Chapter 20

“Wherein… at last.”

If the anticipation that Oscar could feel thrumming between him and Ella was noticeable to anyone else, they were discreet enough not to mention it.

Bertie, Fluff, and his mother kept up an endless stream of inanity, all three in fine spirits now that it was obvious he and Ella were on better terms. There was an almost celebratory atmosphere, contagious to everyone, though once or twice he saw worry in Ella’s eyes. For once, he felt certain it was not him who had put that worry there, though he still hated to see it. No doubt her blasted sister.

Though Ella had assured him that Pearl did not mean to cause trouble, Oscar could not help but feel anxious. Pearl had always treated Ella monstrously, and if she tried it now he’d have no compunction in throwing her out.

Even Pearl, however, could not dampen his spirits.

Despite his best intentions, Oscar could not help but stare across the table at his wife. Whenever their gazes met it was akin to a lightning strike, a jolt of sensation blazing through him and making him increasingly impatient. It was on the tip of this tongue to demand the serving staff get a bloody move on and, when Fluff lingered for an interminable time over his dessert and then requested seconds, Oscar had to refrain from doing the fool bodily harm.

The rather wicked glint he saw in Fluff’s eyes only made him suspect the bastard knew damn well what he was doing. Curse him.

At last, however, the meal was done. Oscar squashed the notion they would all sit about and play piquet and gave his mother a quelling look when she suggested Ella play the piano for them.

“Goodnight,” he said, his tone brooking no nonsense as he grabbed Ella’s hand and towed her from the room.

That his wife had turned a startling shade of scarlet made him feel not the least bit of remorse, though he avoided her brother’s gaze as they left.

He closed the door on the dining room with a sigh.

“Thank heavens,” he muttered, and headed for the stairs.

“Oscar!” Ella reproached him as he tugged at her hand. “I was never more mortified.”

He felt a little like a caveman dragging his kill back to his lair, but there was nothing to be done about it. He glanced back at her to assure himself she was really amused by his desperation rather than annoyed.

“Sorry, darling,” he said, not sounding anything of the sort. “It might have gotten ugly if they’d tried to delay us any longer. I had to take action.”

Ella gave a snort and Oscar grinned at her.

He drew to a halt outside her room and Ella hesitated.

“C-Come back in ten minutes?” she asked, her voice a little anxious.

“You’re not serious?” he demanded, eyes wide. “I can be your abigail,” he added as he stepped forward, waggling his eyebrows at her in a villainous manner that made her laugh. The anxiety disappeared at once, as he’d hoped it would, and she smacked his arm.

“Fool,” she murmured with affection.

“Your fool,” he agreed, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Ten minutes,” she insisted, pushing him away again, though she was smiling.

“Ugh!” Oscar threw up his hands, defeated. “Fine, torment me if you must. Ten minutes, but not a moment longer.”

He winked at her and strode away down the corridor, anticipation alive in his blood and a smile at his lips.

Ella flew into her bedroom, almost tying herself in knots as she tried to unfasten her dress by herself.

“Nancy!” she exclaimed as the maid hurried towards her. “Get me out of this!”

“Whatever is the matter, your grace?” Nancy demanded, bewildered by the urgency.

“He’s coming!” Ella squeaked, too impatient to be coy.

“Oh!” Nancy replied, wide-eyed and then gave a triumphant laugh, clapping her hands. “Oh, well done, Ella… beg pardon, your grace!”

“Oh, stuff your grace,” Ella exclaimed, wriggling out of her petticoats and hurrying to the washbasin. “Where is my bedshift? The pretty one with the lace.”

Ella washed, scrubbing a washcloth and her favourite rose scented soap over her skin and then sprinkling toothpowder onto a brush, relieved she’d refused the onion soup at dinner.

The two women flew about the room and Ella had just tied the fastening at the neck of her shift as a polite knock sounded.

