"Not at all." Caroline could not suppress a trace of smugness as she replied. "I enjoyed it, actually. Julianne was furious-I have no doubt she wanted to scratch my eyes out. And naturally she denied having had anything to do with Lord Brenton's death. But she gave me the letters all the same. I can assure you that she will never trouble us again."
Andrew hugged her tightly, his hands sliding repeatedly over her back. Then he spoke quietly in her hair, with a meaningful tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in excitement. "There is a matter I have yet to take care of. As I recall, I left you a virgin the last time we met."
"You did," Caroline replied with a wobbly smile. "Much to my displeasure."
His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her with a mixture of adoration and avid lust that caused her knees to weaken. She leaned heavily against him, her tongue sliding and curling against his. Excitement thumped inside her, and she arched against him in an effort to make the embrace closer, her body craving the weight and pressure of him.
"Then I'll do my best to oblige you this time," he said when their lips parted. "Take me to your bedroom."
"Now? Here?"
"Why not?" She felt him smile against her cheek. "Are you worried about propriety? You, who had me handcuffed to a bed-"
"That was Cade's doing, not mine," she said, blushing.
"Well, you didn't mind taking advantage of the situation, did you?"
"I was desperate!"
"Yes, I remember." Still smiling, he kissed the side of her neck and slid his hand to her breast, caressing the gentle curve until her nipple contracted into a hard point. "Would you rather wait until we marry?" he murmured.
She took his hand and pulled him out of the parlor, leading him upstairs to her bedroom. The walls were covered with flower-patterned paper that matched the pink-and-white embroidered counterpane on the bed. In such dainty surroundings, Andrew looked larger and more masculine than ever. Caroline watched in fascinated delight as he began to remove his clothes, discarding his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt, draping the fine garments on a shield-backed chair. She unbuttoned her own gown and stepped out of it, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. As she stood in her undergarments and stockings, Andrew came to her and pulled her against his naked body. The hard, thrusting ridge of his erection burned through the frail muslin of her drawers, and she let out a small gasp.
"Are you afraid?" he whispered, lifting her higher against him, until her toes almost left the ground.
She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his warm skin, lifting her hands to stroke the thick, cool silk of his hair. "Oh, no," she breathed. "Don't stop, Andrew. I want to be yours. I want to feel you inside me."
He set her on the bed and removed her clothes slowly, kissing every inch of her skin as it was uncovered, until she lay naked and open before him. Murmuring his love to her, he touched her breasts with his mouth, licked and teased until her nipples formed rosy, tight buds. Caroline arched up to him in ardent response, urging him to take her, until he pulled away with a breathless laugh. "Not so fast," he said, his hand descending to her stomach, stroking in soothing circles. "You're not ready for me yet."
"I am," she insisted, her body aching and feverish, her heart pounding.
He smiled and rolled her to her stomach, and she groaned as she felt his mouth trail down her spine, kissing and nibbling. His teeth nipped at her buttocks before his lips traveled to the fragile creases at the backs of her knees. "Andrew," she groaned, writhing in torment. "Please don't make me wait."
He turned her over once again, and his wicked mouth wandered up the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, and his strong hands carefully urged her thighs apart. Caroline whimpered as she felt him lick the damp, soft cleft between her legs. Another, deeper stroke of his tongue, and another, and then he found the excruciatingly tender bud and suckled, his tongue flicking her, until she shuddered and screamed, her ecstatic cries muffled in the folds of the embroidered counterpane.
Andrew kissed her lips and settled between her thighs. She moaned in encouragement as she felt the plum-shaped head of his sex wedge against the slick core of her body. He pushed gently, filling her… hesitating as she gasped with discomfort. "No," she said, clutching frantically at his hips, "don't stop… I need you… please, Andrew…"
He groaned and thrust forward, burying himself completely, while her flesh throbbed sweetly around him. "Sweetheart," he whispered, breathing hard, while his hips pushed forward in gentle nudges. His face was damp, suffused with perspiration and heat, his long, dark lashes spiky with moisture. Caroline was transfixed by the sight of him- he was such a beautiful man… and he was hers. He invaded her in a slow, patient rhythm, his muscles rigid, his forearms braced on either side of her head. Writhing in pleasure, she lifted her hips to take him more deeply. His mouth caught hers hungrily, his tongue searching and sliding.
"I love you," she whispered between kisses, her wet lips moving against his. "I love you, Andrew, love you…"
The words seemed to break his self-control, and his thrusts became stronger, deeper, until he buried himself inside her and shuddered violently, his passion spending, his breath stopping in the midst of an agonizing burst of pleasure.
Long, lazy minutes later, while they were still tangled together, their heartbeats returning to a regular rhythm, Caroline kissed Andrew's shoulder.
"Darling," she said drowsily, "I want to ask something of you."
"Anything." His fingers played in her hair, sifting through the silken locks.
"Whatever comes, we'll face it together. Promise to trust me, and never to keep secrets from me again."
"I will." Andrew raised himself up on one elbow, staring down at her with a crooked smile. "Now I want to ask something of you. Could we forgo the large wedding, and instead have a small ceremony on New Year's Day?"
"Of course," Caroline said promptly. "I wouldn't have wanted a large wedding in any case. But why so soon?"
He lowered his mouth to hers, his lips warm and caressing. "Because I want my new beginning to coincide with the new year. And because I need you too badly to wait for you."
She smiled and shook her head in wonder, her eyes shining as she stared up at him. "Well, I need you even more."
"Show me," he whispered, and she did just that.
Puddings, Pastries, and Thou by Lisa Cach
To Valerie
Chapter One
Christmas Eve, 1818
Copley Grange
Near Corfe Castle, England
"Oh dear. Is that the best you have to wear, Miss Ambrose?"
"Your pardon, ma'am. I'm afraid it is," Vivian admitted, holding her hands clasped tightly in front of her and refusing to give in to the urge to smooth the skirt of her navy wool gown. It was a gown meant for a governess or a paid companion, or for what she was: a poor relation.
"Dear me, dear me, this won't do. This won't do at all!" Mrs. Twitchen, her distant cousin, fretted. "We are having Mr. John Sudley, baronet, for dinner, and his wife is the granddaughter of an earl. This won't do!"
"Perhaps, ma'am, it would be better if I did not attend?" Her stomach growled and gurgled beneath her clasped hands. She could, though, feed it just as well off a tray in her room as at the table.
"Nonsense," Captain Twitchen spoke up, sitting by the fire where the oak yule log burned. He placidly read his paper, a bull of a man around which maids and footmen flowed as they hung greenery and positioned silver candelabra newly polished. "If your gown is not suitable, wear one of Penelope's. She won't mind. Will you, girl?"