by Eliza Lloyd
Gabriel told his best stories. Everyone at the table laughed except Timothy, who seemed to be in low humor.
After dinner, Nora assisted with removing the plates, silver, trays and bowls to the kitchen while the men retired to the library. Lady Fortenay retired to her room. Lord Fortenay was generous with his cigars, and his liquor cabinet held a modest amount of quality drink.
They chatted about tenants and vicars and sheep fertilizer. Gabriel was fluent in the conversation, but he was imagining his wife alone in her room. Finally, Lord Fortenay bid them good night and Gabriel was wont to follow.
Timothy turned to him. “Might I have a word, Lord Carlow?”
“You might as well call me Gabriel now that we are in-laws. What can I do for you?”
Timothy closed the library door. “It’s rather private and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone just yet.” Timothy was a fine-looking young man; Gabriel would even say he looked younger than his near twenty-one years. Gabriel was certain he was going to hear of some sin the young Timothy had committed and how Gabriel would need to assist in fixing it. Timothy wouldn’t be the first young man trapped by women or gaming debts.
“Lord Carlow, I mean, Gabriel. I met a young lady at the Weatherby Ball.”
“Oh Lord. Don’t tell me you got caught up in the curse, too?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that!” he exclaimed. “Well, it isn’t a misfortune of any kind. The young lady and I met there, and we have kept up a correspondence over these past few weeks. And it’s just that…I think I would like to court her, and she seems amenable. But I have nothing, and what parent would want me for their daughter?”
“Stop right there, Timothy. You are an earl. And parents want titled young men for their daughters. Don’t forget that. It is the most important rule of your life. And for your heirs. Remember your prominence within the nobility!”
“But I have nothing. No home. No income. No way to care for her, or potential children, in any meaningful way.”
Gabriel wanted to curse George Blasington all over again. Why had he sold his children’s birthright? “Hmm.”
“I need your help. Lord and Lady Fortenay would do anything for me if they could. They cannot.”
“Nora tells me they negotiated a very nice settlement for their oldest son and he’s only a future earl.”
“He married the daughter of a cit merchant.”
“Oh, I see. Your attraction is for a woman of some means. An important family.”
“Yes. She knows about my family’s past, though. She seemed humored by it. However, her parents won’t be.”
“Well? Who is she?”
“The Duke of Exeter’s granddaughter, Cecily Sheldrick. One of Lord and Lady Russell’s daughters.”
Gabriel took a breath. Exeter’s name was coming up far too often for Gabriel’s comfort.
“Your family never settles for low-hanging fruit, do they?” Gabriel paced toward the paned doors. “There have been no improprieties?”
“My lord! Of course not. Cecily is a virtuous young lady. I don’t know what to do. I cannot imagine her parents wishing me as their daughter’s husband. The title won’t matter to them because I have no money.”
“There is time. I don’t think you should press the issue until you are certain of your feelings for her.”
“My feelings? I am in love with her! I don’t want to wait. And I am afraid if I do wait some other man, one she doesn’t want to marry, will come along and snatch her from beneath my nose. Isn’t there some way you could talk to Lord and Lady Russell? Or the duke? Present my case?”
“I’m not sure, Timothy. Let me think about it. And in return, you are not to say anything about this to anyone, including Miss Sheldrick.” Gabriel had taken a dislike to secrets and here he was employing the same tactic because he didn’t know how to best advise Timothy.
“Yes, my lord.”
Gabriel knew the basics of marriage. When one married, one married the whole family. He’d just acquired a brother-in-law with weak prospects, aged in-laws who would need additional care over the next few years and a wife who was waiting in bed.
Everything else really could wait a couple of weeks.
“My lord, there is something else.”
“Yes.”
“Nora wants me to marry well, but she is worried I will become like them, as she says. She doesn’t think too highly of ton nobles, as a whole. I exclude you, my lord.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. So, in addition to advice, my real mission is to ease Nora into accepting this possibility?”
“Yes, and to convince Lord and Lady Russell. Or the Duke of Exeter, whichever you think appropriate. I don’t know which would be more difficult.”
“I do.”
* * * * *
Nora waited for Carlow, and her waiting was made worse by nerves and doubt. She’d washed and put on her neatest gown and robe. She’d left those beautiful new undergarments in London. What pride she had!
Tonight felt like the first real opportunity to be a wife to Carlow.
She’d slept in this bed since she was eight years old. How strange to have her husband with her now. The act itself was as nebulous as a foggy morning in the hills. There were paths which one might take with confidence with the right direction but turn down the wrong one and it was impossible to find the way back. A book with instructions might have been a good idea: What a Young Woman Ought to Know About the Marriage Bed. Or maybe Things Everyone Knows But No One Speaks Of.
With her whole heart, she believed Lady Fortenay had meant to reveal all, had Nora been betrothed and married in a traditional way.
Gigi hadn’t purposefully kept her from important knowledge. Their reading had been varied. Their conversations deep. Just not about the marriage bed. Living in the country was some help, though. A few rutting sheep might provide a simple tutorial, but that only made intercourse seem like a drudge.
