The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (15 page)

He took her slowly, kissing her long and languorously each time he advanced the intimacy of his lovemaking, soothing her back to the bonelessness she'd achieved as she had grown accustomed to his mouth against her breast, his hand on her bare thigh. His touch remained reverent, adoring, his words encouraging her, praising her beauty, her quite exquisite perfection—until she had lost the last of her maidenly reserve.

It was only then that he slid his fingers between her thighs, murmuring words of love, of sweet desire as he found her, moved against her, woke her to sensations that must frighten her even as they overwhelmed. He brought her to the brink of ecstasy and then beyond, before quickly joining with her, mixing pain with pleasure until the pain faded and pleasure was all she knew, all she wanted, all she begged him to give her.

For a long time afterwards silence filled the room, until a log crashing into the grate brought them back to their surroundings. Their two bodies slowly disengaged on the bed before Jared pulled Amanda close against his shoulder while he cradled her against him.

At last the silence was broken as a sleepy voice whispered in wonder, "So that's how it's done, my lord. I do believe Nanny didn't understand the procedure at all." This proclamation was immediately followed by a delicate hiccup, and then Amanda trustingly slipped her fingers into the soft mat of hair on her husband's chest. Before Jared could form a suitable answer to her announcement, his bride was fast asleep.

Sleep did not come as easily for the formerly carefree Lord Storm as he lay there, allowing his arm to go numb in fear of moving lest he disturb the small girl. He had lain with many women, more than he cared to recall, but never had he felt any emotions akin to the possessiveness and desire to cherish, to protect, that overcame him now. With his free hand he eased the covers over Amanda's shoulders and placed a light kiss on her hair.

He had made a mistake tonight, one he'd never made with any of his mistresses, but tomorrow he would direct his aunt to have a talk with Amanda about preventing any pregnancy. This one night couldn't make any difference, could it? And as for those mistresses—as for Lady Blanche Wade, his current mistress? Well, that part of his life was over; gone and unlamented. He would send Blanche a draft on his bank in the morning.

Jared was not in the least tired. In fact, he felt he could remain awake all night, listening to Amanda's quiet even breathing as she lay curled up against him. He had known he desired Amanda, but now that his first hot desire had been satisfied he could barely wait until she awoke and he could hear sweet voice, tease her into revealing her wide, engaging smile. With Amanda, even arguing was a pleasure.

His hands clenched into tight fists at his side. Damn it all to hell! Gently, he moved Amanda back to her own side of the huge bed, and deliberately turned his back on her, beating at his pillows in frustration before all but plowing his head into the dent he had made.

This hadn't been a part of his plan! He couldn't really be in love with the brat!

He couldn't.

Although Amanda had been awake for several minutes, she felt strangely unwilling to open her eyes. It felt so good lying there between the smooth linen sheets as her body was warmed by their silken touch. Strange, she had never felt this tingling sensation of closeness before, such an
awareness
of her own body. Tentatively she laid a hand on her stomach and her eyes shot open wide in amazement. Where was her nightrail? She lifted the covers and peered down at her body. Oh, lord! She was naked!

Slowly the events of the previous evening came back to her. She was married—married to Jared Delaney—and last night, in this very bed he had...and then she had...and then he had—"
Oh, Lord
."

Her face flushed wildly as the full force of her recent activities was brought into clear focus, and she lifted her head to see if her new husband was still beside her. That slight movement sent a blinding pain across her forehead, and she sank back into the pillows before trying the maneuver again, this time more cautiously, then sighed her relief. She was alone, thank goodness. She needed time alone, to think, to refine on what had happened, to consider her reactions, perhaps even blush over her forwardness, her wanton abandon.

But first she craved to quench her burning thirst...

As if able to know what her new mistress desired, the door opened and a young housemaid bustled in balancing a tray holding a steaming cup of chocolate. Amanda hurriedly dove deeper under the covers in her embarrassment. After all, the maid had to know what she and Jared had been doing in this bed last night. The whole world probably knew!

