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“There you are.”
With a tired sigh, Letty got to her feet. “Might as well tell her now so that we can try on thetrousseau.”
Mrs. Haversham clapped her hands. “It’s all so exciting, is it not?”
Letty smiled.
It would be if my husband-to-be did not have a death sentence hanging over his head.
* * *
Wellington had finally gone back to the barracks even though he’d left several of his men at the manor, appropriately disguised as new footmen, to keep an eye on Bertram. The week had been quiet and Bertram wondered if perhaps the kidnappers were waiting on his wedding. It was to be a small affair with only members of the household in attendance. Neither he nor Letty had much family to speak of. Bertram had hoped to locate Letty’s mother before the ceremony but so far, he was having no luck.
He was not too cut up about the size of the wedding and he knew Letty was no ordinary bride who wanted frills and crowds to watch her triumph as she walked down the aisle. Still, he wanted to make it special. So he went to the gardeners and requested that they fill the chapel with flowers from the garden and asked the cook to make sure to include French dishes for the wedding breakfast.
He was nervous but excited. The thought of his wedding night kept him awake at night, made him hard, needing and filled with desire. It was a fight every day not to just get up and go to her chambers, empty himself inside of her.
He avoided her as much as possible but was not surprised when she cornered him in the library the day before the wedding.
“Your Grace, I feel as if I have not seen you all week.”
He closed the book he’d been pretending to read, turned to face her with a pained smile. “There has been much to do this week.”
“Indeed.” She took a step towards him and he almost took a step back. “But you have not even had a single meal with me. George and I miss you.”
Bertram swallowed hard, “I miss you as well. I look forward to the conclusion of these festivities so that we can be together at last. However, for now…”
She took another step closer. “Well, you do not seem to be busy now. Perhaps we can sit quietly together and you can tell me about your week. Is that not what a wife is for?”
Among other things.
Bertram looked out of the window, not really able to say anything at the moment. She took another step closer.
“Bertram?”
Suddenly he could feel her all down his length, her warmth and softness no more than a hair’s breadth away from him. He exhaled, hands reaching for her even before he had made a decision, his lips pressing down hard on hers. Instead of tearing away from him like any sensible lady would, she wound her arms around his neck and hung on, parting her lips to let him in.
His hands, like bands around her waist, cinched her tight against him. He knew that she could feel his hardness against her thigh. Her breasts, like two ripe mangoes, poked against his hard chest, driving him over the edge.
“Please, let me taste you.” He murmured, picking her up and dropping her unceremoniously on the leather chesterfield couch. He pushed at her muslin gown, exposing her long pale legs to his gaze before he began to kiss along her inner thigh.
She gasped, stiffened, her thighs trembling. He licked, and suckled her flesh before plunging his mouth between her legs and tasting her sweet nectar at last. She made a shocked sound, throwing her head back, her legs twisting around his neck.
“What are you doing to me?”
He was too engrossed to answer but he felt she was clever enough to come to the right conclusion. He redoubled his efforts to suck all the juice from her, the rapidly swelling nub his tongue was rubbing against giving him certainty that he was indeed giving her a great deal of pressure.
He snaked his hand between her thighs, using the knuckle of his thumb to add pressure to the spot. Letty made increasing desperate sounds, mewling and pleading and he reveled in it.
I cannot wait to make you all mine.
He drew back, watching her face as he used his hands to bring her to repletion. She lay spread-eagle before him, breathing fast, blinking as if flummoxed.
“Is that…? Did we…?” She looked around, her face adorably flushed before meeting his eyes. Her own slid downwards to eye the tent in his breeches.
“We didn’t…?”
He huffed in amusement. “Is there something you need to ask me, Miss Strange?”
