The Viscount Who Loved Me (14 page)

“I’m going to make you mine now,” he said, inching forward as he spoke. Her body tightened spasmodically around him; the feeling was so exquisite he had to grit his teeth against it. It would be so, so easy to lose himself in
the moment, to plunge forward and seek only his own pleasure.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered hoarsely, allowing himself to move forward only by tiny increments. She was certainly aroused, but she was very small, and he knew he needed to give her time to adjust to his intimate invasion.

She nodded.

He froze, barely able to comprehend the stab of pain in his chest. “It hurts?”

She shook her head. “No, I only meant I’ll tell you if it does. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels so very…odd.”

Anthony fought a smile and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called odd while making love to a woman before.”

For a moment it looked as if she were afraid that she’d insulted him, then her mouth quivered into a small smile. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “you’ve been making love to the wrong women.”

“Perhaps so,” he replied, moving forward yet another inch.

“May I tell you a secret?” she asked.

He nudged farther. “Of course,” he murmured.

“When I first saw you…tonight, I mean…”

“In all my glory?” he teased, lifting his brows into an arrogant arch.

She shot him a rather enchanting scowl. “I didn’t think this could possibly work.”

He moved forward. He was close, so close to embedding himself fully within her. “May I tell
you
a secret?” he returned.

“Of course.”

“Your secret”—one more little thrust and he was resting against her maidenhead—“wasn’t very much of a secret.”

Her brows drew together in question.

He grinned. “It was written all over your face.”

She scowled again, and it made him want to explode in
laughter. “But now,” he said, keeping a scrupulously straight face, “I have a question for you.”

She gazed at him in response, clearly waiting for him to elucidate further.

He leaned down, brushed his lips against her ear, and whispered, “What do you think now?”

For a moment she didn’t respond in any way, then he felt her start in surprise when she finally figured out what he was asking. “Are we done?” she asked in clear disbelief.

This time he did burst out in laughter. “Far from it, my dear wife,” he gasped, wiping his eyes with one hand as he tried to hold himself up with the other. “Far, far from it.” His eyes growing serious, he added, “This is where it might hurt a little, Kate. But I promise you, the pain will never be repeated.”

She nodded, but he could feel her body tense up, which he knew would only make it worse. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Relax.”

She nodded, her eyes shut. “I am relaxed.”

He was glad she couldn’t see him smile. “You are most definitely
not
relaxed.”

Her eyes flew open. “Yes, I am.”

“I can’t believe this,” Anthony said, as if there were someone else in the room to hear him. “She’s arguing with me on our wedding night.”

“I’m—”

He cut her off with a finger to her lips. “Are you ticklish?”

“Am I
ticklish
?”

He nodded. “Ticklish.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“That sounds like a yes to me,” he said with a grin.

“Not at—Oooohhh!” She let out a squeal as one of his hands found a particularly sensitive spot under arm. “Anthony, stop!” she gasped, squirming desperately beneath him. “I can’t bear it! I—”

He plunged forward.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my.”

He groaned, barely able to believe just how good it felt to be buried completely within her. “Oh, my, indeed.”

“We’re not done now, are we?”

He shook his head slowly as his body began to move in an ancient rhythm. “Not even close,” he murmured.

His mouth took hers as one of his hands snaked up to caress her breast. She was utter perfection beneath him, her hips rising to meet his, moving tentatively at first, then with a vigor that matched her rising passion.

“Oh, God, Kate,” he moaned, his ability to form flowery sentences completely lost in the primitive heat of the moment. “You’re so good. So good.”

Her breath was coming faster and faster, and each little wispy gasp inflamed his passion even more. He wanted to possess her, to own her, to hold her beneath him and never let her go. And with each thrust it was getting more difficult to put her needs before his. His mind screamed that this was her first time and he had to have a care for her, but his body demanded release.

With a ragged groan, he forced himself to stop thrusting and catch his breath. “Kate?” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. It sounded hoarse, detached, desperate.

