Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“Yes. All my sisters’ husbands have been franking his habits for years.
Two Christmases ago the six of us discussed the matter and decided it was time to put an end to his allowance.
It may seem like a ruthless decision, but he ran through all the money my brothers-in-law gave him within weeks of receiving his quarterly allowance.
They paid for his lodgings and necessary expenses themselves.
He even had a generous clothing allowance.
Having no money did not deter him and he lived on his expectations for a year.
Only when it became known that Needham, Crewe, Chatham, and Shaftsbury would no longer pay his debts did his situation become desperate. ”
This was the first Gerrit had heard of this, but then he was not fond of gossip. “Are the debts still outstanding?”
“Yes. I would ask that you do not pay them. Because if you do, he will return and—”
“And run up new ones. Even so, it seems rather unjust to his creditors.” It went against all Gerrit’s principles to leave unpaid debts.
“Perhaps at Christmas you can speak to my, er, our brothers-in-law and discuss if there is anything to be done.”
He nodded slowly. “You wish to spend Christmas at Wych House? I take it that is where you gather?”
“This year Christmas is at Wych House. My sisters and brother take turns hosting it and the last time it was there was five years ago.”
“Was that the last time you went home?”
“Yes. Although in truth I do not really consider Wych House my home because we moved into a small manor on the property when I was very young. My father had to lease Wych to pay for our expenses, but even that was not enough,” she added, darkness once again seeping into her eyes.
Clearly her parents were a sore subject. Gerrit felt a pang of sympathy for her. His mother was impossible, but at least he’d had his father. The duke had been a reserved man, but Gerrit had never doubted that he’d loved him.
“Can we go to Wych House for Christmas?” she suddenly asked.
She looked so hopeful that even a man as thick as a plank could see it was important.
Doubtless the visit would be excruciating for him—not just spending days and weeks in a chaotic environment, but meeting new people always left him exhausted—but he would gladly bear it to make her happy. “If you like,” he said.
She smiled. No, she glowed. “I would like very much for you to meet the rest of my family.”
The rest.
He blinked at the wording. Why did it take him by surprise so to hear himself referred to as her family?
Perhaps because it was only in the past week or so that he had begun to truly behave like a husband.
***
“You were very late tonight,” Becky said as she brushed out Katie’s hair.
“Yes,” Katie agreed, her thoughts on the evening.
Playing chess again had been… fun. Yes, it had definitely been fun.
She played with her family when they all gathered at Christmas, but she always curbed herself during the holidays and often let people win.
Tonight, she had not held back, and Dulverton had simply become more grimly determined with each game.
But not once had he looked at her with the open dislike she recalled seeing in Jasper’s eyes.
Instead, his gaze had been respectful, if thwarted.
And then there had been their conversation afterward. She’d been shocked by what she’d learned about the dowager. She could also understand now why Gerrit had been so very disgusted when she’d told him her lover had been one of her aunt’s footmen.
“Your Grace?”
Katie looked up to see Becky holding up two nightgowns. “Which do you prefer?”
She was tempted to tell her neither, but she knew her rather prim maid would be shocked by such a disclosure.
“The green,” she said, and then stood and removed her undressing gown so Becky could slip the pale green muslin over her head.
Green was her best color; Gerrit would like this, she was sure.
He would like you better naked.
Katie gave a choked laugh at the shocking thought.
“What’s that, Your Grace?” Becky said absently as she cleared off the dressing table and prepared to leave for the night.
“Oh, nothing,” Katie lied.
The moment the door shut behind Becky, Katie pulled the nightgown over her head before she could lose her courage.
She was going to throw it over the foot bench but then thought about Gerrit and hurried to the dressing room and tossed the garment over the clothes horse before scampering back to bed.
Something about running naked, even in her own chambers, felt indescribably wicked.
Smirking to herself, she dove beneath the sheets and had just pulled them up above her breasts when the connecting door opened, and Dulverton entered.
He stopped a few feet from the bed, his pale gaze lingering on her bare shoulders before lifting to her hot face and regarding her with the intense, inscrutable expression that always made her squirm.
He came close enough to lightly stroke the back of her hand. Katie dropped her gaze to his teasing finger, which was far easier to look at than his eyes. But she should have known it would not be so easy.
“Look at me, Kathryn.”
She made herself look up.
“Is this for me?” he asked, his distracting touch sliding up her arm and causing her entire body to break out in gooseflesh.
“Yes,” she said, aiming for saucy but sounding squeaky, instead.
His lips curled up at the edges. But rather than stopping at their usual twitch, they kept going up and up, until he was smiling a real smile.
“That is a first,” she said, breathless with astonishment at how young he suddenly looked.
“Hmm?” His attention was focused on his finger, which was gently but inexorably pulling down the sheet that covered her breasts.
“Your smile.”
“What of it?”
“That is the first time I’ve seen it.”
“Surely not.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I smile when I am happy. Let go,” he said, gently tugging the sheet.
Katie lowered her arms, and he exposed her breasts, not stopping until he’d brought the sheet to her hips.
A low rumble emanated from his chest. “Kathryn,” he said, his voice harsh and his pale eyes turning dark.
The effect on him was so mesmerizing that she hardly noticed when he removed the sheet entirely, baring her to his consuming gaze.
“So beautiful.” He swiftly tugged on his sash and shrugged out of his robe, letting it puddle on the floor at his feet.
