“I hope to God this goes better than the other night.” He fumbled with the buttons at the front of his trousers, shoved the panel out of the way and then he gripped her hips, fitting his tip to her ready opening.
“It already has.” Sarah trembled, for it was much like the first time with him. She didn’t consider her wedding night as proper intercourse. Due to the limited space on the sofa, she couldn’t maneuver as much as she would like, so she wrapped her legs about his waist.
A groan escaped him, and he held himself above her, one forearm resting on the bolster pillow near her head. Andrew thrust into her, penetrated her as deep as he could go, and then he paused, presumably to give her time to acclimate. “Bloody hell, Sarah. You’re so tight, feel so wonderful.”
She could hardly breathe, so different was this experience from her first with him. His thick length filled her; the heat of him was intoxicating. She squirmed beneath him as he adjusted his angle over her body, and when he began to move, leaning over her, she gasped from the feelings. With every easy, teasing stroke, hot, tingling sensations assailed her. There wasn’t anywhere on her body that didn’t feel him, for he was in her, a part of her, and she of him.
When he grinned, the gesture held such innocence and cocksure confidence, that she lost a tiny piece of her heart to him.
It was all new and oh-so-amazing. Sarah looped her arms around his shoulders, held him close to her by tightening her crossed ankles at the small of his back, and closed her eyes to fully immerse herself in the wonder of him. He thrust into her body, slowly at first, rocking them both in a rhythm as old as time. As he drove deeper, his strokes grew faster, more frantic, and her breath caught. Need coiled tight in her lower belly. Desire hummed through her blood, heated her skin until she writhed, chasing something that eluded her.
Why wouldn’t this terrible, exquisite pressure break?
“I can’t… I don’t know how…”
“Shh.” He kissed her forehead and slowed the movement of his hips. As he delved a hand between their bodies and he found that swollen, all-important bud at the center of her pleasure, a cry of surprise escaped her throat.
“What are you…?” He’d not touched her there on their wedding night, but oh, it was such bliss! The faster he worried his finger over that button, the more she tumbled into a dizzying spiral of colorful bliss. How did one survive this? He added more friction; her hold on control fractured, then finally split wide open, and she fell… down, down, down into heated pleasure that caught her up in its storm. “Andrew!”
“That, my girl, is but one release I’ll give you.” He chuckled, his eyes dark with desire and glowing with masculine smugness, then he dug his fingers into her hips, grunting, and he drove into her as her channel spasmed, his hips moving so fast, his shaft going so deep into her core she was sure he attempted to touch her soul. His eyes bored into hers, a need buried in the backs she felt more than understood.
Something spiritual passed between them, a warmth of sorts that spun a web and connected them from that moment onward. And she sighed with the precious loveliness of it.
No, one didn’t survive this feeling that made her soar. One merely rode the tide and let it consume them. Sarah’s moans blended with his. She held onto him, kissing whatever part of him she could reach, touching and teasing his body the best she knew how while lifting her hips and matching his rhythm. He was powerful and strong, much like he was in other aspects of his life, but with her, in this intimate dance, he was also tender and caring, seeing to her needs. It was enough to send tears prickling her closed eyelids.
All too soon she shattered. Perhaps that wasn’t the correct term for what happened to her. She fractured, broke apart, was sent flying on the wings of overwhelming pleasure and heat. It was all she could do to remain sane and hold onto him. His name left her tongue, over and over like a litany. The hysterical sound of it keened through the room until he kissed her hard and long, taking it into himself.
With another powerful thrust, he grunted against her lips, ground his hips into hers. The hot expulsion of his seed filled her passage, and he stroked once more then collapsed on top of her. Strong contractions pulsed through her core, around his shaft, her heartbeat racing. The release was so grand and different that she burst into tears.
When she buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, she sobbed; her body shook from reaction and the exquisite act they’d just shared.
“You’re crying.” His breathing was ragged in her ears. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” The concern in his baritone tugged at her heart, and another piece of it went into his keeping.
“No. These are happy tears. I think.” Her laugh was a touch unstable, but she kept her face hidden, for he smelled wonderful, of limes and spices and man. “That was so… I can’t explain how I feel.”
“Then I did it right.” Andrew wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “You were amazing,” he whispered and pressed his lips to her temple. Every tiny movement he made sent a host of tingles dancing down her spine.
“I quite agree with that sentiment.” Her heartbeat raced wildly, matching his that thudded beneath her ear. Eventually, she came back to Earth and was quite content to remain tucked in his arms. After two weeks of married life, she finally had a real husband.
Tears filled her eyes again, this time of gratitude. Dear God, but she hoped this newfound closeness lasted.
Chapter Sixteen
For the first time in his adult existence, Drew felt content. The session with Sarah had ended a half hour ago. Now, after dressing himself and putting his clothes to rights, as well as assisting her with her gown, he sat in a comfortable wing backed chair with his wife on his lap, her knees hooked over an armrest, a crocheted blanket covering them both, for the rain-cooled air wafting in from the windows had brought a slight chill to the room.
