Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

“ H e was that stubborn?” Bridget asked, holding back a laugh.

“Oh yes, and I daresay he still is.” Estelle tucked her hair behind an ear. “He stayed on that tree-limb for an entire day and half the night to prove to others that he could live in the wilderness if he had to.”

“And I did,” William remarked pridefully while striding into the room. He braced a hand on the back of his mother’s chair, dipped his head, and kissed her cheek. “Good to see you, Mother.”

The dowager scoffed. “Yes, you did sustain it, only because I turned a blind eye to Lane sneaking you hot drinks, muscadine ice, and biscuits.”

“So good to see you, Mother,” William said dryly before dropping a chaste kiss on Bridget’s lips. “Colin’s horse made us a fortune, sweetheart. We can go to Hatchards this evening, if you’d like.”

Her lips flickered. “I would much rather visit the Temple of the Muses.”

Pouring a hot cup of coffee, he agreed. “Done.”

“I must say, I feel deeply slighted about not getting an invitation to your wedding,” Estelle began.

“Don’t feel so bad. Uncle Ambrose was not invited either,” William shrugged. “I felt it wise to have a short and private affair for I did not want to subject my wife to more scrutiny than we have had already.”

“Unfortunately, even as far as I live, I managed to read enough in the papers, so you do not have to explain what you mean,” Estelle waved. “So many unfortunate, or should I say, odd encounters, did draw eyebrows, but I suppose it worked for the best. You are married after all.”

“Quite happily so,” William replied, sitting his cup down and without thinking, Bridget slid a coaster under it. “So, how long are you in town?”

Laughing, Estelle stood, “And that is my indication to leave. Don’t worry, son, you shan’t find me meddling in your affairs, but please know I am proud of you and how well you’ve pulled yourself up from…” She looked at Bridget “…certain situations.”

“She knows all my rough points, Mother,” William murmured, plucking his cup. “ All of them.”

The lady’s head snapped back, brows high. “That’s… wonderful. I am a big proponent of going into a marriage with no secrets being withheld from the other.”

William wrapped an arm around Bridget. “I hope you do the same for when you finally choose to marry Mr. Terrelonge. And as hypocritical as I am, we would like an invitation.”

The lady blushed. “You know about him?”

“I do,” William laughed while getting to his feet and Bridget followed. “I do wish you well though.”

The two embraced and the lady, to Bridget’s surprise, enveloped her too. “I am so glad I met you, darling. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Me too,” Bridget replied, then whispered, “I need more stories.”

Laughing, his delighted mother left the room and William sank to his seat, the grimace he had been holding back breaking through to mark his face.

Bridget noticed. “Are you all right?”

Instead of replying, he gingerly took his jacket off, undid his waistcoat one button at a time, then set it to the side, acutely aware of her growing concern.

He peeled the shirtsleeve away and heard her gasp at the thick bandage around his arm. Gingerly, she touched the spot where a dot of blood marked it. “What happened last night? W-were you accosted?”

“In a way, yes,” he murmured as he dropped back into his chair. “Knowing your brother had an ailment, I went looking for the apothecary where he treated it, and while gaining a good lead, the owner thought I had more to give than I had offered.”

Her fingers traced over his arm, pain and grief marring her visage. He could see she was torn. “I—” Bridget bit her lip, “—I wonder if I shouldn’t have asked you to find Frederick if it meant you’d be putting yourself in danger.”

“But you love your brother,” his head inclined in confusion. “If I were in your position, I would have asked the same.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and William’s heart wrenched. Her shoulders wilted as if she could no longer support herself and using his good arm, he wrapped her close onto his lap. “Don’t say it.”

“But—”

“Just because you love us both does not mean you should sacrifice one for the other,” he murmured in her ear. “A deal is a deal, Bridget, and I promised you I would do this for you. Don’t worry, I can handle myself out there.”

William held her tighter, willed her strength. “It’ll be alright,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll have him back soon.”

She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“It happens,” he tried to comfort her.

Without another word, he drew her face to his. It was so quick and unexpected that Bridget forgot to react. His mouth took hers, and his other hand touched her cheek in a caress, pulling back to shift the angle to deepen the kiss.

She groaned in protest when his lips abandoned hers to instead trail along her chin and then her neck.

With a shuddery breath, he kissed her again, devoured her with his mouth and, at the same time, memorized her with his hands. His attention to detail showed in each kiss and lick, and each touch of hers reciprocated sent sparks of desire shooting through him.

He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her.

Parting a touch, he nipped her earlobe, slid his good arm under her bottom, and lifted her off his lap. Instinctively, she held onto his shoulders as he carried her down the hall and up another story to her bedroom.

“William?”

He stopped cold and forced his logical thought through the haze of lust. “I—” He had no words.

“…Were you going to take me to bed?” she whispered.

“I was,” he swallowed, “But if you don’t—”

Her lips met his ear, “No, no, please, I’ve wanted this for a long time. Take me to bed, William.”

She did not think about their bargain. In fact, she did not think about anything except that being held and kissed by this man felt utterly right.

His taste was familiar and his embrace, full of relief and protection. He was a bastion of security and comfort. She welcomed his kiss and his touch without any reservations whatsoever.

She uttered not a word as he carried her over to the bed and then let her body slip so she could stand beside it. Sliding a finger in the knot of his cravat, he pulled it away and let the cloth drift to the ground as he found a chair and reclined.

With his thighs splayed showing sleekly bulging calves, and eyes heavy-lidded, he radiated male vitality.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered. “But do not rush.”

His soft command made her feel giddy and lightheaded; and her hands were moving to unlace her gown and let the shoulders slip from her arms. She kept her eyes on him as the muslin fabric glided over her bust and down to her waist. With a final push, it pooled at her feet.

