He’d tried to hold back. Tried to be gentle. He’d tried his damnedest to make sure she was as prepared as a woman can be for her first time.
But still that first thrust almost send Maitland over the edge.
He clenched his teeth against the need to pound himself into her, to let go of the desire he’d tried desperately to keep banked while tending to her needs. She was worth it, he knew, but dear God, he was desperate to let go.
“Yes?” he asked, echoing his earlier question to her, praying that her response would be affirmative. If he had to stop now, it might kill him.
He’d do it. He had to. But he would weep.
“Yes,” she said, and whether consciously or not, her hot, sweet sheath clenched around him, and before she even finished the approving syllable he was lost.
Moving against her, struggling to keep his thrusts decorous—if such a thing were even possible—he felt beads of sweat roll down his back as he pressed into her. Again and again, then needing to be closer, he brought his arms beneath her knees again, this time pressing her wide so that there was not even a breath of space between them.
And all the while, Daphne, moved beneath him. If there was pain, she gave no indication of it. Instead she writhed and bucked as much as she could in the position, and with each thrust he felt her clench around him.
He tried to hold out as long as he could, but after months of waiting and wanting, the feel of her tight body clasping him was too much for finesse. He sped up his thrusts, and when he stroked his thumb over her sensitive nub, she cried out, trembling beneath him as her crisis took her. Free to let go at last, he pounded into her three more times before he emptied himself within her in a shout of relief.
He came back to himself slowly, but fully aware that the soft body cushioning him was Daphne.
Daphne.
Reluctantly, he withdrew and eased onto his back beside her. “I’m sorry.” Keeping her in the circle of his arms, unable to stop himself from touching her, he stroked a thumb across the soft skin of her shoulder. “I must have been heavy.”
But she must not have minded, because she curled into his side, and stroked a hand over his chest, toying with the light dusting of hair there.
“Is it always like that?” she asked, her breath soft against his skin as she spoke.
He huffed out a laugh, still a bit breathless. “It most definitely is not.” He thought back to his previous lovers, though the very act felt disloyal somehow. But he could never recall being so … drunk … with passion before. Certainly, he hadn’t felt the sort of protectiveness he did for the woman in his arms.
What that said about his chivalry, he didn’t like to think.
When he didn’t elaborate, she went on, “Ivy seems to think she and Lord Kerr are quite good at it.”
Dalton raised his eyelids and found her watching him. He wasn’t sure he wished to think about his cousin and his wife together.
No, he was certain he didn’t wish to think of it.
Though considering that he and Kerr were cousins, it stood to reason that …
“I think we are better,” Daphne said, breaking into his thoughts. Then her words sank in.
“You’re quite the competitive little thing, aren’t you?” He met her mouth for a kiss.
She settled her head back down upon his shoulder. “I’m better than all the other ladies at mathematics of course, but I did think that because Ivy is married she would have surpassed the rest of us at lovemaking. Especially considering that her husband clearly has a great deal of exp—”
He stopped her mouth with a kiss. “Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about such things, my dear. It could make things rather awkward for me the next time my cousin and I are left to our port after dinner if I’m thinking about him in bed with his wife.”
And that statement reminded him of Beauchamp House and all the changes awaiting them as soon as they left the cocoon of this room and returned to their normal lives. He sighed into her hair.
Before she could continue with her speculation about Lord and Lady Kerr, he said, “When we return home, I’ll set out for London to obtain a special license. It shouldn’t take above a day or so if the weather holds.”
She pulled back a little, eyes wide. “So soon? We still have to visit your aunt’s solicitor in Hastings. And there is the matter of informing the magistrate of what we’ve found.”
And just like that, the spell was broken, and they were thrust back into the everyday world.
He sat up against the pillows as she held the sheet to cover her nudity. She’d never been more beautiful.
“There’s nothing to be done for it,” he said, watching as she examined her hands, not meeting his eyes. “We can’t risk Pinky spreading word of seeing us here. The new vicar has been established at the church, so we can marry in a few days’ time I should think.”
He could tell that she didn’t like the idea, though whether because it was sooner than she wished or because she didn’t wish it at all he couldn’t guess. Either way she would have to adapt. Because marry they would. On that matter, at least, he would not budge for one reason that was of the utmost importance.
