Authors: Cecily French
“Why is it so cold?” Emily muttered, reaching for the sheet
and coming up empty-handed.
“Because I took all the covers off the bed, my dearest
Emily. Along with the blankets.”
She opened her eyes. Morning light streamed through the
curtains, scattering sunbeams around the carpet. Outside, wheels clattered on
the streets and merchants’ cries announced a new day had arrived.
And stretched out in front of the fireplace, sheets wrapped
around his lower region, lay a bare-chested Anthony, propped on one elbow, his
lips turned up in a grin of pure wickedness.
“Good morning.” He crooked a finger at her. “Care to join
me?”
“I need to clean my mouth first,” Emily said, sitting up and
swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
He pointed at the dressing screen. “A wash for your teeth,
not to mention your hairbrush, are behind the screen. But hurry.”
“Are we going to make love on the floor?”
His smile became gentle. “Another first for you?”
“Yes.” Emily headed for the screen and stepped behind it.
“Is there any place you haven’t made love?”
“There are a few,” he admitted cheerfully. “The floor isn’t
so bad provided you’re with the right person.”
Emily rinsed her mouth with a minty liquid from a glass
bottle and quickly brushed the tangles from her hair before stripping off her
nightgown and stepping around the screen. “I gather I’m the right person?”
His sharp intake of breath as his gaze swept over her sent a
wave of pleasure rippling across her skin. She shook her head and her curls
bounced around her shoulders.
“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” he finally said.
“Feeling saucy, are we?”
“Perhaps just a bit.” She pivoted and spread her arms. “Do
you like what you see, Your Grace?”
He twitched back the sheet in answer and it was her turn to
gasp. His member quivered stiff and long as if it had a life of its own. “Good
heavens,” she breathed. “Do all men’s cocks do that?”
“Not having seen many other men’s cocks—except perhaps when
swimming nude and I wasn’t really looking, mind you—I wouldn’t know. But
this
man’s cock does this when it’s waiting to make love to someone.” He patted
the floor. “Come lie down.”
She lowered herself beside him and leaned in to kiss him,
running her fingers through the silken hair covering his chest before trailing
them down past his stomach to take his cock in her hand.
“It’s so warm,” she murmured, dancing her fingers down its
length. “And so very hard. Does it hurt to feel that hard?”
“Ahhh…” He closed his eyes and threw a leg over her hip. “It’s
somewhere between agony and ecstasy. Agony because it’s aching while waiting to
bury itself in your beautiful cave, and ecstasy knowing that in the next minute
or two it’s going to do just that.”
“My cave?”
He slipped a finger inside her, drawing it from the bottom
of her opening to the top, stopping to stroke the tight bud. “That’s a word for
your womanhood. And this…” he stroked the bud again, “is your clitoris.”
Another wave of pleasure hit Emily, stronger than before.
Trembling, she clutched his arms. “Oh Lord,” she sighed. “That feels
so
good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Do you like this?” She cupped his balls while her other
hand slid up and down his cock.
A groan escaped Anthony’s throat and it was his turn to
clutch her arms. “Sweet Jesu, yes.
Yes.”
Her eyes widened. “It feels like it’s getting bigger. Can a
cock grow while making love?”
“I’d like to think so,” Anthony panted. “It would make me
very popular.”
“What about this?” She slowly traced her fingers around the
ring of flesh on his cock head. Does that feel good?”
“Witch!” Anthony’s labored breathing grew more ragged.
“Where the devil did you learn to do that?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, watching his face. “But I
think I like knowing I can do this to you.” She moved her dancing fingers to
the top of his prick. “What about this?”
“Emily, if you don’t stop right now I’m going to explode in
your hand, and there are still some things I want to do to you before we
finish.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
He rolled her onto her back then moved down until he could
spread her legs and prop himself between them. With a contented sigh, he put
his mouth against her mound and slid his tongue up and down her crevice,
stopping to suckle her clitoris.
“Anthony.
Anthony.”
Her pleasured groans nearly made
him spill his seed on the floor, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. Her hips
thrashed as he continued to taste and hold her down, until her rapid breathing
warned him she was close to completion.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me now.”
