Claiming Her Innocence (8 page)

Because Penelope had been given over to the convent school so early, her mother had always been a distant figure, and her father more of an affable stranger than a parent. William Lennox, his declining health evident, seemed genuinely pleased by his daughter’s transformation from a shy, insecure introvert to confident, poised socialite in so short a time. But his wife’s disapproval was clearly evidenced in her pinched face.

“My dear. I hardly recognized you,” Lady Lennox said, leaning in to give her daughter a perfunctory peck on the cheek. “I would have thought you’d be slower to settle in after years of spiritual training.”

“Leave her be.” William Lennox glared at his wife. “Can you not see that she’s happy?”

“Happy or corrupted?” Lady Lennox gripped her rosary as she took her daughter’s hands. “Sister Agnes has been writing me. They prayed for a miracle to bring you back.”

“Tell them to save their prayers, mother. I don’t want to go back.”

“How can you be so ungrateful?” Tears glistened in the older woman’s eyes. “They kept you safe there!”

“No, mother,” Penelope said gently. “They kept me ignorant. I was happy because I didn’t know anything else. Now I’ve discovered love and beauty, and while I will never forget the good sisters, my place is here. “

The future Lady Westcott would have been happier to see her mother more accepting of her choice, but Penelope would not allow her mother to dampen the happiest day of her life. She was through sacrificing her happiness for the sake of others now. Alton had taught her that taking her joy was not a selfish thing, and she’d come to believe that a God who made her capable of love and sex would want her to experience those things.

As Betsy helped dress her for the wedding, Penelope confided her disappointment in Lady Lennox’s greeting.

“I feel sad for her in a way,” Penelope said. “I believe her heart was truly with the church.”

“It is sad when one is denied their passion,” Betsy said, “whatever that passion is. You were fortunate to have been spared a life of frustration. Just think. If you’d stayed in the convent you’d never have known true happiness.”

Penelope turned to her and smiled. “You’re so right. I’d have not had Alton, and I’d have not met you. Oh, Betsy, you’ve become more than a maid to me in this short time,” she said. “I think you were meant to be here as was I.” She grew quiet. “I have a question, though. That night I found you in the alcove… was I meant to find you?”

Betsy dropped her eyes and Penelope had her answer.

“I thought so,” she said.

“Are you angry, m’lady?” she asked.

“No.” Penelope shook her head. “I thought Lord Westcott had likely arranged it. I had no mother to teach me that my body is a tool of pleasure and not of shame. Seeing another woman so open with her own flesh—you’ve helped me enormously, even if it was a less than conventional education.”

“Are you ready for tonight?” Betsy stepped back. “No husband could ask for a more beautiful bride.” She turned Penelope toward the mirror as she spoke.

The woman reflected back at her was the perfect combination of allure and innocence. The long white gown was of an elegant design, but simple. The skirt was full, but shot through with silver threads. The bodice was edged in delicate lace.

“I wish you could be there,” Penelope said.

“It’s not for a maid to be at a lady’s wedding,” Betsy said. “I’ll be here to help you change for your special night.”

“Well, even if you can’t be at my wedding,” Penelope said, “one day I will be sure to be at yours.”

“You’ll have a long wait.” Betsy offered a sad smile. “Girls like me aren’t the kind men propose to, m’lady. We’re just the ones they lay with until something better comes along.”

“So there’s no one you fancy?” Lady Penelope suddenly felt sad for her friend, and sadder still at the answer.

“Just one. Tom, the valet… the one you saw with me that day. I’ve long loved him in secret. But at some point he’ll find a proper girl to marry and I’ll just have to love him from afar. I love men, but not married ones.”

Penelope took the maid’s hands in hers. “Don’t give up on yourself, Betsy,” she said. “Lord Westcott certainly seems to prize passion in a woman. Any man would be lucky to have you.” She paused. “Oh, dear, happy endings should be for everyone.”

“That’s a lovely thought,” the maid said. “But today, we’re going to focus on yours. Now let’s get you into this wrap. It’s chill out.”

The two women hugged, and Betsy helped Penelope into her furs.

