Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed (20 page)

“A keepsake of our honeymoon,” he said as he pinned the brooch on her gown. “That way you’ll never forget this day.”

She smiled, eyes twinkling in a way that let him know she was pleased. Unable to resist, he kissed her again, delighting as he watched her cheeks turn pink.

Purchases in hand, he led her outside for their promised stroll along the harbor, then it was time for the carriage ride home.

Dinner that night was the complete opposite of the evening before, the meal one of relaxed conversation and frequent laughter. Rather than picking at her food, Mallory ate with enthusiasm, clearly enjoying the various courses that were laid before them. While they dined, he couldn’t keep himself from touching her, reaching over to cradle her hand or stroke a finger across her cheek.

Rather than remaining behind to indulge in the traditional after-dinner glass of port, he accompanied Mallory to the music room, where he spent an hour listening to her play the pianoforte. It was an experience he found both enthralling and frustrating—enthralling because she played so beautifully, frustrating because he couldn’t stop thinking about stripping her naked and taking her to bed. But rather than seducing her then and there, he let her go upstairs alone, forcing himself to wait a few minutes before doing the same.

Inside his bedchamber, he washed and shaved, then drew on his robe. Impatient, he went to the connecting door, gave a quick rap on the panel, then walked inside.

Attired in her nightclothes, Mallory sat at the dressing table, her maid behind her, brushing her hair.

“Good evening to you both. Penny, I’ll finish this, so why don’t you run along to bed.” He walked deeper into the room.

The servant paused, then set aside the brush and dipped a respectful curtsey. “As you wish, your lordship. Good night, my lady.”

“Good night,” Mallory said.

Moments later, he and Mallory were alone.

“She was nearly done,” Mallory said. “It wouldn’t have taken more than another minute or two.”

Strolling over to the dressing table, he picked up the brush. “I’m sure it would not, but now the pleasure is mine.”

Moving behind her, he stroked the soft boar’s-head bristles through her long tresses, smoothing his hand in its wake. Rich and luxuriant as the finest Chinese silk, her hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back in a thick, raven-dark curtain, shining with vitality.

In the mirror, he watched her eyes slide closed, a sensual glow of enjoyment rising on her skin with each slow, methodical stroke. Taking a heavy length of her hair in one hand, he brushed it all the way to the end, then released it. He did the same with another section, then the next, until each strand was smooth and tangle-free. After a last few sweeps of the brush, he set it on her dressing table.

Moving her hair to one side, he leaned down and buried his face against her neck. “You smell wonderful,” he said, breathing in the lush fragrance of her skin.

“It’s only soap.”

“No, it’s you,” he murmured as he nuzzled a particularly sensitive area behind her ear. “You’re sweet as honey and twice as delicious. I ought to know, having had the exquisite satisfaction of tasting you.”

A shudder rippled through her, a tiny moan issuing from between her lips.

Kissing his way along her throat, he slipped his hands around her body and drew her back against him. He held her for a long moment before covering her breasts with his palms.

Sighing, she arched into his grasp, a fresh moan rising on her lips as he began caressing her. Angling her head back another inch, he crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with a slow, intoxicating possession that left his blood buzzing and his body aching for more.

Much more.

Suddenly ravenous to touch her bare flesh, he slipped his hands beneath the lacy cups of her bodice and fondled her—skin to skin. Her nipples drew into tight little nubs that begged for his attention. Happy to comply, he played with them in ways that clearly drove her wild, her legs shifting restlessly beneath her nightgown, breath beginning to pant from her lungs.

He was no less immune, his shaft jutting hard against her back, throbbing to have her.

All of her.

Every last wonderful, satiny inch.

Straightening, he pulled her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, an expression of hazy confusion on her face.

“You won’t be needing these anymore,” he said, reaching for her garments. In a few quick tugs, he unclothed her, tossing the thin scraps of silk aside so that they fell to the floor in a filmy puddle.

Her natural modesty asserted itself, her palms coming up to shield herself from his gaze. But he refused to allow it, pulling her hands down and holding her arms out to her sides.

