Romancing the Earl Read online

  Lenore had brushed her hair until it shone and smoothed sweet-smelling lotion over her skin. She felt new, clean and fresh, and all her senses were awake.

  After everything was done, and she was as prepared as she could ever be, she had started to consider again what sort of lover her husband would turn out to be. Sylvia had explained that gentlemen’s habits when it came to desire varied considerably, not that Sylvia knew from personal experience. It was just information her friend had stumbled upon in her line of work and quietly shared with Lenore.

  How men behaved in public was apparently no indication of their private intimate natures, Sylvia had said. Some men could be cruel. Others, as gentle as lambs.

  Men could be shy, too, or bold, just like women. Lenore only hoped Price knew what he was doing, because she hardly did.

  Carmichael stepped out of the carriage, head to toe in his usual impeccable dark garb. He crossed to the front door, but he did not glance up to her window on the way there. Why would Lord Carmichael expect his wife to be watching for him? It was not as if he had revealed any affection for her so far. He was only doing his duty, and so was she to a point.

  But she did feel affection for him. Carmichael had once been a funny boy, and had been an amusing and faithful correspondent in recent years. His yearly letters at Christmas had made her smile so often. She still thought of Edenmere Park as her home. And now she was married to him, it would always belong to her.

  But sometimes, when they met each other within the house, Carmichael looked at her with such surprise. As if he had forgotten Lenore was his wife. She was not about to let him forget she existed tonight.

  The front door shut loudly, and Lenore jumped at the sound. She blew out a frustrated breath, annoyed with herself for overreacting. What was there to be nervous about besides a little discomfort as he took her maidenhead? She would never have given it to anyone at all if she had not married Carmichael. She trusted him to be as gentle with her as it was possible to be at such a time.

  As the minutes ticked by and he did not knock on her door, Lenore tried not to imagine what she would do if he did not come to her bedchamber. It was difficult not to be worried when she could hear no movement beyond her room. Their exchange earlier in his study had been more uncomfortable than Lenore had expected, and it occurred to her later that he’d not been expecting her invitation at all.

  She was ready to be bedded, but what if he didn’t want to tonight…or any night? What if he’d changed his mind about coming to her bed? What if he took one look at her and fled?

  She put her hand over her face as a thousand doubts filled her. What if, what if, what if?

  Lenore moved to the mirror and looked at herself. The negligee she had purchased today was utterly indecent, and she covered up a bit more of her breast, though it didn’t help very much. How long should she wait for him? Half an hour. An hour? All night?

  She would not wait for him all night.

  Lenore pinched out the candle beside the mirror, shrouding the room in more flattering shadows just in case he liked her better in the dark. Perhaps she ought to let him know she was ready and waiting for him.

  Lenore turned—and nearly screamed.

  Carmichael was standing just inside her door, and she hadn’t heard him come in. He hadn’t knocked on the connecting door. She was sure she would have heard that.

  He put out one hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She blew out a breath. “You move very quietly.”

  “Sorry,” he said, then bit his lip. His eyes were upon her, and Lenore turned more, relaxing her shoulders, showing him her figure the way she had practiced before her mirror.

  His eyes widened, and he started fumbling for the door latch directly behind him.

  “Don’t go,” she begged, stepping toward him, and then she heard the lock turn.

  “I wasn’t leaving,” he promised. “I just needed to be sure the door had shut properly behind me. I wouldn’t want my valet to see you. No one but me should ever see you like this.” His voice sounded a little strange, thick and deep, and he straightened before he crossed the room to stand directly before her. His eyes held hers for a moment too long, and she grew uncomfortable. But then his attention dropped to look down at her body.

  A whimper of sound escaped him, and his breathing became ragged and fast.

  Lenore’s nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and she suddenly found she was having trouble breathing, too.

  His hand rose and settled lightly on her arm. “I apologize for being late.”

  “Were you?”

  “Unforgivably.” His lips quirked, and then his eyes rose to catch hers again. “I was half afraid you’d be in bed already.”

  “Lying in bed waiting for you might be what some mothers advise their daughters on their wedding night, but it seems a silly thing to do when I had invited you,” she managed to squeak out, fighting a blush. She shook her head, astonished with herself. She was no wallflower. She was looking forward to getting it over with.

  He walked his fingertips along her arm. “I’m glad you were not in bed. I’m glad I got to see you like this.”

  He leaned forward slowly, but he didn’t kiss her lips. Instead, he angled away at the last moment and brushed his mouth across her cheek. His kiss was light as air, but she quivered everywhere just the same. He dropped soft pecks across her skin until she could feel his breath warm against her throat. He kissed her there more purposely, until she shivered.

  Lenore felt a tug at her waist as her husband undid the satin sash holding her garment together.

  It dropped to the floor, and the garment gaped.

  Price’s breathing roughed as he moved her hair behind her shoulder, taking some of the gown with it. He’d deliberately exposed her breast and shoulder just to look at her.

  Lenore nearly swooned.