“As my lady wishes. But first there’s this.”
He crawled forward, straddling her, and took first one
breast then the other in his mouth, circling her nipples with his tongue and
gently nipping.
She smacked his bottom after one particularly playful bite.
“Beast.”
“My dearest Emily, you have no idea.” He slid his finger
back inside her, moving back and forth along the ridges to fondle her nubbin
until she seemed ready to scream.
He paused to peer down at her. Her glorious chestnut hair
was spread out on the pillow underneath. Caught between firelight and sunlight,
her face was painted with passion. Her nipples, still slick and hard from his
mouth, were crimson points against her areolas as her chest rose and fell in
expectation. Her eyes gleamed and she held out her arms, spreading her legs
wide for him. He patted the curls covering her mound one last time before lying
down to the delicious agony of slowly sliding his prick inside her, pulling
back until he was almost outside and thrusting back in.
To his delight, she gathered him in her arms and pulled his
head down to find his mouth with hers. She buried her tongue inside, anxiously
sucking and circling his as if she were a starving woman invited to a banquet.
Her eagerness ignited his skin like a spark to kindling, sending a blaze of
desire over him and speeding his thrusts. Her feet pressed against his ass,
cradling them together in a web of desire and passion.
And then she cried out his name just as ecstasy seized him,
sending them together into the abyss of completion.
* * * * *
“Do you like her?”
Emily caught the anxious note in Anthony’s voice as they
rode through Hyde Park. His expression might have been that of a schoolboy
offering a bouquet of posies to his sweetheart. She smiled and fondled the
horse’s ears. “She’s lovely, Anthony. Just lovely.”
“The fellow at Tattersall’s said her name was Petunia,” he
continued, relief replacing the worry. “Gentle, but still with enough spirit to
get in a good gallop if you want.”
“I think just riding along until Petunia and I get to know
one another will do,” Emily said. “It’s been a long time since I went riding.”
Judging from the number of people around them, half the
ton
shared their idea of spending the morning in Hyde Park. Sunshine lessened the
chill of the late April morning, but Emily was grateful for the warmth of her
borrowed riding habit.
She was also grateful for Jocelyn’s excellent taste in
clothing. The admiration in Anthony’s eyes when he saw her in the bronze habit
and matching hat had warmed her far more than the sunshine. Around them,
elegantly dressed men in pairs and other couples rode or walked by. To Emily’s
surprise, most of them raised their hats or inclined their heads as they
passed. But then, of course, Anthony was a duke.
“Hullo, Anthony,” a voice called. “I’d heard you were back
in London. Welcome home.” A blond man in an open carriage waved in greeting and
spoke to the dark-haired woman beside him. The carriage stopped and the man
raised his hat.
“Phillip, Franny,” Anthony said warmly, “good morning to you
both. Mrs. Emily Martin, allow me to present my friends Phillip Graves,
Viscount Danbury, and his wife, Franny.”
“Good morning, my lord. My lady,” Emily said. “I’m honored
to meet you.”
The Viscount smiled. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Martin.
Welcome to London.”
“You’re looking well, Franny,” Anthony said. “Motherhood
becomes you. You’re positively glowing.”
“You know about that already?”
“It’s one of the first things Brandon told me when I
returned.” Anthony laid a finger alongside his nose. “You know what a stickler
he is for keeping up with things.”
“You mean gossip,” the viscountess corrected. “He can hardly
wait to bring and share the latest tattle.”
“Some things never change,” Anthony agreed. “Is this the
first time you’ve been out?”
“I practically had to carry her from the nursery and throw
her into the carriage,” Danbury said with a laugh.
His wife joined in his merriment. “Oh listen to you,” she
scolded. “Who hasn’t been seen at his clubs since Jonathon was born because you
insist on spending almost every spare minute holding him and singing him to
sleep.”
“Franny recently presented Phillip with an heir,” Anthony
told Emily.
The viscountess gently tugged at her husband’s sleeve. “We
really should be getting back, Phillip. Jonathon might wake up and be hungry.”
“Whatever you want, my dear,” Danbury agreed.
“Would you like to meet our son, Mrs. Martin?” the
viscountess asked. “He’s only six weeks old but is growing enormously.”
