The Seduction of an Earl (31 page)

“I am thinking I will be so inclined,” Henry responded with a wink. “I don’t suppose you know what’s for dinner?” he asked then, buttoning up his waistcoat.

Hannah’s eyes glazed over as if she was remembering something. “Onion soup, roast chicken, carrots, beans, rolls, lemon tarts,” she counted off, her voice trailing off. She glanced up at Henry, whose face was split by a huge grin. Leaning over her, he gave one nipple a quick kiss. “My favorite!” he claimed, and then he took his leave.

Chapter 20

Sarah Makes an Announcement

The hour was long past ten. Where could Henry be? He’d said he was going out after dinner for a quick visit with Nathan. But he did that nearly every night. And he always returned before nine. Sarah was quite insistent that her son be in bed by nine. So where could Henry be?

Two weeks
, Hannah thought suddenly. A fortnight. He had promised her two weeks before he would return to Sarah’s bed. But then she had made him promise to bed her every night for another three weeks as punishment for his cursing Harold. Her stomach did a somersault, threatening to toss up the wonderful dinner they’d shared only a few hours ago. Why should she feel so bereft? He loved Sarah. He had for a very long time. So why did the thought of him sharing her bed bring such a feeling of ... emptiness?

Hannah’s hand went to her belly for at least the tenth time that night. Her courses were three days late.
I must be with child!
The thought warmed her, although there was still an ache in her heart. Perhaps she was merely late. Perhaps she would wake up in the morning to find ... No, she would not even think it. She couldn’t think anything but the best news right now. It was all that buoyed her as she listened for the front door.

Voices. She sat up straight in bed, startling Harold enough that the puppy lifted his head and regarded her in surprise. Had she fallen asleep? No, the mantle clock above the fireplace showed eleven. But familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs. She had never felt such relief. And, although they paused for only a second outside her door, they continued farther down the hall. Then she heard his door close, perhaps a bit too hard, and the latch clicked into place.

Holding her breath a moment, Hannah thought perhaps he only meant to undress and put on a dressing gown. Then he would come to her through the dressing room door. But after another ten minutes, when the house was still eerily quiet, she crept out of bed, pulling on her own dressing gown. He had locked his hall door, she was sure, but perhaps the connecting door through their dressing room would still be unlocked.

She motioned for Harold to stay on the bed and went into the dressing room. A sliver of light shown beneath his door, but there were no sounds of movement, nor were there changing shadows in the light. Placing her ear against the door, she listened for a moment. The sound of her own heartbeat nearly drowned out the odd sounds she heard from his room.

Sobbing?
That couldn’t be right. Testing the door knob, she found it unlocked. When she peeked around the edge of the door, she was stunned to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, one hand covering his face as he wept. Wondering if she should let him know of her presence, she immediately chided herself for even pausing to consider what to do.

Something was
wrong
. Her husband was upset.

Even if there wasn’t anything she could do for him, she should at least show that she was concerned. Hurrying to his side, she placed a hand on one side of his face and kissed his temple. “Henry, what’s wrong?” She felt alarm when she realized his tears could be for his son. “Is Nathan alright?” Whatever could be so awful that Henry Forster would be reduced to tears?

Barely aware that Hannah was somehow next to him, her dressing gown unfastened and her nightgown undone at the top, Henry allowed his head to drop against her bosom. The scent of honeysuckle wafted from her body, enveloping him in familiar comfort as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Where had she come from?
It was late. She should be asleep. He felt her kiss on the side of his face and turned his head in that direction. His lips found hers for a quick kiss, but a sob interrupted what needed to be a much more thorough kiss.

“Please, tell me, Henry,” she whispered. She had undone the knot of his cravat and was working to loosen the linen before her fingers moved to his waistcoat. He had divested himself of his topcoat, but there was no sign of it in the room.

Henry allowed his head to roll back to her bosom. He could feel her heartbeat thundering under his ear, the pulse too fast.
Hannah!

“What’s wrong, Henry?” she asked with a bit more urgency.

Henry’s eyes cleared. He glanced about, realizing they were in his room. The connecting door to the dressing room was open, and Harold sat on the threshold, his head cocking to one side as if he, too, wondered what was wrong. “Sarah has ... she has accepted an offer of marriage.”

The words came out leaden, his voice so hoarse he didn’t recognize it as his own. Hannah’s strokes down his arms and back ceased as she stilled her entire body. But her heartbeat thrummed on, increased in speed perhaps, as he left his head where it lay.

A cacophony of emotions swept through Hannah at that moment. Relief, that nothing was wrong with Nathan. Sorrow on Henry’s behalf, for she knew he loved Sarah. Happiness for Sarah, for she secretly knew the woman was no longer satisfied with being whatever she was to Henry. Hope for herself, for she knew at that moment she carried his child. She had to. That news alone would help Henry recover from his shock and agony.

Wouldn’t it?

