Lady Harriet's Unusual Reward (12 page)

How had they fared last night?

Harriet smiled as she accepted his hand to be helped into the carriage and they were off quickly, pulling back out onto the Great North Road, ready to stop at every inn on the way, praying that nothing had untoward had happened to William and Mary.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked Harriet as she adjusted herself against the squabs half an hour after they had set off.

“No, thank you. I am not hungry.”

“My love, you must eat.”

Harriet turned and looked at him.

“Stephen, my brother is still missing, it is very early and we are in a moving carriage. I did not sleep particularly well. At present I do not want to eat anything. Please do not treat me as if I am made of porcelain or as if I am incapable of deciding whether I should eat or not.”

“I am not suggesting you are incapable.” He pulled off his top hat and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly. “I am just trying to care for you. I did a poor job of it last night. I should never have… well… found my pleasure the way I did.”

“I do not recall any complaints from me, my lord. Believe me, if I had been disgruntled, I would have been the first to protest your treatment of me.” He stared at her for a moment—still quite unable to believe how he had managed to become engaged to such a wonderful and clever woman. “You know I want more, Stephen. You know I want to become a real woman. You know my innocence is yours for the taking.”

“I do—and I shall take it—on our wedding night.”

“I do not know if I can wait that long after last night. What was rubbing against me through our clothes is nothing like the paintings in the art galleries. I must say that you have piqued my curiosity.”

He laughed out loud. Then he leaned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Long enough for her to know how very much he wanted her and how much he regretted that he could not lay her down on the seat of the carriage and have her here and now, but short enough that he did not lose his sanity. “Believe me when I say that your discomfiture over the wait shall be nothing compared to mine.”

“I beg to differ. You have at least experienced the delights of the marriage bed. However, now is not the time to discuss it. It appears we have arrived at the next inn.”

He peered out the window and realised that the coach was indeed slowing and turning into a courtyard. The inn was in reasonable condition and a good size. Had they carried on last night to this inn, they would possibly have found two rooms available and they would not have had a wonderful night of pleasure and frustration. He would not have known the sounds Harriet made as he sucked on her nipples or moved his middle finger through her cleft, circling the little nub that made her wriggle and groan. He shook his head and tugged at his waistcoat, hoping the signs that he was beginning to become aroused were not obvious.

“You look lost in thought,” said Harriet, breaking into his cerebral meanderings. “About what were you thinking?”

He turned to her and grinned. “You,” he said without preamble. “And last night.”

Colour flooded her cheeks and neck, her eyes widened and her pink lips made a perfect ‘o.’

“You said that just to discompose me, you vexing man,” she hissed as he stepped out of the carriage.

“I said it because it was the truth. However the thought of you last night had me rather discomposed. Why should I be the only one in this relationship who is discomposed?”

She narrowed her eyes as he helped her down from the carriage. Then she looked around the courtyard, her gaze settling on a coach which was being readied. The team of four were not the best horses in the world but they were good enough cattle.

“Do you think that might be William’s hired carriage? It does look rather like the sort of carriage that is hired. It has no livery or coat of arms.”

When she turned to him her eyes shone bright.

“Do not get your hopes up, my love. There are hired carriages all the way up and down the Great North Road. Most people do not own their own carriages. Most cannot afford it. You are in a very privileged position because you were the daughter, and now are the sister, of an earl.”

“I suppose you are correct. It would be too much to hope for that we would find them here.”

They crossed the courtyard and into the inn where they found a small desk and a large man standing behind it writing in some kind of ledger. He had huge hairy sideburns, grey hair and twinkling blue eyes.

“Good morning my lord, my lady.” He looked a little askance. It must not be common for people to turn up at breakfast time.

Before Stephen could open his mouth, Harriet spoke. Throughout their journey yesterday, Stephen had been the one to jump out of the carriage at all the inns and ask about the missing couple. He didn’t really know why he had helped Harriet down from the carriage when they had arrived here, except for the fact he had been distracted.

“We are sorry to bother you, but my brother and his lady are travelling up the Great North Road to Scotland, we believe. We are concerned about them. You see, my brother is… well he has difficulties with understanding, as does his young lady. We are not trying to stop them. I am happy for them to marry. But they do not know how very far away Scotland is and I fear they may be set upon by highwaymen or unscrupulous people who may take advantage. He is my only family and I would be devastated if something were to happen to him. He may use his title, Lord Oldbeck, or his family name Weatherby. Oh please…” Harriet’s voice broke and she reached for a handkerchief. “Perhaps they stopped in here yesterday or maybe even stayed the night. Any news would be of the utmost help.”

