Page 27

Her eyes widened. Then she closed them, biting her lip. Her chest heaved. He didn’t intervene until she relaxed and spoke. “A ... a s—slow game?”

“Yes, darling. We are going to tidy you up before the coach stops at the inn.” The toy lodged firmly in place, he ran his hand along the curve of her ass, then up past the tangle of her skirts to start tugging her stays and dress back into place. “The good thing about this trip is that the days are short, but the nights are very, very long.”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled. Releasing him, she adjusted her neckline, but when she tried to move off his lap, she winced and froze. “And I just ... sit? With the thing still ... inside me?” She dropped her voice to a whisper even though there was no one else to hear.

“That is your task, yes.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. Your pelisse and cloak should hide the worst of your dress’s tears until we’re in our own chamber for the night.”

“That ... was not my worry.” She grimaced and finally shifted off his lap, lowering herself ever so tentatively onto the seat, gasping again. “I know the game has just begun, my lord, but I’ve mixed feelings.”

“But you’re doing so well.” Nicholas rubbed her shoulder and resettled the blankets more securely around her before letting his hand wander along her now-covered thigh and up across her stomach over the thin wool of her dress. “You’ll just have to plead the usual overexertion of travel and retire early if you can’t take it any longer.”

“I hardly see the need for excuses,” she said, her eyes focusing on the window across from them until she took another breath. “Your sister seemed to know quite well the actual cause of my overexertion. As well as the rest of the inn...” Her gaze slowly moved down his body, pausing below his waist. “Can I ... ask you a question, Nicholas?”

“Of course.” He fixed her cloak’s fastener and withdrew, setting about straightening his own clothing.

“Does it hurt you?” Her hand brushed his thigh hesitantly as if she weren’t certain she was allowed to reach for him. They speak of pain for the woman in the marriage bed, but ... when you, um, come ... does it cause you pain? Are you sore after, too? It seems rather intense.”

He paused his ministrations to tuck a stray curl of her hair behind her ear. “Not ordinarily. But if the girl’s not wet enough, the friction does cause problems. And if a man spends himself too many times in a row, there’s a definite bite to the pleasure. But nothing to what you’ll have until your body accustoms itself to the demands of the situation.”

She blinked, her hand tightening on his leg. “The ... demands of the situation?”

“Perhaps I should say the demands of your husband?” He pulled her against his side. “I refuse to fuck you without getting you to climax, so you’ll be a little stiff the next day or two.”

“I see.” She set her cheek on his shoulder, leaning her weight on her hip. “It ... doesn’t feel like I imagined.” Slowly, she moved her hand, lifting as if to wrap her fingers around his cock. He caught her wrist, keeping her from touching him.

“What doesn’t?”

“That,” she said, without struggling in his grip. “Your ... uh...?”

Nicholas chuckled. “Cock? Manhood? Erection? There are plenty of words. Though don’t use the first in polite company. I might have to apologize for you. And reprimand you very sternly in private.”

“And when, might I ask, should I use the other two?” Her eyes turned up to meet his with an adorably playful expression. There she is.

“When you’re explaining sex to a clueless virgin. There are a shocking number about.” He kissed her wrist before relinquishing his hold on her to finish righting his clothes and tucking his dick back into his breeches. “Speaking of which. I thank you for not being the sort to cry all night.”

“But I did cry.”

“Not for long.”

Amy ducked her head, still seeming apologetic. “I dreamed of little but fleeing my father’s house for years. I’m surprised I’m not still blubbering.”

“You are allowed to, you know,” he said quietly. “If the sentiment overwhelms you, I’m not going to howl at you for it.”

“I am pleased I didn’t marry a wolf.” Amy’s small hand fluttered to his arm, her head settling more comfortably in the curve of his neck. “I’ve gone so long learning to cry alone.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll give you cause to weep at some point.” Nicholas pulled the blankets up around them and draped his arm across her shoulders. Though not if I keep acting like an addled idiot who’s just tasted his first cunt. But then it had been a very, very long time since he’d had such an amenable partner. Most times, he confined himself to the usual missionary and pretty words, with a few tricks to warm the woman’s appetites and open her purse. But Amy seemed to actively enjoy fucking and was so damned tractable when he pushed her boundaries...

He glanced down, wondering exactly where they’d be by the time they reached Clarendel Manor.

Especially considering the weather outside. Nicholas stared grimly at the curtains as he held Amy. Our midday stop may become an overnight one. Damn.

****

Amy

(The Swan Inn. November 14, 1813)

How much longer will this take?