The Seduction of an Earl (13 page)

“Agreed,” Hannah replied with a nod of her own. Having carefully watched him as he made his proclamation, she wondered if he might kiss her on those occasions. Or were kisses reserved only for Sarah? For the kiss he had bestowed on her only moments ago was quite ... pleasant, really. Very satisfactory. Thrilling, even, when she thought for a moment she was about to be dumped on the floor of the coach – or rather onto poor Harold – had Henry let go his hold on her.

Henry continued to stare down at Hannah, thinking of the kiss they had just shared. She had allowed it quite readily, returned it even. Had he wanted to continue the kiss, he realized she would not have objected.
She’s gazing at me. As if she expects something
. “What ... what is it?” he wondered, his face lowering to just inches above hers.

“I would not object to being kissed, of course ... whenever you should think it ... appropriate,” she stammered.
Appropriate?
How could her command of the English language leave her with such a poor choice of words? She could have said
whenever you desire
or
whenever you wish
or
anytime of the day or night. 

Good God, could she read his mind?
“I ... Thank you. I will remember that,” Henry answered, watching her face as it pinked up again. Before he was quite aware of what he was doing, his lips were back on hers, completing the kiss he had started only moments ago, his attention so thoroughly on the kiss and the feel of her lips and the texture of her teeth against his tongue and the taste of her mouth and the scent of honeysuckle that wafted from her hair, that he didn’t realize the coach had taken a turn into the yard of a posting inn until the driver had jumped down from the box and opened the door to the coach. Ending the kiss as quickly as he could, and then chiding himself for feeling embarrassed at being caught kissing his own wife, Henry straightened Hannah on his lap and nodded at the driver as the man put down the steps.

While the horses were being changed out for a fresh team, they would have time to get tea and sustenance in the posting inn. For Henry, the time would give him a chance to learn more about his new wife. For Hannah, the time would give her a chance to realize her new husband was far more than she expected.

As for Harold, it was a chance to relieve himself and to take a nap in blessed silence.

Chapter 9

Welcome to Gisborn Hall

After nearly eight hours of traveling in the well-sprung coach, Henry was relieved when they made the turn toward Tadpole Bridge and his lands just north of the River Isis. Hannah had fallen asleep shortly after their luncheon a few hours before, and only stirred when the coach took a nasty bump or swayed more than usual. Her head lay in the small of his shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively across the back of her shoulders. His thoughts went to later, when he would join her in the mistress suite at Gisborn Hall and make her his wife. He wondered if she’d allow him to share her bed for the entire night, or if she would insist he return to his room.

“Is that Gisborn Hall?” he heard in an awed whisper. Henry smiled, feeling a sense of pride. “Indeed,” he answered, giving Hannah a kiss on the forehead before allowing her to raise herself to a sitting position. Harold noticed the slowing coach and raised his head, his ears perking up.

The imposing gray stone structure appeared to have been dropped from high up so that it embedded itself into the earth, its foundations quite solid and at an angle to the road leading up to the circular drive. Rectangular except for where the front doors were encased in a portico, the house was symmetrical down to the two topiary trees that flanked the entry. Dozens of windows stretched along the second story, each placed in perfect symmetry. The windows on either side of the front door were in triplets and pairs, suggesting the rooms there were larger, perhaps the library and parlor. From a distance, it looked simply grand.

Hannah felt a stirring and grinned; she would be mistress of this house. Once they had pulled up into the drive and the horses were slowing in front of the double doors, she noted how the façade was weathered, one window was cracked and the plantings along the front of the house appeared in need of a gardener’s touch. A bit of work and it would be a suitable home, she thought.

The coach door opened. Harold lifted himself and stepped out, apparently aware that neither human would be able to do so until he was out of the way. Gisborn squeezed Hannah’s hand and stepped out, turning to hand her down. Once Hannah was sure her feet her under her and her skirts were shaken out, she glanced around. A man not much younger than her was hurrying up to see to the horses, and a footman was undoing the straps that held their valises to the back of the coach. She allowed Henry to escort her up the five steps and to the front doors. She couldn’t help but notice Henry inhale before he pulled the brass knocker. Harold sat next to her as they all waited.

No one answered. At least, not immediately.