  His fingers returned to her waist, and then suddenly she was swept off her feet as he picked her up.

  Instinctively, Lenore lifted her arms around his neck and held on to him. Price wrapped her up tight in his arms, and a groan left his lips. She felt him shake.

  The bed was not far away, and she was grateful when he carried her there and set her down without dropping her.

  He did not join her immediately but stood beside the bed, looking down at her through hooded eyes. When Lenore looked at herself, she quickly tried to cover up. One whole leg was exposed up to her hip and her quim was clearly visible.

  Price stayed her hands. “Do that, and I’ll only unwrap you again.”

  She considered what to do, and then left her gown gaping. “Very well.”

  A slight smile played over his lips, and his fingers trailed along the top of her exposed thigh and back down again. But then he eased the comforter away from beneath her and helped her move higher up the bed. In the process, he covered her limbs again.

  Lenore sighed with relief at being decently covered. “Should you blow out the candles?”

  “No.” He smiled as he tucked a pillow under her head. “I’ve always been partial to unwrapping gifts in the light.”

  He sat down beside her on the mattress again and placed his hand flat on her stomach.

  Lenore sucked in her belly, pulling away from his warm palm.

  He smiled. “I’m not about to tickle you.”

  “I’d get you back if you tried,” she shot back without thinking.

  That made him laugh. It wasn’t a sound she’d heard since they’d married. It made her feel warm all over and clever.

  Lenore shifted her leg closer to him, bumping his thigh.

  He laughed again and shook his head. “We’ll get back to that.”

  But he did run just the tips of his fingers back and forth along her leg again before he stood abruptly.

  His touch was thrilling, but she wanted more than that brief touch from him.

  He turned away slightly and began to undo the buttons holding his robe closed. Lenore wet her lips, her breath stuc
k in her throat, but her heart was beating very fast as he unveiled himself oh so slowly.

  She shivered when she got a good look at him naked, but this time her quim clenched as well. He was beautiful. Manly. Like a painting she’d seen once in a former employer’s home.

  Price had a dusting of hair on his chest that trailed downward. His limbs were long, muscular, and pale. The skinny legs she’d once teased him about were perfectly proportioned for the rest of him. His member was curved slightly to one side. It moved, twitched suddenly, and she looked up.

  Her husband regarded her silently, his breathing loud in the quiet room. He was, to a fault, utterly breathtaking in every respect, and she was glad it would be him she gave her innocence to.

  He moved toward the bed and set one knee upon the mattress. Lenore moved slightly to give him room to settle beside her. He looked so serious in the shadowed light that she reached out to brush her fingers across his chest to reassure him it was all right.

  He settled on his side next to her, resting his head on one hand and placing his hand flat on her stomach again. Slowly, he moved his fingers beneath the edges of the sheer fabric covering her and slid them back and forth.

  Lenore closed her eyes and let him touch her—tease her. She knew being aroused by him would make the bedding more comfortable for her in the end.

  When his fingers found the curly thatch of hair between her legs, she let out a startled whimper and bit her lip. His touch felt better than she’d expected it could. When his fingers lowered more, she turned her face into his shoulder to hide the blush burning up her cheeks.

  He parted her folds gently, sliding through more wetness than should ever be ladylike for an inexperienced miss to have.

  She pressed her face harder against his hot shoulder and shuddered and shuddered. He played with her for a while, and Lenore squirmed and sought more of his intimate caresses. Harder. There. Again. Yes…

  When he moved on top of her at last, she widened her legs instinctively to accommodate his hips the way she was supposed to do.

  Carmichael buried his face in the crook of her neck as he wriggled and arranged their bodies until she felt the tip of him at the apex of her thighs. He was warm, solid…and her husband.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair at the nape and opened her legs a little more, eager, just as he pushed forward hard.

  Lenore hissed, caught by surprise, and dug her nails into his scalp. In that instance, what they were doing went from really feeling quite all right, to strange as he started moving against her, inside her.

  The strangeness didn’t last long.

  Lenore clung to her husband, quickly swept up in sensations entirely foreign to her but utterly compelling. Her entire world centered within her husband’s hot embrace. His skin slipped against hers, and the desperate sound of his breath against her ear made her shiver.

  They’d made this a real marriage at last.

  There was no escape for either one of them, no chance of annulment anymore.

  Just as she was starting to feel wonderful, nearing the bliss that Sylvia had whispered she might feel, he suddenly stiffened and shouted out. His grip tightened on her head, pulling her into him hard.

  Then he lay atop her, heavy and warm, protectively cradling her close for only a moment before he lifted up and away to fall on his back beside her, gasping.

  Lenore lay still, satisfied that she was his wife even if her body felt empty now. Lonely without his touch. She had certainly enjoyed what they’d been doing up to a point, but she guessed that was over now. She wouldn’t mind if her husband kept touching her that way but didn’t know how to ask for more.

  He sat up suddenly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Lenore stared at the back of his head and at his hunched shoulders. She instinctively knew something was wrong by the way he sat there so long and so quietly. Was he displeased with her?

