Wolfsgate (20 page)

Justine’s head rolled back onto the hard table, her breathing quickened. “You’re merciless.”

“I am,” he murmured against her throat. His cock stirred inside her, gliding in and out of her slowly, as his fingers teased her rear. It was a perverse sort of heaven. There could be no more thinking, none at all, only feeling him moving inside her, filling her, filling all of her.

“Look at me,” he said. Her eyes swirled in his. “Feel me inside you.”

“It’s too much, too much,” she murmured. She raised a hand to his cheek as if it were a white flag. He kissed her palm then bit it gently, and she let out a low gasp.

“I’m not letting you go. Hold onto me.” Brandon rocked deeper inside her. “You inspire me, Jus.” She surrendered.

He suddenly released her of the pressure of his fingers, and sharp pleasure tore through them both. A snarl curled his lips as he hissed in air. Justine’s body shuddered, her eyelids squeezing shut.

His hands gripped her wrists and fastened them to the table once again. She blinked up at him, trying to focus on his face. “Don’t ever talk to me about separating again,” Brandon said, his voice steady, sharp, like a commanding army officer. “This is where I want to be. With you. Inside you.” He nestled his cock deeper inside her. Her back arched against him, a cry escaping her lips, her body immobile under his firm grip. “This is all I know right now. And I like it.”

Her eyes widened, her breath burst in and out.

“Don’t ask me what I might want or what I might think I want,” he continued. “It’s very courteous of you really.” His voice was like acid in his own ear, sizzling with bone-melting clarity through the sensual fog. He dipped his face closer to hers and smelled the scent of lavender mixed with her sweat and the heady aroma of their desire rising from her throat. He inhaled that holy scent locking it in his memory.

“I do appreciate it, but my brain doesn’t function according to the niceties any longer. All I know is that right here and right now, it’s you and me and this damned house. We shall continue to live here together. We shall restore Wolfsgate, get me healthy, deal with my cousin and my uncle, and enjoy each other. Do you understand, Lady Graven?” His tongue flicked against her trembling lower lip. “Do you agree?”

She only nodded. Her neck slackened, and her head dropped back against the wood table once more. Brandon nipped the side of her face. He would hold off confronting her on her alleged virginity just yet. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to control his emotions if he heard the truth, whatever the hell it was. Bloody hell, he’d just taken her on the goddamn kitchen table. No, the virginity conversation could wait for now.

This felt too damned good at the moment.

He stretched out his hand to her.

“What do you think?” Brandon asked. “Do you like it?”

“I do. Very much.” She placed her hand in as she stepped up into the new curricle for their first ride to the village that afternoon. She settled into the seat next to him, and he signaled the horses with a flash of the reins. The two animals sprang forward pulling the carriage with them.

In the village, they were rewarded with surprised and appreciative looks from the many passersby. Justine squeezed her gloved hands in her lap tighter together. She sometimes walked to the village to visit Annie’s grave, peruse the shop windows or run a few errands like an ordinary, everyday person, going unnoticed except for a few friendly smiles and greetings to those with whom she was acquainted. But she certainly had not made such an entrance in a Graven carriage for a very long time.

Her gaze darted up at Brandon at the reins, sitting erect, his glossy black hair smoothed back with a tie. He was not paying any mind to the people, his somber focus remained on his horses and the road before him. A stream of wagons and carriages clattered over the cobbled streets, and the din of merchants’ cries advertising their wares or those selling cold and hot viands on the street corners filled Justine’s ears. A group of beggar boys pushed through the crowd and splashed in the mud and the many dirty puddles on the road. The bold, colorful signs which hung over each shop front competed with one another for attention.

“The village certainly is no quiet hamlet any longer, eh?” Brandon said, a smirk on his face.

They had an appointment with the tailor which Brandon had insisted upon immediately. Justine was thrilled by the prospect of new clothes at long last and felt the excitement of a child at Christmas bubble through her.

Once in the store, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson regaled them with the latest in fashionable materials and designs. Having already come to the house to take their measurements, the tailors needed Brandon and Justine to decide on the final details. “Arrange for anything you want and more,” he whispered in her ear, his cool fingers touched her throat and lingered there. “For if you don’t, I shall choose for you.”

She smiled at him as his thumb rubbed the side of her cheek sending tingles skittering across her skin. Brandon followed Mr. Thompson to the other end of the small shop which was crammed with bolts of fabric and ribbons dangling everywhere.

Aside from truly needing the clothes, Justine wanted to make Brandon proud of her. It was now no longer a dark secret that she was Lady Graven.

She ordered dresses for morning and daytime, for working about the house and the gardens, gowns for dinner parties and balls, outfits for riding, a new winter cloak. Deciding on new dressing gowns and nightdresses made her skin flush when Mrs. Thompson gushed over the fine imported silks and laces that had just arrived. The delicate fabrics flowed softly and coolly under the prickly heat of her hand. Her breath caught at the thought of Brandon’s fingers sliding over such ethereal material on her body.

“Yes, those will do nicely,” she murmured avoiding Mrs. Thompson’s pointed gaze.

Mrs. Thompson guided her as to which dimity, muslin, silk and wool fabrics were appropriate for each dress and outfit. Justine didn’t tarry too long over the endless bolts of fabric and didn’t allow Mrs. Thompson to continue fawning over her to choose the most expensive ones. Justine wanted to look elegant and sophisticated. She knew which colors flattered her, which didn’t, and made her choices quickly. She kindly requested that the more everyday pieces and at least one dinner dress be prepared for her as soon as possible. Mrs. Thompson’s face beamed as she took notes in her small book.

