Fascination -and- Charmed (93 page)

“You are the sweetest creature,” Pippa said.

Grace flushed a little with pleasure. “I feel a charge is upon me that I assist you and Calum through this difficult situation.”

“I expect your own wedding was purely a fairy tale. I am certain the marquess showed his adoration for you then as he does with every look now.”

Grace’s heart squeezed with joy. Then she remembered and said, “Arran used to be a blockhead. An arrogant, self-important noddycock in need of learning a good lesson.”

Pippa’s mouth dropped open a little. “Really?”

“Yes, and…” Grace had to be absolutely truthful. “And I was more than a little silly myself, but that is all another story. I will tell you, very briefly, that our wedding began as a dream and very nearly ended in disaster. Yet you see how we have overcome.”

“You adore each other. That is evident.”

“And it is true. Just as you and Calum adore each other.”

Pippa’s lower lip trembled and Grace feared the tears would flow again. “You see how his adoration has brought him to me this night?” Pippa said. “Obviously he is already taking his rest and has entirely forgotten me.”

Grace took an invigorating sip of her own chocolate and regarded Pippa. “I am going to be your mother tonight. That is, I am going to do what your mother would have done had she been here.”

Still dressed in her exquisite gown, Pippa resembled a beautiful, forlorn child and showed no confidence in the assistance Grace offered.

“Yes, well,” Grace said, setting aside her cup and getting up to examine the night rail and robe that had been spread upon the bed in preparation for the wedding night. “This is a magical thing. A gown meant for dancing in the moonlight. Calum has always had a great eye for beauty and he will love the very sight of you in this.”

A glance at Pippa’s pink and averted face warned Grace to be more cautious. “Let us speak plainly of the problems at hand.”

“You must be tired,” Pippa said. “I’ve detained you far too long already.”

“
Posh.
No, I don’t care for that word, either. I take it the dowager has been responsible for your instructions in wifely behavior?”

“Oh, bother,” Pippa said softly.

“Exactly,” Grace said. “I imagine she did make it all sound quite a bother. You are not to believe a word of it.”

“I don’t.”

Startled, Grace returned to take another sip of chocolate. “You don’t believe the dowager’s instructions?”

“That wifely duties are frightful and to be borne without complaint despite inevitable suffering? No. Of course not.”

“I see.” Grace puffed up her cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Well, that is certainly a very splendid beginning. Because they certainly are not. As to the matter of Calum’s behavior…Becoming a bridegroom has provoked an attack of nervous sickness. That is it, pure and simple. I shall always believe some of Arran’s strange behavior was the result of nervous sickness.”

Pippa’s brow furrowed. “Nervous? Calum?”

“Why, certainly! He has a great responsibility. It is his task to ensure that all goes smoothly between the two of you. After all, he is the man. He is the one who thinks he must lead in all things.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “Men can be such perfect cabbage heads.”

“Can’t they just?” Pippa said, shaking her head. “Calum is the most cabbage-headed of all.”

“Will you allow me to guide you?”

“I really don’t think—”

“Good. That is just as it should be. You will not think, and I will think for you. Let us get you into your beautiful, gossamer night rail.”

“Why?”

“Because you are going to go to him.”

“I cannot!”

“You most definitely can. Up with you. Begin as you mean to continue. All that is necessary in the management of these things is to allow men to
think
they lead us. Allow them to stride about assuming they are the heads of their households.
We
are the true leaders, my dear friend. And with my help, you will begin exactly as you will be happy to continue with this new husband of yours.”

Pippa rose silently and suffered through Grace’s ministrations until she was dressed in a gown and robe that together were still as transparent as cobwebs. Grace turned discreetly aside so as not to embarrass the young bride.

“Now we are ready to proceed. I imagine Calum will have partaken of a measure or two of strong drink. One hopes not too much, because I understand that can have most undesirable effects.”

“What undesirable effects?” Pippa asked anxiously.

