Far Beyond Scandalous (32 page)

Gibson had touched her between her
legs before, but not like this.
 
Not as
two people who were truly lovers sharing all of themselves.
 
At the first hard stroke of his fingers over
her sensitive nub, Amy let out a keening cry and came apart in his
embrace.
 
He held her close until she
had recovered enough to rise up on her elbows.

"Is that all there is, my dear
doctor?" she teased saucily, though the expression on her face said that
she had already been well satisfied.
 
"I have heard so very many stories about the depravity of the
act.
 
Yet that seemed like much ado
about nothing."

"Wench," he growled,
doing his best not to simply pin her to the bed and plunge inside of her.
 
His cock was literally aching, and he did
not know how much longer he could hold himself back.
 
There was only so much of a gentleman left inside of him.
 
"There is more awaiting you, and you
well know it.
 
I was merely trying to be
gentle."

She gazed up at him with those
lovely blue eyes, so full of longing and another emotion that he did not dare
guess at.
 
"Do not be gentle,
Gibbs.
 
I want you.
 
All of you.
 
Do not feel as if you have to hold back with me."

After that, he did
not
hold
back, not at all, exploring the secrets of her womanhood, dipping his fingers
inside of her sweetness repeatedly, teasing her until once more, she was
panting with need, her body tightening in anticipation of the desire still to
come.

Seeing her pleasure made his heart
swell with what could only be love.
 
This was right.
 
She
had
been right, or right for him anyway.
 
More than that, he
loved
her - truly and deeply.
 
Forever, even if she was not by his
side.
 
And whatever happened tomorrow,
they would have this one perfect night.
 
No one, not society or the crown or her family or anyone else could take
it away from them.

In turn, Amy explored Gibson's body
like the innocent that she was.
 
She
glided her fingers over the dips and curves of his muscles, relishing the feel
of his crisp hair beneath her fingertips.
 
It was so different than the hair on his head, which she took great
pleasure in brushing back from his forehead every time he moved over her to
shower her body in more kisses.

She slid her palms over his thighs
with gentle caresses on her way to exploring his cock once more.
 
Velvety soft, yet so hard at the same time,
it was truly her favorite part of his body.
 
If that made her a wanton, so be it.
 
She did not care.
 
She loved to
touch him, loved the way his face broke into a small smile and he drew in a
sharp breath with each caress and press of her lips to the engorged tip.

Gibson brought Amy to the peak of
pleasure twice more while she lay beside him, allowing him liberties he never
imagined would be his.
 
He used his
fingers and his tongue, the same way he had in the park, to tease sighs of
delight from her, pressing her higher and higher each time, ensuring that for
her, this was nothing but perfection.

Amy had no idea how much time had
passed, only that sooner than she realized, she was panting, her heart racing,
and a deep, throbbing ache growing quickly between her legs.
 
Her breasts ached and her hips undulated of
their own volition.
 
She was restless
and needy.
 
She wanted to make love with
Gibson.
 
Now.
 
No more waiting.

This was the moment.
 
She knew it in her heart.
 
It was not magic and fairy dust, some
romantic notion that was spun sugar sweet, as she had believed when she was a
child.
 
Love was raw and passionate and
hungry.
 
And it was all the more
precious to her because she was sharing it with the man she loved.

Thomas Overton might have pierced
her barrier, technically robbing her of her innocence, but he had not made love
to her.
 
No man ever had.
 
That honor belonged to Gibson and him
alone.
 
It always would.

"Gibson," Amy moaned as
he nibbled on her throat, his tongue tracing maddening circles on her
flesh.
 
"I need you.
 
Please."

He rose up on his forearms and
looked down at her, his eyes heavy with desire.
 
She could feel his cock throbbing against her thigh.
 
"Are you certain, my love?
 
It will be difficult, but I will stop now if
you like."

"No."
 
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her
hands gripping his forearms tightly as her nails dug into his flesh.
 
