Her Scottish Groom (10 page)

A twinge of pain struck his chest. He looked down to see her hand fisted in his curls. Smiling a little, he disengaged it as tenderly as a mother would an infant’s.

She looked up at him with hazy eyes. “Are you angry with me?” He shook his head, disbelieving the question, as she swallowed. “I don’t think ladies are supposed to behave that way.”

“I don’t care how ladies are supposed to behave. You were wonderful.”

Her radiant smile stole his breath away.

“Thank you.” She shyly explored his torso with her fingertips, and he adjusted himself to give her better access. When she reached his waistband, however, she came to an abrupt halt, looking up at him nervously. “I don’t know what to do.”

He rose from the berth. Keeping his gaze fixed on her, he slowly, deliberately untied the cord of his pyjamas. Her eyes widened as he lowered them, fully exposing his aching erection to her.

“Kieran, please—I can’t possibly accommodate
all that.” Her blue eyes pleaded with him in the lamplight, but the sight of her near-naked body on the berth only made him harder, if that was possible.

He returned to the berth, grasping at the nightgown still crumpled around her hips. She pushed at his wrists, but failed to stop him from sliding the material down and off her body. The faint scent of her juices reached his nostrils, and he took a deep breath, fighting for self-control.

“Do you trust me?” He could barely choke the words out as he fingered the moisture from her climax along her secret cleft, his desire so acute he feared he would go mad if she said no.

Instead she gave him a small, frightened nod that nearly melted his heart.

“Stay with me, sweet girl.” He whispered the words against her ear as he settled over her, parting her thighs to receive him fully. He rubbed his length against her engorged nub until she arched against him, arms locked around his waist.

God, her innocent response to his lovemaking gave him pleasure he had never imagined possible. He could not deny his own need any longer. Reaching between them, he guided himself into her, grimacing with the effort it took not to thrust himself ruthlessly into the tight channel.

Her face contorted. “Kieran, it burns. I don’t think I like this part at all.” She struggled in his arms, panicking.

He gentled her as best he could. “It will this first time, sweetheart. Shhh, it will hurt less if you relax, I promise. There, now, breathe slowly. Good girl, that’s right.”

She tried to comply. He felt her relax marginally
and inched in farther, only to feel her tense again. He sighed and lifted his head to look into her eyes.

“I’m afraid the best thing to do is get this bit over with quickly.”

Her voice caught. “Anything, please.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of her pain-filled eyes. “It’s just this once, darling, I swear it.”

Then, lifting himself slightly on his elbows, he thrust home, the glorious experience of sheathing himself in her hot moist body mitigated by her cry of agony.

He held her close, whispering to her how brave she was, how good she felt around him, as he waited for her to adjust to him. Kissing each firmly closed eye, he moved experimentally. When she did not cry out again, he asked her if it still hurt.

“The less you move, the less it hurts.” She gazed up at him anxiously. “Do you think you could refrain from making any large movements?”

“Yes, I can.” Her body clasped him so tightly, he knew it would not be long before he climaxed. Grasping her hips, he made small circular thrusts, rubbing against her mound. She rewarded him by flooding with moisture, allowing him to move more freely.

Within seconds, his pent-up climax burst. He ground against her over and over, burying his face in her shoulder as he exploded inside her.

   Much later, after his heart had returned to normal and he had arisen long enough to blow out the lamp, he lay on his back and stared up at the top of the berth. Diantha slept soundly, curled up against his
side. He did not know what to make of the intensity of their lovemaking. He did know he would not be seeking out a mistress for the time being.

He frowned in the dark. He had assumed that after he consummated his marriage, he would conduct his life much as he always had, with the exception of having a hostess established in his house who would also produce the next generation of Rossburns. Had he just considered remaining faithful to his merchant-class wife?

No. No matter how she enticed him in bed, the fact remained that she lacked the intelligence and sophistication that he sought in his mistresses. He would enjoy the pleasure she offered until it palled. It always did. He had never so much as spent the night through with a woman and he was not about to start now.

