The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (10 page)

C
ecelia thought it was amazing what miracles had been accomplished in a few weeks time. The wedding wasn’t quite the grand society affair it would have been had it been held in London during the season, but it had required the full attention every warm body living in Reston Manor, plus quite a bit of additional hired help.
    Her wedding gown had been sewn by a local seamstress who, Cecelia decided, would see a well deserved increase in business after today. Miss Haley had worked day and night to produce an elegant creation of ivory Belgian lace that skimmed her curves before swirling to the floor. The long sleeves puffed at the shoulders then tapered, buttoning tightly at the wrists. Her lace gloves were sheer enough to see through and the large square emerald ring had slipped easily onto her finger. Mattie had braided her hair, wrapping it neatly around her head in a stylish coronet, though it hadn’t taken long before the red gold tendrils were escaping their braids and brushing against her forehead and temples. Even so, she felt beautiful as she’d walked up the isle on her brother’s arm before he’d handed her over to Rand with a conspiratorial wink.
    She thought Eugene had looked splendid in black silk breeches and jacket, though not as splendid as the bridegroom who wore dove gray breeches and waistcoat with a slightly darker jacket. A diamond horseshoe shaped pin was tucked into his cravat. The bruising around his eye was gone and every strand of his sandy blond hair was in place. She’d tried her best to mess it up during their carriage ride from the chapel to the reception at Reston Manor but he’d caught her wrists and kissed her. By the time they’d reached their destination her coiffure had needed far more repair than his.
    “I do believe Lady Fitzberry has managed to stop sobbing,” Rand murmured after the last group of guests had offered their congratulations to the couple and left the receiving line in search of champagne punch and sweet meats. “She was boohooing so loudly throughout the service that I could scarcely hear a word the good reverend said. I was surprised someone didn’t roll her out of the chapel and leave her outside. Do you suppose we agreed to anything unseemly when we said our I do’s?”
    She laughed and murmured back, “I can’t imagine Reverend Brown ever saying anything unseemly, much less asking us to repeat it.”
    He pulled a long face. “Pity. I did have my hopes up.”
    Still laughing, she said, “Someone should go rescue your mama. She’s in an untenable situation. Aunt Mirabella is talking her ear off and she can’t very well just excuse herself and leave Aunt sitting alone in her wheelchair. She still hasn’t the knack of rolling herself around without banging into something or someone and Eugene has requested in a very no nonsense manner that she not attempt to do so in a room full of guests.”
    “It would mean certain disaster,” Rand agreed. “The guests would most likely fall over one another like a row of dominos." His eyes widened slightly as he nudged his bride. "Ah, it appears that your brother has valiantly come forward to liberate my mother.” Then he scowled. “Blast! Hasn’t my mother given us her heartfelt best wishes, kissed you on the cheek countless times and told us how deliriously happy she is that we’ve married?”
    “Yes.” Cecelia grinned. “She and your sister both.”
    “Then why in the devil is she coming this way?”
    “Do stop scowling, Thomas,” his mother chided as she arrived at his side. She had never been willing to call him anything other than his given name. “Your face may freeze with that horrible expression and then where would you be?” Mrs. Danfield was an attractive woman, tall and slender without a hint of gray in her sandy blond hair. The family resemblance between mother, son and daughter was strong.
    “Yes, Mother dear,” Rand said cheekily.
    She waved him off. “Run along and mingle with your guests. I have important things to discuss with your bride.” She waited until he had turned to walk off and then added, “And Thomas?”
    He turned back. “Yes, Mother?”
    “This is a wedding. Your wedding. No card games. No gambling.”
    He grinned. “How unfair of you to suggest I would do such a thing.”
    “I know you too well. Now go away and allow me to chat with Cecelia.” She took Cecelia by the arm and led her to an alcove at the far corner of the ballroom before whispering in her ear, “Has anyone spoken to you about your wedding night, dear? What you should expect? I realize this isn’t quite the time for an involved discussion, but truth be told, I haven’t had the nerve to ask before now. But if you need to talk, I suppose we could disappear for a brief spell.”
    Cecelia blinked. The question had caught her by surprise. “Um, yes. Priscilla did.” “Oh, splendid,” Mrs. Danfield said with obvious relief. “That’s simply splendid. It can be a most uncomfortable conversation. I was a nervous wreck when Julia married. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to manage it. One simply doesn’t know how much to say. If one explains too much then the poor bride could be terrified beforehand. Not,” she added as she patted Cecelia on the shoulder. “That there’s anything to be terrified of. But of course if one doesn’t say enough the bride won’t be prepared and I suppose that would be even worse. What I mean to say is that it can be quite a shock. Oh dear, I am rambling aren’t I? I suppose I didn’t do too badly with Julia as she has three children and her husband seems quite devoted. And from what I understand Thomas has quite a lot of experience and you shouldn’t worry about anything.” She stopped abruptly and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my. Did I really just say that? I do apologize.”
    Cecelia grinned at her. “I should be fine. I was raised in the country, you know. My sensibilities are not as delicate as some.”