  He turned slightly but did not meet her gaze. “Lenore?”

  She gulped, suddenly worried. “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

  She almost gasped at the question. Did she have that choice? Would he stay and make love to her again if she asked him to?

  But if he thought to ask, give her a choice, she suspected that he didn’t want to stay. The only way to know was to ask him. “Do you want to?”

  “I shouldn’t impose.” He stood up immediately, circled the bed, and snatched his robe from the floor. She could not see him very clearly because the candles were almost out now, but she could see enough to know he could hardly look in her direction. “If you need me during the night, just call out.”

  Just like that, he was leaving? That was it? She gulped back her disappointment and smiled. This was the bargain they’d made, after all. “I will. Good night, husband.”

  He nodded. “Wife.”

  And then he was gone, the connecting door shutting quietly behind him. Lenore listened to her husband moving around in the next chamber with a heart that grew heavier with each minute that passed. Could Price really expect her to go to sleep after that experience? She wanted to talk to him so badly, but not if he didn’t want to just as much. What happened next between them? Would she always be the one who initiated lovemaking or would he?

  She drew her legs together and pulled the blankets high, remembering how he’d felt inside her. The touch of his hands on her body. The feelings he brought to life. She felt incomplete without him touching her now.

  She ran her hand across her stomach, and then lower down.

  Her fingers made her body quiver, but nothing compared to her reaction to Price. The need she felt before was just there, waiting to be rekindled again by him. She peeked at the door connecting her room to his. Could she call her husband back to continue making her feel the way he had? She should have asked him to stay instead of letting him go.

  She lay there, staring at the ceiling until her candles spluttered and died, wracked with indecision and regret and listening for the sound of her husband returning to her of his own accord. She wanted to call out but she felt foolish. Her husband could be asleep by now, and she didn’t want to wake him when he spent so little time at home.

  But then she heard a door close in the hall outside and sat up. Footsteps crept past her doorway, their sound becoming fainter by the minute as whoever it was went down the main staircase.

  Lenore scrambled out of bed when she heard the front door open beneath her room—and ran to the window just in time to see her husband climb into a waiting carriage and drive away from their home.

  He’d bedded her and then left her straight after!

  Lenore sagged. He hadn’t meant his offer to come back if she needed him. And he must have known he was going out again if he’d kept his carriage waiting for his return.

  Lenore turned from the window and let the drape fall closed, deeply hurt by his abandonment. She had not expected him to be enraptured by bedding her, but she never imagined he’d leave straight after he had done the deed.

  Deep down, Lenore discovered she had expected more from him.

  She put her fingers over her lips, unwilling to cry over him. Lord Carmichael hadn’t really wanted her. He couldn’t even kiss her. He’d only bedded her because she’d made him feel duty-bound with her coarse invitation and her provocative manner of dress.

  He had run away, obviously repelled, leaving Lenore behind with a breaking heart.

  She dragged herself to the washbasin, cleaned herself in the dark, and changed into a proper nightgown to sleep in. The negligee she’d bought to please her husband, she hid among her oldest dresses. She’d throw it away the first chance she got tomorrow morning.

  Lenore climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

  Feeling a little sore now, and dejected, she hugged the blankets tightly around her. For the first time since her marriage, she paused long enough to wonder what type of place it was that her husband escaped to every evening. Did he go to a mistr
ess after all? Or was anywhere else better than here, with her?

  Chapter 14

  Price delayed as long as he could the next morning, but he couldn’t avoid Lenore forever.

  They had shared a bed last night. He’d made love to her.

  Despite his unspoken concern that it was too soon in their marriage, he thought bedding her had gone well—at least from his perspective. He’d harbored the tiniest doubt that he might have been capable of performing last night. She wasn’t the woman he’d loved and wanted in his bed for so long.

  But whatever doubts he’d entertained before opening that connecting bedchamber door had disappeared the moment he’d seen Lenore standing in next to nothing beside her bed.

  After that, well, Price had found it hard to hold back, and it was unlike him to be at the mercy of his desires. He hadn’t wanted to reveal how her unexpected appearance had inflamed him. It was her first time, and as she’d put it once, they didn’t really know each other. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her with the depths of lust she’d made him feel last night upon seeing her nearly naked. He’d forced himself to leave her bed, her room, after the deed was done, though it had cost him to not explain his reasons for going.

  How could he consider himself a gentleman if he told her he’d wanted nothing more than to take her a second time last night?

  Immediately.

  However many doubts he might have had about himself, Lenore had seemed well prepared for intimacy between husband and wife. Someone must have told her what a wedding night would entail, because he hadn’t had to explain one thing about what he’d done to her. She’d been a virgin, and tight, but not unprepared for the ways of passion between men and women. If he could have held out longer, she could have experienced bliss, too.

  Price had but one regret about the previous night. He’d failed to pleasure his wife properly during the bedding. He wondered if she realized it yet. No doubt she would eventually, and think him a selfish cad.

  He would not be next time.