Bedding Lord Ned (33 page)

Read Bedding Lord Ned Online

Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
11.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Ellie, I—”
“I waited and hoped, but I didn't
do
anything. I was a coward, Ned.” She kicked off her slippers.
“No, you—”
He was watching her hair. She would give him something else to look at.
“I
was
, but I'm not now.” She put one leg up on the bed-steps. “I don't just want a husband, Ned. I've never just wanted a husband. I've always wanted you.” She started sliding her gown up her leg.
“Ellie, you shouldn't do that.” Ned's eyes were riveted on her hands as they inched up toward her knee.
“Do you know what you do to me, Ned? Do you have any idea what I'm feeling right now?” Her fingers reached her garter.
“Uh.” He swallowed. He might be panting just a little.
She smiled as she untied her garter and dropped it on the floor. Then she slid her stocking slowly down to her ankle and over her foot. Yes, he was definitely panting.
“I'm aching, Ned.” She peeled her other stocking off and dropped it next to its mate. “My heart aches for you, but another part of me does, too.” She turned to face him. “It's very hot and w-wet and needy.”
Ned groaned and closed his eyes. He was still fighting, blast it. What more could she do?
“Please, Ned? I'll beg if I have to.”
That did it. He was across the room in one stride. “Ellie,” he said. He looked—he sounded—like he was in pain. And then his mouth came down on hers.
Chapter 20
Never be bashful in bed.
—Venus's Love Notes
 
