Boundless (The Shaws)

by Lynne Connolly

  She dropped her attempt at a smile and let her face fall into a more natural expression. The breakfast was reassuringly informal. Adrian and Livia sat at a round table, introduced by her father years ago as the “Arthur” table. Nobody could be at the head. Actually oval, because the maids had put in the extra leaves to expand its size. But they had provided the usual feast, instead of a formal repast. Two sideboards groaned with good things. The scents the dishes released made Livia’s stomach growl.

  She hadn’t realized she was hungry until now. But she had to take her seat next to Adrian and suffer a series of toasts. Fortunately, her father, a man of few words, led them.

  First he toasted the bride and groom. “We were not expecting this to happen so quickly, but that does not diminish our pleasure.” He took his time sweeping his gaze around the room. “You are all here. This will not be the last time we gather, but with the lives we lead, I fear it will not be often. All my children, happy and fulfilled.”

  Despite their protestations, Livia had insisted that Darius and Andrew remain for the breakfast. They were as much part of the family as anyone else and Livia could only be happy that Darius had found what he needed.

  “I am a grandfather several times over now. I expect that happy fate to occur again,” the marquess continued. Her father turned his attention to her. “And my lovely girl, my little Livia, is now with her new husband.”

  A scraping sound drew everyone’s attention to the part of the room Livia had been studiously ignoring.

  Shoving back his chair, Sir Jeffrey Creasey sprang to his feet and stormed from the room, followed swiftly by his mother. Livia wasn’t sure who had invited him. Maybe he’d invited himself.

  She found a singular lack of interest, even that she might have hurt him. Although she doubted that. She’d frustrated his ambition.

  They set to eating, moving to the sideboards to help themselves in an informal wedding breakfast. But then, the Shaws rarely did anything in a conventional way.

  They sat, and consumed in a convivial way, catching up on one another’s business and discussing various public business they were involved in. Adrian mostly listened, but murmured the occasional comment to Livia, and added a few, salient points aloud. In this at least, he fitted. This was why the family would stay together. Together, with the knowledge exchanged in quiet, friendly meetings like this, they achieved a great deal for themselves and for their country.

  The contrast with the way Adrian quietly fitted in against Jeffrey’s often disruptive, attention-seeking presence confirmed her decision. She would test the waters.

  “He will make you very happy,” Claudia said, toasting the pair. Since Livia had been thinking of their night together, her face heated.

  Beside her, Val laughed softly. “You are too easy to read, sister. You should use more paint on your face.”

  “Livia has promised me never to do that,” Adrian said, equally quietly.

  Silence fell at the reminder of Adrian’s first wife.

  Conversation began again on a different topic.

  Chapter 16

  “Did you do as I said?” Adrian asked Mickey. He’d called him to his room that evening, when he’d finally persuaded his wife to retire. He would join her in a matter of minutes, but he needed to see his page first.

  “Yes, y’r grace. I went over to the ’ouse. House.” He made a point of pronouncing the h. Mickey was quick. He’d be sounding like a lord in no time. Adrian wasn’t sure he wanted the clever, wily child to leave his sight. Heaven knew what mischief the lad would get up to without his guidance.

  He dropped his nail-buffer on the dressing table and got up, facing Mickey. “Don’t leave me in suspense, boy. I have to go.”

  “Aye.” With the nerve he was born with, Mickey eyed Adrian’s banyan and bare legs. “I can see that.”

  “Enough.” But he spoke gently.

  “I talked to the men in Sir Jeffrey’s stables. I like horses. Never knew that before. The only ones I used to see were the skinny ones the hackney drivers use, and the tricked-up ones the nobs have. Never spent much time around horses.”

  “I daresay. What did the men say?”

  Mickey poked a finger under his neat wig and scratched his head. “He’s looking around him to make money, fast. That’s a comfortable place he’s got there. He shouldn’t force it.”

  “He’s ambitious.”

  “Aye, I got that too. He’s not well liked.”

  Adrian folded his arms across his chest. “You surprise me,” he drawled.

  “No I don’t. Anyway, that makes my job easier. You told me to arsk around, so I went sweet on one of the maids. They got used to seeing me in the last few days.”

  Adrian should feel guilt about sending a boy of twelve to spy for him, but he did not. Mickey hadn’t survived that long in the busiest, largest city in the world without learning a few things. “Don’t do anything else with the maid. You’re too young for that.”

  Mickey sniggered. “Never too young, guv’nor. But some think I’m ten or younger. I tell ’em I make up for being short in other ways. Then they’re keen to see. Anyhow, the maid hasn’t fallen for it, yet, so you don’t have to worry.” He grinned. “Captain Sir Jeffrey Creasey wants lots of things, including your wife. He wanted to marry her.”

  “I didn’t need to send you over there to find that out. I knew that already.”

  “Aye.” Mickey nodded vigorously. Adrian feared he would never make a suitable servant. He was too quick to answer back, and totally lacking in subservience, which a good servant should cultivate, whether he liked it or not. But he would keep his promise. Mickey would never return to the teeming streets he came from.