"Mornin', milady, it's a beautiful mornin' to be a slugabed, ain't it? My name is Sally, milady. Lady Chezwick said I was to let you sleep as long as you wanted, but I got ter thinking you might want your chocolate now, it being gone eleven and all." She set the cup on the table next to the bed, curtsied briefly, and scurried out again, giggling behind her hand.

After eleven? She was sleeping the day away—the first day of her new life! Amanda sprang from the bed, ignoring the crashing cymbals in her head, and hastily donned her nightrail, which still lay on the floor near the fireplace. Sally must have seen it lying there, which added to Amanda's distress until she brought herself up short. Why was she so upset? She was Lady Storm now. "My lady," Sally had called her. And, drat it all, if "my lady" wanted to toss her nightrail into the fire, or hang it from the chandelier in the Great Hall, nobody was going to naysay her!

After sipping her chocolte, she rang for Sally. Quickly bathing at the basin, and once dressed in a sprigged muslin morning gown, she set off down the wide staircase in search of her husband, armored in the trappings of a young woman of fashion along with the comforting warmth of her new status of Married Lady.

What she found was Lady Chezwick firmly ensconced in the forbidding main salon, talking to herself under her breath.

The throbbing in Amanda's temples had faded and she was feeling remarkably better, well enough to enjoy the spectacle of her newly-acquired Aunt Agatha holding a fierce argument with herself.

"I won't do it, I don't care what Jared says. It's indecent. That's what it is, indecent. But on the other hand, what if he's right? Could I ever live with myself if I failed him in this? Oh, what am I going to do?" The fine cambric handkerchief in her lap was in shreds due to her agitation, and impetuously Amanda crossed to her, leaned over the back of the low couch, and planted a kiss on the woman's papery cheek.

"Why, Aunt Agatha, whatever can be the problem on such a glorious morning as this? I'm sure if Jared wants you to do something it is definitely for the best. My husband," her heart swelled in her breast at the word, "is a very clever man, and I'm certain he has your best interests at heart."

Lady Chezwick looked up at Amanda, her face full of hope. "Do you really feel that way, Amanda? Oh, that relieves my mind considerably. I never realized Jared could be as adamant as he was with me this morning. Why, he fairly raged at me when I refused to do as he commanded. I always knew Carlton had hurt him deeply, but I'd never supposed it would come to this."

Amanda could see the woman was upsetting herself again and quickly changed the subject to the one that interested her most at the moment—the whereabouts of her husband.

"Oh, he was here with me all morning, arguing I fear, but then a footman came in to tell him someone had arrived at the stables. Harrow? Arrow? Why, Amanda, where are you going? Higgins tells me you haven't eaten."

"I'll wait until luncheon now, Aunt Agatha. I must get to the stables," Amanda tossed over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.

Once outside, she located the stables easily and, hiking her skirts to an unladylike height, set off at a run. As she came in sight of the stables she skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight of her husband's shining black head towering over those of Harrow and Tom. She didn't think he would appreciate his new wife carrying on like an overjoyed schoolgirl at the sight of him. Lifting her chin, and hoping she looked every inch the
grande dame
, she then proceeded toward the sables at a leisurely walk.

#

Jared was the first to see Amanda as she delicately picked her way along the loose-stone path, and he searched her face for any sign that she had talked with his aunt. After giving him a shy smile she turned away, seeking out Harrow. No, Aggie couldn't have spoken with her as yet—otherwise, Amanda would have run at him, full of anger and questions.

He watched the old friends as they greeted each other, knowing that, to Amanda, Harrow was the father she'd lost, the brother she did not have, the playmate she had been denied. Tutor, companion, comforting shoulder, the relationship of mistress and servant had never occurred to either of them, so he frowned as she was brought up short by Harrow's deferential "Good morning, my lady."

"Harrow?" she questioned the man. "So formal? Is that any way to greet me?"

Harrow colored under his weathered skin and shifted back and forth in his dusty boots. "Things are different now. Yer the Lady Storm, Miss Mandy. I'm just a groom, and not even head groom at that. I know my place."

Amanda turned to her husband, her golden eyes glinting fire. "Jared, is this on your orders?"

"It certainly is not. I imagine Harrow thought up this bit of nonsense all by himself on his way here. How about it, Harrow? Is that any way to greet your Miss Mandy?"