"I want you.
 
Only you and no other."
 
Then she arched her hips up to brush against his still-throbbing cock,
and she felt the wetness there.
 
He was
ready, too.
 
Probably beyond ready, if
the stories she had heard for years were true.
 
"Please.
 
Do not make me
beg.
 
I love you, Gibson.
 
Do not deny me this."

At her words, his heart broke, full
of emotion as it was.
 
He should say
those words back to her, but he could not.
 
It would be cruel to show her all of this, to allow her to hear the
truth of what was in his heart, only to remind her in the next breath that this
was only for one night.
 
That they could
never truly have what she longed for.
 
What they both longed for.

Instead, he settled himself between
her legs, pressing the tip of his erection against her entrance.
 
"I will try not to hurt you, Amy.
 
You mean everything to me.
 
So much more than you will ever know."
 
Then he eased himself inside of her slowly.

He was big.
 
Far bigger than Amy had anticipated.
 
She wasn't certain that her body could
accommodate his, but she didn't want him to stop either.
 
Instead, she simply spread her legs farther,
the way she had heard whispered about in the ladies' retiring rooms and tried
to relax.

She was tight.
 
So damn tight.
 
Gibson knew he was large, larger than most men, really, but he
hadn't anticipated just how large until he slid into Amy's body.
 
She was also a virgin, in name if not in
truth.
 
The women he had lain with
before, scant few as they were?
 
They
weren't.
 
He would cause Amy pain.
 
There was no help for it.
 
So the next time she flexed her hips beneath
his, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss and slid all the way inside of
her, seating himself as deeply as he could.

Then he stopped and held himself
still, reveling in the feeling of finally being inside of the woman he
loved.
 
This was right, and his heart
filled with the knowledge that he would forever be her first lover.
 
No matter what man she eventually married,
no other could claim this privilege.

Amy screamed as she felt Gibson
slide inside of her, but he swallowed her cries with his kisses.
 
There was no maidenhead to tear, but in
truth, she had never had a man's cock fully inside of her.
 
And it hurt - far more than she had imagined
it would.
 
Gibson held himself as still
as possible, allowing her to adjust to his body before he pulled back.

"Are you well, my love?"
he asked, fear and concern shining in his eyes.
 
Though he had not said that he loved her, the truth was plainly
visible, at least to Amy.

"I think so."
 
She wiggled her hips a bit, as the pain
began to ease, which elicited a groan from Gibson.
 
"It isn't..."
 
How did she tell him this wasn't what she had thought sex might be like.
 
She had heard stories of the glory of sex,
of how perfect it was, how magical and wonderful it felt, especially when the
act was performed with the man a woman loved.
 
Perhaps there was something wrong with her after all, for she did not
feel any of those things.
 
It just felt
uncomfortable.

Then Gibson flexed his hips, and
Amy's eyes flew open wide with surprise.
 
Not to mention a little bit of delight.
 
"Oh!"
 
He moved
again, this time sliding his cock out of her slick sheath before pushing back
in again, slower this time.
 
So slow
that she could feel every heated inch of him.
 
"Oh, my.
 
That
is...nice."
 
There had to be a
better word for what she was feeling, but at the moment, she could not think of
one that even came close.

"Nice?" he growled as he
thrust again, harder this time, pushing himself in deeper, eliciting a moan
from Amy.
 
"I will give you nice,
my love.
 
And so much more."
 
Then he broke into a smile and began to work
himself up to a steady, pounding rhythm.

With each stroke, Amy began to move
far beyond "nice" and into "exquisite" territory.
 
As he took her, he kissed her lips, her
nose, her chin, any place he could reach.
 
The more she relaxed, the better Gibson felt inside of her until she was
moving with him, her hips bucking and shimmying beneath his, her fingers
digging into his back as she sought more.
 
More of everything but especially more of Gibson.
 
And he needed to know it.

