The Seduction of an Earl (33 page)

Henry gulped. “I can do that,” he said, his voice not sounding the least bit in control. He moved to the other side of the desk, his hands reaching out to rest on her leg. That’s when he noticed the clear outlines of hardened nipples beneath her bodice. She was aroused, there was no doubt of that. The fact that her nipples were evident meant ... the minx wasn’t wearing a corset!

And then he had to remind himself that he had left that morning before helping her dress. But Lily was back to being her abigail. Which meant ... had she planned this assignation? Had she chosen not to wear a corset in anticipation of seducing him? The thought excited him, addled him so thoroughly he found himself quite willing to do whatever she asked.

Slipping a finger under the edge of the silk, he managed to get the stocking to roll down her leg. When it popped off the end of her toes, she lifted her other leg and gave him an expression of feigned boredom. He quickly removed the stocking on that leg, rather proud he was able to do so without snagging the silk.

Lowering her leg from his desk so that she stood on bare feet, Hannah waited patiently while Henry regarded her with barely controlled lust.

“Lady Godiva was
naked
, Henry,” she whispered, wondering why he was staring at her with such a besotted look on his face. She could hardly believe what she was doing, but Elizabeth had been quite insistent that play acting was good for a relationship.
Keep him guessing, Hannah. Keep him interested. Keep him entertained
.

Blinking, Henry moved to stand behind Hannah. His hands were at her shoulders in an instant, his fingers fumbling to undo the buttons down the back of her gown. “I can do this,” he said again, his voice sounding husky. “I’ve become very good at it these past few days,” he said, referring to her frequent requests of assistance when undressing for bed. As a testament to his words, the gown, along with her chemise, were suddenly pulled up and off of her body.

Inhaling sharply, Hannah realized she was completely nude. Turning only her head, she could feel Henry’s eyes raking over her backside before she saw him step up to press the front of his body against her back. His hands had moved up to cup her breasts, his lips to press against her temple.

Hannah resisted the urge to simply allow him whatever he thought he was about to do. Reaching behind her, she undid the fastenings of his breeches, knowing she had successfully freed them when his turgid cock sprang forth to press against her spine. Her hands moved to grab handfuls of his shirt and lift them from his breeches. A shiver arced through her when she heard his growl, although it was probably from his fingers wreaking havoc on her nipples and breasts. She turned her body around to face his, her hands pushing down on his breeches.

Realizing her breasts were no longer in his hands, Henry blinked and saw to removing his shirt. In a moment, he, too, was standing naked in the study.

Hannah gave him a brilliant smile, her face pinking up as she did so. “Time for my ride,” she said, placing the flat of her hand against his chest and maneuvering him backwards toward an armless chair. Breathless, Henry sat down, hard, and leaned back, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Hannah placed her hands on his shoulders and swung one shapely leg over his lap, straddling him. Her swollen breasts were suddenly across from his mouth, her wet sheath coming down onto his erection. In an instant, he had her impaled and trembling as his hands gripped her bottom and his mouth took purchase on a nipple.

“I am afraid this may be a very short ride,” Hannah whispered between gasps for air as his manhood filled her. She was so aroused, it would take but a moment for ecstasy to send her into oblivion. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She held on as she lifted and lowered herself on her toes. Then she realized Henry’s hands, branding her bottom and hips with their heat, were lifting and lowering her as well.

He was suddenly as deep inside her as he would ever be. She clenched hard on him, desperately wanting his ecstasy to match hers. “Henry!” she cried, gripping his back with all her might. The matching groan from Henry sent vibrations through both their bodies. His mouth let go of her breast to say her name in a breathless prayer as his entire body spasmed into pure pleasure that had him almost rocking out of the chair. He stilled himself and once again buried his face into the soft white skin of her bosom.

Boneless and breathless and quite shocked at what she had done, Hannah slumped against Henry’s chest, the side of her head coming down to rest on his shoulder.

“I am suddenly very jealous of horses,” Henry murmured, the words muffled against her skin.

A giggle burbled up from Hannah. “You needn’t be,” she countered playfully.

Henry lifted his head to regard her, a smile still on his lips. It faded slightly as he took in the sight of her blushed body, so wanton and lush and lovely. He realized he should have removed the pins from her hair, so that the silken mass might form a curtain around them. “What ... what was that all about?” he wondered, his brows furrowing suddenly. He made a move as if to lift her off of him, but Hannah clenched hard on his manhood while her hands clung to his neck.

