by Darcie Wilde
Leannah stared at the acre of food, and then turned to stare at Harry. He blushed.
“I don’t know your tastes yet. I wanted to be sure there was something you’d like.”
“I’ve married a profligate! I shall be quite spoiled before the week is out.”
“Good.” Satisfaction filled the word. In answer, Leannah felt an odd contraction that she couldn’t quite put a name to. “Please, do help yourself.”
Leannah made up her mind to enjoy a hearty meal. She truly was famished, and now that their wicked wedding night had passed, there was certain to be a very long day ahead. Also, the hopeful look in Harry’s eyes warned her he would be made anxious if she did not fully partake of his breakfast.
She helped herself to croquettes and bacon, rolls, fruit, and tea. Harry pulled out her chair and saw her settled at her place before he loaded his own plate with chops, ham, eggs, and cake. He favored coffee over tea first thing in the morning and drank it hot and black. A habit, Leannah thought with something perilously close to wifely indulgence, he must have picked up in travels to barbaric foreign parts.
The food was excellent, and any lingering reluctance Leannah might have felt melted away as she tucked in. She did glance several times at Harry. A woman was expected to eat sparingly in public, to demonstrate her native delicacy and the care she took of her figure. But Harry did not appear at all taken aback at her appetite. In fact, he seemed quite pleased at her evident enjoyment of this morning feast he had arranged.
Which raised a question. “Whom do I have to thank for my dressing gown?” Leannah asked.
“Well,” said Harry around a mouthful of ham. “I did say one of the reasons I chose the Colonnade was because they know me here. It was also because I know that some persons keep permanent rooms here. I had a word with Marshall, and it seems that at least one such gentleman is out of town at this time, so we might safely borrow a few necessaries for one night.”
Leannah let all this unspool in her mind. “You bribed the maître d’hôtel to rifle some other gentleman’s rooms, and what I am now wearing belongs to his mistress.”
Harry looked pained. “I’ll have you know, madam, I went through a lot of trouble not to put it like that.”
“Well, one of you has excellent taste.”
“Actually, I think Lewis made the selection.” He sipped his coffee and eyed her thoughtfully. “Frankly, I would have rather you remained entirely naked, but I was concerned you might take a chill.”
Leannah laughed, even as she felt herself blush. She could all too easily picture herself lounging quite nude on a chair or sofa for Harry’s delectation. She’d enjoy it, and if she asked, she was sure he’d return the favor. She was equally sure she’d enjoy that at least as much. She’d barely had any chance to look at him last night before their passions carried them quite away.
“You are a wicked man, Mr. Rayburn.”
“You provoke a man to wickedness, Mrs. Rayburn.”
Leannah stopped. There it was again. Her thoughts would not settle. She was looking on this man with a burning desire. She was already dreaming of new and intensely erotic sport to enjoy with him. But every time he brought up her new name, it fell on her like a splash of icy water.
“Leannah,” said Harry seriously. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “Not really. I just . . . I’m not sure what happens next.”
“Neither am I.”
Leannah frowned and pushed the remains of her bacon around her plate. This seemed a waste of good food, so she speared the last of her rasher with her fork and nibbled at it. She did all this without looking up. She could feel Harry watching her, and the tension growing between them was anything but warm. It was embarrassing. It was ridiculous. She had always prided herself on being able to act decisively no matter what the situation. Now, she couldn’t even look at her lover.
This must end. She set her fork down and raised her eyes.
“Well, we are both going to have to go home,” she said. “With Dorothea Plaice on the scent, the whole world will soon hear some version of what’s happened. It would be wrong for our families to find out about our marriage via common gossip. I think you said you live with your parents?”
“Yes, and I agree with what you suggest. Do we go separately or together?”
“Would you be hurt if I said separately?”
“No. There’s ground that needs to be prepared on both sides, I’m sure. Unless you think your uncle or your sister’s already told your father?”
“No, I don’t think they would do that.”
Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantel. It had gone on half ten. “Father will be at his office already, but my mother and sister don’t generally start making the social rounds until one o’clock. That means there’s still time to break the news before they hear it in somebody’s or the other’s parlor. Shall we say we’ll meet back here for supper at seven o’clock, perhaps? I’ve taken the room for a month, to give us time to plan and, well, adjust.”
A month. I’ve married a man who can casually command a room in a first-class hotel for an entire month. It should have been exciting, or at least, comfortably reassuring. Instead, another cold wash of guilt threatened.
“I might have to stay,” she told him. “This is going to be a severe shock to my father. If he has a nervous attack, I might not be able to leave at once. We have no regular nurse, you see.”
“I understand. You can send me a note if that’s the case. Direct it here. I don’t expect to be delayed.” He spoke to the bottom of his coffee cup. “Although, it’s impossible to say. So, you’ll leave me your direction, just in case?”
There was something unusually strained in the way he said this. Leannah didn’t like it. “Of course.”
His sigh held a little too much of relief in it to be entirely comforting. “Assuming all goes well, what then?”
“Then, I think I will need to talk with Meredith Langely. Do you know the Langleys?”
