Chapter 25

C larissa awoke to the smell of almond biscuits.

The fire was low but still burning, and the first faint glow of morning light was showing at the windows. The hunting cabin’s air was crisp against her face, but the rest of her felt wonderfully warm snuggled up with Rupert.

They would need to return to the house soon. The odds were high that their absence had already been noted, which would mean she was ruined.

She smiled against Rupert’s chest. The thought of losing her good name should not have been a happy one, but she wasn’t worried about it.

Not after what Rupert had said last night.

He still wanted to marry her! She hadn’t spoiled everything after all. She had somehow found this wonderful man who liked her just as she was, and she would get to go through life with him by her side.

She couldn’t wait to tell Lady Milthorpe that she had been right all along, that they were, indeed, perfect for one another. That, in spite of the universe… or at least, William Ellison… conspiring to keep them apart, they had managed to find each other and promptly fell in love.

It was enough to make you believe in fate.

Beside her, Rupert was stirring. She couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against the underside of his jaw. His stubble was both rough and smooth at the same time.

He made an appreciative rumble, his voice pitched low.

She trailed her lips toward his ear. “Wake up, Rupert.”

“Don’ wanna wake up,” he mumbled, burying his nose in her hair. “Havina good dream.”

Clarissa had a notion what his dream might be about. Whereas last night Rupert’s body had been alarmingly chilled, there was currently something torrid going on in the general vicinity of his groin.

In fact, she could feel it poking her in the stomach.

The realization made her feel lightheaded in a good way. She eased her shift up so she could wrap a leg around his hip.

This made Rupert purr like a lion, which only fanned the flames sparking to life between Clarissa’s legs. “What are you dreaming about?” she asked, her voice coming out breathless.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Claire, of course.”

“ Of course ,” she echoed, pleased by his answer. She began dropping teasing kisses across his jaw. “But I think you’ll find yourself just as happy when you wake up.”

“Oh, no,” he said, smiling with his eyes closed. “Nothing could be as good as this dre—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Clarissa kissed him full on the mouth. Rupert immediately kissed her back, his tongue twining with hers in a way that made her squirm against him.

She nipped at his bottom lip, and his eyes popped open. “Cl-Claire?” he said, sounding startled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize… I thought it was a—”

She cut him off with another kiss, and he groaned in her mouth.

When she finally broke the kiss, they were both panting. “Good morning, Rupert,” she said, tracing her hands down his back and squeezing his taut buttocks.

“Good morning, Claire,” he said, his voice rich and appreciative.

She nipped his lip again. “We need to get back to the house soon.” She brought her hands around to frame his hips, then circled her fingers there, teasing him with the prospect that she might bring them all the way to the front. “But I think we have time to do a few things before we do.”

Rupert brightened. “A repeat of what we did in the library? Believe me, I would be more than happy to oblige you.” He started kissing his way down her neck.

“Yes. And no.” At Rupert’s curious look, Clarissa added, “I want to do everything this time.”

It wasn’t possible, strictly speaking, to stumble when one was already lying down. Yet somehow, that seemed the most apt description for what Rupert’s body did. He collapsed face first into the sofa’s cushions.

He managed to push up on his forearms. “But Claire, if we do everything … I mean, people would say you’re…”

“Ruined?” At his nod, she continued, “I don’t think of it that way. Not at all. I’m eager to do this with you, Rupert. And I’m perfectly happy for us to have our first time right here.”

He really was adorable when he was confused. “Our first time? Do you mean—”

She cut him off with a kiss. “Unless you don’t want to?”

He laughed as if this was the most absurd thing she could have possibly said. “Oh, I want to, all right. I just… you’re sure? Completely sure?”

She kissed his chin. “Completely sure.”

His voice was rich as he said, “I’m going to make this so good for you.”

She smiled. He was already kissing his way across her collarbone. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.” At his curious look, she added, “You have quite the reputation.”

“Oh, that?” He ventured below her collarbone, dropping three more kisses. “Do you know why I think that is?”

“Why?” she asked, enjoying the way he was touching her all over her torso.

“You see,” he said, pausing to kiss the swell of one breast, “most fellows don’t take too kindly to being informed they’re not an expert at something. And that goes double when the something in question is their performance in the bedchamber.”

“Is that so?” she asked, shuddering as he flicked his tongue over her nipple through the fabric of her shift.

