by Jane Charles
Instead of leaving as a wise woman would, she leaned in and kissed him.
“Grace, this is not right.”
She pulled away. “I know. I just don’t want to be alone.”
Of course she didn’t. He wasn’t sure he would wish to sleep by himself if someone had tried to murder him twice. Matthew pulled her close and pressed her head against his chest. It would be along night, but they would get through it. In a few days they would be married and he would no longer need to restrain himself from making love to her.
She sighed and the palm of her small hand rested on his chest. He hoped she didn’t touch him anywhere else because she might be shocked to find him completely naked in the bed. He had considered keeping his breeches on in case he had to leave the room in a hurry, but they were over the edge of the bed and he could put them on quickly enough. At least Grace wore her nightrail, not that it was much of a deterrent. The linen was so thin he could feel her heat penetrate the material, almost burning him where they touched.
“Grace, I cannot lay her like this with you.”
She pulled away. “I understand. You are probably not used to sleeping with someone else.”
He nearly laughed out loud. “Sleeping has nothing to do with it. I desire you so badly I won’t get a wink while you are here.”
Confusion marred her brow. Certainly she knew what men and women did together, once they were married, didn’t she? It never occurred to him that she would have no idea. Then again, her mother died when she was young. Perhaps nobody had explained. He certainly didn’t want to explain, especially here and now. Perhaps he would ask Elizabeth to speak with her tomorrow, so that she was prepared. In the meantime, he would keep reminding himself how innocent Grace was and not do anything he didn’t have a right to do.
Hell, he already was. She was in his bed and he was naked. He wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation.
“You wish to make love to me.”
Perhaps she did know. “Yes, but we aren’t married so I won’t.”
“But we will be,” she reminded him.
“That doesn’t make it right.” He forced her head back against his chest. Looking at her clear green eyes only made him want her more.
She began to trace a pattern on his chest with her index finger. “I’ve always been curious about what happens in the marriage bed.”
Matthew groaned. Now was not the time for that discussion. His cock was hard, straining against the covers, eager to show her, but he would resist the urge to roll her on her back. He was a gentleman and would treat her as such. “In a few days you will know.”
She sighed and snuggled against him. “Very well.”
At least her hand stilled and Grace was silent. In a short time her body grew heavy against his as she fell deeper into slumber. Matthew stroked her hair, enjoying the quiet solitude of just the two of them. This was his future and he was very much looking forward to it.
Grace woke and stared into the darkness. She lay on her side. Matthew was pressed against her back, his hand cupped her breast. “Matthew?”
He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he was asleep.
“Matthew,” she whispered again.
“Hmmm.” He pulled her close. Something rigid pushed against her backside, warming her insides. She had lived in the country all of her life and wasn’t ignorant of the various mating rituals of animals and she suspected what she felt was Matthews desire. She wiggled her behind. After all, this was the positions most animals mated in. Of course, she wouldn’t know for sure until they were married, but her curiosity got the better of her, especially since he was so close and his hand was now massaging her breast and he pinched her nipple. She would never get back to sleep now that the ache in her privates began again.
“Are you awake?”
“Hmmm.”
He kissed her neck and shivers slid down her spine. If he affected her this way in his sleep, how could he make her feel when he was awake? Her breast swelled in his hand and her nipple tightened. Heat spread throughout her body. If she woke him would he stop?
Matthew’s hand slid from her breast and down to her belly. Her pulse increased with each inch he moved toward the place between her thighs. He must be awake. He wouldn’t be doing such things in his sleep.
He pressed his palm against the place that pulsed and Grace groaned.
Matthew stilled.
Grace’s eyes flew open.
A moment later he was pushing away from her. “I am sorry.”
She rolled over to face him “Sorry?”
“I thought I was dreaming. I never meant to take such liberties.”
“Does that mean you are going to stop?” He couldn’t. Not now.
“Of course,” he insisted.
She blew out a breath. “Please don’t,” she finally whispered.
“Grace, you don’t know what you ask.”
“No, I don’t.” She searched his eyes. “But I do know you make me feel things I never felt before, or even imagined. Right now my body is, oh, I don’t even know how to explain.”
“Don’t tell me these things, Grace.”
“Why?” she cried.
“We can’t, not yet.”
“So I am to lay here and wonder why I ache.”
Matthew blew out a breath.
“You think me a horrible wanton don’t you?”
“No, never.”
Matthew stared into her eyes, wishing to find some semblance of control, but it was too far away to grasp. He didn’t want to think about Grace aching. He shouldn’t think about her in this state. Yet, she did, and it was his fault. It was the sweetest dream, making love to her; until he woke and found out he had taken liberties he did not yet have a right to.
“Then please show me.”
He wasn’t this strong and Matthew gave up trying to fight the desire and bent to take her lips with his. She parted for him almost immediately as she snaked her arms around his neck and weaved her fingers through his hair. At that moment he was lost and an urgency to make her his took over.
