The Unexpected Bride (19 page)

Peter felt her hips move and knew that she was ready for him. Gently he pressed her legs further apart and slid one hard, muscled thigh between them. He moved his manhood suggestively against her, still fondling the sensitive core of her femininity as his tongue thrust deeply into her mouth in erotic anticipation. Releasing her lips momentarily, he gazed down at her face, flushed with passion, and whispered hoarsely, ‘Shall I take you, little virgin? Do you want me?’

The answer was little more than a helpless sob of longing. He hovered over her, balanced on his elbows, stroking her face, and again asked softly, ‘Do you want me, Penny?’

Wordlessly she nodded, her arms reaching for him urgently.

‘Say it, little one,’ he insisted, watching her face.

‘You know I do!’ she whispered. Her face was bathed in tears.

‘I want you, little one, all of you!’ he whispered passionately.

Unable to wait any longer, Peter parted her thighs and swung his other leg over so that he lay intimately
cradled by her body. With gentle patience he pressed himself against her, throbbing with barely controlled desire as he moved back and forth, teasing her with the promise of his masculinity, his own senses reeling in expectation. Then, as her hips lifted in innocent invitation, he took her. He felt the resistance of the fragile barrier and steadied for a split second before broaching her maidenhead with infinite tenderness.

He felt her stiffen, heard her soft cry of pain mingled with pleasure as he possessed her, and stopped immediately, whispering endearments and encouragement, giving her time to get used to him. Feeling her relax, he withdrew slightly to thrust again.

This time she cried out. ‘Oh, Peter, don’t stop! Please don’t stop!’

They were the last words she spoke for a very long time. She felt his lips come down on hers in absolute mastery, his tongue ravishing her mouth in an erotic counterpoint to the gentle rhythm of his loins. It seemed to Penelope that the darkness swirled around her and exploded as Peter increased the tempo, his thrusts lifting her to wild heights of joy.

Sensing that she was close to the edge, Peter slowed down and pulled back slightly, then, as she cried out in protest, he took her all over again. To Penelope it was as though the world shattered as he surged back into her, taking possession of her very soul.

Peter lay dozing in the early-morning light, listening to a song thrush with Penelope still cradled in his arms, just as she had fallen asleep after their lovemaking. He looked down at her peaceful face and smiled tenderly as he thought back on their belated bridal night.

She had been so responsive to him, but so endearingly innocent in her passion! It occurred to Peter with a jolt that he had never enjoyed a woman so much in all his experience. Furthermore, he knew that he had never cared so much about a woman’s pleasure. It was oddly important for her sake, not just as a feather in his cap.

He caressed her shoulder through the silky auburn curls which spread in wild abandon over her and spilled onto his chest. So soft, so sweet! He couldn’t believe that he had been stupid enough to distrust her innocence! His hand moved to stroke her cheek, the corner of her tender mouth which had melted in complete surrender to his desire. He longed to make love to her again, but told himself that to awaken her would be selfish.

At this point the thrush, perhaps aware of his feudal master’s need, alighted on the casement, singing vigorously. The speckled breast swelled with ecstatic song, expressing Peter’s mood perfectly. Penelope opened her eyes with a contented sigh. She wondered for a moment why she was lying in such an odd, yet comfortable position.

Then memory came flooding back as she realised that she was nestled very snugly in her husband’s arms and that he was fondling her cheek. A blush stained her face as she recalled exactly why Peter was in her bed. Had she disappointed him? Or, worse still, disgusted him with her enjoyment?

‘Peter?’ It was little more than a whisper, but he heard the nervousness in her voice and, watching the emotions play across her face, had a very fair idea of its cause. He had to reassure her. It hurt him strangely
that she should have any doubt of his delight in their union.

‘Yes, little one, are you all right?’

She wondered at the concern in his voice. ‘Yes, why do you ask?’

He gathered her still more closely in his arms and went on, ‘You were so lovely, and I wanted you so much, that I thought I might have hurt you.’

The sincerity in his voice and the fact that one hand had found its way to her breast, where it was making it very hard for her to think straight, let alone speak, convinced her that he had not been
too
badly disappointed. Surely, too, he had not minded that she had enjoyed it if he was persisting in an action he knew she would respond to!

She was unsure how to answer him, finally opting for the truth. ‘It only hurt a little, just at first, then…’ She stopped, shyly.