“They are here, my lady,” said the innkeeper hastily, raising his hands as if hoping to staunch the flow of tears. “Please do not distress yourself. They have my best suite of rooms. Two rooms with a dressing room adjoining. I am so very sorry. They said they were wed. I didn’t know.”

She waved away the apology and sniffled into her handkerchief.

“Would you mind showing us to their room?”

“Right away.”

The man led the way and Stephen followed behind. He had never seen Harriet so distressed before. As they reached the stairs he placed a hand on her back.

“We shall stay here a while and allow you to rest, my love. You are quite overset,” he whispered to her when he thought they might be out of earshot. She turned to him, holding the handkerchief in such a way that it would hide her face from the innkeeper and rolled her dry eyes at him, giving him an incredulous look. The minx was acting. Why had he not realised? Now he felt like the imbecile. She sniffed loudly for good measure as they reached the top of the stairs.

When they reached the door the innkeeper indicated, Stephen thanked him, assured him he would be compensated and dismissed him, and then took over.

“Oldbeck, open the door.”

“Charville, is that you?” came William’s voice from inside—a mixture of fear and relief.

“Aye. Now you’re not in trouble but you need to let Harriet and me in.”

“Harriet is here?”

“Yes. Now open the door.”

It took about a minute before the scrape of metal on wood indicated William had obeyed the instruction. William stood, head bowed, eyes downcast towards his stockinged feet, his hair unkempt. Inside the room Mary stood dressed in a manner of speaking though her dress gaped, suggesting her stays were not tightly tied. Her cheeks were tear-stained.

“Mary?” said Harriet, hurrying over to her charge and putting her arm around the young woman. “What is the matter?”

“I… I… couldn’t tie William’s cravat.”

Harriet looked over at Stephen and as their gazes met, he read relief in her eyes.

“Oh Mary, that’s why William has a valet. I doubt I could tie Stephen’s cravat either.”

Stephen looked at the offending garment hanging off William’s neck and set about fixing it.

“She didn’t wind it around your neck enough times, old boy,” he muttered. “Now hold still and behave or I’ll be tempted to throttle you with the damned thing for all the trouble you’ve caused.”

“I thought you would be pleased. You said you would be glad when we wed.”

“Yes, I did, but I did not mean for you to hare off to Scotland. Do you have any idea the distance between Scotland and London?”

“Not really but I think it’s quite far away. But people go to Scotland to get wed all the time.”

“Only in books, my man, only in books. It takes five to seven days, depending on the state of the roads. More sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So ask before you carry out another one of your schemes. You know I am here to help you, else why would Harriet put herself through marrying a grumpy old second son of a duke like me?”

William patted Stephen on the shoulder as he finished straightening the simple knot.

“Because she loves you. Anyone can see that. Even I can see that, Charville.” Then he let out an overly-loud guffaw. “You did not know?”

“I think you are wrong, Oldbeck.”

“You are the one who is wrong and I promise you, Charville, if you hurt Harry, I will kill you. You had better love her back.”

“You cannot force a man to love someone.”

“I bloody well can.” Oldbeck’s voice had started to rise and there was fire in his eyes. Stephen held up his hand and stayed the fellow’s ire.

“But in this instance there is no need. I believe I may already be falling in love with her.”

“You had better be.”

“All right, old fellow. No need to threaten me. Now I propose that we get these young ladies down the nearest altar, get them married to us before they change their minds and travel back to London as quickly as horses can transport us.”

“Marry Mary today? But we are not in Scotland.”

“No, but you have your licence, do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then we can marry. I have mine too.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. And for the record, you did not need the licence for Scotland. They have different laws up there.”

“Yes, my driver told me.”

“Shame he did not tell you how far away Scotland is. Now, shall we go and see about our transportation back to London and find out where is the nearest church?”

“Good idea,” said Oldbeck, clapping Stephen on the shoulder before shrugging on his tight-fitting coat and following him out the room and down the narrow staircase.

“That is the coach driver. I paid him all the money to Scotland,” said Oldbeck when they came out into the sunlit courtyard.

