Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
T he next fortnight continued much as the last had. Oliver continued to demand Lydia’s time, insisting that they walk the gardens, that she play the piano for him, and that he haltingly read poetry to her. She didn’t care for overly flowery poetry, so enduring his poor yet excessively effusive reading frequently gave her headaches. More than once, she requested a tray for the evening meal at just the right moment, pleading ongoing exhaustion from their daily promenades. While no one believed she was anything but the picture of good health, no one refused her to avoid a scene. Her parents knew she was often on the cusp of saying something she couldn’t retract.
It was early mornings when she found solace from Oliver’s unrelenting attention. She slipped down to the beach with her guards, and Keith was often already there. Her men kept an appropriate distance, but she knew they approved of Keith far more than Oliver. They never interrupted the couple when they stole a few moments behind a bend in the cliffs.
They both were far earlier risers than Oliver, so they spent two or three hours together. Her parents knew where she went, and she was certain her guards reported to her father. But she suspected they were selective in what they shared and that they didn’t mention Keith was there every day. She couldn’t see how her father would permit it otherwise.
“Lyddie, did you enjoy your latest book?”
“I did. It seems to have magically appeared since Emma was only recently published, and the spine on the copy I found hadn’t been broken. However did it wind up in your library?”
“Fairies.”
Lydia stared at Keith for a moment before she laughed hard enough to snort. She covered her mouth, but mirth danced in her eyes. Eventually, she stopped trying to conceal her smile.
“A fairy? One who’s about yay tall.” She stretched onto her toes and lifted her arm above her head. “I didn’t know water nymphs came so big.”
Keith captured her around the waist and hauled her against him as he walked backwards until they were out of the guards’ sight. His lips pressed to hers, but it was her tongue that flicked against his lips. She’d been a quick study and caught onto kissing with little tutelage. She was always as amorous as Keith, both starved for the brief moments of lust and affection they could share. With anyone possibly seeing them, they knew they risked much just by kissing. By tacit agreement, they kept their hands on the outside of one another’s clothes, resting on each other’s waists.
“I loved the story, darling. It was refreshing to read a woman storyteller. There were moments of humor but insightful narratives that made me realize how fortunate I am to know my family is well cared for if anything should happen to my father.”
“I will make such provisions for you and any children we have. I will make sure you have a home and all the things you need should I pass before you. I won’t leave you to beg for your supper or as a ward to someone like Oliver.”
Lydia patted Keith’s chest as she stretched to kiss his jaw. “I know you wouldn’t. It was an entertaining story, but it also seemed a sad commentary at times. I wonder who the author is. She’s only ever named as ‘A Lady.’ I’ve loved her other books, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park . I hope she continues to write more.”
“When she does, I will ensure you have one of the earliest copies.”
“You would risk your life and limb to get me a book? Of all the things you might trade for, a book is not one I expected.”
“I would trade the world for a book if it would make you happy. But, alas, I ordered that from London as soon as I returned from France.”
Lydia playfully slapped his chest. In turn, Keith nipped at her neck and grazed his teeth up her throat to just below her jaw. He savored the sweet scent and taste that belonged to no other woman he knew. His hand cupped her jaw, and more passed between them than they were ready to say. But they both understood.
* * *
Keith was certain he would murder his cousin. It was only Sarla’s frown that kept him from doing it. While he didn’t pay a visit to the Abbingtons every day, he never let more than two go by between his appearances. For the first week, he made it appear like a coincidence that he rode his horse past their home while Lydia and Oliver strolled in the garden. Politeness required the couple to stop, and Keith found something—anything—to chat about until Oliver and Lydia had no choice but to return to the house rather than continue the walk.
However, after he watched his cousin berate Lydia about something, he no longer held any pretenses. He’d dismounted and stalked over to them. Oliver hadn’t noticed Keith’s approach until Lydia’s eyes widened. He’d spun around, certain who approached. For once, he was prudent and remained silent. While Lydia downplayed the exchange both there and the next morning at the beach, Keith ensured he interrupted their walks before they began, or one of his grooms watched from a tree that overlooked the Abbingtons’ gardens.
