Chapter 28 Christmas Day #2
"Eleanor Madeley, you are already my wife.
But I failed to honour you as such. So now, before God and all these witnesses, I make my vows to you anew.
" His voice resonated with emotion. "I vow to honour you, to cherish you, to listen to you and value your counsel.
I vow to be your partner in all things, your equal in this marriage.
I vow to love you with every breath in my body, every day for the rest of my life.
" He slid the ring onto her finger, above her simple wedding band.
"Will you accept this ring, and with it, my heart?
Will you give me the chance to be the husband you deserve? "
Eleanor couldn't speak through her tears. She could only nod, clutching his hand as if she'd never let go.
"Yes," she finally managed to whisper. "Yes, of course, yes."
The ballroom erupted in applause and cheers. Aubrey pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly, propriety be damned.
When they finally broke apart, the crowd was still applauding. Ladies dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Even the men looked moved.
Lord Waverly was the first to approach, grinning broadly. "Madeley, that was the finest thing I've ever seen you do."
"Hear, hear," Cartwright added, clapping Aubrey on the shoulder.
Steven appeared next, his expression warm. "Beautifully done, Madeley. Eleanor, I'm happy for you. Truly."
More guests crowded forward—congratulations, well-wishes, tearful embraces for Eleanor. The celebration resumed with renewed energy, the orchestra striking up a triumphant tune.
But after several minutes of accepting congratulations, Aubrey swayed slightly. Eleanor caught his arm immediately.
"That's enough," she said firmly, though her voice was still thick with emotion. "You need to rest."
"I do," he admitted, exhausted but smiling. "Will you take me to our chamber?"
"Of course."
She helped him through the crowd, accepting final congratulations as they made their way to the stairs. The journey to their bedchamber was slow, Aubrey leaning heavily on both his canes and Eleanor, but neither of them minded.
When they finally reached the door to his bedchamber, the sounds of the ball fading to a distant hum, Eleanor turned to him.
"That was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done," she said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "Aubrey, I can't believe you—in front of everyone…"
"I wanted everyone to know," he said simply. "I wanted you to know, beyond any doubt, that I am yours. Completely and irrevocably yours."
She kissed him then, deep and thorough, pouring all her love and joy and wonder into it. He kissed her back with equal fervour, his fingers tangling in her hair, pressing her body against his.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Aubrey fumbled behind him for the door handle.
"Inside," he said roughly. "Now."
Eleanor helped him into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
He sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her between his legs.
"Your leg—" she started to say.
"Will be fine. Especially if you're the one doing most of the work."
Her neck flushed with understanding. "Aubrey—"
"I want you," he said simply. "All of you. Completely. Will you...?" He couldn't quite finish the question, suddenly uncertain despite everything they'd already shared.
"Yes." Eleanor's answer was immediate and certain. "Yes, I want that too."
Eleanor helped him out of his coat and waistcoat, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked the buttons. When she reached for his cravat, he caught her hand.
"Eleanor," he said softly. "Wait."
She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "What is it?"
"I need to ask you something." He cupped her face gently. "When you said you haven’t taken a lover... does that mean you've never...?"
Understanding dawned, and her cheeks heated. "I've never been with anyone. You're the only man I've ever wanted."
Aubrey's eyes darkened at her words. "Then we take this slowly. As slowly as you need."
"I'm not afraid," she whispered.
"I know, but I want your first time to be perfect. Or as perfect as I can make it." He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, then finally her lips—soft and tender. "Let me take care of you."
Slowly, reverently, he began unfastening her gown, his fingers gentle on each hook and button. When the silk finally pooled at her feet, leaving her in her stays and chemise, he pressed a kiss to the smooth slope of her breast through the thin fabric.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "So damned beautiful."
He unlaced her stays with practiced hand, then drew her chemise over her head, baring her completely to his gaze. Eleanor made a small sound—part nervousness, part desire.
"Aubrey," she breathed.
"Lie down," he said, his voice rough. "Let me see you."
She climbed onto the bed, and he pulled off his cravat and his shirt over his head. He followed her onto the bed, watching her face as her gaze roamed over his bare chest.
