Which is when Avice knocked on the door outside and called, “What are you doing, Emma? I am starving and our pies are going cold.”
Chapter Nineteen
Nicholas called, “Eat the pies yourself, brat. You won’t see your sister again until supper.” Footsteps scuffled, then silence returned. Nicholas regarded his wife. “Well, my love, seems your appetite has barely suffered after all. So, is it London together? Or do I take my fill now, and then ride off alone again into the moonlight?”
Emma collapsed, staring up at the inside of the old linen tester above. “This is so confusing. Have I been making a fool of myself – waiting and praying for you? And all the time you have been – gallivanting – without shame.”
“I’ve not taken another woman during that time, in case that’s what you’re thinking,” he answered cheerfully. “Does that help?”
Sniff. “Just because you’ve been too sick.”
He shook his head, still laughing. “Three or four days sick and a couple more feeling like a scalded hedgehog. The rest of the time I had my mind on other things. I’ve my own life to lead, my dear, or should I wear my wife around my neck at all times, like a baldric?”
“You could at least have sent the message you promised. Your promises are as unreliable as the wind.” The wind had begun to whistle and the rain was heavier, thrumming against the window so that she had to shout over it. “You – you’re a man without decency or honour or substance – and now I’m ashamed to be in love with a horrid brute who does not care for me at all.”
“You’re not in love with me,” Nicholas told her curtly. “You don’t even know me. You imagine yourself in love simply because I made love to you. You’re infatuated with sex and romance, that’s all. So come here.”
“I’m not infatuated,” Emeline protested loudly as the rain poured with renewed force. “I’m not an idiot. And I know you’re not in love with me, but you might at least show me some – kindness – and – respect.”
“I respect this,” he said, both hands hard to her shoulders, half lifting her as he brought her firmly into his embrace. “And I won’t fight with a naked woman.” She found herself held so fiercely, she could not wriggle nor barely breathe. “Hush,” he told her, “or your sister will be discovering more than your miserable father would approve of. Now I’ve other uses for all your energy.”
“I don’t want to anymore,” wailed Emeline.
“And that, my girl,” Nicholas said, “is just the challenge I need.” He had pulled her astride him, holding her nakedness tight to his leather and velvets, making no attempt to undress himself. Her own arms were limp, refusing to embrace him, but he took no notice and grinned, one hand firm to her buttocks, the other caressing her breasts, pulling and pinching, then leaning down to kiss her nipples. Between her legs she felt the stiffened rise of his codpiece, and against her belly the padded peplum of his doublet. She could not move away from him, her legs forced wide and the strange pressure of the heavy materials against her. He continued to explore with fingers and lips, and his warmth warmed her as she felt the steady wave of arousal mount in her groin.
But where he held to her buttocks, his fingers also probed, and Emeline was shy, whispering, “Don’t –”
And he lifted his face up to hers again, and smiled, and said, “Oh, I shall, my love. I shall what I will, but as I enjoy you, so I shall take you with me, and teach you the joy of the both the simple and the forbidden.”
His kisses travelled, a sensuous brush of his mouth against her skin from ear lobe to nipples and down between her breasts to her navel, his head nudging her ever back. Unable to go except where he permitted, she was now arched over, her legs spread and her body exposed while he watched, and continued to smile, so she mumbled, “Please –”
He interrupted, “Yes, it pleases me.” And suddenly he released his support, pushing her even further backwards. Then with both hands he grabbed her ankles, whipping them up to his shoulders so she squeaked, wriggling away. “Oh, no,” he murmured. “You’ll stay where I put you.”
Blushing fiercely, she mumbled, “I feel – invaded –”
He leaned forwards a little, his eyes very bright. “You want me to love you? Like this I adore you. You’re very much mine, and this is how I teach you passion, instead of modesty.” He rubbed his palms over her feet, one on each of his shoulders, as if warming her or quickening the circulation of her blood, firm and strong over her toes and soles, then to her ankles, lingering over the little sharp twist of her bones, and hard and fast along her calves. His thumbs pressed behind her knees as he gazed down, grinning at her, then his fingers smoothed the insides of her thighs, slowly now, tempting and tantalising. “Lie still, little vixen,” he whispered to her. “These are my desires. One day you’ll tell me yours.” And his fingers reached her groin, stopped there and then, very, very slowly, began to circle, rubbing either side, his thumbs pressing in. She felt the sudden cold metal of his signet ring, and flinched. He did not pause. Then abruptly one thumb and finger pushed inside, the other hand rubbing at the point of entry so she jerked, gripped suddenly by sensations she could no longer avoid. “Oh, yes, little one,” he murmured. “Now – close your eyes and trust me. I won’t hurt you.”
She shut her eyes tight, and felt him lean over so her legs were pushed up higher, and then his face was pressed down and the slight rasp of his chin prickled against her skin and the hot slide of his tongue was where his fingers had been. Now his hands slipped beneath her, again holding her up very closely against him while he breathed in her scent, making her gasp and twist as he kissed and discovered where else to kiss, and which kisses made her breathe faster.
He paused, leaning back again with a slight sigh, and said, “You are deliciously tight, my dear. It is such a sweet challenge.” And again she felt the sharp chill of his gold ring against her flesh, and the mounting tides she did not know how to resist became internal storms and she shuddered, shaken and crying out. He smoothed beneath her eyes, then across her lips. “This is the taste of you,” he whispered. “It is utterly delicious. See?” And he held her tight until she had calmed, and lay still in his arms.
Then he kissed her forehead, and slipped from beneath her, saying, “Now I must be naked too, to feel the velvet skin, and the cool softness, and the warm rise of your breasts.”
She had no words. She curled back against the pillows, catching her breath as she watched Nicholas undress. He seemed leaner than when she had last seen him, and the sleek slide of muscles and sinews in his arms and legs seemed more pronounced. His hair, dark as the charcoal in the brazier, had been cut short, but he had not shaved and his jaw was dusky with stubble. As she watched him so he watched her, tossing his doublet and shirt to the floor and bending to unlace the waistband which joined hose to braies. When he was naked he stood a moment, then came to her slowly. When he spoke, his voice was a tiny hot wind on her belly. “Now, my sweet, you’ll do as I say, for it’s my turn and I want you more than I’ve wanted anything for a long, long time.” He moved her gently, as if she was incapable of moving herself. And then he kissed her, first on the mouth with his tongue pushed between her teeth and his breath in her throat, and then he kissed her breasts while his fingers once again crept to her groin. “Squeeze,” he told her. “You have muscles inside here, strong enough to break wood. Discover them. Squeeze my fingers.” His eyes were so bright, she couldn’t look at him, and turned away. But with one hand to her cheek, he turned her back. “No, don’t avoid me. Learn about your body. Then learn about mine. Squeeze, as if restraining your bladder. That’s right. Again. So you control your own rhythms, and will bring me a pleasure I’ll have no voice to describe.”