‘Then?’ he prompted teasingly, enjoying her embarrassment.

‘Then…it was w-w-wonderful!’ Then, gaining confidence, ‘And you, did you…? I mean, was it…? I didn’t know what to do…’

‘Are you asking if I enjoyed making love to you?’ interrupted Peter. ‘I must be a very bad lover if I could leave you in any doubt that you were beautiful in every way. And if you had any thought that I had finished with you, Madam Wife, get rid of it right now. I’ve wasted nearly two months of our marriage and I intend to make up for lost time!’

He then proceeded to demonstrate quite incontrovertibly how much he had enjoyed himself. His reassurances were wholly convincing to Penelope, who re
sponded in a manner which left her husband in no doubt that his bride had no regrets about the belated wedding night.

When George entered the breakfast parlour he found Peter polishing off the remains of what had obviously been a hearty meal. Peter looked up as his friend appeared. ‘Good morning, George.’

‘Morning, Peter. How did you find Penny this morning?’

Now what the deuce was there in that, wondered George, to make Peter blush? He blinked in surprise as Peter disappeared behind the newspaper.

‘She’s very well, but I’ve managed to persuade her to breakfast in bed,’ answered Peter. ‘George, I don’t think I really thanked you for what you did yesterday. There…there are no words. Penny told me that you saved her life…’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Peter, you would have done the same! So would anyone!’ said George, flushing. ‘I’m just glad that she’s still alive and unhurt.’ He noted with delight that Peter had dropped the rather formal use of his wife’s full name. Without being precisely glad about the attempt to murder Penelope, he realised that it had permanently shaken Peter out of his mood of distrust.

The entrance of Meadows saved George from further embarrassment. The butler had been very much upset the previous day and it was obvious that he was still shaken. He poured a cup of tea for Peter and handed it to him, saying, ‘I’ve sent Gelert up to Miss Penny, Master Peter, and her breakfast. Are you sure she’s quite all right?’

‘She’s fine, Meadows. I’m going up to her after Mr Carstares and I discuss what’s to be done. I’ll tell her
you were asking.’ By avoiding George’s eye Peter somehow managed to keep a straight face until his butler had left the room.

‘Told you so!’ said George smugly, ‘“Miss Penny”! D’you think he even noticed what he said?’

‘Probably not!’ said Peter with a grin.

Conversation revolved largely around how to deal with the previous day’s attack. George was of the opinion that Peter should return to town with Penelope to let Bow Street deal with the affair, and Peter was inclined to agree.

‘If it were just myself I’d stay here, but Penny will be safer in town. Here she would have to be confined to the house at all times. Obviously now we have to assume that the bridge was
not
an accident. At least in town it will be far more risky for anyone to make an attempt upon either of us.’

George nodded and said, ‘But you can’t deal with it alone, Peter. Even if only for Penny’s sake, you must let the Runners know.’ It was apparent to George that the attempt on Penelope’s life had shocked Peter into a realisation of how foolish he had been. There was a note of tenderness in his voice when he spoke of her, making it plain to see that his determination to protect her did not stem merely from a sense of duty, but from affection.

Peter was silent for a moment. ‘The last thing I want is publicity, but I think you’re right. I’ll send a message to Penny’s sister and brother-in-law. They might be able to come up to town as well. Penny isn’t very fond of town, and if we go it will mean attending some functions, or there will be gossip. She’ll find it easier with family there.’

‘Will you trust a letter like that to the post?’ asked George.

‘No, I won’t. You’re going to take it! Richard Winton’s a decent chap, very fond of Penny, we can count on him in a corner. Besides that I suppose Carrington will be eager to assist, after Jack tried to elope with his sister?’

George shook his head. ‘No doubt he would, but he and his mother have taken a house in Bath for several months. They have taken Amelia out of school and are introducing her quietly into society to take her mind off the whole business. Carrington feels it’s best for him to stay close. Encourage the chit to confide in him a bit so he can guide her more easily.’

‘Oh.’ Peter thought about that. ‘He’s probably right. Well, I can’t ask him to drop his own responsibilities to solve my problems! We’ll manage with you and Winton to stand buff!’ He got up and paced around the room. ‘Blast Jack! If I get my hands on him he’ll rue the day he was born!’

‘No proof, old man. He’d deny everything even if we could get him arrested.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of getting him arrested! I had something far more personal in mind! And I wish to God Carrington
had
called him out! He’d have blown a hole in him and saved us all a lot of trouble!’

