Chapter 27
Even though Mrs. Birdwhistle was a married lady at one time, she was free with her advice on how to arrange one’s life without a man. Why, oh why, did she never compose a treatise on how to live with one?
—from Lady Caroline’s diary
Riding was torture. Caroline ached all the way to the border. She’d never wanted so badly, even though she wasn’t quite sure where the wanting would lead. She was confident Lawrence knew how to still that ache, and that he’d take care of the confusing sensations still coursing through her body.
Drat the man for his overblown devotion to what was right!
But then, as her body settled a bit, she began to rethink things. She realized she should be grateful for Lawrence’s sense of honor. It meant his vow of faithfulness would be worth something.
By the time she spoke the words with him at the first smith’s forge they came to once they crossed the border, she thanked God for Lawrence Sinclair. This good man would always care for her, always protect her, always put her needs first. His calm, steady soul was the sea on which she would launch her life.
There was no one like him.
And if I never see Zanzibar, I’ll still die a happy woman simply because I loved this man.
Once the quick ceremony was over, Lawrence paid the smith for officiating and asked him if there was an inn nearby.
“The closest lies another ten miles to the north, in the next glen but one,” the smith said with a grin. Then he took in Caroline’s elegant, albeit grass-stained riding habit. “I canna vouch for its cleanliness, though.”
Lawrence glanced upward to measure the sun’s progress across the sky. “Can’t be much past noon. We can be back at Ware in time for supper.”
Caroline bit back her disappointment, but she agreed it was the best plan. Her mother would be frantic if she didn’t return by nightfall. Bredon would likely organize a search party. He’d scour the hills with a pack of hunting dogs and hire every available villager to beat the bushes.
They rode southward at a more leisurely pace. Once they passed the stone boundary fence that marked the northernmost edge of Ware, Lawrence began pointing out some of the landmarks to her. He had bought a meat pie from the smith’s wife so they’d have something to eat on the way. Both of them had skipped breakfast, so they stopped by a rollicking stream, hobbled their horses, and had a rustic picnic.
“Never let it be said I neglect my wife’s appetite,” he said as he used his boot knife to slice the pie.
“What kind of meat is it?” Caroline asked, eyeing the pie with suspicion.
Lawrence shrugged. “It came from the place that gave the world haggis, so perhaps it’s best if we don’t inquire too deeply into the ingredients.”
But whatever had gone into its making, the pie was delicious. Its crust was light and layered, the filling thick and well-spiced.
“This might just be hunger talking,” Caroline said as she licked her fingers, “but that may be the best mysterious meat pie I ever ate.”
Lawrence caught one of her hands and brought it to his mouth. Then he sucked a dab of filling off her pinky. His gaze intense, he watched her as he did it. That low ache inside her began again.
“There are other kinds of hunger,” he said.
“Never let it be said I neglect my husband’s appetite,” she said lightly. Then suddenly serious, she leaned toward him and pressed her mouth to his neck, tasting his skin, salty and warm. Beneath her lips, his pulse quickened. “But I don’t know what to do. Please, Lawrence. Show me how to love you.”
“Just be your sweet self.” He gathered her in his arms and she melted into them. His hands slid over her, taking his time. He trailed his broad fingers over the charged surface of her bare wrists. Shivers raced through her.
Then he turned his attention to her bodice, helping her out of her jacket and shirt until she was only in her chemise and stays from the waist up. She mirrored his movements, revealing more of the mysteries of this man as she discarded each article of clothing. She traced circles across his shoulders and then down his chest. She loved the feel of him, hard and hot under her fingertips.
He found her mouth and poured himself into the kiss while his fingers worked the laces on her stays. After she wiggled out of her long, full skirt, he spread it on the ground. The yards of fabric made an admirable blanket. They rolled together on it as he kissed her again, more deeply this time. She helped him pull up her thin chemise, grudgingly breaking off the kiss only for the brief time it took to yank the fabric over her head. He made short work of her pantalettes.
She was suddenly naked as Eve. Yet she felt no shame.