"My lord?" Harrow was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "It wouldn't be proper to treat her ladyship as if she were still a child. If I am to live here, I must know my place."

Jared saw the tears in Amanda's eyes and addressed Harrow sharply. "Then learn it, Harrow. You, sir, are trying my patience mightily. My wife considers you her friend, and so do I. Your position here is without question; you are the new head groom, as I'm sending Barkham to London, charged with maintaining my stables there. I want you to concentrate on making Storm Haven's stables the best in all of England, which shouldn't be too difficult, not with Tempest in residence. Miss Amanda and I also entrust you with the care of that young scamp there, in the hopes you'll train him as your successor before you choose to retire. Tom seems to enjoy horses, and he appears an intelligent, if rather dirty, child. Now, if that's satisfactory to you, I would appreciate it if you would properly greet my wife and wipe that unhappy frown from her otherwise appealing face."

"Yes, my lord!" Harrow exclaimed, and opened his arms to Amanda as he had done when she had arrived at Fox Chase. And as she did then, Amanda flung herself upon him and hugged him fiercely. "Oh, Harrow, you old dear, you scared me so. I love you."

Then she placed a kiss on Tom's grimy cheek and ruffled his hair as he looked at her with embarrassingly adoring eyes. "Yes, I love you, too, scamp, but I confess to wondering what you look like under all this dirt. When I return here this afternoon to take Tempest out for a run I expect to be able to see your clean face, do you understand?"

"Aye, m'lady, aye, even if it hurts, m'lady," Tom agreed, obviously dreading his first contact with soap in a very long time.

As Jared and Amanda fell into step on their way back to the house for luncheon Jared inquired, "You slept well enough, Amanda?" Suddenly shy again, Amanda averted her eyes as she confirmed her good night's sleep. "But my head ached abominably this morning, my lord. Why was that, do you think?"

"That, my infant, is the price you must pay for being foxed."

"Me? Foxed? Oh, Jared, I was not! How dare you say such a thing? I distinctly remember you telling me that I was not drunk!"

"Well, maybe not completely foxed, but certainly a trifle tipsy. Enjoyably so, I might add."

"Oh," Amanda answered in a small voice. "Well, my head is much better now, so I suppose we won't have to speak of this again."

"Agreed." Jared stopped just outside the main doors of the house and put his hands on Amanda's shoulders, feeling stupid to ask his next question, but curiously unable to stop himself. "Not mentioning the wine, imp, may I dare to ask how you found the remainder of the evening? Was it the least bit enjoyable?"

Amanda averted her eyes. "I should be asking the same of you. Did I…did I disappoint you?"

Jared crushed her against his broad chest and cradled her head with his hands. "Disappoint me? Oh, Amanda, you could never do that. If last night pleasured you only half as much as it pleasured me you would be the happiest woman in England."

She tilted her head so that he could see her face as she answered, her eyes dancing with the mischief he loved so well, "In that case, my lord, I can only say that I pity every woman in England who is not me today."

How had she come to have this effect on him, this power over his mind, body, and heart? He pulled her closer, admitting just before their lips met, "I want you, Mandy. I want you so much. I'll never stop wanting you." They clung to each other, and only the sound of the big doors opening behind them brought them back to their surroundings.

"Good heavens, I seem to have done it again!" Aunt Agatha said, shaking her head. "Jared, you really must find a more private place to indulge in these torrid embraces. Think what would happen if the servants found you like this." As if to prove her point, the hovering butler was dealt a threatening look, and disappeared from behind her ladyship, quickly raising his eyes to inspect the chandelier. "As I was saying, Nephew, it's normal enough to indulge in a little madness—we all do sooner or later—but it might be wise if you exercised a modicum of restraint during the daylight hours, if you take my meaning."

Jared kept his gaze on Amanda, a devilish look dancing in his eyes. "Oh, shove off, Aggie or, as our young friend Tom would say, I'll give you a pop on your noggin."

"Jared! To talk to me like that! I wash my hands of you."

As Amanda tried desperately to keep a straight face Jared replied cheekily, "If only you would, dear aunt, if only you would. But I doubt it highly."