It was Lord Lennox who arrived at his daughter’s door to escort her from the house. Christmas Eve had dawned gray and cold, but the slate sky made the green of the trees and the white of the snow all the more brilliant by contrast. The runners of the sleigh glided across the packed snow as the harness bells on the horse jingled merrily. Penelope’s nose and cheeks stung with cold, but the rest of her was flushed with the warmth of happy expectation. It was her wedding day; after a lifetime of not knowing love, she was not only marrying, but marrying a man she had grown to love.

The windows of the Westcott estate’s stone chapel seemed to beckon them with a golden light. The edges of the pews were festooned with bay greenery and red bows. Outside, dusk was fast approaching, and the soft glow of candles illuminated the altar where Alton Westcott waited for his bride.

The wedding would be small and intimate as befitted a private gentleman whose one large social event of the year had already taken place.

“The smaller the wedding, the sooner I can have you back home in my bed,” he’d told her, and Penelope had blushed happily at the memory of that conversation. She was ready for her wedding night, and as she stood exchanging vows with her handsome lord, she marveled at how he’d opened not just her eyes, but her heart.

The look of pride on his face as she walked up the aisle just affirmed that she was not just on the path to happiness but one that had perhaps been meant for her. When Penelope placed her small hand in her Lord Westcott’s large one, she was again reminded of his strength, his protection. He was all to her now, and it was with the conviction born of certainty that she turned her eyes on the priest as he prepared to have the couple recite their vows.

“I do,” were words spoken with conviction from both, and it was with pride that she faced the small gathering as Lady Penelope Westcott.

Chapter Nine: Lady Westcott’s Gift

All brides were nervous. Penelope knew this as she sat in her diaphanous nightgown waiting for her husband to fetch her. Would her innocence disappoint him? She sought to remind herself of Betsy’s advice.

“If he’d wanted those women, he’d have married one,” the maid had said. “But he wanted you, m’lady.”

When the door opened, she startled.

“Are you well?” he asked, when he saw her sitting by the fire.

“I am,” she said. “I was just waiting.”

“The wait is over,” he said, and swept her up into his arms.

“Whatever are you doing?” she asked.

“Carrying you to my room before you change your mind,” he said. Outside the door, he nearly ran into Betsy. “Whatever are you doing here, girl? It’s Christmas Eve and your lady is in good hands. Go home, Betsy. Enjoy the holiday. I’ll tend to your lady for the next few days.”

Betsy gave a knowing grin followed by a giggle, and Penelope realized she’d probably never seen the master of the house in just his nightshirt. “Thank you. And Merry Christmas, Lord and Lady Westcott.”

Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck as he bore her down the hall. She’d never been in Alton’s bedchamber. It was masculine, like its inhabitant. The heavy carved mahogany bed was hung with velvet drapes. A blaze crackled in the fireplace.

At long last, they were alone as a married couple. The only thing that had kept him from taking her—his promise—had been fulfilled. They were married, and she came to her wedding night as a virgin. Now he would make her a woman.

“You’re the loveliest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “And the most exciting.”

She flushed, for that excitement was evident. The mighty cock she’d touched two nights earlier was standing straight out, tenting the front of her husband’s nightshirt.

He stepped toward her and undid the ties on the shoulders of her gown, and then stood back as it slid off her body in a hiss of silk.

Lifting her again, Alton deposited Penelope on the bed. She lay back, looking at him as her hair fanned around her, and watched from beneath hooded lids as he pulled his nightshirt off. He was beautiful, like a sculpted statue, she thought. His muscles reminded her of his strength, and her own helplessness before it. The thought should have scared her, but instead it sent a surge of wetness from between the lips of her throbbing pussy. Penelope squirmed on the bed.

Alton knelt over her. He ran the tip of one finger from her jawline down to her breast, circling her nipple, before lowering his head to take the peak in his mouth. Penelope arched her back; the sensation of his mouth drawing on her breast sent a corresponding jolt of pleasure to a pussy aching to be filled.

His hands were roaming her curves, cupping her bottom. He’d moved between her legs; his cock was hard where it pressed against her thigh. She strained against him, spreading her legs, not caring that she was playing the wanton.

