Lillian's Light Horseman (9 page)

Panting, she relaxed beneath him, her body made limp and pliable through her exertions. William buried his head in the crook of her neck and kissed the skin beneath her ear, stilling a moment before he heaved himself off her and swung a leg over her hips. He tugged her closer, one arm resting over her chest, the other cushioning her head.

Abruptly, Lillian felt shy and vulnerable. After such intimacy, she wasn’t sure what to expect, and wondered in the back of her mind where they would go from this point. She stiffened in William’s arms, unfamiliar and awkward with a lover’s intimate embrace.

William removed his arm from under her and rested his head on one hand, his arm bent at the elbow as he looked down at her suspiciously. “You were a virgin, Lillian,” he stated bluntly. “Why did you lie to me?”

She tried to struggle upright but he kept her immobilized.

“Don’t,” he ordered curtly. “I want you to answer me.”

She huffed out a breath and stilled beneath him, trying to avoid his burning gaze, then sighed. “It’s a long story, William. Perhaps it will be better told under different circumstances.”

He eyed her a while longer then acquiesced and loosened his hold. “You’re right. I need to get you back to the homestead.” He rose quickly and started to dress.

Lillian sat up and tried unsuccessfully to pull the tattered remnants of her clothing around her. She blushed furiously when William stood over her and blatantly assessed her nakedness.

He chuckled at her embarrassment. “I didn’t think this through particularly well.”

“This is not funny, William,” she said hotly. “How am I to return to the house looking like this?”

“Come.” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. Collecting his oilskin, he held it open for her. “Hands in the holes,” he ordered then buttoned the too-large jacket all the way down the front. Stooping, he retrieved the blanket, shook it out and wrapped it around her. He gathered her tattered clothes and undergarments then shoved them into his saddlebag before extinguishing the fire with a dousing of sand.

He held her shoes out. When she took a step toward him, he knelt and grasped one of her ankles then slipped a shoe on one foot. He obviously wasn’t going to bother with her stockings, which had been balled up and stuffed away with her other clothing. She steadied herself by grasping his shoulders.

“I can put my own shoes on, William,” she muttered in irritation.

He just ignored her, dropping her foot and grasping the other one to fit that shoe into place too.

He stood swiftly, circled an arm around her waist and tugged her to him, dipping his head to her ear. “You
are
going to tell me what’s going on and I don’t want you to lie to me.”

Her nipples hardened at the sensation of his warm breath on the delicate skin of her neck.

“I’ve just taken you. I was your first. That means that you belong to me now, Lillian.”

She shivered at the possessive edge to his voice then wondered what on earth he was talking about. He didn’t give her the opportunity to respond to his high-handed attitude before he drew away from her, grasped her hand and tugged her toward his horse.

He grasped her around the waist and swung her up onto Victory, arranging her sidesaddle style on the horse’s back. He lithely mounted the animal and settled behind her before kicking Victory into a gallop across the hard terrain and heading back to the homestead.

Chapter Ten

William clutched Lillian to him and rode them hard toward Mulga Creek. Her face was pressed to his chest and her slight arms were wrapped about his waist while he had one arm banded around her protectively. His mind was running through the consequences of what they’d just done. He’d known, deep down, that his first instincts had been correct and that Lillian had been a virgin, and given that he’d unceremoniously just taken that from her, he now felt a greater responsibility to her.

He’d known, yet he’d still pretended to himself that the act was not new to her. Fuck, his crassness knew no bounds. He’d just de-flowered his governess because he couldn’t help himself—couldn’t stop himself from possessing her as he’d wanted to possess her ten years earlier. Not the least of his worries was the possibility that she could become pregnant from their encounter. He could kick himself for his recklessness. He was the experienced one. He should have ensured that he was more careful. He could only pray that his seed wouldn’t take root.

He was relieved when the homestead came into view. Lillian would need a warm bath, then they could talk.