Her eyes, which had been closed as her head tossed from side to side, flew open. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, “please don’t stop. I’m so close to something…I don’t know what.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, plunging back in to the hilt, throwing his head back as his spine arched. “You’re so beautiful, so unbelievably—Kate?”

She’d stiffened beneath him, and not in climax.

He froze. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

He saw a brief flash of pain—the emotional sort, not the physical—flash across her face before she hid it and whispered, “Nothing.”

“That’s not true,” he said in a low voice. His arms were
straining from holding himself above her, but he barely noticed. Every fiber of his being was focused on her face, which was shuttered and pained, despite her obvious attempts to hide it.

“You called me beautiful,” she whispered.

For a good ten seconds he just stared at her. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how that was a bad thing. But then again, he’d never professed to understand the female mind. He thought he should simply reaffirm the statement, that she
was
beautiful, and what the hell was the problem, but a little voice inside warned him that this was one of
those
moments, and no matter what he said, it would be the wrong thing, so he decided to tread very, very carefully, and he just murmured her name, which he had a feeling might be the only word guaranteed not to get him into trouble.

“I’m not beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. She looked shattered and broken, but before he could contradict her, she asked, “Who were you picturing?”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Who do you think of when you make love to me?”

Anthony felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The breath whooshed from his body. “Kate,” he said slowly. “Kate, you’re mad, you’re—”

“I know a man doesn’t have to feel desire for a woman to find pleasure with her,” she cried out.

“You think I don’t desire you?” he choked out. God in heaven, he was ready to explode right now within her and he hadn’t even moved for the last thirty seconds.

Her lower lip trembled between her teeth, and a muscle spasmed in her neck. “Do you—do you think of Edwina?”

Anthony froze. “How could I
possibly
confuse the two of you?”

Kate felt her face crumple, felt hot tears stinging at her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, oh, God, especially not now, but it hurt, it hurt so much, and—

His hand grasped her cheeks with stunning speed, forcing her to look up at him.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice even and intense, “and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn’t
like
you, I lusted for you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I’m going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn’t see that, then they’re all bloody fools.”

Kate wouldn’t have thought it possible for her mouth to fall open while she was lying down, but somehow it did.

One of his brows arched into what had to be the most arrogant expression ever to grace a face. “Is that understood?”

She just stared at him, not quite able to form a response.

He leaned down until his nose was a mere inch from hers. “Is that understood?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he grunted, and then, before she had a moment even to catch her breath, his lips were devouring hers in a kiss so fierce she was clutching the bed just to keep from screaming. His hips ground into hers, frenzied in their power, thrusting, rotating, stroking her until she was certain she must be on fire.

She clutched at him, not certain whether she was trying to bind him to her or tear him away. “I can’t do this,” she moaned, certain she would shatter. Her muscles were stiff, tense, and it was getting hard to breathe.

But if he’d heard her, he didn’t care. His face was a harsh mask of concentration, sweat beading on his brow.

“Anthony,” she gasped, “I can—”

One of his hands slipped between them and touched her intimately, and she screamed. He slammed forward one
last time, and her world simply fell apart. She was stiff, then shaking, then she thought she must be falling. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even gasp. Her throat had to be closing, and her head fell back as her hands grabbed at the mattress with a ferocity she’d never have believed she possessed.

He went utterly still above her, his mouth open in a silent scream, and then he collapsed, the weight of him pressing her farther into the mattress.

“Oh, my God,” he gasped, his body now shaking. “Never…it’s never…so good…it’s never been so good.”

Kate, who’d had a few seconds longer to recover, smiled as she smoothed his hair. A wicked thought came to her, a perfectly wonderful wicked thought. “Anthony?” she murmured.

How he lifted his head she would never know, because it looked like it took a Herculean effort just to open his eyes and grunt his response.