“There might be a child, Daphne,” he said. They could both endure ruined reputations if necessary, but he would not place that sort of burden on an innocent.
Her eyes widened, and instinctively she rested a hand on her softly curved belly. “I hadn’t considered that,” she admitted with troubled eyes.
He didn’t like worrying her, but she was an intelligent woman. She deserved to know all of his reasons for wishing to marry her.
“Come,” he said kissing her one last time before he began gathering his clothes from the floor, “we should have time to get back before dinner.”
He pulled on his breeches and watched shamelessly as she followed suit, though the sheet covered her spectacular bottom as she bent to retrieve her chemise.
Pity, that.
Slipping into her stays, Daphne said thoughtfully, “If we had a child, it would very likely be quite intelligent. And beautiful.”
“With my stunning good looks and your brain,” he said with a grin, “how could it possibly be otherwise?”
* * *
As luck would have it, they were met at the entrance to Beauchamp House by Ivy, who took one look at their disheveled state and called for hot baths and tea for them both. And soon Daphne found herself in her dressing room, soaking in a lavender-scented tub. Her maid fussed over her tangled hair and damp clothes and made sure that her robe was warmed by the fire before she wrapped herself in it.
Though she would have liked some time alone to consider what had happened with Dalton at the inn, she found her fellow bluestockings waiting for her in the seating area of her bedchamber.
“Here,” said Sophia, handing her a cup of tea as she took the overstuffed chair they’d obviously left vacant for her. “Summer might be at hand, but these storms can be quite chilling. We don’t wish you to catch your death.”
“I am quite warm, thank you,” Daphne said, though she took the proffered tea and drank. Dalton had done a thorough job of warding off any chill the rain had left her with. Though she was oddly reluctant to tell her friends that. Their response to her confession that she’d propositioned him before had been swift and scandalized.
“What did you learn?” Ivy asked, settling back with her own tea. For the barest moment, Daphne thought she was talking about that interlude with Dalton, and her eyes widened.
“Did you find the clue with Mr. Renfrew as you’d hoped?” Gemma clarified.
Relieved, Daphne nodded. “Yes, we did. It took a bit of doing because Mr. Renfrew is suffering from the effects of old age, but we did manage after a bit.”
She explained how the former steward’s daughter had let them search the man’s belongings until they found the clue from Lady Celeste. Dalton had the actual note, but she’d memorized it and recited it for the other ladies now.
“So you believe she means the next clue is with her solicitor in Battle?” Ivy asked, after they’d discussed the likely interpretation of “Themis’ shining sword.” “I can’t help but agree. Themis is often used to symbolize justice and the law. Well done, both of you.”
Daphne blushed a little at the praise. “It was mostly Dalt … um, the duke, who guessed the meaning. As you know my classical knowledge is not what yours is.”
“Dalton, is it?” Sophia asked with a sly smile. “Do I take it the two of you grew a bit closer on your journey?”
“Hush, Sophia,” her sister chided. “They are betrothed—even if it’s only a temporary ruse. It’s hardly shocking that she would use his Christian name.”
“About that,” Ivy said with an inquisitive look. “Was I mistaken or did Maitland not eschew the hot bath I had brought up for him and call for his horse to be saddled and his valet to pack a bag? Surely he isn’t going to Battle on his own?”
Daphne didn’t bother trying to dissemble. “I believe he is traveling to London for a special license.”
Silence fell on the usually chatty group.
“It must have been a very eventful journey, indeed,” Sophia said with a speaking look at her sister for chiding her earlier.
“I must say,” Gemma said with a little shake of her head, “if my sister and I do not wish to become betrothed, we must of necessity avoid going out in a gentleman’s company when a storm is likely.”
She referred, Daphne knew, to Ivy’s betrothal to Lord Kerr following their being caught out during a rainstorm. Daphne wondered if her friend and her husband had spent their rainstorm in a similar activity. Curious.
Ivy pursed her lips, but ignored them. Instead, she turned to Daphne and touched her lightly on the arm. “Is all well? Are you agreeable to the match? Because if not, I can speak to Kerr and have him put his cousin off for a bit.”