“I’d like that,” Emily said eagerly. “I loved the
christenings at my late husband’s church even more than the weddings.”
“Well then, we’ll expect you in an hour,” the viscount said.
“Take us home, Patrick.”
The driver nodded and raised his hat to Anthony and Emily.
He clucked to the horse and it moved forward. A lump rose in Emily’s throat and
she blinked hard to chase away the unexpected tears rising in her eyes.
A
baby
.
A beautiful, sweet baby.
“Emily? Is something wrong?”
Forcing a smile, she looked at Anthony. “Not a thing,” she
said brightly. “Do you suppose we could have just a
little
gallop before
we go to the Danbury’s?”
* * * * *
“Would you like to hold him?”
Heart pounding, Emily held out her arms to accept the baby
from the viscountess. The tiny boy gave her a wide, violet-eyed stare as she
leaned back in the large chair near the windows of the Danbury’s Mayfair
sitting room. He smelled of soap and milk and powder and love. Danbury and
Anthony sat watching from a nearby sofa.
“You’re a very handsome young man,” she told the baby. “I
suppose you have both of your parents wrapped around every one of those tiny
little fingers of yours, don’t you?”
She lifted his hand and gently kissed each fingertip before
planting another kiss amid his blond curls. The child cooed and squirmed with
seeming delight, but Emily secured her hold. “Not so fast, sir,” she warned.
“You’re going to stay with me just a bit longer.”
Looking up, she found her hosts staring at her, grinning
like a pair of cheetahs. “You have a beautiful child,” she praised. “He has his
father’s hair and his mother’s eyes.”
“He is beautiful, isn’t he?” The viscountess sighed, taking
the chair next to Emily. “And he’s such a good baby. He hardly ever cries.”
“Except when he’s hungry,” Danbury corrected. “Then his
demands shake the entire house. How do you find London, Mrs. Martin?”
“Very well,” Emily answered as she continued to examine
Jonathon’s features.
If I would have had a son, who would he have favored?
Isaiah or me? What about a daughter?
“I think your son has Emily under his spell,” Anthony said
and the Danburys laughed.
“A word with you, Anthony?” Danbury canted his head.
“And what’s this?” his wife demanded as the men stood and
crossed the room. “There are no secrets between us.”
Danbury smiled wickedly. “And what if it’s about a surprise
I have planned for you?”
“That’s different. You may proceed with your discussion.”
The men huddled together and Emily gave her attention to her
hostess. “You’re blessed to have such a child, my lady.”
“My friends call me Franny, Mrs. Martin. I hope you’ll do
the same.”
“Thank you, Franny,” Emily said shyly. “I’m Emily.”
“Have you known Anthony a long time?”
“He spent a summer with my family in Hampshire when he and
my brother were at Cambridge together, but we hadn’t seen each other until I
came to London a few days ago.”
Franny thoughtfully regarded Emily, a knowing light shining
in her violet eyes. “How lovely you can renew your acquaintance,” she said. “Do
you have plans for the Season?”
“I’m going to help Anthony find a wife,” Emily said. “But
you mustn’t tell anyone. I hear that dukes are very popular catches for young
ladies seeking men of fortune to be their husbands. If word gets out too soon
he’s in the market for a wife, he’ll have no peace at all.”
“No doubt,” Franny agreed. She looked past Emily and her
eyes narrowed. “Phillip has that look he gets when he’s plotting something
particularly outrageous. Where are you staying at the moment?”
“In a residential hotel,” Emily fibbed. Franny didn’t need
to know she’d only gone back to Twickenham’s to change clothing. And she
certainly didn’t need to know Emily was spending a great deal of time in
Anthony’s bed. “Anthony is going to help me locate a house to rent until I can
find something more permanent,” she said.
If Franny suspected anything, she was too polite or
well-schooled to voice it. “I’m sure he’ll prove most helpful. Do let me know
if Jonathon is getting too heavy for you.”
Emily looked back at the baby. “I think he’s fallen asleep,”
she said softly.
“Then let me take him upstairs and we’ll have tea.” Franny
took her child and left the room, humming softly.