She breathed in the familiar sandalwood and soap scent of him, and suddenly Gillian wanted whatever Colin had to offer. “I do.”
Colin blinked, then quickly recovered. “I’m delighted to hear it.” Colin let go of her wrist, sat back on his heels once again, took her silk nightgown by the hem, and whisked it up around her waist and pushed it up and over her head. “I promise I won’t hurt you, Gillian.”
Gillian sighed with relief. At last she was naked against him.
Colin turned his attention back to her breasts. He dipped his head and trailed his tongue along the valley between them. He licked at the tiny beads of perspiration. The scent of her perfume teased Ids nostrils. It was warm, lemony, and all Gillian.
Colin worked his way down the valley, and his tongue seemed to ignite little bonfires wherever he touched her. He tasted the skin above her rib cage, trailed his tongue over her abdomen, circling her navel before dipping his tongue into the indention. And while Colin tasted her with his tongue, he teased her with his fingers. He skimmed his hands over the sensitive flesh covering her hipbones and outer thighs. He felt his way down her body with his hands, finally locating and tracing the deep grooves at the juncture of her thighs with the pads of his thumbs. Easing his way ever closer, Colin massaged the womanly flesh surrounding her mound, then tangled his fingers in the lush, dark curls covering it.
Gillian reacted immediately, squeezing her thighs shut, then opening them ever so slightly to allow him greater access. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Her anticipation rose to a fever pitch. She began to quiver and make little moaning sounds of pleasure as he traced the outer edge of her folds with his finger before gently plunging his finger inside. Gillian squirmed, arching her back to bring herself into closer contact with Colin. Colin gritted his teeth. The slick, warm feel and the scent of her were driving him crazy.
The swelling in his groin grew until he was rock hard and near to bursting. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her. He had to feel himself inside her, feel her surrounding him, feel them joined together the way husbands and wives were meant to be joined.
Colin withdrew his fingers and placed his hands under Gillian’s hips, lifting her slightly as he leaned forward and positioned himself to enter her in one fluid motion. “Gillian?” he offered her the choice, although he seriously doubted whether he could be the gentleman he professed to be and stop, even if she asked him to. “May I?”
“Yes,” Gillian answered, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. “Now.”
She braced herself, expecting pain as Colin surged forward and buried himself inside her. But there was none.
Colin kissed her cheek, then her eyelids, and finally, her mouth. He kissed her gently, tenderly, reverently, and held her as if she were precious and fragile.
Gillian shifted her hips experimentally and bit her bottom lip as the pleasure began to build once again. She lifted her hips again, and Colin understood. He fought to go slowly, fought to maintain control, and his body strained with the effort. Gillian tightened her hold on him. She put her arms around his neck and held on, then locked her legs around his waist once again as he began to move within her.
Gently, slowly at first, then faster.
Gillian followed Colin’s lead, matching her movements to his until they developed a rhythm uniquely their own. She kissed him as they moved together—kissed his arms, his shoulders, his neck, his chin, the corner of his mouth. And she trusted him to lead her to that place that seemed just beyond her reach; the place where she became him and he became her, the place where the two of them became one. And then, suddenly, she felt him shiver uncontrollably, heard him shout her name, and Gillian let herself go with him.
The real world seemed to slip away; there was only Colin and the almost unbearable feeling of pleasure spiraling inside her. She called out his name. In wonder. In joy. And in gratitude as he gifted her with an incredibly intense, heart-stoppingly pleasurable release.
Chapter Twenty-three
“‘Fondling,’ she saith, since I have hemm’d thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I’ll be a park, and thou shall be my deer;
Feed where thy wilt, on mountain or in dale;
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.’”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
Venus and Adonis
Gillian awoke much later to find her head cradled on Colin’s shoulder, her hair fanned out across the pillow, and one of her arms resting on his chest. She sighed, then cuddled closer to him and pressed her lips against the side of his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Colin answered in his husky burr as he tightened his arm around her. “I don’t seem to be able to resist the young lady who says please and thank you so nicely.”
“Then I’ll have to be careful not to leave you to your own devices when there are other ladies present,” Gillian told him. “For most young ladies know the value of nicely saying please and thank you.”
“Believe me, my lady,” Colin told her. “I’m happily married and the most trustworthy of men. You are the only lady I cannot resist.”
“What of all the other ladies who’ve shared your pillow?” Gillian teased.
“So, we’re back to that again, are we?” Colin chuckled. “I thought you’d forgotten.”
Gillian sighed. “You hoped I’d forgotten. But you were mistaken. For you see, my lord Grantham, I have a memory like an elephant.” She rubbed her fingers through the hair on his chest and began a slow, soothing massage. “I never forget anything.”
“If that’s the only way in which you resemble an elephant,” Colin teased. “I have no complaints.”
Gillian turned and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him. “These last few weeks have also given me the hide of an elephant.”