He lifted his head long enough to say, “It is,” before returning his attentions to her nipple, which had gone hard as a pebble. “Most men throw a fit at the mere suggestion that they’re not a veritable Cassanova. Not old Rupert, though,” he added as he shifted to the other side.

Clarissa’s eyes rolled back in her head as he sucked the opposite nipple into his mouth, using his tongue to rub the fine linen against her sensitive flesh. The only response she could manage was a weak, “Oh?”

“That’s right,” Rupert said, kissing his way down her stomach. “Whether a woman says, ‘Stop that, Rupert,’ or ‘That’s not even close to the right spot, Rupert,’ or even, ‘What on earth are you doing down there, Rupert?’ I respond with good humor. I say, ‘All right, then, what would you like?’ Then, I actually do it. That’s the difference between me and all those other fellows.”

“Really?” she gasped.

“Really.” He pushed her shift up, pressing a reverent kiss against the inside of her thigh. “You can’t imagine how much useful information I’ve received over the years.”

Clarissa had an inkling. Because if every other man was capable of making a woman’s thoughts flee and her thighs tremble like a raspberry jelly, surely they would spend every waking moment doing this , instead of darning their stockings and balancing the household budget and making sure their children didn’t wander off and get eaten by a wolf.

Rupert’s lips were wandering painfully closer to where she needed them to be, but somehow never reached that magical spot. Clarissa could hear herself making sounds that in any other circumstances she would have found humiliating. But she wasn’t capable of stopping, and besides, Rupert actually seemed to be enjoying them, if she was interpreting his encouraging grunts correctly. She, therefore, decided not to care.

Finally , his lips brushed that sensitive bud, far too gently. Clarissa cried out, and Rupert chuckled.

Men . She threaded her fingers into his hair to help him understand exactly what she wanted. He began circling his tongue around that magical spot, and she forgave him in an instant. He chuckled again, but then got serious about his business, giving her a succession of teasing flicks, quick light strokes, and finally a deep, rhythmic rubbing with the flat of his tongue that had her thrashing on the sofa without a single care as to how ridiculous she looked.

She would have bet everything she had that it was not possible for something to feel better than this, but she would have been wrong, for at that moment, Rupert sealed his lips around that perfect nub and started to suck .

“Rupert!” she gasped, sitting halfway up. “Rupert, I… Oh, my God , you’re going to make me… I… I… I’m going to—”

He glanced up at her, and she could see the smile in his eyes, but he did not pause the exquisite ministrations he was performing between her thighs. Then his face blurred as a blinding flash of white-hot pleasure washed over her. She could hear herself crying out, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, her hands fisting in Rupert’s golden hair. He didn’t seem to mind, for he kept pleasuring her through her storm until suddenly the beautiful sensations were too much and she cried, “You-you can stop now!”

Chuckling, he slid up the sofa and took her in his arms, pulling the blankets up to ward off the chill in the cold cabin.

As soon as the room stopped spinning, Clarissa peeled her shift up over her head and dropped it to the floor. Rupert made an appreciative sound.

She reached for the only article he still had on, the silver locket around his neck. “I don’t think we want Auntie Imogen watching for the next few minutes.” She placed it on the floor and covered it with her discarded shift. “We wouldn’t want to shock her with our uncouth behavior.”

Rupert laughed, but his expression quickly grew serious. “You’re sure about this, Claire?”

She attempted to pull him on top of her. “Completely sure.” After all, with the snow-covered ground, it might be a week or even more before they could make it to York to secure a bishop’s license. That would be the fastest means by which they could marry.

Clarissa didn’t want to wait a week. She was ready to start her forever with Rupert right away.

Rupert didn’t seem quite as eager, for all that his man-part was poking her in the stomach. Try as she might, she couldn’t manage to pull him on top of her.

“I know I am not as familiar with the general process as you are,” she said, grunting with her fruitless efforts to tug at his shoulders. “But I believe for this to work, you need to be over here.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “What’s your hurry?”

She glanced up at him, biting her lip. “Do you not want to do this?”

He gave an appreciative huff as he stroked a hand down her side. “Oh, I want to do this, all right.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Trust me,” he whispered.