“No, please,” she begged. “Don’t leave me just yet.”

Frowning at her response, Henry tightened the hold of one arm around her back while he lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, wondering at her sudden look of fear. “Hannah, what is it?”

Shivering, Hannah shook her head. A tear had formed in the corner of one eye. She blinked several times in an effort to prevent it from escaping, but it did so anyway, leaving a wet trail along her cheek.

Alarmed, Henry straightened in the chair, his hold on her tighter. “Hannah!” He wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Are you hurt? Did I ... hurt you?”

Hannah was shaking her head, though, and sprinkling the top of his head with urgent kisses. “No, no, nothing like that,” she whispered, dipping her head so that she might see his eyes. “I received a letter from Her Grace, the Duchess of Chichester,” she finally said, her voice so small Henry barely made out her words.

“Lady Charlotte?” he said, his face brightening a bit. Then, when he considered Hannah’s hesitant manner, he became concerned. “Is she .. well?”

Nodding, Hannah loosened her grip from around his neck but left her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Very. She and His Grace plan to make a spring trip to London so that she can make amends with her father. And then she and the duke would like very much to pay a visit here before the Little Season starts in the fall. That is ... if my lord is ... agreeable with the arrangement.”

Henry frowned at her sudden formality. “A moment ago, you were Lady Godiva and I was your
horse
, as I recall. You’re to call me ‘Henry’. Especially when we’re alone. Even when I’m a horse,” he added with feigned amusement. But he saw the unsure look on his wife’s face turn to something approaching fright. “Of course, she and the duke are welcome to visit. I, in fact,
invited
them to do so. Any time they wish. Ellsworth Park ...”

He paused, suddenly wondering if Hannah knew of the details of his brief betrothal to Charlotte Bingham. He’d spoken of her when he first courted Hannah, but he avoided telling her he might have married Lady Charlotte. Had he forced the issue, Henry was quite sure Charlotte would have agreed to the union. But even then, Charlotte had known there would always be a rift between them over the circumstances of the betrothal. The woman would have a scar for the rest of her life because of that damned betrothal. Now that Charlotte was married to a man who had his own scarred visage, Henry wondered if the duke knew how her scar got there. If he did know, had he been forced to accept his less than perfect duchess out of a sense of guilt? Or had he simply fallen in love with the lady and married her in spite of it?
The latter,
he decided, realizing he needed to tell his wife why he held the title to Ellsworth Park. She was Charlotte’s friend. She would understand what had happened.

He was about to continue his comment when Hannah placed a hand along the side of his face. “Ellsworth Park was part of her dowry,” Hannah spoke softly. “She wrote to me about what happened.”

Suddenly embarrassed when he realized Hannah knew more than he thought she would, Henry nodded. Charlotte was her best friend. Of course, the duchess would have written to Hannah. She would have explained what happened that day when Henry showed up at the Wainwright estate intending to ask for Charlotte’s hand in marriage. “The deed had already been signed over to me. When we agreed we should not marry, she insisted I keep Ellsworth Park. To keep it from her cousin.”

Hannah nodded. “I know. And I ... I am in her debt,” she stammered, her eyes searching Henry’s. At his quizzical expression, she added, “If it hadn’t been for Charlotte, do you think ... would you have ever ... sought me out? To be your wife, I mean?” The last words came out in a mere whisper, Hannah’s lips trembling.

Henry stared at her for several seconds. Would he have pursued Lady Hannah, the daughter of a marquess, if Lady Charlotte hadn’t directed him to do so? Would he have been so bold as to show up at Devonville House and request an audience with the marquess in order to ask for the man’s permission to court his daughter when he hadn’t even met the chit? And, if not, would he have eventually met Hannah? He would have been forced to attend a Season in London in search of her. Someone certainly would have introduced them at a
ton
ball or a musicale or a soirée. But the possibility of
never
meeting Hannah – he found he could not imagine such a scenario. “I would have
had
to,” he replied quietly. “I cannot imagine my life without you,” he added in a hoarse whisper, his face displaying an expression of shock.

Hannah’s heart clenched at his simple words. “Nor mine without you,” she whispered back.

Henry’s arms were suddenly like steel bands around her body, pulling her against him so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You send word back to the duke and duchess. Tell them they
must
visit. I insist they do so. Perhaps late August, when the pheasants invade the wheat fields. Joshua and I can hunt while you and Charlotte ...” Hannah’s lips were suddenly covering his, cutting off his words with an urgent kiss.

