Chapter Twelve
Darius opened his mouth only to have his vibrant wife thrust her tongue into it. Her boldness sent his hips down faster than he’d planned.
Letting go of him, she dropped her head back down on the cushion. “Yesss.”
It was all he needed, and he thrust into her tight sheath, enjoying his long, slower strokes but unable to keep from increasing the pace.
Her energetic reactions to his lovemaking had destroyed his control sooner than he’d thought.
But her enjoyment was his primary focus for her first time, and he was grateful that she was so responsive.
In fact, her legs grasped him, and as he plunged into her faster, she tipped her hips, rubbing herself along his entire shaft.
He tried to hold back, just one more, just one—her sheath squeezed around him, and a yell of sheer pleasure burst from her throat, sending his own release deep inside of her.
He continued to thrust, her body receptive, urging him on until he was completely spent.
He let his head hang down as he held himself above her on the settee.
He hadn’t planned to take her in the middle of the afternoon in a room he hadn’t seen in years, so neither of them was in the most comfortable position.
Guilt started to build that he’d let his desire take precedence over her comfort.
“That far surpassed what I expected. Do you think we could do it again?”
At her words, all guilt vanished, and he chuckled. “Of course, but mayhap somewhere a bit more comfortable.” He pulled out, thinking only of her comfort, and immediately wished he was back inside her.
She pulled herself into a sitting position against the high back on one side, looking like the finest of courtesans, her hair messed terribly, with a few long red locks trailing down toward her large breasts and nothing on except her stockings.
He wanted to take her all over again but dared not.
If she became too sore, she’d become hesitant about the marriage bed.
Looking down as he donned his pantaloons, he noticed the telltale sign of her virginity.
Moving to his waistcoat, he pulled out his handkerchief and cleaned himself off before setting himself to rights.
Then he picked up his cravat and brought it to her.
“You may need this. I’m sorry there is no basin in here.
” He gave her a half-smile. “I hadn’t planned for this to happen. ”
Her eyes rounded before she looked down at herself and the redness started in her chest before it climbed up into her face.
He didn’t want her embarrassed. He promptly kneeled and took her face in his hands. “I am very pleased that I am your only lover.”
She gave him an understanding nod.
He rose again and turned his back on her to give her some privacy, busying himself with putting on his shoes and shirt. He was reaching for his greatcoat when voices in the hall stopped him. He spun around to find Ellie only in her shift.
Bloody hell. Who was about this side of the house?
Even as he strode toward the door closest to the voices, he worried about the other door.
He glanced toward it, for the first time wondering where all the dust covers were, as the room wasn’t used at all.
He put his finger to his lips at Ellie’s worried look then gestured for her to stand behind him.
If the door opened, he could keep her from being seen.
He listened carefully to those in the corridor just outside.
“I swear, Mr. Beacham. I heared a low, terrible moan, I did. And a howl as long as any wolf’s. It’s haunted, I say. The former lord has come back to take another soul.”
Darius bit down on a grin even as he contemplated whether to allow the staff to believe his uncle haunted the room, but he quickly dismissed it. Such a belief would be bound to get back to Ellie, and then she’d start asking questions.
Beacham’s voice sounded right outside the door. “I promise you, there are no ghosts about Hawthorne Park, and I’ll prove it.”
As the doorknob turned, Darius grabbed it and opened it just enough so that he blocked the entrance with his body. “Beacham, just the man I wanted to see. Please have tea sent up here. Lady Ferncroft and I are enjoying the old solar.”
“Of course, my lord.” Beacham hid his surprise well. “By happenstance, did you hear noises up here?”
Darius raised his eyebrow. “Noises? I did move a chair to better suit Lady Ferncroft as we viewed the estate, but other than that, I did not. Why?”
Beacham turned his head to frown at the maid nearby before looking back at Darius. “I will have the tea sent up posthaste, my lord.”
As Beacham turned, the poor maid following meekly behind him, Darius closed the door, only to find his wife smiling at him.
