Darkest Death, page 20
part #2 of Darkest Series
“I love you, Sarah. I’m so glad you’ll be my sister.”
“Me, too.”
“And I am glad we are so close. I don’t think real sisters are as close as we are,” Lillian said. “The two of you made such a big difference to me. Thank you so much.”
“And you have been a dear friend as well. Come, ladies. Time for me to be married.”
She waited until they were gone, then breaking with tradition, walked up the aisle on her own, eyes on her husband.
The symphony played one of her favorite songs, one which she’d listened to at a concert with her mother. After she made it to the front, most of the service was a blur. Except the vows—his voice promising to love and cherish her and protect her would never be forgotten—and saying I do. So different than the farce perpetrated on her by Lord Downing.
Her smile radiated from her so strongly, her cheeks started to hurt. Happiness and joy like wisps of a breeze which refused to go away. Finally, the minister said he could kiss her. He lifted her veil, his eyes intense and loving. His hand came to her jaw, and he drew her in closer. Anticipation swelled up with the happiness as she put her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” he whispered just before taking her mouth in a firm, longer than necessary kiss. By the time he parted, she wanted to skip the food, skip the talking, and go straight to yet another adventure. Him.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
The walked hand in hand down the aisle and to the waiting carriage, which would take them to Hampsteads where they’d planned a gala for everyone. In the greeting line, she’d laughed and smiled and deflected questions regarding the announcement made in the times about her marriage to Lord Downing.
Her barrister and another were still working out the legality of her marriage. Lord Archer’s family was trying to keep the incident around Hermione quiet in the wake of the scandal. The clergyman who’d taken money to do false weddings was defrocked by the Church of England and was facing a slew of charges, which she had only paid the smallest attention to. After her wedding, they would be devoting every free moment to Hermione’s plight.
She saw Hermione hold her stomach for a moment and turn bashfully away from a man speaking to her. He reached out and touched her shoulder, and she blushed more as she stared up into his face. Well. That was both wonderful and complicated.
She turned back to the next guest. Hours later, she let out a big sigh as they sat in the carriage on the way back to her townhouse. “Shouldn’t we stop at your place first,” she asked him.
“No. I had my servants take my things while we were at the reception.”
“Oh,” she replied almost giddy. “Then…we get to go straight to my home.” Inane conversation, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him. How much she wanted his hands on her in every way. The wedding kiss and dances like a tease, they’d whet her appetite for something more. Something she could barely even imagine. Anticipation and nerves from the whole day had her wound up. When he didn’t reply, she met his gaze and gulped.
He stared down at her as if he’d devour her in a heartbeat, as if she’d been served up for his dinner, and he planned to eat every morsel.
Every nerve ending suddenly came alive. She wanted him to do to her whatever it was causing that look. “Oh my,” she said huskily. That was the last thing she said for a while.
He took her head with both his hands and ravished her mouth with his kisses. The flashes of lust and heat which had accompanied her softer love for him now caught on fire like the fires of London. Everything was too hot. Her clothes constricting. His tongue swept through her mouth, sending new sensations flying to her nether regions as if on their own private train, and Archie played the conductor. Only one hand held her head now as the other one made tracks to her breasts. As beautiful as her dress was, she wanted to tear it off so she could feel his hands on her bare skin. He suddenly pulled her up on his lap, his erection pressing into her through the folds of the gown. An odd wetness gathered between her legs. She’d noticed it before when he’d kiss her, but this…this had her squirming, wondering if it was normal.
As if sensing her discomfort, he stopped kissing her and just held her close. “What is it,” he murmured.
“I… There is a lot of wetness between my legs, and I am…” Embarrassed? Interested? Curious? “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she finally settled on.
He groaned and matched his forehead to hers. His breathing became more labored even though he held her hips still against him. “Do you like the feelings generating the wetness,” he asked, his voice thick as if struggling to speak.
“Quite. I want more, but I am afraid I’m broken.”
He finally opened his eyes and looked into hers. “No, my sweet Sarah. You are not broken. You are wonderfully responsive. That is your body’s way of preparing itself for me, for our joining together as husband and wife.”
“Oh.” She thought about that for a second, about what she knew about mating. It made sense. “Well, then, going by that, I would say I am quite prepared, if you’d like to continue.”
He gasped and then laughed. “Dearest Sarah, I would like nothing better, but we need to wait until we are in the privacy of your room. I fear that I would embarrass myself otherwise.”
“How?”
A short loud noise left him before he stopped it. “I will explain later, after we’ve made love. For now, please, sit here and let me hold you.”
Reluctant to stop, but willing to do as he said, she complied. He stroked her back and hips while they traveled, so by the time she reached the townhouse, her breathing had decided it would be doing its own thing, thank you very much, and her body had become heated through.
As soon as the carriage had come to a stop, he stepped out and held his arms for her. She leaped into them, him catching her easily and swinging her around then letting her slide down the length of him. And that fast, the raging fires of London had returned inside her body.