Hannah glanced at Henry, wondering if they had arrived on the butler’s day off. Hadn’t Henry sent word ahead that they would be arriving today? She was about to ask when the door opened to reveal an elderly man, so stooped he had to lean back in order to determine it was his master who stood at the door. “Ah, Gisborn,” the butler said as he stepped back to allow them entrance, a gnarled hand waving them in.

“Parkerhouse. I’d like to introduce my wife, Hannah Forster, Lady Gisborn,” Henry said. “Oh, and this is Harold MacDuff,” he added as he indicated the dog.

The butler, who was dressed quite formally and looked as if he’d been on staff at the house for at least fifty years, bowed in her direction. “Countess,” he said by way of acknowledgment, not showing the least bit of surprise. “Harold,” he said, affording the dog a nod. “May I take your cloak?”

Henry gave Hannah a cocked eyebrow, an expression which seemed to say that Parkerhouse was always unflappable. Hannah undid the buttons on her pelisse and allowed the ancient butler to help her out of the coat while Henry gave instructions. “Could you let Mrs. Batey know we’ve arrived? And Mrs. Chambers, too? I believe we’ll have dinner in the smaller dining room. And have the mistress suite readied for my wife.”

Parkerhouse nodded and shuffled off. Hannah watched him go. “How long has he been in service?” she wondered, taking Henry’s proffered arm. He led her down the long hall to the right, and Harold followed, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“He was my uncle’s butler and my grandfather’s butler before that,” Henry said with a shrug. Stopping at the first open door on the right, he waved her in. “The parlor, my lady,” he said with a nod. “If you’ll pull the bell, we may get some tea.”

Hannah glanced around, noting the rich fabrics, the elegant furnishings. Despite the exterior looking as if it needed some attention, this room did not. Surfaces gleamed, and the Aubusson carpet was recently cleaned. “Take me on a tour of the whole house,” she suggested, moving to stand before him.

Henry looked down on her, surprised by her request. “As you wish,” he agreed. Taking her hand, they left the parlor and wandered the halls of Gisborn’s estate home, Henry reciting interesting facts along the way, pointing at various artifacts and explaining their significance. Hannah hung on his every word, determined to learn everything she could about the house. She also noticed very few servants about; a footman or two bowed as they passed, but she saw no maids. When they reached his study, the room to the left of the front doors and the last stop on their tour of the main floor, he hurried to leaf through the notes that lay on a silver salver, shaking his head as he did so. “Looks like I chose a good time to be gone,” he murmured. He watched as Hannah slid her fingers over the backs of the chairs, gazed at the shelves of books and studied the framed drawings hung on the walls. Harold seemed to understand the significance of the room. He settled himself in front of the hearth.

“You are an inventor, aren’t you?” Hannah asked rhetorically, studying one of the drawings that lay unfolded on a library table. It was a detail of the irrigation ditch where the gate would be installed, along with drawing of the gate and tracks in which it would ride when it was installed. It was exactly as he had described it in the Devonville House parlor just a few days ago.

Moving to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her arms and holding her hands with his, Henry kissed her temple. “I am a farmer, my lady, but I admit to indulging my whims when I think it best for the estate,” he acknowledged, his lips barely touching her ear as he said the words.

Hannah grinned, turning her head so she could regard him. “Indulging your whims?” she repeated, thinking he meant spending money on luxuries. Although the rooms they had toured were elegant and well-appointed, nothing was done to excess, nor were there expensive objets d’art on display nor were there paintings by masters decorating the walls. Henry dressed well and wore boots that suggested they were custom made, but other than a ruby cravat pin, he did not wear jewelry. Hannah glanced at her wedding ring, obviously the signet ring for the earldom. The ring was so large, she had to wear it on her middle finger, and even then, the band was wrapped with a bit of yarn to ensure it stayed put on her finger. “When have you ever done such a thing as indulge your whims?” she wondered with a teasing grin.

“When I bought this for you,” he said, pulling a diamond and ruby ring from his pocket and settling it onto her left ring finger, next to where his signet ring already rested. “And when I married you,” he kissed her when she turned around in his arms, obviously surprised by the ring.