“I’ve heard of them, of Miss Langely, anyway. She’s a sort of—social secretary to the ton at large—isn’t she?”
“Something like that. She helps matrons and their daughters organize successful seasons. In return, they invite her and her mother to stay for extended periods, or help with her expenses. It’s an odd mode of existence, I’ll grant you, but it allows them to manage. She’s also a good friend of mine from boarding school.” There was no need yet to explain that her stint at boarding school had been a whim of Father’s. He thought that she might be able to make friends with more wealthy and powerful families there than she could being schooled by governesses in their country home.
It had lasted all of six months before she’d had to withdraw, and of the girls she’d met, only Meredith had become any sort of friend.
“The one thing we can be absolutely sure of is that there will be talk,” she said. “Meredith will be able to help us manage it.”
“Help us ride out the storm, you mean?” He nodded. “Yes. There’s a great deal of sense in that. I hate having to give a fig about the haut ton and their fastidious attitudes, but I don’t want things to be any more uncomfortable for you than necessary.” He got up and helped himself to more ham, and coffee.
A scratching sounded at the door. Harry glanced at Leannah and set his plate down. He opened the door a fraction of an inch and then slid into the hallway. When he returned, he had a letter in his hand.
“There’s a trunk waiting downstairs for you. It came with this.” He handed her the paper. The direction was written in Genny’s careless hand.
Leannah broke the seal at once, and with her heart in her mouth, she read:
My dearest sister,
I hope this finds you well and happy. You are not to worry a bit about us. All is just as it should be here. I’ve told Father and Jeremy that Mrs. Waterson suffered a sudden collapse, and that you went to stay with her until her niece could arrive. Uncle and Aunt have
agreed not to contradict me.
I promise you that Father is none the worse for this news and Jeremy is only interested in whether he might be allowed to go out riding in Hyde Park today if the weather holds.
I thought you might be in need of a few things, so I took the liberty of packing your trunk and sending it along with this note.
Please convey my greetings to Mr. Rayburn. I know that we will see you both in due course.
Your loving sister,
Genny
“I trust all is well?” asked Harry with studied nonchalance as he carried his plate back to the table.
“Yes. Very. Genny just sent me some clothes. She says Father and Jeremy—my brother—are both well.” Leannah took a deep breath and laid the letter facedown. “So, that’s all to the good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You know, we should consider the matter of a house.”
“A house?”
“Yes. We can’t stay in a hotel forever. I was thinking we might look in the vicinity of Dobbson Square.”
It took a moment for Leannah’s startled thoughts to catch up. “The Dobbson Square that is in the vicinity of Grosvenor Square?”
“Yes. Is that not posh enough? I’m not sure my finances run to St. James’s.”
Abruptly, Leannah began to laugh, and once she’d begun, she found she couldn’t stop. Her letter fell to the floor, and her breath came short, but still the laughter would not cease. Harry joined in at first, but then seemed to realize something was wrong. Something was wrong. She needed to stop, but she couldn’t stop. Tears ran down her cheeks and an entire tangle of emotion seethed painfully inside her.
Harry strode around the table. “It’s all right, Leannah,” he said as he wrapped her in his arms. “Truly. It’s all right.”
Leannah buried her face in the warm silk that covered his arm, and she sobbed. She couldn’t help it. Too much was happening, and far too fast. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. She’d made one wish, and now she had everything she could ever want. Except she couldn’t keep it. It was not possible she could hold on to this kind, passionate man or this future of ease and plenty. Those times she had known plenty had always collapsed. So would this, except this collapse would be worse, because when it came, it would take Harry away.
Harry said nothing. He made no move to pull back from her. He just ran his hand across her shoulders in steady, soothing strokes and let her cry. Slowly, the storm eased, and Leannah was able to lift her head.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “You must think me a complete hysteric.”
“No.” Harry retrieved her napkin, which had fallen to the floor alongside the letter from Genny. He passed it to her for use as a handkerchief. “I think that your life has been turned upside down. It would be very strange if you did not cry.”
“But I did this to myself.”
“Nonetheless.”
“It’s not regret.”
“I know that, Leannah.”
He leaned down and he kissed her. It was a soft gesture, filled with comfort and reassurance, at first. His hands closed around her wrists, so he could stand her up and more easily wrap his arms around her. Leannah’s body softened instantly and she felt no reluctance at all when he pulled her close. The warm satin of her wrapper slipped sensuously against her as Harry cupped her face in his hands to hold her still while he continued the kiss.
She crossed her wrists around his shoulders and gave herself over to enjoyment. Time and worry melted away. When at last they broke apart, they were both breathless.
“We should see to your bandages,” murmured Harry, as his fingers toyed with her hair.
“Later.”
“It is not good to neglect such things.”
“Later.” How could he be even considering bandages, when they stood together like this, both practically naked? When she could clearly and wonderfully feel his growing arousal?
“But . . .”