His immediate concern, however, was how to get Lillian past Mrs. Thompson, who, he could see by the dim light cast by the verandah lantern, was waiting for them on the front steps clad in a nightgown and a sleep cap. He couldn’t allow her to see that Lillian was naked underneath his oilskin coat and he didn’t have to stretch his imagination to guess what else she was covered in. No, he had to get Lillian past his intrepid housekeeper before she suspected anything untoward. While Mrs. Thompson was one of his staff, he’d also grown up with her and consequently he knew that in formidable mode, she was a power to be reckoned with. He felt Lillian stiffen in his arms and guessed that she was having similar thoughts.

“Let me do the talking,” he whispered in her ear as he reigned in Victory just short of the front steps.

“Oh, Mr. Cartwright, thank God you found her. Is she well?” Mrs. Thompson asked, not waiting for him to swing himself down from his mount. The soft light of the verandah lantern illuminated the lines of worry etched into her forehead. He smiled reassuringly at his housekeeper and, supporting Lillian’s slight weight easily, he vaulted from his horse.

With Lillian in his arms, he strode up the front stairs and into the hallway, Mrs. Thompson hot on his heels.

“I have a bath ready for Miss Hamilton in the kitchen,” she informed him, following down the hallway.

“Miss Hamilton’s dress is torn and quite filthy from her ordeal. She will need to change into something else,” he said over his shoulder, climbing the stairs to the second level.

“I can assist her, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Thompson. Please wait for us in the kitchen.”

“William!” The sound of the name she had used for him in childhood froze him to the spot. “It is not proper for you to take Miss Hamilton into her room.”

He turned on the stairs so that he could face her. “Miss Hamilton is tired and weak from exposure, Millie. As you cannot possibly carry her up the stairs, I will do so. I would hate for her to fall. I assure you that her modesty will remain intact. We’ll be back in a moment, then you can see to her.”

He turned away from her and recommenced his journey to Lillian’s room, breathing a sigh of relief when his housekeeper didn’t follow them. He looked down at Lillian and didn’t miss the furious blush that flushed her cheeks.

“Don’t distress yourself,” he admonished gently. “She would much prefer some impropriety than for you to risk falling.”

He deposited Lillian in her room, ensured that she was well enough to dress herself then closed the door.

William paced in the hallway waiting for her. He was anxious for them to talk but knew that he had to deal with Mrs. Thompson and allow Lillian time to bathe before they would have the luxury of conversation. He looked at his pocket watch. It was only ten o’clock but it felt much later. So much had happened in the span of time since he’d left the homestead in search of Lillian.

He was tucking his pocket watch away when her door opened and she stepped into the hallway, dressed in a long, thick dressing gown, the buttons fastened to her chin. He made a move to pick her up but she stepped aside. “I can walk on my own, William,” she said quickly.

“I’m sure you can, but I insist. Please, allow me for my peace of mind.” He ignored any further protestations and, sweeping her into his arms, he started downstairs in the direction of the kitchen.

Mrs. Thompson was waiting for them. A bathtub had been established in the center of the room in front of the slow-combustion stove, which was emitting a soft, warm heat.

“My poor child,” she murmured as William deposited Lillian gently on her feet by the bathtub.

“I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in my study,” he muttered, departing the room and leaving the door ajar.

From the hallway, he listened to his housekeeper speaking soothingly to Lillian and hoped fervently that the woman didn’t suspect anything. A moment later, he heard Mrs. Thompson leave the kitchen and close the door behind her.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, as she was retreating down the hall.

“Everything’s fine. Miss Hamilton just asked for some privacy. She assured me that she is quite well, so I’m going to retire for the evening. I’ve told her if she needs anything, not to hesitate to wake me.”

William waited for the telltale click of her bedroom door latch before he stalked back in the direction of the kitchen. He knocked once lightly then strode through the door to find Lillian naked and on the verge of stepping into the tub.

She gasped in surprise at his arrival and tried to cover her nakedness. “William! What are you doing?”