Stifling the urge to laugh at her enthusiasm, Henry returned the kiss in equal measure. At some point, he felt her hand reach around to grasp one of his hands to pull it between them. She placed it against her abdomen, covering it with her own as she did so.

Henry suddenly pulled his face away from hers, a look of surprise on his face.

“While Charlotte and I share stories of impending motherhood,” Hannah finished for him.

Staring at her for several seconds, his expression of surprise not changing, Henry slowly smiled. “You’re sure? She is sure?” he asked, his face brightening even more at her answering nods. “Oh, Hannah,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her far more gently than he had the moment before.

He pressed his face into her bosom, inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and musk and felt a profound happiness he’d not felt since the birth of his son. So he was startled when a sob racked the soft body he held. His head jerked up to find Hannah crying quietly. “Oh, Hannah,” he repeated in an entirely different tone of voice. “What is it now?” he asked as he reached up to stroke her face.
Why did women who were with child have to cry so much?
he wondered.

Struggling to breathe, Hannah, hiccuped and whimpered before saying, “We ... had an agreement ... that you would b-b-bed me ... every night until I was ... w-w-with child,” she barely managed to get out.

“Yes,” Henry replied hesitantly, wondering at the sadness in what little of her voice he could make out.

“Does that mean ... y-y-you won’t be ... sharing my b-b-bed anymore?” Hannah inhaled deeply, as if steeling herself for his response.

Henry stared at her in disbelief. He remembered the day in the coach when they’d made the agreement. He thought they’d made it with Sarah in mind. And then, a week later, he promised Hannah he would bed her every night for three weeks to make up for having cursed her dog. He hadn’t made that promise with Sarah in mind.

Perhaps Hannah had
her
in mind, though.

Perhaps his wife had decided she didn’t want him and Sarah to continue their relationship as lovers. The mother of his child had made it perfectly clear his conjugal visits were no longer welcome the night she told him about her impending marriage to Tad McDonald. And Henry had begun to wonder if they ever had been.

With Sarah out of his life, at least as a lover, did Hannah really think he was going to quit spending his nights with her? Now that she had him so besotted he could barely think straight? So bewitched he actually came in from the fields every day for luncheon just so he could see her? So addled he would play horse to her Lady Godiva in his study? In the late afternoon, no less?

“Actually,” Henry finally spoke, “It means I won’t be
bedding
you anymore, my love,” he said quite sternly. The sound of Hannah’s sob could probably be heard through the entire house, and his heart clenched hard at how cruel his words must have sounded just then. “However, I intend to make
love
to you as often as possible. Your bed, my bed, this chair,” he said wearily, realizing he was still buried deep inside her. “I’d suggest the large table in the kitchen, but Mrs. Chambers can be rather prickly, and I shouldn’t like to be naked anywhere near her meat cleaver.”

Hannah’s body stilled so suddenly, Henry had to pull his face away from the soft breast that was cradling his cheek. He’d been listening to her heartbeats, the tattoo a gentle rhythm under his ear until this latest round of tears. The tempo had turned to one more closely matching her heartbeat after he’d pleasured her, after she’d been brought to ecstasy and was clinging to him as if her very life depended on it.

“Are you ... teasing?” she whispered, sniffling.

Henry cocked his head over the chair back, taking in the sight of Hannah’s tear stained face, her tentative smile, her soft white shoulders, the crest of her collarbones and the round, pink-tipped breasts he so adored. “I assure you, my lady, I will be at your beck and call whenever you ever wish to make love.”

Hiccuping, Hannah lowered her head to his shoulder. “Oh, Henry,” she whispered, her lips nipping at his earlobe and kissing the space between his neck and shoulder. Within a moment, she felt his hands slide to her hips and his manhood harden inside her, his breaths quicken and his pulse beneath her breasts increase two-fold. Even before his hands could lift and lower her, her toes began pushing her up and lowering her around his straining cock. “I do not think Lady Godiva had quite the right idea,” she managed to get out just before Henry placed his thumb onto the swollen space where their bodies met and merged.

“Right idea, wrong horse,” Henry countered, just before the growl of his tightening body erupted from his throat. Had they been anywhere but the study, he might have allowed the entire sound of his pleasure to escape. Instead, he simply groaned and covered Hannah’s mouth with his own as ecstasy took them.