He suddenly picked her up under her knees, the length of her gown’s train falling off to the side as he walked. Part of her wanted to tell him to put her down, what if he fell or the dress got ruined, but that part was loudly drowned out by the rest of her thrilling in his strength and in being near him, at having him claim her for all to see, not giving one whit to whom might see that he cared for her.
In all her dreams, he’d done something heroic to prove his love for her, to show the world she was the one for him. He’d already done that coming to save her from Lord Downing.
This was special. And anytime he gazed down at her, his eyes held love and lust and tenderness…and her world, which had been tainted since her parents, suddenly seemed whole again. She’d still miss them, but she had him now. Had someone who would be there loving her. By the time they made it to her room, the combination of tenderness and lust had her wanting everything now.
She anxiously tried to start undoing all the little pearl buttons in the back, but could only reach the one at the top before he gently pushed her hands to the side, whispering, “Let me.”
Each button became a new torture. He’d slide his fingers down her skin from the top. By the time he reached the top of her corset, she’d shiver as he caressed her. At the corset, he started unbuttoning her faster, as if he’d tortured himself as well as her. The dress fell in a fluff of white and beads. He took her hand and helped her step out and away from hit. Now she stood in her corset, stockings, and ice blue kid skin boots.
The heat in his eyes flared, as if the fire burning in her had scorched him as well. Her corset was white with ice blue lace and roses intertwined with bits of silver.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a rough voice. “I could stare at you forever like this, but I want to touch you too badly to wait any longer.” He turned her and swiftly undid her ties and laces, pulling it off her. Then he undid her clasp on her stockings, rolling one down at a time to the top of her shoes, his hands touching and skimming her legs. Her knees weakened, threatening to buckle, so she grabbed the poster on her bed to hold her up.
When both stockings sat rolled atop her boot line, he pushed her back onto the bed and unlaced her shoes and took them and the stockings off. Once finished, he held up her leg and began to kiss her inner ankle and up her leg. Her mind rebelled at him doing that, but her body turned to liquid heat.
He stood back and began undoing his jacket. “Move up to the head of the bed,” he told her.
She tried, but it took her a little longer than it should have because she couldn’t take her eyes off his hands as they undressed him. It was like watching her favorite Christmas present unwrap itself.
The candlelight added a warmth to his skin tones, as if the sun set on him. He moved to the side and joined her on the bed, his hands gently touching her skin like whispers of silk draping across. “Please, more,” she begged.
He pushed harder, wrapping her breasts with his large hands, then stroked the hardened peaks of her nipples. She cried out in surprised pleasure, and he stopped. “Are you okay?”
“God, yes,” she answered.
He gave a low laugh and went back to her breasts. Something deep in her core began to tighten and tighten. Her legs had wetness again. She squirmed back and forth, searching for something. Then he changed positions, and before she could ask why, his mouth came down on her nipple and sucked.
Her whole body arched, and her lips parted as she wanted to scream but had no air left. Then his hand found her thighs and circled up, parting her lady parts. His finger slipped between and began a circular motion on a part of her she’d held no interest in before now.
It sent the tightening in her core all the way through her body. She was strung as tight as a bow on a violin, and he was the maestro. He kept playing her tune, each movement building and building her pleasure. Pulses of light started behind her eyes and then suddenly, she screamed.
Her whole body tightened then bucked against his hands while he sucked harder at her breast. Her hands grabbed his head, holding him there even as the pleasure zinged through her. Over and over, her body convulsed until it stopped in a languid pool of bliss.
“That’s…that’s what I’m supposed to do as my wifely duty? Why do people talk about it as if it is a hard thing?”
His choking laugh had her looking at him. “Not quite. I wanted to be sure you had your pleasure first. The first time between a man and a woman can hurt, but I can make it so that it feels good by the end. I wanted you to see where the pleasure was headed, to help you trust and hold onto it until the pain recedes.” His words came out hoarse.
Against her leg, she felt his hardness and then was remembering… Right. He hadn’t penetrated her, so they weren’t done. No wonder no one talked about the other stuff. Feelings that good, and women would throw themselves at the first good looking man to come their way.
He started kissing his way down her neck and licked the peak of her other, neglected nipple, and her breath sucked in. She wanted more. To have that sensation again. She’d put up with a little pain to make it to that point again.
Eagerly, she held his head to her breast again, her hands exploring his broad shoulders. She moaned as he took a little nip, her body already begging for another release.
“Please, Archie, show me more.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Lord Archer
Her breasts peaked, pushing up as if begging for more, and then her words echoed the feeling. He could hardly believe the time had finally come. Everything had kept getting in their way. They’d almost had to postpone the wedding after the death of Lord Downing. But the inquest had sided with her. And now, his beautiful, brave Sarah lay beneath him, imploring him to give her more.
After all the turmoil, this moment came as more precious than ever. He took his time worshipping at her breasts, both sides until her moans echoed in the room. Then he applied pressure to her clit again, and little pants came from her, driving him crazy. He slipped his finger into her most private space, honored she even let him in.