 
Ned's mouth crushed hers against her teeth; she made a small sound of protest, and he gentled the pressure at once.
Mmm, that was better. His lips brushed back and forth, making her lips feel swollen and tingly. Her heart stuttered, and the damp place between her legs pulsed. She arched into him, pressing against a very satisfying bulge—until he shifted his hips back.
That would never do. She tried to tug him closer—he resisted her efforts, damn it. Was he still trying to protect her? She didn't want to be protected.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed.
She had to push again to get his attention.
“W-what?” He blinked down at her.
“Time to get this lovely banyan off,” she said, reaching for the clasps. She wanted to see—and feel—his chest and shoulders.
His hands covered hers. “No.”
She tried to wiggle her fingers free. “What do you mean, no? I thought you'd agreed to ruin me.”
He frowned. “Will you stop saying that? I agreed to make love to you, but we don't have to remove our clothing to do that.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, perhaps it would be best if we didn't.”
She frowned at him. “Best for whom?”
“For you.” He cleared his throat again. “I believe it is customary for delicately-bred women not to be subjected to any sort of nakedness during the, er, lovemaking process.”
She gaped at him. “You're jesting, aren't you?”
His brows slanted down. “I am not.”
“Well, you should be.” She went back to trying to open his clasps; he stopped her again.
“Ellie, I think you should allow yourself to be guided by me. I don't want your sensibilities overwhelmed.”
She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “Ned, I am twenty-six years old. I may be a virgin, but I'm not some young, frightened miss. I've dreamt of this moment—well, not in detail, of course, since I am sadly lacking in experience—”
“There is nothing sad about that! Of course you don't have experience. You're the unmarried daughter of a vicar.”
“Yes, well, all right, I'll grant you that. But I am now going to get some experience, and I mean to get as much as I can. I
wish
to have my sensibilities overwhelmed.” She grinned at him. “So please stop trying to protect me.”
“But, Ellie, I'm not sure—”
She covered his mouth with her fingers. “
I'm
sure.” She moved her hand to cup his jaw. “I promise to ask for my vinaigrette if I feel a swoon coming on.”
That got him to laugh. “Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
“I won't.” She made quick work of his clasps. “And think how wonderfully superior you'll feel when I finally recover from my faint, and you can say you told me so.”
She pushed open the banyan and put her palms flat against the soft brown hair that covered his chest. She heard—and felt—him take a sharp breath; she felt his need beating against her hands with the beat of his heart. It was both frightening and exciting.
“Or perhaps you will be the one swooning,” she said.
He laughed breathlessly. “Perhaps.”
She ran her hands up over his chest, over the hard smooth muscles, to push the banyan off his shoulders. She couldn't quite manage to get it off his arms, so he helped. While he was occupied with that, she reached for the very interesting protuberance in the front of his drawers.
“Don't touch, Ellie.”
“Why? Does it hurt?” It certainly looked like it might. “It's a wonder you can get your breeches on.”
“Yes, it hurts.” Ned finally parted company with his banyan and dropped it on the floor. “And it is all your fault that I am in such a state.”
“My fault?” Ellie watched the thing bounce around. “I don't see how it can be my fault.”
“You'll understand shortly. Now we need to get you out of that lovely dress, since you insist on doing this naked. Turn around.”
“Very well.” She turned to face the bed, presenting Ned with her back.
His fingers skimmed over her arms and shoulders, and she shivered in anticipation.
“Damn fasteners,” he muttered. “They're so blasted tiny.”
“Careful—don't tear anything.” She bit her lip. She shouldn't have said that, but she didn't want the dress ruined, especially as she still needed to wear it tonight.
“Would you rather go downstairs now than risk your gown to my clumsy fingers?”
“No.” She glanced back at him—and her mouth went dry at the sight of his neck and shoulders. She turned to face the bed again. “Tear away.”
He chuckled. “I would hate to destroy this lovely gown. Let me see ... ah, yes. Here we go.”
It felt as if it took forever. Ned's fingers brushed and fumbled all over her body, until she was so weak with need she had to brace herself with her arms on the mattress. Finally the red dress and her stays lay draped over a chair. She started to turn toward him, but he stopped her, his hands sliding slowly up her legs, higher and higher, over her calves and knees and thighs. They lingered on her derriere and then moved up until she raised her arms and he pulled the chemise off her completely. She was finally naked except for the strand of pearls around her neck.
But her skin wasn't uncovered for long. Ned pressed against her back, one hand cupping her breast, the other tangling in her nether curls and curving over the aching place between her legs. He pulled her against him and nuzzled her neck.
She was trapped between his hands and his chest. The torture was exquisite.
“Perhaps you are right about this nakedness,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.
“But you aren't naked.” She pressed her derriere more tightly against his interesting bulge, still shielded from her by his drawers.
“You think I should remedy that situation?”
“Yes. Definitely. Immediately.”
“Very well.” He dropped his hands. “If you will give me a moment—”
“Let me.” She spun around and grabbed his waistband, untying its laces and pushing it down ... “Oh.” She cradled the long, thick organ that sprang free. It was smooth and hard and warm—and moved as if it had a life of its own.
Ned made an odd sound—part laugh, part groan—and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her up against him from breasts to knees. “I think,” he whispered, “that if you wish to complete your ruination, it's time to go to bed.”
She was very, very eager to be thoroughly ruined. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Except”—Ned stared down at her, serious now—“you will not really be ruined. If you climb into my bed and let me come into your body, Ellie, you are accepting me as your husband and I am taking you as my wife. We may be anticipating our public vows, but the promises we make to each other here tonight are as binding as if we'd spoken them in church before our parents, our families, and our friends—at least to me.”
She was serious, too. “So this is not to be some sensible, practical union?”
He laughed. “I did make mice feet of that damn conversation—I dare not call it a proposal—we had in the library, didn't I? No, our union may be sensible—I'm sure Mama and Father and my brothers think so. And I suppose it is practical. But it is so much more than that.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Ellie. I'd given up hope of ever loving again—no, I'll admit I was terrified of it—and now I find myself so filled with love”—he grinned at her—“I may explode if we don't do something about it very soon. So—will you marry me?”
She, too, was on the verge of bursting with her love for him. “Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you, Ned.”
She'd barely got the words out before he'd torn aside the coverlet and lifted her onto his bed. “Then let us proceed with the ceremony.”
Ned knelt next to Ellie and stared down at her. She'd stretched herself out on her back, arms wide, waves of brown hair flowing over his pillow, completely naked except for the single strand of milky white pearls around her neck. Her flawless skin almost glowed against his dull sheets. His heart—and another organ—clenched with love and desire.
She was perfect. She was all that he could ever wish for—his past, his present, and his future.
But what if they made a child tonight? What if in nine month's time—
His cock drooped in despair. How could he risk losing her?
He couldn't.
“Are you worrying, Ned?” She gently touched his softened member. “You look ... sad.”
He felt the feather-light touch as though it were a spark. He saw Ellie's eyes widen as his cock stirred, if only feebly. He laughed, but he felt more like crying.
“Perhaps I
am
worrying a little.” He cleared his throat. Why be evasive? Ellie knew him too well. “Or a lot.”
“Don't.” She rested her hand on his thigh. Just having her fingers nearby gave his poor organ hope. “I want children, Ned. I want them so much I was willing to consider marrying a man just to be a mother.” She smiled, shaking his thigh slightly, enough to make his hopeful cock move. “But I would much, much rather have your children.”
Now her fingers were stroking his thigh, coming very, very close to—
He jerked his attention back to the matter at hand—no, poor choice of words. He forced himself to remember the greater concern, to think with his big, not his little, head. “But what if you—” He couldn't say it. “What if something bad happens?”
Ellie sat up. His eyes dropped to watch her lovely, small breasts sway with the motion. He might be concerned for her safety, but he
was
male, damn it.
“Ned.” She touched his jaw, and he raised his gaze to meet hers. “I can't promise you that nothing bad will happen. Life's not like that. But I'm willing to take the risk. I
want
to so I can hold my child—our child—in my arms.”
His cock leapt at that thought, eager to be about the business of giving her what she wanted.
He frowned, ignoring as best he could his thoughtless organ. “I want that, too, Ellie, but I want you more. I love you too much. If I were to lose you, if I'm ever forced to watch you die as I watched Cicely, unable to do a thing to save you—” His throat closed up, and his unruly member deflated to lie cowed and limp between his thighs. Nothing could resurrect the poor thing now.
He was wrong.
Ellie's face hardened with determination. “I love you, too, Ned. I would do anything for you, but I won't let you hide from life.”
“You don't understand. You
can't
understand.”
“Maybe I can't. But I do understand I spent far too long hoping and wanting and not
doing
anything to make what I wanted happen.” She brushed her lips over his. “I'm not going to make that mistake again. You're not leaving this bed until I've thoroughly ravished you.”
That made him laugh. “Don't be—Ellie!”
She'd bent her head to kiss his poor organ. He should shove her away. He put his hands on her head to do so, but somehow his fingers got trapped in the silky depths of her hair and ended up holding her where she was instead.
“Does that hurt?” Her whispered words caressed his growing flesh.
“No, but you shouldn't—ohh.”
Her tongue flicked out over him.
He couldn't help it—he spread his thighs to give her more room. He tried to remember why she shouldn't do this, but the sensation of her wet tongue stroking him scrambled all coherent thought.

Other books

A Season in Gemini, Intro by Victoria Danann
The Sentinel by Holly Martin
Hands of the Ripper by Adams, Guy
The Chase by Lynsay Sands
Sleeping On Jupiter by Roy, Anuradha
Mists of Dawn by Chad Oliver
Onyx Dragon (Book 1) by Shawn E. Crapo
Set Me Free by London Setterby