She confessed her love for him
again as he rode her hard, his body pressing hers back into the bed, confessing
his love for her in the only way he felt that he could.
 
And with each thrust, he took her to a place
where their bodies and spirits joined.
 
That was love, real and true, and she repeated those words like a chant,
over and over, praying that he would finally let go and believe.
 
She wanted him to know that he was worthy.

She was a hellion in bed.
 
God, he loved her.
 
Those two things were all Gibson could think of as he took her
delectable body over and over again, pushing her closer to the edge of
release.
 
Still, it was not enough.
 
She needed more.
 
She wasn't there yet and he was so very close.

He reached down between them and
found the pearl of her pleasure.
 
He
stroked her, slowly at first and then quicker, but not too hard so that it hurt
or made her uncomfortable.
 
Just the
right amount of pressure to send her spiraling into the ultimate pleasure.

The first wave of pleasure began
slow, building gradually inside of Amy, but before she knew it, she was rushing
headlong into oblivion, a feeling of need spiraling out from the very center of
her.
 
Her body contracted hard and fast
around Gibson's cock, and from someplace inside of her that she had never known
existed, she came in a rush, her body rising up to meet his thrust for thrust.

He was right behind her, spilling
his seed into her body, never thinking about pulling out.
 
As a doctor he knew the consequences of what
he was doing, knew that it was a risk.
 
He could get her with child.
 
As
a man, he decided to take a chance and let fate decide.
 
He loved her.
 
In the end, that was all that mattered.

Society
Tales

The sinfully handsome and exceedingly
swoon-worthy "Viscount of Mystery" has returned to London and is
causing a stir already!
 
Lord M.C., the
aforementioned Viscount B., has returned from Bath and is setting the ladies'
hearts aflutter mere hours after his arrival.
 
No matter their marital status!
 
It also appears that, contrary to rumors, the viscount's vision has not
been completely lost, which, I'm certain is a boon to all women
everywhere.
 
For how could he pick his
ladylove - which he is certain to do now that he has returned to society - if
he cannot see her?
 
While this author
knows it is possible, she also knows that it is better to see with one's own
eyes - and heart -
 
than to be surprised
by what one cannot see.

As for the supposed scandal
brewing around Lady A., the viscount's sister, well, I can only say, what
scandal?
 
The viscount confirmed to all
of society last evening that one Doctor G.B. was, in fact, escorting Lady A. at
the family's direction
and
that the family considers him a dear and
close friend.
 
Did I not already tell
you so, my faithful readers?
 
As for the
insults hurled at both the lady and the doctor in question, well, let us just
say that Lord N.D. has been known to overindulge in the bottle when he is
denied what he wants.
 
And after last
evening, it is abundantly clear that the last thing the viscount and his family
want is the notorious rake as a part of their family!

- Lady X

"Do we have any idea who Lady
X is?"
 
Marcus pushed the gossip
sheet aside and picked up his teacup.
 
If it felt at all odd for him to be back at the family breakfast table,
he did not show it, much to Amy's confusion.
 
In many ways, he was behaving as if he had never been gone.
 
"I have to admit that I do like her
style.
 
Not to mention the fact that she
champions our family exceptionally well.
 
She seems to have the right of everything in society, actually."

"I do not know, but I believe
Dr. Blackwell does."
 
Amy was
trying hard to adjust to Marcus' return, but it was not as easy or as joyful as
she had imagined it would be.
 
She was
desperate to hide what she and Gibson had done the night before from her
family.
 
Though she was also fairly
certain that no one could tell she had been well and truly tumbled - some would
say ruined - merely by looking at her.
 
Yet she could not be sure.

There was nothing in any of the
gossip sheets this morning to indicate that she had been spotted entering
Gibson's home or returning to Cheltenham House in the hour just before
dawn.
 
Then again, those were not the place
social spies tended to hang out, even if she
had
felt that peculiar
sensation of being watched from the moment she had left the townhome.
 
