Chapter 14
Suddenly she was flying, rolling backwards into the mud, a heavy weight rolling on top of her and then rolling off her, then on top of her again, settling there and pushing what little breath she had out of her.
“Are you hurt?” the voice asked through rasping breaths. “Emily, are you hurt.”
She fluttered her eyelids and tried to work out if she was hurt. A little winded perhaps. Her ankle ached, and there was a dead weight on top of her.
“I…”
“Emily, are you hurt?”
She recognised the voice now. It was Viscount Beattie. Gideon.
“Gideon, you’re crushing me.”
He rolled off her.
“Are you hurt?”
She considered all the parts of her body. “My ankle is painful, but I feel no other pain.”
He heaved a deep sigh.
“Milord. I saw what happened. Are you both well?” She looked up to find Denholm and the stable hand standing there, both wringing their hands.
“I think we are both well, though Lady Emily may have hurt her ankle. We shall get in the carriage and look at it. Can you help me up and then I shall carry Lady Emily back to the carriage?”
“Of course, milord.”
Gideon glanced down her body and must have assured himself she was properly covered before he lifted his hand to his coachman. He was on his feet in seconds.
He was covered in mud. It was then she realised she was lying in water. Most likely very dirty water. She lifted her hand and saw mud covering her.
“Oh no.”
Gideon ran his hand through his hair before bending down and placing a hand under her shoulders.
“You were nearly killed under the wheels of a carriage, Emily. A little mud is a minor detail at this point. Put your arms around my neck.”
He lifted her as though she weighed no more than a feather. As they walked back, Gideon asked the coachman about the coach that had nearly run over Emily.
“Never really saw it, milord. Seemed to slow a bit but then carried on. I think it had a ducal crest on it. Looked fancy anyhow.”
“It was my fault,” said Emily.
“Immaterial. He should have slowed down to check you were alive or dead.”
“Would one not know?”
“Not with the ruts on these roads, milady. Beggin’ your pardon.”
Gideon sighed.
“Denholm, go ahead to the coach and lay the blankets on the seats. We’re both filthy and I don’t want to dirty the seats which we still have to sit on for days.”
“Aye, milord.”
He hurried on and Gideon slowed his pace.
“I apologise for Denholm’s crassness. He’s not used to speaking more than the odd few words to ladies. He forgets about your delicate sensibilities.”
“It is fine. I am fine.” She pulled at her skirt and circled her ankle. “I think my ankle may be unhurt. It was caught in a root but I think I may just have turned it slightly.”
“I shall stand you up when we get to the carriage and you can try it out.”
He was tense, and it wasn’t from carrying her. She could see the hard set of his jaw and the steely determination of his green eyes—as though he was reining in his temper. Was he angry at her?
Well, of course he was angry. She had been a stupid, stupid girl. She had nearly got herself killed. That carriage had nearly run her over, Gideon had saved her, and in the nick of time.
Suddenly she felt cold and she leaned against him—against his warmth.
They were at the carriage now and Gideon was lowering her to her feet. She immediately bore all her weight on her good foot, then tentatively, very tentatively, she stepped onto her foot that had been caught in the bush root. There was a slight twinge of pain, but in all honesty, she had felt much worse when she was a child.
“Well?” Gideon was frowning with concern.
“It is a little tender but I think it shall be fine.”
“Hmm, I think we should wait and see what it is like in a few hours and if it swells. Then we shall decide if we need a doctor or an apothecary. Right, into the carriage.” He handed her up, with less courtesy than he usually bestowed upon her. In fact, he practically hoisted her into the conveyance and bumbled in behind her, slamming the door. As soon as the rocking of the carriage stopped, signalling that the coachman and stable hand were in their places, Gideon rapped on the ceiling.
Gideon dropped his head back against the blanket covered squabs and wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
Emily looked down at her un-gloved hands. She was no lady. No hat, no gloves, covered in mud, having practically given her innocence to him, asking him about intimate things that men did, watching him relieve himself.
A big fat teardrop hit her hand and she swallowed hard. He must be regretting bringing her along. He should have left her to her ruination back in Herefordshire.
“Why in the devil’s name did you run like that, Emily?”
“I…I…I’m so sorry.”
“For what? For nearly killing yourself? God dammit, Emily. You nearly died.”
“Maybe it would be better for everyone if I had.”
“Why? Is the sight of me emptying my bladder so abhorrent to you? If it is, my darling, the marriage bed is going to be a bit of a shock.”