“One generally needs the hide of an elephant to survive the viciousness of the ton.” Colin smoothed his palm over her from shoulder to thigh and smiled. “But I find no evidence that you’ve acquired that particular trait.” He smoothed his hand back over her from thigh to shoulder. “Though you’ve done a magnificent job of hiding the wounds.”
“I was speaking metaphorically,” she said. “And you’re avoiding the question.”
“Aye,” he raised an eyebrow. “My lady has a memory and a vocabulary and...”
“And?”
“Kisses to die for.”
Gillian tried to not to smile, but she lost the battle. “I’ll bet you say that to all the ladies. Especially the ones who always do—something—whenever they share your pillow.”
“If that was meant to be a subtle reminder, you failed miserably,” Colin told her.
“It was meant to be wifely reminder that you’ve failed to answer my question.”
“That’s because a gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“You promised information in exchange for good night and good morning kisses,” Gillian said. “And you’ve received your kisses.” She leaned down to give him another one as incentive.
“And you received a great deal of information,” Colin pointed out. “Haven’t we spent a good deal of the morning improving upon your store of sexual knowledge?”
Gillian blushed. “Colin.”
“All right,” he relented. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He looked her in the eyes. “So, my lady, what is it you want to know?”
“I want to know what all the other women with whom you’ve shared a pillow always did.”
Colin worked hard to keep a straight face. “They always...”
“Yes?”
“They wore a wrapper with nothing underneath,” he told her. “And they stripped it off the moment I entered the room.”
“Is that all?” Gillian couldn’t believe he’d teased and tricked her just to tell her that.
Colin laughed. ??
?That’s quite a bit when you’re a randy young man. I never acted as lady’s maid to any of the women with whom I’d shared a pillow because I never had the opportunity. And believe me, my lady, I always appreciated and heartily approved of the gesture—until you presented me with your back and a row of tiny buttons last night.”
“I do believe you, my lord.”
“You do?”
“Who would make up an answer like that?” she retorted. “Of course I do.”
Colin hugged her. “I do,” he repeated. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.”
Gillian laughed. “I would think that in the past two months, I’d said them quite enough...”
Colin lifted a lock of Gillian’s hair and began toying with it, tracing the circle of her breast, teasing her. “But not in the context to which I refer,” he pointed out.
“No,” she agreed, “not in that context” She smiled at him. “I never realized those two words could be so powerful.”
“My lady,” he drawled. “You have no idea the power those two little words have over me.”
Gillian slid her hand down his chest and across the hard ridges of his abdomen, following the arrow of blond hair that led to the tent in the bedclothes. “I think I have some idea,” she drawled, as she reached out to take him in hand.
He closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip, and groaned with pleasure. “I have a question for you,” he ground out.
“What is that, my lord?” She teased him with the motion she’d learned that he liked best.
“Do you still suffer from insatiable curiosity?”
“Indeed I do,” she murmured.
“Are you curious to know what else you can do with that part of my person?”
“I am.”
“Then come here.” Colin pulled Gillian atop him, kissed her thoroughly, and settled her comfortably upon his throbbing erection.
* * *
She awoke to the heavenly smells of chocolate and sandalwood. Gillian stretched like a sated kitten and looked up to find Colin leaning over her. He wore his shirt, trousers, and boots, and he smelled of the sandalwood shaving soap he used. The chocolate aroma came from the cup and saucer he held out to her.
Gillian pushed herself into sitting position.
“The chocolate is hot,” he said. “Your bathwater is hot, and your lady’s maid is waiting to help you with your bath.”
“Is she?” Gillian was all wide-eyed innocence.
“You know better than that, Lady Grantham,” Colin told her, handing her the cup of chocolate. “I believe you’ve engaged me to act as your lady’s maid for the duration of this honeymoon. Now, be a good little viscountess and drink your chocolate. When you’re done, we’ll satisfy a bit more of your insatiable curiosity.”
Gillian pretended to pout. “I’ll be all clean, and you’ll get me all sweaty again.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Colin told her with a grin. “Because, my lady, the bath I’ve arranged for you in my bedchamber is big enough for two.”
Gillian was speechless. Her mouth formed a perfect O, and Colin covered it with his own for a chocolate-flavored kiss. He straightened to his full height and tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Finish your chocolate.” Gillian drained the cup, set it on its saucer, and handed them to him. “All done,” she announced.
“Have I told you how much I appreciate your insatiable sense of curiosity?” He set the cup and saucer on the bedside table, then bent once again and scooped her off the bed and into his arms.
“No,” she answered as he carried her from her bedchamber, through the dressing room, to the big copper bathtub waiting in his bedchamber. “But you will.”
She was, Colin discovered, a woman of insatiable curiosity and of many talents, but her true talent lay in her ability to make him forget everything except her. As strange as it seemed, Gillian offered him peace in a world gone mad with war. She offered him warmth and laughter and companionship and a promise of a life beyond his immediate future. Colin listened to her soft sigh as he separated her womanly folds with his nimble fingers and guided himself inside her and found refuge in her welcoming warmth.