Brandon sat back in an armchair. His eyes, which seemed almost an opalescent green in the small, crowded shop, were pinned on her. His face was somber, his long legs crossed casually at the knee, his one hand gripped the cane at his side. Other than his fingers twirling his ring, his body was motionless. He reminded her of a wild animal, albeit an elegant one, calculating, assessing, ready to spring. The breath caught in her throat.

The Brandon of the past had always been full of movement and energy as a young man, unable to sit still. However, the current Lord Graven, with his almost ominous demeanor, epitomized a sort of forbidding, understated elegance. She tilted her head at him. Was he feeling out of sorts or restless? Perhaps he was just terribly bored, which would have been completely understandable under the circumstances.

Brandon’s one hand casually stroked the side of his thigh, and a faint smile curled the edges of his lips. A rush of heat engulfed Justine’s chest and glowed there. Her husband was a very handsome, very desirable man.

“Not to worry, my lady.” Mrs. Thompson’s thin voice deflated Justine’s reverie. “I have it all down. You have made very fine selections.”

Justine’s eyes remained on Brandon. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.”

Brandon suddenly rose from the chair, took her hand in his, and led her out of the shop. Justine turned in the direction of their carriage, but Brandon’s hand tugged her back. “I thought you might like to go to the confectioner’s and see what’s on offer. You think he still makes those fantastic chocolate drops we used to fight over?” His relaxed, throaty laughter made her grin.

“He does. And those sugar biscuits you were always so fond of as well.”

“Good. First, there is something else that needs addressing.” Brandon’s gaze darted across the road. “As we are here, I would like to resolve it.”

“Oh?” Her voice dropped. Her delight over the promise of sweet treats faded instantly. Was he taking her to the solicitor? The bank? He took her hand firmly in his, and they charged across the road. He opened the door to the jeweler’s and led her inside.

“Lord Graven, welcome sir!” Mr. Easton’s posture straightened and bowed his head. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I need a ring, Mr. Easton,” Brandon said. “For my wife.” Lightheadedness threatened her, and Justine pressed a hand onto the polished wood table before her.

“Yes, indeed, sir,” said Mr. Easton with a wide smile. “Congratulations to you both.” Justine leaned slightly on the counter and attempted to take in air, but her lungs did not seem to want to cooperate.

The jeweler presented them with satin-lined trays filled with sparkling gems, like a selection of the finest sweets. Brilliant stones of all colors and shapes set on bands of gold, some ornate, others simpler in design. Justine’s mouth went dry. She had never seen anything of the kind in all her life.

“Justine?” asked Brandon. “Which do you like?” He leaned close to her, his clean fragrance filled her nostrils and wrapped around her. Her eyes filled with water, her heart thudded inside her chest.

Brandon’s warm hand covered hers. “A gift from me.” His lips twitched. “We can’t have you borrowing someone else’s ring, can we? Bad luck, that. Want you wearing my ring.”

Her eyes stung, and she wrapped her fingers around his arm, unable to meet his gaze.

“Want you wearing my ring.”

“You choose,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please. I’d like you to choose it.”

Brandon glanced at her and gave her hand a slight squeeze. He scanned the trays of jewels and pointed to a gold band with an oblong emerald in its center surrounded by three smaller emeralds on each side of it. The green gems were set in a vine of delicate gold leaves which flourished between the stones. Brandon took the ring from Mr. Easton and put it on Justine’s finger. She held her breath as he eased it over her knuckle towards the base of her finger.

The jeweler bent his head over her hand. “Perfect.”

Justine’s head twisted on the pillow, her back arched, her hands clawed the bed linen.

“Justine?” Brandon took hold of her wrists, pressing her into the bed. “Justine you’re having another nightmare. It’s all right, I’m here.” His chest constricted at the sight of her struggling. “Jus?” His hand went to her chest and her erratic heartbeat made his eyes tighten.

Her eyelids peeled open and her bleary gaze flitted around the room before settling on his face.

“You’re safe, Jus,” he said, his tone soft. Her muscles relaxed one by one, and she settled back onto the mattress, her breath choppy. He rubbed over the base of her throat. “Robber pay you another visit?” he asked. His fingers wiped the damp hair from her face, and a hot stab pierced his chest. There was the lost little girl he remembered in those troubled brown eyes pleading with him.

His hand went under her head and rubbed the back of her neck. Her breathing began to slow down, and she licked at her dry lips. “You’re not alone at Wolfsgate, Jus. I’m here with you.” Her hand came up and wrapped around his neck for a moment then slid down his bare chest, her other hand clinging to his waist. A shiver traveled up his spine and discharged its keen energy all through his body.

“Shall I get you a drink?”

She didn’t speak, only her feet tangled in his, her smooth thighs brushing against his legs, pressing against them. Her moist eyes stayed on his in the glow of the dying fire, eyes filled with need.

He brushed his lips over her mouth then nuzzled her warm cheek. His hand swept down to her hip drawing her body closer to his. Her fingers pressed into the firm flesh of his rear, and his eyebrows lifted.

“What do you want, sweet thing?” he breathed over her, liquid heat coursing through his veins. “You want me to make it better, chase it away?”