Katie gestured to the robe. “Should I—”
“Leave it.”
Hmmm. That was interesting…
Her eyes immediately lowered to that most masculine part of him, and her mouth flooded at the sight of his thick, ruddy shaft jutting straight up from the nest of straw-colored curls.
She wanted to touch him—desperately—and had done for weeks, but the fear of what he might think of her, of how he would wonder about her experience and how she had gained it held her back.
Be bold.
Katie somehow doubted this was what Betje had meant, but she was so tired of second guessing herself. And of hiding what she wanted.
And so she reached for him but then hesitated an inch away, looking up to find his gaze locked on her. He gave a slight nod, and she curled her fingers around his thickness, earning another of those intoxicating animal growls.
She had stroked Jasper before and knew what to do. She made a tight fist of her hand and focused her attention on the area below the crown.
Dulverton hissed and his hips flexed to thrust into her hand, the action causing a truly fascinating cascade of muscles in his thighs, abdomen, and chest. “That feels so good, Kathryn.”
She loved the feel of him hot and hard and throbbing against her palm. She cut a glance up at him, entranced by his hooded gaze. Do it, her inner devil urged.
Katie swallowed down both her nervousness and the copious moisture in her mouth and leaned closer, watching him the entire time. His eyelids slowly lifted, and his nostrils flared as she shifted on the mattress until she could kiss his swollen crown.
He groaned, his expression one of desire rather than disgust or judgment. He slid a hand around her jaw and slowly pushed his hips toward her. “Suck me, Kathryn.”
It was her turn to groan at his crude command, and her hand shook as she positioned him at a better angle and opened her mouth and took him inside.
***
Part of Gerrit’s brain was loudly shouting that one did not use one’s wife as if she were a harlot. But the rest of his mind, which reveled in the sight of his beautiful wife valiantly attempting to swallow him whole, kicked the complaining voice into a distant corner.
“Lovely,” he rasped, lightheaded with lust at the sight of her pale pink lips stretched around his disappearing length.
He caressed the slick, taut skin with his thumb, their eyes locked as she slowly lowered to take more.
This was not her first time engaging in such an act, but her watering eyes and the scrape of her teeth told him it was not far off.
That she had offered such a gift to Gerrit was almost more arousing than the act itself—not that she didn’t work him toward release with impressive speed.
But he did not want things to end so quickly.
“Kathryn,” he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder and carefully withdrawing.
Her brow pleated as she looked up at him. “Was it bad?”
He gave a brief, incredulous laugh. “No, quite the reverse. I am on the verge of shaming myself like an overeager schoolboy.”
She grinned.
“Ah, that makes you proud,” he accused. She laughed and did not deny it.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, climbing onto the bed.
“Lie down for me, darling.” Gerrit did not know who was more surprised by the endearment.
Had he ever called a woman darling—or sweetheart or my love or any pet name—before? Not that he could remember.
She lay back, her long, slender body so enticing that Gerrit forgot about burying himself inside her and instead satisfied his hunger by tonguing her delicious breasts, suckling and nipping and laving.
Only when she was a mess of twitches and gasps and moans did he nudge apart her thighs and lower his hips. “Put me inside, Kathryn.”
Her long, slender fingers were hot when they closed around him, and she’d scarcely positioned him at her entrance when he sank inside her, filling her with one long, hard thrust that left them both gasping.
“So hot and tight,” he murmured, having to bite his tongue to keep from shouting when she contracted around him. Yes, she liked it when he spoke. And he liked it when she liked it.
“Can you do that again for me?” he asked, rolling his hips slowly.
Her expression was one of intense concentration before she shook her head. “I cannot seem to control it unless—”
“Unless I say something vulgar?”
She gave a breathy laugh. “Yes, that seems to—”
“How should I fuck you, Kathryn? Hard and fast?” He demonstrated with a powerful thrust that pinioned her to the mattress. “Or slow and deep?” Once again, he matched deed to words, gritting his teeth when her slick passage contracted around him.
“Do I have to choose?” she asked, her eyes sensual slits as her hands stroked from his shoulders to his waist before resting on his arse, one palm on each cheek.
“My greedy girl,” he said approvingly, lowering to one elbow and then reaching between their bodies. “I like to feel where we are joined.” He stroked the slick, taut flesh of her sex.
“Gerrit,” she breathed as he slid his wet finger to the swollen nub at the apex and lightly pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. She bucked as passion swamped her, her sheath clenching like a vise and sending him hurtling toward his own release.
Her limp arms tightened around him when he would have moved off her, so he laid his full weight on her, enjoying the press of her small body beneath his for a few seconds before rolling them both onto their sides. “I do not want to crush you,” he explained when she made a noise of dissent.
She burrowed her face between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t go…Gerrit.” Her words were muffled and hot against the skin of his throat.
Rather than answer her, he slowly withdrew from her body and then turned her until her back was to him. He tucked his softening cock between her buttocks as he pulled her tight to his chest. She fit so perfectly. Why had he held out against this intimacy for so damned long?
“Gerrit?”
“Hmm?”
“I am looking forward to bringing you home for Christmas.”
Well. What could he say to that?
Why not say what you feel? You do it often enough when something displeases you, after all.
Gerrit pulled her closer. “So am I, Kathryn.” He burrowed his face into the wiry mass of curls and pressed a kiss to her head. “Now go to sleep.”
But judging by the soft snore that met his command, she already had.