“Please,” she said.

“Please what?” Alton slid up her body and was face to face with her.

“I want… I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I want you to put your cock inside my pussy,” she said.

“Oh, what a naughty girl,” he said. “And I will. But first I have a gift for you.”

Leaning over, he picked up a small box from the bedside table.

“A gift, now?” She sat up with him, feeling confused and a bit frustrated. Arousal coated her thighs and her nipples were firm, tingling peaks. Still, she wanted to please him, so she tore away the wrapper and opened the box.

“What is it?” she asked, examining the object in her hand. It was a smooth tapered dowel with a circular disc at the end.

“It’s a trainer,” he said. “Tonight I’ll take your first virginity. Over the next few weeks, you’ll get one of these, each slightly larger, to prepare you for the night I take your second virginity.”

“You mean my bottom?”

“You are a quick study,” he said. “But first things first.”

Alton took the trainer from her and put it back on the table. Then he lay down, lifted Penelope, and positioned her to sit on his chest.

“Raise up on your knees,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, uncertainty in her voice.

“Because your husband commands it.”

When she obeyed, he slid down until his face was between her legs.

He did not have to tell her to grasp the headboard. The feel of his tongue sliding through the slick folds of her open pussy caused her to go weak with pleasure. He was more insistent now than he’d been the first night he’d tasted her. Penelope felt his hands clutch her bottom cheeks as he suckled her clit and inserted his tongue into her virgin passage. She swayed in his grasp, crying out as she flooded his face with her juices. Starbursts of light exploded from behind her eyes; her cries filled the room. Her pussy was still contracting when he lay her down on her back and kissed her. Penelope could taste her own sweet musk on the tongue that now danced with hers; she never would have thought such a thing could be so arousing, but it was.

Then she was back under her husband, his hand between her legs. She could feel his finger probing, testing. He took her hand and guided it to his cock.

“See how hard I am for you, my love,” he said.

“I want to… I want to put my mouth on you the way you put yours on me,” she said boldly.

“No.”

“Why?” she asked. “Does it displease you that I asked?”

He smiled and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Quite the opposite. It makes me very happy. But the first time I spill my seed with you, I want it to be inside your sweet pussy. I am so close now, just from the smell and taste and touch of you, my passionate wife, my perfect wife. If you were to put me in your mouth, I would come there. That’s not my plan for tonight.” He held her face between his hands. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” she said. Her heart beat fast as he moved between her legs. He reached between them and guided the head of his cock to her pussy. She could feel the smooth tapered bulb of it pushing into her, straining gently against the thin barrier.

“Just a moment of pain,” he said, and drew back.

Penelope cried out and tensed at the sudden burn, then relaxed as he soothed her with gentle words. The sting was gone, replaced by a different, delicious kind of discomfort, as the walls of her pussy stretched to accommodate him. She’d never felt so full.

“I’m going to move now,” he said, and she nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. The first few strokes hurt, but soon the pain melted entirely away as the motion of his cock inside her alighted a fire of passion. With each thrust of his hips, Penelope felt herself driven up and up and up pleasure’s peak. She heard cries and realized through the haze of bliss that they were her own. Her legs wound around Alton’s hips as if of their own accord. He was fucking her, his strokes long and deep. Then he stopped.

Her eyes flew open wide as she felt him reach beneath her to push the tip of the little trainer against her puckered bottom hole. Her pussy contracted on his cock from the fullness and the unexpected pleasure of this new, forbidden sensation. She whimpered as the object breached her resistant little ring of muscles and slid inside to become completely seated. The fullness now stimulated not just her pussy, but other, unnamed places as he began to thrust once again. The orgasm that rocked her small body took her breath away, the contractions of her pussy so strong that they milked the seed from Alton, drawing spurt after spurt of his milky tribute deep inside her. His mouth found hers, absorbing her cries. Penelope wound her fingers in his hair. She was complete. She was his and he was hers. The innocence she’d once thought to preserve had been given freely to the man who’d given her the gift of receiving joy with beautiful abandon.