As fanciful as it seemed, Colin believed she had beckoned him from her window, like a lost princess calling for her prince, and he had somehow heard her. He had found her and answered her call.
Perhaps he had sensed it when he’d seen her standing in the window at the Blue Bottle Inn. Or maybe it had come later when he’d slipped inside her room, held her in his arms, and slept beside her. She offered him a sense of order and serenity he hadn’t felt since childhood. And she had given him far more than he would ever be able to repay. It didn’t seem possible, but in the space of a few hours, Gillian had become his home.
Gillian laughed softly as Colin shifted his weight and sent waves of water rippling across her body and over the rim of the tub. A few hours ago, she wouldn’t have believed it possible, but Gillian found herself sharing a bathtub with a man. In a few short hours, her husband, Colin McElreath, had persuaded her to forget the rules of a lifetime. And she had a great deal of information to add to her increasing store of sexual knowledge. Fortunately, her husband appeared to be an unending source of information and pleasure. How else to explain the fact that she was learning to revel in the passion he taught her?
She picked up a sea sponge he’d placed in the tub and squeezed water over Colin’s chest. The water flattened the hair on his chest, revealing a long, jagged scar along his left side that she’d missed in her earlier explorations. The color told her the scar was recent, and its location told her that Colin was lucky to be alive.
Gillian traced the slightly raised pink contours with the pads of her fingers. “You’ve been wounded,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing,” he answered.
“You could have been killed,” she said. “How did it happen?”
Colin brushed his lips against her forehead. “I was set upon by a footpad.” He told her as much of the truth as he could. “His blade glanced off my ribs.”
“What happened to the footpad?” she asked.
“He won’t be pulling his blade on anyone else,” Colin told her. “Ever again.”
“Good,” Gillian pronounced, bracing her arms against the side of the bathtub, using it for balance and leverage, as she slid onto his lap and began to tease him. Colin placed his hands on her slim hips and anchored her firmly against him as he licked droplets of water from her breasts. He groaned his pleasure in her ear, and his warm breath made her squirm harder.
“Practicing earlier lessons, my lady?” he asked as she raised herself up as far as she could before sliding slowly down his shaft and wiggling her bottom against him.
“Practice makes perfect, my lord.”
He groaned his pleasure. “Is perfection your goal?”
“A worthy goal, is it not?” She leaned forward, splashing water over the rim of the tub as she did so.
“A most worthy goal,” he murmured. “I only hope I live long enough for you to attain it.”
Gillian widened her eyes, lifted her hips, and slid down his shaft once again. “Is your health in question, my lord?”
“It is indeed, my lady,” he told her. “Because you’re slowly killing me.” Colin looked up at her and then placed his hands on either side of her waist. Before she knew quite how he managed it, Colin lifted her off him, turned her so that she faced the opposite direction, and knelt behind her.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as he molded himself to her buttocks.
“Furthering your store of knowledge,” he murmured as he carefully slipped inside her.
Gillian’s sharp intake of breath signaled her pleasure as he began to move behind her. In and out and faster and harder until his final thrust sent water cascading over the edge of the tub and across the bedroom floor, and they both collapsed against the rim of the bathtub in an explosion of rampant desire.
“This is the first t
ime I’ve ever bathed with my lady’s maid,” Gillian quipped when Colin disengaged himself and helped her to her feet. She stood ankle deep in bathwater as she turned to face him.
“As you’ve shown such an affinity for it,” Colin retorted, “I can promise you it won’t be the last.”
“Lavery is in for a surprise,” Gillian teased.
“Not if she’s French,” Colin replied with a wink.
“Oh?” Gillian arched an eyebrow in a very good imitation of the gesture Colin used.
“I’ve spent a great deal of time in France over the years,” Colin said, reaching for a length of toweling. “The French are far more adventurous in the bedchamber than are the English.”
“Is that so?” she asked a bit more sharply than she intended.
Colin grinned as the green-eyed monster of jealousy settled on Gillian’s shoulder. “A man can learn a lot from a French lady’s maid. I added a great deal of information to my already impressive store of knowledge in some of the finest houses in Paris.” He smiled as he trailed the towel over her sensitive flesh from her belly button to the triangle of dark curls between her thighs.
Gillian shivered beneath his erotic touch. “Well, I, for one, have always felt that good solid English girls make the best lady’s maids.”
“They’re adequate,” Colin agreed. “Some are even exceptional, but most lack the true adventurous and playful nature of a French lady’s maid.” Colin caressed her with his finger as he pretended to ponder her words more closely. “And none, I think you will find, will ever be as adventurous or playful or knowledgeable as the lady’s maid you have currently engaged.” He lowered his voice until his words seemed to rumble in his chest, becoming a husky, seductive growl. “Or as trustworthy or as loyal.”