During the second week after his return, he found reasons to meet with Will to discuss land matters, their neighboring tenants, issues he would bring before the House of Lords, and any other topic that came to his mind. On those days, Oliver was too curious to leave the house while Keith had Will’s ear. He’d insinuate himself into the conversation or try to eavesdrop from the drawing room all the way to Will’s study. Some days Lydia was forced to accept Oliver’s company in the drawing room, but many days she found things to do in the nearby village. While she wished she could spend the time with Keith since he was at her home, she escaped to avoid Oliver.
The past week had been the most onerous of them all. While a fortnight hadn’t seemed an unreasonable length for Oliver’s visit to get to know Lydia, moving into the fourth week of hosting him strained Sarla’s patience. She was far more hospitable than her daughter, but the long Oliver stayed the more entitled he grew. What began as preferences at the meals became requests that soon verged on demands. He would tell the servants what he wanted and instructed them to pass it along to Sarla rather than ask her. He knew if he did, she would turn him down, so he wished to save face. She refused to honor all that he asked, but she agreed to enough to keep the peace.
“Will, he shall drive me to Bedlam. It would be more peaceful than his constant presence. You cannot mean to marry Lydia to him. You cannot wish him to be our son-in-law.”
“He may be annoying, but he has a solid reputation and can provide for Lydia.”
“If that were the only requirements for a happy marriage, I’d be wed to the man my father chose for me.” Sarla crossed her arms and peered up at her husband. His lips twitched, which made his wife roll her eyes and shake her head.
“You know I enjoy when you look at me like that. It reminds me of my good fortune to a find a princess who loves me despite her parents’ early objections.”
“Seems a rather familiar situation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t disapprove of Oliver.”
“Do not be obtuse, Will. You’ve spent far too many years proving how intelligent you are for me to ever believe you now. You know who I mean.”
Will’s body stiffened when Sarla alluded to Keith. He wasn’t unaware of the similarities between his courtship with Sarla and how Keith and Lydia wished to be together. But the situations were different. It was a different place and different time. While it hadn’t been simple being a man awaiting his inheritance and title marrying a princess, but they’d been far from the trappings of life in England. Here existed complication connections and associations Will couldn’t ignore.
“I haven’t drafted any contracts, so it’s not as though they’ll walk down the aisle tomorrow. But you know MacNeil’s reputation. You know what he’s capable of.”
“I do. The traits our daughter is falling in love with are the very ones I fell in love with because you have them in spades, my darling. You’ve always said she and I are two peas in a pod. Can you blame her for finding a man as brave and determined as her father?”
Will drew his wife into his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We have time. No one will rush a decision. We’ll see whether Lydia warms to Oliver as they continue to get to know each other.”
“You’d best pray she doesn’t stab him through the throat. I’m certain she’s been tempted many times.” Sarla rested her head against her husband’s chest. She hadn’t pressed for a full explanation of why Will agreed to Oliver courting their daughter. He was a man with myriad secrets as a smuggler, but he’d never kept them from Sarla. She knew there were things he wasn’t sharing with her, but she trusted he had a sound reason for it. She knew, if nothing else, he was protecting his family from something worse than the obnoxious Lord Oliver Gwyn, Viscount Sackville.
* * *
Keith dueled an imaginary foe in his formal dining room, taking advantage of the rooms length as he practiced to keep his fighting skills honed. The room hadn’t hosted an event since he took up residence at the abbey again. Rather he used it to thrust and parry against enemies only he could see. Besides riding his horse, there was little for Keith to do to expand his restless energy.
The hours of open time tempted him to ride out and tour his extensive property, but it would take him away from Lydia for more than a couple days. He loathed being away from her for more than a few hours. He bore the frustration of it, but he didn’t trust Oliver not to pounce if Keith remained away for a day or more. He didn’t trust his cousin not to compromise Lydia since he grew more desperate by the day. Rising hours after sunrise meant Oliver never caught Lydia and Keith on the beach together, but Oliver was certain they met alone.
It baffled Keith how Oliver didn’t merely awaken earlier if he so wished to catch Lydia and him in some illicit act. But he was far to self-indulgent to believe he needed to catch them. He assumed all would work out in his favor, and he’d come out the victor.
