The Patriot Bride (9 page)

Hannah couldn’t think of a thing to say in response, so she kept her mouth shut and simply lay there, praying he would do whatever it was that he was going to do and get it over with so that she could drift into the oblivion of sleep.

Wolf sighed at her silence, but could still hear her occasional sniffle. He hadn’t moved his hand a bit since she’d made her grab for it, but now he continued its descent until it covered and cupped that intriguing mound, noting with satisfaction how her nipple poked insistently into his palm. She might not like the punishments she was receiving, or the attentions he was paying to her now, but her body did. He made a wager with himself that he would find the lovely area between her legs nicely moist, and as he reached down to claim that area for the first time, he bent his head and captured her nearest nipple, suckling strongly.

The sensations he was causing made Hannah’s eyes fly wide open, all traces of sleep gone from her mind and her body. When she should have been raging at him for having the audacity to touch her in a place she barely ever touched herself, she was too completely overcome by the insistent tugging of those soft lips at her achingly peaked nipple, forcing it to become even more engorged and sensitive as he flicked his tongue maddeningly over the tip. She wanted, all at once, to cringe away from him, into the mattress, which was, of course, what he’d just warned her against doing. But the reaction that scared her most was that she wanted to arch into him, to offer him every inch of her breast in hopes that he would never, ever stop what he was doing to her.

But that hand of his didn’t stop there. He tapped each of her thighs, once, imperiously, obviously expecting instantaneous obedience. And Hannah had to sigh at herself as tears once again welled in her eyes. He was going to get it. Well, as close to it as she would probably ever get.

She moved her legs a scant inch apart, only to get tapped again, more firmly. Her thighs crept another inch or so apart, and she could hear – as well as feel – his exasperated sigh against her breast just before his sharp teeth bit down on her nipple with just enough force to make her squawk indignantly. Hannah had forgotten how nasty he could be in all the pleasurable feelings he was conjuring. It was a rude awakening, and an ignominious defeat. She opened her legs widely, in a manner that was truly humiliating, and his hand immediately moved in to claim the new territory she’d exposed.

Hannah’s face was flaming at least as red as her bottom at the mere thought of where his hand was, and yet he couldn’t seem to wait to explore every inch of that very intimate area. He was using his thick middle finger to part those secret lips, venturing boldly into virgin territory as if he knew more about it than she did, and he probably did.

She was trying her best not to squirm, not wanting to lose a nipple or earn herself another spanking, but it wasn’t easy, especially when he was so damned triumphant to find the broad tip of his finger wet. “Mmmmm. I knew it,” he breathed, laving her nipple extravagantly. “You’re wet.”

Hannah wiggled a bit, experimentally, desperately wanting to sit up and throw him off. There was only reason she could think of that she would be wet down there, and she didn’t even know what he’d done with the rags she usually used to take care of the monthly inconvenience.

Wolf chuckled softly. “This isn’t your monthly flow, Hannah. It’s the way your body lets me know that you like what I’m doing to it.”

“I most certainly do not!” she replied vehemently, in her most affronted tone.

“My slippery finger makes a liar out of you, Hannah.” He kept dipping shallowly into the well, then bringing the slick treasure up to the top of her mound.

Then, all at once, he laid the callused pad of that bold finger over the fleshy nub he’d been christening, rubbing it very slowly and deliberately.

And Hannah thought she was going to die from the decadent pleasure of it all. Her body didn’t give her a choice this time – it arched up to greet his every movement, her hips bucking and writhing and trying to wring every scrap of sensation out of the contact between that fingertip and a hitherto undiscovered part of her body. She’d never experienced anything like this. She couldn’t even comprehend how much exquisite ecstasy that tiny touch was inflicting on her all too willing body. Her mind was useless as he set her body awash with passion, all with the simple, consistent flick of a finger.

When he reclaimed her nipple, it sent her careening over the edge and she exploded in his hands, writhing and wiggling and arching, all but coming apart as he held her anchored within his strong arms. Wolf took in everything about her reaction – it was so violent and entirely unguarded. He wasn’t used to that. When he’d pleasured women of Quality, they barely made a peep, not wanting to give him too much encouragement. But Hannah – her body was stiff and her hands were groping the air for something, and her moans nearly made him forget the very good reasons why he couldn’t find his own release within her.

Those eyes remained abnormally wide after he’d felt the contractions diminish, and every inch of her began to tremble. Concerned, Wolf turned her wooden body towards him, almost missing her fervent whisper.

“Wh-wh-what was that?”

Relieved that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her – other than that she was apparently terrified by her own release, Wolf gathered her up and held her tight, rocking slightly out of nothing other than pure instinct. “No one else has done that for you?” he asked rhetorically. He really preferred not to hear about anyone else she had been with.

“No one else?” she asked, confused. Surely he couldn’t think that anyone else had touched her where he just had? She couldn’t even deal with the fact that his hand had been down there, and he was supposedly her husband.

Wolf didn’t want her to go any further, so he leaned down and kissed her, effectively – and pleasurably – stifling any names of men that he would need to kill. When he ended the kiss, he leaned back just a bit to explain. “That was your pleasure. The French call it ‘the little death’. Others,” the word dripped with disgust, “might not have been up to it, but I can promise you that that’s going to happen every time I touch you like this.” He moved one hand to cup her between her legs.

Hannah squealed again, trying to get her arms down to where he was manhandling her again, but he wouldn’t allow it. She was too stuck on the idea the idea that he was expecting that this was going to be some sort of regular occurrence to dwell on his disparaging comments, although he was calming her almost against her will with his soft tone and gentle touches.