A pleasant lethargy weighted his limbs. Sarah rested her head on his chest, the candlelight winking off her spectacle lenses as well as the silver locket about her neck. She was warm and right in his arms, and she’d been exceedingly wonderful as they’d shared the greatest intimacy. Every sound she’d made, each movement of her body, the delight she’d shown when he’d sent her over the edge of pleasure, all the smiles and touches she’d bestowed upon him had driven him closer to something he’d never experienced—peace. When they’d made love together, the storms within him had calmed for a time, and during that respite, the walls around his heart had crumbled. He’d lost a piece of that organ to her, willfully let her peer into his soul and take up housekeeping if she wished it.
And still there was an overwhelming sense of peace long after the initial euphoria of the joining had ended.
How remarkable.
As he sat there in the quiet, listening to the sound of Sarah’s soft breathing as she dozed in and out of consciousness, his chest tightened, but not from anxiety or anger. Of course, the worry about the future lingered, for he was responsible for her care, but it didn’t attempt to crush him as before. No, what he felt was… shock. Surely, he couldn’t be falling for his wife. But what else could such profound serenity mean? Especially when he’d not had that before in his life. It wasn’t until the arrival of this one remarkable woman that he’d begun to… change.
It had only been one week, but he hadn’t had cause to let anger rage uncontrolled. And with a few of her suggestions, his anxiety had been kept at bay. Would he be able to continue down that path for the rest of his life? He hoped so, for this halcyon time with Sarah was infinitely valuable, and he’d be the biggest nodcock to let it slip through his fingers.
Daring much, he pressed his lips to her hair and glanced across the room to where her flute rested. The sheet music resting on the stand flapped anemically in the slight breeze. If it were within his power, he would help her meet those dreams she had of playing in London in whatever capacity she was comfortable with. She was a natural with music, and he shouldn’t act selfish and keep her gift all to himself.
The world would benefit from her talent.
As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Sarah stirred. She glanced up into his face. The soft smile she bestowed tugged at his heart. What would it take for him to see that every damned day from this moment on? “I’m surprised you didn’t leave me on the sofa and let me rest.” Sleep made her voice smoky and sensual. Renewed awareness shivered down his shaft.
“And miss this chance?” Drew adjusted his hold on her. “It’s no difficulty.” He touched a finger to her locket. “Will you tell me about your family? Above and beyond your great uncle?” The woman in his arms had never failed to astound him, and he wanted to know everything about her.
Her eyes widened behind her spectacle lenses. “Do you truly wish that?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Had her eyes always been as deep and unfathomable as drinking chocolate? The tiny golden flecks made him want to explore further. “What do you keep inside the locket?”
“My parents.” With trembling hands, she opened the oval piece of jewelry and then turned it so he could see the miniature paintings, each an inch high. “I have Mama’s looks. As a young girl, I was envious of her golden hair and used to imagine myself with tresses like that in a storybook.”
“But your hair is equally as wonderful,” he protested with a laugh.
“Ah, but Mama had strands of strawberry and the faintest platinum threads.” She touched her mother’s portrait with a fingertip. “While my father was brilliant at business and striking a bargain, Mama’s gift was making connections. She had a magnetic personality that made people want to gravitate around her.” A soft smile curved her lips. “Many of my father’s business deals came about because Mama had laid that groundwork ahead of time.”
“Who were her people?”
“She was the daughter of a merchant who made and sold ladies’ fans. Some of his ivory work was masterful. That’s how she met my father. He’d come into the shop with a delivery for my grandfather. I think they fell in love at first sight.”
Drew glanced at the tiny portrait of her father. A rather handsome man with dark brown hair and a pair of small, round spectacles in silver frames. “You inherited your poor eyesight from him?”
“Oh, yes.” Sarah chuckled as she closed the locket with a soft click. “Without them, I can’t see past the end of my nose. The world looks mostly like large blobs of color.” She talked of her parents with such fondness in her voice, a touch of jealousy stabbed through him.
“Were you devastated when you lost them?” Somehow, he couldn’t imagine his plain-speaking, optimistic Sarah as floundering in grief.
For long moments she remained silent as emotions flitted through her eyes. Finally, she nodded. “I was inconsolable for days after I received the news. And with no other family readily available, let alone close friends, I had no one to turn to, no one to console me.” Her chin trembled, and he held her a little closer. “I was lost and alone.”
“As you’ve told me on a previous occasion, you are no longer that.” He suddenly wanted to be her anchor when chaos swirled around her.
“There is a certain comfort in that.” She rested a hand on his chest. “You have no idea how frightening it was when I realized I had no one in my life, and beyond that, nowhere to go. Papa didn’t leave a fortune or anything like that. I sold much of our possessions to pay for the rents and other obligations.” She drew abstract designs on his jacket lapel. “I had no idea what to do or where to turn, but I had no time to grieve as I’d wished.”
“You needed to survive.” A woman alone in the world wasn’t afforded many options, and all too many of them ended up as prostitutes to see themselves fed. “How did you discover your great uncle?”
“My father had spoken of him a few times over the years. Once, we visited him in Derbyshire at Christmastide.” She shrugged and her wandering fingers traced the ruby stickpin in the folds of his cravat. “I took the remaining coin that I had, packed my clothes and a few personal items, and booked a spot on the mail coach, intending to throw myself upon his goodwill and doorstep. If he refused me entry, I can’t imagine what would have become of me.”