The airy white fabric she was now only sheathed in glimmered with silver and was nearly as transparent as a moonbeam. The square bodice bared her plump, white breasts almost to the nipple. In fact, she was sure he could see her nipples, the faint outline of puckered buds visible under the gossamer breath of silk. Her breasts were aching to be touched, the tips almost hurting.

“Touch your nipples for me.” She was breathless, nevertheless, she obeyed.

Scandalized, she flicked her thumb, stroking the nipple, which grew sharp and sensitive almost at once, but when the pleasure spiked, she was soon pinching and teasing her hard buds. A sweet ache trembled low in her belly and the more she tantalized herself, her woman’s place between her legs grew mortifyingly wet.

“Enough,” his voice was rough. “Remove the rest.”

She loved this demanding, intense side of him— and loved even more that she had the power to bring it out. Following his instruction, she undid the silken material, letting it pool at her feet. She toed off her slippers and drew the pins from her hair, to let it fall in a silken curtain around her shoulder, but she was otherwise laid bare.

Naked and blushing, she held his gaze. He curled a finger at her. “Come closer.”

She took the two steps forward into the lee of his thighs. Her toes curled in the soft fibers of the bedside rug. “Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

When her fingers started working on the placket of his trousers, he found his voice. “You are so intuitive.”

Grasping him lightly, she stroked up the underside, feeling him swell even further in her hand and a droplet seeped from his head.

Bending forward, she licked proof of his desire from the stretched dome, swirling fire over his senses, before planting kisses along the thick shaft. Light, teasing kisses that made him burn for more.

“Minx.” He slid his hands into her as her head bobbed up and down, fallen strands of hair brushing against his thighs as she tasted him, pulling off before taking him deeply inside again.

His thumb traced over her brow. “Easy, sweet.”

Gently, he pulled her off him, then stood and disrobed, bracing an arm on the bedpost to pull his boots off. After removing his shoes too and being fully bare, he slowly climbed up onto the bed with her.

When he had crawled over on top of her, she could do nothing other than revel in his closeness and the moment his lips found hers again, she kissed him back enthusiastically. After he withdrew his mouth from hers, it was to nip and lick and kiss his way over her chin and down her neck to her collarbone.

He pressed his mouth to her pulse point, the vital throb leaping beneath his tongue. His mouth strayed to her breasts next, the pouting peaks begging for his attention, and the moment his hot mouth developed a tip, she gasped in pleasure.

“ William !”

“Enjoy it, sweetheart,” he whispered devilishly, his fingers teasing the taut bud of the other before suckling on that one as well.

He lingered there, licking and teasing her buds, and Bridget could not find it in herself to be ashamed—or concerned—about the wetness coating her core.

She speared her finger into his hair and shivered at the fine pinpricks of his light beard and the cool air that drifted onto her heated skin from the window. She felt beautiful and womanly with him, and the look in his eyes, when she did meet them, was primitive as it was playful.

Bridget felt utterly wanton. The sensations of this man, the heat of him over her, wanting her, loving her, rubbing and tantalizing her naked skin, persuaded her to let her legs fall open so that she could cradle his hips and thighs.

Oh God, I want him everywhere.

Dipping his fingers into the thicket of her curls, he spread her slick wetness upward, pleasuring her with her own desire—a moment before his tongue invaded her folds and slicked over her pearl repeatedly and his fingers pumped her with firm, upward thrusts.

Embarrassment be damned. This was too good to be tarnished by shame. She found herself writhing and thrusting in perfect accord with his ministrations.

She reached for something, so close, so close. Whimpering and panting, she could not help but give in to his ministrations. “William, please, I—I need—”

What did she need?

“I know what you crave, sweetheart,” he pressed his mouth to her belly. “Find those Letters for me.”

The sheaths would stop her from increasing with his child—she knew it; but felt—maybe foolishly—that she wanted to feel all of him. “William… I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

He rose to his elbows and looked at her searchingly. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” she replied, a twinge of nervousness trembling in her words.

Canting her hips, he sat back on his haunches and pulled her thighs over his, stroking her skin comfortingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he whispered before leaning in and pressing his member softly to her entrance.

Gently, he breached her virginal muscles, her throat tightening as he slowly slipped in deeper. Bridget forced herself to be calm as he made her body swell and stretch, but she kept his gaze. Sweat misted his brow and his muscles bulged with the effort to hold back.

“I want to be yours,” she whispered.

Feeling her resistance, he fixed his jaw, and with a snap of his hips, claimed her with a firm thrust, wanting to make her pain as fleeting as possible.

The intimate pinch made her wince, but soon enough, the pain faded and he bent his head and kissed her, moving his hips in shallow thrusts.

“Your snug heat is incredible,” he murmured raggedly, finding her hand and intertwining his fingers in between hers, “You are mine,” he affirmed huskily, the truth escaping his lips.

“I want to only be yours.” She trembled, the sheen in her eyes undoing his control.

Her breathy cries urged him on and each deep thrust had the tide of pleasure surging higher. Dipping his head, he captured her plump nipple between his lips, sucking fiercely as his pace increased and he pounded into her deeper.

Bridget could not get enough of the friction, the rough hair on his chest, the scrape of his calluses on her skin, and she ground herself against him.

By now, she was panting his name, her eyes dazed with ecstasy; endearments, hot words of lust and love came out of William's mouth, perhaps without logical consent and flutters started deep inside her belly, her channel spasming, the contractions milking his length.

“ Will —” She was coming around him, the pleasure almost too much to resist. She flew free in an explosive, mind-blanking climax.

With a ragged roar, he drove himself home, holding nothing back and he slammed into her again and again. The last vestiges of his control frayed with a snap, and he exploded with unending pleasure.