Both of his hands came up to cup her head, but she could still feel something that she knew she didn’t own, poking insistently at her nether area, and his kisses were growing deeper and deeper, his tongue coaxing her own to come out and play.

Eventually, though, Wolf could stand it no longer. He knew he was just torturing himself. He certainly could introduce her to other ways of satisfying him, but he decided he really didn’t want to do that. Instead, he put her on her back, but kept a hold of her. He’d never been one for cuddling much, but he was beginning to see the merits in it with her.

She was unmistakably tired, not fighting against him at all, and yawning frequently. But he needed to ask her a question before she fell asleep and he forgot. “When was your last monthly flow?” He had to know when he might be able to expect some sort of relief.

Hannah was appalled. “Husband or not, I’m not going to discuss such things with you,” she asserted, trying to roll away from him. “And the least you could do is be a gentleman and sleep on the floor.”

Wolf ground his teeth. “I told you before. We’re going to sleep together.” Even if it killed him, he didn’t add, tightening his arms around her.

Hannah was disgusted with herself. She seemed to have lost control of her body entirely. Her mind wanted her to stay wake and argue several points with her supposed husband. But she could barely keep her eyes open. She wanted to remain stiff and unyielding against him, but she could only hold that position for a few seconds, until her body betrayed her and melted against him. Her eyelids were slowly drooping closed, and she was losing the battle to keep them open even a little.

Wolf felt her relaxing against him without having answered his question, and he resisted the urge to shake her awake. She was exhausted, and he knew from experience what kind of toll that kind of pleasure could wreak on a body, although he couldn’t remember his own first time.

He found himself still holding her, long after she’d fallen asleep, and occasionally kiss the soft hair at the top of her head. It was unlike him to be so affectionate, and he didn’t know exactly why she was affecting him this way. Perhaps it was because they were married, and as much as possible he wanted to get off on a good food, although he readily admitted to himself that he’d probably already ruined that possibility. But he didn’t want to live in enmity for the rest of his life. His parents had had a reasonably good partnership – given the fact that his mother could be somewhat overbearing and flighty. He wanted at least an amicable existence with the woman who had become his wife, and he felt he could do that. As long as she did as she was told.

Barely awake, Wolf rose and donned a robe, then went to the door, cracking it just the slightest bit. “This had better be good, Corporal.”

Hannah was still mostly asleep, but she could hear the hesitation in the young man’s voice, recognizing it from her own when she dealt with this annoying, overbearing man.

“It’s a letter from your mother, Sir. It’s marked urgent.”

Wolf sighed. Whatever was happening to or with his mother, he somehow doubted it was particularly urgent. And what did she think he could do about it from halfway across the world, anyway? He grabbed the letter the corporal proffered, and closed the door on him, then leaned against it, tearing the envelope, emblazoned with the aforementioned “Urgent”, and read his mother’s latest epistle.

But it wasn’t from his mother. It was from Lady Dorchester, who was one of her best friends, and apparently his mother was actually ill. Of course, the letter was dated more than two months ago, but he was certainly going to do every thing he could to get back to her, although by now she had already either recovered or not, and he didn’t like to think about the possibility of “not." His mother might be a pest, but he loved her. And, in some ways, she was his trust right arm, because she – and the man who had been his father’s assistant – kept the estates running in his absence, although she had always taken him to task for leaving those things in her hands. She loved it, and it made her feel needed.

Grimacing, he stalked to the cabined and began to dress, completely ignoring Hannah, who wasn’t about to be ignored.

Unable to stop herself from nosing into his business, partly because she was curious about him, and partly because she thought this might afford her the possibility of getting him away from her, rather than the other way around, Hannah asked as sweetly as she could, “Is your mother all right?”

Her assumed husband gave her a weathered eye, saying, “No, she’s not. I’m going to have to resign my commission and go home, I’m afraid.”

Hannah liked the sound of that. This morning was getting better and better. Much better than yesterday had been, by a long shot. “Oh. I’m sorry she’s ill.”

He sighed in exasperation. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll send Mr. Crandall up with some breakfast.” He was preoccupied, but not so much that he didn’t remember to take the time to warn her that she didn’t want to press her luck with him right now.

Before he got up from the bed, fully – and impressively, Hannah had to note reluctantly to herself – dressed, he bent over and took her chin in his fingers, requiring that she look up at him. “Davis is going to be right outside your room until I get back, so don’t be thinking that you’re going to have a chance to get away. I want you to stay here and behave. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He gave her a quick kiss, then left within seconds, taking with him the revolver she’d tried to use on him last night. He didn’t want a repeat of that situation. Being held at gunpoint by one’s wife was a once in a lifetime experience.

Once he’d left, Hannah had a hard time containing her glee. He’d said “I”, not “we” when referring to the fact that he had to return to England. She was trying not to get her hopes up too much that he would simply let her go. Surely he knew by now that this marriage was not what she wanted, and no one would ever have to know about it. He could, if he wanted, formally divorce her, but since she had absolutely no intentions of ever setting foot on English soil again, she really didn’t see any reason for it. It wasn’t as if she was suddenly appear on his doorstep ten years from now and demand her wifely rights, especially, as far as Hannah could tell, there were precious few of those.

She said exactly as much to him when he arrived back in the room in the middle of the afternoon, but he was only half paying attention to her. When Wolf finally stopped darting around – as much as a man of his size could – and began to listen to what she was saying, the movers he’d hired had already arrived, and he set them to collecting her things first.

But Hannah actually put herself bodily in front of her belongings, meager though they were. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“They’re going to take your things onto the ship. I’ve booked us passage on one of the fastest schooners around – we’ll make it to England in about a month and a half, or less, if the weather’s with us. We leave tomorrow.”