A Seven Year Hitch (29 page)

“So it was!”

“Can I ride in your curricle on the way home, Trevellyn?” asked Sophie after everyone had enjoyed a late luncheon at the King’s Arms and were preparing for their homeward journey. Ross looked at Erica who smiled and said.

“I shall enjoy a cosy chat with my Aunts and Uncle,” she told him. “Just don’t let her persuade you to let her take the reins or you will end up in the ditch, for sure.”

On that warning, she climbed in to the carriage and sat beside Aunt Clara and opposite Aunt Hebe and Uncle William. As a concession to the warmth of the day, the roof had been lowered, and as the carriage pulled away Aunt Hebe unfurled her parasol and looked across at her niece who was enjoying the warm rays on her face, her bonnet placed on the seat beside her.

“I know you dislike wearing a hat Erica, but have you no parasol to protect your complexion?”

“I’m afraid not, Aunt. My complexion is beyond redemption so I feel I might as well enjoy the sun on my face.”

“It is not beyond redemption, child. A generous application of my cucumber lotion will, given time, reduce the number of freckles.”

“Never mind all that,” Aunt Clara dismissed the topic of conversation. “You’ll never get her to agree to stay out of the sun. What I want to know is what is going on between her and Trevellyn?”

Both Aunts and Uncle William looked at Erica who smiled benignly at them and said, “He likes my freckles.”

“I thought he was considering making Charlotte an offer, but he is definite
ly showing more interest in you,” Aunt Hebe stated, and Erica wondered if she might be put out at Ross’ apparent defection, although there was no indication of this in either tone or expression.

“
Charlotte would never suit Trevellyn. Besides her interest lies elsewhere,” Uncle William remarked, winking at Erica who smiled at him.

“But we are not talking about
Charlotte. I want to know whether there is an understanding between the two of you,” Aunt Clara would not be deterred.

“We understand one another tolerably well, Aunt Clara. He likes to think he can get the better of me and I know he cannot. Think back to the pillow fight.”

“You are deliberately evading my questions girl,” Aunt Clara wagged a finger at her. “So I’ll be more direct. Has he proposed to you?”

“No Aunt he has not. And before you ask, no he will not be proposing in the future, near or otherwise.”

“How can you be so sure? The man is forever seeking you out and even this morning, I found him outside your bedroom door asking Gerald how you were feeling.”

“I am sure,
Aunt. There will be no proposal,” Erica stated so firmly that Aunt Clara accepted there would be nothing more forthcoming and decided to leave the subject for the time being. Conversation became general, allowing Erica to relax her guard and enjoy the rest of the journey. As she was rear facing, she could see Trevellyn driving his vehicle behind them and inwardly chuckled when she saw Sophie chatting away relentlessly. From the way she kept touching his arm and smiling up at him, Erica deduced that she was attempting to flirt and from his expression he was finding the whole experience tedious.

             
Ross frowned when Sophie placed her gloved hand upon the well-tailored sleeve of his dark blue superfine jacket for the umpteenth time and made a mundane comment about his skill with the ribbons. He realized she was practising her wiles on him but was not in the right frame of mind to humour her and play along. Ahead of him, he could see Erica conversing with her relatives and wondered about the subject matter. He suspected that she would probably get a grilling from Aunt Clara about him but if that were so, his wife gave no indication that she was in any way perturbed by it. His mind wandered to the night they had just spent together and a smile hovered as he thought about making love to her again. He was determined to entice her into her private sitting room just as soon as they arrived back at Monksleigh, and spent a few moments in pleasant contemplation of how she would look, naked and aroused on one of the comfy old sofas.

“You have not been listening have you?” Sophie’s allegation pierced Trevellyn’s reveries and he glanced at her with a start.

“You have not heard a word I have been saying, have you?” she accused him and at his guilty expression. “Do not bother lying to me, your face tells me I am right.”

“I am sorry, Sophie
,” he put on his most contrite look. “I was momentarily distracted.”

“Momentarily? You have hardly paid me any attention since we left The King’s arms in
Dorchester so I would hardly call that momentarily,” she said, totally peeved with him.

“My humble apologies,
”  Ross turned his most charming smile on her; the one that had melted the hearts of even the frostiest ton matron but to no avail, Sophie was too miffed to notice.

“To think that I complimented you on your handling on the ribbons and how beautiful your matching greys are. I might as well have saved my breath!”

“Would you like me to stop the curricle, climb down and kneel in the dirt in order to beg your forgiveness?” he tried humour and at last managed to sooth her rustled feathers. She laughed and told him that was exactly what she wanted.

“What has you wool-gathering anyway?” she asked, “Or should I say whom?”

“Just thinking about the wonderful scenery Dorset has to offer!” he told lightly, to which she gave him a look of disdain.

“Are you still thinking of marrying
Charlotte?” she asked directly.

“No, and I am not going to discuss my marriage with an infan
t.” he said repressively.

“I am not an infant and why not?” she retorted hotly, then more convivially “I think you are wise not marrying
Charlotte for I think she may be in love with Michael. Erica has always shied away from marriage so it would not be any good for you to consider her. That only leaves me. Do you want to marry me?”

Trevellyn involuntarily yanked on the reins, startling the horses that were not used to such cow-handedness.

“Do watch what you are about, Trevellyn, or you will damage their mouths,” Sophie told him, once more putting her hand upon his sleeve.

“Sophie, I do hope your mother will be teaching you some decorum before releasing you on the ton and the London Season. Young ladies do not go around proposing to gentlemen whilst they are driving their curricles, or indeed at any other time. And many would take umbrage at your criticizing of their driving!”