T
hree days later Lord and Lady Darleston, accompanied by Gelert, left Darleston Court for London. Penelope had been horrified by the thought of London society, but once the entire situation had been made plain to her she had been forced to admit the sense of going to London. The prospect of being with Phoebe had gone a long way towards reconciling her to the necessity, so she set out happily enough.

They arrived in London on a cold, wet evening. Dusk was falling and the cobbled streets shone wet in the lamplight. ‘Nearly there, Penny. Are you tired?’ asked Peter, concerned at her white face.

‘A little,’ she confessed, thinking to herself that it was worth being tired to hear the caring note in his voice. Since the night after the attack Peter had not slept with her, but his manner towards her had been consistently affectionate and protective. He had insisted that she recover completely from her shock and be properly rested before the long trip to London, and Penelope was instinctively aware that he needed time to adjust to the new intimacy of their relationship. Yet the door between their rooms had remained open, and
when she was restless at night or bad dreams disturbed her sleep Peter always seemed to be there.

Shyly Penelope felt for Peter’s hand and leaned against his shoulder. It was all so different from their last journey together in a chaise, she thought. Then she had been terrified of her unseen, unknown husband. This time she knew that even if he never loved her, at least he was her friend. Peter looked down at her and gently disengaged his hand, but only to slip his arm around her shoulders. She turned to him, smiling as she felt his hand under her chin, lifting it gently. Then his lips were on hers in a brief, tender kiss.

The chaise drew up before the Darleston townhouse in Grosvenor Square. Peter looked out at it through the pouring rain, noting the lights shining from it. Meadows had come up earlier in the day with the rest of the staff to open the house. A footman ran down the stairs from the front door to open the door of the chaise and let down the steps. ‘Here we are, Penny. Let me help you out,’ said Peter. He lifted her out and set her carefully on the pavement. Gelert frisked around them, delighted to be out of the confines of the chaise.

Meadows greeted them at the door. ‘Good evening, my lord and lady. Refreshments are laid out in the library. I trust that your journey was not too tiring?’

‘Thank you, Meadows. You’re very formal all of a sudden,’ said Peter.

‘Mr and Mrs Winton, Mr Carstares and Miss Sarah Ffolliot are awaiting you in the library,’ said Meadows with dignity.

An undignified shriek came from halfway down the hall accompanied by the sound of running feet.
‘Penny!’

Penny swung around and held out her arms to catch her little sister. ‘Sarah! Whatever are you doing here?’

‘Mama has gone to stay with Mrs Lacy in Bath because she’s ill and begged Mama to come, so the house is shut up and I am staying with Phoebe and Richard. They weren’t going to bring me to London but I told them I’d come on the stagecoach if they left me behind or sent me to Bath!’ explained Sarah breathlessly. ‘Oh, I
am
glad to see you!’

‘Good evening, Darleston. I do apologise for springing this hoyden on you without warning.’

Peter turned to see Richard Winton and Phoebe watching the reunion in amusement.

‘Richard!’ gasped Penelope. ‘Where’s Phoebe?’

‘I’m here, dearest,’ said Phoebe, running to her.

The meeting was on the whole a noisy one. The three girls all talked at once, while Gelert signified his delight in having them all together by barking frantically as he leapt from one to another in a manner highly prejudicial to the safety of several chairs.

‘Thank you for coming, Winton,’ said Peter over the din, holding out his hand.

Richard took it in a friendly grip and said, ‘No thanks are needed, Darleston. Penny is as dear to me as my own sister. Carstares explained everything.’

‘Good. Will you stay for dinner? Where are you putting up?’ asked Peter.

‘We are at my sister’s house, and we should be delighted to stay for dinner. Carstares has already informed your staff that we would be doing so,’ said Richard with a grin.

‘Good for him! By the way, where is he?’ asked Peter.

‘In the library, poring over your chessboard. Sarah has him very neatly trapped!’

‘Good Lord, George is quite a dab at chess!’ said Peter in amazement.

‘Not as good as Sarah, I’m afraid!’ laughed Richard. ‘John Ffolliot was an expert and he taught all the girls. I avoid playing with Sarah. She’s nearly as good as Penny. Phoebe I can at least beat three times out of five, but I suspect she gives me the odd game to salve my dignity. Sarah and Penny have no such delicacy, as you will doubtless find out!’

