“Is that why you haven’t made love to me since Monday?”
“You’re blushing.” In the dark he could not see her blush, but when he laid the back of his hand against her cheek, he felt it.
“I am. I’m also asking you a question.”
Val dropped his hand and went back to thumbing her nipple gently. “I have left you in peace for a variety of reasons, the first of which is consideration for your tender person.”
“Oh.” It clearly hadn’t occurred to Ellen her person might merit such consideration. “My thanks. Do men get sore?”
“Not as easily as women, or I don’t think we do, but you inspired me to a prolonged and lengthy performance. Blazing hell, that feels good.”
Ellen had one hand on his cock and used her free hand to rake his nipples with her nails. “What were your other reasons?”
“For what?”
“Abandoning me.”
“Ellen?” Val caught her hand, stilling it wrapped around his member. “Abandoning you?”
“You make passionate love to me,” she said, all teasing gone, “and then you essentially avoid me, unless we’re among your fellows or it’s the dark of night. You hold me tenderly in the dark then depart with a kiss to my cheek, Valentine. I would not have you reporting to my bed out of guilt or the sense you’ve embarked on a course you cannot gracefully depart from.”
“Blue blazing… You think I could stay away? From you?”
“You have. You’ve stayed away from me in one sense, at least.”
“Dear heart.” Val shifted to crouch over her. “You are so wrong. If I join with you now, I can get you with child. I’ve kept a respectful distance during the day so you might have some privacy and a chance to tend your flowers. I am hesitant to disturb your sleep because I know how hard you work and I do not want to impose.”
“So I was… adequate?” She buried her face against his neck.
“No.” He shifted up and she let him go.
She held her tongue while Val got out of bed and lit an oil lamp using a taper and the embers in the hearth. He turned the wick up to let her see not only his naked body but his features as well.
“Look at me, Ellen Markham.” Val sat at her hip and reached for her hand. “I want you to see my face when I tell you this, so you’ll know I’m not flirting or prevaricating or being what you call sophisticated and what I would call false.
“You were not adequate,” he went on. “You were every wish and prayer I’ve ever articulated or dreamed made flesh. You were my most generous fantasies brought to life; you were an experience I could not have conjured from my wildest, most selfish and creative artistic imagination. I hunger for you.”
Hunger. He’d chosen the word advisedly. It was an order of magnitude more compelling even than adore.
“You can blow out the lamp,” Ellen said, dropping her gaze.
“Do you believe me?” Val scooted closer and looped his arms around her shoulders.
“I believe you.” But she kept her forehead against his shoulder.
“Let me hold you.” Val blew out the lamp and climbed under the covers. How in the blazing hell could he have been so remiss? Women needed reassurances; he knew this, and he wasn’t usually so unforthcoming. There was always something he could tell a woman—she had smooth skin even if her figure was less than average. She kissed enthusiastically if not with much skill. She was restful if not inspiring.
And he realized why he’d had no pretty words for Ellen.
She was beyond the little consolation compliments Val might have come up with for his usual fare. She was beyond flirtation and banter and superficial kindnesses.
And she was well beyond his silly duplicity regarding his station in life.
“Why the sigh?” Ellen stretched up and kissed his jaw. He’d put her on her back while he’d kept to his side. Her leg was again hiked over his hip, her cheek against his chest.
“You won’t be safe again for another week at least. That looms as an eternity.”
“It does seem like a rather long time.”
“We can settle for half measures,” Val suggested, not liking the idea they had options he would keep from her.
“Like on the blanket under the willow?”
They did not indulge in those half measures Val alluded to, but Ellen was giggling and blushing far into the night, and for Val, that was just as enjoyable, if not more. He explained to her all the taunts and insults and naughty terms she’d heard on darts night and not understood. He listed not less than a dozen terms, all referring to his member, and stopped only when Ellen was laughing so hard she cried.
Summer in London stank, literally.
Summer at Roxbury Hall stank literally and figuratively, but thank all the gods Freddy’s third-quarter allowance had arrived with the first of July and he was free to leave for Town.
Freddy took himself to the stables where his handsome bay gelding had been kept walking the better part of an hour. It was just as well, as Freddy’s mood was not suited to a fresh horse with spunk and sport on its mind. He swung up from the mounting block, thinking the ladies’ block might have been the better choice, as his blasted breeches were far tighter than the expense of having them tailored merited.
By the time he reached Great Weldon, Freddy’s breeches were fitting a little more comfortably, and his mood was improving. He needed more coin if he was to be ready for hunt season in the fall and Portugal in the winter, hence the necessity to tend his schemes and detour through the rural provinces of Oxfordshire.
He rapped on the polished bar of The Hung Sheep. “Whiskey, my good man.”
He detested the place, particularly the image of the cheerfully leering ram that swung over the main entrance. Nonetheless, a certain kind of business could be transacted here, and so here he would bide at least for a few minutes.
When his whiskey appeared, Lord Roxbury leaned across to catch the bartender’s eye. “Be a good fellow and tell Louise to attend me in the snug.”
The bartender barely nodded before disappearing into the kitchen. A young lady emerged a few minutes later sporting a smile Freddy knew was as false as her truly impressive breasts were genuine.
“Milord.” She beamed at Freddy where he sat frankly ogling her breasts. “May I fetch you another?”
Freddy wrinkled his nose. “It’s a pathetic brew, but I’ve miles to go yet, so yes.”
Her smile slipped a bit, though Freddy wasn’t about to admit the drink was both decent and inexpensive.
“So there ye be.” She set the drink down a moment later, not spilling a drop. “What else can Louise get for ye?”
“Answers.” Freddy scowled at the drink. “It’s been two weeks, my girl. What news have you for me?”
“Plenty of news.” Louise smiled broadly. “What coin have ye for me?”
Freddy’s scowl became as calculating as Louise’s smile. For God’s sake, she took his coin, and all he asked of her—almost all—was that she pass along to him a few bits of gossip and keep her younger relations’ eyes sharp in the same cause.
“I have something for you, Louise,” Freddy said, “but it will have to wait until we can be private. But then, as I recall, the stables are private enough for a woman of your refined tastes, aren’t they?” He slid his hand over her wrist and pulled her down to sit beside him. “Talk, Louise, and then you’ll walk me to my horse.”
He laced his fingers with hers and squeezed tightly. She didn’t wince—peasant stock was tough.
“From what Neal’s pa says, Mr. Windham is improving up a storm at the old Markham place. The roof is almost done, the floors and windows are all in, the plastering and painting is thundering along, and even the grounds are looking tidy and spruce.”