Still, there was nothing in print, so she
doubted that anyone knew.
 
If they had,
that would have surely trumped the news of Marcus' return.

Which, he had informed her a few
minutes earlier, they would talk about later, as he was not quite in the mood
to discuss the issue.
 
That included
inquiries about his sight.
 
Or his
partial lack thereof.

Amy was, however, still terrified
that with one look, Marcus would somehow know what she had done, as if it was
branded on her soul.
 
As her older
brother, he had always been able to read her so easily, and know when she was
up to no good.
 
In the deep of the
night, she had been brave, but in the hard light of day, it was not so easy to
be fearless, she was quickly discovering.

Last night, she might have been a
seductress, but today, she was back to being The Paragon.
 
For all of her brave words to Gibson, she
was, in many ways, no better than he was when going after what she wanted.

Gibson.
 
Her heart lurched every time she thought of him.
 
He had returned her home in the early light
of day, and then disappeared into the rapidly growing dawn.
 
He hadn't said good-bye, but then, she
wasn't certain that she had wanted him to.
  
A farewell, even for the day, seemed too final somehow. Perhaps
preserving the illusion that they still had a chance was better than the cold
truth that had faced her when she had awoken in his bed this morning, slightly
sore and thoroughly tumbled.

It had been their first, last, and
only night together.
 
They both knew it,
even before he had gently said that things could go no further.
 
When she had made the decision to go to
Gibson the previous evening, Amy had been determined that if one night was all
she was to have, it would be one to remember.
 
The only night of true love and passion that she would ever
experience.
 
That was precisely what he
had given her.

There had been no discussion
between them when they parted that morning.
 
It was not needed.
 
They both
knew that with Marcus' return, things would change.
 
She just hadn't imagined that particular change occurring so
soon.
 
She had simply thought they would
be given more time.

Now, sitting here at the breakfast
table, Amy realized that she wanted more time, and that she was willing to
fight for it.
 
Last night was not
enough.
 
And yes, she had vowed that
this time, she would stick to her promise and release Gibson if he wanted to be
rid of her.
 
But that was when she
believed that he did not truly love her, and merely lusted after her.
 
After last night, she knew that he did love
her.
 
More than he could say.
 
She had seen the truth of his emotions in
his eyes.

And wasn't love the one thing worth
fighting for, no matter the cost?
 
Regardless
of how "grown-up" one was?
 
At
some point, certainly, she would have to let him go if that was what he truly
wanted, but her heart told her they had not reached that point quite yet.

If only she could be completely
certain that Gibson wanted her, as well.
 
He hadn't specifically said that he loved her.
 
He hadn't even hinted at it.
 
Or maybe he had.
 
She was so
confused.
 
Was it possible that she had
been wrong, that there were no strong feelings on his part?
 
If that was the case, had she simply given
her heart to a man who didn't want it?
 
Yet he had intimated differently so many times.
 
What was the truth?
 
She didn't know.

The only thing she did know was
that she hurt.
 
A lot.
 
The wounds, intentional or not, that Gibson
had inflicted on her when he had departed so abruptly that morning had cut
deeper than any blade ever could.

"Dr. Blackwell?"
 
Marcus looked at her incredulously, pulling
Amy from her silent musings.
 
"In
your letters, you referred to him as 'Gibson,' so why the change?"
 
When she just looked away, afraid of what
Marcus might read on her face, he rose, being careful, she noted, not to bump
into the edge of the table.
 
While some
of his sight had returned, he had not regained all of it, and on occasion, he
had difficulty navigating rooms.
 
He had
admitted that much to her earlier when he knocked over a small footstool.
 
"You can tell me, Amy.
 
I promise that I will understand.
 
Whatever it is that you have to say.
 
I am your brother, and above all, I love
you.
 
I do not wish to see you hurting,
and clearly, you are."

She picked at the lace table
covering absently.
 
She could not tell
him the truth.
 
