Norrington Abbey (4 page)

Chapter 4

Catherine tried to catch her breath, her body still trembling from all John had done to her. Oh, this was so much better than her dreams!

“Catherine, love,” he rasped, nuzzling her cheek. “My God, Catherine.”

She stroked his broad shoulders, feeling her pussy twinge with every breath. He was still pressed against her, and she wished for a moment that she could have him deep inside. Even in her fevered dreams she’d never imagine such a thing. It felt as though something was missing. She’d had her very first climax yet she felt incomplete.

“John, could you…”

He straightened and flashed her a bright smile. “I don’t want to crush you.” He’d misunderstood. She didn’t want to let go. No, she wanted him to finish what he started. However could she admit such a thing?

He pulled away from her with a grunt, and before she could glimpse that remarkable member hidden in his trousers he shifted to conceal it from view. He then helped her arrange herself, easing her skirts down and brushing his hands over the fabric.

“Not too wrinkled,” he said.

She looked down and allowed that no one would guess how altered she was beneath her pretty gown. He hadn’t taken her, but that was due to his presence of forethought, not her own. What did this mean? Did John wish a permanent arrangement? She dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. That would be ridiculous. She was nothing.

Her fingers shook as she attempted to fasten her spencer over her still-tingling breasts. John took over the task, dropping a kiss on her cheek when he’d finished.

“There. Once again you are a picture.”

The sound of carriage wheels over the road reached her. John turned, a frown marring his handsome face for a moment. Then he smiled at her. “This is just the beginning, Catherine,” he rushed out. “I will find a way for us to be together.”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean, John?”

He flashed another smile then shook his head. “My sister and Tilman are nearly upon us.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’ll speak soon.”

Henry’s carriage pulled up behind John’s. Henry glared at John before alighting and assisting Isabella out of the carriage.

“I say, your horses are very fast,” Henry said.

John shrugged. “I saw no reason to put off our pleasure to keep to a slower pace.”

Catherine’s face heated at his words. Pleasure, indeed! Isabella stared at her, her head tilted to one side. Could she guess what John had done to her? Or what she longed for him to do still? Catherine glanced at Henry, seeing that dark intent in his soulful eyes. Her gaze fell to his hands. They were such nice hands. How would he make love? She gave herself a mental shake. Oh, she had to cease with these fantasies.

“I’m glad you’ve joined us,” Catherine said to him.

Henry smiled, and it was as if he touched her as intimately as John had. That man wore a suspicious cast on his features, and Catherine turned from both of them.

“Let us take in the view,” Isabella said. “That is the reason we rode out here, is it not?”

Catherine nodded, but she couldn’t form words at present. She’d come out to learn more about her two gentlemen, to perhaps decide which one was the true hero of her dreams. She was still unsure. The memories of what they’d done to her in that darkened corridor, what John did to her in the bright sunshine, combined to make her ache for them both. She might never secure a marriage of her own, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge her fantasies, did it?

The late morning passed into afternoon, and by that time Catherine was ready to scream her frustration to the beautiful blue sky. John was solicitous and teasing, flirting shamelessly while Henry eased himself ever closer to her on the blanket he’d brought. She barely participated in the conversation, though Isabella didn’t seem to notice. That was fortunate for Catherine, as John and Henry monopolized all of her attention and interest.

Her drawers were wet and rubbed against her swollen pussy every time she shifted. The day had grown warmer, but she didn’t dare remove her borrowed spencer. Her breasts were tingling, her nipples tight against her stays, and she didn’t trust herself not to rub her hands over the aching tips to ease their discomfort should she have access.

She could smell both men now, that leather and woodsy scent of John that had filled her in the carriage and a fresh soapy scent she now knew as Henry’s. Their scents mingled with the fresh grass and wildflowers growing with abandon on the hill. What would happen if Isabella had not been there as oblivious chaperone? Would Catherine dare to ask John and Henry to please her as they had in her dreams?

“It looks like our day shall end with rain,” Henry said.

Catherine had been studying his mouth, so it was a few moments before his words penetrated. “Oh, rain?”

“John, you had better get your carriage back before it starts,” Isabella said.

