Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

L ionel was amazed at the newfound skill that Cecilia had displayed. The butter she used to moisten his skin was warm, allowing her fingers to slide over the muscle of his thigh smoothly. She kept working her fingers against his leg as he reached behind to begin unfastening the buttons of her dress.

As he did, she gazed into his eyes, kissing his lips softly and frequently. Each touch was a tantalizing butterfly, bringing a burst of pleasure and leaving him wanting more.

Craving more.

The dress loosened under his insistent fingers, slipping away from Cecilia's shoulders. Beneath it was another layer of fabric, another barrier to the alabaster smoothness of her skin. He ran one hand down her spine, fingers tracing a teasing path. With the other, he tugged the stiff material of the fabric down from one shoulder.

Suddenly, Cecilia pushed his chest, forcing him back into the plump pillows of the bed. He allowed himself to fall back and remained there as Cecilia mounted him, drawing up her skirts to allow her to straddle his legs, pinning them beneath her. She applied more butter to her fingers and began working one hand on each thigh. Fingertips, soft but surprisingly strong, kneaded the flesh, pressing hard. Pain that was almost indistinguishable from pleasure sparked in each thigh, but especially the left. Lionel let out a groan, reaching for her face. She batted away his hands, pushing and kneading his thighs, hands working up and then down.

She impatiently rolled her dress down to her hips, freeing her arms from it and then hauling her undergarments up from the waist. The tight waistband of the dress hampered her efforts momentarily but then gave up. The linen undergarments came off and went over Cecilia's head. She tossed them aside, shaking her head to allow her mane of fiery hair to cascade freely. It contrasted with her pale skin and the pink of her nipples in the middle of pert and proud breasts.

For a moment, she looked down on him, half naked and unashamedly so. There was a look of wanton lust in her eyes that drove Lionel's own passionate desire to a frenzy. He felt himself harden, pressing against Cecilia as she moved herself forward. Her loins lay atop his own, and when Lionel pushed his hips, he saw her eyes widen.

He reached for her, hands cupping her breasts, savoring the feel of smooth skin and perfect, curving flesh. Between his deft fingers, her nipples became erect, pushing out between the grip that was making Cecilia gasp. She squirmed atop him, making Lionel moan in turn.

Cecilia grinned, shaking her magnificent red hair so that it fell across her face. Lionel found himself moving in concert with her. Their bodies were not yet joined but in delicious contact. He found himself yearning for that contact that would join them together but at the same time wanting to delay that moment, stretching out the anticipation as long as they both could endure it.

With one hand, he reached blindly for the tray of butter, scooping a handful, and then slathering it across Cecilia's breasts. She squealed and Lionel sat up, effortlessly resisting her attempts to push him back.

He had allowed her to hold him down before but now demonstrated how powerless she was compared to his strength. Bending his head to her bosom, he began to lap up the warm, liquid butter that was trickling between and around her breasts. Cecilia put her head back and closed her eyes, moaning and wrapping her arms about her husband's head.

He brought one of her breasts to his mouth, sucking it clean. Then, seizing her about the waist, he flipped her to the bed, rolling atop her with only the smallest twinge of pain from his leg. A trickle of golden, melted butter had worked its way to her navel and now Lionel intercepted it, running his tongue up her stomach to the hollow between her breasts. She ran her hands from her beautiful swan-like neck, down and over her nipples to her stomach. As she did she smeared the melted butter over her skin, giving it a sheen in the light from the fire.

Lionel kissed her lips with fevered passion, tasting the saltiness of butter there, feeling it greasing their skin as their bodies came together. Cecilia lifted her legs as Lionel's body moved up and slipped in. The moment had been prolonged and now neither could delay it further.

Cecilia gasped, crying out as they came together. At first, it was slow and controlled, each thrust of Lionel's hips joining their bodies deeper. Then passion overcame them both. Cecilia writhed and clawed at Lionel's body, demanding more and craving release at the same time. Whenever Lionel looked down at the pale, shining skin of his wife, at the sight of her writhing pleasure, he could barely restrain himself. He craved her like a man dying of thirst craved a drop of water. His body demanded hers, sought her touch, her taste. The sight of her ecstasy was the single most perfect vision he had ever seen. No master artist could compose such an image to better communicate their fiery desire.

Finally came the moment of release, when neither could hold back any longer. It was shattering and glorious, leaving Lionel gasping and speechless as he lay atop Cecilia. She was unmoving, head buried in his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped tightly about him. They unwound themselves slowly, muscles becoming liquid. Lionel looked into Cecilia's eyes, beginning to move to the side. But she held on tighter, reaching to press her hands to his firm buttocks.

"Not yet," she whispered, "I want to feel you a little longer."