There were too many unscrupulous men prowling about that she might have found herself confronted with one of them. He gave into a shiver. A thread of gratitude went through him that he’d discovered her when he had, else she’d face a similar decision in another ten years. “You’re here now and never need worry over your future.” Warmth surged into his being, for it gave him immense pleasure to say that.
“You’re a good man.” She tapped the ruby with a fingernail. “Tell me the significance of this. Not a day goes by that you don’t wear it.”
Dread coiled, cool and dark, in his gut.
Never had he shared the reasoning behind the pin with anyone, not even Barton. Instinct told him to retreat, recoil from potentially opening himself up to pain and censure, but Sarah put a palm to his cheek, turned his head until their gazes connected, and it helped him to find balance.
“Don’t go backward. Your path doesn’t point there.” Affection reflected in her eyes, and he reeled from the discovery. Was she coming to care for him despite the obstacles they’d already passed? “Share with me. It’s what a married couple does.”
As if the old feelings had been shot from a cannon and into his chest, they all came hurtling back, stacking upon each other, twisting his insides, reaching out bony fingers in the hopes of strangling him. Drew took a few deep breaths. He briefly closed his eyes to quiet the storm brewing in his chest. When the rapid beat of his heart reminded him that he was alive and with her, he opened his eyes, touched the stickpin.
“I chose the ruby to represent the blood shed on those faraway battlefields that damaged my brothers.” He stared into her eyes, wished he could dive into those welcoming pools and escape the hurt and anger that lurked, waiting for him to lose control. “It was my fault they went away, my fault their lives have been upended and ruined.”
“Oh, Andrew, you didn’t send them into battle.” Sarah took his left hand and held it. “Why would you think that?”
“My temper made them flee. My arrogance sent them away.” The admission felt yanked from his very soul. “I maintained that they were cowards for not staying in London when they knew Father’s health was fragile, but they went anyway, with Father’s blessing.”
“Which did nothing to soothe your hurts.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his forefinger while long-stoppered emotions roiled in his chest. “Tell me about your brothers. What were they like before they went to war?”
That wasn’t such a bad request. He concentrated on keeping his anger and anxiety in the background, but he clung to her hand all the same. “Finn is my middle brother. He’s smart and had a great sense of humor before…” As hot saliva rose in his throat, Drew forced a hard swallow. “I think if he’d had his druthers, he would have made a career in the military. Attained the rank of major by the time he came home. He’s very organized and scheduled and would have made a brilliant estate foreman. His ideas to modernize Father’s holdings—my holdings now I suppose—are full of potential, but now that he’s confined to a Bath chair…”
His words trailed off, for what else was there to say?
“Do you assume the spirit of the man he was has suddenly left him due to his injury?” She lifted an eyebrow and pushed her spectacles into place with her free hand. “Don’t count your brother out merely because you perceive him as weak and helpless. Everyone has hidden strength that will show itself when needed.”
“I know a fat lot more about it than you, I’ll wager,” he snapped, then was immediately contrite when her eyes widened. “I apologize. Old habits.”
“It’s a constant battle. Only you can decide which emotion you’d like to win and portray to the world.” She threaded their fingers together. “Rise above what happened to you.” A firm note of the governess she used to be rang in her voice.
“I’m trying
,” he admitted in a whisper. It would take more than promises, and he’d need to remain vigilant. The slip had brought the reality of his situation rushing home that despite this last pleasant week, he was in danger of losing her if he couldn’t curb his anger.
“What of your other brother?” Sarah hadn’t moved, nor had she dropped his hand, for which he was thankful. It meant he hadn’t yet crossed a line.
“Brand.” He chuckled. “The baby of the family, the boy my parents had no expectations of.” His chest tightened as jealousy reared its ugly head, but he refused to acknowledge it. “Before he went into the Navy, he made a career of spending Father’s coin and making a reputation as a rake within the ton.”
An amused smile curved her lips, and for a few minutes, he distracted himself by indulging in a series of slow kisses he hoped had her well on her way to being lost. Once he pulled away, she laughed but it was decidedly shaky. “Is your brother still a rake?” She pushed her spectacles back into place.
Ah, she was smart and wouldn’t let a few kisses remove her from the conversation at hand. Drew settled her more comfortably on his lap. “When his exploits became too much for Father, there was an ultimatum issued: bring himself to respectability or join the Navy. I made rather an arse of myself backing up the claim. Brand went away, and gladly, and apparently, he found his place in the world while there. Rose up the ranks as quickly as Finn did.”
“But he was injured as well?”
“Yes.” Familiar anxiety squeezed his chest. He spent a few seconds concentrating on his breathing, watching Sarah as she studied him, and he hoped to God keeping himself in check would last. When the discomfort eased, he let out a shuddering sigh. “Lost his left eye in hand-to-hand combat aboard his ship. He’s due to arrive home in London soon, but knowing Brand, he’ll return to his rakish ways.” And it would be Drew’s responsibility to make him respectable.
The Soul of a Storme Page 19