Diantha nestled a little closer to him. Pulling the counterpane up higher on her chilled shoulder, he decided to stay a while longer.

“Milady?”

Diantha started awake at the sound of Florette’s voice through the door. Groggily she wondered why the maid did not enter with her morning tea tray as usual. Then images of the previous night flooded her mind.

“Oh no!” Recalling her unclothed state, she flung the sheets aside, hunting for the flimsy nightdress. She raised her voice. “I’ll open the door directly.”

Locating the lacy garment at the foot of the berth, she got to her feet and pulled it over her head. Eschewing the nearly transparent wrapper that matched it, she grabbed a silk one instead, hastily shoving her arms into the sleeves.

Just as she grasped the door handle, she looked back at the bed where Kieran had introduced her to so many sensual delights the night before. Her eyes widened in horror at the splotch of blood clearly visible on the bottom sheet.

“Coming!” Darting to the bed, she flipped the
bedclothes up over the telltale sign of last night’s activities. Anxiously looking over her shoulder, she scurried back to the door and swung it open, hoping she did not appear as flushed as she felt.

“That smells heavenly. Thank you, Florette.”

Diantha thought she noticed a quiver of amusement at the corner of the Frenchwoman’s lips, but was too flustered to pay close attention. Where was Kieran? Did gentlemen normally leave after conjugal relations?

“How is your ladyship feeling this morning?” Setting down the tray on a small stand with raised sides, the maid placed a lump of sugar in a porcelain teacup with a pair of tongs. After pouring the steaming liquid into it from a matching pot, she placed a thin slice of lemon into the cup and brought it, balanced on its saucer, to Diantha as she sat on the bed.

“Fine, of course. What else should I be?” Diantha inhaled, relishing the citrus scent. After a sip of the sweetened liquid, she smiled her thanks to Florette.

The middle-aged servant bustled between her room and the dressing room, setting out that day’s dress and accessories.

Diantha finished her tea and stood up to return the empty cup to the tray.

“I’m ready to dress now.” She turned toward the dressing room and froze.

Florette had pulled the sheets off the bed in order to replace them with clean ones. The bloodied muslin lay heaped on the floor.

Diantha stared at it while her suddenly numb mind tried to think of something to say.

Shaking out fresh sheets over the mattress, the maid smiled kindly over her shoulder. “I asked the cook to heat some water for a warm bath this morning, if you would care for one.”

The nightgown, the doubled berth, and knocking before entering this morning
. Diantha wanted to curl up into a humiliated ball on the floor. “How did you know?”

“An educated guess,
ma mie
. His lordship’s ‘change of plans’ were quite obvious. And he appears to be
un homme d’action
, not at all the kind to wait once he makes up his mind.” She peered at her closely. “Did he treat you well?”

Apparently taking Diantha’s speechlessness as a “yes,” the servant put the finishing touches on the berth and ordered her into the dressing room.

“I will wash these myself, very discretely, and inform his lordship that you will enjoy a late breakfast. Meanwhile, the stewards will bring the hip bath and hot water.” She let herself out.

Diantha, somewhat reassured by the woman’s matter-of-fact manner, slipped into the dressing room so that no one would see her
en déshabillé
. A bath did sound wonderful. Last night’s pain had subsided even before sleep overtook her. Only a few twinges remained and a good soak in warm water would eliminate those.

She supposed she should feel guilty for not replacing her nightgown after they finished last night. But Kieran’s attentions had left her too sated to move, and his solid body felt so good to curl up next to. She could not recall the last time she had slept so well.

* * *

She discovered that she had quite a hearty appetite that morning. Settling herself at the table in their suite, she smiled at the steward and unfolded her napkin as he brought her a plate.

When the door to Kieran’s room opened, she looked up hopefully. Her heart sank a little at the entrance of his valet, but she greeted the man courteously.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady!” The servant stopped short and bowed, his Scottish accent deepened by surprise. “I merely wished to use the passage from this room. I will go around from Lord Rossburn’s instead.”