“How much money?”

“I cannot remember. He told me and it seemed a lot but I do not know how much a trip to Scotland costs.”

Stephen strode over to the man. He was well-dressed for a man who drove a carriage for a living. Did he usually take advantage of the less fortunate? He approached quietly. The man was checking over one of the horses at the front of his team.

“If I find out that you have overcharged the gentleman you are driving to Scotland,” Stephen muttered in a menacing tone in the man’s ear, “then so help me God but I shall tear you limb from limb before I have you in front of a magistrate for theft.”

The driver turned slowly, pushing himself against the horse. He was about half a head shorter than Stephen but he did not flinch. He look Stephen in the eye, scowling.

“Mr Weatherby has been charged a fair price for the journey. I took the money up front because he seemed unsure as to how far away Scotland was and I did not believe he had enough money to pay me. I didn’t want to arrive in Scotland to find myself without any wages for a job well done. Here’s the money he gave me.” The man pulled a small leather pouch out of his pocket and handed it to Stephen. Stephen opened it and looked at the coins. It seemed a fair amount of money to him for a journey that might last a week.

“And how do I know this is all he gave you?”

“Ask him.” The driver nodded to Oldbeck who was standing behind him, his eyes like saucers.

Oldbeck shuffled over and looked in the pouch.

“Yes, that is right.”

“Earlier you said you could not remember.”

“I couldn’t remember the number but I can remember the coins. There were five of those, and eight of those and three of those.”

“I see.”

“Charville, he gave me good advice last night too. Told me to say I was married to Mary so that I could keep her safe. And to organise a private parlour in which to eat.”

“It seems you shall be driving us back to London Mr…”

“Graves.”

“Mr Graves. If you do not mind. Please accept my apologies. I am a little overprotective of my brother-in-law-to-be. Please keep the money as your wages for the inconvenience. And now we must find a church to marry both of our beautiful brides.”

Chapter Fourteen

Harriet moved to the seat beside the hearth and picked up the glass of wine which she had poured. She had asked for the bottle and goblets to be brought to her room rather than tea. She felt she needed something to help steady her after the events of the day.

First they had come across William and Mary in an inn before Stephen had whisked them all off for an intimate double wedding ceremony at a small village church. William had looked delighted and Mary had beamed. Her skin was beginning to glow and Harriet could not help thinking that they were going to have to start letting out her dresses at the bodice. Her breasts were practically overflowing, something that the poor vicar seemed to have noticed and had made a conscious effort not to allow his gaze to wander towards.

The journey had seemed interminable after that. Stephen had seemed gruff, giving monosyllabic answers and staring morosely out of the carriage windows. When at last she had lost her temper with him in a most unladylike fashion, he had admitted it was because he desired her and was finding the enclosed carriage rather unbearable. She had suggested he ride the rest of the way on horseback but he had refused, saying it was unconscionable to leave her alone on her wedding day and he could survive it. He had given her a wan smile then leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss on her lips, before retreating back into his corner to scowl ferociously.

Now William and Mary were in the Oldbeck townhouse, consummating their marriage, Harriet supposed, and she was waiting for her new husband to come to her. She was wearing the transparent nightrail that Lizzie had helped her purchase and a silk dressing gown over the top.

She started when there was a light tap at the door connecting her room to the dressing room between their bedchambers.

The door opened and Stephen stood there biting into his lower lip—the first time she had ever seen any real sign of hesitation from him. His hair was damp from his bath, curling at the collar of his dark blue silk dressing gown. He held a glass of whisky in his hand.

He lifted his glass to her and she lifted hers in a silent toast. His lips broke into a sunny smile and he stepped further into the room, closing the door with a click.

She stood as he approached.

“Good evening… husband.”

“Ah… that sounds almost erotic when you say it like that.” He lifted his hand and touched his thumb to the centre of her lips, trailing it gently to the side. She darted out her tongue and licked it.

Stephen arched an eyebrow and she moved her head slightly, enough to capture his thumb and suck it into her mouth.

His eyes seemed to darken instantly, his knuckles of the other hand whitening as he grasped the glass more tightly.

“Bloody hell, Harriet, there is nothing innocent about you, my love.”

She pulled back, blindly reaching for the table to lay her glass down.