‘Shall we rescue him, then? Meadows, when will dinner be ready?’ asked Peter.

‘In twenty minutes, my lord.’

‘Excellent! Thank you Meadows.’

‘You’re not going to interrupt the game, are you?’ asked Sarah indignantly, catching this conversation. ‘Mr Carstares and I have been having such a good time. He has offered to teach me piquet after dinner.’

‘At least that may give poor George a chance to salvage his pride after a game of chess with you!’ said Penelope. ‘Leave the chessboard set up, dearest. You can always finish the game later.’

At the end of dinner the ladies very correctly withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to the enjoyment of their port and brandy. The presence of the servants at dinner had precluded any discussion of the problem at hand, so the men did not linger but joined the ladies in the drawing room almost immediately. A fire had been lit and several lamps cast a warm glow over the room. It was a large apartment, furnished luxuriously but without ostentation. Most of the furniture was of an antique date, and dark wood gleamed with beeswax. Penelope
and Phoebe were ensconced on a Queen Anne sofa, while Sarah sat on a rug before the fire with Gelert.

The three girls looked up as the gentlemen entered, and Gelert thumped his tail in greeting. It occurred to Peter that he had not seen this room appear so homelike since his mother’s death. Somehow, he thought, Penny made it different. Phoebe had vacated her seat beside Penelope and gone to sit with Richard, so Peter, rather self-consciously, sat beside his wife.

She turned to him at once. ‘Peter—Phoebe, Sarah and I have been talking, and we think it will be a good idea if Sarah stays here with us. That will give me a constant companion who will arouse no gossip. What do you think?’

Peter was taken aback. ‘What do you think your mother would say? It is a good idea, but Mrs Ffolliot might conceivably object to me endangering two of her daughters. Besides, I was planning to look after you myself!’

‘If Penny’s in it then so am I!’ said Sarah.

Peter smiled at her and said, ‘We’re all in it, thanks to my unspeakable cousin. Your mother, however, might prefer you to be kept out of the firing line. I’ve little doubt Winton would prefer Phoebe out of danger!’

‘I would, of course,’ said Richard. ‘But if we try to handle this without involving them we’ll never know what they’re up to. Much better to work with them, in my opinion. I sent a message to Mrs Ffolliot, telling her the situation. Her reply reached us at my sister’s house. She can’t come herself as her friend is ill and needs her. She wrote that if Sarah was a problem we were to send her to Bath but that she would be more useful in London. If she sends for Sarah I’ll be very
much surprised; this was probably the sort of thing she had in mind.’

‘Very well, Sarah stays here. Penny can lend you what you need tonight. We’ll send over for the rest tomorrow, Sarah,’ said Peter. He was rewarded with a beaming smile from his young sister-in-law and a hug from his wife. ‘What about George?’

‘I can stay in my lodgings or here, whichever you think best,’ said George.

‘I think we need to consider our strategy,’ said Richard thoughtfully. ‘We can tackle this in two ways, as I see it. One, we can make it perfectly obvious that we are surrounding Penny and Darleston. You know, make Frobisher realise that we are on to him. Scare him off. Or, two, we can be a little more subtle, let him think we don’t know and—’

‘Try to smoke him out!’ interrupted Sarah. ‘Good idea, Richard!’

‘Naturally if it were Sarah he wanted to relieve us of,’ continued Richard, ‘the second plan would be best. Since, however, we want to avoid any further danger to Penny, my first suggestion might be more appropriate.’

‘Definitely!’ said Peter with feeling. ‘Sorry to seem disobliging, Sarah, but I have no intention of giving my cousin the slightest chance of harming Penny! It might be third time lucky for him! George, you’re staying here, if you really don’t mind.’

George nodded cheerfully. ‘Much more comfortable than my lodgings!’

‘Never mind, Sarah,’ said Penelope consolingly. ‘I dare say we can have a lot of fun scaring Mr Frobisher!’

Phoebe smiled. ‘You will be able to play lots of chess, Mr Carstares!’

‘Much obliged to you, ma’am!’ said George dryly.

‘What about Carrington?’ asked Richard. ‘He’s a good friend of yours, Darleston. Where is he at the moment?’

‘In Bath, unfortunately,’ responded Peter. ‘He’s tied up with some family matters. I can’t ask his assistance at the moment. Mainly because he would feel obliged to give it and I don’t think he should!’

