Page 21 of The New Earl’s Convenient Wife

Chapter Seven

Several hours later, Rafe sat at his desk in the library, reviewing the latest estate figures Sterling had submitted. He intended to spend as much cash as he dared to buy additional sheep and cattle from some of the neighbouring farms to rebuild their dwindled stock, herds that the former manager hadn’t bothered to replenish after the inevitable losses. The estate manager was hopeful that the lambing season, now just beginning, would produce a good supply of newborns. Their own stock, plus what Rafe hoped to procure, would allow a consistent increase in the estate’s wool production, production that had sharply declined in the previous two years.

A light knock at the door interrupting his concentration, he looked up to see Juliana in the doorway. Memories of their congenial ride—and the rapturous night preceding it—brought a smile to his face. ‘Please, come in.’

‘If I’m not interrupting…’

‘The figures will keep,’ he said, motioning her to approach. ‘How have you spent the afternoon since our return?’

‘Being a good housewife,’ she said with a grin. ‘Making sure Jane, who’s assumed most of the cooking duties under Mrs Henderson’s supervision, will produce something edible for your dinner, checking on general household supplies, which are at low levels, but will do for the present. I’ve yet to do a thorough inventory of linens, plate, china, cutlery and kitchen equipment, though I can tell you the wine cellar is mostly empty.’

‘Young Taylor’s fingerprints again,’ Rafe said with a grimace. ‘My father used to keep some prime vintages.’

‘Well, the local brewers do produce superior ale, a suitable beverage for an English nobleman,’ she pointed out as she walked over.

‘I may need a large mug tonight to recover from the shock of the wine cellar depredations.’ Noting that she’d halted a step away, he said, ‘You needn’t keep your distance.’

He beckoned her closer, his body already stirring at her nearness.

He rose, and she stepped obligingly into his embrace. After giving her a soft kiss—and having to fight the urge to deepen it, he reluctantly let her go, reclaiming his seat in the desk chair before he was tempted to lure her to the sofa by the fire.

She reached out to him, then hesitated. ‘Am I permitted to touch you…as much as I please? When no one is around to observe, of course.’

‘Absolutely. I welcome your touch.’

‘Then I can do…this?’ Leaning down, she brushed her lips against the back of his neck, just above his neckcloth.

Arousal spiraling through him, he sucked in a breath, savoring the sensation of her warm breath and moist mouth playing over his bare skin.

‘You may,’ he said when, alas, she straightened. Fired by her efforts, he said, ‘But you must understand, that inspires me to do this.’

He reached up to run his fingers over her breasts, thrilled to feel the nipples harden through the fine linen layers of her chemise and gown.

Sighing, she arched her neck up and leaned into his caressing fingers. After a few delicious moments, he made himself stop, trying to curb his increasing ardor despite the arousing effect of her soft panting breaths and the gaze from her increasingly passion-glazed eyes.

‘Then you must realise, that inspires me to do…this,’ she whispered, reaching down to stroke the hardness tenting his trouser front.

Rafe groaned as a blast of sensation hardened him further. His brain totally focused on the response produced by her massaging fingers, it took a moment before he was able to reply, ‘Then I can only do this.’

Gently he pulled her closer, moving his legs apart so he could fit her body against his throbbing cock.

She shuddered against him, giving a little gasp of pleasure. ‘Which…inspires me…to do…this,’ she whispered roughly as she dragged up her skirts with one hand while with the other, struggled to pluck open the buttons of his straining trouser flap.

He held his breath until, her efforts succeeding, his cock sprang free. He gasped again as she pressed him against her, naked skin to naked skin.

Speechless now, his mind blank of anything but the imperative to pleasure, he leaned backward in his chair and drew her closer, urging her body onto his.

Innocence transformed into enticement, she chuckled low in her throat. ‘Not yet,’ she murmured, moving away.

Before he could utter an inarticulate protest, she stepped closer again, encasing him between her thighs and moving slowly up and down to rub the head of his erection against her moist center. Then she stepped closer still, for long, exquisite moments advancing and retreating, sliding him just barely inside her passage, then out again.

Just when he thought his heart must explode from this delicious torment, she guided him within. Yanking her skirts up to her waist, he helped her onto his lap, groaning as she wrapped her legs around him and slid him to full depth inside her. Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her head on his chest and went completely still.

Every particle of him screamed for movement, but she put a finger to his lips. ‘Just…feel,’ she whispered.

Ah, yes, he could feel—the hot, wet tightness of her body enclosing him, the throbbing urgency of his cock pulsing within her, the galloping beat of his heart, hers, the rising urgency of approaching climax.

Then suddenly, as if she, too, could no longer hold herself back, she began moving. He met her movements, thrusting wildly, desperately hanging on to a sliver of control so she might reach her peak with him. When at last she cried out, her nails scratching into his coated back, he emptied himself in a surge of sensation so intense it robbed him of breath and sight.