Keith jabbed forward, his feet traveling with the momentum of his sword. As he progressed across the length of the massive room, he pictured his sword’s tip piercing Oliver’s skin repeatedly.
“He must be dead by now.”
Keith whirled around at Lydia’s voice. She leaned within the doorframe, watching and appreciating the view. He wiped his forehead with his shirt as he walked past the chair upon which he’d laid it. He placed his sword on the table in front of the chair.
“I must always be prepared to defend my fair lady from dastardly pirates.”
“I can think of one pirate I’d go with willingly.”
“I’m no pirate, sweetling.” Even he couldn’t say that with a straight face, so he winked instead.
“Then I suppose you’ll never plunder or pillage me.” She waggled her eyebrows, then squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her inside so he could push the door closed. He backed her against it, and neither held back. She could taste the salt from his sweat on his lips, yet he still smelled of the soap he must have bathed with that morning.
It was the first time they’d truly been alone since the night Lydia slipped into his house after he returned from France. They’d agreed it was too dangerous for Lydia to traverse the distance between their homes. Keith admitted he’d followed her that night and that Oliver confront him. He even confessed to sleeping at the top of the servants’ stairs, so he could watch her chamber door.
Since they were limited to comparatively chaste kisses on the beach, they were starved for more. Their hands roamed along each other’s bodies, desiring far more than mere kisses. Keith drew Lydia’s left leg over his hip, notching his length against her core. Their hips rocked as their need grew insatiable. They both wished she’d worn pants rather than her skirt with the yards of material to gather and hold out of the way. Beautiful as she appeared in her India clothes, Keith was ready to forbid her from the ghagra . An English gown wasn’t much better once he considered it. Once he wed Lydia, he would insist she only wear the trousers. He would concede to that since he knew his wife couldn’t parade around their home naked all day, every day.
He lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Their kisses bursting out of control as each step rubbed his rod against her entrance. He laid her back on the table, pushing her tunic up. She wore no chemise since her kurta was thick enough to be appropriate without the undergarment. He kissed a line down between her breasts. The he sprinkled kisses over her left breast before toying with her nipple, licking, sucking, and flicking with his tongue. He slid his hands beneath her skirts and wrapped his forearms around the back of her thighs from beneath before tugging her hips to the edge of the table.
“Would it shock you if I made love to you here one day?”
“Only for one day? That seems rather disappointing. I should like it at least once a week. I think I shall be quite a demanding wife.”
“I shall do my best to fulfill all those demands. I would hate to leave my wife longing for anything.”
She glanced down to where their bodies would join if their clothes weren’t in the way. Her heated expression made Keith’s cock twitch. Her gazed darted up to his when she felt it move.
“Did you make it do that?”
“I can, but no. That was on its own. Your curiosity and acceptance of the intimate things we do spurs my lust, Lyddie. I fear being too rough with you when we finally make love.”
“I’ve been told I’m the sturdy sort, so you needn’t worry.”
“I will always worry about you. You mean too much to me not to take your wellbeing seriously.” He wanted to confess his feelings for her, but he wasn’t convinced her affection ran as deep as his. He feared that because she had no man to compare him with except for Oliver, she thought her feelings ran deeper than they did. That this was only infatuation. That one day she would realize she’d been too impetuous and didn’t love Keith like he was certain he loved her. From the look in her eyes as she brushed a sun-bleached lock of hair from his forehead, Keith thought his feelings weren’t unrequited.
The moment of intimacy tempted her to reassure him that she knew she was always safe with him. That she would never be too far from him since she couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from the man she loved. That she longed to do more wifely things and share her affection with him beyond moving his hair out of his eyes.
Mindful of the time slipping away, neither wished to lose themselves in thought. They wished to enjoy each other’s company. Keith’s hands ran up and down her satiny skin from knee to hip. He suckled her breast as his fingers found her wet heat. He groaned to discover her wet and ready for him. He body screamed to take possession of hers. To make her his in a way no one could refute.
