Lord Greywell's Dilemma

by Laura Matthews

  "I want you to be happy, my dear,” he said. “I want you to feel as comfortable at Ashfield as you ever did at Lyndhurst or more so. This is your home now. If there are things you want to do in the community that you haven't because you thought I'd disapprove, please don't hesitate to act on your conscience. I wouldn't feel right restraining you from doing what you thought best. You have a free reign, Elspeth."

  "I don't deserve one,” she said, with a muffled sob, burying her head more deeply against his shoulder. “I was always so sure I knew what was right for everyone, and I couldn't even exert a proper control over myself."

  "That's in the past. It wasn't a bad lesson to learn, that we're all fallible.” He held her slightly away from him, to see if she was actually crying. But her eyes, though brilliant with moisture, had not overflowed, and he smiled down at her, stroking the hair from her face. “You're a remarkable woman, so strong and yet vulnerable. That's the kind of woman I'd most like to depend on, Elspeth. I wouldn't have it any other way.” And he bent to kiss her.

  This time she responded immediately, so he didn't have an opportunity to draw away without recognizing her willingness to accept his caress. The pressure of his lips increased tentatively. Elspeth welcomed it eagerly, bold now, herself, in plying him with kisses, quick, excited little assurances of her affection. And then her mouth was slightly open and she felt his tongue explore the moist, warm recesses. They had edged themselves down until they were lying on the carriage rug, their bodies touching at almost every point.

  His thumbs rubbed softly under her earlobes, his mouth still joined with hers. For what seemed an eternity, or only the length of time a lightning bolt took to flash, they lay that way, their kisses savored with a sort of timeless wonder. Then Greywell drew back, smiling apologetically. “You're going to catch a chill."

  "Oh, no,” she assured him. “I'm perfectly warm."

  But he only shook his head and sat up, carefully studying her in the ghostly moonlight. She continued to lie on the rug, consternation plain on her face. “I didn't mean to alarm you,” he said.

  "You didn't alarm me! Really!"

  Though he nodded, he made no move toward her, but wrapped his hands around his bent knees and gazed off toward the distant lights at Ashfield. Elspeth hadn't the first idea what he was thinking. He seemed to be frowning, but from her vantage point she couldn't quite tell. Hesitantly she said, “I wouldn't mind if you kissed me again."

  Greywell turned to smile down at her. “Then I will, but it's getting cooler, Elspeth. That shawl doesn't provide you much protection."

  "When you were lying beside me, I couldn't even feel the breeze."

  Gallantly he lowered himself to afford her a shield from the evening cool. His arms enveloped her, hugging her to him, and his lips once again met hers. Elspeth resisted the need to shudder under his touch; he would only think she was cold, when she was actually becoming increasingly warm. Or he would think she disliked the way his hands stroked her sides, getting caught in the gauzy overdress. As his kiss deepened again, she longed for him to touch her aching breasts, but he steadfastly kept his hands some distance from them.

  Desperate for more contact, she whispered, “I wouldn't mind if you warmed my bosom with your hands. It's a little exposed."

  Actually, it was as exposed as she could make it by surreptitiously tugging down the bodice with one hand. There was a great expanse of white now visible, and he covered it with his warm fingers, his mouth still on hers. For a moment his hands remained unmoving, but there was something too tempting about the soft mounds for him to resist their attractions. Slowly he began to move his fingers, first over only those parts of the breasts which were uncovered, but when he encountered no resistance, he slid his fingers under the material. Elspeth sighed.

  His fingers stilled, but when she continued to run her tongue along his lips, he resumed his exploration. The touch on her sensitive nipples was almost electric, sending bolts of delicious sensations through her body. Impatient with the constriction of her gown, she pushed the material down over her breasts and watched, with some trepidation, his reaction. “I'm not so large as those women on the snuffboxes,” she confessed.

  "No,” he agreed, his gray eyes appearing almost black in the darkness. “That doesn't matter, you know. You're lovely. Do you mind my touching you?"