But despite her reluctance when Dalton had mention a special license earlier, she was determined to go through with the marriage. Her own reputation might not be of primary importance to her, but she knew that Maitland took his gentlemanly honor quite seriously.
She may not have considered marriage to be something she wanted before, but if she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t exactly dreading marriage to the duke. If anything, she was rather looking forward to it. She cared nothing for his title or wealth. But the fact that he was able to rouse fire in her with barely a look was certainly an enticement.
If what they shared in bed was as unusual as all that, she was reluctant to give it up for a life of lonely solitude. That only a few months ago she’d looked forward to such a life was an irony she found amusing.
And she had come, in the past weeks, to value his reliability and even temper. If he’d been a different sort of man, one like her father, for instance, she could have ignored the other benefits. But his passion coupled with his personality made the match that much more appealing.
Then there was the matter of a possible child. Something far too monumental for her to consider as anything more than an abstraction now. Though the very idea made her chest tighten with emotion she dared not name.
So, in answer to Ivy’s question, she didn’t need to be rescued.
“There is no need for anything like that,” she told Lady Kerr with a shake of her head. “We are agreed upon the matter. Indeed, I am sanguine.”
“Did you…?” Gemma looked troubled. “That is to say, did you tell him about what Mr. Sommersby did to you?”
At the mention of Sommersby, Daphne was surprised to find that she no longer felt the same sort of dread on hearing his name as before. Had Dalton managed to exorcise the demon of the other man’s assault once and for all?
“He knows,” she said with a small nod. “And it is likely a very good thing that Sommersby was dead before he learned of it.”
“Speaking of Sommersby’s death,” Ivy said, “I believe the magistrate wished to speak to you again this afternoon. He called while you were both still gone. He would not tell Quill why he’d called however. Though I suppose that has more to do with their history than anything else.”
Quill had had a liaison with the other man’s wife in his salad days.
“Perhaps tomorrow we can call upon him,” Daphne said, thinking that since Maitland would be away, and it felt somehow disloyal to travel to Battle without him, this would be a way for her to continue their investigation without breaking his trust. “He very likely will not be able to shed any light on the search for the cipher, but he should be aware that the killer likely has another clue.”
From downstairs, the dinner gong sounded, and Ivy, Sophia, and Gemma rose.
“I believe I’ll have a tray in my room,” Daphne said, suddenly feeling exhausted from the events of the day. And if she were honest, dinner without Maitland there to entertain her with amusing stories and silly teases sounded dreadfully dull.
Hanging back from the others, Ivy waited until the Hastings sisters were gone before saying in a low voice, “If you have any questions, Daphne, or would like to know if anything is … irregular…”
Daphne’s brows drew together. It took her a moment to catch the other lady’s meaning. And when she did, she felt her whole face turn red.
“Oh, no!” she said with a shake of her head. “There is nothing … that is to say I do not have any…”
Ivy nodded. “I thought I’d offer my counsel, nonetheless. It can be unsettling at first, but it can be quite enjoyable if you let it.”
“I’m not sure I understand you,” Daphne said with a frown. Her experience with Dalton had been more than simply enjoyable. “It was … magnificent.”
At her pronouncement, Ivy grinned. “I am relieved to hear it. I don’t mind telling you Kerr was brilliant that first time, too, but my mama refused to hear it. I thought perhaps my experience was singular. And feared yours would prove to be more as she described.”
Daphne shrugged. “Perhaps it is a generational difference?”
Ivy nodded. “I confess I don’t like to think of it too closely since it means thinking about my parents together like that.” She gave a delicate shudder.
Having never met Ivy’s parents, Daphne couldn’t say one way or the other.
“In any event,” Ivy continued, “I am glad to hear you are content with that aspect of the relationship. But I do hope you’ll come to me if that should change. I like to think we ladies should stick together in such matters, though there seems to be a societal taboo about talking openly about them.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Daphne said. “Though I am perhaps not the one who needs to be encouraged to strive for more candor.”
“And on that note,” Ivy said with a laugh, “I’ll be off.”
When she was gone, Daphne crawled into her bed, and as soon as she closed her eyes she was back in the little room at The Bo Peep.
She fell asleep remembering just how safe she’d felt in Dalton’s arms.