‘Well, that’s a pity, but obviously it can’t be helped,’ said Richard thoughtfully. ‘Meanwhile, how do we start our scare campaign?’

Peter thought for a moment and then said, ‘I think, if Penny can stand it, that we launch ourselves into the autumn Little Season. We are bound to meet Jack, which will give us the chance to hint him off. Also George told me that Jack has been spreading unsavoury rumours about our marriage, so we’ll take the opportunity to squash those as well!’

Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘Of course I don’t wish Penny to be hurt, but I don’t think it will work. How are we going to know if he has been really scared off? He might just lie low for a while and then try later. You can’t spend the rest of your lives wondering if your cousin is trying to kill you!’

The others were silent. Sarah had unerringly put her finger on the weakness in their strategy. Finally Peter answered. ‘What concerns me is the threat to your sister. If Jack thinks that he can’t get to her he will try for me…’

‘No!’
interrupted Penelope, ‘You are not going to go around offering yourself as a target! I won’t have it!’

The fear in her voice surprised everyone. Peter stared at her in wonder. Did she care for him that much? He knew she was fond of him, responded to him physically, but love? The thought made him uncomfortable, ashamed that he did not love her—whatever his heart might, on occasion, tell him to the contrary.

‘Penny…’ he began.

Penelope heard the constraint in his voice and knew she had betrayed herself. She tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I’m too young to be a widow!’ There was a general laugh at this.

‘Very well,’ said Richard. ‘Let’s start by seeing if we can scare him off. I think we’ll know if he’s really scared or just lying low.’

Penelope nodded. ‘That’s a much better idea. I definitely do not fancy having any more pot-shots taken at me!’

Later, in the privacy of her bed-chamber, Penelope mentally kicked herself for being so foolish as to give Peter a clue to her feelings. Little fool! she thought. The last thing he wants is love! Sighing, she lay back against her pillows.

‘At least he has come to care for me a little,’ she whispered. His kindness and tenderness towards her were unfailing.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night he had spent in her bed. Never had she imagined that making love could possibly be so wonderful. Trembling at the memory of the fire he had ignited in her body, she wondered when he would come to her again. Briefly she considered going to him, but recoiled from the thought in fear of betraying herself any further. It was
not just a matter of pride. She knew that to declare her love would make Peter uncomfortable, it might even cause him to withdraw from her again. He had never spoken of love and she was not naive enough to think that because he had bedded her with such tender skill he must needs love her.

A gentle knock at the door from Peter’s room startled her from her thoughts.

‘Come in,’ she called, pushing back the covers to sit up.

Peter walked in, holding a candle. Shadows flickered on the walls from its dancing light. He gazed at Penelope, sitting almost lost in the shadows of her bed-hangings.

‘Peter? Is that you?’ she asked shyly, as his footsteps brought him close to the bed.

‘Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable,’ he said, looking down at her. He wondered if she had the slightest notion that Ellen always chose the most revealing nightdresses imaginable. Desire burned in his veins as his eyes rested on her, but he told himself firmly that she must be tired. Surely he could wait just one more night!

She smiled at him, saying, ‘I’m very comfortable, thank you.’ She held out her hand. Every fibre in her body cried out for him to stay, but somehow she said simply, ‘Goodnight.’

He took her hand, kissed it, and then looked into her face. His heart lurched at what he saw there: love, desire, trust. Instead of releasing her hand he sat down on the bed, put the candle on a bedside table and took her in his arms.

‘This is likely to be a very long “Goodnight”, little one,’ he whispered.

His mouth was on hers, wooing her tenderly, then more fiercely as he felt her ardent response. Her kisses inflamed him and he pushed away the covers to slide into the bed. Releasing her momentarily, he tore off his dressing gown, then lay down beside her, pulling her back into his arms. She yielded to him completely, her soft curves moulding to his hard, muscled contours. He groaned in excitement as he felt her mouth open under his like a flower. Never in all his life had he wanted a woman as he did now.

Much later, lying clasped in Peter’s arms, Penelope found to her distress that she was crying silently. She did her best to hide it, but Peter felt the tension in her body. Startled, he lifted a hand to her cheek and found it wet. ‘Why, Penny, you’re crying!’ he said in horror. ‘Sweetheart, I didn’t hurt you?’