To Love a Scoundrel (Zebra Historical Romance) (35 page)

He let out his breath in a hiss. He could not deny her,
not now, not with such an invitation as that.

Eleanor gasped as Frederick's lips trailed a hot, wet
path down her throat, toward her breasts, his hands
reaching beneath her chemise. Suddenly too weak to
stand, she sank back to the bench, leaning against the
cool ivory keys which rang out a disharmonious tune in
affront.

While one of his hands traced a path up her thigh, the
other tugged at her stays' lacings, his mouth moving
lower still, pushing away her chemise's fabric. Her heart
racing, she tugged at the lacings herself till the stays fell
away, dropping to her feet. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she guided his mouth lower still, gasping when his
teeth grazed one sensitive nipple, the skin taut with
desire.

She shuddered as an unfamiliar heat coursed through
her veins, making her suddenly dizzy, her thighs slightly
damp. With a sharp tug on her chemise, he bared both
her breasts to his hungry gaze. As his tongue made slow,
deliberate circles around one nipple, she became
vaguely aware of his fingers, teasing her entrance, rubbing against her most private place. Instinctively, her
thighs clamped together, but in seconds he'd coaxed
them open once more.

A soft moan escaped her lips as he began to suckle
her, gently at first, then more insistently. Her head
tipped back, onto the keys. Dear lord, but this was
wicked. Wonderful and wicked, all at once. She struggled to sit, to reach for him, to beg for ... something.
Something to ease the exquisite ache that was building
inside her, making her breathless with desire.

He only pressed her back again, his mouth leaving
one breast and moving to the other. Between her legs,
she felt one finger slide inside her, and she cried out as
he began to stroke her, making her entire body tremble
with need. "Frederick, I ... what's happening? I ... oh!"

"Shhh, love," he murmured, drawing away from her
breasts. His gaze raked over her, his eyes dark with
desire. "Damn, but you're beautiful. You must know that
I've never ... it's never .. " She saw him swallow hard.
"I've never before wanted anyone as I want you now."

"Then take me," she whispered. "Now, before I go
mad with it."

He nodded, taking a step back from her. His eyes
never once leaving hers, he pulled his linen up and over
his head, then reached down to pull off his boots and unfasten his breeches. In seconds, he stepped out of
them, standing there proudly bare before her.

Eleanor allowed her curious gaze to trail from the
hard, smooth planes of his muscled chest downward, to
his abdomen, following the thin line of dark hair lower
still till it reached his fully erect manhood-splendid in
all its glory.

At once her gaze flew upward, back to his face,
where amusement lit his features. She smiled in appreciation, in invitation, wishing desperately to feel his
mouth upon her once more, his hard body pressed
against hers.

Her legs shaking dangerously, she stood, thinking
that perhaps he'd carry her to the settee. Instead, he took
two long strides toward her, pressing her back against
the pianoforte. In one fluid motion, he pulled her chemise over head, tossing it over the music stand behind
her. "I ... I don't see ... how," she murmured in confusion, the heels of her hands pressing hard against the
keys as he fitted himself between her thighs, his hardness pressing insistently against her opening.

With a groan, his mouth captured hers, his body
pressing her back so that she nearly sat upon the keyboard. And then he slid upward against her, entering
her. Inhaling sharply, she tensed, her muscles tightening against the tip of his shaft.

He stilled, his mouth nuzzling her neck. "I'll try my
best not to hurt you, love. I vow to make it as pleasurable as possible"

She nodded, her breath coming so fast now that she
feared she might faint.

And then, with one sharp but sure movement, he
sheathed himself entirely within her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as a sharp, burning sensation temporarily stole her breath away. But just as quickly the pain ebbed away and her skin began to
tingle, her pulse to accelerate as a delicious sensation
overcame her.

Grasping her chin, Frederick tipped her face up, his
gaze searching hers. "Are you hurt?" he asked, nothing
but concern, but love, there in his eyes.

In reply, she moved against him, tilting her hips,
seeking a rhythm. Reaching beneath her, he lifted her
off her feet, wrapping her legs about his waist as he answered her call, pumping himself into her again and
again, till she began to lose her focus, crying out his
name, over and over again.