“No-o-o!” She wailed. He did not understand. She did not even understand herself. She hauled in a deep breath and tried to control herself. She was being ridiculous, and now she was shivering. She lifted a hand to wipe her tears. She really was going to make the worst viscountess. Suddenly she was enveloped in both the blanket and his arms. She was trapped in a warm cocoon against his strong, virile body. “I apologise. I am not normally such a watering pot. The journey and all the experiences of the past week or so have made me quite emotional. I may have…over-reacted.”
“Hmm, go on.”
“I came around the bush after—well my own ablutions, shall we say and it did not occur to me what you were doing, even though as a child I saw Robert going against trees and walls, sometimes he was having a competition with himself to see how high he could get it to go.” Gideon chuckled and she felt slightly better. “I thought you were just inspecting the tree. Had maybe found something interesting, holes from an iron ball from a pistol or something. Then I saw you had your… you had it out and you were relieving yourself. You scowled at me. I felt such a ninny, just staring at you. I was mortified.”
“I was scowling because I was getting ready to reach for my pistol. I was not convinced it was you. While I would have preferred for you not to have witnessed me relieving myself against a tree, I am not such a delicate flower that I should wilt at the thought, and I believe you are not either. You are a ninny for running and not stopping when I called you back. I should tan your hide for that.”
“You would hit me.” She tried to pull away from him but he held her tight.
“No. I would never hit a woman, tempted though I may be in this instance for your damned stupidity, but, my darling, you need to start thinking before you act and before you speak. Kissing sleeping viscounts in their bedrooms, running away from absolutely nothing and nearly getting yourself killed, blurting out the first thing that comes into your head. You truly are a master of disaster. Or a mistress at least.”
She gave him a rueful smile then bit her lip. “Are you very disappointed that you decided to marry me?”
He pressed his lips to her temple. “No, not at all. I think life with you shall at least never be dull. I would soon have had to start looking for a wife in the ballrooms of London and no doubt I would have found some primped and perfect young lady just out of the schoolroom. Who would have said just the right thing at all the correct times and would have produced the perfect heir and spare, but I may very well have died of boredom before I was in my fortieth year.”
“You may have been better just spending more time in your box at Drury Lane if you wanted to be entertained than marrying me, my lord.”
“Mayhap, but the theatre makes me an observer, not a participant in all the goings-on. While I do not wish to have to save your life every day, as these wet breeches are deuced uncomfortable, I shall enjoy being part of your madcap entertainments.”
“I am sorry I got you wet and muddy and thank you for saving me.”
“Speaking of wet and muddy…” he leaned over and closed the curtains over the carriage windows then did the same on the other side. He then half stood and lit the lamp inside the carriage.
“What are you doing?”
“It is still quite a distance to the next inn and we do not know if they shall have rooms ready. We shall have to change in the carriage.”
Change? In the carriage? In front of him? Emily eased out of Gideon’s hold and pushed herself as far into the corner of the seat as she could manage.
“No. I cannot change my clothes in here, my lord. It is inappropriate.”
He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her and for the first time, she noticed that he had that aristocratic, no-nonsense glare absolutely perfected. She felt like a small girl in the schoolroom again.
“No? You want to arrive at the next inn looking like a bedraggled stray cat, do you, Lady Emily?”
“I do not look like a stray cat.”
He lifted a clump of her hair which had fallen out of her simple but stylish coiffure and lifted it to her gaze. It was muddy and wet, as he lifted it to her nose, she smelled wet hair. She glanced down at her gown when was absolutely covered in mud and clung to her in all the wrong places. She probably did resemble a stray cat. A bedraggled one at that. He reached across the seat and started to pull things out of his valise. Clean breeches, a clean shirt, stockings, waistcoat, a long neckcloth, and a spare coat.
“What do you need out? A gown, underskirts, a shift, stays, and stockings?” She did not answer. She was not changing in front of him no matter what state she was in. He shrugged and started to pull things out of her valise too. Oh, he was a brute. When he pulled out her stays and shift she gave a little yelp of dismay and then covered her mouth. He leaned over to her and his breath warmed her ear. “I have seen a lady’s undergarments before, Lady Emily. I have removed them and I am no stranger to them. Yours shall be no different.”
She scrunched up her nose and turned her head away from him. “Do you think to make me feel better by parading the fact you have… had intimate relations with a multitude of other women before me, my lord? I assure you, it gives me no comfort.”