What little patience Leannah still possessed ended at once. Before he could say another word, she claimed his mouth entirely with her own. She kissed him, heatedly, insistently. She leaned all her weight against him. Startled, Harry fell back against the table. She didn’t stop. She thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, and she crushed her whole body against his. He had called up her need with his teasing and his kisses and he must now deal with the consequences. She would insist upon it. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and her hips against his. He was hard, deliciously hard. She wanted him to feel how her nipples had tightened with her need. She would not permit any mistake in his understanding of how very much she wanted him.
To this end, she drew her fingertips across his belly until she found the edges of his dressing gown. She pushed open the silk. All the while, she kissed him, held him in place with the press of her body. She felt him bending back, giving way. She slipped her hands underneath his robe. She let her fingertips graze down his hips and his hard thighs, and dragged them back up again to brush his erection.
The touch of him—velvet and steel and heat—filled her with fresh anticipation. She caressed his shaft fondly, but lightly, and only with the tips of her fingers. She would give him no excuse to continue his nonsense about her bandages. Harry groaned long and low, as his member swelled, hot and eager for her. She pressed forward, bending him farther back, so she could rub him against her belly, against her mound. Harry pressed his palms onto the table, striving to keep his balance.
Remembering her own earlier wish to see him nude, Leannah swiftly unknotted his sash. The gray silk fell open, revealing his broad chest and lean legs, and his member, jutting up proudly from the tangle of dark curls.
She surged close again. She couldn’t help it. She had to hold him, dance her fingers along his exquisitely sensitive shaft. She gloried to see him let his head drop back as the pleasure her questing fingers brought robbed him of the strength to resist. She thought to kiss his member. She’d never done that particular thing, but knew it was done, and it seemed too delightfully wanton an impulse to resist.
She kissed his mouth first, and his stubbled chin. The rasp of it against her swollen lips only added to her excitement as she worked her way down past his jaw to his throat, and to his chest. She breathed in the scent of him, knowing it would arouse and entice her as surely as did the touch of his flesh. Her tongue found his flat, hard nipple and dabbed at it. It pebbled tight and hard and Harry hissed.
Leannah switched to his other nipple and set about pleasuring that as well. Only when she was sure it was as tight as she could make it, did she continue. With mouth and tongue she traced a line of wet heat down the center of his body, down to his navel, and lower.
“Leannah,” Harry croaked.
“Hmm?” Her cheek brushed the blunt, impudent tip of his member. It felt extremely odd, but delightful in its own way. She curled her fingers around his shaft to hold him where she wanted him.
“This table’s not going to stand it.”
“Oh, dear.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “What would you suggest?”
Nineteen
This woman was going to kill him. No one had ever been so quickly able to rouse him to desire or hold him at the pinnacle of his need. The butterfly brush of her questing hands against his member left him rock hard and burning. He gripped the table until his fingers hurt while she worked her wanton mouth against his throat, his chest, and—oh, God—his groin. His arms trembled, and the spindle-legged breakfast table trembled in answer.
Then she looked up at him with those incredible eyes and that wanton pout. All the while she kept hold of him, treating him to the most rousing and intimate of caresses. It was a wonder he didn’t spill himself right then and there.
But she was waiting. She didn’t move, didn’t straighten. She just held him, torturing him with her lustful eyes as much as her warm fingers.
With a groan that might have been laughter or supreme frustration, Harry clamped his hand
around her wrist and moved her hand away from him. Carefully. Keeping tight hold of her, he all but dragged her to the armchair. Positioning her in front of him, he lowered himself—again very carefully—onto the seat. He splayed his legs open so that she could see him, and what she had done to him. She looked—not shyly, but boldly, lingeringly. In fact, she feasted her eyes on him.
Harry would not have believed it possible for him to grow any harder, and yet he did.
“May I continue?” Leannah asked. He stared at her mouth as it shaped the words. With infinite grace, she knelt in front of him. “May I, Harry?”
He couldn’t speak. Language had fled him. He could only stare at her luscious pink mouth. She was going to wrap those lips around him. She was going to kiss and suck him. She wanted it. She wanted him.
Harry managed a nod.
Leannah curled her fingers around him. Her thumb found the groove on the underside of his shaft and stroked it, tentatively, almost thoughtfully, at least at first. His blood pulsed and his groin tightened. The pain of it mixed with the breathtaking pleasure of her touch. She bent her head. Her gorgeous hair cascaded forward, obscuring her face. Her lips—warm, sweet, and infinitely desirable—pressed against his shaft.
He groaned again. He was sure she was smiling beneath the curtain of her hair. He meant to reach out to brush it back, but Leannah ran her tongue down his shaft and volition fled. His hand gripped the chair arm instead. Her rough, wet tongue glided back up his most sensitive flesh and Harry managed a strangled chuckling sort of noise. He could imagine nothing better than this, that was until her lips wrapped around the tip of him, and her tongue dabbed him there.
Harry moaned. He had been pleasured by more expert and experienced women, but nothing they gave him could match the intensity of Leannah’s exploration of his body. The knowledge that she was discovering her own pleasure as much as his filled him with fresh fire. He was panting, he was groaning. She kissed him, she licked. Her throat made soft noises of enjoyment as she took him into her hands so she could hold him still, and take him more deeply into her hot mouth.