“I… of course I am. Steph…”

“Oh God no!” He had enveloped her in his embrace before she had a chance to step back, his whisky sloshing down the back of her dressing gown. “I did not mean to suggest that you are not a virgin. Christ, no. I meant… how do I put it? You see some women have an innate sensuality about them. When you took my thumb into your mouth, you were acting on instinct. It shows you have that innate sensuality. That was what I meant. I was not casting aspersions or suggesting you are not innocent in the sense of still being a virgin. Please, Harriet, it was clumsy of me to say it. It was really meant to be a compliment. I am just so out of practice that I continually say the wrong things. As I already told you, it has been a long time since I made love to a woman.”

She breathed in and pushed her arms around him, laying her head on his chest.

“Oh Stephen, was last night not making love?”

“It was… in a manner of speaking.”

“Well then, it has only been one day since you made love to a woman. And she enjoyed it very much. Now would you put down that whisky before it drips down my back in its entirety?”

“Oh yes.”

He placed the whisky next to her wine then led her over to the bed. Then Stephen untied her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. He made a low whistling noise.

“Lizzie helped you make an exquisite choice, my lady.”

“I am glad you approve.”

He chuckled.

“You could wear a coal sack and I would approve. You would look beautiful in anything. But let me remove this. I am not sure I trust myself not to rip it tonight.” She lifted her arms and tugged it at her waist, revealing her calves, her knees, her thighs. She bit her lip as the hem skimmed her hips. Oh he could see right through it. He could see the triangle of hair covering her feminine parts and her nipples and the shape of her breasts. But the removal of this last barrier made it final.

Stephen adjusted his grip and Harriet lifted her arms. He pulled the garment over her torso and head, her loose braid slapping against her back again as he threw the fabric onto the floor.

“Now you,” she said breathlessly, fighting the urge to cover herself with her arms. He stood, his gaze fixed on her breasts, as if mesmerised by a fae from the stories she used to read as a child.

Harriet undid the knot of his dressing gown, letting the ties fall, then she placed the palms of her hand on his chest, pressing them up towards his shoulders, watching the slippery fabric slide off his muscles, revealing curly dark hair across his chest, not too thick but enough to look masculine and virile and to send Harriet’s pulse racing. She had been vaguely aware of it last night when the neck of his shirt was open but now she ran the tips of three fingers through it. It was softer than it looked.

Something touched her belly, like the wet nose of a dog. She looked down at his male member, hard and straight, it jerked slightly. She was almost sure the thing was looking at her out of the slit on the end. And it seemed terribly big. She gulped down a gasp of surprise. Surely that would not fit inside her.

“Harriet?”

“Will it hurt terribly much?” she asked—embarrassed that her confidence had deserted her at this crucial moment.

“I…I do not know, if I am truly honest with you, my love. But Sarah seemed no worse the wear after our wedding night and I know of no other women who seems to have been traumatised by losing their virginity. Lizzie seems fine. I really think the best thing to do is to get it over with. I shall do my best to be gentle. I promise you that.”

She nodded, her gaze having never left his hard length.

“Thank you,” she replied, annoyed at the tremble in her voice. Stephen let out a frustrated little snort and pulled down the bedcovers.

“Harriet, love, it is not a lot different to last night.”

“I know. But my maidenhead. It is just… Oh, is there no other way to breach it and just get it over with?”

He chuckled, indicating she should climb into bed. She did.

“You make it sound as if making love to your husband is a chore.”

“I am sorry.”

He climbed in beside her. “I hate peas, you know.”

“What?” Why the hell was he talking about peas at a time like this?

“Cannot stand the things. I do believe they may be the worst vegetable in the world.”

“Not cabbage?”

“No, I do not mind cabbage. Why? Do you dislike cabbage?”

“No.” Why was she lying in the nude with a naked man half on top of her discussing the vegetables they preferred, even if the naked man was her husband? She glanced down again at his member. It still looked slightly threatening to her. She wanted to touch it though. Was it as hard as it looked?

“The point about the peas is that, as a boy, I used to eat all my peas first, then I could savour the rest of my food, having got the nasty bit out of the way.”

Was Stephen Charville going with this conversation where she thought he was going?