At once it seemed as if the earth fell away beneath
her, wave after wave of pure and potent pleasure gripping her. Her insides pulsed against his shaft-still
buried deeply inside her-and then his cries joined hers,
his hot seed filling her.

"My God, Eleanor," he gasped, his head thrown back
as he lowered her back to the bench.

For a moment, she could not speak. Her breath was
ragged, her thoughts entirely muddled. She took several
deep breaths, forcing her racing heart to slow. At last
she found her voice, however tremulous. "Is it always as
lovely as that?"

"Never," he said forcefully, clutching her tightly.
"Never before"

"Exactly as it should be," she murmured, smiling
now.

"You realize we cannot wait till Christmastide now,
don't you?"

Releasing him at last, she plucked her chemise from
the music stand behind her. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean we must marry right away. Without delay.
We might have started a child. Devil take it, I hope we
did start a child," he added, reaching for his breeches.

"Do you really? So soon? I did not know you were so
eager for fatherhood"

"The thought of you, bearing my child ..." He
cleared his throat. "Are you not anxious for motherhood? For there are things that can be done to prevent
it, if you are not ready-"

"I'm quite ready, Frederick," Eleanor said with a
laugh, pulling the chemise over her head. "But I had
always hoped for a Christmas wedding."

"Had you?"

Eleanor nodded, retrieving her sprigged muslin gown
from the floor and stepping into it. "At the parish
church, Selina as my bridesmaid. Holly and ivy for decoration-"

"And your belly round with child?" he asked with a
laugh.

"No, you rogue. Here"-she presented him her
back-"can you fasten this?"

"Must I? I'm not certain I'm yet through with you
today."

"Indeed you are. If you do not want me round with
child at our wedding, that is. Our Christmas wedding,"
she added.

"Would you really be as cruel as that? Do you know
how many weeks there are between now and Christmas?"

"A good many," she answered with a nod.

"Dear God, you are cruel." With quick fingers, he
fastened up the back of her gown.

"A shrew, I know." She shrugged. "Perhaps you can
make it your mission to wear me down, then. Despite
what you claim, I'm certain that a leopard cannot entirely change its spots now, can it?"

"Look at her, Frederick! Is she not the most beautiful
thing you've ever seen?"

Frederick lowered himself to the bed beside his wife
and bundled daughter, her face a lovely pink as she slept
peacefully, fully sated. Hair the color of ebony peeked
out from her swaddling, as fine as silk. "She is indeed,
love. And born not even eight months after our wedding. Think of the scandal we shall cause"

Eleanor reached across the babe to kiss her husband
full on the lips. "It's only to be expected from a
scoundrel such as yourself," she said. "No one will be
the slightest bit surprised, I'm sure"

"Well, if I'm a scoundrel, just what does that make
you?"

She shrugged. "A very happy woman. Did you send
word yet to Henry? And to the Henleys at Marbleton?"

"I did, indeed. Though I'm not sure Selina will take
kindly to you beating her to motherhood"

"Her babe is due any day now. How long do you think it will be before we can travel there to Essex? Or
she here to Oxfordshire?"

"Not so very long, I'd say." He glanced down at the
sleeping babe, a smile spreading across his face as he
reached down to touch one tiny hand-five perfect little
fingers curling around one of his. "She does look rather
portable, does she not? What shall we call her, our scandalously early babe?"

Eleanor glanced down at the babe, a warm, sleepy
smile upon her lips. "I like the name Katherine, after
your sister," she said. "Katherine Fiona, I think"

He nodded, tears dampening his eyes. How very like
Eleanor to suggest two names that meant so much to
him-his sister's and mother's names combined. "Katherine Fiona it is, then," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Little Katie Stoneham. I like it."

