A storm, consuming him, capturing him. A tempest.Histempest.
He could not remain still any longer. His hips jerked off the bed as he met her thrusts. Deeper. Higher. He turned his attention to her other nipple, biting it, then sucking hard.
She convulsed around him as she rode her crisis.
“That’s it. Spend all over my cock.”
She cried out, tightening, and he surged deep, turning his attention to the need for his own release. His head fell back to the pillow, and he anchored her waist, thrusting into her as he guided her through the first wave of her spend. He was close. So close. Her lips were parted, her fiery curls hanging around her, pink nipples pointed and hard. Breasts bouncing as she regained her momentum.
“I’m going to spend.”
“Yes.” She clenched on him, milking his cock. “I want it. I want you. Fill me up.”
That was all it took. Her husky demand made him erupt like a goddamn cannon. He came hard, fire licking up his spine, as he emptied himself into her. His cock pulsed as she drew the last drop from him. His chest was tight, his vision sparkling with silver spangles. The breath he had not realized he had been holding fled him.
That was when the rush of love he had been doing his damnedest to ignore hit him.
Tempest, indeed. What the hell was he going to do now?
Chapter 15
Our daughter was born yesterday. I would have penned this journal entry then, but in truth, my lying in was exhausting. It was more than I had anticipated in every way. More painful, more arduous, and more wondrous. At the end of it all, the most beautiful baby girl I ever beheld was placed in my arms. She has her father’s chin and dark hair. Mama is firmly decided that I must allow her to be placed with another family, but my daughter already owns my heart. She is the last piece of him I have left. I named her Emily.
~from the journal of Lady Julianna Somerset, 1884
Julianna’s hand shook as she lifted her teacup to her lips the following afternoon. As prearranged the day before, Tilly, Duchess of Longleigh, was seated opposite her for one of the first official social calls Julianna had received since marrying Shelbourne.
“Is something amiss?” Tilly asked. “You look concerned, my dear.”
She was not concerned. Was she?
Yes, yes she was.
Because last night, following the apology she had made to Shelbourne—Sidney, whispered a voice inside her—she had dismantled every brick of caution in the wall she had been attempting to build around her heart. She had tossed her plans into the wind and allowed them to scatter. She had gone to bed with her husband, just as she had been determined she wouldnotdo. The pleasure had been intense. Unlike anything she had experienced with him yet. And she had been wicked. Desperately so. Telling him things she never should have spoken aloud…
She cleared her throat, chasing the thoughts, and feigned a smile. “I am perfectly well. Forgive me. It is just that I do have a great deal weighing on my mind. Settling here at Cagney House with Emily has been somewhat more involved than I had supposed it would be.”
And how.
By involved, she meant that she was falling back in love with her husband, a man who had never loved her. Oh, who was she fooling? Had she ever stopped loving him?
No, said the same traitorous voice within.
Yes, she countered. He did not deserve her love. Never had. And it had taken her the entirety of two years to move past the way she had felt about him, only to find herself here, firmly mired in all her feelings once more. What had she been thinking, marrying him?
Moreover, what was she thinking now, part of her willing to abandon her decision to return to America at the first opportunity?
Tilly smiled back, unaware of Julianna’s inner tumult. “I understand it must be challenging. Your daughter is a year old, is she not?”
“Yes.” Her smile deepened, becoming genuine as she thought of Emily. “She is. I will own, after living in New York City for so long, returning to London has required some adjustment for both of us.”
“As has remarrying Lord Shelbourne, I would imagine,” Tilly observed. “Do tell me if I am being too frank. Rob—a friend of mine was fond of saying I am like a terrier with her beloved bone when I am curious. I sink my teeth into a subject and refuse to relent.”
Julianna noticed Tilly’s slip, the name she had almost spoken before catching herself, and she could not help but to be curious. Whose name had she nearly said? And why had she stopped herself? There was a story there, simmering beneath the surface. But Julianna could not judge; she had secrets of her own.
She longed to confess the truth of her relationship with Shelbourne to Tilly now—to unburden herself and reveal they had never originally been married. That the story they had fed everyone around them was indeed just that, a fiction. However, there was too much at stake, and Julianna trusted her friend, but she had to put Emily first. The secret would have to belong to a small, trusted circle for now.
She frowned, wondering if Shelbourne had told his parents the truth. He had not mentioned it, and the past few weeks had been such a maelstrom that she had not considered it until now. The marquess and marchioness were not the most forgiving or liberal members of society. That much was certain. Lord Northampton had been attempting to strong-arm Hellie into marrying one of his boorish political cronies who opposed women gaining the Parliamentary franchise.