She smiled, slowly, and with a womanly seductiveness she’d learned just that evening. Letting one of her fingers trail down the angular edge of his jaw, she whispered, “Are we done yet?”

For a second he made no response, then his lips broke into a smile far more devilish than she could ever have imagined. “For now,” he murmured huskily, rolling onto his side and pulling her along with him. “But only for now.”

T
he next few weeks flew by in a delirious rush. After a brief stay in the country at Aubrey Hall, the newlyweds returned to London, where the season was in full swing. Kate had hoped to use her afternoons to resume her flute lessons, but she quickly discovered that she was in great demand, and her days were filled with social calls, shopping excursions with her family, and the occasional ride in
the park. Her evenings were a whirlwind of balls and parties.

But her nights were for Anthony alone.

Marriage, she decided, agreed with her. She saw less of Anthony than she would have liked, but she understood and accepted that he was a very busy man. His many concerns, both in Parliament and on his estates, took up a great deal of his time. But when he returned home at night and met her in the bedroom (no separate bedchambers for Lord and Lady Bridgerton!) he was marvelously attentive, asking about her day, telling her of his, and making love to her until the wee hours of the night.

He’d even taken the time to listen to her practice her flute. She’d managed to hire a musician to come and tutor her two mornings a week. Considering the (not very expert) level of play which Kate had achieved, Anthony’s willingness to sit through an entire thirty minutes of rehearsal could only be interpreted as a sign of great affection.

Of course, it did not escape her notice that he’d never repeated the gesture.

Hers was a fine existence, a far better marriage than most women of her station could expect. If her husband did not love her, if he would never love her, then at least he did a good job of making her feel cared for and appreciated. And for now Kate was able to content herself with that.

And if he seemed distant during the day, well, he certainly wasn’t distant at night.

The rest of society, however, and Edwina in particular, had gotten it into their heads that Lord and Lady Bridgerton’s marriage was a love match. Edwina had taken to visiting in the afternoons, and this day was no exception. She and Kate were sitting in the drawing room, sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits, enjoying a rare moment of privacy now that Kate had bidden farewell to her daily swarm of visitors.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to see how the new viscountess was getting along, and Kate’s drawing room was almost never empty in the afternoon.

Newton had hopped up onto the sofa beside Edwina, and she was idly stroking his fur as she said, “Everyone is talking about you today.”

Kate didn’t even pause as she lifted her tea to her lips and took a sip. “Everyone is always talking about me,” she said with a shrug. “They’ll soon find another topic.”

“Not,” Edwina replied, “as long as your husband keeps looking at you the way he did last night.”

Kate felt her cheeks grow warm. “He did nothing out of the ordinary,” she murmured.

“Kate, he was positively smoldering!” Edwina shifted her position as Newton shifted his, letting her know with a little whine that he wanted his belly rubbed. “I personally saw him push Lord Haveridge out of the way in his haste to reach your side.”

“We arrived separately,” Kate explained, although her heart was filling with a secret—and most probably foolish—joy. “I’m sure he just had something he needed to tell me.”

Edwina looked dubious. “And did he?”

“Did he what?”

“
Tell
you something,” Edwina said with palpable exasperation. “You just said you were sure he just had something he needed to tell you. If that were the case, wouldn’t he have told you whatever it was? And then you’d
know
he had something to tell you, right?”

Kate blinked. “Edwina, you’re making me dizzy.”

Edwina’s lips smooshed together in a disgruntled frown. “You never tell me anything.”

“Edwina, there’s nothing to tell!” Kate reached forward, grabbed a biscuit, and took a large, extremely uncouth bite so that her mouth would be too full to speak. What was she supposed to say to her sister—that before
they’d even wed, her husband had informed her in a most matter-of-fact and straightforward manner that he would never love her?

That would make for charming conversation over tea and biscuits.

“Well,” Edwina finally announced, after watching Kate chew for an improbable full minute, “I actually had another reason for coming here today. I have something I wish to tell you.”

