Passion and Propriety (Hearts of Honour Book 1) (42 page)

“Good God . . . yes.” He groaned against her mouth when she released him from his constraints. His hands found their way beneath her skirts and smoothed along her thighs until they reached the soft curls at their juncture. Her whimpers of need assured him she was as ready as he was. Still they savoured the moment, kissing, caressing, and increasing the anticipation. When he could take no more, William urged her to lift up. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as she lowered herself onto him.

“Shh . . .” She cupped his cheek, directing his gaze to her face. “We’ll have to keep quiet, darling, or the driver and footmen will hear us.”

Her words made him smile. That and the feel of their bodies being rocked by the movement of the horses.

“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” he asked, keeping his voice low . . . or so he hoped.

“Hmm . . .” She rested her hands on his shoulders while raising and lowering herself in time with the carriage. Her breasts swayed before him, and he nuzzled them with his lips. “But I don’t mind hearing you say it again,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“You’re luberly . . . I mean
lovely
,” he declared, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Lifting his head, he met her gaze, speaking slowly and deliberately. “That’s because you are lovable . . . and I love everything about you.”

The breath hitched in Hannah’s throat, and she held still. “You do?”

“I do.” William tried to remember why he’d waited so long to tell her. “I love you, Hannah.”

She sighed. “Oh, William. I love you, too.”

“Even though I can’t give you a child?”
 

After kissing him soundly, she whispered close to his ear, “Even then. You’ve given me so much. I
adore
you, William.”

“Oh, God, Hannah. I adore you, too.” Groaning, he buried his face in the curve of her neck while they moved together, intimately joined and infusing one another with pleasure. He sought her mouth and tried to convey with his passionate kisses all the emotions that overflowed his heart. “I love you . . . I love you . . .” he murmured against her lips before kissing along the delicate line of her jaw. His hands mapped her curves, stroking, caressing, and arousing them both to an intensity he could barely recall having experienced before.

“I love you so much,” Hannah said as William lowered his head to the swell of her breasts. Moving faster in response to his caresses, she rode him until he felt the telltale pulses that revealed her climax was imminent, his own pleasure increasing a thousandfold. Muffling her cries against the curve of his shoulder, his wife reached her peak, trembling while he held her close. As her body clenched his tightly, his release crashed over him with unexpected force.

He should lift her off him immediately. It was what he’d done every time since the first . . . what he
had
to do . . . what he
must
do.

But he didn’t.

Caught up in the most intense orgasm he’d ever known, William gave no thought to his carelessness or its fearful consequence. Releasing his seed deep within Hannah’s body triggered wave after wave of pleasure to overtake her as she moaned against his neck, while his entire being was consumed by the sheer and utter bliss of being inside
his beloved when he came.

William awoke to canon fire exploding inside
his head.

“Hannah?” he groaned, one hand rising to ward off the pain, the other patting the empty mattress beside him in search of his wife. It wasn’t like him to sleep late, but since he was clearly suffering some terrible, life-threatening malady, he supposed it made sense he was alone. There was no point to Hannah catching whatever dreaded disease had claimed him.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” she said, and he whimpered in relief he’d not been abandoned. Peeking through the tiniest slit in his burning eyelids, he was just able to make out her form beside the bed.

“You need to sit up and drink this,” she said, indicating the glass in her hand. Her tone was more wry than solicitous, and he experienced a surge of indignation. Surely a dying man deserved some sympathy.

The thought brought him up short. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t leave Hannah.

“What’s wrong with me?” he croaked, struggling to lift up from the pillow. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I imagine it does.” Taking his weight, she propped up his head with extra pillows. “I suppose it says
something
for your character this is your first time suffering the effects of excessive inebriation.”

“Inebriation?” Before he could get any answers, she plied him with the foulest tasting concoction he’d ever been forced to imbibe.

“Gah!” he yelled after she forced him to down the last drop, spluttering and gasping at the sting the liquid had in its tail. “What on earth was that?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr Potts,” Hannah said, placing the glass on the bedside table. “It’s the remedy he used to aid your father when he was in the same condition—something that occurred quite often, I gather.”

“Too often,” William muttered, bewildered by this strange turn of events. “What happened?”

Hannah sat beside him on the bed, her hip pressed comfortingly against his thigh. He reached for her hand, grateful when she took it. If he’d behaved at all like his father when similarly affected—God forbid—she’d have been long gone, and his hope kindled at the thought. “I didn’t do anything too despicable, did I?”

“What do you remember?”

The effort required to concentrate caused his head to swell to double its size, or so it seemed. He moaned in response to the outrageous pain before managing to utter, “We went to a party . . . a dance. The Wescotts?”

Hannah nodded encouragingly.

“You were dancing. You looked so beautiful. I drank too much, obviously, and then . . .” There was nothing, and he raised his brows in alarm.

“You don’t remember what we did . . . what you said?” Her expression was pained, and William ignored his personal agony to search his foggy memories.

