point before he collapsed or spent himself ignobly in her hand.
“Indeed. Here, I will make you groan, too.”
She snorted. “No, you won’t.”
Zounds, he loved her. He would never have guessed this kind of love existed. He’d made love to enough females—but he now realized it had never been love he’d been making.
He grinned. “Would you care to wager on it?”
“Well…” Grace hesitated—and then grinned back at him in a delightfully shy, mischievous fashion. “Yes. What shall be the stakes?”
“Hmm. If I make you groan, you will do one thing in bed that I ask you to do.”
She frowned. “What kind of thing?”
“Something you will enjoy, I promise.”
She laughed. “All right. And if I win?”
“Well, I’m not sure you’ll have won if you don’t groan—and I shall be very disappointed with myself—but if you don’t, I will do one thing you ask me to do—in bed.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Very well, I accept your terms.” She held out her hand to seal the agreement.
He clasped it and pulled her against him. Wonderful—but his breeches were still in the way. He wriggled out of them and picked Grace up.