“There’s no need for that,” he told her. “No reason you should ever feel ashamed. You’re beautiful as a goddess, Mallory Gresham, and like a goddess, you should flaunt what nature has seen fit to bestow. Never try to hide your beauty away and most especially never try hiding it from me.”

“If I’m not careful, you’ll turn me into a complete wanton, my lord.”

“Well then, let’s make sure not to be careful.”

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down on the turned-back sheets, he stripped off his robe and joined her.

Kissing her with a greedy delight, he touched her everywhere he could reach, running his palms over each angle and curve as he roused her hunger higher and hotter.

Dizzy from a surfeit of pleasure, Mallory tried to keep pace, her senses overwhelmed from his touch. When he’d stripped off her clothes, she had felt shy. But with each caress he destroyed her inhibitions, with every kiss he made her burn for his possession. Kissing him wildly, she let him draw her deeper into the fire, into a place where nothing was forbidden, and the pursuit and attainment of pleasure was the only rule.

She wanted him to take her, needing him to claim her as fully as he could. Instead of letting her reach her peak as he had last night, he played with her, tormenting them both, as he drove her half-mad with unsatisfied desire.

Did he think she wasn’t ready again? Did he plan to enslave her to the point where she was forced to beg? Realizing she no longer cared, she did exactly that.

“Take me, Adam. Please, I want you.”

With a faint laugh, he rolled onto his back. “If you want me, then come and get me.”

She met his gaze, confused. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean there are other sexual postures than the one we used last night. Come over here,” he invited. “Let me give you a firsthand demonstration.”

Crawling to him, she laid her hands on his chest, still uncertain what he wanted her to do.

“Swing a leg over my hips,” he said. “It’s your turn to be on top tonight.”

On top!

For a moment she stared, first into his dark, sensual eyes, then lower, at the very visible expression of his desire thrusting hard and high above his stomach. As she watched, she thought she saw it twitch, his shaft obviously eager for her touch.

“You’ll have to help me,” she said, sliding forward to do as he asked.

“Gladly, my sweet.” Reaching out, he clasped her hips between his broad palms and settled her over him. “You start.”

But she didn’t know how. With his assistance, she found just the right angle, taking him inside her with several enthralling little pumps. By the time she paused, her heart was beating in a crazy rhythm, her pulse throbbing violently between her temples and lower as if it were connected to her very core.

But she hadn’t gone far enough, she realized. She needed him deeper.

“You do the rest,” she said, panting. “I can’t.”

Teeth clenched with clear longing, he took hold of her, then thrust upward in a powerful stroke, his movement seating him fully.

A gasp left her throat, her inner muscles clenching around him, but without so much as a hint of pain.

Quite the contrary.

She bit her lip against the near agony. “Oh, sweet heaven.”

He groaned. “I know just what you mean.”

Moving his pelvis again, he set up a rhythm, stroking in and out of her in a way that made her entire body burn hot enough to turn to ash. Mirroring his pace, she pumped against him in return, each sensation better than the last.

Pulling her down, he took her mouth, kissing her with an almost frenzied passion as both of them fought to reach their peak. Kissing him back, she gave herself completely to the moment, his touch so good she could barely think, every nerve ending inflamed, her mind and heart about to explode.

Then, without warning, the pleasure claimed her, shaking her with a fury. Crying aloud, she let the rapture take her, shivering as rivulets of bliss streaked outward to pool in her veins and deep, deep inside her bones.

Adam took his satisfaction as well, pouring himself inside her with a soothing warmth.

Limp, she fell forward across his chest, struggling for air.

How long she lay there, she didn’t know, everything floating around her in a lovely haze. Adam stroked her hair, his touch only adding to her pleasure.

At length, once she’d recovered sufficiently to move, she leaned up and looked into his eyes. “That was…amazing.”

He gave her a slow smile. “I was thinking fabulous.”

“That too,” she said, smiling back.

Tucking her head against his neck, she let herself float again, drawing invisible lines across his chest. As she did, she remembered something he’d said. Curious, she leaned up again. “You mentioned that there’s more than one position. So exactly how many are there?”