Her face was flushed and her eyes, bright. Lionel brushed sweat-darkened hair from her forehead and remained where he was, savoring the feel of her body around his.

"I think you have given me a child," she whispered.

Lionel's eyes widened at that. "You can tell?"

"Not according to medicine," Cecilia giggled, "but I feel it. It is different this time. There is a…" she seemed to flounder, searching for the words, "…a sanctity. A feeling that there is more than just the fulfillment of carnal pleasure at work. As though we have just done something far greater. I am probably being silly."

Lionel considered his feelings for a moment. Had she said this after their first time making love, he would have believed it a clumsy attempt to trap him. Now, things were different. He was slowly beginning to accept his feelings for Cecilia, his desire for her, and his desire to be with her. It was more than just lust. He wanted to be her friend as well as her lover. Wanted her to be his confidante and he, hers. The idea of her becoming the mother of his child was beyond even his wildest imaginings. The revenge against Thorpe left little room in his heart. What room there was had been commandeered by Cecilia. Except he found there was yet more room than he had thought.

"Is it… is it wrong that I sincerely hope that you are right," he breathed.

"You do?" Cecilia whispered in confusion, running gentle fingers down his face. "You have never mentioned it to me."

"I have never mentioned it to myself."

"But… but what about the separation?" she asked, brows furrowing.

"I am no longer certain. I never considered an heir. My mind was too full of other things," Lionel admitted, "but presently, in this moment, I feel that I desire you to be the mother of my children more than life itself."

"Children?" Cecilia laughed, "I spoke of a child."

"And I would have you be the mother to many. This house needs the sound of laughter and joy."

"I think we have taken our first steps in that direction. My body tingles with the magic within me," Cecilia smiled.

In that moment, with a sheen of sweat and glowing skin, eyes alight with feminine mystery, Cecilia looked like a pagan goddess. A sorceress of ancient times, attuned to nature. Fey and powerful. Lionel was in awe of her beauty, of the aura in which she clothed herself. In awe and in love. The feeling had stolen over him without his being consciously aware. Acceptance of her as his wife had been the product of his rational mind. The love that he was now aware of was from somewhere deeper. More primal. He knew in that moment that he would kill or die for her. That if she wished it he would renounce his title and his lands, forsake his name and his legacy.

"I… I think I…" he whispered, but trailed off, a pit growing in his chest at the dangerous realization. Dangerous, for he was stepping into the very same trap he had sworn to never let ensnare his heart again. But the words came out of their own volition. "I think I am falling in love with you, Cecilia Grisham."

Tears filled her eyes and she stroked his face, reaching up to kiss his lips tenderly. In those proceedings seconds, all his fears were vanquished like the final echoes of a fading storm.

"And I love you, my heart. I think I always have. From the first moment I saw you in the Great Hall."

"I was blind that day. A foolish man," Lionel muttered.

He made to move to the side once more but she held on fiercely.

"I like feeling you there," she whispered with passion, "inside me. I would lay like this all night if I could."

To Lionel's amazement, his body was responding, though he had doubted it would for hours. Not until sleep had restored strength to him. But the proximity of her alluring body and her demanding eyes, her touch and the feel of her moist smoothness holding his manhood was stoking a fire deep within him. She felt it and smiled in such a devilish way that Lionel's ardor roared to the forth. His body tightened and stiffened and her smile became a gasp just as her eyes closed, only the whites showing, as though she had been driven into a trance.

Their lovemaking was drawn out and languid this time. The towering strength of their earlier passion had been replaced by an intense heat that smoldered rather than burned. Lionel withdrew from Cecilia, her whimpering moan echoing through the room at the emptiness, before pressing himself back against her slick, heated core. His hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements as she rocked against him, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The friction between them built slowly, each stroke desperate and deliberate.

They came together and then drew apart, taking the time now to explore each other's bodies. Lionel's deep moans caught in his throat as his callused hands roved Cecilia's delicate frame, tracing the soft curves of her waist and the swell of her hips. Her skin was warm and inviting beneath his fingertips. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his lips trailing down to her breasts, taking one taut nipple into his mouth and sucking until a gasp escaped her lips. The fire burned low in the grate as their passion once more built to a fever pitch.

Cecilia's soft moans filled the room as Lionel's hands traveled up her legs, gripping her hips more firmly. "Please, I need you inside me," she whimpered, desperation lacing her voice. "Fill me completely."

He guided himself back inside her, her lungs escaping for air as he filled her. Her thighs pressed against his sides with each thrust. "You are a deity," he groaned with pleasure.

"Deeper," she demanded, her voice trembling with need. "I want all of you."