“That idiot kept touching you, and I was going to kill him,” he said, realising his mistake at her shocked gasp. He shrugged. He was a soldier. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d killed a man, though the others had been the enemy, not a fellow Englishmen, and it had been in the heat of battle. So perhaps she did have cause to look alarmed.

“We got to leave early.” He smiled at the remembered relief and anticipation. “
You
removed your pantaloons,” he said, pleased to provoke a blush. “Then . . .” His frown returned as whatever came next appeared lost in the quagmire that had invaded his brain. “We made love?”

“We did.” She nodded.

“In the carriage?”

“You don’t remember.”

Her lower lip trembled, and William felt a surge of panic.

“What? Did I hurt you? Was I too rough . . . or insensitive?” Sometimes Hannah needed help to reach a climax. It didn’t happen as easily for her as it did for him, but he
always
took the time to make sure she was fully satisfied. Had he selfishly neglected her needs while seeing to his own?

“No, nothing like that. It was wonderful.” Her voice broke, and she stood and moved to the sideboard, fussing with something no doubt inconsequential while composing herself.

William didn’t know what to think.

Striving harder, a few vague images crossed his mind. Hannah straddling his lap in the carriage—she was right, it
had
been good—while they whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Then, nothing. He vaguely remembered trying to make love to her again once they were home, on the stairs of all places. She’d scolded him. Something about their having an audience.

“Oh, God,” William muttered, and Hannah spun to face him.

“What do you recall?”

“I practically attacked you on the stairs, and there were servants watching. Houghton, I think, and Markham.”

“They helped me get you onto the bed and undressed you after you passed out. I think they were worried about my staying with you, but I assured them you were harmless.”

William closed his eyes against an upswell of shame. He had behaved just like his father.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah.” He carefully shook his head, relieved when the motion didn’t cause it to fall off. Mr Potts’ remedy seemed to be helping, not
that he deserved surcease from his suffering. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the servants. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” she said, but her expression was troubled.

“Did anything else happen?” He winced. “Did I say or do
anything
to offend you, because I assure you, it was the drink, not
me. Whatever I might have said or done last night, I want you to completely disregard it. It didn’t mean a thing, I promise
.
”

“If you say so,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

William’s heart sank, and he vowed never to touch another drop of demon drink. Over the course of the next few days, he struggled to make amends for hurting her, but Hannah remained subdued. Occasionally, he would catch her looking at him with an expression that caused his heart to clench. His memories weren’t much use, interwoven with long-held fantasies and what he could only describe as wish-fulfilment. He’d yet to summon the courage to tell his wife he loved her and, as for finding his release while still inside
her body, not even drunk would he take such a risk.

Chapter 33

Accident

Hannah tried not to be hurt by William’s disclaimer, but it seemed impossible he could tell her he loved her—
repeatedly—
then have no memory of it the next morning. She briefly considered reminding him of his declaration, but her husband’s words of love and adoration weren’t the only
thing he’d forgotten. The mere possibility she might be with child would see William beside himself, and not with joy.

While Hannah didn’t think he would blame her, the thought of admitting what had happened caused her stomach to knot. Typically, William took responsibility for preventing conception, but she’d been aware he was inebriated and done nothing to mitigate the risk. She recalled holding him very tightly, secretly wishing he would forget his resolve and allow them to be joined when he found his release . . . which was exactly what he’d done.

Hannah assured herself the odds of her being with child were minimal, but saying anything that might trigger William’s memory of the event didn’t seem wise. At least, not until she was certain
there were no life-altering consequences to their interlude. Once the danger had passed, she intended sharing her feelings with him again except, this
time, she would make sure he was in a fit state to recall her declaration and, she hoped, reciprocate in kind.

Other than her disappointment over the events of that night, she was coming to enjoy life as a viscountess. Her fear of failing to live up to expectations had mostly proved unfounded. Having expected lifelong spinsterhood, the joy she found in her marriage was well worth enduring the occasional raised brow and sly remark, especially when she recognised her critics were motivated by jealousy. No matter how she warned, entreated, or downright scolded, her husband was unable to resist displaying his affection for her in public. His actions were at the lower end of the scandalous scale—whispered endearments, discreet caresses, a general air of absorption where his wife was concerned when polite disinterest was the norm. But there was no mistaking the looks of envy she detected from the wives of the district’s gentry.

“So how are you finding married life, Lady Blackthorn?” she was asked repeatedly, the tone of the question ranging from coolly disapproving to downright salacious.

Smiling serenely, she responded with the utmost dignity, giving the same answer every time. “Wonderful, thank you. Just wonderful.”

It was true. William was extremely supportive, and she was flourishing. It helped that the position of viscountess had turned out to be remarkably similar to that of a vicar’s wife or daughter, just on a much grander scale. Her concern she might lack for purpose, with the running of the household and daily chores taken care of by others, proved unfounded. In fact, if she wanted to spend a few hours reading or playing the pianoforte, she had to schedule time in her diary, as the many and varied responsibilities incumbent on her new role could easily overwhelm her if she let them.