Sleeping Lord Beattie

by Em Taylor

  “Gideon, please…”

  He flicked his tongue hard over the distended nub of her nipple, making up for the reduced sensitivity through the wet cotton as his thumb worked the bud at the apex of her thighs, harder and quicker. She was moaning now with every thrust and Gideon was biting his lower lip. He was so hard and pained, but watching her strive for her own release was a pleasure in itself.

  When she splintered suddenly, she cried out his name, reaching her hand into his hair and grabbing it, hauling his head to her mouth for a hard and bruising kiss as she thrust against his fingers to ride out her release. For an innocent, she was not slow to demand what she required at the height of her pleasure.

  Gideon was pleased with this knowledge. It would mean that once she was more confident and informed, she would be an excellent bed partner. She jerked slightly against his ministrations and he revelled in the sensations he was still pulling from her. She was over sensitised. He would sell his soul to plunge into her warm, willing body right now. That said, were he to do just that he would probably lose his soul because he had promised her he would not. And he was an honourable man.

  His aching cock-stand would survive another night of unsated lust. His honour would never survive not just disappointing Emily, but losing her trust completely.

  “Oh my,” she gasped. “It is no wonder no one explains what happens in the bedchamber before marriage or no young lady would ever make it to her wedding day a virgin.” Her arm flailed onto the pillow beside her head. He wished he had lit a candle before climbing into bed. He would love to see her face properly now, flushed and bright. With one last swipe through her folds to gather some of her nectar, he raised his fingers to his mouth and sucked.

  “Gideon,” she wailed.

  “Yes, my love?” He was enjoying himself.

  “Your fingers. They were just on my… my…”

  “On your…?”

  Her lips thinned and her brows knit together. “You would make me say it, my lord?”

  “I was merely interested to know what word or phrase gently-bred young ladies of the ton use for their most intimate area.”

  “That would have been how I would have described it. Why? What would you have said?”

  “I would have used that exact phrase to you, my love.”

  “And among your gentlemen friends or to yourself?”

  “I would not sully your dainty little ears with such words, my lady.”

  He continued to lick her juices from his fingers and thumb. She tasted divine. Emily wrinkled her nose.

  “You should not do that, my lord.”

  “It is delicious. I cannot wait until I can spread your legs apart, put my head between your thighs and lick you. He opened his index and middle finger slightly and ran his tongue up the middle. Her jaw dropped. The little whimper she made sounded less than human.

  “You would do that?”

  “With pleasure and I believe you would enjoy it.”

  She frowned then pulled her into a sitting position. “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “What have I to do to you?”

  “Whatever you wish.”

  She shook her head.

  “That is not an adequate answer, my lord. You use your mouth down there,” she waved in the general direction of her hips, then gestured to his. “Do I use my mouth down there.”

  God, yes.

  “If you wish. If you do not wish to, I shall not force you.”

  “But, my lord…”

  “Emily, come and lie down. You will end up in a fit of the vapours.”

  “I want to be a good wife,” she said quietly.

  “You shall be. Devil take it, woman. It has taken every ounce of willpower not to make you mine tonight. For I promised you that, but you were so responsive and I ached to do it. You were perfect.”

  “I wish you had made me yours.”

  “I promised I would not and it would have been dishonourable to go back on my word. Now, go to sleep. You must be tired now.”

  “Will you stay with me until the storm has passed?”

  “I thought you had forgotten about the storm.”

  “No, but it does not frighten me as much with you here.”

  He snuggled her pert little bottom against his hard, aching cock and somehow, he did not mind that the storm still raging inside his body would likely not abate until long after the one outside had. His woman was content and already her breathing was slowing.

  Chapter 13

  “You were gone when I awoke this morning,” Emily said as he lifted the previous day’s paper and scanned the front page.

  “Yes, I was.” He did not sound like he was in the mood to talk.

  “I thought you would stay until I woke.”

  “I had something to do.” He sounded off-hand as if he was trying to avoid the subject.

  “Oh.”

  He laid the paper down and lifted his cup to his lips. She admired his crisp white cravat, so neatly tied, even without his valet.

  “We should be going soon. The weather is at least dry today. Of course, the roads will still be like a mire but at least the horses shall not get wet. They may not tire so easily.”

  “Of course. I…umm… I knocked on your door when I awoke. I could hear you in your room but you did not answer.”

  “I was busy.”

  “So busy you could not even answer?”

  “Yes, Emily. God dammit. Instead of waking you and pre-empting our wedding vows I removed myself from your bed. I was dealing with the problem when you knocked. Please just let me be. I’m trying to be honourable.”

  Emily was confused. He wanted to pre-empt their wedding vows. Well, she did understand that meant bedding her before the wedding—and not just what they had done the night before. What problem was he dealing with? He wanted her to leave him alone. What did he mean by that? Tears sprung to her eyes.

  “Are you abandoning me here, my lord? Last night… I was a loose woman. You are displeased with me.”

