A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (31 page)

“Quite.” She burrowed into him, loving the heat of him, the smell of him, the sound of his heart hammering away. “Are you?”

He chuckled. “My comfort will come later, minx, but right now I’m happy to have you in my arms, jelly-bones and all.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lord and Lady Weston invited me to their home after the wedding feast. The entire family gathered there, and I would not be surprised if they are still celebrating today. I enjoyed myself to no end, but you might have warned me. There was never a quiet moment from the time I entered the house. Lady Weston and Lady Sheldon already have a list of at least seven brides in mind for me, one of the twins—a girl still in the schoolroom!—made sheep’s eyes at me, I made sheep’s eyes at your husband’s aunt, and I somehow managed to lose three of the buttons on my waistcoat. Oh, and I overheard Lady Dunston whisper to her sister that she should have given you some warning about the carriage. Given the other things they said last night, I am not sure I want to know…

—FROM ALEXANDER MERRIWETHER TO HIS SISTER DIANA WESTON

“W
AKE UP, SWEETHEART
.”

Diana mumbled her refusal. She was having the most incredible dream. Henry’s mouth was on her breasts, kissing, nipping, and sucking, but she felt him everywhere. Every brush of his lips, scrape of his teeth and lap of his tongue echoed out in shimmering waves. They built upon themselves, until desire pounded through her relentlessly.

“Come, wake up and kiss me.” A gentle tug on her hair. A lingering caress along her outer thigh. “We’re almost there.”

She
was
almost there, if only he would
touch
her. She wriggled her hips, trying to show him what she wanted. He licked the curve between her shoulder and neck, then bit her, just hard enough to clear the dream-daze from her brain. He claimed her mouth the second she came fully awake, and then fractured her concentration with another soft stroke on her inner thigh.

He grazed her other thigh, a little higher up, and she melted for him. When he finally touched her where she wanted, his fingers cruised over her slick folds as effortlessly as a wherry through the Thames. He didn’t move quickly, though. No, he meandered as he charted his course, changing directions and skimming the banks until she lost patience and sank her teeth into his lower lip.

He grunted, his hips jerking beneath her, as he tore his mouth from hers. His lips curved into a sensuous, wicked grin, and a knowing glint lit in his eyes. “Are you frantic yet, sweetheart?”

“No,” she lied.

“I must remedy that.” As he spoke, he slid one finger inside her.

She moaned as her body welcomed him without hesitation, only a jolt of pleasure. A second finger joined the first, stretching her a little, and as before, the slight pinch of discomfort intensified her pleasure. She tensed, waiting for the flames to consume her, but they only burned hotter and brighter.

Henry sucked at the tip of her tongue in time with the shallow thrust of his fingers, both matching the rhythmic swaying of the carriage. He swallowed her cries as their tongues tangled—dancing, dueling, daring each other past reason. He barely moved within her, keeping her poised at the edge of the cliff, but careful not to let her fall over the edge.

The sensation was incredible, the pleasure almost excruciating. Every so often, the carriage would hit a rut or a stone and the resulting jolt would drive him deeper. She felt herself slipping, teetering for balance. She never thought she’d pray for a poorly maintained road, but several large ruts in succession would be more than welcome right about now.

“Why are you torturing me?” she moaned. Her voice was breathy, husky with desire. She didn’t sound like a tortured woman.

“Are you fevered yet, Di?” he demanded. His tone was rough, his breathing ragged.

She remembered his earlier words.
I intend for you to be frantic. Fevered. So desperate to have me inside you that you don’t care about the pain.

Yes. Heavens, yes.
She was all of those things. Frantic. Fevered. Desperate. She didn’t care about the pain. She wanted the explosive release she knew he could give her.

“Yes. Please,
yes
!” The last word was a wailed plea. She didn’t care how smug her words made him. She’d passed the point of denials.

“Good.” He withdrew his hand.

“W-what? No!” she cried.

“Soon,” he crooned. “If I give you pleasure now, you’ll tighten up. Besides, I’d prefer to have you awake.”

She watched in astonishment as he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked her wetness from his fingers. She should have been appalled, but every draw of his mouth wound her tighter. Her thighs clenched as she watched his eyes darken to a blue as deep and boundless as a summer night sky. “I should’ve taken you before we left London,” he said, his voice strained.

Diana agreed wholeheartedly, but it was too late for that. “Take me now,” she urged. “You said you could take me here in the coach. Forget about the bed. Please, I need you now.”

“No.” He clamped his lips resolutely and lifted her off his lap. He set her beside him and attempted to dress her. Diana didn’t resist, but she didn’t cooperate either. Her breathing was becoming more regular, but her body was still burning. Dressing seemed counterproductive to dousing the fire raging within her.

Henry twitched the curtains aside and looked out. “In about five minutes, we’ll reach the drive,” he informed her. “When we reach the house, I’m dragging you out of this carriage, whatever your state of undress. The servants are all away for the night, and Jasper will look away…” He tapped a finger against his cheek. “I rather like the idea of carrying you over the threshold bare-breasted.”

His words spurred her into action. She hurried to draw her arms back through her shift, petticoat, and gown. There simply wasn’t enough time to lace up her stays. She turned and held her hair out of the way so Henry could fasten the garments. He was a very efficient lady’s maid. She tried not to think it was due to his having done it so many times.

“What need have I of Ellie when you are so capable of dressing me?” she teased.

“I prefer to
un
dress you.” He kissed her nape, lightly raking his teeth over the sensitive skin.

“You are also very skilled at that,” she assured him.

He reached out and drew up the curtains. “Look, Di.” He pointed out the window at the red brick manor, and Diana had her first glimpse of Ravensfield Hall. She reached blindly for Henry’s hand.

“Does it please you?” he asked softly.