    The relief on her face was visible. She smiled broadly. “Of course. I hadn’t considered that. And you do have quite a few sheep and other farm creatures, don’t you? I suppose that would be quite an education in such matters.”
    “Yes. And Papa bred horses up until a few years ago.”
    “Horses?” A frown creased Mrs. Danfield’s brow. “Oh dear, I’m not certain that’s really a fair comparison. I mean stallions are enormously… You can’t expect... Oh blast!” She flushed to the roots of her hairline. “I’m certain that you and Thomas will deal famously in such matters. And now that I’ve made utter cake of myself, I believe I’ll go and hide amongst the potted plants.”
    Cecelia put her arm around her and said, ‘You were wonderful. Thank you.”
    “Did I tell you how happy I am to have you as a daughter-in-law? Now I must go find Julia and inform her that you aren’t in need of our little discussion. We actually drew straws for this. Come along dear. I must get you back to your guests.”
    As Cecelia allowed herself to be pulled across the floor she couldn’t help but wonder whether her mother-in-law had drawn the short or long straw.
    The next few hours were like a dream. The musicians were superb and Cecelia had waltzed, first with Rand and then with her brother. She shared a country dance with her new brother-in-law, Julia’s husband, Gene Hamilton. She danced until she was breathless and then danced some more. She and Rand cut their cake, a seven layer affair studded with fruit and nuts, frosted with a thick white icing and decorated with candied roses. It was delicious and she ignored the headmistress, Miss Thornton’s dictate that she only take a few bites and leave the rest on her plate. Stratton toasted the couple. Mirabella blubbered off and on and the time flew by. She didn’t realize how much until her husband came up beside her and whispered in her ear. “It’s past four. If we don’t leave soon, I’m apt to throw you onto the buffet table right next to the punch bowl, toss up your skirts and have my way with you.”
    A sudden heat filled her and her eyes glowed as she whispered back, “I should like to try that. Not here of course. Do I sit or lay down on the table?”
    He put his hand at the small of her back. “Both.”
    She looked at him boldly. “And what else shall we do?”
    He almost groaned. “There are many ways, my sweet. I promise you we shall try them all.”
    It took no additional prodding. They soon said their good-byes and headed for Bryony Hall leaving their guests at Reston Manor to their merry making.

Mattie was waiting for her in her new chambers when she reached Bryony Hall. “Isn’t this ever so exciting?” she breathed. “Bernice, the chamber maid, said this whole wing’s been closed up for years. She said they spent days and days, cleaning an’ polishing, an’ beatin’ the dust out o’ the rugs. He had furniture brought out o’ storage. She said ‘e wanted it perfect for you. Such a grand room, milady. Fit for a queen.”
    It was easily twice the size of her bed chamber at Reston. Burgundy velvet trimmed with cream colored lace hung at the bay window and draped the four poster mahogany bed. The bedside tables were rosewood Rococo, the two armchairs that flanked the fireplace were upholstered in a richly colored tapestry, the tall chest-on-chest and dresser were Chippendale and a beautiful cloisonné vase filled with red and yellow roses graced the center of the gilded plaster mantle. It was far different from the virginal white bed chamber she had left behind. The only familiar items were the set of silver brushes laid out on the dresser and her writing desk. She felt a little out of place. Her new surroundings would take some getting used to.
    “Come look at the dressing room, milady.”
    Curious, Cecelia walked through the double doors. The dressing room held two mahogany linen presses inlaid with ebony and burl, a matching dressing table with a large tri-fold mirror and a cheval full length mirror in the corner. Opposite that was a carved rosewood screen. Curious, she crossed the room and peered behind it. The largest copper bathtub she had ever seen was positioned in the corner and next to it was a beautiful marble topped table holding bath oils and salts, milled soaps, a dish of rose scented potpourri and a stack of thick fluffy towels.
    “Have you ever seen the likes of it, milady?”
    Cecelia shook her head. “I haven’t.” It seemed that he had spared no trouble or expense in preparing for her comfort. But they had spent too much time admiring her chambers. She didn’t want to be caught with her hair halfway down when he arrived. She started back toward the bedroom. “Come along, Mattie. I can’t get out of this gown by myself.”
    Mattie’s nimble fingers made quick work of the long row of pearl buttons on the back of Cecelia’s gown. The gown fell to the floor in a puddle and Cecelia kicked off her slippers and undergarments while Mattie retrieved the gown and peignoir that was laid out on the bed. She slipped the gown over Cecelia’s head and then blurted out, “Oh my gawd, milady! You can see right through it! You’d best get this robe on before Lord Clarendon comes in.”
    The gown was a low cut bit of champagne tinted lace and sheer netting and Cecelia had loved it from the moment she saw it. She grinned as she put her arm through the sleeve of the peignoir Mattie held out for her. “I believe that’s the point. Now stop blushing and help me get these hair pins out.”
    Unwinding and combing out the braids took appreciably longer than disrobing and by the time her hair fell loose and shining, an impatient knock sounded at the door and then it opened.
    Mattie squealed when Rand strode in wearing a blue dressing gown. She quickly bobbed her curtsy, gathered up Cecelia’s things and fled the room.