  "It feels wonderful."

  "Would you like me to kiss your breasts?"

  Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “Yes, please."

  Elspeth wasn't sure she could stand the ecstasy his mouth produced. Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive. She found her fingers woven in his dark hair, holding on as though she might be swept away. The moisture from his tongue, the suction from his lips, connected with that part deep within her that craved satisfaction. “Oh, David, I can't bear it,” she whispered.

  Confused as to her meaning, he lifted his head to look into her eyes. They were sultry with desire, shining in the moonlight like two new stars. He touched her quivering lips with a gentle finger. “Do you want me to stop now?"

  "No. Yes. Could we go home and..."

  Without another word he slipped the gown back over her breasts and rose to help her to her feet. Elspeth's knees felt slightly weak, and she clung to him for a moment before she was able to walk to the curricle. To her surprise, she found she was very nervous now. The tension in her body refused to abate, and she wasn't sure, from his silence, that he had understood what she meant. He was as gentle, as solicitous, as he ever was with her, driving now with a necessary concentration on the dark road.

  "David?"

  "Yes, my dear?"

  "I meant, when we get back, that, if you wanted to, you could come to my room."

  "Yes, I thought that was what you meant."

  "Would you want to do that?"

  He turned to smile at her. “Very much. But perhaps this is as good a time as any to mention our original agreement. I will abide by it if you prefer that, Elspeth. If there is any reason, other than your own desire to consummate our marriage, that's leading you to this step, I don't think you should take it."

  "What kind of reason?"

  "I don't know. Guilt. Sympathy. Duty. Any number of things might be influencing you. I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

  "I won't regret it,” she said firmly, clutching her hands together in her lap. “It's what I want."

  He shifted the reins to one hand and reached over to touch her cheek. “I'm glad."

  As he swept the curricle down the carriage drive she noticed the lamp was still burning on the second floor in the nursery. And when he handed her down at the front door, Bates came scurrying out to inform her that Andrew wasn't feeling well and had been crying for her. Forgetting everything else, Elspeth hurried into the house and up to the child.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The child had a fever and was fretful, but his condition didn't seem to warrant sending for Dr. Wellow. Elspeth sat with him, putting cold, wet cloths on his forehead to make him more comfortable. When Greywell came in, she looked up at him and said, “He'll be fine, but he doesn't want me to leave. I'll just stay here with him, if you don't mind."

  "Of course I don't mind. Shall I stay, too?"

  Elspeth didn't know how to respond to the question in his eyes. If they stayed together until the child fell asleep, they could go down together to one of their rooms. But Elspeth had already decided she would spend the night in Andrew's room, sleeping in the chair in case he should need her during the night. “No,” she said finally. “One of us should get a good night's rest."

  He nodded and went over to lay a hand softly on his son's head. Then he bent and gently kissed Elspeth goodnight before walking quickly from the room. Elspeth watched him go with a certain misgiving. Would he resent her defection? She couldn't imagine he'd mind her sitting up with his sick child, but perhaps he would think it unnecessary and would assume she had actually changed her mind. Well, she could straighten him out on that.
But with her father coming ... Elspeth sighed and leaned her head back against the chair.

  When she woke it was morning. A weak gray light was filtering through the space between the draperies, and Elspeth could hear soft movements in Bates’ room. Andrew was sleeping peacefully; when Elspeth reached over to touch his forehead it was cool again. She stretched her aching shoulders and rose from the chair. There was no reason to stay longer. When Andrew woke, which would probably not be for another hour, he wouldn't likely even remember he'd been ill the previous evening. Childhood ailments often came and went quickly.

  Elspeth still wore the lovely dress from the night before, and as she drew the fragile shawl about her shoulders a daring possibility occurred to her. She could go to Greywell's room—now. He would be asleep, of course, but he wouldn't mind being awakened, would he? She had never seen him asleep, didn't know if he lay sprawled across the bed or curled in one small space. She suddenly had an urgent need to find out.

