Bridal Favors - Engaged in Wickedness (15 page)

"Edward?"

"I am trying... to do this... right," he said.

She squeezed her thighs against his, trying to help steady him. His breath caught and his hips jerked, pushing him deeper inside her.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Pain?"

"No. Just... oh." She had no words to describe the sensation of fullness, of invasion. And yet she didn't dislike it.

Then he pulled out. She exhaled in relief and disappointment. How could she feel both at the same time? But then there was no more room for thought as he slid back in, a little deeper this time.

She liked that. She liked the shift and change. Out. Then in.

Out.

Then a full thrust!

A flash of pain, like a bolt of lightning though her body. It was startling. And it hurt! She must have cried out. She must have because her mouth was open and her breath was stopped hard in her chest. But her attention was lower down where he was inside her. And strangely, it didn't hurt so much anymore.

"Gwen?" His lower body was completely resting on her and he was so large inside her. "Gwen, love—"

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Take a moment," he said, his voice nearly shaking.

She nodded, and saw his eyes nearly roll back in his head. "Am... am I ruined now?" she asked.

He lowered slowly down to lie on her belly. Then he pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Completely ruined."

"Oh good. Does it get better?"

He exhaled slowly, then shifted enough to drop kisses to her cheek, along her jaw line, and then to her ear. "Much better," he said. "But you must stop me if it still hurts. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered. "But... will it?"

He didn't answer except to slowly withdraw from her. She gasped, not in pain but in awareness. It felt... nice. In fact, it was beginning to feel very nice as he slid back in, slow and full until he could grind against her.

Oh! That was very nice!

And as he began his motions again, she started to shift with him. She let him pull away, but as he thrust forward again, she arched into his stroke. The impact sent shooting sparks through her mind and her belly began to tighten with hunger.

This part she recognized. But it was so much better because he was there with her. He was sharing it with her.

She looked into his eyes only to find him looking back with such joy. She didn't know how she knew. His face was flushed, his breath coming in short pants. His eyes were even fluttering a bit as his body tensed.

She knew he was close, as was she. It was there in every beat of their hearts. But there was so much more. Joy. Love.

He loved her.

She loved him.

And then...

Oh yes!

* * *

They stayed curled about one another for a very long time. The first he stirred was to press kisses to her forehead. The first she moved was to burrow tighter into his side. He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his body into hers. She sighed and made a sound as close to a purr as a human could make.

But in time, he shifted. "The doctor said you should have a hot bath with oil."

"Can't I just lie here forever?"

"I have to get you home. How did you get here anyway?"

She pressed her nose hard against his chest, mostly to hide from the scolding she knew she would get. "I told my chaperone that I was going home with Debra. That tomorrow was her wedding and she wanted me to be with her."

"And you found a cab?"

"Yes."

"You cannot keep doing that. It's dangerous."

"I know," she quipped. "I might get ruined."

He sighed, but there was laughter in the sound. "I will get you some water and a cloth. Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head and pulled away from him because he was right. She did want a cloth. She watched him shift out of bed and take a moment to manage himself. Then he went to the basin and cursed at the empty pitcher.

"I need more water. Wait here a moment. I will fetch it right away."

She smiled. "I hardly think I'm going anywhere."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before hastily grabbing his clothes. Then he picked up the pitcher and ducked out, presumably to the kitchen and fresh water.

But Gwen had never been one for waiting on anything. There was a cloth to use, even without water and soon she was donning her clothes. She was in the process of trying to button her gown when she chanced to look at his desk. She didn't intentionally read what was written there so much as see what was before her. But then the meaning slipped into her brain.

It was a list of stratagems regarding her. Ways to isolate her without chaperonage. She smiled as she saw how neatly he itemized his plans and she picked up the pages to read them more closely.

But there were a lot of pages. More than a dozen, each older than the first, going back to...

She straightened, her mind reeling from what she saw. His pages went back to the very first moment they had met. Or that she remembered meeting him. Right there before her was a deliberate plan to spill lemonade on her. And it was only one out of four possible scenarios! He'd apparently discarded falling into her during a dance. He labeled that as too risky of looking like a boob. Which was certainly true.

Another choice had been to find some way to manipulate her friends or chaperones. But that was labeled too difficult simply from the list of her possible companions and chaperones. The number was surprising, even to her.

In the end, he'd obviously selected "punch spill" and had worked out the timing for optimum privacy in the ladies retiring room. And he'd even made a note that he had to think of a good lie as to why he had a change of gown for Debra.

It had all been a plan. From the very beginning, their courtship had been a deliberately executed plan. The thought was horrifying. And he was such a good liar that she'd never suspected a thing!

All of a sudden, everything she thought she knew, everything they'd done came into question. Was it true? Was it a lie? And now she was ruined!

What had she done?

She heard him coming up the stairs. His tread was steady and measured, just what she would expect. She might have taken it for a sign of dependability, but now she wondered if it a sign of carefully construction deception. She was being ridiculous, but she couldn't fight the panic. She didn't know what to think, so she did the only thing she could.

She hastily folded up the pages in her hands and stuffed them into her reticule. It made the thing bulge ridiculously large, but it was her only choice. Then she whirled around as he pushed open the door.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to take so long..." he said as saw that she was nearly dressed. "Gwen?"

