Harriett and Gerard were married in the stone country church in Temple Ewell. As she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, her handsome bridegroom stood at the altar with his best man, Mr. Alan Roundtree, a friend from Oxford. Gerard was dressed as she’d never seen him, in a superfine blue coat which made his eyes even bluer, a cream embroidered silk waistcoat, and pale pantaloons. A simple nosegay of white narcissus graced his button-hole. Apart from the day of the funeral, she’d never seen him wear anything quite so fine, but the simple clothes he preferred to wear around the estate suited him just as well in her opinion. She had hoped he found her pretty, and the hot glance he gave her as he slipped the gold band on her finger, told her all she needed to know.

Apart from the pastor and two witnesses, the church was almost empty, with only their immediate family, and the handful of friends who made the journey to see them wed. Tenant farmers and villagers gathered at the church door to see them off in their open carriage decorated with ribbons. The wedding breakfast was held at Pendleton Manor. After the meal, the fiddler played, and she and Gerard danced their first dance together, their bodies moving in perfect unison. “Harrison would have enjoyed this,” he said as he twirled her over the floor.

Harriett smiled, touched that he cared so much for the irascible old gentleman. She and the guests had stayed here the previous night. She was relieved that she never would again. A man with a large family who’d made his money in business, had signed a lease. The county was all abuzz with the news.

In the mid-afternoon, she and Gerard said their farewells. She kissed her mother, surprised to find her teary-eyed. When her father hugged her she breathed in the smell of his familiar tobacco. “I hope you and Mama will come to stay after Leonora is wed.”

“Yes, sir, please do,” Gerard said, shaking his hand.

Her father’s green eyes brightened. “I’m sure I can be of some help, you do spread yourself too thin, Gerard.”

“You would be of great assistance, sir,” Gerard said. “As you have been during this difficult time.”

He bowed and excused himself to farewell his best man.

“Gerard hardly needs to work so hard now that he’s wealthy.” Mama smiled. You’ll never want for anything, my dear. And neither will your sister.”

Leonora threw her arms around Harriett and kissed her cheek. “Promise you’ll come and visit Frederick and me in London. If I don’t have your promise, I suspect you’ll rusticate and turn into a country bumpkin.”

“I promise. Gerard is employing more staff, and once we’ve hired a steward and an estate manager, we’ll visit more often.” Harriett gazed over at her handsome husband. She knew that Gerard would still work around the estate, despite how much assistance he had. They had ridden together over his lands, before she returned to London. The tenants all appeared to love him. “We’ll be up for your wedding, don’t forget.”

Leonora’s eyes brightened. “Practically all of the ton will be there.”

They arrived at Foxworth to an unexpected welcome from the staff. Gerard introduced Harriett to each of them in turn, and their health was toasted with champagne. It was late afternoon when they climbed the stairs to their bedchamber.

Harriett found everything in the room charming, from the beamed ceiling to the floral carpet. Bunches of wild flowers decorated the bed posts, and a vase of summer flowers sat on the stone mantel.

“It’s perfect.” She smiled at him. “Did you arrange the flowers, Gerard?”

He paused, pulling of his coat. “Ah, no. I can’t say the romantic notion occurred to me.” He grinned. “It was Sally. But I agree, it’s a nice touch.”

The windows and the four poster bed were hung with a pretty, embroidered material that was almost threadbare. She hoped to match it and must employ her mother’s help. The view from the window looked over fields to the river. “Perhaps I’ll be able to see you at work.”

Coming to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her. “I expect you to join me out in the fields,” he murmured against her ear. “Bring me my plowman’s luncheon.”

Harriett swiveled and draped her arms around his neck. “I am at your command, my lord.”

“Then I command you to come to bed.” His eyes drank her in. “A perfect gown for my lovely bride. But you shall be even lovelier without it.”

Harriett’s shyness evaporated. Her passion blinded her to anything but him. Impatient, she unraveled his cravat, exposing the dark hair at the base of his throat and pulled his shirt from his pantaloons. She stroked her hand up over his hard stomach exploring the texture of his skin, soft as satin, and the dark triangle of hair decorating his broad chest, that narrowed toward his groin, wiry beneath her fingers.

“Making love in the afternoon might shock the servants,” she said, aware of the nervous throb in her stomach.

He drew his shirt over his head. “Only if we make love outdoors.”

“My lord!” The thought tantalized her.

“We’ll be discreet.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her passionately. At the bold caress of his tongue the blood hummed in her veins.

Gerard’s fingers became busy with the ties on her gown. “I’m now more familiar with this arrangement.”

She smiled, amused at his practical mind. Very soon, her breath deserted her. They were both naked. She marveled at his beauty and his difference. A man’s body was exciting. All steel and softness.

Gerard shaped the curve of her waist and hip with his big hands, then cupped her bottom, gently squeezing. “Whenever you walked away I was left with a vision of this perfect, heart-shaped derriere.”