Ella blushed, and Nancy giggled as she scooped up the dirty linens from the floor and hurried to open the door. The maid gasped as she saw Oscar. His cravat had been dispensed with along with coat and waistcoat, and his shirt was open at the neck. His feet were bare. Nancy threw Ella a mischievous look before scurrying past Oscar, who stood in the doorway. Her giggles could be heard all the way down the corridor.

He gave the maid an amused glance as she rushed past and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Ella clutched her arms about herself, shivering for no good reason when the room was perfectly warm. Her earlier excitement had fled, and she felt terribly nervous.

“Hello,” Oscar said, his expression warm, those lovely hazel eyes full of pleasure.

“Hello,” Ella replied, feeling foolish. She’d no doubt his mistresses had invited him into their bedrooms with seductive words and languid grace whereas she was rooted to the spot.

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck and gave a rueful smile. “Nervous?” he asked.

Ella nodded, not trusting her voice enough to form a reply.

“Thank God, me too,” he said with relief.

She stared at him, and then burst out laughing. Why was she being so foolish? It was Oscar, not someone she need be afraid of. She’d made a fool of herself in front of him countless times over the years, and yet… here he was, with her.

Oscar grinned at her and stepped forward. He placed one hand on her hip, the other cupping her cheek, raising her face to him.

“You’re not scared of me, though? You know what happens….”

Ella rolled her eyes at him now, her confidence returning a little. “Of course not, and yes, Oscar.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, a rather wicked glint in them now. “Oh, is that right, Mrs Knowitall? Shall I put myself in your hands, then?”

Ella huffed at him, glaring. “Odious creature. You know I didn’t mean―”

Before she could say more, Oscar ducked his head and kissed her, and any remaining nerves up and disappeared under a thrill of anticipation.

For a long time, there was nothing more than the slide and caress of tongues, the gentle press of lips, and the soft sound of their breathing in the quiet of the bedroom.

Ella moved closer to him, pressing against his body, eager for his warmth as his arms wrapped around her.

She glanced up as he broke the kiss, staring down at her. Her breath caught, and she was still astonished to see an expression like that in Oscar’s eyes when he looked upon her. He stared at her with wonder, as if she was something special and miraculous, and her heart swelled.

“Ella,” he murmured, sliding his fingers into her short curls. His voice was low, his breath a warm flutter against her mouth. “I want you to know, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here and you need not worry about… about any other distractions in my life.”

He sounded a little awkward now and Ella stared at him, hardly daring to hope she’d understood.

“Are you speaking of your mistresses, Oscar?” she asked.

With a sigh, Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yes, you little wretch, though I was trying to save your delicate feelings.”

Ella gave a bark of laughter. “I don’t have any of those, Oscar. You must know that by now.”

She grew serious as she stared up at him, reaching up to touch his face. “You mean it, though? There will only be me? Because… because I don’t think I could bear it… not now.”

He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Only you, love. Upon my honour. I gave them up as soon as I returned to London. There’s been no one since we married.”

A smile curved over his mouth as he watched the expression of surprise she knew must be on her face.

“But, that being the case,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her neck. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m just a little… impatient.”

Ella shrieked as he scooped her up and deposited her on the bed.

“Oscar!” she exclaimed, watching with interest as he stripped off his shirt.

Everything she had always suspected about Oscar was rather magnificently true, and she watched the play of muscle under his skin as he moved about with fascination. His enthusiasm for all things sporting had produced a body as fine and sculpted as any Greek marble, and Ella’s mouth grew dry. As he undid his trousers and dispensed with his smallclothes by kicking them halfway across the room, she could not help but stare. Powerful thighs, toned to perfection by hours of horse riding and then….

Ella gasped, her eyebrows hitting her hairline. “My word, Oscar….”

To her amusement he blushed a little, though there was a smug glint in his eyes. He moved closer and climbed onto the bed.

“Your turn, my Lady Rothborn,” he said, gesturing with an impatient hand. He lay back, crossing his arms behind his head, watching her with laughter dancing in his eyes. “Come along, come along, I don’t have all night.”

Ella narrowed her eyes at him, noting the way his lips twitched, and well aware he was teasing. “Isn’t undressing his wife the sort of thing a husband does on their wedding night?”