“Come, Catherine,” John said, coming to his feet.

“I shall take Miss Morris, Thorne,” Henry said.

Take her? She stared at Henry. Oh, he could not mean
take
her! Catherine’s heart doubled its beat as the two of them silently clashed. Isabella was smoothing her clothing to remove any stray blades of grass, so she didn’t seem to notice the animosity flowing between the men.

“Catherine came with me,” John said.

The wicked glint in his eye told her he meant his words as he said them. She had indeed found her release under his skillful touch. Henry’s eyes narrowed and she watched as his nostrils flared. “Nevertheless.”

“Do come, brother,” Isabella said with irritation. “Let us return before your lovely cushions get soaked.”

Once more John smiled in Catherine’s direction. He was so naughty!

He bowed at her and Henry. “We shall see you at home, Catherine.” He flicked his eyes at Henry. “Tilman.”

Henry seemed pleased by the turn of events. He assisted Catherine into his modest carriage and secured the top. He then climbed up to drive them back to Bath.

Catherine sat in the darkened vehicle, nibbling her bottom lip. She replayed their outing in her mind, her feelings in a muddle. Perhaps it was a good thing that Henry and John were both out of her reach. The rhythmic rocking of the carriage served to heighten her arousal, the patter of raindrops on the roof soon adding to her discomfort. She could almost imagine herself in her little bed in Bath, lost in the wicked sensations her dream lovers could give her.

She unbuttoned her spencer and rubbed her palms over her nipples. This only inflamed her, hidden as they were behind her stays. She removed her jacket and reached behind to tug at the laces, loosening them enough to allow her to ease her fingers between the garment and her flesh. Oh, how good that felt! She let out a moan as she pinched and teased her nipples.

The carriage pulled to a stop, rocking violently as it settled. The door opened and Henry stood there, dripping from the rain. His eyes were fastened on her breasts and he licked his lips. “Catherine.”

* * * *

Henry stared at Catherine, taking in her expression of surprise. Her eyes were round, her mouth open. But it was her hands that drew his gaze. Her delicate fingers teased the prettiest breasts he’d ever seen. Her nipples were a shade darker than the rose of her lips, puckered and pert. Though she was probably unaware of it, she continued to caress them. His mouth watered as he imagined stroking the tips with his tongue.

“Catherine,” he said again.

He’d thought he’d heard her moaning but he never imagined he’d find her like this.

“Henry,” she said, dropping her hands behind her on the seat. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“Supposed to see your beautiful breasts?” he finished for her. “What, that privilege is reserved for John Thorne?”

She glanced down and pulled her dress over her breasts. “No, John did not see them.”

He closed the door and joined her on the narrow seat. He’d never much liked his small carriage, but he was grateful for its meager dimensions now. “Did he touch them?”

Her gaze slid to her hands, twisting in her skirts. “He didn’t, not really.”

He had to know. “But you wanted him to.”

Her long lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes. “Yes. As I want you to now.”

He cupped one breast, feeling its precious weight, its heat. Her nipple puckered against his palm and he gave a gentle squeeze. “Ah, Catherine.”

She arched slightly, rubbing against his hand. “Touch me, Henry.” She closed her eyes. “Please.”

He licked his lips then closed his mouth over the bud. She cried out and he began to suckle. She tasted as sweet as she smelled and his cock throbbed to life. He reached beneath her skirts and touched her. Her drawers were drenched and he lifted his head to glance down. “Did Thorne touch you?”

“Yes.” She spread her thighs to his touch. “He touched my…pussy.”

The word was a whisper as her cheeks turned pink. He removed her drawers and dipped a fingertip within her folds. Tiny muscles pulled at him as she moaned again.

“Did he fu—Did he take you?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. I have never…No.”

Henry spread her pretty pussy, longing for more light through the rainy windows. Falling to his knees, he watched the play of his hands over the milky skin revealed above her stockings. Her scent was sharper now, her juices catching the meager light within the carriage to glisten invitingly. “Did he taste you?”

She jerked upward. “No!”