He repeated in his mind to go slow and remember that she was innocent, and he fought to keep from moving too quickly and frightening her.
He trailed his lips across her cheek and down her neck as he molded her full breasts. Her nipples pebbled beneath his fingers and Grace arched into him. He wanted to taste her, but he couldn’t through the linen. He pulled away and began bunching the material of her gown, drawing it up her body until he pulled it over her head and tossed it on the floor. She now lay naked before him and he wished he would have built the fire more so that he could see her more clearly.
Grace moved to cover her breasts but Matthew captured her hands and bent to suckle a nipple. Grace’s head fell back and she was arching again. He let go of her wrist and caressed her stomach, moving lower until his fingers brushed the curls of her womanhood. He moved to the other breast and nibbled as his fingers parted her folds, already damp. He needed to bring her pleasure quickly or he may not last long enough to join with her.
He circled the nub slowly, drawing her body’s moisture. Grace’s thighs fell open and it was all he could do not to settle between them and plunge forward. But Matthew restrained himself and increased the pressure. As her moans grew louder he brought his mouth back to hers, taking her cries into himself until she shuddered and fell limp against the bed. He pulled away and watched her face. He eyes opened slowly.
“Oh my goodness.”
Matthew bit back a grin and moved over her. He found her opening and slid one finger in, then a second, stretching. This first time would be difficult and he feared he might hurt Grace, but whether it was tonight or in a few nights, he would have to breech her maidenhead.
Grace was still trying to recover from what she just experienced. It was as if her body exploded with pleasure from inside. Goodness, it was spectacular, yet it seemed as if something was missing, empty. At least until Matthew started filling her. It was a bit uncomfortable but she desired it and
knew this is what she needed. Her pulse quickened anew and her breathing became harsh. Deep inside her continued to ache. He just needed to get there.
Grace bent her knees and tilted her hips, drawing him closer, deeper.
Matthew stopped and her eyes opened. Surely this wasn’t all there was.
He leaned forward and gave her the most gentle and sweetest kiss she had ever experienced a moment before he thrust forward. Pain tore through her insides and Grace bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Matthew stilled again and she looked up at him. “I am sorry.”
“I wasn’t expecting pain.”
He kissed a tear from her cheek. “No one had ever explained the veil of virginity to you before.”
“No.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I will, another time.”
He edged deeper. It wasn’t nearly as painful, but Grace feared it would hurt again.
“I promise you that you will never know that pain again.”
Thank goodness.
He moved deeper yet. She didn’t think it was possible for him to go any further.
“Does it still hurt?”
There was a dull ache, which was disappearing. “Not as it did,”
“Thank goodness.” He withdrew and plunged again. There was no pain this time and heat once again began to spread through her body.
“His pace increased and a moment later he stiffened before collapsing beside her on the bed.
His breathing was harsh and all Grace could assume was that he had just experienced something similar to the explosion he caused in her earlier.
Matthew smiled up at her and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
She grew cold and shivered now that the heat from their making love had passed. Matthew rose from the bed and tossed more logs on the fire. When he bent she got a good glimpse of his backside. His buttocks was tight and thighs muscular and Grace started to become warm all over again. It wasn’t long before the fire was burning hot and bright. But she no longer needed it to keep her warm.
Matthew picked her nightgown up off of the floor and helped her put it back on.
“It is best that you are covered if anyone were to come in the room.”
“I don’t think anyone would.”
“Were you expecting Mrs. Montgomery the other morning?”
It was a valid point and Grace pulled the nightgown over her head and crawled back beneath the covers. Matthew slid in the bed beside her and pulled her close. “I think we shall both be able to sleep now.”
Grace hid a yawn behind her hand and nodded. “With very sweet dreams I am sure.”
A moment later she was jolted from her sleep.
“Stay here.” Matthew jumped from the bed and put on his breeches before moving to the door. He stopped only long enough to retrieve a pistol from the inside of his coat draped across a chair.
Shouts and crashes could be heard from below. It had to be her uncle. Who else would John be fighting with?
The sounds became clearer when Matthew opened the door.
“She is my niece and I will say what happens to her.”
“You are not in charge of her, Stillwaite.”
“I will be.” A pistol fired and Matthew took off down the hall. Grace could not remain in bed and await the outcome. She slid into her slippers and followed Matthew. Elizabeth and Matthew were rushing down the stairs when she reached the top of the landing. Both held pistols.
Her uncle was standing in the middle of the foyer waving a gun around. There was a hole in the ceiling. At last John hadn’t been shot but was standing at the parlor door, a gun in his hand and aimed at Uncle Henry.
“Put the gun away, Stillwaite,” Matthew said in a calm, even tone.
“I will have what is mine.”
“None of this is yours,” Matthew reminded him.
“It should be,” he shouted, red with rage. “My brother is wasting good land while I have nothing.”
“You have a large estate in Kent.”
“That loadstone around my neck?” He spit. “It costs more than it produces.”
Jordan Trent slipped in the front door, his right eye swelling shut and discolored.”