He shifted his weight to one side on his elbow so he could watch her while he stroked her in and out, needing to prepare her for him. His cock hurt in desperation to be in her, but he’d be damned if he’d hurt her more than necessary. He carefully added a second finger, and a lower groan than any she’d uttered left her in a rush. Slowly, he moved in and out of her slick passage. Her legs dropped open, giving him even better access, and he took that as his cue to increase the pace.
His whole body ached in need and want now, and watching her in the glow of the candle intensified every movement. Her breasts moved back and forth, tempting him until he bent his head again and sucked in a nipple at the same time he moved in and out at a rapid pace.
Her hips bucked into him, meeting his hands as if she, too, wanted more, wanted what he so desperately craved. When she came again, her juices covering his hand, he settled over her. Taking her mouth with his, he entered her slowly, moving in and out, deeper with each stroke. Then he felt a little more resistance than before, pulled out and as he pushed in again, he sucked in her tongue, capturing her gasp.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in. His cock pulsed, hurting with the pressure of release, but he held on, enjoying the feeling of finally having her underneath him. He kept kissing her, gentler now, making little pumping actions until he felt her legs and hips relax under him again. He lifted one hand and fondled her breast, relieved to find it still peaked and sensitive.
Once she started responding again, he did an experimental full movement in and out, a groan leaving his lips against hers. “Please, please tell me you’re ready for more,” he said, the tension thickening his tongue as he desperately held back.
Her eyes flew open. “There’s more?” The excitement in her voice had him doing a small laugh, which ended on a groan as she pushed her hips up, sinking him into her deeper.
“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Show me,” she whispered.
He tried to say he would, that he’d love to, but nothing came out. His emotions filled him too far for words at her giving nature. Staring down into her eyes, he found the rhythm which brought her the most pleasure, the one which had her panting and gasping his name, clutching on his shoulders again.
He kissed her again, wanting to be touching her everywhere. Her breasts skimmed his chest as he made love to her. His balls tightened up, and the desperate need encased his whole being.
But he needed her with him. “Please, Sarah. Please…come with me.”
As if his words released the damn, her walls tightened down on him. One last thrust into her warm depths, and she screamed her release as he lost control and came with her.
He pulled her to him and cuddled in, and something fundamental changed within. The vulnerability of another person having that much influence on his emotions scared him. But this was Sarah. His Sarah. His friend, his confident, protector of those less fortunate than herself. Of all the people in all the world to have his heart in her hands, she was the one for him. “I love you,” he whispered.
A loud sigh of relief left her. “And I love you, Lord Archie. I wanted to say it, but was afraid I was being too…”
“Sappy? Clingy? Vulnerable?”
She gave a half laugh and rubbed her face against his chest. “Yes, all those things. You, too?”
“Yes. I’ve never said those words before. At my club…it’s a joke. Women and their softer feelings are…to be used to control them into behaving.” He swallowed. Was he breaking some unwritten code by admitting to this? “I never really thought about it, but my father never acted that way toward my mother. They still have genuine affection for each other.”
“As did mine,” she murmured. “And now, so will we. And we will teach our children that they are loved, just like our parents taught us.”
“Speaking of parents, have you noticed anyone hanging around Hermione lately?”
“What?” she sat up and stared at him.
“Just…she’s acting a lot like I feel.” He grinned at her. “Sort of happy but scared. Giddy yet serious.”
Sarah sat up. “How did I miss that?”
“You’ve been a bit busy.”
“As have you!”
“But she is my sister. I have spent more time with her at home where her guards are down. Plus…” He gave her a sheepish grin. “My mother asked me that question, said both her kids acted like they were in love.”
Sarah pushed on his chest, laughing and sputtering, then laid back down on his chest. He loved that she wanted to be touching him. “If your mother has noticed, then I am sure she is correct. We need to figure out who and see if he is good enough for her and the baby. We also need to make sure the marquess is punished.”
“We may have a snag on that. We haven’t mentioned it to Hermione yet, as we are waiting for the official word from the law about it, but she and the marquess might really be married. We found their names in the book we took from Gretna Green.”
“And she’s pregnant, so…”
“No annulment.” He softly stroked his fingers up and down her arm while they talked, loving the closeness.
“That is so infuriating. First she is, then she isn’t, now she is again? You know what? The Marquess of Oxford and Lord Downing are cut from the same deformed piece of noble cloth. If it were up to men like them, the word ‘noble’ would never have been associated with the upper class. They’re uncouth, selfish, do not take care of those dependent on them for their very life, and I swear they think even the other nobles are here for their pleasure!”
“It would seem to be true,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps, at the next soiree we attend, we need to pay attention to the nobles who act as their class name would suggest.”
“Stop teasing me,” she said, laughing as he’d intended. “I hate them both. I feel guilty that I’m not sorrier that I had to kill Lord Downing. I feel awful that I took a human life, but every time I think of what he was doing to me, what he has done to other girls—”