Henry smiled. He saw the shock on her face but the speculation, too. Unable to stop himself, he buried his face between her thighs. Gripping her slender hips, he licked and sucked at her flesh. Her clit was swollen already, due to his play on her breasts and her own innate sensuality. She was so responsive, writhing beneath his tongue as he drove her toward climax. Thorne might have been the first to touch her but
he
was the first to taste her. And ah, what a treat!

“Just like my dream,” he heard her whisper. “Oh, Henry!”

He stilled. She’d dreamt of this? His balls began to ache, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from giving her what she craved. “Come for me now, Catherine.” He flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit. “Come for me.”

In the next moment, she did. Her soft cries of completion filled the vehicle as surely as her scent, her juices as sweet on his tongue as he’d imagined.

He waited for her to regain herself. She was a limp mass of sexual satisfaction there before him, and he knew if he freed his cock to fuck her she wouldn’t resist. She was pure, though. He had to know she would be only his if he took this step.

“I won’t take you,” he said softly.

She opened her eyes at last and gazed at him.

“That was lovely, Henry. I know I shouldn’t have let you do that, but oh, it was heavenly.”

There was affection in her gaze, he was sure of it. She couldn’t care more for him, knowing him for so short a time. Undoubtedly, she felt the same for Thorne, damn him. And that scoundrel was staying in the same house!

“Come with me to Norrington Abbey,” he rushed out.

“I cannot!” She shook her head. “I must stay with Isabella. I am to be her companion and I cannot…” She looked down. “I am dependent upon the Thornes.”

It was as he’d heard, then. She was without fortune or any wealthy family to see to her future. No matter. He wanted her. He was not without resources. An idea began to form, one where she could come and stay with him forever.

“You will be a guest, Catherine. You will have no worries while at the abbey, I promise you.”

“But what of afterward? No. I must stay with the Thornes.”

The rain began to lessen on the roof. He gave a nod and helped her adjust her clothes. “We do not have to decide matters now, love. Let me speak to my father—”

“The general?” She cut in. “Oh no, Henry. You mustn’t tell your father what we shared. Surely he would not want me in his home.”

Although he did not want to admit it, she had the right of it. He would have to approach the general tonight and make arrangements. He had to get Catherine away from the Thornes. It was the only chance he had to make her see she belonged with him.

Chapter 5

Catherine sat alone in the carriage once again, the trip taking far longer than when she’d traveled with John in his fast carriage. She was grateful for the solitude and the time, for both gave her the opportunity to consider what she would do about John’s attentions and Henry’s offer.

Neither gentlemen spoke of forever. That was painfully clear to her. They wanted her, there was no question. From every touch, look, and caress she could tell they cared for her at least a little bit. She was one of ten children, with nothing to recommend her but her beauty and good manners. Surely either man could find a woman who was her equal or better in those respects, with a fortune to boot!

Oh, she didn’t even know which man she would want if either of them made her a true offer. John would no doubt want a mistress, which she could never consent to be. As for Henry? He was likely of the same mind, as his father would never approve of his marrying a girl like her. Why did she have to indulge her illicit desires with them?

“Because you wanted them both,” she told herself softly. “And you still do.”

She should stop herself from ever being alone with either one of them from now on. She was still a virgin, through no part of her own. Both of them had made that decision for her, weak-willed girl that she was. Should she be alone with John or Henry—or both of them!—she would undoubtedly beg them to take her. A tiny taste of the pleasures they could give her only made her crave for more from both of them.

When they arrived back at the Thornes’s rented house, she was still confounded. Henry smiled so sweetly at her when he helped her from the carriage she nearly cried. Was he so oblivious to the obstacles between them? Stature and station, the same things that separated her from John. However, the biggest blockade in her mind was her desire for the both of them.

“Well, you finally made it back,” John said as they entered the house.

His voice sounded teasing, but she saw the irritation on his face. Did he suspect what she and Henry had done?

“The rain slowed us considerably,” Henry answered.

John raked his gaze over Catherine and she shivered. She wasn’t chilled, not at all. His expression was as carnal as it had been as he’d brought her to her first climax.

“Just in time for tea!” Isabella said as she joined them. “Come into the parlor. Aunt Beatrice is within as well.”

