The Caversham Chronicles ~ the Beginning

Chapter Seven-2

And Aunt Katherine! Did she really withhold her letters to her father’s family? What about her uncles’ investigator? Amelia never knew a man had come seeking information on her father’s passing or her own condition, for her aunt had hidden that information from her. Why? She could not fathom any reason why a person would do such a thing. Not one. It amounted to outright cruelty!

Thinking back on her time with her aunt, it all made sense to Amelia now. Aunt Katherine had been making plans for her re-emergence into society before her mourning was done. Everything was calculated with one ultimate outcome in mind: marrying the Duke of Caversham. She could only assume that was why her aunt had wanted Amelia as a companion—to use her connection with her uncle, Cav’s friend, to garner an introduction. Amelia had already witnessed her aunt’s brazen invasion of a party to which neither of them were invited, so she wouldn’t put it past her relative to have done this as well.

“I had not thought to ever remarry,” he said, breaking the silence of their ride.

“And I thought I was too old to wed, so wasn’t looking.” She stopped him with the lift of a finger when he tried to interrupt. “It’s true. I have no single friends left back at home. I wasn’t looking and I’ve obviously landed one of the most elusive men in all of England.”

In the dim light of their enclosed carriage, Amelia swore Cav blushed.

“Not elusive,” he whispered. “Just busy.”

“Not according to my grandmother. She wanted to make certain I knew what an enormous catch you are.” They both grew quiet again. Amelia thought about her grandmother’s words about how their family is always dutiful and honorable, in service to both the country and their church. The woman then went on to remind Amelia of her duty to her husband and her country to give Cav more children.

“I will not lie to you. I am still reeling from the shock of the entire night,” she told Cav honestly.

His gray eyes penetrated her heart, leaving her feeling vulnerable in ways she’d never felt before—not when her brother disappeared, nor when her father died. And it was a different fear.

“If I had told you about them, would you have come with me?”

Amelia thought about it a moment and shook her head. “Remember, there was no overture from them to make me feel as though any meeting with me would have been receptive on their part. But…,” Amelia looked away and swallowed hard. “What I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with meeting my father’s family.”

“You must have a great deal to process emotionally. I won’t come in if you’d rather have the time alone to mull over all you’ve discovered.”

How did she tell him? How did she say that everything she learned about him tonight only added a sense of… urgency to her desire for him?

“You don’t understand. I want you to stay with me tonight,” Amelia said. “Please don’t leave me alone again. For the past two nights, I have been essentially alone in an unfamiliar home because you worry about propriety.” He was silent. Likely warring with himself over the possibility of gossip. Well hang the gossip! She wanted to be with the man she loved. “I don’t want to be alone. I am a woman grown. I know my own mind and I don’t wish to be apart from you. Ever again.” She inhaled a fortifying breath and asked him something that had bothered her from the time she’d agreed to marry him two days earlier. “And I want to call you by your name, not your title. I love the man you are, not the title you inherited, or your position in Parliament.”

Amelia could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes. He was an honorable man, a true gentleman, and for him to deviate from societal mores went against his morals. And while she loved that about him, she also wanted to bring some spontaneity and vibrancy into his life. He’d admitted to living a fairly regimented life, where his days were scheduled in fifteen minute blocks of time from the moment he awoke in the morning. And while he told her this, he sounded saddened by the mundane routine his life had become, as though he wanted to change that.

The gold-crested Caversham carriage crept through traffic and Cav remained silent. She began to wonder if he’d ever done anything unconventional in his life. Was every day really scheduled to the quarter-hour? She’d lived most of her life from day to day, relishing the uniqueness of each one and living it moment by moment. And here was this man—much like her father—who needed change and spontaneity in his life as much as she needed stability and protection.

“We have already shared a bed, Your Grace.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile. “And a coach from Somerset. You and I have had more physical intimacy than most newly married couples. Don’t deny us the pleasure of each other’s company and s****l satisfaction merely because we are in town.”

“You don’t know how vicious people can be. They’ll talk. Perhaps even shun you if they knew.”

Amelia dropped the curtains on the doors for privacy, then crossed the carriage. Lifting her skirts, she straddled the man who was soon to be her husband, and hopefully the father of her children. She met his dark silver gaze and drank in his appearance—the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the furrow between his brows. She wanted to kiss each one but realized she’d never finished what she wanted to say.

“Let them talk. It will not affect me. Talk never has. I do not look to others for approval. I make my own decisions. Nor do I need those same others to tell me who I should or should not love.”

Cav crushed her to him, and Amelia kissed him, offering herself up to him for his pleasure, because only in his pleasure did she find her own. She opened for him and when his tongue invaded her mouth she moaned. She tasted him and teased him with her tongue as well, then nipped his lower lip in the heat of the moment. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against her naked thighs and she remembered her bare state beneath her skirts.

