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She snuggled into the crook of his arm, and the gentle movement stirred Elias.
“You cried out in your sleep,” she told him—a solitary noise that had awoken her in the middle of the night.
“I’m sorry. I sometimes have bad dreams.”
He swung her up onto his naked body, and she lay on top of him, chest to chest with her chin resting on her folded arms, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her like gentle waves.
“Tell me why you are troubled,” she said.
He closed his eyes and let the silence stretch on before he spoke again. “I hate the army. The horses, the shit. The herding of men from one place to another to face their death. But family honour kept me bound to serve. I joined the light dragoons when I was eighteen and at the time, the navy was bearing the brunt of the war. After the Spanish rose up against the French, they became are allies and I was sent to the peninsula with my regiment.”
“It must have been exciting, though. Being in another country.”
He grimaced. “Hot and dusty. We engaged the French to the south and west of Madrid at the end of July. The regiment lacked discipline and unlike the Hussars, who rode side by side, my dragoons rode off wildly into the enemy lines. I tried to summon them back, but the captain was determined to keep going. So, I kept a few riders back at the rear. The vanguard suffered badly and their horses went lame in the charge — the ravine was treacherous — many men were killed or captured.”
“How awful.”
“I followed in and helped cut the remaining out and away from the French Infantry. It was too late over a hundred of them.” He puffed out his lips and shook his head. “The battle might seemed to be a victory for the British if only because the French withdrew in the darkness of the night.”
“And that’s what gives you bad dreams — this charge?”
“Not just that fateful charge. The battlefield caught fire with the heat of the shot and burnt many men. It is their screams I remember in my sleep.”
Jenny could not imagine the terrible scene of a battlefield. How brave Elias must have been to charge his horse at the enemy without knowing what awaited him. “Why were you sent back in disgrace?”
“I should have followed my captain and not held back. I was saved from court martial because Sir Arthur knows my father and allowed me to speak privately to him. I explained how reckless and undisciplined the men had been. He praised me in private for my actions in rescuing many of them from the rear. However, in public, he had to sanction me for failing to take orders. I was sent back to England.”
“And to me.” She smiled. “We both have been blamed for things that were not our fault. I hope my days with you have given you much relief from your nightmares.”
He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her lips. “My sweet Jenny. You have done far more than that and you know that.”
What next, she wanted to ask him. Where did they go after the Christmas festivities had ended? Tomorrow would be New Year’s Eve and then only five more days of his company. She had to go home eventually, her ruse could not last forever. What Elias needed was time to decide whether their future lay together or apart.
Sensing her lust return and the wetness that came with it, she rocked against him, straddling her legs on either side of his hips. His cock stiffened — she loved the way the skin rippled and the veins filled with hot blood. He grasped her waist, seemingly mesmerised by her bouncing breasts. She slotted his erection between her wet folds and sinking lower, she enveloped his manhood with an expertise that had developed naturally over the last few nights. She bucked and rode him, keeping her impending orgasm on the cusp so that might signal his readiness to come. The look of bliss of his face reminded her why she was there with him and what joy their coupling brought to both of them. She felt his palms glide down her back and under her buttocks. He squeezed the amble flesh with his strong fingers and helped support her as she quickened her pace.
“Don’t stop,” he cried out. “Fuck, not yet, not yet.”
She pressed her hands against his chest and forced her back straight, allowing him to rise higher inside her. He bucked her upwards one more time, and she landed just as he came, the essence of him spilling out. He groaned. With him complete, she followed with her own orgasm, and the spasms that erupted from her clitoris spiralled into every tight muscle until the cramps were nearly unbearable. The pain of that sweet orgasm was what she craved—she could not understand why, only that without it, she felt bereft. There would be no tears, no remorse for what they did in that room. Wicked things, many would say, but she no longer cared about good behaviour and deportment.
Flopping onto his chest once more, she lay on him, listening to his soft breathing until he fell back asleep. She could only wait and hope their happiness was undisturbed by those who liked to meddle.
Chapter 11
They celebrated New Year’s Eve with a toast in the kitchen with the servants. The small gathering was brief and jovial. Elias had ceased barking at them now that he better understood their issues and was endeavouring to resolve them while he lived at Dewborne.
Having told Jenny what had happened in Spain at Talavera, he felt surprisingly relieved that she knew and he no longer had to hide his dislike of army life. His disgrace was not a problem in her eyes, and equally, he had accepted her misfortunes without judgement. They made good partners, and in their short time together, he believed she had gone beyond a simple promise. She had given him her heart as well as her body, and the whispers of love were genuine from him, too. So what next?
If he was to have any success at marrying her, he needed her grandparents’ permission. However, he had nothing to offer her other than long absences and the income of a junior officer. It was not enough.
By the time the Twelve Days of Christmas had come to pass, he decided there was only one cause of action. After the twelfth night, their last night of passionate sex, he would take her back to Bereworth Hall and ask permission to court her properly in the hope that they might let her go and allow her to join him in wedlock. What he lacked was optimism.
The morning of the fifth day of January, the sun rose and the fog finally dispersed. The warming sun bathed the interior of the house, and the blue sky was as vivid as the ones he had seen on the plains of Spain. Jenny was merry, singing to herself whilst she bathed and dressed, then she went to find food for them.
“Cook has baked a Twelfth Night cake,” she declared.
“It’s a little early for cake, isn’t?”
“My dear, it is nearly afternoon already. We slept late. Again.” She laughed.