Henry and John stared at each other, and then Henry nodded. “I would be delighted.”

He held out his elbow to Catherine, but John was faster. “Come, Catherine.”

She stood between them and was suddenly gripped with the naughty notion to take each of them in hand. Wouldn’t they be scandalized if they could read her mind! Instead, she lightly touched John’s sleeve and let him take her into the parlor.

It was a pretty room, with two comfortable settees and a few chairs arranged in front of the marble hearth. A low fire burned there, in deference to the chilly rain. John led her to one of the settees and sat beside her. Henry stiffened then settled in a chair beside Isabella.

“Did you all enjoy your excursion?” John and Isabella’s aunt asked from her perch on the other settee. “I daresay it is a shame it was cut short by the weather.”

“It was lovely, Aunt,” Isabella said.

“And what of you, Catherine?” the older woman asked. “Did my nephew and Mr. Tilman take good care of you?”

Catherine lowered her lashes. If the woman knew what she’d done, first with her nephew and then with a man wholly unconnected to her, she would set Catherine from the house in an instant. “Yes, ma’am.”

The elder Miss Thorne eyed her closely, finally nodding to the maid to set down her tray and leave them.

Tea was served and pleasantries exchanged, then Henry gave her a look of determination. He would repeat his offer to take her to Norrington Abbey, of that she had no doubt. Her heart tripped and she leaned toward him. “Please don’t,” she whispered.

“What is that, Catherine?” Isabella asked from her seat opposite.

“Don’t what, pray?” John asked, a slight growl in his voice.

Henry squared his shoulders. “I asked Miss Morris to join me and my family when we return to Norrington Abbey two days hence.”

John came to his feet. “She cannot possibly leave my aunt and sister, Tilman.”

“John, do let Mr. Tilman continue,” Isabella said. “Why do you wish to take Catherine with you?”

“I merely wish to continue our acquaintance,” Henry answered.

Catherine saw the contemplative expression on Isabella’s face. Most presumed she was feather-headed, but Catherine knew better. Isabella was sharp indeed.

“Well, she would enjoy a visit,” Isabella said. “No doubt the place is quite Gothic? Catherine so enjoys those novels, you know.”

“Quite,” Henry said.

Isabella looked down, running her fingers over her teacup. “Will your family return to the abbey as well?”

Henry looked confused by the question, but Catherine knew why she asked. The girl had developed a fascination with the rakish Frederick Tilman.

“My brother and father will follow within the week. We have ample staff, so there is no worry to Miss Morris’s reputation.”

“There won’t be,” John said. “I believe my sister should accompany her.”

Catherine stilled. “But what of your aunt?” She faced the older woman. “Ma’am, surely you do not wish to leave Bath.”

“I don’t believe there is any reason for me to, dear. I wish to stay and visit with my friends, friends too old and too dull to interest you girls. You and Isabella go, that is if Mr. Tilman wishes to extend the invitation.”

“Of course,” Henry said with a smile. “I would delight in nothing more.”

John was rigid beside Catherine, his hands fisted. Then he suddenly eased, leaning back and crossing his legs. She could not guess the reason for his turnabout, but she’d seen that knowing expression on his face just hours earlier. It was precisely when he’d given her the first taste of splendid release. What was he about?

“I fear I must accompany the ladies, Tilman,” John said. “That is, if you think you can extend the invitation to include me as well.”

Catherine shot him a look. He had Henry trapped and he knew it. One glance over at Henry told her that her dilemma wouldn’t resolve itself any time soon. No, her irrational desire for the both of them would continue through her awkward visit to Norrington Abbey.

“Of course,” Henry said, his voice clipped.

Then he shot her a look of hunger that mirrored the one John had employed. Perhaps the general wouldn’t allow it. That was her only hope. And her worry, truth be told. At least to herself, she had to acknowledge that the prospect of roaming the Gothic castle with her two beaux beside her filled her body with wants she longed to indulge.

Surely there were hidden passageways and secluded alcoves just meant for further exploration into the sensual delights they’d begun. Hiding her smile, she sipped at her tea.