"I'm fine, Edward. I didn't really need the water at all. I am not so missish like other girls. So I thought I'd just, you know, use the cloth and so I did. Really simple. But my dress buttons in the back and I was struggling with it. Very awkward not to have hands that twist that way. Haha. Funny thought that." She was babbling, her voice too high and her hands much too clumsy.

He obviously knew something was wrong because he set the pitcher aside and came straight for her. She flinched slightly as he set his hands on her shoulders. But when he did nothing more than rest his hands there, she slowly calmed.

Odd how he could still comfort her without even saying a word even when she was busy questioning everything. She bit her lip to hold back more nervous words. And in time, she was able to straighten to her full height—which barely topped his shoulders—and breathe easily once again.

"I'm being silly," she told herself, thinking about his elaborate stratagems.

"You have taken a bold step and that can be frightening." He was talking about what they'd done and she glanced guiltily at the bed.

"Was it this way for you the first time?" She wasn't even sure what she was asking. Was it always so wonderful between lovers? If so, no wonder her father spent his life whoring. Or had this been different? And how much of it was just the physical joy? And how much a lie?

He snorted. "The first time I was so drunk, I can barely remember what happened. I was seventeen and on holiday from school. My friends pooled their money and sent me to a brothel."

She frowned as she looked into his face. Truth? Or lie? It certainly sounded like the truth. "And the other times?"

He shook his head. "There haven't been that many, Gwen."

She grimaced at him. That's not what she was asking. And truthfully, she had no interest in knowing exactly how many other women he had done this with. At this point, she didn't know if she'd believe what he said in any event.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and slowly enfolded her in his arms. She wanted to resist, but his touch was seductive. In the end, she hugged him as tightly as he held her. She wanted to feel his strength even if it was a lie.

"I have only done this a few times, Gwen, which hardly makes me an expert. I can tell you that it always feels good, but that this was..." His voice softened and his arms tightened around her. "It was beyond anything I've ever felt before. It was love, Gwen, and that made this incredible."

Was he just saying that to convince her? Were the words true? Or just another elaborate plan?

He drew back to look at her face. She did her best to school her features, but she wasn't very good at hiding what she felt. Her doubts must have shown on her face because he sighed.

"It is a lot to think about, I suppose. It's only natural that you wonder about it. But I swear Gwen, it will only get better between us. I swear it."

He spoke the words like a vow, and she felt her fears recede. They didn't disappear, but they did ease their grip on her mind. So she managed a smile as she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

She would have deepened it, but he stopped her. "Let me button up your dress," he said as he gently turned her around. "Mrs. Winters is in bed now and there is no one else at home yet. There is a cab waiting outside. That's what took me so long. I saw it when I was downstairs and hailed it. If we go very quickly, I can get you into it before anyone sees."

He was still worried for her reputation. That was both reassuring and infinitely sweet, especially as she had set out to get herself ruined. "I can still climb out the window, you know."

"The devil you will!" he said as he made quick work of her buttons. Then he put her cloak about her, drawing the hood up high so that her face didn't show. A minute later they were out the door and stepping into a carriage.

He rode with her back to her home, and they held hands the whole time. They didn't speak at all. Perhaps he was thinking too, or perhaps he just knew her moods enough to know that she valued the quiet. There was so much to think about.

But just as they were pulling up outside her home, he pulled her close.

"I will see you at Debra's wedding, yes?"

"I'm a bridesmaid."

"Oh, yes. Of course you are. I'd forgotten."

She frowned at him, wondering at his odd tone. He seemed nervous somehow. "Edward?"

"Can I see you after the ceremony? We could go to the wedding breakfast together."

She shook her head. "I don't know if there will be time. Robert will be escorting me, and you know he never lets me out of his sight now. He's worse even than Mrs. Gavelstone and she's a harpy."

He laughed at that, but it didn't sound sincere. "But you'll look for me, won't you? You'll try to see me?"

"Of course—"

"Because I have to leave day after tomorrow. I can't wait longer. I have responsibilities that I've neglected."

Her blood froze. He was leaving? In two days? But, of course he was. Hadn't she thought that the very first time he'd spilled punch—on purpose—on her? That he was a country baronet, in town for a moment and then gone. His sort never stayed for long.

"Gwen?"

"Uh, yes. Yes. Of course I'll look for you."

He exhaled in relief, but there wasn't time to say more as the cabbie rapped on the rooftop. It was time for her to go. So she turned and rushed out, flat out running for the servants' door. She always entered there when she came home like this.

She rushed inside only stopping to peer out when she was up in her bedroom with the door shut tight. But she couldn't see anything. Her room faced the back. But she heard the noise of the cab leaving. Only then did she close her eyes and let the enormity of the evening wash over her.

She stayed where she was for a time, then eventually undressed. She readied herself for bed, but she couldn't sleep. She checked on her mother who was sleeping soundly. She built up the coals in her room and pulled a chair up to the heat.

Then, when she could think of no other way to delay, she slowly pulled his notes out of her reticule. She spread them on her lap and studied each one. It was an hour or more later that she let the pieces fall into place in her mind.

He had planned on her seduction. From the very beginning, he had planned it. And she had walked willingly into his arms. She'd climbed into his bedroom too! What a fool she'd been! Because after everything was said and done, there was one, single inescapable fact:

Despite all his talk of honor, he had still not proposed.

Chapter 13