He was her brother, for
God's sake!
 
He would be furious.
 
What would she say anyway?
 
That she had given her heart, body and soul
to a man who might or might not love her?
 
No, she could not do that.
 
Instead, she settled on the practical rather than the fanciful.
 
"What is there to tell?
 
Mother collapsed.
 
Gibson was there at the ball as well and offered his
assistance.
 
When the two of us
discovered that she had been running the estate in Father's absence, he offered
to step in and help me.
 
He was trained
for that sort of thing. I was not."

"And?"
 
Marcus leaned back in his chair and crossed
his arms over his chest.
 
He really was
a bit more imposing than she remembered.
 
Waiting.
 
As if he knew.

Sitting back in a huff, Amy looked
at her brother and crossed her own arms in defiance.
 
"And what, Marcus?
 
What do you want me to say?
 
I
had no one to help me, no one to turn to.
 
I was afraid that Mama would die.
 
I sent letters and runners, but received no response.
 
I was alone, and we found that stupid
directive.
 
What was I to do?
 
I had no other option!"
 
She used her anger to disguise her pain, as
it was the only weapon at her disposal to deflect her brother from the truth.

Amy had told Marcus earlier that
morning, not only about the directive, but about the steps she and Gibson had
taken to keep the estate running in everyone's absence.
 
It had been a short conversation, as she
pertly informed her brother that Michaels could fill him in on the rest.
 
There was nothing else to say, at least not
on her part, for fear that she would reveal too much.
 
Marcus and Gibson might be friends, but she highly doubted that
the notorious Viscount Breckenright would approve of what she and Gibson had
done in his bed.
 
And elsewhere.
 
Had her brother known, there was no doubt in
Amy's mind that she would have been sent off to the nearest convent within the
hour.

Marcus gently laid his hand over
hers, and she blinked in surprise at this display of his softer nature.
 
Perhaps there was a little bit of her old
brother left inside of him after all.
 
"I do not question you or your decisions, Amy.
 
I know they were not easy to make.
 
I only want to know what is between you and
the doctor."

"Nothing," she said
flatly, shaking her head.
 
"There
is nothing between us."
 
That, of
course, was a lie, but again, she could not admit the truth to her brother.
 
They were her secrets.
 
Well, hers and Gibson's anyway.

"That, my darling daughter, is
not true and you know it."

"Mama!"
 
Both Amy and Marcus said the word
simultaneously.

"What are you doing out of
bed?" Marcus asked while Amy chimed in with "Is it not too soon for
you to be up and about?"

She waved a hand at both of them
and slowly made her way to the table where she sat with some assistance from
the viscount.
 
"I am fine.
 
Gibson was by earlier this morning and gave
me the joyous news that I may get out of bed now.
 
For a few hours anyway.
 
I
still need to rest much of the day, but I am recovering."
 
She offered a wan smile.
 
"And, as you can tell, I have my power
of speech back."
 
There was still a
slight slur to her words, but it was not so noticeable that she could not be
understood.

"I did not know Dr. Blackwell
was here already."
 
Amy's heart
hurt even more at the thought that he had not sought her out when he had come
to check on the countess.
 
He must have
dropped her off at the mews and then doubled back so as not to arouse
suspicion.
 
It hurt.
 
Greatly.
 
Then again, she also knew that this was the way things must be between
them.
 
He had evidently made his choice,
even if he had not spoken of it to her.
 
He would not fight for her.
 
He
was content to let her go.

She knew that it was time for her
to do the same.
 
She needed to let
Gibson go, once and for all.

"He was here at first light,
which was odd.
 
Even he does not
typically rise that early," Thea replied a bit haltingly.
 
She attempted to pour some tea but her hand
shook, and she required some assistance from Amy.
 
"I asked him to stay to breakfast with us, but he said that
now that Marcus was home, he needed to return to his practice.
 
He has been sorely neglecting it the last
few weeks."