Nothing Denied (21 page)

She relaxed at the pleasurable touch, sighing into the pil ows as the tension bled from her muscles. He leaned over her to open a drawer in the table beside his bed. She didn’t lift her head to see what he retrieved, but when he moved back over her and returned his hands to her skin, she gasped when a warm liquid touched her.

Lifting her head, she looked over her shoulder. Gareth loomed over her, his hard cock tight to his stomach and his big hands coated in some kind of wet, oily substance.

“What is that?” she whispered.

“Only olive oil,” he murmured as he glided his hands back to her bottom. “It wil help.”

She nodded, mesmerized as she watched his oily hands caress her skin. Without any friction to hinder his touch, it was a whole new experience. It was like she was underwater, and yet she was so much more sensitive to the warmth of his skin, the brush of his fingers.

“Gareth,” she choked out, clutching the pil ow above her with gripping fingers.

He didn’t answer, but instead parted her bottom again and slipped his slick fingers between the globes. With the added lubrication, her channel offered nothing to stop him and his finger glided inside of her without any trouble or the pain she had experienced before. The ful ness of his fingers was different in this forbidden place than it was when he took her pussy. Because she was untried, the sensations were far more raw and her reactions were less control ed. She fisted her hands against the pil ow and cried out softly.

“You are so tight around me,” he groaned, the tension clear in his voice. “And so hot, Beatrice. So hot. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

“I want that,
my
lord,” she said, slipping easily into her role as his supplicant. “I want to feel you within me. Please.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little wanton. But I must ready you. Relax and let me pleasure you.”

She nodded with only a brief glance at him over her shoulder. And then, perhaps for the first time, she truly gave herself over to him without question, without worry. She forgot al her fears and trusted him to save her, to take her, to make her whole with his body. He didn’t disappoint. He stroked one finger in and out, lubricating her tight channel with the oil he had spread over his fingers. When she was moaning and thrusting back in time, he added a second digit. She felt him stretching her ever so slowly, widening her in readiness for his much bigger erection.

Then a third finger joined. By this time, she was thrashing against the pil ow, lifting her hips helplessly as her empty pussy clenched and wept for him.

“Touch yourself, Beatrice,” he said, his tone harsh in the quiet room. “And you have my permission to come. Come for me, over and over.”

Greedy, Beatrice slid shaking fingers between her legs. When she cupped the mound there, she found she was already wet, ready to be taken. But Gareth would not return to her clenching body tonight. No, he was giving her a new experience.

She yelped in pleasure as she stroked her fingers over herself. With Gareth’s permission to find pleasure as often as she liked ringing in her ears, she brought herself to swift relief within a few hard strokes.

“Gareth!” she cried out as waves of pleasure washed over her. She continued to stroke herself as she came, overcome by the never-ending stretch of his fingers and the fluttering brush of her own. She felt ful and alive and so aware of her own desire that it seemed like her world revolved around it.

Just as her first orgasm faded, she felt Gareth shift. He pressed the head of his cock to the rosette of her bottom and then rested there, his breath coming hard and hot behind her.

She was weak with release, but Beatrice made herself look at him. “It feels so good,” she moaned.

“And it wil be better,” he promised, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. “Let me take you. Relax and let the pain wash away and be replaced by a sensation that wil make your pleasure al the better.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

With her permission given, Gareth pressed forward. At first he was slow, letting her body relax around him, breaching her with steady, even pressure. He felt Beatrice clench her muscles just the slightest bit and knew she was feeling the pain of the joining, even though he had readied her and lubricated her channel and his member.

“Relax,” he soothed. “Touch your clit. Feel the pleasure with the pain.”

She hesitated for a moment and he almost thought she would pul away, but instead her trembling fingers moved between her legs. She worked herself with purpose, rubbing her clit, gently fingering herself and with every stroke her bottom relaxed, letting him inch forward bit by bit until he fil ed her completely.

“God,” he moaned, “You feel so good, sweetling. So tight around me.”

She didn’t respond, but instead cried out as a second orgasm moved through her. Gareth let his head flop back. Her sheath fluttered and trembled, he felt it through the thin separation between the two channels and it massaged his cock in a most pleasurable way. Beatrice continued to writhe beneath him and Gareth drew back ever-so-gently and then thrust forward. Her cries intensified, but she didn’t tense and he realized that the thrust had only made her orgasm more powerful. Her body had accepted what he desired.

He thrust again, stil gentle, but deeper, taking and taking, loving how she clenched against him, how she continued to pleasure herself as she heaved out heavy breaths and moans. She came a third time and just as the tremors of that release faded, a fourth.

Beatrice could hardly breathe, the pleasure was so intense. She was a slave to it now, a slave to the burning heat in one entrance and the shuddering thril of the other. She wanted more, she wanted Gareth, she wanted this forever.

“I’m yours,” she cried out, her hips slamming back against his thrusts and demanding he take her harder.

“I’m yours.”

Her admission seemed to drive him over the edge. He let out an animal cry unlike anything she’d ever heard before. His thrusts, which had been gentle, turned harsh, punishing, and suddenly she felt the ripple of his release fil her as he flopped over her to cover her body with his.

