Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
nodded, completely unable to frame any words for the laughter bubbling over.
With a low growl, he spun away from her, wedged the window frame back in place and thumped it home with several strategic blows from his large, powerful fists.
Strange, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the demonstration of raw masculine frustration. If that had been her father, now, she would have been crouching lower, keeping her eyes down, her head bowed. Anything and everything to render herself small and invisible.
But Lord Havelock wasn’t cast from the same mould as her father. He might be hot-tempered, but he wasn’t bad-tempered. And that made all the difference.
As if to prove the point, the second he’d mended the window as well as he could, he strode across the room, dropped to his knees beside her and draped one arm about her shoulders.
‘You’re a good sport,’ he said brusquely, before planting a kiss on her temple. ‘I know I’ve said it before, but you must be the only woman alive who would see the funny side, rather than ripping up at me.’
He took the poker from the set of fire irons and started pushing the coals into more strategic positions.
‘So far today you’ve had to skivvy like a kitchen maid and now you’re going to have to sleep in conditions that are tantamount to camping out.’
Whatever must the women in his past have been like, to carp over such trifles as that? No wonder he’d been so reluctant to get married, if that was his expectation of female behaviour.
‘All I really asked of you was a room of my own, in whichever of your properties I happened to be,’ she countered. ‘We never specified it should have fully f-functioning, w-windows...’ And suddenly she couldn’t quite stifle another bout of giggles as she recalled the look on his face when the whole thing had come away in his hands. ‘Or f-furniture of any kind, come to that.’
‘Like I said, a good sport,’ he said, smiling at her with approval.
‘What would be the point of ripping up at you, over something as silly as this? You didn’t mean me any harm. It’s just...’ She reached up and cupped his cheek.
‘Oh—you are so cold. You must get out of those wet things at once.’
His smile turned a shade wicked.
‘Now that’s what a man likes to hear from his bride. An invitation to get out of his clothing and into—’ He stopped short. ‘Only, hang it, we haven’t actually got a bed to get into.’
‘It won’t take long,’ she said, a touch breathlessly, ‘to make one up.’
He tossed the poker aside and gave her a look that made her heart leap behind her breastbone.
‘In fact, all we need to do...’
‘Yes?’
‘Is to bring the mattress over here and unroll it in front of the fire.’
‘Brilliant notion,’ he said, dropping a swift kiss on her cheek.
As she went to open their cases, he ripped off his damp jacket and shirt and tossed them into a corner. Her mouth dried at the sight of his naked torso. Though she was supposed to be selecting the items of clothing most suited to form bedding, she just grabbed handfuls at random, unable to keep her eyes straying from the sight of him wrestling the mattress into submission. In the end, it happened to be a couple of his shirts and her spare petticoat that she spread over the mattress, and heaven alone knew what she had wadded up into makeshift pillows.
They fell to the mattress together, lips meeting and locking in a heated kiss.
She ran her hands up and down the smooth, sleek muscles of his back as he rolled her beneath him. And moaned with pleasure when he grabbed a handful of her skirts and pushed them up out of the way.
‘Lord,’ he groaned, ‘we should slow this down, somehow. You are so new at this.’
No! He couldn’t stop now. Not when she needed him so badly.
‘We can go slow next time, if you like. But please...’ She shifted her hips impatiently.
‘Next time, she says,’ he growled into her neck. ‘Do you know what it does to a man, hearing the woman he’s taking, promising him there will be a next time?’
‘No....’
‘Of course you don’t, my little innocent. That’s what makes you so adorable.’
Adorable? He thought she was adorable? Well, she thought he was adorable, too. She hugged him hard, on a wave of tenderness.
‘And I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to, believe me,’ he assured her.
‘Good.’ She half sighed, half moaned, as he slid his hand, and with it her skirts, all the way up to her waist.
‘Oh, God,’ he moaned, exploring her with his fingers. ‘You are so ready for me. I can’t believe it. I don’t deserve you.’ He raised himself up to claw open the fall of his breeches. ‘I don’t deserve,’ he said, thrusting home, ‘this.’
It was heavenly. She knew the pleasure he could bring this time, and instead of lying back and letting him do all the work, she became an equal participant, striving to reach the finishing line alongside him. And this time, instead of a soft, gentle burst of pleasure, it was like a thousand rockets going off inside her, all at once. Shattering. Sparkling. Satisfying. So satisfying. She clutched at him, stroking his back as he settled over her, his face buried in her neck.
‘Mary,’ he growled after a moment or two. ‘Mary?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I know I said you could always have a room of your own,’ he said plaintively. ‘But I hope you’re not going to insist I find somewhere else tonight.’
‘You must be joking,’ she said. ‘I will need you to keep me warm.’
When he would have rolled off her, she clung on.
‘Not so fast.’
He half rose up to look down into her face.
‘You mean, now I can take it slowly?’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ she protested.
But with a wicked grin, he reached down between them and began to toy with her, just where their bodies were still joined.
She gasped. ‘I didn’t know... Can you do it all over again?’
‘It seems that with you, I can. You are an astonishing woman.’
‘Me?’ She looked up at him, perplexed. Though she couldn’t meet his eye for very long, not when he was doing what he was doing.
‘Oohh,’ she groaned.
‘Oh, indeed,’ he agreed. And wrapped her legs round his waist.
She didn’t know what woke her, but the moment she did so, she knew she was alone. And the place where her husband had been was cold.
She could hear windows rattling somewhere, chimneys moaning as the wind protested its inability to get in. The fire had died down considerably, but it still cast a dim glow over the room. She snuggled down further into the pile of clothing that had become her bed, marvelling that she could feel so calm, that the sounds of the storm raging outside only made her feel more secure.
She’d never known this. This complete faith that she was safe. There’d always been a feeling of dread hanging over her, as far back as she could remember. But it had gone now.
She rather thought it had started to lift the moment Lord Havelock had slid his ring on to her finger.