She giggled.

His arousal pressed against her stomach. “Mm.” She daintily chewed his earlobe.

“Lady Foxworth!” He laughed and smacked her bottom.

“Should I call you by your title? Perhaps only when I’m angry with you.”

He grinned. “You had better not, madam.”

Shaping her breasts with his clever hands, he thumbed each nipple. They hardened, sending a charge of excitement down to her groin. She grew unsteady on her feet.

“My lovely wife, Harriett,” he said, his voice soft, almost incredulous.

“Am I now to be Harriett?”

“Shortly, you will be too grown up to be called Harry.”

He swept her into his arms and strolled with her to the bed, lowering her down before joining her. “Harry, my love,” he murmured, his body half over hers. She welcomed the weight of him, conscious of where his warm flesh touched hers. His uneven breathing feathered her hair as he held her, the rapid beat of his heart in rhythm with hers. Covering her face with small kisses, he took her mouth passionately. She moaned against his lips and buried her hands in his thick hair. Everywhere he touched set her on fire.

He moved down and teased at the sensitive nub at the apex of her thighs with his tongue, sucking and licking. Ignoring her entreaties, he pressed two fingers inside her. She gasped, and tugged at his hair, begging him to stop; then, twisting her head frantically, her legs fell open and she was carried away.

“Oh, Harry. I do love you.”

When the exquisite feeling faded she raised her eyelids to find heart-stopping tenderness mixed with desire in his eyes. “I love you so much, darling.”

She wanted to pleasure him, and circled his hard length, delighting at the pleasure her caress gave him. Her body clenched with need, she wanted him inside her.

Unfulfilled desire became intolerable for them both, and he lay between her thighs and carefully entered her.

It was extraordinary how he filled her, how complete she felt. He was gentle and tender with her. And although her mother had warned her, there was very little discomfort. They seemed to fit together perfectly.

He was right, she’d been a girl when she married. Replete, she curled her fingers in her husband’s dark hair, his cheek resting against her breast. She was now a woman. He had satisfied the needs of her body but not her curiosity.

She edged away from under his thigh which rested over hers. Turning on her side, she studied her new husband who lay with his eyes closed. She trailed a finger down his noble forehead, tracing his straight nose, which wrinkled under her fingers, and across his full lips that broadened into a smile under her touch, moving on to the cleft in his chin. She continued over his broad chest with its smattering of dark hair, slowly drawing a line down his ribbed stomach while avoiding his manhood, which twitched in response as if begging for her touch.

His eyelids raised to half-mast to watch her. Although that look in his eyes did spark a fresh rush of desire, she shook her head at him. She continued down one long muscled thigh and strong calf to his large foot, and bent to kiss his toes. The effect on his member was remarkable.

“You are torturing me, Harry!” he protested with a laugh.

She gave him a slow smile. “I am Harry again?”

He sat up with a wolfish grin. “You are my Harry all right.” He made a swift movement and suddenly, she was on her back.

♥

Gerard proceeded to draw a similar line from her sweet nose to her luscious mouth, where he lingered over her swollen lips, warning her with a glance when she attempted to nibble on his finger. He traced down the long beautiful column of her throat to the delicate curve of her collar bone. Then turned his attention to her pert breasts, circling each dusky areola which pebbled beneath his touch. Moving down, his mouth replaced his finger, tracing kisses over the flawless skin of her stomach. She raked her hands through his hair as he gave some attention to her belly button. When he reached the sensitive place between her thighs, he was hard as a rock again. He lifted his head to gaze at her as his fingers tangled in the curls. “This is your Venus mound, Harry,” he growled, stroking within her folds.

Harriett threw her head back and moaned. She arched her body against his hand.

Gerard moved her to the edge of the bed. His breathing ragged, he drew her thighs up to cradle his hips, the head of his staff nudging her entrance. “You’re not sore?”

At her fervent denial he buried himself in her sweet heat and thrust deeply, faster and harder than before. He watched the emotions play on her lovely face as he tipped her over the edge and she joined him in a whirlpool of emotion, love and lust, and desire. Her body tightened around him and she cried out.

“Harry!” He gave in to his own release, filling her. “My Harry,” he murmured, as he collapsed beside her.

She gave an exhausted giggle. “Whatever will the servants think?”

“My servants are loyal.” He chuckled. “They’ll keep quiet if they know what’s good for them.”

He rolled over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arm.

“Are you falling asleep, Gerard?”

“Have a heart, Harry,” he said wearily. “It’s going to be a short life I suspect. But a merry one.”

She laughed and snuggled up to him. “I shall let you sleep awhile.”

“Yes, and then...we have a lifetime to discover one another, my love.”

♥

Harriett pulled the cover over them and curled up close beside her sleeping husband. Even in repose, he was like a graceful, Greek god. She looked forward to the simple, happy days spent working at his side, until they were old, if the fates decreed it, supporting one another through the joys and sorrows that life brought them.