“My Lord, in this little parable, is my maidenhead…”

“The peas. Yes.” He sounded triumphant as he gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Part of her felt she should be insulted but when he used his tongue to part her lips, she melted into him, trying to memorise the sensations of his body against hers. The hard planes of his muscles against her feminine curves. His hard length digging into her thigh. His fingers digging into her thigh as he bent her knee and pressed it onto the mattress, opening her up to him. He skimmed his fingers up the inside of her thigh as he kissed down her neck. Her head was pressed back against the pillow.

His featherlike kisses were driving her wild. Then his fingers touched her on her delicate inner folds. The lightest touch. A tickling sensation that made her moan. He moved his finger so slowly that she felt she might die of longing. The he dipped one finger to her entrance without breaching.

“You are wet already, my love. Were you anticipating my arrival?”

More kisses down her chest.

“Of course,” she managed. Why was he so slow? Last night he had all but ravished her breasts by now.

“And what did you anticipate me doing to you?”

She swallowed. What could he mean?

“I… making me your wife.”

He brought his mouth closer to her nipple. She squirmed, hoping he would understand what she wanted.

“But where did you imagine me kissing you, suckling you, nipping you, caressing you, touching you?

Ah, she understood.

“My breasts… on my nipples. Oh please, Stephen. I need you.” She arched her back. But before he took her nipple in his mouth he lifted his hand sucked his finger, wetting it thoroughly. Then he closed his lips over the distended peak and she forgot everything.

Until he pressed the finger inside her. It was not unpleasant and within a few moments it became pleasurable. She began to move against the finger. He lifted his head from her breast, removed his finger and sucked a second digit. This time she was prepared for the intrusion. She suspected she tensed slightly and he cooed against her flesh, kissing around her areola and using his thumb to make circles around another part of her feminine flesh. But those circles were anything but soothing. She was beginning to rock against his movements.

“You are ready.” He lifted himself into the cradle of her thighs and looked deep into her eyes. His smile was encouraging. “Your body is made to do this, my love. Countless women have done it before you and will do it after you. There is nothing to fear.”

She nodded. She knew she was being silly.

He moved his hard flesh through her folds as he bent his head and kissed her thoroughly. This was like last night, but without the clothing between them. The moisture from her own flesh allowed him to glide easily, to ramp up her need for him. She speared her fingers through his hair and angled his head, taking control of the kiss for the first time.

Stephen moved his hand and began to fumble between them. This was it. Harriet shut her eyes, concentrated on the kiss, but Stephen had to break away to position himself at her entrance. She willed herself not to tense, not to cry out if it was painful. She wanted to make this pleasurable for him too.

He pressed into her and she stretched to accommodate him. There was no pain—not yet. He was watching her.

“Put your legs behind my back,” he said. She did as he asked, then he placed his mouth on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He pushed into her in one determined movement. A sharp pain in that region as if she had been stabbed was gone before she had time to truly acknowledge it.

He withdrew and pushed in again. It was slightly uncomfortable this time but not painful.

He withdrew again and this time he rolled off her and onto his back.

“Come sit astride me.” She looked at him in consternation. Astride him? Like a man sits a horse? “One leg on one side of my hips, the other on this side.” He tapped alternate sides of the sheet. She followed his instructions, placing her hands on his shoulders to get her balance, not placing her weight on him and eyeing his manhood that jerked against his stomach, now glistening with her slick juices and streaked slightly with blood. He took himself in hand and moved the head until it was at her opening. “Sit down on it—slowly—that’s it.”

It was exquisite. She watched his gaze. His eyes darkened. One hand moved to her hip to help guide her, the other held himself in place. And then he removed that hand, placing it on her other hip, pushing her down onto him. The flesh between her thighs met his warm skin. She was fully seated atop him. She gave him a small smile of triumph.

She glanced down to where they joined, her red hair mingled with his dark hair, his thumb lightly brushing against her thigh.

“Was it terribly sore?”

“It was sore for just a moment and then it was gone.”

“Well, my love, you are fully breached. I can go no deeper. The peas, as it were, have been consumed. Now for the rest of the main course. And if you are very good, perhaps, dessert.”

“That sounds wonderful. Stephen, is this normal?”

“Normal?”

“For the woman to be in this position?”

He cocked his head to the side and ran his hand up to her breast, gently tweaking her nipple.

“It is not abnormal. Perhaps unusual for a lady’s first time.” He pulled himself into a sitting position. She could feel him shift inside her and she squirmed. He lifted her breast to his lips, licking round the hard nub three times before sucking it into his mouth.