He sighed heavily and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Forgive me. I was trying to put you at your ease by making light of the fact you are not the first lady I will have seen without clothes on. It was crass and unkind to mention it.”
“They were no ladies,” she replied venomously.
“Some of them were widows, my dear. Would that I die before you, I would not wish you to spend your entire life in mourning for me. You should live your life to the full and if that means finding pleasure with some handsome young buck’s bed and showing him how to please a woman, then for your own sake and that of our children’s do it discreetly, but enjoy yourself and do not feel guilty. Do not let the jealousy of young ladies who have not yet experienced the pleasure of the marriage bed deter you. For one day soon, they shall know it.”
“I do not believe you are speaking in hypotheticals, my lord.”
“I hope my death is a hypothetical, my love. As I hope is yours. However, if you stay in wet clothes it may not be. I do not want you catching a chill. So, stop sulking and let me help you undress.”
She heaved in a frustrated breath. He did have a point about her catching a chill, and she did not want to arrive at the next inn looking like a stray cat. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and it was terribly distracting. It was almost as if its warmth was melting her inner resolve the way one’s breath melted an ice at Gunther’s.
“Oh, very well,” she conceded.
“Good, for I have undone quite a few of these buttons at the back of your gown while I was awaiting your answer and it would have been damned inconvenient to have to re-button them.”
“You, my lord, are very presumptuous.”
“I am. You’re sensible when all is said and done, Emily, and you know the dangers of a chill. Now, the plan of action is to both get the dirty clothes off, rub the dirt off with the blankets, then wrap the dirty clothes in the blankets and don the clean clothes. We will hand the dirty clothes to the staff at the inn to clean them and give them a good tip for their services.”
“Fine.”
“I will undress first. It is better for me to be cold for longer. I can stand it for a longer time. The quicker you are changed and dry, the better. Can you help me with my jacket?” He turned and she helped him peel the wet wool from his broad shoulders. His shirt was only a little soggy underneath but she knew it was wetter at the front. Taking off his boots took some minutes as they were so well fitting and there really was very little room in the carriage. He removed his stockings and garters, then his waistcoat and shirt. He was wet on the front of his chest and on his legs.
Then he undid the buttons of his breeches, lifted his bottom and slid them off over strong, muscular thighs, but it wasn’t that which had her attention caught and held. It was the long thick member which jutted out from between his legs.
Emily licked her lips which suddenly seemed very dry. Feeling it through his breeches or against her leg the other night was a whole different thing to seeing it. He was drying himself on the blanket, rubbing his back, lifting his bottom to dry it and the backs of his thighs. Then he pulled it from under him, rubbed his chest and flat stomach, he gave a cursory swipe between his legs then dried his thighs and calves.
It was only then Gideon looked at her and his gaze followed hers.
“I apologise. For some reason, arguing with you arouses me. The thought of seeing you naked also arouses me. I am a mere man. I cannot do anything to hide the fact that I am aroused. If you ignore it, so can I. Turn around and I can finish your buttons.”
Emily did as she was told. Why did she feel so excited at seeing it?
“Gideon?”
“Hmm.”
“It still looks far too large.”
He chuckled. “You do a man’s ego a lot of good, Emily, but you, my dear, are such a curious young thing that you will be teaching me tricks soon. I am surprised that you have not already learned to pleasure yourself.”
“Pleasure myself?”
“Yes. I would have thought you would have explored your own body. For someone so desperate to find out everything, you have a serious lack of curiosity about yourself.”
“Oh, you mean touching myself between my legs?”
“Yes.”
“Mother told me never to do that. When I was about twelve she sat me down and explained courses to me and told me how to deal with the bleeding and said apart from washing myself, I should never touch myself there.”
“Did she? Yet you let me touch you.” She was pushing her gown off her shoulders.
“You will be my husband. She did not say anything about husbands.”
He took his own blanket and rubbed her hair. It was nice to know that he was taking care of her and despite her slight discomfiture that they would both be naked in this carriage for a few moments, she would soon be in clean dry clothes.
“Lift your arm so I can loosen your stays.” She did as she was told and drew in a deep breath as the restrictive garment was released. He undid it at the back and removed it tossing it onto his pile of clothing. “Undo the ribbon of your shift.”
She did and he eased it off her shoulders and arms to pool along with her gown at her waist. She felt so exposed, but he was sitting there naked too. Gabriel took the blanket, rubbed gently on her back, shoulders and down her arms. She sat meekly like a child whose nurse was drying her after a bath.