His hot gaze traveled the length of her, from the crown of her head to her curled toes. It was right that he should. She was his, after all. “I’m glad you made us wait.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I can,” he admitted, love shining in his dark eyes. “But I want this to be good for you.”
“I’m with my husband. How could it not be?”
He caressed her bare breasts, his hands warm and strong. Caroline felt as if she’d swallowed a sunburst. Blood sang warmly through her veins. That low ache became a throbbing drumbeat.
She tugged at his trousers and slid them down his hard thighs.
Caroline knew what men looked like. She and Freddie and Horatia had slipped away from old Anna Creassy’s watchful eye and sneaked into an exhibit of Greek statuary once. But nothing she’d seen preserved in marble prepared her for the glory of the real thing.
Lawrence was ready for her, but when she touched him, he shuddered and pulled her hand away.
“Not yet.” The huskiness of his voice told her he was struggling for control.
Then he rolled toward her, and she found she’d moved off the blanket of her skirt. Her bare back was cushioned by grass. It was cool and soft against her skin, the long blades tickling her. She raised her arms over her head in surrender. Lawrence began exploring her with his mouth, down the side of her neck, grazing her collarbone, and finally suckling her.
She arched into his mouth. She was his, totally and completely. Whatever he wanted, she’d give.
But when he raised his head to meet her eyes, Caroline saw that her new husband did not intend to take. He wanted to give.
And he surely did.
Pleasure washed over her as he touched and teased her in the most surprising of places. He nuzzled her navel. He tongued the soft creases of her knees and elbows. His hands explored the dip of her back. Lawrence led her through an incoming tide of exquisite torment.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, gasping when his teeth lightly grazed her.
“I’ll show you more later,” he said hoarsely. “This time is for you.”
He moved down her body.
Caroline moaned his name. She writhed under him. She clutched at his shoulders. She begged him to stop.
She feared he might.
When he finally relented and started to enter her, she cried out in relief.
He bit his lip, straining to hold back, but she urged him forward with incoherent little sounds. She couldn’t have formed a real word just then if her hope of Heaven depended on it. Then he pushed in with one long thrust. Pain ripped through her.
She didn’t care.
Lawrence was hot and hard and strong. The wonder of holding him inside her was such bliss, it far outweighed the quick pain. A tear slid down her cheek.
He saw it and held himself motionless. “Are you all right?”
“I’m better than all right. I’m yours. It’s a happy tear.”
He began to move, and she answered him. Heart on heart, skin on skin, they were becoming one being. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, they strained against each other, surged into each other. Pleasure and pain blurred, but all that mattered was being joined to this man, this frustratingly honorable, this quietly unknowable, this singular man who was now her husband.
Caroline had the strange sensation of standing with her toes hanging off the very edge of a precipice. Then suddenly she plunged over it. All sense of herself burned away in throbbing joy.
She and Lawrence had created something new between them. Whatever happened in the future, wherever she went, she would always carry a piece of Lawrence’s soul with her, and he would carry hers. She’d never be alone again.
What a strange thought. She wondered if she’d gone a bit mad.
Then the madness seemed to subside. Lawrence rolled onto his back, pulled the skirt around her to cover her, and snugged her against his side.
“At the risk of starting this marriage off on the wrong foot, I have to tell you, husband, you were right.”
“I was?”
“Yes. By waiting until after our vows, what we just did wasn’t the least bit wicked,” she said. Freddie and Horatia would never guess at some of what passed between a man and a woman in a million years. Not that Caroline had any intention of enlightening them. This was just for her and Lawrence. “Though I must admit, parts of it were quite surprising.”
“I hope that means you approve,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, I do. And it’s not just me. God does, too. All this falls under the creation story, you know, and the Bible tells us He called his creation good.”
“I had no idea you were such a theologian,” Lawrence said. “Hmm. It’s been a while since I was in church, but I seem to recall that God said it was very good.”
She tugged at his chest hair. “Is that your way of fishing for a compliment?”
“No.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Just a repeat performance.”