To her surprise, she felt his shaft stiffen inside her, her words apparently reawakening his desire.

“An infinite variety if one knows what one is doing,” he said in a rough voice. “Although I’ve never taken the time before to actually count.” Bumping their hips together, he drew a gasp from her. “Why don’t we give it a try? We’re at two now, so we’ve got a long way to go.”

Chapter 19

O
ver the month that followed, each day slid one into the next, Mallory content to let herself drift from moment to hour to day, taking each as it happened.

Thoughts of Michael came to her on occasion, but with less and less frequency as time moved on. At first, when she realized she wasn’t thinking about him, a stab of guilt would assail her, leaving her silently anguished. But then Adam would say or do something to divert her attention, his actions invariably punctuated by his physical attentions as well—a warm touch, a bold kiss, a devastating caress that drove everything else away. Before she knew it, Adam, and the pleasure he brought her, were the only things on her mind.

Later, when she came back to herself long enough to remember her earlier guilt over Michael, she would often find herself feeling guilty for a completely different reason. By thinking about Michael, was she somehow betraying Adam? Adam was her husband now, her lover, and more than ever before, her friend. Did she not owe her loyalty to him? But if that were true, then what about Michael? She couldn’t forget him completely since that too would be its own sort of betrayal.

Oh, it was all too confusingly troublesome, she decided, and so, as their honeymoon continued, she did her best not to dwell on such thoughts and emotions. Instead, she allowed the hours to slip past, content to let Adam guide her from one moment to the next, satisfied simply to be with him in this special place and time.

During the day, he kept her occupied with a variety of activities—drives and rides and strolls, visits to neighboring towns, serene churches and ancient ruins. Together they explored the natural beauty that Wales had to offer, marveling at its depth and variety. He even took her fishing one afternoon, persuading her to remove her shoes and stockings and pin up her dress to her knees so she could wade across to stand on a likely-looking rock.

Quite soon she discovered that the fish weren’t nibbling, but Adam was, as he led her back to shore so he could nuzzle her neck and a great deal more besides.

Pulling her down onto a blanket he’d earlier spread over the grass, he made love to her, showing her yet another new sexual position that left her both delighted and dazed.

When it came to carnal passions, he never failed to please her and please her often. They made love at least twice a day, in the morning and at night, and sometimes more. In fact, as their honeymoon went on, Adam’s appetite for her only seemed to increase, growing ever bolder and more inventive.

There was another afternoon she didn’t think she would ever forget when he’d slipped off his shoe at the nuncheon table and proceeded to rub her with his stocking foot and toes. She’d spent the entire meal in complete agony, having no notion of whether she ate or not. She’d been nearly frantic by the time he finally dismissed the footman. But rather than leading her upstairs to their bed, he locked the door and took her there in the dining room instead—first on the table, then again with her seated in his lap, his falls open and her skirts drawn up to her waist.

As she’d lain limp and replete against him, he’d murmured they were up to number thirty-six and promised he’d show her thirty-seven later that night. To her exhausted satisfaction, he more than kept his vow. Adding yet another variation, he left her amazed to find her bones still intact, since she’d thought they must surely have melted from the rapture.

But now the time had finally arrived to leave; their honeymoon was nearly over.

Watching Penny as she packed the last of Mallory’s clothes into her trunk, Mallory found herself wishing she and Adam could stay here indefinitely. Mayhap she ought to write Quentin and India and ask for more time? But even though Adam never said a word on the subject, she knew he needed to return to Gresham Park. He’d neglected his business concerns and the improvements being made to the estate for more than a month already.

Like it or not, she knew, it was time to return to the real world.

Concealing a sigh, she reached for her gloves and bonnet—an adorable green velvet yeoman’s hat finished in the front with a white ostrich feather that curved just above her eyes. It was one of the six chapeaux Adam had purchased for her from the millinery shop in the local village. To her delight, the hat made an excellent foil for her fawn traveling dress. Had she not known differently, she would have imagined they had been purchased with each other in mind.