Lionel began to thrust, steadily at first, then faster, harder, driven by the intense depravity of her words. His hand moved between their bodies, fingers finding her sensitive pearl, rubbing her womanhood in rhythm with his thrusts. She arched her back, her breasts brushing against his chest, her nipples hard against his skin. Her hips buckled at the pleasure, her cries of ecstasy growing louder. His mouth found hers, their tongues tangling together in a heated kiss.

"Yes, right there," she panted against his lips. "Don't stop."

They gasped for air as he thrust up into her, matching her rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure through their bodies. "I… I need to feel your release," he growled, his voice thick with desire. In one smooth motion, he wrapped a strong arm around her and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

She straddled him this time, her hips working back and forth in a steady, insistent rhythm. She pressed down on his muscular torso, lifting herself only to push back down onto his length. "You're so deep," she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He drove deep into her, each thrust more urgent than the last, their bodies slapping together. His fingers returned to her womanhood, rubbing her as he thrust, eliciting louder cries from her.

"Please. Make me yours… Only yours," she pleaded, her eyes locking with his, a mix of passion and need urging him on. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them entwined in their shared desire.

Their bodies moved together in a desperate rhythm, sweat glistening on their skin. Lionel's grip on her hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Her head fell back as she rode him harder, faster. The pressure built between them, a tight coil ready to snap. She felt the heat rising, her body trembling on the edge. "I… I feel something," she gasped, her nails dragging down his chest.

"With me," he urged, his voice a low growl.

With a final, deep thrust, Lionel pushed her over the brink. Cecilia cried out, her body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He followed moments later, his own release shuddering through him, filling her with his warmth.

After their explosive climax, Cecilia collapsed atop him, their bodies still connected. Lionel's arms encircled her, holding her close as they both caught their breath. Before he had gently rolled her to her side and pulled the bedclothes about her, she was asleep. He pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead before placing his body beside her, one arm about her, his body molded to the lines of hers. Then oblivion swept over him.

Lionel awoke to the scent of coffee and toast. His eyes flickered open. Cecilia sat in a window seat across the room. She was utterly, gloriously naked with both legs drawn up and arms wrapped about her knees. Sunlight streamed around her, giving her an aura that made her seem every inch the goddess. A tray sat on the bedside table bearing a pot of coffee and a plate of toast.

"You didn't allow the servants to bring this in, did you?" Lionel suddenly asked, aghast at the thought of any of the staff seeing the two of them naked beneath the bedclothes.

"I had Peggy fetch it to the outer room and brought it in myself," Cecilia smiled, "I was famished."

Lionel's stomach growled in agreement and he sat up, taking a piece of toast and pouring himself a cup of black, steaming coffee. The aroma filled the room, earthy with a hint of bitterness.

"An excellent notion," he chuckled.

"I do not think that any of the servants would be scandalized though," Cecilia shrugged, "we are married, after all."

"Yes, we are," Lionel agreed, "I do not know why I was momentarily so horrified. Perhaps I simply cannot fathom the thought of sharing the deity I get to wake up to each day."

Cecilia grinned adorably. "Do you think they are aware of how we came to be married?"

"Blackwood certainly is. The others will probably have worked out there was something amiss. It is not in my character to submit to a whirlwind romance. I am sure they have talked among themselves about what made me make the decision."

"Well, I will be happy to set them straight. I will make sure that Peggy knows that you have my heart in your keeping."

"And you have mine," Lionel replied, getting out of bed, and walking across the room to Cecilia.

The window was high enough amid the forest of rooftops that none from outside would be able to see the nudity of the Duke and Duchess, but it still felt reckless to be naked in full view of the morning sky. He bent to kiss Cecilia, plucking a piece of toast from her mouth to do it, then popping it back between her teeth when he was done. She giggled, munching on the bread. He lifted her feet and sat in the window seat, laying them back down across his thighs, running his hand up her legs and over her knees.

"The thought occurs though that there will be others in our society that are entertaining similar thoughts," Lionel murmured. "It does not sit well with me."

"I do not care what they think," Cecilia replied.

"I do. I will not have you thought ill of."

"But how can you stop gossip and rumor?" she asked.

"By showing off our relationship. By showing ourselves off. Let them see how happy we are together," he continued, "what do you imagine the Sinclairs are saying at their luncheons and dinners when asked about their niece the Duchess? I will not have them write the history of our marriage. It is time we took our rightful place in society with our heads held high. Side by side."

Cecilia sat up suddenly.

"What is it?" he asked.

Falling lightly to her toes, she made for the sheets of paper Lionel had stowed away at his bedside table and a couple of pens. All the while, his bewildered gaze followed her about the room in confusion. Finally, she returned to the window seat and took her place once more, before replying, "Then we ought to make a schedule!"