The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) (38 page)

David Carlington straightened on the seat and regarded his daughter with a cocked eyebrow. “Indeed, it is,” he remarked with just a hint of pride. “And you can be my first passenger if that rake you’re about to marry will provide some assistance in getting you up here,” he added in a tone that suggested he wasn’t necessarily teasing.

Thinking perhaps the marquess had discovered how he had gone about courting Elizabeth, George decided against confirming any suspicion or gossip. “Ah, the man impugns my honor,” he instead claimed in exaggerated offense, his grin belying his words. Although he could have taken offense at his future father-in-law’s comment, George thought it better to make light of it. If he protested, it might make his guilt more apparent. He turned to Elizabeth. “Are you game?”

Elizabeth turned her attention to him, her eyes still wide. “Oh, could I, George? I’ve never been. There’s never any room for a chaperone,” she explained when she saw his look of surprise.

George smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’ll help you up. And should you decide you enjoy it, we’ll take ours the next time we come to the park.”

She was halfway up to the bench seat when she paused and looked down at George, balancing with one hand in his while her other was held by her father. “Ours?” she repeated, her mouth forming that perfect ‘o’. Her father pulled her onto the seat, the swish of her skirts affording George a tantalizing view of her ankles and petticoats.

“I apologize for our tardiness, my lord,” George offered as he checked his Breguet and found it was still well before eleven. “She nearly had me talked into taking her to Greta Green,” he added in a teasing voice.

“George!” Elizabeth countered, the name coming out in far more than the two syllables she usually used to say it. Her mouth formed a rather large ‘O’ when she realized her intended was merely teasing.

Morganfield grinned at his future son-in-law. “Get thee to the church, Bostwick, or
I
shall never speak to you again.”

“Yes, my lord,” George replied with a curt nod, jumping up into his curricle. He pulled out into the lane and was soon following the phaeton as it made its way to St. Paul’s church.

Chapter 32
Wedding Night Wonders

Night had already fallen by the time George maneuvered the curricle to the curb. Elizabeth, her head resting in the small of his shoulder, was asleep. A groom was soon seeing to the horse as George lifted his wife from the seat and carried her up the steps of Bostwick Place. Elkins opened the double doors even before George was on the landing, stepping aside with a poorly suppressed grin curving the corners of his mouth.

“My lord, my lady,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to waken the new mistress of the house.

George glowered at his valet’s use of titles but found he couldn’t stay annoyed. “I think breakfast will be late. Very late. We should like to take it in the apartment, of course. And do be sure there’s chocolate for the viscountess,” George said in a quiet voice, his gaze lowering to Elizabeth’s face. Her eyes were open, the aquamarine irises full of mischief, and an impish grin was forming.

“Chocolate sounds like a perfect way to start my first day as a wife.” She reached out her right hand to Elkins. “I am Elizabeth ... Bennett-Jones,” she offered, nearly using her maiden name before she caught herself.

His face coloring up at finding his master’s new wife introducing herself from such an awkward position, Elkins took the proffered hand and shook it. “Elkins, my lady. At your service. I will see to it the staff is prepared to meet you properly on the morrow, my lady,” the valet said as released her hand.

Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you, Elkins. You may retire for the evening.”

The valet’s eyes widened. He glanced up at George, one eyebrow cocking as if he was surprised he was already being dismissed. George grinned. “You heard the lady,” he said as he turned and started up the stairs, giving his new wife a smirk as he did so.

Elkins stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched his master as George carried his viscountess up the stairs. “Good night, my lord. My lady.” When they had disappeared into the hallway above, he made his way to his quarters. If Viscount Bostwick didn’t require him until – how had he put it? 
Late
, he’d said – then perhaps it was time to make the acquaintance of the new upstairs maid. He was quite sure she had been flirting with him during the servants’ night out at Vauxhall Gardens. Her services wouldn’t be immediately required in the morning, after all.

