Dreaming (41 page)

Pain burned up into her belly and shot down her quivering legs. She thought she might have screamed, but his mouth was on hers.

She tried to shove him off and out of her. “It hurts! Please . . . it hurts.”

“God . . . Hold still.” He grabbed her hips and forced her to lay there. Their breaths came in tattered bursts, and tears rolled from her eyes, over her temples and into her hair.

He looked at her as if he too was in pain. “I’m so sorry.” And he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her temples. His lips went to her ear and he whispered, “I would take the pain myself if I could.”

His hands left her hips and tenderly held her head as he kissed her softly again and again. He still filled her, deeply, fully, but he didn’t move and she didn’t feel the sharpness of pain, only a dull ache that was fading and distant.

They kissed for long minutes, tasting and tonguing and savoring being one.

“Does it still hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Try to lower your legs.”

She slid her feet down alongside his thighs, knees, and calves. Her pointed toes only touched his ankles. She was thinking about how long his legs were when he moved slowly and she thought he intended to pull out of her. She exhaled, but he slowly sank back inside.

“Does that hurt you?”

She shook her head.

He did so again. Her breath caught.

He froze. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You’re not hurting me.”

He began to move, shifting and flexing, raising himself up on his forearms. She slid her hands up those arms and over his shoulders, her palms measuring the hard feel of his muscles and tendons, the powerful strength in those arms.

Her hands slid back down, a little awestruck at the rough feel of the hair on his arms, and she touched his wrists and the bones beneath his skin. Then her hands rubbed over his. She rested her palms on top of his splayed hands, feeling his hands flex with each thrust of his lower body.

He moaned her name, then pulled himself up higher, changing the angle of his penetration so that when he was completely within her she could feel the rise of that wondrous thrill again, the flames that licked inside her. Soon he was moving faster, deeper, and her name was a litany from his lips.

She raised her knees instinctively, and he arched his back with a deep motion and grasped her hips in his strong hands. Still he moved and moved, but his chest was atop her now and his head was buried in her neck, while he thrust and his hands gripped her thighs so he could move her body with his.

He said things, incoherent things, about heat and tightness and the feel of her. His words grew more graphic, the images they painted elemental and earthy, and she grew flashed listening to him, her body sweating as his did, and the core of her felt as if she were melting.

Her gasps grew again, and though her eyes were open, she saw nothing. She moved her head faster and faster and he held her hips hard, pulled her closer, moving quicker and building things inside her she could never describe.

His urgent words told her to come again, but she was beyond thought. There was only sensation, only the feeling he was stirring so deep inside her, the melting, the fire, and, finally, a burst of something beyond pleasure.

It went on forever, a lifetime of beating hearts.

He shouted once, then arched his back, his groin wedged solidly against her. And deep inside she felt him pulse as his life flowed into her.

She gazed up at him. His head was thrown back and his neck muscles strained, his eyes were closed and his mouth spread wide with a moan of release.

Time passed in glacial minutes. He lay atop her, his body limp, his possession complete. His head buried in her neck, she could feel his breaths sharp and static against her ear. Their hearts beat together, fast at first, then slower and slower, as their breathing became normal.

Beneath her palms his back muscles were hard and the skin damp. All around her was scent and sensation. The tickle of hair on his body. The musky odor of their loving, mixing together in a scent that was like wood smoke and heather, with an exotic touch of sandalwood.

She lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling, feeling the quietness of her husband breathing and the weight and breadth of his possession.

Richard was no god, no young girl’s idol. He was a man, flesh and bone, yet his hold on her was more powerful than if he were a deity. She knew with a surety that from this very moment in her life there was no turning back to the past.

The reality of what they’d shared, their bodies coming together, made every dream she’d ever dreamed, every wish she’d ever wished, every foolish thought in her youthful head pale in comparison.

She had come to him as a child and thought herself in love. She had come to him as a young woman and thought she’d found the other half of her soul. But now she came to him as his wife and found something so far beyond love and souls that there were no words for it.

Time and thoughts seemed to drift away and she closed her eyes, not opening them again until he stirred slightly. She wondered how long they had lain there. She knew she could stay like this forever.

She lay there savoring the memory of what had passed between them. After a few minutes she said, “Richard?”

He muttered something into her neck.

“Where did you want me to go?”

“Hmmm?”

“Where did you want me to go?”

“When?”

“A while ago.”

He lifted his head and stared down at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t understand where you wanted me to come.”

He actually flushed slightly before he groaned a curse and buried his head in her shoulder.

“Never mind,” he said into her neck.

She was quiet again, listening to the crackling fire, the utter quiet that surrounded them. After a moment’s thought she said, “Richard?”

He groaned. “Yes?”

“How many times have you done this?”

He was quiet.

She turned her head. “Richard?”