“Henry,” she breathed, holding her hand up before her face as he held her around her waist. “It’s ... it’s beautiful,” she said, her tone reverent. She placed her other hand against his face and stood on tiptoes so she could kiss him. Henry pulled her against him, returning the kiss in equal measure. At the sound of a throat clearing, the two quickly ended the kiss and turned to the doorway.

“Dinner is served, my lady, my lord,” Parkerhouse stated in a tone suggesting he hadn’t been aware they were engaged in a kiss.

Stealing guilty glances at one another, the two made their way to the small dining room and had their first dinner together as Lord and Lady Gisborn.

Hannah lay sleeping in the copper tub, her knees slightly bent and her breasts barely covered by water that had probably been covered with bubbles when she first climbed in.
She looks like a mermaid
, Henry thought, not quite sure what a mermaid should look like but deciding she was what he would imagine one to be if someone ever brought up the topic.

He dipped a finger in the water.
Still warm
. And the tub, a rather large one as it was designed for a man of his size, had plenty of room for him even given the mermaid who occupied it.

Slowly, Henry stepped into the scented water, making sure one foot was secure on the bottom of the tub before bringing his other foot up and into the tub. Hannah’s body moved forward, her head leaning to one side as she dozed. Henry lowered himself behind her, his arms along her back and gently pushing her so her knees bent a bit more. His own legs folded on either side of her body as he lowered himself to sit behind her. Wrapping one hand around her waist, he pulled her body back against his and watched with barely contained lust as Hannah’s head lolled onto his chest. The scent of honeysuckle caught in his nostrils. He breathed deeply, the inhalation interrupted when he noticed her bare breasts. Their curves were just above the surface of the bubble-topped water, her rosy nipples beautifully on display. No longer in the warm water, they tightened into ruched buds. Kissable buds.

At that moment, Henry wanted nothing more than to reach down with his lips and kiss one of those nipples. Or both, really. And ever so slowly pull them into his mouth and suckle each until she was crying in pleasure and wet and ready for him. His cock hardening at the thought, he had to readjust Hannah’s body as it rested against him. She stirred and her head rolled to the other side of his chest, leaving the side of her neck fully exposed. Lowering his lips to the space under her ear, he ever so carefully kissed her. His tongue reached out and captured her earlobe, his lips closing over it to suckle it as lightly as he could manage given his odd position. Hannah’s slight moan spurred him to move his mouth down her neck, his kisses continuing as he sipped and suckled the skin there. In order to kiss the tops of her breasts, though, he would be forced to move her body slightly to one side. One arm cradled her side as he used the other to pull her closer. Perhaps his lips came down too hard on the mounded curve of her breast, or perhaps the chill of her breasts being entirely out of the water roused her. Whatever it was, Hannah was suddenly wide awake.

And had there been anyone else with a bedchamber on the second floor, they would have been as well.

Henry was reminded of the first time his father took him fishing. There was the sensation of rolling waves lifting and lowering the boat. There was the feel of the fish as it caught his line, the smooth way in which it swam up as he pulled back his rod, the weight of it barely noticeable until the fish broke the surface of the water. Then its tail lashed about, sending a cascade of water over the top of him while the rest of its body undulated uncontrollably, making the fish suddenly so heavy he couldn’t hang on and finally had to let go or be drowned in the effort to take it aboard.

When the water in the tub evened out, a thoroughly drenched Henry was staring at his very startled wife. She had somehow managed to turn herself completely over so that she was now on her hands and knees in the tub, her shoulders, back and rather beautiful, white bottom clearly out of the water. Henry knew at once where her hands were – one was planted firmly on one of his thighs while the other was proving to be rather bothersome in its current location. “My lady, if you do not move this hand,” he wrapped one of his own around her wrist and pulled up a bit to release the pressure on his groin, “I won’t be able to father the children you so desperately want, and I apparently need as heirs,” he managed to get out between gritted teeth.

Gasping, Hannah lifted her hand, but in doing so, lost her balance and pitched forward, one cheek and her breasts colliding with his rather solid chest, the dusting of crisp hair that covered it now soaked and plastered to his skin. She let out a rather audible “Oof”. The resulting wave of water from the sudden movement rebounded from the end of the tub and then lifted and landed her torso farther up onto his body. Capturing her around the waist with one arm, Henry held onto her until the waves subsided. She was about to attempt to push away from his body – he could tell from her startled expression and the way one palm of a hand was pressing against his chest – when he secured her completely by wrapping his other arm beneath her bottom. His still engorged cock, now made even harder as he realized the position into which she had managed to place herself with the help of the water, was pressed firmly against her soft belly.

