Earl of Oakhurst

by Madeline Martin

  He understood her unease and sought to comfort her.

  Once the attention finally faded away, she was left to join the ladies who were eagerly awaiting her company, just as a cluster of men clearly waited on him. At least without James at her side, Penelope would be able to breathe again. Think again.

  He stole all her senses when he was near. Consumed them. Held them with rapt need.

  “I would like yer first dance,” he said in a low voice. “Before the other men try to steal ye away.”

  Penelope chuckled. The men of the ton had given up on her long ago. She was too odd a young woman, her passion for medicine confusing and strange and entirely off-putting. “I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  His gaze flicked down her body. It was quick enough that others most likely would not notice, but it blazed with an intent that scorched through her. “I’m sure I do.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Very well, but only the first set. The others, I shall have to beat men back with lengthy dissertations on the art of medicine. I’ve found that works rather well.”

  His mouth eased into a relaxed smile and it struck her again how handsome he was. “Save yer speech on gout for me.”

  “Only the best for you.” She tossed him a coy smile and with that, she swept away toward her mother and sister, who stood with James’s grandmother.

  “Darling, you look so happy.” Lady Bursbury embraced Penelope and enveloped her in the sweet, powdery scent she’d always associated with her mother. “And lovely. That gown suits you so very well. I do hope you’ve been enjoying my presents.” Her mother tilted her head and smiled in such a way that made Penelope immediately wary.

  “I helped with their placement,” the Dowager Lady Oakhurst said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Their…placement?

  “The gown is lovely,” Penelope said slowly.

  “Oh.” Lady Bursbury shared a conspiratorial glance with James’s grandmother. “Yes, well, there are several more presents. I supposed you will find them in good time.”

  Eugenia grabbed Penelope’s hand before she could ask more. “When I am wed,” Eugenia confided in a soft voice, “I want my husband to look at me as Lord Oakhurst looks at you now.”

  Penelope opened her mouth to protest even as she glanced across the room. She immediately located James without effort and discovered he was indeed staring at her. He didn’t look away when he realized he’d been caught, but instead offered her a cocky half grin and returned his attention to Lord Kendal.

  There was an arrogance in that grin, one she’d always hated in others. And yet in James, she found it—as she found a surprising number of things with him—appealing.

  But then, she was beginning to learn James was not like other men of the ton.

  MacKenzie let his gaze slip back to Penelope the moment she wasn’t looking. He’d never enjoyed attending balls, or any English social function for that matter. Anywhere that his Scottish accent made him stand out like—a smile pulled at his lips—like a gouty toe.

  “I presume marriage is treating you kindly,” Kendal drawled.

  The earl watched MacKenzie with a bemused expression. He pushed a brandy into MacKenzie’s empty hand.

  MacKenzie accepted the drink with thanks. “Why do ye say that?”

  “I dare say you were smiling just now,” Kendal offered dryly. “That, and the way your new wife is looking at you at this very moment.”

  MacKenzie’s stare flicked back in her direction to find her watching him. She flushed in the lovely way she did and quickly turned away, leaving Kendal chortling into his glass of brandy.

  “How did you do it?” Kendal asked with a raised brow. “When she first came out, I think every man in London sought to court her at some point. Except me, of course.” He lifted the corners of his mouth roguishly.

  Dancers were beginning to gather on the dance floor for the opening set, the one Penelope had promised to him. “I promised not to love her.”

  He pushed his glass back into Kendal’s free hand and ignored his friend’s confused look as he sought out Penelope. She was standing beside her mother and Gemma, both of whom wore gleeful expressions.

  * * *

  “The first dance will be the waltz,” Lady Bursbury practically sang out her announcement to him.

  Of course, it would be the waltz.

  He offered his arm to Penelope and led her to the dance floor.

  “I apologize for my mother,” she said softly.

  “And I apologize for my grandmother.” He took Penelope in his arms for the start of the dance. “I also apologize for how badly I want this ball to be over.”

  The music began and soared over the hum of conversation.

  “Don’t,” Penelope said softly. “At least not to me. I want it to be over too.”

  She was petite and graceful in his arms, pressed close to his body, as he managed his way around the ballroom. It was hard not to let his hands linger too long when he wanted to skim his palms over the various intriguing parts of her body.

  His blood ran hotter than it ever had during a dance and, much to his great discomfort, his cock began responding to Penelope’s nearness. He gazed down into her wide blue eyes and kept himself from glancing at her lips.

  “Talk to me about gout,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Is your grandmother’s toe bothering her again?” Concern puckered at Penelope’s brow.

  “I am…in terrible need of distraction.” He spun her in front of him, grateful for the way she blocked his body with her own as he did so. Once she was in front of him once more, he spoke quietly into her ear. “In yer words, I’ve found myself quite aroused.”

  “Oh.” The word purred from her in a way that certainly did not help matters.

  He held her closer as they twirled together. Their pelvises met briefly, and he caught her soft intake of breath. “Oh,” she repeated again, clearly feeling him pressed to her.

  “That isna helping,” he said in a droll tone.

  She laughed, though the comment had been offered without amusement.

