The Reckless Love of an Heir

by Jane Lark

“Ah.” The sound escaped her lips, as her fingernails clawed in the skin of his upper arms, hanging on to him.

  He withdrew, holding his weight on his hands so that his body hovered above hers as he lifted his hips. He looked down when he pressed back in, and watched himself glide inside her.

  “Ah.”

  He looked up into her eyes.

  “Ah.” It was such a soft breathy sound.

  He moved more swiftly.

  As his gaze held hers, she bit her lower lip. He wished to see all the slight nuances in her expression as the use of her body spun sensations into his blood.

  Her legs lifted higher, gripping above his hips as he moved more firmly, but kept the weight of his upper body away from her. Her fingers slid into his hair. She was coming to her end, her gaze had clouded. She shut her eyes as he pushed into her, striking her hard with each thrust.

  “Henry! Ohhhh.”

  Heat flooded about his intrusion as her inner muscles clasped in a spasm about his invasion.

  A sound of utter relief and contentment clawed to escape his throat as his end came and his arms trembled as he fought to hold his weight while the sensation of his climax raced through his blood. The feeling was more intense with her. Perhaps that was because of love.

  When it passed, he smiled at her.

  She smiled at him and her fingers brushed over his hair.

  “I love you,” he said it to be the one to say it first, because he’d seen the words in her eyes, and he wanted her to know that he would not only say it to her in reply.

  He withdrew and rolled to his back, holding up his arm so that she would come to him. Her head settled on his chest. He wrapped his arm about her, and lay there listening to the birdsong that rose outside the window, announcing to the world that the sun was about to fall beyond the horizon.

  ~

  It was dark in the bedchamber.

  When Susan had fallen asleep the shutters had been open and the moon had just become visible, but now the shutters were closed, and she could neither feel nor hear Henry in the bed. She sat up. The sheet slid across her skin.

  There was a line of light about the edge of the door to Henry’s sitting room. Her nightdress caught the light, it still lay on the floor near the bed.

  She got up, picked it up and slipped it on, then went over to the door.

  When she opened it, she saw Henry. He was sitting in a high-backed, winged arm chair, clothed in the silk dressing gown he’d worn the day she’d come up here in the spring. One bare foot rested on a low table before him. The table held a decanter, half-full of an amber liquid, and he had a half-full glass of the same liquid in his hand, balanced on the arm of the chair, while he slumped back with his head against the seat, as his free hand stroked Samson’s ear.

  His head turned so he could look at her, but he did not speak.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Fairly.” He smiled.

  “Why are you not in bed?”

  “Because there is little point. Why do you have your nightdress on? You are breaking our first rule.”

  It was gaping open, though, she had not done up the long row of tiny buttons that he’d opened all the way down to her stomach. “You are covered too, and you cannot expect me to walk into a room naked when I do not know who else might be within it.”

  “I suppose.” He looked at the glass he held, then took a sip from it. The pace of his movement declared him either extremely tired or very foxed.

  “What is wrong?” She walked towards him, as Samson rose and came to her.

  Henry’s hand, containing the glass, settled back on the arm of the chair as he looked at her again. “Nothing for you to worry over.”

  She petted Samson’s head as his tail waved back and forth. “Except that you are my husband now and so whatever worries you is my concern too.”

  He lifted a hand out to her. “That is very sweet of you, Susan.”

  She held his hand.

  He pulled her closer, encouraging her to sit on his knee as he straightened up and set both feet on the floor.

  Samson watched them with an intrigued gaze as she sat sideways on Henry’s lap. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “It really is nothing for you to worry over.” He looked at the dog. “Samson, lay down over there.” He pointed at the hearth rug.

  Samson did his bidding, as charmed into submission as Susan was.

  Henry drank the rest of his brandy and leant around her to set the glass down on the table. Then his fingers wrapped about her neck, beneath her hair, and he pulled her mouth to his. The taste of brandy on his tongue brought back the smell of roses and crushed grass.

  His other hand slipped inside her open nightdress and squeezed her breast, released then squeezed it again, the action was repeated and repeated, as they kissed. The sensation only he engendered twisted in her stomach and she kissed him more ardently, her hands in his hair.

  “Sit astride me,” he said into her mouth.

  Like that… She had never imagined it like that.

  She stood up and turned around. “Dispose of this.” His fingers gripped the fabric of her nightdress by her hips.

  She smiled as she slipped it from her shoulders, and pulled it off her hands so it fell on to the floor.

  “Come on.” He tapped the arms of the chair as he made room for her, moving his legs together.

  She knelt astride his thighs entirely naked, her hair falling over her shoulders and brushing across her back.

  His hand lifted and stroked her hair away from her face. “You are very beautiful, Susan, far more beautiful than I think you know.” He would have pulled her mouth back to his but she held back, looking down and pulling the knot tying his dressing gown loose. Her fingers brushed over his stomach, across his midriff then up to his chest. Then they trailed down again and she touched the tip of his erection. His body jolted slightly.

  She looked up and smiled at him, as her fingers wrapped around him and squeezed, in the way he’d squeezed her breast.