  It was too early for him to be awake, not yet seven, she supposed. Some of the servants were already up and about, no doubt. Would Clemson be? Elspeth didn't wish to run into the valet as she made her way to Greywell's room, so she proceeded cautiously, peering around corners as though she didn't belong in the house at all. At his door she hesitated, having second thoughts, and feeling tremendously nervous. Just because she wanted to be there didn't mean he would want her to come. What if he was inordinately grouchy in the morning? She'd never noticed such a thing, but it was always possible.

  The door was unlocked, as she had assumed it would be. It was also well oiled, and made no sound as she cautiously pushed it open. Heavy draperies obscured any light that was gracing the early morning outside. In the gloom she could barely make out the bed at first. There was a monstrous concoction of valances and hangings on it, so that he was completely shut off from the rest of the room. Elspeth wondered that he didn't suffocate in there.

  She felt a little foolish sneaking over to his bed on tiptoe and nervously pushing back the heavy maroon velvet hangings. Her eyes had accustomed to the gloom and she could see him lying there, one hand flung out over the sheet. His face was partially hidden in the fluffy pillow, and his hair adorably disarranged, standing up in a cowlick at the back. There were no blankets covering him, and the sheet came only to his waist. From what she could see, it seemed likely he was wearing nothing at all, which was not surprising in the stuffy enclosure. Tendrils of hair clung moistly to his forehead.

  "David?” she said softly.

  His eyes opened instantly, full of alarm. “Is Andrew worse?"

  "No, no! He's quite well this morning. At least, he isn't awake yet, but his forehead felt perfectly cool. Bates was already up; I could hear her. So I thought there was no need for me to stay longer."

  He reached for her hand, and his face relaxed into a smile.

  "Did you sleep in the chair all night, my dear? How very uncomfortable."

  "No more uncomfortable than your sleeping in this airless closet,” she said dryly. “How can you bear it?"

  "I did it for you,” he said, taking hold of the other hand and pulling her down to sit on the bed. “I thought to myself, ‘If Elspeth should come to me I will want to have the hangings closed, in case Clemson should wander in in the morning without knocking.’ He does sometimes, you know, since I'm here by myself."

  "It would have been simpler to lock the door against him,” she retorted, a faint flush rising to her cheeks.

  "Why, so it would. I should have consulted you."

  "You really thought I might come?"

  "I hoped you would, but it didn't seem likely. And yet here you are.

  She stared at her wrinkled gown. “I couldn't be sure you would want me to come."

  "Of course you could.” He made to sit up and thought better of it. “Why don't you lock the door now, my sweet. Then we can tie back this stifling material and have a little fresh air.” He pushed the damp hair from his forehead as he spoke.

  "Very well,” she said, a little stiffly. “Don't bother to get up! I'll get the hangings, too."

  Elspeth didn't notice his twinkling eyes as she scurried off to lock both doors, open the window a bit, and then tie back the maroon velvet. He had moved over to the opposite side of the bed when she was finished, and he patted the side nearest her. “Join me,” he invited, arranging himself in a sitting position against one of the pillows.

  It was an enormously large bed, and she found it was a little awkward climbing onto it. Sitting on the side, she kicked off her shoes and positioned herself against the pillow he had placed for her at the head of the bed. Greywell immediately took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “You look a bit pale,” he said. “Are you feeling all right?"

  "Yes. I'm fine."

  "Let me take your shawl,” he suggested. “You really don't need it."

  Elspeth shifted slightly so he could remove it from her shoulders, and watched as he folded it carefully and placed it on the floor beside the bed. Her nervousness was increasing by the minute.

  "Do you want me to ring for your morning tea?” she asked.

  There was a trace of amusement in his voice when he said, “Thank you, no. Unless, of course, you yourself are impatient for yours."

