Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

It was heavenly. She knew the pleasure he could bring this time, and instead of lying back and letting him do all the work, she became an equal participant, striving to reach the finishing line alongside him. And this time, instead of a soft, gentle burst of pleasure, it was like a thousand rockets going off inside her, all at once. Shattering. Sparkling. Satisfying. So satisfying. She clutched at him, stroking his back as he settled over her, his face buried in her neck.

‘Mary,’ he growled after a moment or two. ‘Mary?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I know I said you could always have a room of your own,’ he said plaintively. ‘But I hope you’re not going to insist I find somewhere else tonight.’

‘You must be joking,’ she said. ‘I will need you to keep me warm.’

When he would have rolled off her, she clung on.

‘Not so fast.’

He half rose up to look down into her face.

‘You mean, now I can take it slowly?’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ she protested.

But with a wicked grin, he reached down between them and began to toy with her, just where their bodies were still joined.

She gasped. ‘I didn’t know... Can you do it all over again?’

‘It seems that with you, I can. You are an astonishing woman.’

‘Me?’ She looked up at him, perplexed. Though she couldn’t meet his eye for very long, not when he was doing what he was doing.

‘Oohh,’ she groaned.

‘Oh, indeed,’ he agreed. And wrapped her legs round his waist.

Chapter Nine

She didn’t know what woke her, but the moment she did so, she knew she was alone. And the place where her husband had been was cold.

She could hear windows rattling somewhere, chimneys moaning as the wind protested its inability to get in. The fire had died down considerably, but it still cast a dim glow over the room. She snuggled down further into the pile of clothing that had become her bed, marvelling that she could feel so calm, that the sounds of the storm raging outside only made her feel more secure.

She’d never known this. This complete faith that she was safe. There’d always been a feeling of dread hanging over her, as far back as she could remember. But it had gone now.

She rather thought it had started to lift the moment Lord Havelock had slid his ring on to her finger.

She heard the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, then, as she turned her head towards the door, she saw her husband, wearing nothing but his breeches and boots.

‘D-didn’t mean to w-wake you,’ he stammered through chattering teeth. ‘Had to f-fetch more c-coal.’ He dumped the bucket he’d been carrying and tossed several shovelfuls of coal on to the fire.

‘You must be frozen,’ she said, noting the goosebumps all over his back.

‘That’s p-putting it m-mildly.’

‘Why on earth didn’t you put your coat on?’

‘What, and rob you of your b-blank-kets?’ He shook his head, a scowl darkening his features.

It might be cold in the house, but her heart felt as if it was melting. What a perfectly wonderful thing for him to do. She sniffed back a welling tear. He was such a chivalrous man.

‘B-besides,’ he added as he came back to the bed, ‘you’ll soon warm me up.’

With a growl, he burrowed under the mound of clothing, then wrapped his arms and legs round her as though she was his own personal hot-water bottle.

She couldn’t help shrieking as an ice-cold hand slid inside the bodice of her chemise.

‘Mmmhh.’ He half sighed, half groaned. ‘You feel wonderful.’

‘Ow! You don’t,’ she yelped as he ran a cold foot up her calf.

‘Is that any way to thank me for going all that way to fetch coal? Come on, Mary,’ he murmured, burying a cold nose into her neck. ‘Don’t you think I’ve earned a reward?’

He had. He definitely had. But just as she started to tell him so, his cold hands had her dissolving into giggles. He kept on searching for particularly sensitive places, tormenting her until she was begging for mercy.

He ignored her pleas, ruthlessly turning her giggles into moans of pleasure, her wriggling to escape into writhing to get closer. Pretty soon, neither of them felt the slightest bit cold. Together, they stoked up the fires of passion until it consumed them both in a blaze of wonderful completion.

* * *

It was daylight stuttering in through the broken window that brought Mary awake the next morning. With a contented sigh, she snuggled into her husband’s side and put an arm round his waist.

‘Thank God you’re awake at last,’ he said. ‘For the past half hour, at least, I’ve been so hungry I’ve even started to wonder what coal tastes like.’

‘You are awake?’ But he’d been so still. ‘You should have woken me.’

He traced one finger over her creased brow. ‘You looked so peaceful lying there. So...lovely, with the firelight flickering over your hair. I could quite happily have stayed here all day, admiring you....’

Why was he saying that, when they both knew she wasn’t the slightest bit pretty? He’d even made a point of saying it didn’t matter.

Need not be pretty.

She’d been lying there, feeling warm and contented, and grateful that marrying him had brought her into a cosy shelter from the storms of life, and with one careless remark he’d brought that horrid list to the forefront of her mind.

‘If only we had someone to bring us breakfast up here,’ he finished ruefully.

That was more like it. She preferred honest, even mundane, conversation, as long as he didn’t try to...to soft-soap her with the kind of meaningless, insincere flattery that was an insult to her intelligence.

‘Since we don’t,’ she said with a stiff smile, ‘we will just have to go down and make it ourselves.’

‘By which you mean you will conjure up something, while I am obliged to watch from the sidelines,’ he grumbled, sitting up and rummaging through their bedding until he came across a shirt. ‘You shouldn’t have to do it all,’ he said, pulling the shirt over his head, while she reached for the least crumpled item of clothing she could find. ‘I may not know my way round a kitchen, but surely I could spare you some of the heavy work? Heaving coal, or hauling water, or something?’

Once again, she was glad she’d kept her brief spurt of annoyance to herself. He might have his faults, but at least he was willing to pitch in and help, rather than leaving her to struggle alone.

And he’d certainly got the muscles for it, she reflected, watching his beautiful back flex and stretch as he thrust his arms into the sleeves.

‘If you are sure, then...thank you.’

The smile that blazed across his face had the strange effect of making her want to pull him straight back down on to the mattress.

Just because he’d smiled at her? How...weak and pathetic did that make her? Rather shaken by the strength of the feelings he could rouse, without, apparently, even trying, she pulled on her dress.

Only to feel her insides turn to mush when he took her hand as they ventured out of their room into a corridor that was so cold their breath misted in the air in great clouds. He kept it clasped firmly in his all the way to the kitchen. If she’d wanted to retrieve it, she would have had a struggle. And there didn’t seem much point in taking objection to such a harmless demonstration of affection.

Affection! No, it couldn’t be that. He’d specifically warned her not to go looking for affection.

‘What would you like me to do first?’ he asked when they reached the kitchen. ‘Fetch more coal? Or wood?’

She’d rather he stopped being so amazing, she thought crossly. So she wouldn’t be tempted to forget this was supposed to be a practical arrangement. Or start thinking that gestures such as carrying her over the threshold, or holding her hand, or saying she was adorable, were just the sort of things that went on in a love match.