“Sell it,” Mr. Trent suggested.
Stillwaite turned on him. “That is my ancestry home. I will not sell my estate.”
“It is not entailed,” Matthew questioned.
“No,” his brother answered and pulled away from the wall. “In fact, nothing he owns is entailed. I wrote to my partners earlier in the week to dig up everything they could on Stillwaite. The package was waiting for me when I returned this evening.”
Jordan turned on Stillwaite. “Your home is full of artwork, gold, jewels. Selling off half of your estate would help see you out of debt.”
“Why should I? Those are mine!”
The man had lost his mind. He kept turning circles in the foyer, stumbling this way and that. “Have you been drinking, uncle.”
He wheeled and focused on Grace. “You! If you would have done what you were told and married one of those blokes I would not be in this mess.”
“It is a mess of your own making,” Jordan Trent reminded him.
“Poor crops were not my fault.” The man’s face was almost purple. Grace had never seen anything like it.
“But sinking into gambling to solve the problem was.”
“There is nothing wrong with gambling. Nothing I tell you.”
There was no reasoning with the man. Matthew moved further down the steps. “So you would have your niece out of the way, dead, so you don’t have to sell your estate and be able to live in luxury.”
“Of course,” he shouted. “Don’t you understand? It is my right! I am Viscount Stillwaite and no chit is going to stand in my way of getting what I want.”
He lunged toward Grace but before anyone could grab hold of him he slumped against the wall and stared up at her. His arm dropped to the side and half of his face relaxed. It was the oddest sight. His knees buckled and slid down the wall, dropping to the floor until he collapsed. Matthew rushed forward and rolled him over. Uncle’s eyes were upon, staring into nothing.
Movement from the hall caught her eye and she turned to find her father standing just outside of the foyer, leaning heavily on his cane.
Perkins was at his side. “We heard the commotion and your father wouldn’t remain in bed.”
Papa shook his head sadly then turned and shuffled down the hall. It must pain him so to see his brother like this but all Grace could feel was relief. It was over and hopefully Uncle Stillwaite found whatever peace he was missing.
Elizabeth and Audrey stood back and stared at Grace. They had not allowed her to even glance toward a mirror since she woke this morning. Today was her wedding day and she would become Mrs. Matthew Trent. It was hard to believe that just a short week ago her life was in turmoil. Her father lay close to death and her uncle was trying to kill her. But all of that was behind her. There was nothing but a brilliant future ahead.
After Stillwaite’s collapse, Brachton saw that Draker was shipped off to London to be dealt with and wrote a letter explaining the events and Draker’s involvement as well as Richards. Stillwaite’s body was sent to his estate in Kent and Grace assumed he was buried in the family cemetery. Her father was now Viscount Stillwaite since uncle had never married or produced heirs, but from what she gathered he had no desire to take up residence there and had every intention of selling it to pay off the debts.
“Are you sure papa can go to the church?” She asked again.
Elizabeth smiled indulgently. Jordan and John have already seen to helping him in the carriage.
It was father who insisted on a church wedding, though he relinquished the honor of walking her down the aisle to Lord Crew. Papa was still recovering and could only walk a few feet before he had to rest.
“It was kind of Lord Brachton to provide the wedding breakfast but I don’t see that it is necessary.
There will be but a few of us. It isn’t like I am having a grand wedding in London.”
Elizabeth and Audrey shared a look. It was Audrey who spoke. “Did no one tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Don’t let anything go wrong. Not today.
“Everyone feels horrible with how they treated you and Vicar Trent. After his last sermon, those who were present let it be known the truth.”
“Though some still thought it was wrong for him to remain in your room,” Elizabeth interjected.
If they knew the half of it that night she would be ruined, or what occurred the last night he was in the house.
“And even though they haven’t been invited, several asked to attend, sort of an apology,” Audrey added.
“Besides, your reputation is saved as well as Mr. Trent’s, now that you are marrying.”
Elizabeth stepped aside and pulled a cover from the mirror in her room. Audrey turned her so that she could look. Grace gasped. Her hair was pulled away from her face, yet ringlets fell down her back. Buds from late blooming roses were pinned in her hair and she held a nosegay of fall wildflowers. Her dress was simple, yet elegant, caressing her skin with its soft, pale satin.
“Are you ready?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes.”
Lord Crew waited for them in the foyer and he smiled up at Grace. “You are a beautiful bride.”
Heat infused her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Matthew paced outside the church. He couldn’t breathe inside. He took deep breaths of fresh air to fill his lungs.
“What if she changes her mind?”
Jordan laughed. “Grace will be here.”
“She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”
“Is your future bride ever on time,” John asked.
Matthew chuckled. “The first time I saw her she was coming into church late. I had already started my sermon.”
“When I saw her this morning she was just coming in from the barn, muttering something about the cows and the chickens not cooperating with her this morning.”
Matthew looked at John. “She was milking cows and gathering eggs on her wedding day?”