The Substitute Countess (10 page)

“I must meet with Hobson in a while,” he said, as if he had read her mind. “Shall I look in on you later?”

Laurel smiled up at him and nodded, afraid to speak for fear a spoken invitation might seem too forward.

“Later then,” he said as he opened her bedroom door for her and saw her inside.

Finally, she thought as she pulled the pins from her hair, he would come to her as a husband. It was high time and she felt ready to become a wife in truth. She knew it might prove awkward but he would know what to do. There had been precious little physical affection in her life thus far and she hoped to find that with Jack.

His kiss had stirred something that had lain dormant within her and his frequent touches, innocent as they had been, warmed her to near melting. The memory of his mouth on hers had not diminished at all, and he had such wonderful hands. She had been held in his arms of necessity a time or two. Now she wanted his embrace for real, not prompted by protection or comfort, but by desire.

He kept delaying for some reason, but she knew that he wanted her, at least some of the time. Perhaps she would choose one of those times and become the instigator. One thing she did know, she was heartily tired of waiting for life to sweep her along this way and that.

Her father had sent her away. The nuns had secured her employment. Jack had spirited her away and arranged their marriage. Perhaps it was time she chose a direction for herself instead of waiting for things to happen to her and trying so hard to react correctly when they did.

She smoothed her hands over her breasts as they swelled beneath the blue silk of her bodice. Would he touch her there? Laurel felt uncomfortably confined in the tightly laced corset and gown.

Jack had told her that her mother was not of good repute. She had been labeled a cyprian, one of the fashionable impure. Laurel wondered if perhaps she had inherited her mother’s wanton ways. If so, at least she could satisfy those leanings within the married state, and no one but Jack need ever know.

He might not see her as wanton since he had probably never had a highborn lady in his bed. His experience had likely been with women who earned their living by offering pleasure. She would not be adept at it, given she knew so little about such things. But then, Sister Josephina had always remarked on how quickly Laurel learned new skills.

The thought made Laurel smile. She wrapped her arms around herself, fell back onto the white silken counterpane and waited for Betty to come and undress her.

* * *

Two hours later, that was how Jack found her. He almost left her to sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to do so this time. Hadn’t that wordless welcome in her eyes qualified as a near demand? Well, perhaps not, but it certainly gave him a good excuse to see whether she was serious about it or simply testing her flirting skills.

She came awake slowly as he removed her slippers. “Jack?” she murmured as she rubbed her eyes. “La, I’m still dressed!”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. Betty can’t be found and neither can George.”

She sat up. “They’re
missing?
”

He nodded as he set her slippers aside and sat with her on the bed. “I suspect it’s on purpose.”

“An assignation?” she asked, biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I hadn’t noticed an attachment.”

“Neither have I, but that seems to be the case.”

“Whatever should we do?” she asked, and again he saw the invitation he thought he’d imagined earlier. He figured she would not have that slumberous look in her eyes if she were still indisposed and wished him to leave.

Chapter Ten

“W
e might have to fend for ourselves tonight,” he said, pulling a fake frown. “However on earth will we manage?”

Laurel pursed her lips and shot him an inquisitive look. “Do you mean to undress me yourself?”

“Oh, very well, I’ll help you out, but I’ll need instructions,” he said with a sigh. “And I suppose you’ll have to do for me, as well.”

“Only fair I should,” she replied as she slid off the bed and stood with her back to him. “Laces, please.”

Slowly, enjoying every small tug, he drew the blue woven cord through the four embroidered eyelets until it came completely free. With his thumbs, he slid the sleeves off her arms and the blue gown puddled on the floor around her stocking feet.

“There now,” he crooned, smoothing the length of her arms with his palms. “And what is this contraption?”

“A torture device obviously invented by a man who hated all females,” she informed him with a breathless little laugh.

“We should divest you of it immediately, hunt down this fellow and hang him,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “Allow me.”

He untied the petticoat attached to the corset, then repeated the unlacing, a bit faster this time. They stood so close, the lilac scent of her had enveloped him in some sort of erotic spell. He did not want to hurry, and yet he did want to.

She liked the teasing nature of his seduction, and Jack was glad. This could prove uncomfortable for the both of them if she turned shy and frightened. Her mood seemed almost playful. Odd, for a virgin, but he appreciated her courage.

He bowed to kiss her shoulder. She leaned to give him better access, and he trailed his lips to her neck, tasting the smooth creaminess of her skin. Her slight shiver felt more like anticipation than fear.

Jack peeled the corset from the wrinkled shift she wore underneath and tossed it aside. Her body felt warm beneath his hands as he slid his palms over her waist and ribs, soothing away the garment’s constriction. “You are so slender, you need no enhancement,” he whispered close to her ear. “So beautiful.” He tried to bite back the word that had angered her before, but it had slipped out.

She did not seem to mind it this time, he thought with a satisfied smile. He continued to caress her, slowly moving to the underside of her breasts, then cupping them, teasing the tips. He felt her inhale sharply, so he changed direction and palmed her abdomen instead. Her body undulated slightly. “Ticklish?” he asked, his mouth against her ear, and followed with a nibble there.