“But we all know you are looking for a suitable bride so if you thought about Charlotte, why not me?”

“Alas, as lovely as you are, I fear I am too old for you, Sophie.”

“I did think twice about offering to marry you because you are rather old, but lots of girls marry men old enough to be their fathers.”

“I’m not that old!” Ross was most put out but then remembered that he was not trying to encourage her. “Or perhaps I am. You would be much better picking a young man from the huge crop who will be presented to you in the ballrooms of
London. Someone not likely to lose their hair anytime soon or suffer from gout,” he was beginning to warm to his theme.

“You are not in danger of losing your hair!” she retorted, eyeing his thick and at present windswept locks.

“My valet despairs,” he lied. “Every morning great chunks fall out and it is only a testament to his great skill that no-one has yet noticed my receding hairline. And as for the gout; I get very grumpy when my foot swells up and would expect my wife to massage it for me no matter how much I might yell at her.”

Sophie looked askance and said. “Yes, you are too old. I withdraw my offer, Trevellyn, I will not marry you.”

Ross smiled with relief as he turned into the gates of Monksleigh and the remainder of the journey along the drive was made in silence.

             
Ten minutes later Ross grabbed his wife around her waist and spun her into an embrace, kissing her hungrily whilst with one hand he closed and locked the door to her private sitting room. Task done, he turned his attention to the fastenings on the back of her dress never breaking the kiss as he deftly made his way down the row of tiny pearl buttons, unhooking them until the gown slipped from her shoulders and with a whisper, pooled at her feet. Ross lost no time in divesting her of her chemise and he stood back to admire the results of his handiwork. Erica stood before him naked apart from her stockings, and blushing rosily as she became aware of her state of undress. With one arm, she shielded her breasts from his gaze and used her hand to cover her curls but Ross gently but inexorably tugged them away.

“No. I love your body, your glorious curves, let me look.”

“It is hardly fair with you standing there fully clothed,” she told him but in truth she found it rather erotic to have him look at her with such love and passion. With scant regard for his valet’s feelings, Ross quickly removed his coat and dropped it to the floor, before stripping off his cravat and tossing it aside. He then touched her, lightly trailing his fingers over her sensitive skin, drawing lines of fire and inflaming her growing desires. She felt the familiar wetness growing between her legs and wondered if she would be able to remain standing.

             
Stepping closer to her, Ross placed his hands on her beautifully rounded bottom and pulled her up and into him so that she could feel his erection through his clothes. Gently kneading her buttocks he claimed her mouth once more in a deep and demanding kiss, pressing her into him so their bodies were flush, and he could feel her breasts rubbing against his shirt.

             
The sofas looked inviting but Ross loved the feel of her pressed against his upright form and so, lifting her up slightly, he directed her to wrap her legs around him. When she complied he carried her to the wall and leaned her against it. Quickly releasing the fastenings on his breeches, Ross shifted his position and then entered her damp opening, thrusting deep so that in one move he was completely buried in her. Only then did he move back a little so that he could look into her eyes.

“I love you,
” he told her, holding still and luxuriating in the intimacy of his member being fully embedded within her.

“I love you, too
,” she told him breathlessly, tensing her muscles around him so that he groaned. He began to set the pace of their lovemaking, rhythmically stoking the passion until increasing the speed they both climaxed together, crying out as they were swept away on the intense pleasure of their act.

             
Breathing heavily from his recent exertions, Ross carried her to a sofa and collapsed down so that she was lying on top of him. He kept his arms around her, lightly caressing her back, from the nape of her neck to the curve of her bottom. Having undone the buttons of his shirt, she in turn stroked his chest as she lay with her head upon it; the covering of fine hair tickling her cheek. She marvelled at the strength contained in his firm muscles and the feel of his body, so different from her own, soft form. They remained contentedly cocooned in each other’s arms, not speaking for a few moments and then with a sigh, Erica raised her head, placing her chin on his chest so that she could look up at his face.

“I wish we could stay here like this, but we will be missed if we don’t make a move soon.”

“Five more minutes,” he murmured, raising a hand to pull the ribbon from her hair and playing with the riot of chestnut curls as they cascaded around her shoulders and down her back.  Erica was content to acquiesce to his wishes, and softly pressed light kisses to his chest and jaw, savouring the harmony that enveloped them.

“As much as I enjoy the company of your family, I am counting the hours until
I can have you all to myself,” he told her then said. “On our honeymoon, I may have to insist that you wear your hair down all the time.”

“Not very practical, I am afraid, it would get very much in the way.”

“Not for what I have in mind,” Ross smiled, pinching her bottom.

Erica raised her head and kissed him lingeringly before getting up and retrieving her clothes. While she dressed, Ross lay with his hands behind his head, watching her, again marvelling at the fates that had brought them together.

“Can you help me with the buttons?” she asked, turning her back towards him and holding her hair out the way. “And please hurry. We really must join the others.”

              “Good morning, Miss Wilmshurst. Did you enjoy a good night?” Ross greeted Erica, as though he had not left her bed just an hour before.

“Yes thank you, My Lord. I trust y
ou enjoyed a pleasant night too?” she asked in return, with a twinkle in her eye.

“It is not natural for you to be nice to each other. It makes me incredi
bly nervous,” Fiona said looking from one to the other with great suspicion.

“Trevellyn is being meticulously polite and as his hostess
I can hardly be rude in return,” Erica airily explained, whilst helping herself to a large serving of breakfast. “I find that I am quite famished this morning, it must be all the excitement of the past couple of days,” she said, taking a seat halfway along the table.