Kate swallowed gratefully. “Really?”

Edwina nodded, then blushed.

“What is it?” Kate implored, sipping at her tea. Her mouth was awfully dry after all that chewing.

“I think I’m in love.”

Kate nearly spit out her tea. “With whom?”

“Mr. Bagwell.”

Try as she might, Kate could not for the life of her recall who Mr. Bagwell was.

“He’s a scholar,” Edwina said with a dreamy sigh. “I met him at Lady Bridgerton’s country house party.”

“I don’t recall meeting him,” Kate said, her brow knitting into thoughtful lines.

“You were rather busy throughout the visit,” Edwina replied in an ironic voice. “Getting yourself betrothed and all that.”

Kate pulled the sort of face one could only display with a sibling. “Just tell me about Mr. Bagwell.”

Edwina’s eyes grew warm and bright. “He’s a second son, I’m afraid, so he cannot expect much in the way of income. But now that you’ve married so well, I needn’t worry about that.”

Kate felt an unexpected welling of tears in her eyes. She hadn’t realized just how pressured Edwina must have felt earlier that season. She and Mary had been careful to assure Edwina that she might marry anyone she liked, but they had all known exactly where their finances stood, and
they had certainly all been guilty of making jokes about how it was just as easy to fall in love with a wealthy man as it was with a poor one.

It only took one look at Edwina’s face to realize that a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone who suits you,” Kate murmured.

“Oh, he does. I know that we shall not have much in the way of money, but truly, I don’t need silks and jewels.” Her eyes fell on the glittering diamond on Kate’s hand. “Not that I think you do, of course!” she quickly interjected, her face growing red. “Just that—”

“Just that it’s nice not to have to worry about supporting your sister and mother,” Kate finished for her in a gentle voice.

Edwina let out a huge sigh. “Exactly.”

Kate reached across the table and took her sister’s hands in hers. “You certainly needn’t worry about me, and I’m sure that Anthony and I will always be able to provide for Mary, should she ever need assistance.”

Edwina’s lips curved into a wobbly smile.

“As for you,” Kate added, “I think it’s high time you were able to think only of yourself for a change. To make a decision based on what
you
desire, not what you think others need.”

Edwina pulled one of her hands free to brush back a tear. “I really like him,” she whispered.

“Then I am certain I will like him as well,” Kate said firmly. “When may I meet him?”

“He is in Oxford for the next fortnight, I’m afraid. He has prior commitments which I should not want him to break on my account.”

“Of course not,” Kate murmured. “You wouldn’t want to marry the sort of gentleman who does not honor his commitments.”

Edwina nodded in agreement. “I received a letter from him this morning, though, and he says he will come down
to London at the end of the month and hopes that he might call on me.”

Kate smiled wickedly. “He’s already sending you letters?”

Edwina nodded and blushed. “Several per week,” she admitted.

“And what is his area of study?”

“Archaeology. He’s quite brilliant. He has been to Greece. Twice!”

Kate hadn’t thought that her sister—already renowned throughout the land for her beauty—could possibly grow any lovelier, but when Edwina spoke of her Mr. Bagwell, her face shone with a radiance that was nothing short of heart-stopping.

“I cannot wait to meet him,” Kate announced. “We must have an informal dinner party with him as our guest of honor.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“And perhaps the three of us might go for a ride in the park ahead of time so that we might become better acquainted. Now that I am an old married lady, I qualify as a suitable chaperone.” Kate let out a little laugh. “Isn’t that funny?”

A very amused, very male voice sounded from the doorway: “Isn’t what funny?”

“Anthony!” Kate exclaimed, surprised to see her husband in the middle of the day. He always seemed to have appointments and meetings that kept him from their home. “How delightful to see you.”

He smiled slightly as he nodded toward Edwina in greeting. “I found myself with an unexpected block of free time.”

“Would you care to join us for tea?”