“You gave her permission to do so?” Hannah whispered the query, her hands starting their gentle strokes across his back and down his arms as she held him. His tears had penetrated the fine lawn of her gown, plastering the translucent fabric against her breast.

“Mmm,” he responded, his head nodding. “Although she did not ask as much as tell me ...” His voice was clearer now.

“Did she tell you
whom
she is to marry?” Hannah kept her words quiet and soft, aware that the tension in his body was sprung tight and could unravel at any moment.

Henry stayed very still for several minutes. “Tad McDonald.”

Although the name should have been a surprise to Hannah, she suddenly felt guilty. She had known even before he said the name. Sarah was quite besotted the last time Hannah had paid a call on her, the day Sarah described her upcoming trip to Bampton to shop as if it was the most important day of her life. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps it was that day that Mr. McDonald had asked for her hand. Perhaps she had known that day she spoke with Hannah – she had seemed about to burst with happiness knowing Henry was married. She had welcomed Hannah so warmly, seemed so intent on telling her everything, although the woman couldn’t exactly admit to having fallen in love with another man. Not when the earl was her protector and the father of her child. But there had been that light in her face, that glow that spoke volumes about how a woman felt ...

“I lied to you,” Henry’s voice broke into her reverie, the words so unexpected she nearly gasped.
Lied? About what?
“I didn’t just go to Sarah’s to spend time with Nathan. I went there ...”

Hannah could sense the tension in his body increase, as if anger and betrayal had suddenly replaced his sorrow.

“I went there to ... to bed Sarah. It has been more than a month since I .., and I meant only to renew my relations with her ...” His breathing had quickened, and his head no longer lay pressed against her. “She is mine, after all. It is my right!”

Hannah let go her hold on him, not sure how to respond to his revelation nor to his rising anger. Or her own flash of  ... was that jealousy she felt just then? She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Sarah was marrying another. “I figured as much when you did not return earlier,” Hannah offered, hoping her conciliatory tone would calm him. The words seemed to have the opposite effect, though. He stood up from the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.

Hannah dared a glance at them before returning her gaze to his face, trying hard not to allow fear to show in her eyes. Henry caught the look, though, and followed Hannah’s quick glance. He unclenched his fists. Biting his lip, he looked around as if he wanted to punch something. “
Damn
her!” he whispered hoarsely.

Starting at his curse, Hannah’s eyes widened. Should she tell him now?
No, not when he was so angry
. Perhaps another approach. He’d gone to Sarah’s expecting to bed her.
So bed me instead
, she thought quickly. Despite his anger and sorrow, the thought of him atop her this very moment sent a thrill through her body. The space between her thighs began throbbing with need, her nipples hardened, and somewhere in her core, desire bloomed. “Take me instead,” she ordered, her chin thrust out. “Pretend I am Sarah. Bed me the way you do her.”

The challenge seemed to catch him by surprise. His brows furrowed. He looked at her with a sideways glance and shook his head quickly.

“Do you undress her, or does she take off her own clothes?” Hannah asked then, rising to her knees on the bed. She slid the dressing gown from her body and tossed it to the side. “Does she remove your clothes?” She reached out to capture the ends of his cravat. She yanked the linen from around his neck and moved to pull his shirt from his breeches. He stepped away, pulling his shirt off his body in a quick motion, his breaths quickening. His hands were undoing the fastenings of his breeches, his eyes boring into hers the entire time. He wore no boots or stockings; he had to have removed them when he first got into the room. With one swift yank, his breeches were off his body. Standing before her, naked, his cock hard and upright, his chest heaving from breathing too fast, Henry looked every inch a predator.

His prey still stood on her knees on the bed, her lips parted and her eyes smoldering, daring him to do his worst. The outline of her erect nipples shown through her nightgown, the dark space above her thighs apparent through the translucent fabric.

Hannah held her breath as he suddenly advanced, an arm like steel wrapping around her waist to force her knees from beneath her. As she fell to the bed, he had the front of her gown between his fists, the cloth rending as he pulled it apart from the top. She stifled the cry of alarm that was about to erupt from her as she felt the shredded fabric flutter to the sides, her arms still encased in its billowy sleeves. His body descended onto hers. She knew instantly there would be no foreplay, no gentle kissing or stroking or licking. Henry was hell-bent for intercourse, hard and fast.

And, at that moment, Hannah’s need matched his.

Opening her legs as his body dropped, she moved to wrap her arms around his neck. He captured them both and forced them above her head, pinning her wrists with an iron grip as his hardened manhood drove home in one hard, unforgiving thrust, filling her instantly. Her upper body rose up in reaction, her heavy-lidded eyes opening wide before returning to their smoldering glare. “Yes,” she hissed, not knowing what else to say to such a frantic assault. The cant of her chin dared him to do it again, and he took the challenge, pulling himself all the way out of her body before plunging back into her as her legs wrapped around his back, her ankles anchoring one another to his back. Her hips lifted to meet his thrust, forcing a growl to escape as he met the unexpected counter thrust and felt the cage of her legs around his body.