  A sound of amusement rumbled in his chest as the strength of his hold on her head insisted she bend down to kiss him. “I love you,” he said against her lips, before he did kiss her. “You are a blessing, Susan.”

  She positioned herself so that she hovered over him, and she still held him so she moved him to ensure he’d enter her when she lowered down.

  “Mmmmm,” he hummed the sound against her mouth when she lowered, the vibration trembling against her lips.

  His hands braced her waist then slid down over her skin to her hips when she rose up. She descended again then rose up, her tongue catching at the tip of his as she pulled her mouth away from him. She lowered once more, and then kissed him again. His hands came up and caught hold of her head, trying to keep her mouth against his as she moved.

  “Susan,” he said in a breathy desperate tone when she pulled away rising right up.

  She descended again. His hands fell on to her thighs, and slid up and down them in the pattern of her movement, and he looked down staring at the juncture between her legs, as though he could see everything but she doubted he could see much.

  The way he looked at her made her feel as beautiful as he’d said she was. He loved her. Henry…

  She was his wife.

  Her hands lay on his chest, on his skin, as his hands returned to her hips, feeling her movement.

  “I love you.”

  He smiled rather than said it back, but it was there in his eyes for her to read.

  She moved up and down a little quicker, rising and falling, and his hands encouraged her to rock forward and back.

  The sensations their joining spun up inside her, with the slow motion of a spoon stirring sugar into a cup and melting the sweetness into her blood, made it harder to move. Her muscles weakened and trembled.

  His hands gripped and moved her, as he pushed upward while he brought her body down, and then she entirely melted around him. She sighed out her emotion, her limbs quivering.<
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  “Yes,” Henry said.

  Yes, her mind echoed. Yes. She loved him, and it might be selfish but it was wonderful.

  In the end he held her still and just pumped up into her, pushing hard. Her fingers clung to his shoulders and her head pressed close to his. Her hair brushing his chest.

  He growled in her ear when his release throbbed inside her and his hand opened wide embracing her head, his fingers tangling up in her hair.

  They stayed still, pressed against each other, her breasts rising and falling, rubbing against his chest which was damp with sweat. Her head rested on his shoulder. He felt like hers. As though she owned him. She smiled against his neck and then pressed a kiss on to his skin.

  After a while he said, in a deep voice, “Come along get up. Let us return to bed.”

  She climbed off him, turned and blew out the candle.

  She couldn’t see him when she heard him stand up, and she couldn’t see him when he bent and picked her up, catching her beneath the knees and about her shoulders.

  She squealed.

  “Hush. You will wake the boys; they sleep in the room above mine.”

  He carried her across the room.

  “You can see better than me.”

  “Obviously. You wear spectacles.”

  She poked her tongue out at him, but that he did not see in the dark.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Susan rolled over and her hand reached across the bed, but she already knew Henry was not there, it was the same as last night. There was no sound of breathing and no dip in the mattress from his weight laying beside her.

  She opened her eyes and sat upright. Daylight peered about the shutters.

  There was a piece of folded paper on the far side of the bed. She reached across and grasped it, then unfolded it.

  Forgive me, sleeping beauty, I am going riding with my brothers, they need me, you see, at the moment. But the girls will be in the house and Mama. They will keep you company at breakfast and through the morning. But if they become too much feel free to run to the library. I should return by luncheon.

  x

  Yours,

  Henry

  So she had the morning to herself.

  She tumbled on to her back. She could lay here and sleep in, but the energy inside her was too excited to do that. She ached. Mostly from making love in the chair, but it was a nice ache.

  I am a married woman! Her soul screamed it out.

  She got up and rang for a maid to bring water to wash with and to help her dress.

  When she went downstairs, Aunt Jane, Sarah and Christine were at the breakfast table.

  “Susan.” Aunt Jane stood. “Come and sit beside me.”

  They talked of nothing really, of dresses, balls and some of the unusual fashions they had seen in their short season in London. Yet Susan was not fooled, they were not happy, they were suffering over William’s loss and talking for her sake. As soon as she had finished eating she excused herself. Not because she wished to avoid them but because she felt as though they would rather avoid her, and so she went to the library.

  The door had been left ajar, she pushed it open wider, her fingers shaking. Uncle Robert might be there and she would not want to disturb him. He was not. She found out a book to read, a book about Italy, and settled in a chair, pressing her spectacles a little farther up her nose.

  When Henry walked into the room she looked at the clock, it had past midday.

  “Hello,” she said in greeting.

  He smiled as he walked across the room. Then when he reached her he bent down to press a kiss on her lips. “Hello,” he said against her lips, then straightened, catching hold of her hand. “Come along book-head, it is time for luncheon. Set the book down and come with me.”

  She put the book on the table beside her and stood. He’d kept a hold of her hand. “Have you just come back?” She asked as they walked.

  “Yes, well apart from allowing myself time to change out of my clothes that smelled of horse.”

  “Where did you ride?”

  “Along the perimeter of Papa’s land.”

  She nodded.

  He looked sideways at her. “Were you lonely? I would hate for you to be lonely here.”