  “Gout,” he demanded.

  “Very well.” She smiled up at him, spun around for the dance and said, “The initial stages appear on the foot with reddened, inflamed skin around the metatarsal-phalangeal joint of the large toe.”

  He nodded. “Keep going.”

  “The pain stems from crystals growing under the skin in the form of sharp spikes,” she continued.

  He almost missed a step. “Good God.”

  “Is this helping?” she asked with a coy smile.

  “Aye, so long as ye dinna keep looking at me like that.” He led her through the dance, his body no longer hard, what with thoughts of sharp crystals forming inside a foot. And how terribly it must hurt poor Gemma.

  “I want to know more too,” she said.

  “About gout?” He raised a brow.

  “About your particular interests.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “History.”

  “Do tell me more.” Did she have to give him such a coquettish smile?

  History. Now there was a topic he could use his mind for rather than imagining Penelope stripped naked and in his arms with pink-tipped breasts and—

  “Greek history especially,” he said with determination. “I enjoy that most of all.”

  “I should like to hear more.” Her cheeks reddened. “I find I too am—”

  “No. Dinna say it.”

  She laughed again, a sweet sound he wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

  “Did ye know the word ‘idiot’ had its origins in ancient Greece?” He lifted a brow.

  Her eyes twinkled in a rather becoming manner. “I did not.”

  “It referred to someone who dinna bother with politics.”

  They both had a good chuckle at that. Thanks to the discussion of history and gout, they made it through the waltz. In fact, discussions of apoplexy, dropsy, Greek mythology and of course, the Elgin Marbles
carried them into a lively country dance later that evening and even a supper with far too many courses.

  In preventing the burn of lust from scorching his veins, MacKenzie realized he’d learned quite a bit about the medical field in which Penelope had devoted so much of her life. And that she seemed genuinely interested in what he knew of history.

  After they had eaten, Gemma approached him, her face weary. “Forgive me, James, but I fear I can’t stay up as late as I once did. The two of you can remain longer, of course. I’ll send the carriage back round—”

  “No,” both MacKenzie and Penelope answered at once.

  “That isn’t necessary,” Penelope quickly added. “I expect to get a reply from Dr. Cooper sometime tomorrow, welcoming me back to St. Thomas’s. I ought to get a good amount of rest in anticipation of such a busy day.”

  MacKenzie sent his man to go collect the carriage. “And I’ve got a letter from Mr. Barclay to attend to, as well as a meeting with parliamentary session I cannot miss tomorrow.”

  “Ah.” Gemma nodded and gave them a look that was more knowing than anyone ever wanted to receive from their grandmother.

  Lady Bursbury was not at all disappointed at their early departure either, most likely expecting it, given Penelope’s dislike for social events. Except that she too had a glint in her eye.

  It was enough to drive a man to distraction, were he not already incredibly, wonderfully distracted. Especially when the carriage arrived more swiftly than anticipated, delivered them home without issue and Gemma promptly bid them both goodnight without preamble.

  And finally, they were left completely, blissfully alone.

  9

  Penelope’s whole being flooded with nervous excitement as she met James’s eyes.

  He had loosened his cravat, revealing the muscles of his neck beneath. “Shall we retire, Lady Oakhurst?” he asked, his voice silky with implication.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He stared at her for a long moment as though he meant to kiss her where she stood. Instead, he offered her his arm, which she accepted with a trembling hand. Together they made their way up the stairs, formal and without speaking. Every part of Penelope hummed with energy, with anticipation and raw, primal need.

  Once they reached the landing, she hesitated, uncertain if they ought to go to his chamber or hers. She hadn’t bothered to ask about the etiquette of such things but had advised her maid she would not require her assistance that evening, regardless. In the end, Penelope let him lead her in the direction of her own chamber.

  With the immaculate manners of a gentleman, James opened the door to her room and allowed her to enter before him. But when he closed the door behind him, formality ended.

  “Penelope.” He groaned her name with his wonderful brogue and pulled her into his arms.

  Their mouths clashed against one another’s in a desperate, frantic kiss that only served to flood more arousal into Penelope’s system. James’s hands went to her body, moving over her, feeling her through the lovely white gown, and he was not the only one touching.

  Penelope ran her fingers over his chest and boldly skimmed over his torso, learning his shape from beneath the superfine wool of his coat and the silk of his green waistcoat. His heartbeat thundered in wild, pounding beats that matched hers as it roared in her ears.

  “I want ye so bloody bad,” he growled into her mouth.

  She wanted to reply in kind, to tell him how she’d spent the entire day dying for this moment to arrive. Except at that exact moment, he eased his thigh between hers, grinding their bodies together. Friction—delightful, exquisite friction—teased at her core, easing the ache as much as encouraging it. If her mind were not so taken with lust, she might have pondered over her curious response more.

  Except with James, there was not room for thought. Not in moments such as this.

  He gripped her gown with his hand, slowly lifting the hem to reveal first her stockings, then her pale thighs showing just above them. His fingertips brushed the inside of her knee, where he’d touched her in the carriage. Penelope kept her attention fixed intensely on him, wanting the sweep of his fingers to shift higher, to the place that burned with need.