So, she would have to ask Carlow to explain it to her. If she didn’t burn from the embarrassment of it all. Should she just slither into bed and pull the covers to her nose?
Instead, she plumped the thin pillows and crawled into bed, settling the covers in a modest way over her lap.
If only she were Nora of the Weatherby Ball—confident, determined and out to conquer all! If only she could wear her mask and costume. Her simple seduction of words and glances had worked once. Simple country Nora wasn’t all that mysterious, and she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe through it, let alone converse in an amiable manner.
Carlow knocked on the door, then entered slowly. “Nora?”
“I’m here.”
He strolled toward the bed, then leaned a shoulder against the column post. His steady look burned her, but she refused to avert her gaze out of shyness. “I am sure I can find somewhere else to bed down tonight,” he said, glancing toward the floorboards.
“I am sure you can, but I’m right here.”
Carlow laughed. “So you are.” He removed his jacket and folded it over the back of a chair. “You’ve changed your mind about the size of the bed?”
“You can see for yourself.” She watched him intently. Such an odd sensation. Wanting him. Lusting for him. “I’m sorry we don’t have a valet to assist,” she said, watching as he took a seat in the same chair as his jacket and then reached for the back of his boot.
“You’ve offered to help do everything else. Maybe you could help me undress?”
“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“It’s a wonderful idea. Maybe not tonight, but just make me a promise that sometime in the near future you will. Willingly.”
“Carlow?”
“Yes, my dear,” he asked, pulling off his second boot and setting it next to the other.
“I understand the gist of what is required of me.”
“Nothing is required of you.”
“I thought…”
“Do you want me to
explain it?”
“Not in a way that will humiliate me.”
“From what I know of you, you won’t be embarrassed, only consumed by an insatiable curiosity for all the details.”
“Details? It seems very straightforward.”
“The gist of it is. The details are not.” He stood and worked at the buttons on his vest. One at a time. She watched his long fingers work, then took a deep breath. Was it normal to want one’s husband? She wanted him in a way she couldn’t quite articulate, but her mouth was dry and her chest heaved. She licked her lips as he continued to undress.
“What am I to do?” she asked, her voice creaking.
He tossed his vest over his jacket and walked to his side of the bed. “May I?” he asked, before turning back the blankets. She nodded. “Do you want me to blow out the candles?”
“No. Why?”
“You might prefer the dark, that’s all.”
“Is that a metaphor for a woman’s life? Because Lady Fortenay has always said I should face every situation head on, eyes open.”
He sat, pulled one knee to the bed and leaned against the headboard. “I would say you have exceeded in that.”
She popped up and crossed her legs. “Why don’t you tell me what is going to happen and then I can be more prepared. You can skip that part about anatomy. I have had those lessons and I understand full well all the important parts.”
“Then what other questions are there?” he asked.
“That can’t be all.”
“The parts need only fit together to procreate,” he said.
She knew he was laughing at her, but she didn’t know how. “That can’t be all.”
“Because?”
“Intercourse doesn’t explain prostitutes, and it doesn’t explain ladies who run away with stable hands and it doesn’t explain poetry.”
“Actually, it explains quite a bit about each of those things.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t explain why wives only tolerate their husbands’ advances.”
“In what drawing room did you hear that?” he asked. “Not Lady Fortenay’s?”
“No, not here. But it is true. Everyone knows that.”
“Let’s start with the premise that all married couples also have an understanding of anatomy.” Gabriel glanced to his entwined fingers. “I’m not sure I can explain.”
She was leaning toward him. “You must. How will I find out?”
“There is one thing that matters, Nora, and that is the giving of pleasure. Mutual pleasure.” He had turned again and worked one hand beneath the bedcovers, before touching her covered thigh. She gasped. “Some things are better shown.”
As his hand ascended her body, Nora stopped breathing. She quivered as his hand ran over her stomach. When his hand cupped her breast, hidden by the robe, she was ready to die. She closed her eyes, as he slowly kneaded and ran a finger over her nipple. She’d never been so aware of one part of her body.
Carlow leaned toward her, “Do you want me to douse the candles yet?” he asked, his lips so near her ear they tickled. He moved his lips along her jaw and then he kissed her mouth, like he did the first time—softly, making her ache with such longing she wanted to melt into a bank of clouds.
She braced one hand against his shoulder. “Gabriel. Carlow! I can’t breathe.”
He left off, but his nose was just an inch from hers and his gaze bore into hers. “Wives who can breathe only tolerate their husbands. Wives who can’t breathe not only tolerate their husbands’ advances, they grow desperate for them.”
Chapter Eight
Gabriel was having trouble breathing himself. He’d patiently waited to have his wife, as a husband should, but of all the things he had learned about Nora, one thing really stood out: she was surprisingly naïve. She could act in any number of ways, but after an initial aggression and confidence, she returned to her natural state—that of a girl raised in a somewhat lonely environment by a mentor who wanted to pour into her all the book knowledge of the world.