“That discussion is entirely too advanced as yet. Let us pass on. Calum will be in his bed—or so I imagine—and he may most likely have fallen asleep. You will learn that men have another facility most women do not seem to possess. Whilst we remain awake and desolate over our troubles, they manage to set their troubles aside and fall into a deep slumber almost at once.”

“So what purpose would be served by my going to him?” Grace braced herself to be strong. “You will…hmm. You will
arouse
him.”

Pippa’s lips pursed.

“There are certain ways by which a male may—without exception, almost—be caused to want his wife.
Want
is what a husband feels toward his wife in such moments when his body, and sometimes his mind, wish to be…hmm. When he wishes to
join
with you.”

Pippa’s face cleared and she nodded. “Ah, yes. Of course.”

Grace frowned. “There are
touches
which are guaranteed to produce a response in these—”

“Yes. Yes, quite.” Pippa looked toward the door that led to the dressing room and Calum’s room beyond. “And you think I should…you think I
should?
”

“I think you
absolutely
should. And I think I can promise that Calum will be a most considerate husband. Of course, men have…
appetites.
The odd thing is that they think their appetites are not necessarily matched by their wives. Fortunately, Arran and I have passed that…
Oh, dear.”

“I expect they think this matter of appetites is closely related to the matter of the giving of their seed,” Pippa remarked.

Grace stared.

“You have been most helpful,” Pippa said. She picked up her chocolate cup, drained it and faced the dressing room. “I shall follow your instructions.”

“But I did not finish—”

“I assure you I am well informed—via my studies.” Ethereal in her lovely gown, Pippa approached the dressing room. “Thank you for giving me the courage to do what must be done. I shall go to him now. And I am prepared to receive Calum’s seed as often and for as long as is required to bring forth fruit.”

When the dressing room door closed behind Pippa, Grace found she must sit a moment before going in search of Arran. And when she did return to him, she would definitely need more chocolate.

Calum’s bed sheets had become twisted ropes that bound his blazing body. A small breeze through the open casement did no more than grow warm on his hot skin.

Sleep began to claim him, a fitful, drowning sleep. Darkness slipped upward past his seething brain and he grew still at last.

Faint sounds came to him, the settlings of a strange room in an ancient castle.

A soft hand rested on his ankle.

Now there were to be tormenting spirits in his unkind dreams.

The hand smoothed upward to his knee, then slipped behind and passed over his calf to return to his ankle once more.

Somewhere deep within him, Calum shuddered. He rolled his face toward the windows and willed his nerves to release him from this torment. Sweet torment.

From ankle to knee went the fingers once more. And a second hand began a similar ministration to his other leg.

The outsides of his thighs stiffened under this feathery touch.

And the insides of his thighs.

He was not asleep.

Carefully, he turned back just far enough to look down upon a figure in white that stood beside his bed.

She had come to him.

Slowly, she straightened, and he saw how the moonlight turned her tall, slight body to a tender, shapely silhouette inside some garment of wispy white.

She did not know he watched her.

She did not know, because
she
watched
him…
part of him. His shaft, already erect, leaped beneath her intent scrutiny. When she touched it, lightly, with a single fingertip, he clamped his jaw closed and felt sweat bead on his brow.

Then he heard her sigh—a sigh that was not at all unhappy. Her fingertip passed along the length of him, from stretched tip, over distended veins, to the dense hair at the base.

And then she retraced her path.

Calum held his breath and prayed for guidance.

Another small sigh reached him. Pippa surrounded and stroked him downward until she met hair again, and this time she extended her explorations further, weighing and testing every male contour as if memorizing him for some future purpose.

He shut his eyes, tried and failed to contain a grimace that was pure, ecstatic excitement, and forced himself not to reach for her.

The next sensation he felt brought his eyes wide open. Pippa’s silken hair spread across his belly, slithered over his thighs, and she drew his shaft between her lips and deep into her mouth.

Calum groaned aloud.