“That’s the last of yer things, my lady,” Penny announced, shutting the case and buckling the leather straps. “Shall I send these down with the men?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Have ye seen Gresham Park afore, my lady?” Penny ventured, after she went to call the footmen to come collect the luggage. “I was wondering what it’s like.”

Mallory shook her head, recalling her earlier musings on that very subject. “I’ve never been there, but I’m sure it’s lovely.”

At least she hoped it was lovely.

Aware that Penny had never lived anywhere but Braebourne or Clybourne House in London, she decided it best not to repeat Adam’s “moldering pile of bricks” comment regarding the estate; better to arrive and deal with whatever they might find when they found it.

Then again, she trusted Adam. Whatever the condition of the house, she knew he would see to her comfort—and that of the servants as well.

With everything packed, Mallory cast one last glance around the room. As she did, a wealth of memories rushed upon her—most especially of the nights she’d spent here with Adam. She knew she would never forget a single one, not even if she lived to be a hundred. But there were a host of new memories waiting to be made at Gresham Park, she reminded herself, a lifetime of experiences yet to be had.

They would be good ones, she vowed.

Adam hadn’t planned to marry her, nor she him, but their marriage was going to work and work well. She would see to it. She would make him a good wife, better even than he expected. And she already knew he would make her a good husband—the very best, if their honeymoon was any indication. Which is why there was no need to be sad about leaving, not when years of satisfying married life lay ahead of her.

Years of happiness as well. For in that moment she realized that’s exactly what she’d been this past month.

Happy.

In ways she hadn’t been in such a very, very long time.

And who knew, she mused, perhaps she and Adam would come back here someday. Surely Quentin and India wouldn’t mind, not unless they planned to be in residence themselves, and even then the four of them could make a party of the visit.

Or not,
she amended with a rueful smile, as she remembered all the lovemaking postures she and Adam had tried out—and in more than just the bedrooms. Were they to return, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to meet her cousin’s gaze without blushing.

Flushing slightly now, she glanced down and adjusted one of her gloves, hoping Penny hadn’t noticed.

But her maid was too busy supervising the footmen, who were on their way out of the room with her baggage in hand. Deciding she had better not tarry any longer, Mallory turned and walked downstairs.

She discovered Adam in the front hall, conversing with his valet. Finley bowed moments after he saw her, then took his leave.

Smiling, Adam strolled forward, stretching out a hand to take her own. “All ready?”

After one final glance around the castle’s interior, she met Adam’s gaze and nodded. “Yes, my lord, let us go home.”

They drove by coach all that day, stopping at a hotel in Bristol for the night before continuing on early the next morning. Late-afternoon sun burned high and bright on the horizon by the time they arrived at Gresham Park the following day.

Mallory’s first sight of Adam’s Buckinghamshire estate was a pleasant one, great stretches of fertile green fields and small, tidy forests spread out everywhere she could see. On closer inspection, she caught sight of several wild, overgrown fields and stretches of fallow farmland; but as she knew, Adam was working hard to reclaim them. He’d told her he had hopes of improving the land and by doing so, bettering the lives of not only himself and his tenants, but the local community as well.

The house, she noted, as the coach drew to a halt at the front door, was indeed fashioned of brick, but the edifice was far from the ramshackle affair Adam had once dubbed it. A two-story Jacobean manor, the residence appeared neat and well maintained, the sprawling façade, with its mullioned windows and openwork parapets gleaming a mellow red in the clear afternoon light.

“It’s lovely, Adam,” she said on a sigh as he helped her from the coach, the finely crushed stone on the drive crunching beneath her shoes. He gave her an enigmatic look, then drew her arm through his, leaving the coachman to see to their belongings.

She expected a servant to open the door, but Adam did so himself before guiding her into a wide entrance hall paneled in heavy dark oak. The floors were also made of wood, their surfaces clean and neat but bare of carpets and scuffed from long, hard use. Other than a single vestibule table with a cracked marble top, the hall lay empty.

It was also still devoid of servants.

“Where is your butler?” she asked, drawing off her gloves. “Surely he ought to have greeted us by now?”

