In the Flesh (34 page)
When he was finally spent, Ritchie subsided against the cushions with a long, happy gasp. His eyes were closed and there was an expression of purest satisfaction on his dear and handsome face. As carefully as she could, Beatrice dabbed both him, and her sticky lips with a handkerchief she’d had tucked in her sleeve, then returned his loins to a state of propriety.
My love. My love. You are so beautiful.
She smiled at him as he lay there, getting his wind back. He was the most precious thing in the world to her now, an unexpected love who she’d never thought to meet. How lucky she was to have found—or been found by—this special man.
And now you sleep, you wretch.
With a silent, indulgent chuckle, she let him rest and, out of curiosity, turned her attention to the many papers spread out before him on the table just to one side. It probably wasn’t the done thing for a fiancée or wife to pry into her loved one’s business dealings, but she’d already decided that she would be a radical, modern partner and take an interest in all matters that concerned Ritchie, whether personal or commercial.
Increasingly fascinated, she sifted through the thick pile of documents. Reports on a variety of his holdings, profit and loss accounts, bank and investment statements. Most satisfactory, as far as she could see with a nonfinancier’s eye. She was going to be a very well set up wife indeed. Which was something she felt no guilt at the prospect of enjoying.
At the bottom of the heap, she found a paper that made her gasp aloud, and let out a cry of “Oh my goodness!”
Westerlynne! It was a bill of sale for Westerlynne, her old home, the happy home of her youth, purchased just two days ago by her future husband. An adjacent letter revealed that the new owners were as debt ridden as she and Charlie had been, and were relieved to accept such a generous offer from Ritchie.
She gave his shoulder a good shake, and his blue eyes snapped open.
“You rogue, when were you going to tell me that you’ve acquired Westerlynne? You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t be interested in this news?” She tried to sound stern, but this new, unlooked-for delight made that impossible.
He didn’t look shamefaced. He simply looked disgustingly pleased with himself.
“I was about to tell you when you walked in, my darling, I swear I was. But then I’m afraid I became distracted by your beautiful face and the feel of your luscious body beneath that undeniably handsome bodice.”
“Oh, do lay the blame at my feet.” She grinned at him, unable to do anything else but. Her heart had already been brimming, but this new joy made it impossible for her to wear any facial expression but a smile.
“At your feet. At your shapely calves. At your sleek, delicious thighs…” Blue eyes twinkled, and darkened with lust. “At your sumptuous, heavenly puss, your divine breasts, and your embracing arms.” Coming up, he reached for her. “At your perfect face, your fiery hair…your wicked, sweet lips…” He glanced at her mouth, and then down toward his own groin.
Beatrice melted. Every bit of her, lost in love and in lust at the sight of his handsome, ardent face and the devilish light in his eyes. She knew that look and she knew the pleasure that always ensued when she saw it.
“But I do think I should offer retribution for not informing you more promptly,” he continued, murmuring against her ear now, his hands already at work, unbuttoning her bodice, “some recompense…” Unhooking the top of her corset, then plying open her chemise, he bared her breasts, then switching his attention lower, he commenced hauling up her skirts.
Then he kissed, he touched, he toyed with, and he aroused. His fingers made magic everywhere they settled, probing and stroking. It might be a little hazardous yet for her to climb aboard him while his ankle was still susceptible, but that didn’t prevent him from wreaking heaven on her body.
Sucking her nipple and stroking her clitoris, he made her spend.
And then it was Beatrice’s turn to slump against cushions, breathing hard.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed, laughing and a little stunned.
“Indeed,” agreed Ritchie, stroking her hair.
A little while later, Beatrice asked, “And shall we live at Westerlynne, Edmund?” Straightening her clothing, she sat and faced him, calmer now. “It’s very beautiful…a lovely home, and spacious too.”
Ritchie smiled, his expression relaxed and open, hiding nothing anymore. “I thought we might live there part of the year, and the rest of the time, the Season, here in London. Either at this house, or some other. I’m at your disposal, my love.”
Beatrice reached for his hand and folded her fingers lightly around his. It was a slight embrace, but exquisitely sweet, perfect for the moment.
“That sounds extremely amenable. The best of both worlds.” She paused, thinking of others in the house. “And what of Charlie and Polly…and Jamie.”
After a moment’s thought, Ritchie answered, “Well, I’ll leave the decision to them, but if they wish it, I think they’ll do well residing at Westerlynne and overseeing the running of the house when we’re not there. Jamie is a countryman at heart, and I believe country society might be a more comfortable setting for your new sister-in-law.” He hesitated, and gave her a wink. “Not to mention that it will be far easier for them to conduct their unusual arrangements away from the eyes of London gossips.”
Beatrice nodded. He was so right. Despite the steadying influence of his new wife and his loving friend, Charlie was prone to temptations. But in the country at Westerlynne, he could throw himself into running the estate with the wise counsel of Jamie and Polly on hand to steer him.
“You think of everything, don’t you?” she teased lightly, knowing that he knew she meant it as a compliment.
“I try to…I do try to.” He smiled back at her, then lifted her hand to his lips, to kiss it passionately.
They were quiet for long moments, looking into each other’s eyes.
“How did we come to this?” said Beatrice softly as Ritchie drew her back into his arms, an embrace of love now, the power of passion temporarily sated. “It’s barely more than a month since I first set eyes on you, and I didn’t even like you on that occasion.”
Ritchie gave a low laugh. “That’s true, my love. I could tell. But I couldn’t help but pursue you once I’d met you in the flesh. I wanted to really get to know the woman who’d captivated me so powerfully from just a photograph.”
Beatrice nestled closer. “And do you feel you know me now?”
He seemed to consider her words. “Yes, my love…to some extent.” For a moment, he pressed his face into her hair, which had come unfastened and streamed loose over her shoulders. “But I think there’s still much I have to learn in the many years that lie ahead…and I look forward to discovering a million wonderful secrets.”
It was Beatrice’s turn to chuckle. “I sincerely hope you won’t be disappointed, Edmund. I’m really just a very ordinary woman.”
“Nonsense,” said Ritchie simply, kissing her neck. “You’re a goddess and a siren, my dear, and you’re well aware of that, aren’t you?”
“Well, if you say so, my love, then I am indeed a paragon.”
And so are you, Edmund Ellsworth Ritchie, so are you. For me, I do believe you’re the perfect man.
There was no need to say it. Indeed, no need to speak a syllable for the moment. As Ritchie laughed again, she just held him to her, warm and close.
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ISBN: 9781459225695
Copyright © 2012 by Portia Da Costa
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