“Since you dismissed my valet, I do hope you intend to help me undress,” George said as he allowed Elizabeth to reach down and open the doors to his apartment. When her hand let go of the doorknob, she reached up to put her finger into the knot of his cravat. With a slight jerk, the perfectly tied length of linen loosened from around his neck.

“Of course, I intend to. In fact, I plan to have you undressed and ready for me before I take off a single item of clothing,” she claimed, her eyebrow once again rising to an arch.

George paused before taking her into the apartment. “Indeed?’ he replied, carrying her to an upholstered chair. He was about to set her down in front of it when she shook her head.

“No, George,” she whispered. She used her head to motion towards the cheval mirror.

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied. Elizabeth could feel his pulse rate increase as he strode toward the mirror, all the while he was keeping an eye on her. One of her hands was at his back, while the other was wrapped over his shoulder and around his neck. When he reached the space in front of the mirror, the very space where he had held her facing the mirror while he undid the fastenings of her gown that first time, he regarded her for a moment. Lowering his face to hers, he kissed her, a short, sweet kiss that was merely a harbinger of things to come.

She extricated herself from his hold, her feet barely touching the ground before she pulled the cravat from around his neck. She moved her fingers to undo his topcoat buttons, making quick work of them. George stood still while she pushed the garment off his body. Then she went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. Even before he could pull off the waistcoat, she had started on the fastening of his breeches. Pulling his shirt fabric from around his waist, she splayed her fingers and moved her palms over the warm skin beneath his shirt.

Having promised he would maintain control for at least a while, George found himself succumbing to his wife’s ministrations. Her deft fingers were making quick work of his clothing, and now, as her hands pushed against his chest and slid over the planes of his body, he found himself wondering how much longer he would be able to maintain any semblance of control. “My lady,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “I cannot keep my hands from you any longer,” he intoned, his lips still pressed against her face.

Elizabeth giggled. “Then don’t, my lord. I order you to ravish me this very minute, or I shall never speak to you again,” she whispered, the hint of seduction lacing her words. Elizabeth shrieked in delight as her body was suddenly surrounded by his arms, his fingers pulling apart the fastenings of her bodice while his lips worked their magic on her earlobe. In only a moment, yards of golden silk hid her from view as George pulled her gown over her head. She felt the ties of her corset loosen, and in mere seconds, the offending garment was suddenly open and falling off her body. Her chemise followed in short order so that she was left wearing only her jewelry, gloves, stockings and slippers. Elizabeth gasped as he lifted her body in his arms and laid her out on the bed, where the downturned linens left a wide expanse in which to place her nearly naked body.

George kicked off his shoes, jerked his stockings off his legs and pushed his breeches and drawers to the floor as he watched her nudge her slippers from both feet and toss them aside. The sight of her clad in only stockings, gloves and gemstones was intoxicating. He climbed onto the bed, holding his naked body suspended over hers. “I love you,” he whispered. His lips captured hers, his kiss one of passion and promise. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss, her body writhing beneath him so that he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her. But he knew he would hurt her in doing so. Better to pleasure her until she was in ecstasy and then take her virtue, he decided.

He slid one hand along the length of her body as he kissed her. When it slid over her mound and through the dark curls between her thighs, her lips pulled away from his in a gasp. “George!” she whispered, his name coming out in a long, low groan.

