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“Come, come,” he cried. “Now, just fly, Jenny.”
She had no idea what he meant, but her body naturally followed his lead. Something burst out of her. It rippled first along her swollen folds and into her channel, which clenched and throbbed. Then, as the sensation grew more intense, it spread down her inner thighs, and at the same time up to her breasts, and there she endured an excruciating tightness in her nipples. She could not breath. Her lungs refused to expel air. She felt dizzy, quite close to fainting, and the heat of their conjoined bodies burnt her skin like the midday sun in August.
He shuddered, stilled, flopped to one side, and the last drops of his seed spilt out of his cock and down his shaft. Most of it trickled out of her, along with her own abundant wetness. She lay, breathless, unable to countenance what had happened—this new sensation was quite addictive. She wanted to do it again and again.
For a few seconds, he seemed asleep. Slowly, he moved his arm out and hoisted her to his side until her head rested on his shoulder.
“Sleep, Jenny,” he murmured. “I can’t thank you enough for freeing me.”
Chapter 5
She was not a virgin. But neither was she accomplished. In fact, he deduced in the dark room—the fire having finally died out—that she still had an innocence that appealed. She had not baulked when he had bent her over the bed, so he surmised that was the position she had used before. She had also expected him to spill inside her. Greatly to his surprise, she had invited him to use the full might of his girth to great effect. She wanted to be pummelled and taken firmly.
The apex of the orgasm had shocked her. He had seen it clearly in her wide-eyed, dropped-jaw expression. Witnessing her first one was as good as bedding a virgin. She had nearly passed out with the intensity. He had wanted to her come again, and not just once, but many times and always in his arms. She belonged with him, and he had spoken honestly when he said she had freed him. The happiness that their lovemaking had brought him was genuine and desired, and there lay the problem—he had allowed himself to be seduced by a woman of good birth who had advantages he could never match.
He was not a gentleman and never had been. Although well-educated, his family were for generations aligned to a military life. Elias was accustomed to sleeping in icy barracks or under the canvas of a dusty hot tent, lying on mattresses stuffed with itchy straw and eating paltry meals cooked over an open fire. As a result of good fortune, his father had risen to the rank of major, and this accomplishment had enabled Elias to obtain his own commission. But really, he was no more gentry than the soldiers he commanded. He had learnt to speak stiffly, as befitted his rank, and hide his coarse ways. Only Maria, his aristocratic lover, had witnessed the different man—the real Elias.
Dona Maria was older than him and a widow. Without any compunction, she had tutored him in the arts of mastering a woman. She freely allowed him to do things that he had never imagined were possible between a man and woman. She liked his firm ways, his crudeness, and he, in turn, appreciated her submission. He had always assumed a wife yielded to her husband, but lovers? She had no reason to let him command her, but she thrived on his assured mannerisms, while also welcoming his tenderest touches. He was always generous and never denied her a climax, even if he made her wait for his choice of timing.
Jenny was of the same ilk, he concluded. She might have drawn him into the kiss under the mistletoe, begged for him to fuck her and eagerly bent and spread her legs, but she was also meek and willing. There was much they could accomplish together. Would it really only last twelve days? What if he asked for more from her? He snorted softly as she slept in his arms. He was nothing really. A nobody in a uniform who could not possibly marry a young woman who came from a well-to-do family. County folk would not take kindly to a young man with no pedigree. Unless, of course, she was not as well off as he assumed. The house—Bereworth Hall—who did it belong to? Was Mr Templeton blessed with nephews or cousins who would inherit its grandness? What then for poor Jenny?
The one thing that truly intrigued him was her reference to London and something that had happened there. Was this the reason she was no longer a virgin? If she had been deflowered, was it by choice or against her wishes? Given her keenness to bed him, he doubted the latter, which meant she had willing fucked another man, and if so, was she still harbouring feelings for this unknown man, and what if she made a habit of seeking out men then abandoning them?
Her honour was at stake if she continued this wantonness. A trail of lovers would come back to haunt her, and he, Elias Seton, already suffering the consequences of his own decisions, was probably not in a good position to handle the fallout. He should go, he decided. As soon as dawn breached the skies, he would ride home and try to put a little distance between him and Jenny until he could find out more about her past. The twelve days were a tantalising offer, something he could easily succumb to, but he was a better man than a wastrel. He had to be sure of her motives before allowing himself the privilege of fucking her again.
Chapter 6
She woke to find he was gone. Her clothes, such as they were, had been gathered up and left on a stool, and laying atop of them, a note.
Forgive me, sweet Jenny. The dawn arrived, and you slept on. I cannot stay here while your grandparents sleep so close, unaware of how deep an affection we have for each other. My needs are base and profoundly unsuitable in nature for one so beautiful as yourself. Whilst I do confess my desire to seduce you is strong and your kiss under the mistletoe weakened my resolve to keep my feelings in check, I am dishonouring your good name by continuing this liaison. Your gift is too great a price to pay for one so fortunate in upbringing. Even if it were not the case that I had been sent home in disgrace, I would still implore you to think upon your future and rescind your promise. Please accept my heartfelt wish that you should find happiness in life. My own state of affairs should not be a burden to you.
Yours,
Elias Seton
She c
rumpled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room. He repelled her because he considered himself beneath her. How ridiculous! Her own family were not of noble birth and had acquired their wealth through diligence and good fortune, but the chances of her marrying an earl or baron were a dream. Nobody would look upon the Templetons as anything other than landed merchants of humble origins, even if those origins began a century ago.
What had Elias done in Spain? Why was he adamant he was unsuitable? As for herself, if only he knew how she had allowed deceit and the interference of a selfish woman to rule her choices. If he had to know the truth, then he would see that she was equal to him and worthy of his affection. As for his base needs, as he had alluded to them last night, she rather liked them. She wanted to know more of his deeds and aspirations, and perhaps she might enjoy them, too.
She collected her ruined clothes, draped a sheet around her shoulders, and tiptoed down the corridor to the west wing, where her room was situated. She hid her soiled chemise and torn bodice under the mattress. Later she would burn them. Dressed in fresh clothing, she stoked the fire into life and hugged herself. What now? She had promised him a gift upon every night of the twelve days and if she was stuck at Bereworth and he at Dewborne, what chance did she have of completing her mission?
The white swirl of fog remained. The park and deer were invisible from her bedroom window. If she walked out into it, nobody would know where she went. The thought gave her an idea.
Over breakfast, she dropped her suggestion into the conversation at an appropriate moment.
“He left early, you said?” bellowed Susannah.
“Yes. He had to return home. He was not expecting to stay. His servants would wonder what had befallen him.” Jenny poked at the bacon rind. She was hungry but not for anything on her dish.
“I rather liked him. For a soldier.” Susannah attacked her boiled egg with gusto.
“If you don’t mind, Grandma, I thought I might take a stroll today.” She crossed her fingers under the table.
“A walk in this weather?” Susannah wrinkled her nose with distaste.
“It’s not that cold. Neither is it raining, icy, or windy. It’s just a fine mist and nothing harmful. I will walk to Bockhampton Hall to see Aunt Kitty.”