    Rand chuckled. “I believe, I’ve frightened your maid.”
    “I think my gown embarrassed her.” She slipped off her peignoir and let it fall to the floor. “Do you like it?”
    His eyes drifted leisurely down the length of her body and then back up again. “I love your gown.”
    “Priscilla blushed the entire time, but she helped me pick it out.”
    “I must remember to thank her.”
    Cecelia burst into laughter. “You wouldn’t dare.”
    He offered a lazy smile. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. She would be mortified.”
    She smiled back at him then said, “I must confess that I’m nervous.”
    Surprise registered on his face. “Why on earth would you be nervous? We have done this before.”
    “I know. And it was wonderful.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Was that unusual? Will it always be as superb?”
    “Are you afraid you won’t enjoy it as much once the novelty has worn off?”
    “I suppose,” she admitted. “I’ve overheard women talk. Some seem to think of the marriage bed as a chore.” She paused. “I don’t ever want to feel that way.”
    He chuckled. “Then we must take care to keep our love making pleasurable, though I can’t imagine it ever being otherwise.” He held out his hand. “Come along. We’re spending too much time talking and not enough loving.”
    She came to him and took his hand. “Where shall we go?”
    “We will start in my chambers.”
    “Start?” She grinned. “And after that?”
    “You may pick.” He guided her through the double doors that led to his chambers. His room was of a similar size but the furnishings were heavier and the gold drapes and bed coverings lacked the lace that decorated hers. It was a masculine room, but not uncomfortably so. The bed covers had been folded back exposing ivory pillow casings and sheets.
    “Rand, I was wondering...”
    “Mmm?”
    “Will we sleep together?”
    “Sleep is not what I have in mind at the moment, but if you wish it, we can.”
    “I think it would be nice.”
    He turned her around and walked her backwards until she fell crosswise onto the bed. She looked up at him with laughter in her eyes. “Right or left?”
    “Left, I think.” He eased on the bed beside her and curved his palm around her left breast. “Though, they’re both delightful. Truthfully, I can’t imagine that I would ever favor one over the other.”
    Her lips parted and her eyes closed as she felt the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of her gown. “Silly,” she murmured. “I meant what side do you want to sleep on?”
    He lightly circled the taut nipple with his forefinger and she felt a wetness bloom between her legs. It seemed he only had to touch her and her body sprung to life.
    He bent his head until his lips were next to her ear. “Be quiet.”
    Keeping his eyes on hers, he continued to stroke her breast with a feather light touch, keeping the fabric of the gown between his fingertips and her skin. She brought her hand to the bodice of her gown and tugged to expose her breast, but he placed his hand over hers. “Leave it.”
    So she sighed softly, closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations that flowed through her. He touched her with only his fingertips circling her breasts, skimming her nipples through the thin fabric until they ached with need. When she thought she could bear it no longer his hand moved down her belly, then stopped.
    “Open your legs.” His voice was barely a whisper.
    She parted her legs and held her breath in anticipation.
    He laughed softly then kissed her gently on the lips. As his lips traced her jaw line she felt her belly clench. The ache between her legs was near unbearable. Her heart was racing and her breath came unevenly. “Touch me.” The words sounded distant.
    “Not yet. Open your legs more.”
    She did. His lips followed the line of her throat to the hollow between her breasts but he made no move to touch her
there.
    “Please.”
    “Hush.”
    “But.”
    “Shh.”
    Her lids flew open. His head turned to look at her. He grinned.
    “I hate you,” she mouthed.
    His breath tickled against her belly as he laughed. “Harsh words for your bridegroom. I’m crushed.” His hand grazed against the fabric covering the mound of copper curls between her legs. She lifted her hips but he pulled his hand away.
    She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
    “Tell me what you want.”
    “Touch me.”
    “Where?”
    She took his hand ground it into her as she rubbed against him. “There!”
    “Ah, here.” His fingertips massaged the wet flesh between her legs with the fabric of her gown. A sweet searing heat gripped her. Her breath came in short pants and she lifted her hips higher as she rubbed against him. It was both wonderful and awful. She wanted it to go on forever and she wanted an end to this desperate need.
    “More,” she whispered.
    He removed his hand.
    “No!” She tried to reach for him but he pushed her hand away.
    “Yes.” He peeled back the wet gown and then put his mouth where his hand had been and kissed her. A small sound came from her throat as he ran the tip of his tongue along the glistening folds. He slid his hands beneath her hips and drew her legs over his shoulders. He stretched the folds apart with his thumbs and licked and suckled the little pearl of pleasure buried in the front of her cleft. It was something she never could have imagined. It was heaven. All conscious thought shut down. She was only aware of sensation as he made love to her with his mouth and tongue. And then that strange and wonderful rush of sensation came, rippling through her, causing her to cry out because she simply could not help herself.
    She opened her eyes to see him gazing at her, wearing a smile of self-satisfaction, his hazel eyes heavy-lidded and glittering with desire.
    “That was brilliant,” she murmured. “Absolutely brilliant.”
    “I’m not done yet.”
    She eyed his erection. “Apparently not.”