“Oh!” she got out, her eyes round as they regarded his face. She then lowered them to take in the sight of his bare chest and his equally bare arms. She dared not lift herself and look between the breasts that were pressed quite firmly into his chest. She might have been a virgin, but Elizabeth had described a man’s member in extreme detail, so even Hannah knew what caused the throbbing sensation she felt pounding against her belly. There was a matching one deep inside her, its throbbing rhythm the same as the one against her belly. The tension in her body left suddenly as she sighed and allowed her body to be buoyed by the water and held in place by his arms.

“I think I might have enjoyed fishing a great deal more had I known I could catch a mermaid as beautiful as you,” Henry murmured, his voice so husky he barely recognized it.

If the words suggested he was humored by what had occurred, Hannah could not detect it in his eyes nor in the tone of his voice. And whatever ire she’d felt at discovering Henry in her bathtub – well,
his
bathtub, actually, but her bath water – was quickly replaced with her sudden need to be held by him. “And what does a man do when he catches a mermaid?” she countered in a whisper, her gaze traveling from the line of slight stubble along his jaw to his lips. Her own lips parted in anticipation.

“He kisses her senseless, of course,” Henry replied, again with no hint of humor. “And then he dries her off and takes her to a very soft bed and makes love to her until she is completely and thoroughly pleasured.”

Hannah held her breath. “Oh,” she whispered. “I think I would like to be that mermaid. Can I be ... that mermaid?” she asked in a voice so alluring, she barely recognized it as her own.

Henry lips were on hers in an instant, his arms pulling her body farther up his while he allowed his own to slide down the back of the tub a bit.
Good God, she is wanton when given the chance
, he thought as he slipped his tongue between her lips and teeth. She tasted of mint and smelled of honeysuckle and whatever citrus scent the disappearing bubbles gave off. As his hand caressed one of the globes of her bottom, hers were sliding up his chest and out to his shoulders. His other hand moved up the side of her body, his thumb seeking the side of her mounded breast where it pressed against his chest. Barely touching the wet skin there, he was thrilled when he felt her body shudder, her lips pulling away from his for only an instant so that she could gasp. When he had recaptured her lips, he used his other thumb to caress the side of her other breast. He smiled at her similar reaction.

Everything Henry was doing felt so wicked, so decadent, so wrong to Hannah, and yet she had to remind herself he was her husband. Did he do this to Sarah? Was she as receptive to his touch, to his kisses? Did she feel these pleasures? Was she wanton or demure or ..? Henry had moved a hand back to her bottom and was attempting to slide a finger between her thighs. Opening her legs a bit – she could if she bent her knees slightly around the tops of his thighs – she cried out as the finger made contact with that rather sensitive spot he’d touched the night before. Arching her back in response to the sharp and sudden stab of pleasure, her breasts came off his chest.

Henry watched, fascinated as Hannah’s head was thrown back, her lips parted as the wave of ecstasy gripped her. He was reminded of the first time he’d seen her, playing with Harold in the yard, her head thrown back in delight as the dog licked her neck. Except now, her expression was far more ... mature, wanton, perhaps. And her swollen breasts, with their ruched buds, were suddenly at a rather advantageous position with respect to his mouth. Circling his finger around the swollen nub of her womanhood one more time, he placed his lips over one of her breasts and began to suckle and kiss it. A shudder passed under his lips. Sensing how close she must be to her release, he drew the side of his tongue across the nipple while his finger stroked her womanhood one last time before he slid it into the warm, wet sheath.
God, she was tight
. He wanted desperately to be inside her, his own cock so engorged he was sure it was leaving a mark on her belly where it pressed into her. But he concentrated on her pleasure, on the cresting wave that was about to break and  ... he felt a great deal of satisfaction as she suddenly tensed and then cried out his name. In another instant, her body went limp and fell down onto his. Even as he held her, as he stroked her back and her arms and gentled her to relax against him, he could feel the trembling of her entire body.