When he wrapped his arm around her and began to dry her stomach and under her breasts, she made no protest. She knew she should. The rough woollen material was grazed gently over her nipples and upper chest. Her body seemed to be on fire at the touch of the cloth but she knew it was not because the material was rougher than a linen she would usually use.
She tried to undo the bow at her underskirts but her fingers were trembling.
“I cannot manage,”
“Let me.” His voice was rough, as though he was getting a chill. She glanced around at his face. He was scowling hard. Was he disappointed in what she looked like without clothes? She lifted her breasts and glared at them. “Lift your bottom and I’ll get the rest of your clothes off,” he ground out, but she didn’t move. She heard him but she was too worried about her breasts. Really, they were horrible. “Emily. For God’s sake, what’s wrong now?”
“It’s my nipples. They’re too big.”
“What the devil?”
“I knew they were not right when my breasts started to grow but I had no one to ask and now…. now?”
He pulled her against him and pressed a couple of fingers over her mouth.
“Emily, your breasts, what I can see of them, are lovely. If we were not on a highway heading towards an inn at this precise moment, I would have you on my knee and I would be sucking each of them into my mouth in turn and feasting on them. You would be in seventh heaven. I am currently hanging on to my sanity by a thread. You are the most infuriating, yet most innocently sensual woman I have ever met. Without realising it, you have given me an almost constant cock-stand since I met you. Now, lift that delicious little arse of yours so I can get you naked and re-clothed before I do something we shall both regret.”
Emily did not know what to make of his little diatribe, and what was a cock-stand. She had heard Robert calling his manhood a cock when he was growing up. He had done it to shock her a time or two. She was not going to ask Gideon though. Not when he was in this mood, but he had said he liked her breasts. Well, he said he wanted to suck on them. That must be good. The idea of him doing that sent a shiver of pleasure through her and he tugged impatiently on her clothing.
She lifted her bottom and he pushed all her clothing apart from her stockings to a heap on the floor. Then he swept around her skin with a blanket, rubbing with more vigour than she felt was necessary.
Just then the carriage hit a particularly large rut on the road. Emily had been using Gideon’s thigh and the arm of the seat to lift herself. It had been a precarious position. Now she was flung across his lap.
She was just scrambling off his lap when they hit another rut. Emily reached for something to give her purchase and get her back to her own seat. An arm… but that was no arm. That was definitely not an arm.
Gideon groaned and his hand closed over hers. Instead of unfurling her fingers as she thought he would, he started to move their hands up and down his hard shaft.
Emily managed to right herself and looked up into Gideon’s eyes, He looked conflicted.
“Better to go to hell, then to Bedlam, wouldn’t you agree, my lady.”
“I think you may prefer seventh heaven, my lord.” He chuckled. Then he looked sombrely at her. “Do you wish to stop?”
She shook her head. “I like the feel of it in my hand. It’s soft and yet hard at the same time.”
“Come and sit on my lap then and I shall give you pleasure too. Bring your blanket.” She did as she was bid and he grinned at her. She sat gingerly on his knee. “Tell me, which hand do you write with.” She lifted her right hand. He took it and placed it on his long, thick staff, throwing his head back on an almost pained groan when she started to stroke him. He pressed his lips to hers as his fingers stroked through the curls at the apex of her thighs. She opened her legs without having to be told and his fingers slid through the slick folds easily. He stroked her deftly and she moved her hand to the same rhythm. The kiss was desperate and needy, he dragged his lips away kissing down her neck as he shifted her into his arms,
He brushed his lips over her chest and down onto her breast until he captured her nipple in his mouth. He held it between his teeth and worried it with his teeth.
“Gideon,” she moaned, bucking against his fingers and gripping his shaft tighter.
“Yes, darling, that’s it,” he said before sucking her other nipple into his mouth and doing the same. “Damn, I’m not going to hold off.”
“Gideon, it feels so good.” Oh, she felt like a ninny saying that. He smiled indulgently down at her as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them, taking some saliva from his tongue to spread on her folds. It was warm and added to the lovely wetness she already had,
“Imagine we are in my bed at Beattie Park, a bottle of wine and some chocolates next to the bed, my darling. My hard, thick, cock, sliding where my fingers are working, ready to make you mine. My lips trailing from your lips down your neck, down your body, stopping to pay homage to each of these delightful breasts, over your stomach, a little lick into your navel, and then down. My tongue trailing down, down, down, until it circles just here. “
Emily arched her back as her release pulsed through her. Little bright lights flashed under her eyelids and she was sure she might be having a fit of the vapours. That was unconscionable. Oh, how debasing. Her breathing was coming in heaving rasps and Gideon had pulled her against his chest. He was rubbing her back calling her a good girl.