  Gideon’s brows knit together.

  “No, Emily. No. That is not it, and, of course, I would never abandon you. What sort of scoundrel do you take me for?” He was on his feet and pulling her up and into his embrace in an instant. “I was merely making sure I would be less… aroused in your company. I apologise for sounding annoyed with you. I find your directness a little disconcerting at times.”

  “My apologies, my lord. I shall try to do better. This morning when I woke up I thought you had perhaps realised your mistake.”

  “There has been no mistake, my lady. I would recreate last night every single night if I could. Now, finish your breakfast before I end up kissing you.”

  “That would be terrible, my lord.”

  “It would be if a maid walked in and I had my hand up your skirts.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks and she pulled away from him and sat down before pouring herself another cup of tea. When she chanced a glance over at Gideon, He was smiling as he read the newspaper.

  They had no longer settled in the carriage and the damned woman was demanding answers. Gideon was truly delighted with her, but he needed her to be his wife. He needed her to be less innocent so that when she was inquisitive he could explain things properly. He hated trying to dance around the subject matter in deference to her maidenly sensibilities.

  “You said you would explain what you were doing when you would not answer me this morning,” she began as soon as the carriage was trundling along the road. He closed his eyes and placed his head against the squabs. “Gideon?”

  He pulled her onto his lap, her facing side on and she made a startled yelping sound but he covered it with his mouth. She melted into the kiss easily enough and soon he had the buttons of her pelisse undone. His hands roamed her body before he stopped kissing her mouth, pressed his lips down the column of the throat and onto her décolletage. He pressed dainty kisses
just above the neckline of her gown. Of course, he was torturing himself as much as he was torturing Emily.

  He pushed a hand up her skirt and onto her thigh. It took almighty willpower not to push her legs apart and move his hands farther up to find his treasure, but his plan was to explain this to her.

  “How do you feel?” he asked at last.

  “Feel?”

  “Yes. How does your body feel?” He barely recognised the roughness of his own voice.

  She scowled. “All… tense, I suppose. As if I want to burst. I want to rub myself against you. Oh, that makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. You are aroused. Men feel similarly, but we get hard too.” He took her hand and pressed it to the fall of his breeches. Her fingers curled slightly around it and he groaned. He allowed himself a moment to rest his forehead in the crook of her neck and shoulder, just enjoy the feel of her hand around his shaft. Then he lifted her hand away and kissed her palm. “Sometimes the tension becomes unbearable and I feel the need to release it. Obviously when in polite company I cannot. It is like all urges, hunger, thirst, the need to visit the necessary. It can be controlled and it does go away, but eventually, it needs to be satiated. You were sated last night. I was not, so when I woke and was hard, I went into my room to resolve the problem.”

  “How?”

  He pressed a kiss to her lips until she opened for him and his tongue danced off hers for a brief moment. “So dashed curious,” he murmured against her lips. He pulled back and considered how to explain. “Well, I stroked you between your legs until I released the tension in your body. I did the same to myself. I stroked my… shaft until I released the tension in my body.”

  She licked her lips and Gideon closed his eyes. He did not need his mind going down that path right now. “You could not have done it last night?”

  He shrugged. “I could have, but I did not want to confuse matters and it seemed ungentlemanly to take my own pleasure after having found so much pleasure in watching you.”

  She sighed and leaned her temple against his forehead. “I would not have minded.”

  “Perhaps not but I wanted you to sleep so you were properly rested.”

  They sat for long moments as she seemed to be contemplating the view out of the carriage window. Gideon ran his hands up and down her leg, toying with the bow of her garter ribbon. It should be erotic but it was actually soothing.

  “Part of me thinks I should feel shame for what happened last night. I am not married and yet I let you touch me in the most intimate of places. I let you share a bed with me and now I sit on your lap like a courtesan.”

  “You are no courtesan,” he growled. How dare she compare herself to a prostitute just because she had deigned to experience pleasure the previous night and was enjoying his touch now. They were to all intents and purposes married. The only reason they were not yet married was that Scotland was so damned far away and the weather was so atrocious.

  “No, I am not but it is still the case that my behaviour is not becoming of an innocent.”

  “You shall not be an innocent for long, my lady. As soon as I have you over that border, you shall be my viscountess and you shall have my name. I apologise if anything I have done has made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “No, please do not say that. I did not finish my thought. Part of me thinks that, and part of me is enjoying the new experiences and looks forward with anticipation to all the other things you have to teach me.”

  “I did not think I would ever enjoy being a young lady’s governess, my lady, but I shall enjoy instructing you.”

  This time it was she who captured his mouth in a kiss. A quick study indeed. Before the exchange could get any more heated, he moved her from his lap. He had to remain sane and he would not do that if the luscious creature continued to sit on his lap. Carriages were just not made for deflowering innocent young ladies—even if they did seem quite eager.