  “He wants money fast,” the boy went on. “But he’s not into the sharpers or the loaners. He wants to buy his way up. He’s going to London in the new year so he can make some more, find some schemes. And he wants to pester his lordship for sponsorship. He’s not at home right now, left right after his last visit here. He left in a hurry and he didn’t take anybody with him, which they say he doesn’t usually do. But he told them he’d be back soon.”

  “Hmm.” Adrian tapped his lip with one finger. “Thank you, Mickey. I want to know when he gets home. I don’t want him bothering my wife. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to do this job. I don’t like that man and that’s a fact. Something about him, you know?”

  Adrian knew. He could no longer ascribe his suspicions to jealousy. He had the prize, after all. Mickey’s enquiries had confirmed Adrian’s suspicions. Sir Jeffrey was fiercely ambitious, and he would do anything to achieve his aim. If Adrian’s guess was right, Sir Jeffrey’s intelligence was more of the native cunning variety. And despite his military career, the man had little loyalty outside himself and his own needs.

  But now Adrian had far more pleasant duties to perform and he didn’t intend to wait a moment longer. Striding to the job-door, he paused, and then laughed, going to the outer door instead. He didn’t care who saw him now. He was going into his wife’s room and he would be there for some time. Until morning, probably.

  * * * *

  Livia discovered one good thing about not being a virgin on her wedding night; she was excited rather than nervous, eagerly anticipating the hours ahead. Finch had gone to extinguish the candles over the bed but Livia had stopped her. She’d laid out a virginal night rail, thick white linen, but as soon as her maid had left the room, Livia had stripped off her robe and discarded it, together with her nightcap and her braids. Now her hair flowed over her shoulders and the only garment she wore was the cream silk robe, fastened only with a sash that wrapped around her waist.

  She paced, then paused before the dressing table, touching its clean linen cloth with the tip of her finger, deciding not to brush her hair yet again. In the mirror, her face was pale, her eyes large, but darker than usual. S
he should casually read a book, provide a picture for him, but she was too agitated for that.

  The day had dragged on. When the other guests returned from the Boxing Day Hunt, the house had filled up once more. Even the formal announcement of the marriage that Lord Strenshall made at dinner had not affected her too much. The company, thirty strong now, had unanimously proclaimed its delight in the match, even though much surprise was exhibited.

  But she had to stay and behave like a lady, even though she longed to be a hoyden, dragging her new husband off to bed, so she could have him to herself and run her hands all over his delicious body. Which she intended to do as soon as she could.

  Where was he? Was he coming at all? She picked up the book she’d taken from the library downstairs a full week ago and checked the leather bookmark. She wasn’t even twenty pages into it. Not the book’s fault. She dropped it back on the daybed.

  He’d shown her gentle but insistent attention all day. He hadn’t uttered a word of disparagement or disagreement. He’d been so agreeable Livia had started to suspect that Adrian had an identical twin, and he was making his appearance today. This kind, courteous man was nothing like the one she’d thought she was marrying. The man she’d reluctantly fallen in love with. She hadn’t meant to, she’d worked hard not to, but here she was, waiting for the man who legally ruled her world and emotionally ruled her heart.

  He was taking too long. She wouldn’t wait any longer. Either she went to bed or found out what was keeping him. Flinging open her door, she strode out into the corridor and collided with a solid body. If he hadn’t caught her, she’d have bounced off him. As he swung her up into his arms, she caught sight of the page scuttling down the corridor. “You were with him?”

  Adrian didn’t look around. “Mickey had news for me. I really need to get him to use the job-door. He only remembers to use it when it suits him.”

  “Humph.” She wasn’t happy that a pageboy had kept her waiting for her husband’s company. “You can put me down. I can walk.”

  “So can I.” His arms full of cream frills and lace, he nudged the door open with his foot and carried her through it, shouldering it closed. Still he didn’t put her down, but went to the bed, dropping her on the mattress.

  Livia put her hands down to stop her bouncing, but before she could recover, he was with her. Naked. He’d stripped off his robe and dropped it God knew where. She gasped, and then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing the sense out of her.

  Moaning, she clutched him, felt her voice reverberate around his mouth and experienced his responding groan. She should be—what, overwhelmed, shocked?—she was neither.

  With that masterful act he had aroused her instantly.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You were saying?”

  “I—I can’t remember. Kiss me again.”

  “All night, sweetheart. As often as you want.” He rubbed his smooth chin against hers. “I’ve even shaved. Again. Three times today.” He said the last with a disgusted tone. “I’m glad today is over.”

  “I enjoyed it.”

  He touched his lips to hers, but when she would have dragged him back down, he held steady. “So did I. I didn’t expect to. Weddings seem to be more for the spectators than the participants. So now we can have our own celebration, the part I’ve really been looking forward to.” His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Tell me.”

  She blinked. Did he mean that? “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He rolled over, taking her with him, knocking the breath from her. Now she lay on top of him. She glanced down. His chest moved easily when he breathed. He overwhelmed her and she loved it. “How is it you look bigger naked than you do dressed?”

  His laugh jolted her. “A good tailor. How is it you’re not naked yet?”

  “I’m nearly naked.”