Amelia wanted this man. Needed him. He was her friend and her lover. Yes, he was older than her own father, but she didn’t notice it when they were together. All she knew was that with him, she felt freer than she’d ever felt before and wanted to share parts of her life and her body she’d never shared with another man. He made her smile when he shared his day with her at dinner these past nights, and she couldn’t envision a future without him.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Cav’s home, and Amelia pleaded with him to come upstairs with her. “Please come inside with me and let us begin living the life we have now. I don’t wish to wait any longer.”

“Are you certain?” He sounded hopeful, as though he really wanted this as well.

She nodded once. “I am very certain, Marcus. We are going to be married in less than one month. I doubt anyone would care.”

He was still unsure, she could tell. “Your grandmother?”

“I told her I was comfortable where I was and would not move for what would amount to a few days before we left for Haldenwood.”

The door to the carriage opened. Cav stepped out first and held a hand out for Amelia. She grasped it and refused to let go while they walked up the steps. They handed their cloaks to the footman, Amelia reached for his hand once more, and together they went up to the duchess’s rooms. Her rooms, though she was not yet his wife.

“Marcus.” Her voice cracked when they were alone in the room. She looked up into his gray eyes and told him what was in her heart. “I don’t know how it happened that I have come to love you, but I do. I love everything about you. And while you might feel awkward about this because we are not yet married or because you are older, I don’t. I don’t because I have fallen so very deeply in love.”

He kissed the top of her head, then raised her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her gloved hands as well. At the soft knock on the door connecting the two rooms, Cav opened his mouth to call out but he was again stopped by one of her slender fingertips to his lips. Amelia held his molten metallic gaze as she called out, “I can undress the man I love, Foster. Go to bed.”

Amelia tossed her gloves on the floor behind her while Cav began working at the many pins holding her hair up.

She giggled as she tugged on his coat sleeves and after removing the snug-fitting thing from his body, she dropped it to the floor and kicked it aside. She then held his gaze as she worked free each button on his waistcoat and began to pull that thing from his taut frame. It too got tossed aside to land somewhere along with her gloves and his coat. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I can get you ready for bed a great deal faster than your valet.”

Her hair cascaded down her back at the same time as she splayed her fingers across the heated flesh of his hard-muscled abdomen. He was so firm and muscled, she wondered what he did for exercise. She tugged the shirt from his trousers and as his skin was bared to her she began to kiss it. He sucked in his breath as her bare hands roved upward, drawing his shirt over his head and throwing it behind her. His skin was so hot and damp, its light dusting of masculine hair lay flat against his flesh.

She pressed her face into his chest and inhaled the scent of him, a clean masculine spice and sandalwood scent she found wildly arousing. She pressed her lips to his flesh and kissed her way up the curve of his neck to his jaw. The light growth of stubble was rough to her delicate face.

While she kissed him, his fingers made progress working the laces down her spine and when she finally felt his hands on her bare back, a tremor ricocheted throughout her entire body, and warm juices drenched her s*x, telling her she was more than ready for him.

This man grounded her, made her feel like a woman desired. She burned for him. Yearned to have him fill her and give her the satisfaction they both desired.

Soon her dress, corset and chemise all slid down her body, pooling at her feet. His heated gaze raked up and down her body, naked but for her stockings that ended above her knees. “All night, I was imagining what you looked like without your drawers under those petticoats.”

Amelia smiled and lifted a foot to the bench next to the bed. “Now you know.” When she began to untie her stocking he stopped her with a large, masculine hand on her knee. The heat of his palm seared her flesh, branding her soul as his.

“Let me,” he growled as he knelt before her. Taking the stocking, he rolled it down, while he kissed the sensitive flesh of her thigh, his tongue moving higher as he removed the sheer cream-colored silk from her feet.

Amelia nearly collapsed onto him as his fingers found and parted the curls at her apex. His tongue found her nub and she gave a silent scream of pleasure when he began to lick her slit.

Her arms over her head, she clung to the bedclothes hanging behind her, as she lost herself in the sweet torture he performed on her. She cried out with pleasure, begging him to finish her off. She was so near to a climax that she was in pain for completion. Then he stopped.

Confused, she looked down and saw him rising. “Please, Marcus. Please.”

“Soon, love.” He kissed her then backed away from her. Her body felt the chill of his absence as she dropped her arms and tried to cover herself.

“No. I want to see you.” She dropped her hands, and waited for his next command. He began to unbutton his trousers and his manhood instantly sprung free of it and his drawers. Taking it in his hand he began to stroke himself. “Get on the bed and spread your legs,”