He raised one eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, Lord, Ella, you know I’m far too lazy for that.”

“Very well,” she replied, her voice tart. She got off the bed and stood, turning back to face him. Slowly… very slowly, she tugged at the first fastening on the pristine white bedshift. It was a simple garment, innocent, covering almost every inch of skin, including a generous measure of lace at her throat and wrists.

She watched, intrigued as Oscar’s eyes grew dark, fixed on the movement of her hands as she undid the next tie, and the next. The garment fell open, exposing a wide V from neck to navel.

“Take it off, Ella.”

Oscar’s voice was rough now, the teasing note gone as he sat up a little, his gaze intent.

Ella felt her heart pick up, the rush of blood in her veins exhilarating under the weight of his gaze upon her. She had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, or more powerful. It was intoxicating, and the look in his eyes made her bold.

With shaking fingers, she pushed the sheer cotton from first one shoulder, and then the other. It fell a little, then caught on the tantalising peak of her nipples.

“Christ, Ella, more,” he demanded, swinging his legs off the bed. He went to reach for her, but she darted back, repaying him for having teased her. What was sauce for the goose….

She felt alive under his captivated stare. It was almost tangible, a caress upon her skin as she allowed the shift to fall to her hips, and then slither to the ground. She shivered at the feel of the cotton sliding over her skin, the air upon her naked flesh, and his hot, devouring gaze.

“Come here,” he whispered.

She did as he asked, feeling shy all over again but smiling at the delight in his expression. He put a hand on her waist, the contact against her bare skin so shocking and intimate that she inhaled a sharp breath.

Oscar pulled her closer, between his legs where he sat on the edge of the mattress. His free hand reached up, tracing a line from her collarbone to down between her breasts, and she shivered. Both hands reached for her now, cupping her small breasts and toying with the nipples until the shiver became a continuous tremble and her breath came in short little gasps.

She watched as Oscar leaned in and traced the outline of one puckered little bud with his tongue, wondering if her legs would continue to support her. There was a hazy, dreamlike quality to the moment, a dizzying sensation buzzing beneath her skin that was far from unpleasant but made her want to give in to it and allow her limbs to submit under the delicious weight of pleasure.

Oscar paused and encouraged her back onto the bed and she wondered if he’d known her legs were close to buckling. She looked up now, reaching for him, winding her arms about his neck as he bent to kiss her.

His body settled with care, the shock of his skin covering hers a wonderful revelation. Everything about him was so different to her. He was far larger and heavier, and could easily have intimidated or overpowered, yet his hands were gentle, his touch almost reverent.

The heat rolled off his skin, burning against her flesh. How was he so much hotter than she? Ella shivered again, the contrast of cool air and his fiery temperature pressing against her in a sensual brand she did not want to escape. The hair on his chest and thighs was coarse, rasping delightfully against her sensitive flesh, yet his skin was like the finest silk and she allowed her hands to glide over him, exploring him as he returned those enquiring caresses.

The kisses became deeper, an urgency possessing Oscar that she responded to in kind, feeling something building, recognising the ache inside her, the desire for him blooming like ink on water. It slid into her blood as she raised her hips, and her breathing quickened further. Desperate for more, needing to be closer, she raised her legs, clinging to his hips, an instinctive movement that Oscar took no time in responding to.

Ella cried out, pleasure lancing through her as he slid against the heat of her sex. She gripped at his shoulders, insensible now as he repeated the movement over and over, a slow, decadent slide into a pleasant madness. Her head fell back as she arched, the feel of his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down her neck. adding fuel to a fire that was beyond containing. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the shimmering sensation building inside her, clutching at his shoulders as Oscar’s voice murmured in her ear, sweet words of assurance and encouragement she could not comprehend, but which guided her as she let go.

Pleasure caught at her breath and she waited, the anticipation absolute until the first wave crashed over her. Again and again, her body convulsed with it, wild sounds torn from her lips she was neither willing nor able to hold back. Little by little, the pleasure faded until she was gasping and dazed, staring up as Oscar came back into focus.