They’d spoken more about being caught together, and it often seemed like their only recourse. But they would need an event that was public. If they attempted it at her family’s home, it would be too easy for her parents and Oliver to brush away their lapse in judgement. They needed somewhere that would make Lydia being compromised irrefutable.
“Let me do something for you, Keith. The last time we were alone like this, you pleasured me. I want to know how to return the favor.”
“You don’t have to, little one.”
“I know. All the more reason I want to.” She didn’t doubt a man like Oliver would insist he was entitled to all her attention in any way he wanted it. She was certain Keith would never be like that. He would never force his husbandly rights upon her like she was certain Oliver would. She feared nothing about coupling with Keith; whereas, the same act with Oliver made her wish to jump off a cliff and swim out to sea. She would meet Keith’s ship out there, and they could sail away.
Keith knew he couldn’t unfasten the front of his trousers while Lydia’s entrance rested against him. The temptation to slip inside her would undoubtedly get the better of him. They couldn’t both be bear, or Lydia wouldn’t leave his home the way she arrived. He would proclaim her his wife like his Highlander and Hebridean ancestors did with a handfast. He knew no one would recognize such a declaration here, even if it was still a legal practice in Scotland. He would do things properly lest Will shoot him or whisk his daughter away from Keith.
He pushed her skirts down before letter her unfasten the buttons on the fall of his breeches. He hadn’t donned his shirt, so she enjoyed the way the muscles in his chest and abdomen rippled with each movement. She watched the peaks and valleys over his belly move faster as she pushed open his pantaloons until she saw the thatch of hair and the tip of the promised land. Her mouth watered as she thought of the many illustrations she’d viewed in the books that still sat upon shelves in Keith’s library.
“When you look at me that way, Lyddie, you’re nothing short of a siren luring me to you.”
“But not your death.”
“The French call a climax un petit morte .” A little death.
“Yes. Such euphoria that it’s as though you’re no longer on this earthly plane.”
“I’m certain it will be nothing short of heaven.”
Keith helped her ease his trousers farther down his hips until he sprung loose. He watched the fascination, trepidation, and excitement morph across Lydia’s face. She reached for him; her gaze locked his. When he nodded, she tentatively wrapped her hand around his sword wishing that she could be its sheath. She was hesitant at first, unsure how tightly she should hold him or how quickly she should stroke him, but she knew what to do.
Keith marveled at her lack of timidity. She wasn’t like he assumed other virgins were. He’d avoided them like the plague, preferring to seek company only with experienced women. He needed no mothers matching making or fathers chasing him with a gun pointed at his head. It was refreshing to be with Lydia, seeing things as she did. It was an act he’d performed on himself and received countless other times, but it felt wholly different with Lydia. He knew it was because his feelings for her were unprecedented. He’d never had an emotional connection with his past partners, not even women who’d been his mistresses.
Lydia took her time acquainting herself with the girthy rod in her hand. If the images in the books had been drawn to scale, she knew she was far luckier than the women in the books she’d studied while Keith was away. She’d slipped into his library not only for novels to take home with her but to revisit the books she and Kelsey used to giggle over. She found them informative in a way she hadn’t before.
She conjured images and remembered the text written next them. She varied the speed as she pumped his shaft, her thumb sometimes sweeping over the bulbous head. She felt him pulse against her palm a few times, and from the way the muscles strained in Keith’s neck, she suspected he fought valiantly to keep from letting un petite morte carry him away. Her free hand wandered across his chest and belly absentmindedly until another thought barged into her mind and refused to leave. She pressed on his chest, pushing him away. Keith’s brow furrowed as he stepped back. Lydia didn’t release him, instead continuing to stroke him as she came to her feet.
He was unprepared for her to drop to her knees in one graceful motion and lower her chin, so she could lick the tip. After the initial swipe, she swirled her tongue over it, flicking at the slit on top. Keith groaned as he tried to pull her onto her feet.
“You don’t have to do this, Lyddie.”
“I know I don’t. But whether I had to or not, I want to. I know the pleasure I felt when you put your mouth on me. I know this is something natural a couple can share. Or is this something only whores do?”
“It is not. But this a lot for you.”