  Two days after Lord Beattie had explained to Emily what he had been doing in his own bedchamber in the inn the morning after the storm, she was beginning to feel, well, frustrated was the only word she could think to use. He had given her the odd peck on the lips, but nothing more. He had been the perfect gentleman. Of course, they were still four days away from Scotland assuming everything went well, and today was Sunday.

  If truth be told, Emily had not been entirely happy with the idea of travelling on a Sunday but she had already eloped, shared a bed with a man before her wedding. Let him touch her there, and so how much worse was travelling after they had been to church? The Viscount promised her that not travelling on a Sunday was a man-made rule rather than a rule from God. He had said Jesus would get annoyed at Pharisees who tried to stick to the rules so strictly, that there was no room for manoeuvre in emergency situations like now.

  When she had inquired how he knew so much, he had explained that he had originally been studying theology at Oxford, but when his older brother died of a fever, he’d had to give up his plans of becoming a vicar and change the subjects he was reading at university.

  She had not realised he’d had an older brother, but then, she was not like some of the young ladies of the ton, who had Debrett’s memorised.

  They had spent their evening playing cards, their days in the carriage reading and having the odd conversation. Emily very much wanted to invite him back into her bed but she could not very well do that now, could she?

  She gazed out the window at the landscape. It seemed to be miles and miles of country all around. She needed to visit the necessary.

  “Do you know how far it is until we reach the next inn?”

  He did not look up from his book. “No.”

  “Would you mind asking the coachman to stop at the next inn if we are not stopping to rest the horses?”

  He looked up this time and removed his spectacles to look at her. He only wore them when reading. “Are you well.”

  “Quite well. I need to… ahem…”

  “Oh, I see. Do you have your courses?”

  She was aghast.

  “No.”

  “How urgently do you need to stop?” She grimaced as the carriage jostled over a rut in the road. “I see.”

  He pulled down the window and called to the coachman.

  “Denholm,” he called.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “How far to the next inn.”

  “Three, maybe four mile, milord.”

  “Damn. If you find a clump of trees, and a place to pull in, just do it.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “In the trees?” Emily squeaked.

  “You can wet the seat if you like,” Gideon said. “But it will start to smell after a few hours. However, in the trees, I shall be with you to make sure you come to no harm from bandits and the trees will cover you against peeping toms.”

  “I do not want you seeing me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Really Emily. It is a natural bodily function. I may take the opportunity myself once we are out of the carriage. We are also going to be man and wife soon.”

  “For all the good that has done me these past two nights,” she muttered.

  “What the devil, is that supposed to mean?”

  Had he heard her? Oh dear. He had been right about her voice being too loud.

  Luckily the coach was slowing and pulling in to the side of the road, there seemed to be a veritable forest on their left-hand side. As soon as the stable hand let down the step, Emily climbed out of the carriage and was hurrying into the woods.

  “Emily come back.” She wondered why Gideon was so tardy but she would not look back. She was not waiting around for him—brute that he was. She weaved her way for a hundred yards or so until it started to get very gloomy and a little eerie. There was no rain now, just the odd big plop of rainwater which had gathered as it made its way through the large canopy of green leaves. She shivered.

  “Bloody woman. You should ha
ve waited for me. I needed to get my pistol. You do not know who or what you shall meet in these woods. He tucked his pistol into the back of his breeches and grabbed her by both arms, pulling her against his broad chest. “You are a stubborn woman, Lady Emily.

  “And you are a brute, Lord Beattie.”

  “You didn’t think me a brute when you reached the pinnacle of pleasure the night of the storm.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but he took advantage and pressed his mouth to hers. It wasn’t the brutal kiss she might have expected when he was angry with her. Instead, it was coaxing, teasing, playful.

  “Never think I do not want you because I am honouring you, my lady. Damn, kissing you was a bad idea when I was planning to pay a visit myself. Be good now and go behind that bush and do what you have to do.”

  She nodded dumbly. Kissing her was a bad idea? How debasing.

  She hurried around the bush and found a decent place to lift her skirts and squat. It was terribly unladylike but she’d done this a few times when she had been out on walks and been caught short. Gideon seemed to be muttering to himself for a moment or two and possibly pacing. A couple of twigs snapped behind her which she was sure was him.

  Once she was finished she rounded the other side of the bush. He appeared to be standing to look at a tree. She walked nearer to look at his face and glanced down. Oh of course. She had seen her brother when he was young going against trees and walls. How foolish. Gideon scowled at her. He looked ferocious.

  Her cheeks blazed as she hurried away. How utterly mortifying. She broke into a run. She must have looked so priggish, just standing there looking at him emptying his bladder. She would never be able to look him in the eye again, never mind marry him. What must he think of her? Why could she never get anything right?

  She was vaguely aware of him calling her name but she did not stop. She kept running. Running away from the absolute humiliation of having to see him again. Not that she had a plan. She never had a plan. Her breaths were coming in heaving gasps.