“No.” She turned her head, seeking his mouth, and he complied, kissing her softly as he turned her body around to meet his. Fire caught in his belly as her tongue met his in bolder exploration than expected.
Not too fast,
his reason warned, and Jack drew away from her slightly, ending the kiss.

He smiled down at her as he plucked the pins from her hair and dropped them to the floor one by one. Her pale tresses tumbled around her shoulders and he stroked that sweet scented silk with the back of his hand. “Eagerness becomes you. Have a care you aren’t ravished.”

Her eyes widened and she ducked her head, but he framed her face in his hands and lifted her lips to his again, varying the intensity, shifting the connection, tasting her fully, then nipping softly at each lip. She made a sound of impatience and he smiled inwardly.

He felt her hands on his shoulders, fingers plucking at his coat. “Ah, so it’s my turn,” he murmured against her mouth. He loved that she made no secret of her need. No coy posturing, no pretense at all.

When he released her, she placed her thumbs beneath his lapels and pushed the coat off his shoulders. He let it drop to the floor and watched her face as she examined his neckcloth, then untied it. Next she unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid her hands beneath it to embrace him again.

Her cheek brushed against his shirtfront. For a long moment, he simply enjoyed the feel of her warm breath at his chest and the way her breasts pushed against his body.

If he didn’t have her soon, it would be a swift coupling when it did come about.

He took her arms and moved her away so he could remove the waistcoat and slip the shirt over his head. Her hands immediately returned to slide over his chest and shoulders as he bared them.

It was as if she had never seen a man unclothed before, and Jack knew that must be true. Where would she have done? Again he reminded himself she was an innocent, dependent upon him to guide and instruct, protect and pamper.

By her own admission, she knew little of what this event would entail, possibly not enough to fear it. “Shall I explain what we will do?” he asked softly.

“Show me,” she murmured, her attention and fingers now on the buttons of his trouser flap. Jack almost laughed at his estimation of her. She might be untried, but she definitely was not shy in this regard. However he did not want his trousers trapped around his ankles, so he removed her hands, raised them to his lips and kissed them. “Boots first,” he explained.

She watched as he sat in her desk chair and tugged off his Hessians. He removed his stockings, as well, all the while keeping an eye on her reactions. Her hands were fisted in the fabric of her shift. Perhaps she was a bit apprehensive. “You aren’t afraid, are you?”

She shook her head, still watching avidly every move he made.

He stood and shucked off his trousers, allowing her to look as she would. Only fair that he should let her become accustomed before she bared everything to him. Jack had never been overly modest, but he did feel a bit self-conscious at the moment. He expected she would be a little frightened since he was in a full state of readiness.

She turned away, fingertips pressed to her lips. “My. That is not at all as I envisioned.” Her voice faltered a bit. Was she laughing? Gasping?

“What?” he demanded, approaching to turn her back around so he could see her face. And so that she could not view him naked again with that expression. He wasn’t certain if her wide-eyed look had been one of wonder or horror. “What did you expect, then?”

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head again before answering. “I saw this statue,” she said finally, brushing against him. The soft material of her shift raked his erection. “At the hacienda. It had, well...less.” The back of her hand touched his member. He almost lost control. Was this teasing deliberate or a product of her innocence and curiosity? The question incited him even more.

“You play with fire,” he warned, smiling as he closed his eyes, inhaling the wonderful scent of her, loving the very sound of her breath and how uneven it was at the moment. And her touch, deliberate, or so he thought. “I think you are seducing me and I had such plans....”

Her tentative laugh was as soft as her skin. “Do you still think to carry them out?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he groaned.

A knock at the door jerked him out of his trance. “I will throttle whoever that is,” he muttered. Then he shouted, “Go
away!
”

She jumped at his sudden exclamation and stood apart from him as she glanced at the door.

Jack strode naked to the portal and turned the key in the lock with a loud snicking sound. He marched to the dressing room door and did the same, fully aware that she was following his every move with undivided interest.

When he turned back to her, she was covering her mouth with her hand, laughter in her eyes. Minx. He returned to her and grasped the hem of her shift, divesting her of it immediately. “There now.”

She covered herself with her arms and hands.

“You’ve seen me,” he challenged. “Fair’s fair.”

She ducked her head, then looked up at him. “I’ve not even seen myself but twice.”

“No mirrors in the convent? I can assure you, you are beautiful.”

She curled inward a little as she shook her head. “I mean without clothes. We even bathed in our shifts. Until my baths here and in London, I had not seen what I look like.”

“Like a goddess,” he said softly, trailing his fingertips down her neck to her shoulder. Slowly he took her arm covering her breasts and raised her wrist to his mouth, tasting her vulnerability. He reached for the other hand and gave it the same attention, moving back a step as he did and exposing the rest of her body.

“Venus,” he whispered as he raked her slowly with his gaze and then met her eyes again. They were half-closed as she tilted back her head, welcoming his attentions.