Eleanor tilted her head to one side, regarding him.
"Come to bed, Frederick. Keep us company, though I
don't suppose we'll get much sleep. She'll be hungry
again soon enough"

Hell, he'd be happy to lie awake all night, simply staring at his daughter. Yet somehow he doubted it would be
considered appropriate, given the circumstances. "Perhaps I should leave you two to your rest. The physician
said I should not disturb you-"

"The physician? Really, Frederick, whatever has
become of you? What do you want to do? Stay in here
with us, or go to your lonely bedchamber next door, the
one you've not slept in a single night before now? I vow,
there's nothing wrong with doing something, simply because you want to, now is there?"

Put that way, how could he refuse her?

Frederick stood watching as Eleanor laid a bouquet
of wildflowers beside the grave, the one marked Fiona,
Lady Worthington, then moved on to the neighboring
graves, those marking his father and brother.

Beyond the churchyard gates, Katherine and Emily
dashed around the meadow picking more flowers,
young Freddie trailing behind them. Their childish
laughter floated on the warm summer breeze, making
him smile despite the somber surroundings.

He'd hated this place for so many years-hated it
with a passion. He'd never been able to forget that
hideous day they'd laid Charles to rest, and for more
than a decade he'd refused to set foot there in the
churchyard.

Yet, now he found a surprising peace there, with his
family surrounding him. He smiled at his wife, knowing she was the one who had brought peace to his life,
happiness to his heart where there had been none. She
had made him worthy-made him realize he was
worthy, he corrected.

Across the graveyard, Eleanor wiped her hands on
her skirts, returning his smile. "Are you anxious to be
off?" she asked, hurrying to his side. "We've still plenty
of time before the first guests arrive"

"No," he said, wrapping one arm about her waist.
"I'm happy enough here. The children are still collecting flowers to lay on the graves, and Freddie will no
doubt return any moment, asking to be fed. Greedy little
devil. Until then, let them have their fun" He kissed the
top of her head, inhaling her familiar scent-soap and
lemon verbena. "Tell me, why was it so important to
leave Town in the middle of the Season? Why a house
party now?"

"I told you, it's for Henry's sake. He's in love, Frederick," she said, excitement in her voice.

"Henry, in love? Impossible. I cannot believe it."

"Nor does he, which is why I had to have the house
party"

He shook his head. "I can't say I'm following your
logic, Eleanor."

"Don't you see? I've invited the woman he loves,
though he claims not to, of course. Lucy Abbington, I
told you all about her. The Rosemoors are sponsoring
her; she's the one with the interest in veterinary arts"

"Ali, yes," he said, now remembering hearing something about the girl in question. "The horsey girl."

"She's not a horsey girl. Nor is she a horse of a girl,"
she added with a grin. "She's lovely, in fact, a perfect
match for Henry though he will not admit it. Her father
is only a physician, you see, and you know how Henry
insists on marrying well, no matter the consequence.
Anyway," she waved one hand in dismissal, "you must
not tell Henry I've said anything at all about her. Just
make sure it's known that you approve of her entirely.
Her family, her interests. Even if you do not"

"Why shouldn't I? She sounds like a right sensible
girl. How old is she, anyway?"

"Not quite one and twenty," Eleanor answered.

Frederick whistled through his teeth. "So young as
that? You're sure she's appropriate for your brother?"

"Entirely sure. Would I -resort to such desperate
measures, otherwise? He's avoiding her, and this was
the only way I could think to ... well, push him in the
right direction. Trust me, he will thank me for this one
day. Anyway, make it known to everyone in attendance
that you approve of her. Have I your word?"

He nodded. "Indeed you do"

"I'm afraid that, thanks to my mother, there will be
some in attendance who will do their best to disparage
her."

"Really? Well, it sounds as if this shall be an interesting house party, after all. Lucy Abbington is her name,
you say? The one I'm not to mention?"

"Miss Abbington is to be there?" Katherine called out
breathlessly, weaving her way through the graves, Emily
and Freddie in tow. "And Uncle Henry, too? Oh, how
lovely!"

Frederick scowled at his daughter. "What do you
know of the situation?"

"Just that Uncle Henry is in love with Miss Abbington, but he does not yet realize it," Emily added matter-
of-factly.

"He sent her flowers," Freddie offered. "Though I bet
she would have preferred a pastry."