“Don’t be shy, Lilly.” Fuck, she was so beautiful. The soft light of the kerosene lamp highlighted her gentle curves, so lush and ripe that he had to physically restrain himself from reaching out and clutching her to him violently. He stepped toward her, took a deep breath to calm himself and allowed his gaze to wander over her body. He blanched when his eyes rested on her blood-streaked thighs and he realized then why she’d asked Mrs. Thompson to give her privacy. God, he hoped he hadn’t hurt her.

She stood frozen to the spot as if his gaze held her spellbound, until he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her into the bath. She sank below the water, wincing slightly, then closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the tub. He kneeled behind her and reached for the soap and a washcloth.

“You shouldn’t be in here, William. What if Mrs. Thompson comes to check on me?”

“She’s in bed and she’s a heavy sleeper. She won’t be disturbing us. Trust me. Just relax and allow me to take care of you,” he replied softly.

He dunked the washcloth in the water and soaped it up before wiping it along the back of her shoulders and around her neck. She sighed and leaned her head to one side, allowing him to access her throat. He moved downward, across her clavicle then over each of her breasts. The sight of the pale, full globes bobbing in the water had his cock hardening instantly. He watched, mesmerized, as each of her nipples puckered and strained at the friction of the cloth. Seeing her breasts and delicate nipples tightened his insides and sent hot lust burning through him. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself against the sensations, wanting only to cherish her and look after her. He moved the washcloth lower over her belly then gently swiped it between her thighs. She gasped and tried to squeeze her legs together but he resisted her efforts.

“Shh, darling. Let me wash you.” He continued leisurely to cleanse between her thighs, willing her to relax. “Are you very sore? Did I hurt you?” he asked, praying that he hadn’t.

“I’m a little tender,” she admitted softly. “But it’s just a small ache. It’s not very bad.”

He kissed behind her ear and nibbled on her earlobe. “I shouldn’t have taken you like that, Lilly,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck. “I’m sorry. I should have waited and made it special. Hell, I shouldn’t have done it at all.” His last words ended on a strangled note.

She stiffened under him and made a move to get out of the tub but he stopped her with slight pressure to her shoulders. “No, stay and finish bathing. Meet me in my study when you’re ready.” He planted a soft kiss to her crown then stood and left her to finish her ablutions in private.

* * * *

Lillian drew out her bath but she knew that William wouldn’t rest until they had spoken. He would demand to know why, if she’d been married, she’d remained a virgin. She was in a lie of her own making and she knew that it would be easier just to admit the truth. She supposed that she could fabricate an older husband who’d been physically incapable of consummating their marriage, but why would she do that? There was no real reason to continue her deception. She’d only done so because that was what William had believed. To have him believe that she’d been married had meant that she could pretend she’d not been pining for him for the previous ten years.

She sighed in remembered pleasure as she thought about their lovemaking. It had been everything that she’d dreamed it would be—even more so. She’d had no idea that the human body was capable of such wondrous feelings, and the fact that William had so easily and skillfully elicited those feelings from her made her tummy flutter delightfully.

She recalled his words to her before they’d returned to the homestead.
“You belong to me now.”
A warm feeling engulfed her. To belong to such a man sent euphoria singing through her veins.

She’d never belonged to anyone, not through love nor through familial association. Her father had treated her as a commodity to be offered and bartered to the highest bidder, and her mother, until her death, had appeared to agree with him.

She’d lingered long enough in her bath and knew that William would be getting anxious. If she didn’t meet with him soon, no doubt he would stride back in, demanding to know what she was doing.

She climbed out of the tub and dressed quickly in her dressing gown. She brushed her hair and plaited it neatly before sliding her feet into her slippers. Taking a deep breath, she went to meet William.

She knocked softly on the door of his study and entered on his invitation. He was standing in front of the fire holding a tumbler of what appeared to be Scotch.

“Come and sit, Lilly,” he invited, indicating a large chair in front of the fireplace. He poured her a glass of sherry and pressed it into her hand. She took a sip gratefully, relishing the warmth the alcohol provided.

He stood quietly assessing her for a moment then took a seat facing her, resting one foot across his opposite knee. The tumbler dangled from the fingers of his right hand as he ran the fingers of his left back and forth across his lips and gazed at her thoughtfully.