He kissed her lazily, seeming to savor her sharp intake of breath, the way her lip quavered when he brushed his tongue across it, asking her to open, and the way she relaxed against him as he deepened the kiss. Rupert was patient, and Rupert was kind, and he kissed her as if he had all the time in the world. As if he had been the one to just receive a satisfying release and he now had no thought in his head beyond pleasing her.

His hands explored her body with equal nonchalance, delighting not just in the shape of her breasts or the treasure that lay between her thighs, but in the curve of her neck, the tender skin on the inside of her arm, and the full length of her spine.

By the time his warm hands found her breasts, her breath was coming fast again. She curled a leg around his hip, which had the effect of bringing the tender flesh between her legs into contact with the underside of his hardened cock. Whimpering, Clarissa couldn’t help but squirm against him.

“That’s it, Claire,” he said encouragingly, sounding slightly breathless himself. “Do what feels good.”

“Is it time to… to…”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Soon, I promise.”

Rupert’s definition of soon differed from Clarissa’s, for he continued kissing her as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It took her a few minutes to find the right angle, the right rhythm, but she figured out just how to rub herself against his thickness.

“Ah, Claire,” he gasped, burying his face in her shoulder. “You’re s-so good at this.” He gave a breathless laugh. “I’d best get you ready before I spill in the… I was going to say sheets, but I don’t guess there are any.”

“I’m ready,” she insisted, trying once again to pull him on top of her.

His voice was deep as he murmured, “Let’s just see, shall we?”

He reached between her legs, and she moaned because his thumb returned to that little spot where she loved to be rubbed. But this time, he also slid his middle finger inside her.

He made it about as far as his middle knuckle before she couldn’t help but stiffen. “Shh, it’s all right,” he said, pressing kisses against her neck. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

Just like that, he was back to his patient kisses and not-a-care-in-the-world caresses, but this time he accompanied them with little swirling strokes of his thumb upon her nubbin. It felt so good , and it almost came as a shock when Clarissa felt Rupert’s hand come into contact with her outer petals. While he had been working on her, he had managed to slide his finger in fully, and she hadn’t felt any pain, none at all.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice growing tight. “Let me add one more finger.”

She nodded against his throat, and he continued his gentle torture. The second finger took a little coaxing but went in far more easily than Clarissa would ever have guessed, and before she knew it, Rupert was withdrawing his hands.

Her throat seized. It was time, at last.

But instead of settling between her thighs, Rupert rolled onto his back. His engorged cock settled on his stomach, pointing up toward his chin. “Go on, then,” he said, patting his hip. “Climb aboard.”

Clarissa started. “You want me to… to…”

“If you’d like. I haven’t got any experience with deflowering virgins. But there are certain advantages to this position that I think will serve us well.”

“All right,” Clarissa said, suddenly feeling shy. She’d been naked with Rupert for the last half hour, but she hadn’t felt nearly as exposed when they were snuggled up together beneath the blankets as when she was sitting up straight, straddling him. But the warm admiration and naked longing in his eyes went a long way toward reassuring her.

She had a general idea how they fit together, and, taking his member in her hand, positioned him at her slick entrance. “Should I, er…”

“Do whatever feels good for you.” She started to slide down, and his eyes lolled back in his head. “God, Claire! You feel so good …”

She smiled. It felt… strange, having him inside of her. She felt stretched, just a little bit too full. She only managed to sink an inch or two down his length.

But Rupert didn’t complain. Instead, he brought his hand to the juncture of her thighs and resumed teasing that little spot that was the center of all things delightful.

“Mmm,” she moaned, tossing her head back. “That feels good.”

“My God, if you’re not the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” he said, swirling his fingers faster. “See if you can sink down another inch for me, Claire.”

She complied with a whimper. It was going well until it wasn’t. Without realizing it, she reached her barrier, which suddenly gave way with a sharp tear.

“Son of a cucumber !” she shouted, shuddering this time with pain rather than pleasure.

“Oh, sweet Claire,” Rupert said, stroking her hip. “I take it we just located your maidenhead.”

“That had better have been it,” she muttered.

“Stay there a moment, darling. Rupert will make it good again.”

He proceeded to do something extremely wicked with his thumb, which had Clarissa gasping in spite of the pain. Dear God, this man was good with his hands. Clarissa could not countenance the fact that some woman had not snapped him up already, but far be it for her to complain. Unlike whatever women had come before her, Clarissa Weatherby was no fool. She knew a good man when she saw one, and their loss was about to be her gain.