She struggled out of his tight embrace and wiped her hair from her eyes. He was grinning.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You release like a firework at Vauxhall. It is a sight to behold. Now much though I would love to be a gentleman and pretend I do not need a release, you have been stroking me and I am afraid that even gentlemen only have so much tolerance for naked ladies and their very skilled manipulations. Shall I do it myself?”
“No, please, let me.”
She curled her fingers back around his length and he leaned back against the squabs, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He looked quite adorable. Soon, he was thrusting into her hand in time to her strokes. He put an arm around her to keep her safe. She slipped off his knee and sat beside him, allowing him more room to thrust. It seemed he wanted to but was afraid to harm her. He pulled her to his side and pressed a kiss to her temple.
She did not know where the urge came from but he had kissed her nipples. Suddenly she had stuck out her tongue and was circling the small dark nipple on his chest. He groaned, but it was a groan of pleasure.
“You like that?” she asked. He clasped his hand around hers and sped up the rhythm.
“Very much. Next, you’ll be putting my cock in your mouth.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“You want me to?” His eyes were closed.
“Yes,” he ground out. “No,” he shouted just as she tried to work out the best way to do it. “No, I… Christ…”
She was not sure there was any blood left in her fingers. His grip was so tight and they were stroking him so fast. He started to make a low moaning noise and then he tensed.
“Oh God!”
Jets of white liquid shot from the tip of it and landed on his chest. Some even landed on his chin and he wiped it away in what looked like annoyance. He stroked a few more times as a little more of the seed was squeezed from the tip and then Gideon let go. He uncurled her fingers from his purple headed shaft and raised it to his lips.
“Thank you,” he said through his pants. “Thank you and I apologise.”
“What are you apologising for?”
“A lady should not see a gentleman do that.”
“I thought this lady had done it to the gentleman with a little help, of course.”
Without lifting his head from the squabs, he turned it to her and smiled. It was a genuine, warm smile.
She looked at the white liquid adorning his chest.
“Is it sticky?”
“Not much, no.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Over the years, my lady I hope to put plenty of it inside you but if Lady Curious wants to touch it and satisfy her curiosity before her wedding day, then she can.”
She ran her finger through it. It was simply wet. How terribly uninteresting. As she raised it to her nose, he raised an eyebrow. It smelled, well, of nothing. She stuck out her tongue and watched his reaction. He did not try to stop her. She sucked her finger into her mouth.
“I wonder if hell has its own Bedlam,” he mused.
“It tastes of salt…and something else.”
“Well, it is the seed that babies come from.”
Oh, she hadn’t thought of that. Suddenly she was horrified. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he threw his head back and laughed. “You shall not end up with child by putting it in your mouth.”
She pursed her lips. He was laughing at her. How was she supposed to have known that? Would he laugh at her and tell his friends she’d thought she could get pregnant by sucking his seed into her mouth. Would she be the talk of White’s?
“We should get dressed.”
“We should, but why are you upset with me?”
“I am not upset with you.”
“Emily!”
“Promise me you shall not tell anyone I did not know I could not get pregnant by putting your seed in my mouth.”
“Of course, I shall not.”
“Promise me.”
“Fine. I promise. Why do you need a promise?”
“I do not wish to be the talk of White’s, or to be ridiculed.”
“Firstly, my club is Brooks’ and secondly, why would I discuss what happens in my own bedchamber, or in this case, my own carriage, with people I meet in Brooks’?”
“Robert was always telling his friends about the silly things I said or did.”
“It sounds like your brother is an ass.”
“He can be.”
“What happens between us, is strictly between us. Just as you may not want anyone to know you didn’t know everything there was to know about the making of babies before you were wed. I believe I would prefer it not to be known that I had an innocent young lady stroking me to completion in a carriage halfway to Scotland while we were both naked. While I have thoroughly enjoyed this interlude, Emily, I doubt I come out of it looking like much of a gentleman.”
She giggled and passed him her blanket to wipe his chest.
“I did enjoy it too, if that is any consolation.”
“It is all the consolation I need.”
“We should get dressed. We must be getting near to that inn.”
“Indeed.”