Such things did not happen—except in the maddened minds of men about to die of frustration on their wedding nights. Wedding nights when they were denied the presence of their brides.

He was dreaming.

Her cool hands grasped his hips. She withdrew her mouth—and within only a moment buried him once more in the moist magic beyond her marvelous lips.

Not a dream.

“Pippa,” he groaned. “In God’s name, woman, what are you trying to do to me?”

He pushed himself to his elbows and she lifted her head. Her face was all shadows, but her eyes caught the moonlight. “You are the head of this household,” she said breathlessly. “And it is my duty to ensure that your needs are met.”

“But how,” he scarcely dared ask, “how do you know these things? The things you do?” Surely there was only one way.

“You find this unpleasant?” Her anxiousness might have made him laugh—at some other time.

“I find it most
pleasant.
”

“Oh, good. I could only guess you might.”

He could no longer stop himself from touching her hair, from stroking her face, her neck—from dropping his hand to cup her breast. She gasped and he smiled a little. “You are such a puzzle, my lady. Why would you be guessing at such a thing?”

“I was blessed with so much time alone at Dowanhill,” she said. “That is how I was fortunate enough to find the books. I didn’t realize then just how fortunate, but I do now.”

“Books?”

“In my father’s library. Not intended for me, of course, but perhaps fate did plan that I should see them, since I had no other source of instruction in such things.”

“No.” If she continued to fondle him, he would surely disgrace himself.

“Unfortunately, the book with the most useful drawings was written in a language with which I am not familiar. But the drawings were very well done. I am doing this correctly, am I not?”

“So very correctly.” He could well imagine the kind of texts her young eyes had happened upon.

“Good. You are most beautifully made. But that is what I had surmised from my studies of you.” Promptly, she began to take him into her mouth once more.

“Studies of
me?
” His voice broke.

Pippa couldn’t answer him.

“Stop!” With one fluid motion, he sat up, caught her beneath the arms and lifted her to the bed. Depositing her against the pillows beside him, he stared down into her face. “What made you come to me tonight?”

“Someone had to help you through your attack of nervous sickness.”

He shook his head in quiet disbelief. “My nervous sickness?”

“Bridegrooms invariably suffer the condition. Probably because they are so anxious about their brides having the fortitude to accept their seed often enough to bear fruit in a timely fashion. I assure you I am stronger than I appear. I shall accept and accept. I shall swallow all night if necessary. And then I expect we should wait and pray.”

Calum dropped flat onto his back and covered his face. His rod ached, and his gut. His thighs strained. His brain struggled with the wonder of the woman who waited beside him.

At last he trusted himself to turn back to her, to draw her into his arms and kiss her with a tenderness that cost him dearly in restraint before her pure sweetness tempered his lust.

He caressed her hair, stroked her long, straight spine past the curve of her waist to the firm roundness of her hips. “Pippa,” he murmured, “forgive me for being the fool.”

She framed his face with hands that trembled. “We are blessed that we have been given to each other. And I am grateful my early instruction will help us so.”

Calum smiled against her neck. “You are indeed well informed on some things, dearest. On others I fear you are hopelessly ignorant. However, because I love you to distraction, I shall spend the rest of this night, and tomorrow and possibly the next night and the next day—and who knows how many more—attending to your education.”

I love you, I love you, I love
you.
“I love you,” she told him.

“I know. And I thank you.”

He stripped away her robe and her gown, and she felt no shame. He touched her in all the ways he had touched her before, and in so many more—and she felt awe.

And then there was
That.
It was absolutely as magical as she’d expected. Calum could even use it to make her feel the white-hot throbbing, the slipping away, that he’d created with his fingers and with his mouth.

So much to learn.

“Now,” he whispered, his lips on her neck, “we shall see to the planting of the seed, my dearest love.”

When she made to find his shaft with her mouth, he eased her down upon the bed once more and rose over her. “No, sweetest. Not that way.
This
way.”