“Yes, it is.” She licked her lips before licking his length. She’d refused to stand despite how he urged her to. “Keith, unless you don’t wish me to do this, then I’d like to try. More than one book stated this could be pleasurable for both partners. I want to do this for you.”
As Keith peered into her deep, soulful brown eyes, he doubted he could refuse her anything. He’d thought they might work up to her taking him in her mouth. Apparently, Lydia was an apt student with a thirst for knowledge. He gathered her hair in his right hand while his left gripped the table as her mouth descended his length. He watched in fascination as she concentrated, her brow furrowed in thought. He hoped she didn’t regret her choice. When she worked him farther into her mouth until he reached her throat, he feared he would spill that moment.
Lydia took her time, breathing though her nose and relaxing her throat. She didn’t wish to gag, so she moved slowly, taking him farther into her mouth an inch at a time. When it was too much for her to stay that way, she pulled back and wrapped her hand around his exposed length. Her mouth and hand worked in tandem to create the singularly most erotic experience of either of their lives, surpassing either of their imaginations.
“Lyddie, I cannot last much longer. Let go.” Keith gently pressed against her shoulder, but she shook her head. “Lyddie.”
Her eyes opened and peered up at him. She’d heard the command in his tone, and it tempted her to test him. It made her curious to discover what he would do if she disobeyed. In no way did she fear his reaction. Just the opposite. She suspected she would enjoy whatever punishment he doled out. Intriguing as the possibilities were, she wished to know something else. She leaned back on her heels and stroked him until his cock erupted. It fascinated her to see and feel a man’s climax. When she was certain no more of the creamy liquid would come out, she licked some off where it splattered against his lower belly. She hadn’t known what to expect. While it wasn’t a favorite taste, it wasn’t one she minded. She intended to finish the way she started the next time she had the opportunity to offer him something so personal.
Keith adjusted his trousers before lifting her to sit on the table. He was about to have his own feast when someone knocked on the door. They’d spoken softly enough for no one outside the dining room to hear. However, it would be disastrous if they were found together. Lydia scrambled to put her clothes to rights.
“There’s a tunnel from here. I’ll go that way.”
“I hate?—”
“I know. But this isn’t the time.”
Keith sighed and nodded. He grabbed his shirt from where he’d left it on the table beside where Lydia had sat. He grabbed his fencing sword too before heading to the door. A moment after Lydia disappeared into the abyss, he opened the door.
“Where is she?”
“Why are you in my home uninvited, Oliver?”
“Where is my soon-to-be betrothed? I know she’s here.”
“You can see I’m alone.”
“She has some warren of tunnels she uses. I’m certain of it. Where is she?”
Keith jabbed his finger into Oliver’s chest as he prowled forward, forcing Oliver to retreat. He steered his ferret faced cousin toward his front door. The doorman scrabbled to get it open in time. Oliver kept walking backward until they stood upon the stoop.
“We were equals as children. Both boys waiting to inherit their titles. How easily you forget how far above your station you reach when you antagonize me. Do you know why I ignored you when we were children? To react to you would have ensured a beating from my father. By not reacting to you, you earned a thrashing from your father. I enjoyed your screams each and every time. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you. What say you? Shall I make you scream for the sake of nostalgia.”
Keith drew back his fist, but Oliver raised his hands in surrender.
“Lady Lydia’s whereabouts are not your concern. They are Sir and Lady Abbingtons’. Do not presume to enter my home without invitation, or you shall find your accommodations most lacking. If I should misplace the key to your cell, it would be most unfortunate. Since I so rarely go to the dungeon, I would miss most of those screams. Small price to pay for you no longer annoying me.”
He was still ready to thrust his fist into Oliver’s eye, but the man spun on his heels and raced down the steps to his waiting horse. From his glower, Keith was certain his threats were only a temporary fix. He needed to either marry Lydia or kill his cousin. Either would solve his problem permanently. As he watched his interloping cousin ride off his property and back to the one only a short distance away, he knew whatever action he took, it needed to be soon.
“Your days of being a blight on this earth, a boil on mankind’s arse, are limited. One way or another, it’s time for you to be gone.” Keith murmured his thoughts, but it was more a pledge than idle musing.