  He did not disappoint.

  Higher and higher he worked his fingers, until Penelope thought she might die from wanting. At long last, his caress brushed over the intimate, intensely sensitive place between her legs. Her legs buckled at first contact.

  James grinned as he caught her and held her upright. “Do ye like that?” he whispered.

  She nodded, not daring to trust herself to speak.

  “Do ye want more of it?”

  She nodded again, emphatically this time.

  He chuckled and his hand moved over her once more, another wave of euphoria rolling through her. On and on he went, gliding over her wetness, encouraging her arousal further. Merciful heavens, probing inside of her with his finger and touching the apex of her sex where the small bud was swollen and desperate for attention.

  Just when she thought she might actually explode, he withdrew his hand. Her skirt fell back into place and she whimpered her disappointment. His mouth found hers, kissing her deeply, almost aggressive with passion. He worked at the back of her dress, blindly undoing the small buttons as she shoved his tailcoat to the ground and made her own progress with the buttons of his waistcoat.

  Clothing was untied, unbuttoned, unlaced and pushed aside with eagerness until there was only her shift and his pantaloons and shirt remaining. He tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a body carved with muscle. A light dusting of black hair sprinkled over his chest and a trail of it disappeared into the waistline of his pants.

  She returned her gaze to his torso once more, taking all of him in. He was beautiful. Powerful. Her hands itched to run over the cut lines of his torso and glide her fingers down that enticing line of hair on his banded lower stomach. Their breathing was heavy and filled the silence of the room, a sound she never would have realized would be so intimate.

  “I want to see ye with yer hair down,” he said in that low, sensual tone.

  It was such an unexpected and simple request that Penelope’s hands immediately went to her hair and pulled first the dainty bundle of gems and feathers, then slipped the pins free. She gathered them in her palm until there were too many to hold and let them slip to the ground with tinkling plinks and plops. The coiled curls fell around her shoulders and the sweet perfume of her rose water emanated from her auburn waves.

  James groaned and combed his hands through her tresses. She closed her eyes against the pleasure of it, reveling in the tingles across her scalp. He breathed in deep, as though savoring the scent of her.

  “I want to see all of ye,” he said on an exhale in her ear. His breath was spicy and alluring as it caressed the delicate skin of her neck. “Penelope.”

  Her heartbeat thrummed a little faster at the manner in which he said her name. She lifted the edge of her shift and drew it over her head.

  James uttered a curse. She slowly elevated her gaze up to him, shy despite the force of her longing. He stared at her unabashedly, lust evident in the brightness of his eyes.

  She reached for the fastenings of his fall and undid them. His erection sprang out at only three loosened buttons. The thing was bigger than large. It was massive.

  She gasped in shock. “I thought…”

  He lifted his brows.

  “I thought it would be the size of a thumb,” she admitted weakly.

  He smirked. “I daresay that’s rather insulting.”

  “But it’s not.” Penelope gaped at the thing. “It’s enormous.” Of course, she knew a woman’s opening was made to allow for a babe to pass through, but goodness! She had not anticipated a man’s organ could swell to such proportions.

  “Well now, that’s better.” He grinned, an arrogant quirk of his lips and undid the rest of his buttons before pushing his pants from his waist. He pulled her into his arms, naked skin aga
inst naked skin. The thickness of his considerable organ rested heavy and hot against her stomach.

  James held her face in his hands and kissed her, tender and chaste at first, then stroking her tongue with his, deepening the kiss until she was panting with desire once more.

  He took her hand and guided it toward his enormous erection. She did not draw away, especially not when his own fingers went back to her sex. If his ministrations made her senses unfurl, doubtless her own attempts would feel equally as blissful on him. She ran her hand over his shaft. It was hard as though it contained a bone, which she knew it did not, but the skin was silky and hot and altogether far too tantalizing.

  He gave a shuddering breath.

  “Do you like that?” she whispered as he’d done with her.

  He smiled between their kisses. “Ach, aye.”

  With his free hand, he curled her hand around him. The tick of his pulse was powerful there as his penis practically leapt with each beat of his heart. She slid over him until she reached the tip, which had a bulbous head that was decidedly less firm than the shaft, almost spongy. Her fingers worked over it in exploration and he groaned low and deep.

  Fascinating.

  He eased a finger inside of her at that exact moment and found the bud of her sex with the heel of his hand. All musings came to a crashing halt in her mind as lust prevailed and her hips bucked reflexively toward his hand.

  He withdrew his touch once more and swept her into his arms. She gasped in surprise, which made him grin as he carried her to the bed and lay her upon it. Her heart thundered in her chest, wild with excitement…and a note of consternation.

  He climbed onto the bed and hovered over her, naked, the heat of his manhood laying against her stomach. As if sensing her virginal hesitation, he kissed her again and slipped a finger inside her. With gentle care, he moved the digit in and out, tenderly stretching and teasing until she writhed on the bed, wanting more, needing him to touch that bud between her legs again. All her focus was on the gradual build of pleasure, so that she scarcely noticed him crawling lower, spreading her thighs further apart, his head lowering.