He wasn’t quite sure why almost being caught making love by the servants thanks to her own noises would please her. “You are happy?”
She gave a nod before holding her arms wide and spinning around, almost hitting him as he barely stepped out of the way in time. “I’m more than happy. I am filled with bliss.”
Not a little confused and certain they wouldn’t have much time to get her clothed before tea arrived, he strode to where her dress and stays lay on a table and chair. “We’d best get you dressed.”
She padded up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Darius, do you not see the humor in this?”
“Humor?”
She felt hot against his back before she stepped in front of him, crossing her arms beneath her bountiful chest, which had his mind traveling in a completely different direction.
“Darius.”
He moved his gaze to her face. “Yes?”
“You and I are married. This is our home. They are your servants. We don’t need to hide what we were doing.”
They didn’t? “But it’s the middle of the day and this is not the most proper place to take one’s wife. You do understand that.”
She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her familiar scent filling his nostrils, teasing him with what it could be.
“My dear formal, stuffy husband… Do you not see that because you couldn’t wait to have me that our encounter means that much more?
” She brushed his hair back from his forehead.
“For the first time in my life, I feel wanted, needed, and cared for. You have made me the happiest of women and the most contented of wives.”
Now he understood. “I am very pleased that you feel so, because it’s true. I do want you, need you in my life, and care for you.” Even as he said the words, he was surprised by how true they were.
“Thank you.” She rose up and brushed his lips with her own. “Now, please help me dress. Though it is quite warm in here with the sun pushing away the clouds right now, we may have company at any moment.” She picked up her stays and handed them to him.
He blinked at the realization that though she’d been a virgin, she was completely comfortable with him though she was half dressed. Dinah would have—
He stopped his thought. Comparing Ellie to his late wife was unfair to both, especially to Ellie. She was a unique woman that he was just beginning to truly appreciate.
He dropped the stays over her head and quickly laced them up, though a couple of the bottom holes remained empty, as the ties had come out and he didn’t have time to thread them through.
Next, he lifted the gown over her head, and when she had it settled where she liked it, he started to button her up, but footsteps in the corridor alerted them to an approaching servant.
Immediately, he tied the top tie so it wouldn’t fall from her shoulders.
Ellie stepped away from him and turned to face whoever arrived.
Too late he noticed her shoes and his cravat still lay on the floor before the settee. He pointed to a table and chairs set closer to the door, and they both headed for it. She had just sat down, facing the door, when it opened and a footman brought in the tea service.
After the man left, Darius stood listening to the footsteps fading away until a giggle from his wife had him turning. At her devious smile, he chuckled. “I admit I never expected to be hiding my activities from my own servants.” He took a seat opposite her.
She patted his hand before lifting the teapot. “I didn’t know how exciting it would be. I do hope we can do it again.”
He raised his brows at that surprising statement. He had a feeling she would continue to surprise him for many days to come. After accepting the cup of tea, he took a sip, pleased that she’d remembered how much sugar he liked and that there was no cream in it. “Perfect.”
“Of course. I may not be excellent at many tasks, but I do have a very good memory.”
The phrasing of her response jarred him.
Not because it was odd, but that he’d noticed it to be a common pattern.
Setting down his teacup, he watched her for a moment.
Her movements were typical, if a bit faster than most ladies were wont to do.
She poured her own tea in an instant and stirred her sugar vigorously before dropping in a quick plop of cream and stirring loudly again.
“You often say that you are not good at many tasks. Why is that?”
At his question, she stilled, her teacup halfway to her mouth.
After a moment, she continued to bring it to her lips and sipped.
When she set it down in her saucer, it clinked hard and she stared at it as if it were the source of all her woes.
“It is no secret that I am not quite gentle enough as a lady, nor accomplished as one. All my friends know it and my family is quite vocal about it. I do apologize if you had been hoping for someone more refined to better fit your formal bearing.”