She squeezed his hand and nodded, unable to speak. She’d floated through the past month, through the morning’s ceremony, through her husband’s—
her husband!
—idea of a carriage ride. She’d feared more than once that she’d dreamed everything. Seeing the place where they would make their home together struck her as real, solid, and enduring.

Worried she might cry, she turned her attention to the mess at her feet. She let go of Henry’s hand and began snatching up various articles of her clothing. “You might be as skilled as Ellie, but you are nowhere near as neat.”

Henry watched her in silent amusement as she rolled up her stays and laces, wrapped them in her spencer, and tied the parcel with the ribbon from her hair. He retrieved her gloves from the pocket on the coach door, and she handed him his cravat in exchange. He made no move to dress.

“Henry?” She gestured to his bare throat before pulling on her gloves.

She frowned as he started to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. “Whatever are you doing?”

His smile turned to a look of fierce, sensual intent. “Since you appear determined to dress, I have decided to compensate.” His waistcoat hit the floor. “That’s a few seconds saved.” He gathered handfuls of his shirt and tugged it free of his breeches.

“Henry, you can’t—”

He drew his shirt over his head. Her heart stuttered, possibly because she’d stopped breathing. She’d felt the hard muscles of Henry’s shoulders and back through his clothes, seen classical statues in her grandfather’s collection and at the British Museum. Nothing had prepared her for this.

He really was the most beautiful man. Diana licked her lips as her gaze wandered the strong, corded muscles of his arms. Hair the color of burnished gold dusted the firm planes of his chest, vanished on the sculpted span of his abdomen, and then reappeared in a line beneath his navel.

Her fingers itched to explore the different textures of his body. Would the hair on his chest prove soft or wiry? Were the small brown points of his nipples sensitive like hers were? What would they feel like beneath her fingertips… or the tip of her tongue?

“Jesus, Di, I’ll end up taking you on the front steps if you keep looking at me like that,” Henry growled as the carriage began to slow. He opened the door and jumped out before they came to a full halt. Diana clutched her bundle of clothing as Henry swung her into his arms.

“Jasper,” he said, addressing the man in the driver’s seat, “you are as excellent a groom as you are a valet. My wife wishes me to tell you that this is the most enjoyable ride she has ever experienced.”

“Henry!” Diana shoved her elbow against the solid wall of his chest.

“You’re right, my sweet,” Henry agreed. “I’m wasting precious seconds. Jasper, like everyone else, you are dismissed for tonight. I expect some of the grooms are celebrating at the Saracen and Ring in Great Bookham, should you wish to join them. Spread the word in the servants’ hall tomorrow that we are not to be disturbed until…” He grinned. “We’ll ring when we wish for assistance.”

“I will never be able to face him again,” she groaned.

Henry turned and hurried toward the house. “You won’t see anyone else. I’ve arranged for us to have this night entirely to ourselves.”

The front door opened to reveal a short, round man with spectacles and a cheery smile. His smile broadened as he took in their appearances. “Mr. and Mrs. Weston, allow me to offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

“Timms, I didn’t expect you here.” Surprise and impatience colored Henry’s voice, but he didn’t seem at all perturbed at being bare-chested while conversing with their new butler.

The man chuckled. “I only came by to leave a cold supper out for the pair of you. My wife feared you would go hungry with no one here.”

“We thank you both.” Henry stepped into the house and resumed his quick pace toward the stairs. Diana tried to look around at her new home, but she only caught glimpses of colors and flashes of light on polished wood. “Your mistress and I will see you sometime next week,” Henry called down to the butler as he bounded up the stairs.

“Next week?” she asked.

“I don’t plan on letting you out of my bed before then,” he replied, his expression entirely serious. “I’m glad we decided my bare chest should cross the threshold instead of yours.” His eyes twinkled. “I might have had to give Timms the sack if he’d seen you so.”

She swallowed hard as he stopped in front of a door and dipped his arms so she could open it. His bedchamber. He walked inside, kicked the door closed with a booted foot, then strode to the bed and set her down.

“Should you lock the door?” she wondered.

“All of the servants have been dismissed for the night. They all have families nearby to stay with, and Ellie’s gone with Mr. and Mrs. Timms. I’m the only one who will hear you yelling tonight,” he promised, starting once more to undo the buttons on her gown. From the speed of his progress, she surmised that he hadn’t been overly diligent in doing them up.

“Lord, you’re more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured as his gaze roamed over her body, naked now, save for her shoes, stockings, and garters, which he quickly removed.

“You’re still dressed,” she blurted out in dismay.

“Not for long.” He laughed, an edge of need to the sound, and bent over to remove his shoes. She glanced away when he started on the buttons on his breeches, and then he pounced, rolling with her on the bed, his bare limbs tangling with hers. She’d only just begun to process the feeling of his naked body pressed to hers when he kissed her, hot and open-mouthed, and, in moments, she was back to the place she’d been in the carriage.

Frantic. Fevered. Desperate.

She cried out as he eased his hand between their bodies, arching up into his touch. He circled the sensitive little bud that sent shocks of pleasure echoing through her body, and then dipped two fingers inside her, stroking her until she was just about to topple over the edge.

“No,” she pleaded, when he removed his hand. “Not again.”

“This time we’re going to fly together, Di,” he promised.

She kept her gaze fixed on his and saw her emotions reflected back at her in shades of blue. The sharp flash of heated desire that bolted up her spine as he rubbed the tip of his sex against her… The fight for composure as he pushed in that first bit… The wonder of joining their bodies like this… She gasped as he rocked his hips, pressing in a little further.

“Am I hurting you?” he gritted out.

He was much larger than his fingers, and the stretching verged more on pain than an erotic pinch. She saw the lines of control etched on his face, knew the restraint he was employing on her behalf.