Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Eighteen

I t had been a small, intimate wedding.

Harriet had worn a simple dress of cream muslin with a matching veil and the Mechlin lace fichu gifted to her by Joanna. She had carried a bouquet of silk flowers, their pale-pink petals guaranteed to neither wilt nor offend those who perhaps harbored a sensitivity to perfume.

The guests had numbered seven in all. Joanna and Cedric had been there, of course, as had Lord and Lady Vaughan. Lord Fenton, in the stead of Harriet’s father, had given Harriet to Edward. And Lord Pendlewood’s presence had surely placed a stamp of approval on the entire affair.

That accounted for six of the guests.

The seventh guest, while not uninvited, had at first gone unnoticed. The mysterious figure, clothed in black, had chosen a shadowed spot at the back of the church and observed the proceedings in veiled silence. Only at the end of the service, when Edward and Harriet—now man and wife—had turned to face those gathered there, had the lady’s presence been noted.

Harriet had given Edward a slight nudge, directing his attention to the solitary guest, who had acknowledged their awareness with a respectful inclination of her head. Then, before any of the others noticed her, the lady had slipped quietly out of the church, no doubt heading back to London’s most notorious establishment.

The remaining party had departed for Edward’s house—the bride and groom’s carriage being pulled by the magnificent pair of grays—and celebrated with a splendid wedding breakfast. Edward and Harriet had then remained at the townhouse for a couple of days before leaving on their honeymoon. Four days later, they had arrived at their destination.

This was Harriet’s first night at Goshawk.

She couldn’t help but feel a smattering of trepidation. There were ghosts here. Not the kind that rattled chains or wandered the hallways garbed in white. The ghosts at Goshawk took the form of betrayal and tragedy. They did not haunt her, but she wondered if they still haunted Edward.

Harriet set her spectacles on the bedside table and lay back against her pillow.

Wearing nothing but a smile, Edward slid into bed beside her and propped himself up on an elbow. “Tired, my love?”

“Of you? No, not yet.” She feigned a yawn and inspected her fingernails. “It’s only been a week.”

He laughed. “Insolent woman.” His hand disappeared beneath the covers, stroking over her hip and stomach before sliding up to caress her breast and pluck at her nipple. Harriet arched her spine slightly and released a quiet moan.

“Say my name, Harriet,” Edward murmured, trailing light kisses across her cheek and forehead. “Say it.”

“Edward,” she whispered, and his mouth immediately moved over hers, teasing her lips open. He groaned softly as his tongue pushed through to probe and explore.

Harriet’s fingers trailed the thin line of dark hair that led from Edward’s chest, across his stomach, to his arousal, which twitched at her touch. He lifted and pushed his cock into her grasp, hardening further as her fingers wrapped around him. She surrendered to the mounting sensations of pleasure: the sensitive tingle in her breasts, the delicious throb between her legs, and the need to have her husband inside her.

Since being introduced to the pleasures of the marital bed, Harriet had discovered that she was utterly wanton. Like Edward, she slid into bed every night without a stitch on, eager to feel his naked body against hers. Neither was their lovemaking confined to the bedchamber. At the London townhouse, they had found pleasure in several different rooms, on the attic staircase, and even in the conservatory.

It was all so wonderfully delicious.

Edward raised up on his arms and moved over her, easing her legs apart with his own. “You drive me to madness,” he said, still pushing against her hand. “Guide me in, my lady.”

Harriet smiled at his use of her newly acquired title and did as bidden, lifting her hips as he filled her. She moaned as his hands slid beneath her buttocks and took hold, his strength adding force to her thrusts as he rocked her against him in a steady, sensual rhythm.

“Harriet,” he murmured, “you feel amazing.”

She clung to him and squirmed with pleasure, feeling the steady build of her climax.

“Edward. Oh, God, Edward, I want…”

“Take it,” he said, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. “Take it, Harriet.”

She gasped, arched her back, and surrendered to a wave of ecstasy as her inner muscles clenched again and again. Edward shuddered and released a guttural moan, pressing down as he spilled into her.

Then he collapsed atop her, stroked her hair back from her face, and kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

“I am yours, my lady,” he said, taking her with him as he rolled onto his side. “Always and forever.”

“As I am yours, Edward,” she said, heaving a sigh of pure bliss. As much as she enjoyed lovemaking, Harriet also adored the aftermath of it, when she lay wrapped in Edward’s arms, completely sated, as she did now. She heaved a satisfied sigh and closed her eyes.

“There is something I have not told you,” Edward said, startling her from her complacency. “Something you should know about.”

Harriet frowned. “What is it?”

He fell silent for a moment as if preparing himself. “After Julia died and I returned to Goshawk,” he said at last, “I began to have these…nighttime excursions.”

She shifted to better look at him, forced to squint without her spectacles. “Excursions?”

He nodded. “When they occur, I leave my bed, go outside, and walk up to the Devil’s Bridge, where Julia died. And I do it all in my sleep. I awaken only when I get to the river. The last time this happened was several months ago, when I was here with Pendlewood. Scared the devil out of him. It has not happened since, and I doubt it will happen again—I pray it will not. But you need to know there is a possibility of it, because I don’t want it to frighten you.”

“Oh, Edward.” Harriet lifted fully onto her elbow. “If it should happen, what do you want me to do? Shall I awaken you?”

He pondered. “I’m not sure what would happen if you did. It might startle me, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“You would never do that. Besides, if it’s been several months, maybe you are cured of it.” She settled beside him again, mulling over what he’d said. “I suppose I could always tie you to the bed.”

Edward laughed softly. “Good you should mention that, my love,” he said, rolling her onto her back to gaze down at her. “For there are many pleasures I have yet to show you.”