Smiling to himself as he felt his own body respond, George pressed his hand against her, his middle finger sliding along the wetness between the warm folds. Her womanhood was there, already swollen and red and ready for his magic touch. He stroked it, circled it with his thumb and flicked over it with the edge of a finger before gently sliding the same finger inside her. Seeking the sensitive flesh inside with the pad of his finger, he watched as Elizabeth’s body bowed beneath him, her eyelids so heavy they nearly covered the aquamarine of her eyes. She arched back, gasping and moaning, begging him to take her. While sliding a second finger into her, George lowered his lips to one breast, covering one nipple to suckle and nip the engorged nub. He felt her body shiver, shake, shudder before he slowly removed his fingers and used their moistness to tease her engorged womanhood to the very edge of climax. Lifting his body on his other arm, he positioned himself over her and between her legs as they parted and lifted to wrap around his thighs. When he was sure she was cresting a wave of pleasure, he allowed his sword to seek out the warmth and wetness of her sheath. She surrounded him, pulled him in before he stilled his movement. She was so tight around him! He could hear her gasp as he filled her, as he stopped when he felt the barrier of her maidenhead. His mouth lowered onto her other breast, teasing and nipping at her nipple until Elizabeth’s cry of his name filled the night. Then he pulled out of her a bit and plunged his turgid manhood into her as far as he dared, biting his lip as he felt and heard her sudden inhalation of breath at what must have been the pain. He stilled himself again, moved his hands to cradle her face. Kissing her lips and the corner of her mouth, he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him penetrate her completely, the sense of fullness nearly as overwhelming as the wave after wave of pleasure had been just a moment ago. If there was pain, she was unaware of it, her very being having left her body to hover above, to watch as George kissed her, as he held himself so still inside her, as he buried his head into the space between her neck and shoulder, as his tongue barely touched the tender skin beneath her ear and his lips took purchase on her earlobe. When she felt his words in her ears, she opened her eyes and inhaled as if she’d been holding her breath for too long, her mind suddenly at one with her body again. “George,” she whispered, drawing out his name and leaving her lips curved up in a seductive smile.
What had he said?
She was sure he’d said something. She’d felt his breath, his lips against the whorl of her ear. “Say it again,” she breathed, her hands sliding up the sides of his torso, under his arms, up to his shoulders and around his neck.

“I love you,” he whispered as he lifted his head, his torso held suspended over hers by his bent arms. Before she could respond, his lips captured hers in a thorough kiss. And then he began to move. Instinctively, Elizabeth clenched down on his retreating manhood, not wanting it to leave her body, not wanting the sense of fullness to disappear. At George’s rather loud growl, she let go and was rewarded with his hardened manhood filling her again. And she moved to meet him, lifting her hips so that he was buried even deeper in her. A chuckle burbled up from his throat as he steadied himself. “You minx,” he said as he caught site of her mischievous grin. Then he was pulling out and thrusting into her, over and over in a rhythm she matched with her hips meeting his. And then she became aware of the throbbing deep inside. Of the sensations his thrusting sword created at her very core. Of the sounds of his panting as his rhythm quickened. And when the waves started rolling, she arched her back and cried out his name.

George intended to still himself, to watch as Elizabeth was taken by the waves of pleasure, to be sure she had come to completion. But seeing her ecstasy, feeling her sudden tightening on him, the way her body seemed to capture him and hold on and pull him in deeper inside ... it was too much. The spasm of the climax caught and shattered him. A growl and a whisper of “Elizabeth” were his only sounds before he collapsed onto the lush body beneath him.

Clinging to his back with her fingertips, Elizabeth held on as if her very life depended on it, for she was sure if she let go, her body would simply break apart and fly away on the slightest breath, on George’s breath as it washed over her neck and shoulder and her breasts. With the last vestiges of the pleasure waves coursing through her, she took a deep breath and sighed it away. Turning her face to where his rested on the pillow next to hers, she kissed George on the forehead. “You are the master of the understatement, George,” she whispered, a slow smile forming.

His body quite boneless as it lay sprawled over hers, George stirred enough to gaze at his wife through heavy lidded eyes. “Hmm?” he managed, wondering what she meant.

“You said there would be ‘
more
’,” she replied in a teasing voice. She felt his body tremble with a suppressed chuckle.

“My lady, you have barely experienced the ‘more’,” he whispered before falling into a satisfied slumber atop his wife, a smile still on his lips as he imagined Elizabeth’s facial expression.

Sliding her suddenly boneless legs down the sides of George’s thighs while making sure he was still firmly inside her, Elizabeth’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’.

Always promise her more.