“Or a vixen in disguise.” He smiled as wickedly as he knew how.

“I’m not afraid,” she assured him. “Is this how it goes? No modesty between us? You teasing...”

“Bedplay. Anything is allowed,” he whispered, nipping the tip of her finger. He released her hand and caressed her shoulder, sliding his palm down to one breast. “Touch anywhere,” he said softly, explaining and inviting. “Kiss anywhere...” He leaned down to kiss the bud his fingers had found. He circled it with his tongue, loving the sound of pleasure that he drew from her. He raised his head. “Now, where were we?”

“Bedding, I think.” Her words rushed out in a gasp. Then she pressed one hand against his chest. “So should we be on the bed?” Her back was against it.

He grasped her by the waist and tossed her onto the mattress, coming down beside her and burying his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder. “So helpful. I might have skipped over that step.”

She tugged his hair, a playful gesture that brought his face to hers. He kissed her madly and without a thought to ease into it.

His hands moved with purpose, finding her breasts, squeezing her waist, sliding over her thighs and in between. How soft and sweet, so delicate. The fear was all his now, that he might hurt her, might disappoint her or destroy her future eagerness if not careful.

She writhed against him, encouraging every move he made, even when he stroked her intimately. Ready and willing, he noted absently as his brain fogged with urgency. “Now?” he rasped as he moved over her.

Her open invitation was all the answer he needed and the deed was suddenly done. He had buried himself inside her with no heed to her maidenhead.

For a second he paused. “Are you...all right?” he gasped.

She nodded. Her nails dug into his waist and her body was as tense as a bowline. “Is...is that all?”

“No, no, love. Just beginning. Relax,” he advised. “Let go.” Immediately her hands uncurled and left his sides.

“No, darling, not of me. I mean let yourself go. Just float for a moment. Is there pain?”

She shook her head. Her hands returned to stroke his back softly instead of leaving nail prints. “We fit,” she said on a shuddering sigh.

“Then be easy. Don’t think, just feel.” She went all soft beneath him and Jack struggled against his need to move. “There now. See?”

Her hips undulated slightly and he managed to hold still. Only just. When she moved again, he lost all thought. The primal urge proved too strong and swept away everything but the need to thrust.

Dimly he noted she did not fight. In fact, she began to engage just as he poured all that he was into her. Too soon, he thought, groaning when absolute ecstasy mixed with guilt. He had failed to bring her pleasure.

The thought of moving so much as a muscle seemed too great an effort, but he slowly disengaged and shifted to her side. Sleep tugged at him but he fought it. He slipped a hand over her hip, threaded his fingers through her nether curls and caressed her gently, rhythmically.

She responded with a small cry of surprise, then welcomed his touch. A moment later her body rose against his hand and she shuddered. He found the moment of her coming almost as pleasurable as his own.

“There now,” she murmured on a sigh, echoing his earlier words of assurance. She snuggled close, slid one arm over his chest, rested her head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Jack felt profound relief. Now the worst was over and the worst was the best ever. And he had called her timid? Shy? Intimidated? Finally he had unleashed the passion within her that he had known was there.

A sense of peace stole over him that he had rarely felt before, even after bedding other women. The plaguing devil within his body, the one that demanded perpetual activity nearly every waking moment, had retreated for the nonce. He drifted in a restful state, unwilling to surrender to sleep, because he feared the peace would dissipate before he woke.

Perhaps all his self-denial coming to a conclusion had provided a temporary surcease, a dulling of his nerves. All he knew was that he felt abnormally calm and quiet within. Even his thoughts seemed less chaotic.

Laurel was good for him—that much he did know. She must have lent him some of her stillness of soul that he had envied so.

But was he good for her? Jack wrestled with his conscience daily, hourly, knowing he should tell her and knowing he could lose her if he did.

The only way he could make up for his deception was to keep Laurel as happy and contented as he possibly could. She cared for him, and he could not bring himself to destroy that regard with the truth. Not yet, while their relationship was so new. There would be little hope of reviving it unless she knew him better and felt more deeply. Maybe if she did, she’d be more inclined to forgive.

* * *

The next morning Laurel woke alone in her bed. She reached out to find that the pillow next to her was cold. She was cold, too, and still naked, though at some point during the night Jack had moved them under the covers and held her close. He had slept with her.

No doubt he had returned to his room before light and was likely out surveying the estate already. Would he think of her today? Would he look forward to the night?

She hugged herself and snuggled deeper into the feather bed. Now she was a wife. The duty was not exactly what she had expected. It made good sense that there was great pleasure in it, or there would be no procreation. Certainly no fornication or adultery, for the penalties for both were too severe to risk unless the act itself was greatly rewarding. Even so, she had not realized how very rewarding it could be.

Would Jack be proud of her? She had shown not a whit of the timidity he hated. In fact, she had felt more curious than apprehensive when the time came. They had waited for so long, she had wanted it over and done so that she could stop worrying about how it would go.