A curious expression that looked almost sheepish swept over Adam’s face. “I have no butler at present. Haven’t had the time yet to hire one.”

Mallory stared, momentarily taken aback by the idea of not having a butler or majordomo in residence. She’d been raised surrounded by dozens of staff; Braebourne had at least three hundred servants employed at any one time to take care of the many needs of the building and its residents.

“Ah, well,” she said, sending him a smile. “We shall have to rectify that shortly, do you not agree?”

He smiled back. “Most definitely. Now, why don’t I show you upstairs to your room.” Stretching an arm out behind her, he indicated the staircase made of more dark oak, the heavy square banisters beautifully carved with the shapes of apples, figs, birds and stags.

“I would enjoy freshening up,” she admitted, “but first, I’d like to see a bit more of the house.”

He frowned, then smiled again. “We’ve had a long trip. Let’s get you settled and in Penny’s capable hands. Plenty of time to tour the house once you’re rested.”

Had she not known Adam since she was a child, she might well have fallen in with his suggestion. But she knew his voice, knew his tones, and could tell there was something he didn’t want her to know.

Turning, she met his gaze. “I would rather see the house now, at least a small section of it. Your housekeeper can give me a complete tour tomorrow, I expect.”

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he glanced away for a brief moment. “I’m afraid there’s no housekeeper either. You’ll need to hire one with the butler.”

Scowling, she crossed her arms. “Exactly what staff are in your employ? Just so I’ll know who to put on my list.”

His jaw firmed. “Sufficient to keep the house maintained. In addition to the coachman and footman, we have a cook, a pair of housemaids, and a gardener. And of course, there are Finley and Penny now that you are in residence.”

Mallory paused to consider the small number of servants. Then again, she supposed Adam had been away a great deal of the time and had no need of a large staff. Shrugging, she smiled. “Actually, I expect it will work out brilliantly. This way I can start fresh and hire whomever I like.” She paused again. “Assuming you are giving me authority to hire new staff?”

His lips curved upward, his features relaxing. “Of course you have authority. You are mistress of the house, and the household is yours to manage however you see fit.”

“Good. Then let’s see a bit more of my domain.”

His smile faded again. “Mallory, I really think you ought to freshen up first. Let me show you to your bedchamber, and I’ll take you on a tour later.”

“Why?” she asked in a lowering tone. “What is there that you don’t want me to see?”

“Nothing.”

“Obviously there is
something,
so out with it, Adam Gresham.”

He gave her a mutinous look, then relented. “Fine. Go on then, if you insist. I believe seeing will be explanation enough.”

Suddenly anxious about what she might discover, she went to a nearby set of double doors, then paused. Maybe she ought to do as Adam suggested, she mused, and go upstairs to find Penny. But no, she told herself, she wanted to know what he was trying to delay her seeing.

After all, how dreadful could it be?

Laying a hand on the knob, she pushed open one of the doors.

The room was large and broad, illuminated by a bounty of natural light pouring in through windows that ranged the length of the outside wall. Fashioned from the same dark, elaborately carved wood used in the entry hall, the space spoke powerfully of a bygone century. Possessed of a bold, almost masculine quality, the main features of the room were composed of high ceilings, built-in cupboards and shelves, and a huge marble fireplace. At the far end of the room stood an open second-story gallery where people could observe the goings-on from above. Given the age of the house, she suspected the ladies of the family used to sit there, framed as if in a tableau by delicate carvings and ornate wooden arches.

Ordinarily, she would have found it a most pleasant room were it not for one thing.

It was empty.

And by that, she meant bare, pared down to the wood with only the architecture remaining. There wasn’t so much as a stick of furniture, not a rug or a book. The fireplace grate lay bare as well, without a bit of kindling for a fire. No curtains hung over the windows, the embrasures appearing stark and lonely.

Empty.

Whirling around, she turned to find Adam leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But where is everything?” she asked. “Why are there no furnishings?”

“Because there aren’t any,” he said, a sardonic expression on his face. “My father sold them off years ago.”