Rupert brought his fingertips together, gently grazing the tip of her bud then stroking down the sides. Clarissa groaned and began circling her hips. The pain was still there, but it was now more of a dull ache.

The ache for completion, on the other hand, was growing with every passing second. When Rupert put his thumb on that magical little spot and started shaking his wrist, the pain was all but forgotten.

She started to squirm, and Rupert gasped. Encouraged, she rose up a few inches and experimentally slid down.

Rupert made a strangled sound. “Cl-Claire! So guh… guh… guh…”

“Do you like that, Rupert?” she asked teasingly as she did it again.

“Ehrmagawd,” he gasped. “Heaven. This is heaven .”

Clarissa found she was enjoying driving him out of his mind just as much as what he was doing for her. It took her a few tries to figure out how to move, but she managed to settle into a rhythm that had Rupert’s head tossing against the cushions.

He seemed to remember himself after a minute and resumed his ministrations to that spot between her legs. Clarissa’s head lolled to the side. It did feel good, what he was doing, in spite of the slight soreness she still felt.

Rupert stiffened beneath her. “Claire,” he gasped. “Claire, I’m getting close. You should… pregnant. You could get pregnant if you… if we…”

Clarissa attempted to quicken her pace. “I’m not worried about that.” They were getting married, after all.

Rupert looked adorably confused. “You’re not?”

She leaned forward, dropping a kiss on his nose. “No.”

“Gosh, Claire—you really don’t mind if I… if I…” His body began to tremble beneath her. “Oh, God, I’m… I’m going to…”

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he grasped her hips, pumping into her with quick, desperate strokes. Clarissa welcomed this treatment and did her best to move with him.

His left hip bucked off the sofa. His fingers dug into her hips, and suddenly, he was shaking and babbling nonsense as his body shook and his head rolled back and forth against the cushions.

Just as abruptly, he collapsed, boneless, on the sofa. Taking her hands, he tugged her down on top of him. “Sorry,” he said, his breath coming fast. “Sorry. I’ll see to you in a minute. Just… need to hold you.”

Clarissa kissed his neck, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands tracing gentle patterns across her back in the cool room. She would enjoy the promised release, but she also loved how special it felt, and how intimate, lying here with Rupert after what they had just done.

After a few minutes, he stirred. Clarissa became cognizant of the fact that the area between her legs was wet in a way that was not merely slick but… squelchy.

Rupert urged her to sit up and withdrew from inside her. There was a little blood on his lower abdomen—her maidenhead, no doubt—but not too much.

He helped her to stand then fetched his handkerchief and gently cleaned her before seeing to himself. Dropping the soiled cloth on the flagstones before the fireplace, he abruptly scooped her up. Clarissa shrieked, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her two steps back to the sofa.

He set her down and kneeled between her spread thighs. “Rupert,” she gasped, “you don’t have to—”

“Oh, yes, I do,” he said, pressing a kiss against the inside of her thigh. “I want to see you quaking with pleasure. Touch your breasts for me, darling—there’s a good girl.”

He went to work flicking his tongue over that little bud between her folds. It felt so wicked, sitting here spread out before him, fingering her own nipples while he pleasured her between her legs. And Clarissa loved it.

As aroused as she was from what they’d been doing earlier, it only took a few minutes before the feeling of desperation swept over her. “Oh, Rupert!” she cried. “You’re going to make me come again!”

He made an encouraging sound and began massaging her with the flat of his tongue. It almost felt too good, and Clarissa’s thighs clamped around his ears. He glanced up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, threading her fingers into his hair. Her body had already adjusted to the intense pleasure he was giving her. “Please, don’t stop! I want to… Oh… Oh, my God, I… Rupert !”

She shattered right there on the sofa, spread out before him so he could watch her take her pleasure. He didn’t stop stroking her with his tongue, but she caught his eye and could discern the glean of masculine satisfaction that he had just pleased her so thoroughly and so well.

When she grew too sensitive, she pulled him up for a kiss. They cuddled there on the sofa for a few minutes, foreheads pressed together, but then Clarissa sighed. “I suppose we should be getting back to the castle.”

Rupert sighed. “You’re right, of course. I just wish we didn’t have to go. I wish we could stay here all day.”

Clarissa did, too. But that was all right. This wasn’t an ending, not really.

This was the first day of her future with Rupert, not her last.