“I’ll join you,” he murmured as he crossed the room and picked up a crystal decanter that sat on a mahogany side table, “but I believe I’ll have a brandy instead.”

Kate watched as he poured himself a drink, then
swirled it absently in his hand. It was at times like these that she found it so difficult to keep her heart out of her eyes. He was so handsome in the late afternoon. She wasn’t sure why; maybe it was the faint hint of stubble on his cheeks or the fact that his hair was always slightly mussed from whatever it was he did all day. Or maybe it was simply that she didn’t often get to see him this time of day; she’d once read a poem that said the unexpected moment was always sweeter.

As Kate gazed upon her husband, she rather thought that poet might be right.

“So,” Anthony said after taking a sip of his drink, “what have you two ladies been discussing?”

Kate looked to her sister for permission to share her news, and when Edwina nodded, she said, “Edwina has met a gentleman she fancies.”

“Really?” Anthony asked, sounding interested in a strangely paternal sort of manner. He perched on the arm of Kate’s chair, a relaxed, overstuffed piece of furniture that was not at all in fashion but well loved nonetheless in the Bridgerton household for its uncommon comfort. “I should like to meet him,” he added.

“You should?” Edwina echoed, blinking like an owl. “You would?”

“Of course. In fact, I insist upon it.” When neither lady commented, he scowled a bit and added, “I am the head of the family, after all. That’s what we do.”

Edwina’s lips parted with surprise. “I—I hadn’t realized you felt a responsibility toward me.”

Anthony looked at her as if she’d gone momentarily insane. “You’re Kate’s sister,” he said, as if that should explain everything.

Edwina’s blank expression remained fixed on her face for another second, and then it melted into a rather radiant delight. “I have always wondered what it would be like to have a brother,” she said.

“I hope I pass muster,” Anthony grunted, not entirely comfortable with the sudden outpouring of emotion.

She beamed at him. “Brilliantly. I vow I do not understand why Eloise complains so much.”

Kate turned to Anthony and explained, “Edwina and your sister have become fast friends since our marriage.”

“God help us,” he muttered. “And what, may I ask, could Eloise possibly have to complain about?”

Edwina smiled innocently. “Oh, nothing, really. Just that you can, at times, be a touch overprotective.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed.

Kate choked on her tea. She was quite certain that by the time their daughters were of marriageable age, Anthony would have converted to Catholicism just so that he could lock them in a convent with twelve-foot walls!

Anthony glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “What are you laughing about?”

Kate quickly patted her mouth with a napkin, mumbling, “Nothing,” under the folds of the cloth.

“Hmmmph.”

“Eloise says that you were quite the bear when Daphne was being courted by Simon,” Edwina said.

“Oh, did she?”

Edwina nodded. “She says the two of you dueled!”

“Eloise talks too much,” Anthony grumbled.

Edwina nodded happily. “She always knows everything. Everything! Even more than Lady Whistledown.”

Anthony turned to Kate with an expression that was one part beleaguered and one part pure irony. “Remind me to buy a muzzle for my sister,” he said drolly. “And one for your sister as well.”

Edwina let out a musical laugh. “I never dreamed a brother would be as much fun to tease as a sister. I’m so glad you decided to marry him, Kate.”

“I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Kate said
with a dry smile, “but I’m rather pleased with the way things turned out myself.”

Edwina stood, waking up Newton, who had fallen into blissful sleep next to her on the sofa. He let out an affronted whine and toddled to the floor, where he promptly curled up under a table.

Edwina watched the dog and chuckled before saying, “I should be going. No, don’t see me out,” she added when both Kate and Anthony stood to escort her to the front door. “I can make my own way.”

“Nonsense,” Kate said, linking her arm in Edwina’s. “Anthony, I shall be right back.”

“I shall be counting the seconds,” he murmured, and then, as he took another sip of his drink, the two ladies left the room, followed by Newton, who was now barking enthusiastically, presumably guessing that someone was going to take him for a walk.