He looked rather pleased with himself.

Ella reached up a hand, touching a fingertip to that smug smile as Oscar grinned and nipped at her finger. He slid his arousal against her again, making her gasp as her sensitive flesh leap under his intimate caress. This time, however, he pushed forward, sliding inside her as her breath caught.

“Is this all right?” he whispered, the words spoken against her skin and making shivers race over her. He nuzzled her neck and as she didn’t, couldn’t, answer, he raised his head, searching her face.

She smiled, sliding her hands into the warmth of his hair.

“Yes?” he asked her, doubt in his eyes.

“Yes,” she managed, as he sighed and slid deeper. “Yes. Oh!”

Ella had expected pain. She had once been told by a newly married friend that the first time hurt badly, but there was nothing of that nature. A little discomfort as her body stretched to accommodate this friendly invasion, but nothing more.

“Still yes?” he gasped, braced on his elbows, his expression close to pain.

“Yes,” she said, smiling now as Oscar murmured an exclamation of relief.

She gasped as he sank home, and then again, heat blooming over her skin as he retreated and pushed inside once more.

“Ella,” he said, her name repeated against her lips in a dazed tone she well understood. “Ella, my love….”

She laughed then, unsure of whether it was the correct response in the circumstances, but happiness had bubbled up inside her. Oscar raised his head, startled, and then laughed too, the sound jolting through her as they both gasped.

Though the happiness remained, the urge to laugh fled as anticipation rolled under her skin. Oscar was lost, clutching at her, his skin damp and hot as his movements became faster, less controlled. The sounds he made were intoxicating, fuelling her own desires as he took his pleasure and gave hers in return, until a desperate, urgent crescendo swept them up and tumbled them over the other side.

Ella lay in her husband’s arms, exhausted and sweaty, and with the most ridiculous smile stretching her mouth from ear to ear.

Oscar turned on his side, resting his head on his hand as he looked down at her.

“Well you look mighty pleased with yourself, Duchess.”

Her grin widened. “I am,” she replied smugly.

“Why would that be?” he mused, leaning down to kiss her nose.

Ella snorted and shook her head. “I shan’t tell you, you’re far too conceited as it is.”

“Well, I like that,” he complained. “Me? Conceited? I feel sure you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“No,” she said in all seriousness. “I’m not.”

Oscar snorted. “Fair enough.” He leaned down and nipped at her earlobe, making her squirm. “Tell me anyway,” he whispered.

With a sigh, Ella pouted at him.

“Well, if you must know… and perhaps you really don’t, but…. Oh, I have loved you for such a long time and, for all of it, I had to make myself believe you’d never be mine, but I don’t have to think that way any longer. It’s… it’s the most wonderful realisation, Oscar. I love you, and I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“I love you too, dearest Bug,” he said, grinning as she rolled her eyes at the revolting pet name. “My dearest, darling little Bug. I wouldn’t change a hair or a freckle or a single thing about you. I’m only sorry I caused you such unhappiness by being such a blasted fool.”

Ella sighed, forgiving the wretched nickname in the circumstances. He could call her Bug for the rest of her days if he continued to say things like that.

“Just don’t do it again,” she said, making her voice scolding and severe even though she was trying not to laugh.

His face fell, and he grew quiet and Ella felt a little knot of anxiety pull tight in her belly.

“What?” she asked, as a frown gathered on his brow.

“Ella, promise you won’t be cross,” he said, an uncertain look in his eyes.

“Oscar?” Ella sat up, suddenly terrified by the shift in his demeanour as he moved to sit beside her and take her hand. “What is it?”

Oscar cleared his throat and looked so damn nervous Ella felt sweat prickle down the back of her neck.

“I… I may have done something a little… er… reckless, when I was in London.” He gave a weak laugh. “You might even think it a little… foolish.”

Ella stared at him, hardly daring to breathe as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked like he might be sick.

“What?” she demanded, the words shrill with worry.

“I-I have agreed to a boxing match… against Luther Blackehart.”