“Hannah,” he hissed back, his mouth coming down hard on one of her breasts, his lips and teeth suckling and biting so hard she was sure she would be left with bruises.

Her chest lifting in response, Hannah gasped, her hips again meeting his in the hard, fast rhythm he had quickly established. Although she thought she should feel fear at his animalistic behavior, she instead felt excitement. Arousal. Primal lust. In only one more thrust, she would peak, she would crest and the waves of pleasure would cascade down around her and she would be lost. But what of him? “Now!” she groaned, her chest lifting again, her back arcing as he filled her.

Henry’s mouth came off her breast. “I will
not
spill my seed on this bed,” he growled in response. “Never again!” His cock left Hannah’s body and plowed into her one more time, this time her sheath clenching on him so hard he was forced to allow his climax, forced to allow his seed to spill into her, forced to allow a wave of sharp and sudden pleasure to grab him and violently toss him and leave him gasping for air and seeking respite in the soft body that lay beneath him, the body that was caught in its own spasms of pleasure so violent he had to let go of her wrists so he could hold himself up for just a moment more.

Suddenly released from his hold, Hannah’s arms spread out on either side of her body, the white, billowy sleeves of her ruined nightgown making her look as if she bore angel’s wings. Her hair, spread out on either side of her head, formed a halo on the pillows. But her eyes were still black, black with desire, black with ...
fury
?
Did Sarah not allow him to take his pleasure whilst he was inside her? Did Henry always have to withdraw and spill his seed in her bed?

He must have, when Sarah said, “Now.” Hannah had meant it only as a warning of her impending orgasm, not a demand that he withdraw from her. And then Hannah remembered Sarah’s words.
I have known I will never have another child with Henry. I make sure of it.
All those years Henry spent with Sarah, and yet he could never have her the way he had had Hannah these past two weeks. He could never share in the pleasure of a mutual orgasm, of the sensation of being torn apart in splendid release and put back together piece by piece with the gentle undulations of a woman’s secret place.

Henry’s gaze slowly cleared as his body put itself back together. He still hovered over her, his upper body held up on elbows that threatened to give way at any moment. And he swept his eye over the body beneath him. Hannah looked every bit the angel, her breasts still lifted and lowered with her every labored breath, her smoldering eyes clearing to finally meet his in mutual recognition.

“Oh, good God, what have I done?” he got out as he tried to lift himself from her body. Her legs were still wrapped around his buttocks, though, preventing his spent body from lifting away from her. He collapsed down, burying his head in the pillow next to her head, her spread arm beneath his collarbone. “Oh, Hannah,” he whispered, his voice sounding as if he might cry.

“Shh,” she answered, turning her head so her lips could capture his ear and kiss it gently. They lay like that for several minutes, until Hannah’s legs were too tired to hold up any longer. She slowly lowered them along the back of his thighs before allowing her ankles to unlock and her feet to take purchase on the coverlet.

“Why, Hannah?”

The simple question caught her off-guard, forcing her to stare at the ceiling, a ceiling she realized she’d never seen before. They had only ever shared her bed. She thought for a moment, trying to decide how to answer his simple question. “I am your wife. I could not stand by and do nothing when you needed ...
this
,” she replied quietly, wincing as she heard the explanation. Of course she could have stood by and watched his agony. She could have returned to her room and left him to his mourning. He would recover one day, realize he had a wife he needed to bed every night if he truly wanted an heir. And she would never deny him her body. He knew that, too.

At least, he certainly knew it now.

“We rarely kissed.”

Surprised at the odd comment, Hannah had to suppress a gasp. She brought her free hand to rest on the back of his shoulder. “Why ever not?” she asked in a gentle whisper.

Henry turned his head on the pillow so that his face was very close to the side of hers. “She thought it ... too intimate. Too ... telling, I suppose.”

Sighing, Hannah swallowed. “How sad,” she replied, her voice quiet, its tone matching the word. Perhaps Sarah would find kissing more appropriate with Tad McDonald. When they were husband and wife, society would accept her as something other than the earl’s paramour. “I rather like it when you kiss me,” Hannah added, sighing when she heard his ‘mmm’ in reply.

“I had no idea I would
enjoy
it as much as I do,” he countered, his voice sounding sleepy. His body seemed to start just then. He raised himself up to hover over Hannah before his lips came down onto hers. The kiss was soft and warm, unlike anything they had shared that night. When he pulled away, he said, “I do not want our child to have been conceived this night,” he said, pulling himself out of her. He winced when he saw what his teeth had done to one of her breasts. “Oh, Hannah, I am so sorry,” he murmured, his glance passing between her face and her bruised breast. “I ... Sarah requires ... she can only ...” He stopped and gave a helpless shrug. “It’s almost impossible to bring her to ecstasy unless there is some ... pain,” he finally got out, his frustration with his ex-lover suddenly quite evident.