  “No, I just sensed Aunt Jane, Sarah and Christine would rather have been alone with their thoughts than feeling they needed to make conversation with me.”

  “You know you are going to have to stop calling Mama, Aunt Jane, it sounds rather odd for her daughter-in-law.” He smiled again

  She laughed. “I suppose so.”

  “Sir.” A footman stood in their path.

  Henry stopped but he did not let go of her hand. “Yes, Peter.”

  “Mr Hopkins, the steward is waiting below stairs to see Lord Barrington, my Lord, but Lord Barrington is out riding and no one is sure when he will return.”

  A sigh slipped from Henry’s lips and his free hand ran over his hair. “Have cook give Mr Hopkins some refreshment. I will speak with him after I have eaten.”

  When the footman turned away, Henry’s fingers squeezed her hand a little tighter for a moment before he began walking again.

  The boys and Percy were at the table as well as the girls, in fact the only person missing was Uncle Robert. The boys talked loudly, full of energy and tales from their ride, which appeared to give Sarah and Christine an excuse not to talk at all. Susan watched them all, silent herself, but she particular watched Henry, he smiled and laughed with the boys then turned and asked his mother something. She smiled before replying. Then he looked at Sarah and Christine and spoke with them. Then he looked at Susan. Their gazes held for a moment and he smiled. Then he looked at the boys again.

  He was keeping guard over them all.

  It was endearing.

  Once they’d mostly finished eating, although the boys were helping themselves to more cake, Henry stood up. “I am going downstairs to talk with Hopkins, if Papa comes home, Mama, please tell him where we are.”

  His mother gave him an apologetic and appreciative look. Henry nodded. Then he looked at Susan. “Will you find something to do?”

  “Of course.” She was among the people he was watching over now. She tried to give him a reassuring smile as he turned away.

  She did not see Henry again until she was changing for dinner in his room. He walked into the room when the maid was still there, with Samson in his wake. The maid had been putting up Susan’s hair. The maid straightened and stepped away, but she had just finished anyway.

  “You look beautiful.” Henry crossed the room with long, quick strides then bent and kissed the back of Susan’s neck.

  Susan saw her colour rise as she looked at her reflection.

  She looked at his reflection.

  He’d dressed for dinner. He must have used another room. He looked strikingly attractive, incomparable to her, no matter that he called her beautiful. He smiled at her, through the mirror. She smiled too.

  “Do you need me for anything else, my Lady.”

  Susan turned and looked at the maid. The term my lady was still a shock to her. “No, thank you.”

  “You have done a marvellous job with Susan’s hair, Sally,” Henry acknowledged as the maid bobbed a curtsy. She smiled before she left them.

  Henry bent and kissed the back of Susan’s neck again. “Have you been lonely?”

  “No.” She turned sideways in the chair. “I have begun sewing you a new shirt as your mother and sisters were sewing.”

  A sound of humour escaped his throat, and his head declined a little in a slight nod. “Very industrious, but it sounds like torture.”

  She smiled, stood up and wrapped her arms about his neck. “I missed you.”

  He seemed to smell the perfume dabbed on her neck when he hugged her in return. “I missed you too. We will eat dinner and then come up to bed, as things are, no one will mind.”

  Samson nudged at her hip, for some attention or to break her apart from Henry.


  They separated.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you leaving off your spectacles?”

  She smiled. “Yes, my hair looks better without them.”

  “You know I like you with and without them, just so we are straight on that point.”

  “I know.”

  “Come along then.” He grasped her hand and began to lead her from the room. “Samson, stay.”

  When they walked outside the bedroom door, he let go of her hand. “Take my arm.” He held his forearm up.

  She wrapped her fingers about it.

  “You know you are the only woman who has ever gripped my arm and not just lain her hand on it…”

  “Oh. Am I doing the wrong thing?”

  He smiled at her. “No, you are doing absolutely the right thing. That is why I offered my arm, only because I wished you to hold it just so.”

  She leant against him a little, before they began walking again.

  She was still gripping his arm when they walked into the drawing room.

  “Papa.” Henry’s arm dropped and he walked away from her, crossing the room to speak with his father. Uncle Robert kept shaking his head as Henry talked.

  “Dinner is ready to serve!” Davis called.

  They all turned.

  “Susan.” Percy was at her side. He’d been talking to the boys but now they were talking with their mother.

  She accepted his arm and lay her hand on it rather than held it. “How are you? Everyone seems to be so quiet, yet you are busy entertaining Stephen and Gerard.”

  “I do not mind. Henry has enough on his shoulders, he needs someone to help with the boys.”

  Susan looked back across the room. Henry was walking towards her.

  “Percy! That is my wife, of one day, I hope you will be gracious enough to let her grip my arm and not yours to walk to the dinner table.”

  Percy laughed and let her go.

  Henry lifted his arm.

  She gripped it, held it, not just lay her hand upon it.

  They walked ahead of his father and the others, leading the way into the dining room, and once in the room and at the table, Henry withdrew a chair for her, before a footman could, and then sat down beside her, as everyone else sat down around them.