  Taking one of her curls, he twisted it around his finger, creating a natural ringlet. He stared at it. “So you are. Your hair fascinates me, you know. It has since the first time I saw it. It has all the colors of gold and red in it, combining to create warm sunshine. I could bathe in you, Livia.”

  “That’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me!” Startled by his poetic turn of phrase, she turned a beaming smile onto him.

  “Sit up.”

  The command was so abrupt, it stopped her train of thought.

  “Sit up. I want to see you.” He choked a laugh. “You would think, after my vast and varied experience, I’d do this better. But all day I’ve been watching you, and wanting you. Each time I catch your scent, or the way you turn your wrist, or that little twist of your mouth when you’re trying not to laugh I want you more. I’m going mad here, Livia. Have mercy.”

  He certainly sounded desperate.

  Startled, she stared at him, before propping her hands on his shoulders and pushing herself up. She sat upright, straddling him, her knees tucked under. Her skirts flowed around them, but underneath she was bare. Somehow she’d managed to avoid the folds of silk in her most intimate parts. They touched, skin to skin, her most intimate part against the rough hair of his thighs.

  She lost her breath.

  He stayed completely still. “Let me see you. Unfasten your robe.”

  “I…I…” She goggled like an idiot. But yes, she wanted him, she wanted this. She’d been thinking of it all day. His straightforwardness, his honesty in the bedroom had astonished her before. Used to subterfuge, people never saying what they truly meant, she felt born anew. Years in the ballroom, minutes in the bedroom.

  “Livia.” He caught her hands in his. “Your arousal is kissing my thighs. If I move, I’ll take you because you are still killing me here. But I want you to understand your power here, when there are the two of us. I want you confident here.” He growled low in his throat. “I want you to take me as often as I take you.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t quite work out what he meant.

  “Because I enjoy it.”

  “Oh. I see.” Nothing had prepared her for that. Drawing her hands back, she fumbled with the sash at her waist. Exposing herself to him did not seem as worrisome now. He wanted her to—what?

  She dragged the sash free and tossed it aside. He watched her eagerly, his attention absolute. Forcing herself not to think, she slipped the robe off her shoulders.

  Her senses roared back in full force, punching into her under his avid gaze. She wanted to be beautiful for him. Taunt him with it. Because he was right—she loved the idea of taking him. The robe fell around her body, the full skirts billowing around them, a sea of cream. Her shoulders went back, thrusting her breasts proudly at him. His soft groan of appreciation rewarded her. Shoving her hand into the gap at the front, she found his member, hard and strong. When she skimmed her thumb across the soft tip she found it damp and waiting.

  If he had tasted her, could she do the same to him? What was stopping her? He would not. He lay on his back, his head propped up on the pillows, his arms spread out across the mattress. Totally still, waiting for her next move, his eyes sparkling with dark arousal.

  Ensuring no fabric lay between her and her goal, she swept the silk aside and bent her head, claiming him quickly. As her lips closed around the head, his body tightened. The muscles in his groin pulled tight, and the sac beneath bulged into her hand.

  “Dear God, Livia!”

  Good or bad, she didn’t care. Avidly she tasted him, discovered his texture with her tongue. The tip was delightfully silky, but even though he was hard, her fingers detected wrinkles. Fascinated, she experimented and discovered what he liked. He responded generously, threading his fingers through her hair and whispering encouragement. “Yes, that’s it. Just there. Run your tongue…oh!” That last as she twisted her tongue around the tip and sucked at the same time.


  His hand tightened on her skull. “Come away now, love. Put me into you.”

  Those words thrilled Livia to the bone. Yes, yes, she would do that. Lifting her head reluctantly, she sat up, the silk rustling around her. It made her feel more in control, having some means of retreat if she needed it. Tension rippled up her spine but she wanted to do this more than she feared it.

  The fear came from entering a new world. She’d experienced that emotion many times before. When leaving the schoolroom, attending her first ball, holding a gun against a man who threatened her twin. All of these and more.

  Yes, she knew that emotion and recognized it for what it was. Together with excitement and almost unbearable arousal.

  His eyes burned into her as he scanned her body when she sat upright. Proud of herself, she watched him, never took her eyes off him as she guided him to that part of her that wanted him most.

  Going up slightly, she hovered over him. When he closed his eyes, his jaw tightened and he swallowed. Opening them again, he gazed at her as if everything he wanted was there. “Do it, Livia. Or I will not wait any longer.” His voice was strained.

  She knew how he felt. After notching his member at the entrance to her body, she bore down. He slid inside her as if she’d been made for him, fitting him closely and securely.

  Keeping her movements slow, she absorbed him, took him in, not stopping until his thighs met her backside. With renewed focus, she met his gaze. “Now what do you want me to do?”

  His face relaxed into a wicked smile. “Whatever you want to do, sweet one. Show me what you like.”

  She didn’t know what she liked. Except that she enjoyed this control. She tried lifting so she could join them again, but she didn’t get very far. Her balance wavered, and she had to shift her legs a little to find it again.

  “Here.” Taking her hands, he guided them to his shoulders. Hot, hard muscle met her palms. “Now you can move.” He caressed her, stroking his hands up from her waist to her breasts.