  "I drink hot chocolate,” she reminded him, her fingers unconsciously playing with a fold of the sheet. She hastened to add, “And I don't want any now."

  "Good.” He had turned to face her and was now gently removing the pins from her hair and running his fingers through it to unbraid her long tresses. “I particularly liked this hairstyle,” he told her as he ruined it. “I hope you'll wear it again soon."

  "Yes, I ... I will."

  "And your gown. I dare say your maid won't have any difficulty getting out the wrinkles, but I should have thought to send her up with your dressing gown. I'm sorry."

  "It doesn't matter."

  "No, but perhaps we should remove it now so that it doesn't get any more wrinkled. Would you mind if I helped you out of it, Elspeth?"

  He was running a finger along the hollow of her throat and could feel her swallow convulsively, but he smiled encouragement, and she nodded. There were dozens of tiny covered buttons down the back of the dress. He undid each one with unhesitating, patient fingers while her back was turned to him and her arms folded protectively over her breasts.

  Elspeth allowed him to slip the dress down her arms and then under her bottom and down her legs. The muslin chemise was thick enough not to be transparent, though just barely. He draped the dress over a nightstand beside the bed. Then he moved over to put his arm around her shoulders. “There. You'll be more comfortable now,” he said.

  "Thank you."

  "We expect your father about midafternoon, don't we?"

  "Sometime before dinner, yes."

  He was rubbing his fingers through the hair that rested on her shoulders. “You have beautiful hair, Elspeth. And your maid is very clever in dressing it. Are you satisfied with her, your maid?"

  "Oh, yes, she's excellent. Emily Marden recommended her."

  Elspeth was having a little difficulty meeting his eyes, but her shyness was diminishing as he continued to talk and caress her shoulder. It disappeared altogether when he kissed her, his warm, eager lips against hers. This was not a tentative kiss at all, but one born of desire, though carefully controlled so as not to frighten her. She responded to the longing pressure, parting her lips so his tongue could enter. He tasted a little different than he had the night before, more like autumn walnuts than summer fruit. She loved the taste of him.

  They had been sitting, but she found they were now lying against one another, and she could feel his naked hardness through the thin coating of her muslin pantalettes. She moved her hands to feel the firm skin on his back, to run them down to his waist. And still her lips were joined with his in a continuing, delicious exploration that had no object but their pleasure. His hands moved gradually from her back to her sides, where they slid unde
r the chemise, stroking her tenderly on the silky unexposed flesh.

  They heard the doorknob rattle, and Greywell grinned at her.

  "I won't need you this morning,” he called to Clemson, whose “Very good, milord” sounded more than a little put-out. Elspeth blinked at her husband in the growing light, disliking even the small interruption. Greywell brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead and eyelids, his hands beginning a cautious journey up her body under the chemise. When he touched the swell of her breasts, he was gazing into her eyes. Her lips trembled, but not with fear or even surprise. “I love to touch you,” he said.

  "I love having you touch me,” she whispered. His hands gently cupped her breasts, finding and fingering the already prominent nipples.

  "Let's take off your chemise,” he suggested.

  Elspeth struggled eagerly from the offending garment with his help, sitting up to toss it off the bed. Greywell clasped her to him, his arms tight around her in an affectionate hug. “You're a real treasure,” he murmured.

  Then he kissed her gently on the lips before lowering his head to her breast. As on the evening before, the sensations he produced made Elspeth's body tingle with desire. Each movement of his lips, his tongue, sent a riot of messages throughout her body. When his hand came to stroke her gently between her thighs, she thought she would burst with wanting him, but he was not yet satisfied that she was ready. Or he was not himself ready to culminate the delightful rising passion in himself. Elspeth didn't mind. If possible, she wanted this glorious headiness to last forever.

  He had pushed down the pantalettes, and his fingers were doing excruciatingly erotic things to her. She gasped.

  "It will hurt a little the first time, Elspeth. There's a bit of tissue that has to be broken for me to enter you."