She gestured to the passage door. “Please, proceed. Normally the room is empty at this time of day; you had no way of knowing otherwise.”

She addressed him again, fascinated by his speech. Kieran’s voice, trained by years at English boarding schools, usually held only a trace of a burr. “How does the voyage suit you so far, Davison?”

“Verra well, your ladyship.” His polite expression changed and he gave her a genuine smile. “And I hope your ladyship is feeling well this morning?”

She shot him a sharp look, but his face betrayed nothing more than benign civility.

“I am very well myself, thank you.” She nodded her dismissal and turned to her breakfast.

The steward had cleared the table when Kieran finally made his appearance. Judging from his windblown hair and overcoat, he came from a walk on the deck. Greeting her formally, he removed his coat and gloves, while the steward piled the tableware on
a large tray and left. She stood up, planning to visit the saloon.

“You weren’t at breakfast.” To her shock and delight, he kissed her full on the lips. Softly, he added, “How are you feeling this morning?”

She pulled back in annoyance. “Why is everyone asking me that? I am fine.”

“Truly?” He scanned her face as if trying to see into her mind. “When Florette informed me you would eat later, I feared that I had offended you last night.” He took her hand. “Or worse.”

“Offended me? How on earth can you ask that?” Without thinking, she linked her fingers with his.

He cleared his throat. “I understand that some ladies don’t care for lovemaking.”

She stared at him. “Really? How odd.”

She had no idea why this should make him burst out laughing, and said so in no uncertain terms.

“I believe they object to some of the more improper aspects of it.” A twinkle lit his eyes.

She considered his words. “I suspect their husbands are doing it wrong.”

“Oh, you’ve become an expert after one night?” His grin robbed the words of any ill intent.

“You seemed to think I did well enough!” He bowed, acknowledging the hit. She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Even the most carefully chaperoned girls hear conversations they should not. I’ve overheard more than one of my mother’s friends whisper about their husbands causing discomfort.”

“That should never happen again.” His emphatic words startled her. As though to lighten the conversation, he changed the subject.

“I came down to ascertain your well-being first, and then to ask if I might escort you around the deck.”

Relief flooded through her that he still wanted to spend time in her company. “That sounds much more pleasant than reading. Wait here, I shall get my hat and mantelet.”

She hastened to put on her outdoor clothes and return. Kieran crooked his arm for her. “I’m delighted to take priority over the saloon.”

She chuckled. “Only because I have no access to a library, mind you.”

“We shall visit a bookstore when we stop in London. What kind of reading do you enjoy?” With that, they set off down the corridor.

   By mutual consent, Kieran did not come to her bed that night, but their concord lasted only until the following afternoon.

Diantha stormed into her cabin, all but slamming the door behind her.

Florette, seated near the porthole to mend a flounce, looked up in surprise, then rose to help Diantha out of her mantelet.

“Milady, what has happened to disturb you? The walk with Mrs. Haddon did not go well?”

Diantha furiously ripped her hat from her head, partially ruining the fashionable curls the maid had pinned up earlier that day. “The promenade went well enough. Until I found my husband.”

“Oh?” Florette retrieved the elegant creation from its landing place on the floor.

Diantha freed herself from her wrap. “Mrs. Had
donand I came across him as he admired a pendant of Senhora Henriques.”

“That does not sound particularly terrible.” The maid smoothed the hat’s ribbons prior to putting it away.

“He was tracing the filigree work with his finger.” She paced the room, skirts rustling. “While she was wearing it!”

“Ah!” The older woman’s face cleared as enlightenment dawned. “Tsk, on a small boat like this, milord should have known he would get caught.”

Diantha took another turn around the room, fuming. “Smiling up at him and batting her eyelashes like something out of a penny dreadful—”

Florette made a sympathetic noise. “I am so sorry, milady. How humiliating for you.”

“—at my husband, which he would do well to remember.” The lacy nightgown of two nights before caught her attention as it lay on top of a pile of neatly folded clothes. “You can put that thing away. If he thinks he’s coming back to my bed anytime soon, he had better think again.”