None of that was a substitute for experience.
Lady Fortenay had no daughters. Nora must have been the surrogate for a dream her guardian held close to her heart. What else explained why Nora was twenty-three and unmarried? Nora would be her companion into old age. Until Nora had kept a secret from her dear Gigi and pursued her own secret ambitions.
He reached back and doused one of the candles.
Passion could be an uncontrollable emotion which could burn itself out. He’d felt it before and then he’d walked away.
What was stirring in his body and his heart was partly passion to be sure, but something else deeper and longer lasting. She was both supplicant and goddess. He wanted to be worshipped by her and to serve her every need.
“Gabriel?”
“Shh,” he said. He stood by the bedside and removed his shirt and trousers, allowing her to see him fully, albeit dimmed by the mostly dark room. He was right. She was deeply curious, her eyes round as she inspected him. Her chest heaved and her fingers dug into the blankets near her.
He slipped into bed again, drawing close to her, dropping his hand to her hip. She slid to a supine position, his hand caressing over her mons and resting again on her stomach. “The first time can sometimes be…unpleasant for you. Maybe it will even hurt a little. But trust me that I won’t rush you or frighten you. I may not be able give you immediate enjoyment, but I can help. Now, are you ready for a real anatomy lesson?”
She smiled and reached for him, touching the solidity of his chest. “I’ve never touched a man’s skin, except for his hand. And your face once. And your lips too.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, feeling tight from his thighs through his loins.
“Should I undress?” she asked.
He pulled the covers over his hip to give her some time to adapt. “Do you want to?”
“I’ve never completely undressed in front of anyone, not even my lady’s maid, when I’ve had one.”
“Just stay where you are. Close your eyes for a minute.” She obeyed but her mouth opened, and she licked her lips. He caressed her skin beneath the night rail, up to her breasts, down to the soft, sensitive area near her hips. Roaming her body with his fingers, he stopped each time she moaned.
His body made hard demands, but this first time he could not just do as he wished. Gabriel wanted untold nights of pleasure in the future, and he could certainly delay his fulfillment this one night.
The stage would be set; the players learning their parts.
He soothed down her leg and then came back up beneath her rail, traveling slowly. Nora turned away, her jaw clenched and the cords of her neck drawn tight. He laid his palm over her mons, leaned toward her and sucked on her nipple through the thin batiste.
Nora’s body jerked and she moaned beneath his slow arousal. “Oh, Carlow.”
Gabriel moved closer—the front of his body pressed to her side, his hard member snug against her thigh. The hand on her mons burned with the heat she emitted. She was tense, her legs pressed together, but he was able to slide a finger through the folds guarding her sheath.
“Nora,” he said, near her ear.
“Mmm” was all she could say.
“Tell me if you like this,” he whispered. He stroked her with his middle finger, along the smooth, wet skin; around the sensitive bud; and dipping into her sheath. He laved her breasts again and Nora started humming while her lower body started a rhythmic trembling.
With a sudden judder, she tensed, emitting a high whine, lifting her bum from the bed in an up-and-down movement that simulated intercourse. Gabriel had never seen such an intense reaction. A small spurt of semen escaped his cock.
He threw the covers aside. Nora came down from her high euphoria but was still trembling and breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d run through a Dorset meadow. Gabriel lifted her rail then his body over hers, bearing most of his weight.
With a slow movement, he used h
is knee to separate her legs and seated himself firmly between her thighs. He rolled a bit, gripped the root of his cock, then stroked along the seam of her body. She was plenty wet and that made his cock plenty slick.
At his first prodding, she tensed beneath him. He pushed slowly. Nora’s eyes flew open. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “I’m not ready,” she said with fear in her gaze.
“I can wait.”
“For how long?”
He laughed. “Well, for a man there is a time limit.”
“Why is it so awkward?”
“Because you won’t stopping thinking, when you should just be enjoying.”
“All right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Just relax. Think about Henbury Hall,” he said. He continued to push, his eyelids lowering. The more pleasure he got, the more he hurt Nora.
With one last push, Nora yelped and he was in her as deep as he could get.
He didn’t move. Nora’s nails relaxed. Her eyes finally opened. “Is it done yet?”
“Not by half. Is there still pain?” he asked.
“No. Not terrible. Just an ache.” She wiggled beneath his weight. “You’re still inside?”
“Yes.”
“Do you enjoy that?” she asked.
“It is perhaps the best thing in the world for a man. In my opinion.” He kissed her lightly. “Did you not feel the force of passion yourself?”
Tears came quickly and leaked down the side of her face. “Yes, I think so. There was such a yearning for something. I can’t name it. It was good but not, because I couldn’t do anything to make it stop or to make it better. As if it controlled me, made me blind to anything else. Even you.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I… Because I can’t help it. I’ve never been this close with someone before.”
He pressed another kiss to her lips. “My dear Nora. In the future when you cry while I’m inside you, let it be because you are feeling indescribable pleasure.”
“I don’t think I can control anything about this. I can’t even think.”