“Be patient. I’m counting.”

“Oh.” She waited. The seconds turned to minutes, and still he didn’t answer. “Are you still counting?”

“
Shhh
. You’ll make me lose count.”

She frowned, and waited.

She sighed, and waited.

She sighed again. “Aren’t you done yet?”

He gave a direct look. “Yes.”

“How many?”

“A million and one.”

Her jaw dropped.

His shoulders began to shake. He was laughing.

“You wretch!” She squirmed.

He grasped her hands and held her in place, looking down at her with amusement. “No. I miscounted. Not a million and one.”

He threaded his fingers through hers and shifted his body so they were firmly joined. He lowered his head, his mouth a breath away. “A million and two.”

Chapter 24

The minute she heard Gus’s bark
Letty
was out the front door and down the steps. Gus made a flying leap from the driver’s box and thudded to the ground, then he ran around the wagon three times, to the annoyance of the driver and the footmen, who were trying to unload
Letty’s
trunks. The wagon team shifted and sidestepped while Gus sped around them, stirring up dust and gravel and trouble.

It took
Letty
about five minutes to calm him down, then he was happily trotting by her side as she remounted the steps to introduce him to their new home.

She entered the house and a second later there was screech. Gus bolted past her, running after one of the kitchen cats.

“Gus!”

The cat shot up the staircase with her dog close behind, heading straight for the landing, where a footman struggled with a trunk that was hiked on his shoulder.

“Gus! No!”

He bounded after the cat, running right between the man’s legs.

The trunk went down first. The footman second.

Sprawled in the foyer in a tumble of green livery was Harry, his expression dazed and his
stubbled
head half covered in a crooked periwig. He was still sporting the faded bruise of his black eye.

Letty
rushed over to him. “Are you hurt?”

Harry raised himself up a little, blinked once, then shook his head. “No harm done, my lady.” He gave her a crooked grin, the first one he’d ever given her. “As ye know, I’ve got me a hard head.”

“I suppose you needed one around me, didn’t you?”

“’
Tweren’t
so bad. Never cared much for eyebrows, and I can swim. Besides, ye and the earl, well, your lord gave me a position and a warm bed. Said I had them for as long as I wanted. Never had no one be kind to me afore. I’ll be the best
bleedin
’ mother of a footman
ye’ll
ever see.”

He started to get up.

“Oh, Harry, you poor sweet man!” An apple-cheeked maid came running down the stairs. “Beg pardon, my lady.” She knelt beside Harry, who was suddenly lying flat again, and she pulled his head to her bosom. “Are you hurt terribly?”

Harry went limp.

“Speak to me, Harry,” the maid pleaded.

He gave a low moan.

“Oh, you’ll let
Gertie
take care of you, now won’t you.” She looked up at
Letty
. “Never you worry, my lady. I’ll keep good care of this poor sweet man.”

Letty
peered over the maid’s shoulder. The maid held Harry’s
stubbled
head to her breast and was stroking his brow. He opened one eye, the black one; the other, along with his nose, was buried in the woman’s ample bosom. “Oh, you’re awake. Can you move, my poor dear man?”

“Not
fer
a minute or two,” Harry said weakly, his words muffled against her breast.

The maid cooed, pulling his head higher up her chest, and Harry looked right at
Letty
. He gave a wicked wink, then closed his eyes and groaned another low moan.

Letty
bit back a smile. Now she understood Harry’s appreciation of a warm bed.

She turned and went after Gus. Richard had told her at breakfast that the men had all been settled into positions. The estate was sorely in need of employees, since no one had lived there for over two years.

Like Harry, Simon and
Schoostor
were employed at the house, except that Richard had given strict orders to keep them away from the family silver.

Phineas
,
Philbert
, and
Phelim
were repairing cottages on the estate until a small herd of dairy cattle could be brought in from
Jersey
. The brothers would lease a section of land and repay Richard from their profits once they had the dairy up and running.

It seemed that everyone was settled in but Gus. She could hear him thundering down a hallway. At the top of the second floor she turned left, past the hallway into a section of the house she hadn’t yet explored.

“Gus? Gus!” she called. He answered with a bark.

She moved down a wide hallway into a large receiving area. The room was shaped in a hexagon, with doors on only three walls. Medieval armor stood like guards between each door, and along the walls were old tapestries and weapons.

She stood before a suit of armor, imagining Richard as a knight carrying her favor. She smiled. He would have made a wonderful knight.

She turned and looked at each of the doors. Curious, she opened one and saw a sitting room, the furniture within still in covers. The room was dark and dank and smelled as if it hadn’t been used in years.

Wrinkling her nose, she shut the door and moved to the next set of doors. Inside was a dining hall with a table that stretched to forever and a line of high-backed chairs along one wall. It too hadn’t been used recently, from what she could tell.