He settled beside her; all his attention focused on his wife’s form.
He started with kisses—her mouth, her throat, her collarbone. Then lower, taking his time with her breasts, learning what made her gasp and arch. When his hand drifted down her stomach, she tensed slightly.
"All right?" he asked.
"Yes."
He stroked her through gentle touches, his fingers moving with the knowledge of a husband who had touched his wife before. She was responsive, her breath quickening, her hips beginning to move against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured against her breast. "Just feel. Don't think."
When he touched her intimately, finding her slick and hot, they both groaned. He fell into the rhythm he remembered she'd liked, paying attention to her reactions, adjusting his touch when her responses told him to go slower, faster, softer.
"Aubrey," she gasped. "Oh God, Aubrey—"
"I know, love. Let go. I want to watch you come apart."
He increased the pressure, the rhythm, and suddenly she was crying out, her body arching off the bed as pleasure crashed through her. He worked her through it, watching her face with wonder as she shattered in his arms.
When she finally went limp, breathing hard, he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
"That's one," he said with a small smile.
She blinked at him, dazed. "One?"
"I intend to make you come at least twice before I'm inside you." He kissed her again, deeper this time. "I want you ready for me. So ready you're begging for it."
Eleanor flushed as her lips parted. Aubrey bent down to kiss her, and this time, he held nothing back.
His arms tightened around her body and his tongue swept in with desperate hunger.
He explored every part of her with his mouth and hands, stroking, licking, and squeezing.
Then he pushed away from her unexpectedly, positioning himself so he was sitting against the headboard.
“Come here and stand up,” he rasped and pulled her toward him.
Eleanor did as told despite her bewilderment. When he cupped her bottom with his hands and pulled her toward him, she gasped, her hands bracing against the wall. Then she felt his mouth on her heat, hot and wet, hungry and passionate.
She heard a feminine voice moan, cry out, and say, “More… yes, there…”
His mouth was relentless, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue parting her folds and entering her sex, doing the most scandalous things she never could have imagined.
And by the time he'd brought her to a second shuddering climax with his mouth and fingers, she was indeed begging—soft, desperate pleas that seemed to fan his ardour.
"Please," she gasped. "Aubrey, please, I need—"
"I know what you need."
He released her and guided her onto her knees.
His eyes were black with need, his lips swollen from kissing her.
He gripped her hips firmly and positioned her over his stiff rod.
Eleanor felt the smooth head of his cock brush against her thigh.
His breath hitched and his eyes fixed where they were to join.
“So damn gorgeous,” he breathed.
He lowered her down slowly, inch by exquisite inch, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Eleanor gasped at the feel of his cockhead breaching her, so smooth and tight, hot and perfect.
"All right?" he managed.
"Yes." Her voice came out breathless, and a moan followed as she took more of him.
“Jesus, Eleanor… Bloody good…” he groaned.
When she was fully seated, they both went still, simply breathing together.
“Such a tight cunny…” he breathed, his lids heavy with lust.
Eleanor hardly registered the shock she felt at his vulgarity. Instead, she rolled her hips experimentally, and they both groaned.
“Do that again,” he managed with effort.
When she rolled her hips again, a groan left his lips. What followed was a slow, sweet exploration—Eleanor learning how to move above him, Aubrey guiding her with his hands on her hips, rocking her over his cock as they both discovered what brought pleasure.
"I love you," Aubrey said hoarsely as they moved together. "God, Eleanor, I love you so much."
She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving no space between them as their rhythm increased.
"I love you too," she gasped. "I love you; I love—"
She muffled her own cry with a kiss, shattering around him as he swallowed her scream.
She pulsed around him, and he exploded moments later.
He emptied himself inside her with a groan, holding her tight against his chest as they both trembled.
They slowed their movements gradually, not wanting to break the contact through aftershocks.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Eleanor sat with him still inside her, her face buried in his neck, their hearts beating in tandem.
"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Stay with me tonight."
"Always," he promised. "Every night, for the rest of our lives."