They lay like that for some time and final y he sat up and gently withdrew from her sore, used bottom.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped as he reached for a cloth beside the bed and cleaned her gently. “I should not have lost control. It was ungentlemanly of me.”

She smiled as she rol ed over beneath him and looked up at him. Catching his cheeks, she drew him closer.

“I’ve
never
mistaken you for a gentleman, Gareth,”

she whispered.

A swift, sensual grin was her reward and she basked in the warmth of his amused regard. Then he pushed a bit of her hair away.

“Stil , I could have prepared you. I could have control ed myself,” he said softly.

She shrugged. “If we are to be married, then it seems we wil
each
have to trust the other. You can lose control with me just as easily as you take it from me.”

Gareth stared at her for a long moment, then his arms came around her and he drew her against his chest with a contented sigh. But as Beatrice closed her eyes and began to slip into sleep, she couldn’t help but be troubled that Gareth hadn’t responded to her statement. Although they would be married and she did trust him with her body and her future, she didn’t know i f
he
could trust her enough to give himself to her as she did to him.

And the idea that she would be the only one surrendering left her feeling empty and vulnerable for the first time since she had given herself to the man who would soon be her husband.

Chapter Fifteen

B
eatrice slipped from Gareth’s chamber and quietly shut the door behind her. A few days before she would have felt awkward leaving the room where she could be seen by any servant or even her sister or brother-inlaw, but today she felt no shame or worry. Al had been resolved between her and Gareth. There was nothing left to do but marry.

With a smile, she moved down the long stairway and the hal way to the dining room. As she neared the room, she heard sounds within the chamber. Her smile fel as she realized it was Ethan and Miranda whispering within, despite any attempts they made to muffle their voices. Though she couldn’t make out the words, from their concerned tones it was clear her family stil harbored trepidations about her relationship and future with Gareth.

She stared at the cracked door. It wasn’t that she was a coward, but last night had been so wonderful that she didn’t want to come down from the high that stil pulsed through her. She didn’t want to return to her usual role of explaining and defending herself to people who simply didn’t understand her needs. Not like Gareth did.

She gathered up the hem of her skirt and scooted past the door to the foyer, being careful to be as quiet as she could so no one would hear her from within the dining room.

In a short time, Gareth would join her downstairs and together they could face her family. With him by her side, she was certain she would find the strength to make Ethan and Miranda understand her position. Until then, she wanted to step outside and enjoy the fresh morning air. If nothing else, she hoped to prepare herself for what would surely be the final battle to come. Outside there was a warmth to the morning that made Beatrice smile as she shut the door and moved down the drive to the grassy hil s of the estate. In a few weeks, this would be her permanent home. That gave her a thril , for it was a place where her mother couldn’t control her and her sisters wouldn’t judge her. She sighed with contentment. Being here, knowing she would soon wed, was more than she had dared to hope for when she began this bargain with Gareth. Except those things were not the only ones that made her smile. In truth, the time she had spent with him had made her forget the mercenary reasons she had come here with him and surrendered herself. There was a story her father had read to her as a girl. A tale of a beauty asleep in a tower who could only be awakened by true love. At the time he read it to her, Beatrice had thought it rather sil y that the girl would need a prince to wake her. But now…

Now she understood that fanciful tale al the better. Before Gareth
she
had been asleep. It had only been half a life for her in London, a sleep existence where she only functioned, but did not thrive. She had been waiting until Gareth had chal enged her to want more, to accept more, to surrender al she had and more. Like the beauty in the story, he had awakened her, although it was with a bit more than a mere chaste kiss.

She frowned as she crested a low hil and looked out over the estate grounds. The story had said love could awaken the girl. But she and Gareth didn’t have that. Passion, yes. An understanding, most definitely. But love?

For the first time in her life, Beatrice wondered if she would miss such a feeling. Would she come to long for it over time?

No. That was sil y. She had never been bold or foolish enough to love any man. It would be unfair to demand it of Gareth now. They could have a good life together without such sentimental nonsense.

She began to turn back, hoping Gareth had already joined Miranda and Ethan for breakfast while she took her walk. Together they would face them and together they would convince them to accept the fact that they would be married. If they couldn’t…wel , the decision had been made, no matter what her family said. But as she turned, her thoughts on the future, she suddenly felt a powerful pressure at her throat. A big, muscular arm latched around her, holding her against the hard, immoveable chest of a person she couldn’t see.

“No!” she cried, but was cut off when a hand clamped a piece of cloth over her mouth. It smel ed sickly sweet as it covered her nose and fil ed her throat with cloying scent. She struggled for a moment, but then her body turned heavy. Her eyes began to droop. She fought the feeling, but it was too powerful to deny. And there was only darkness.

When Gareth entered the dining room to find only Ethan and Miranda Hamon awaiting him, he groaned inwardly. Although he and Beatrice had ful y resolved their future last night and no amount of argument from her family would change their present course, he stil did not look forward to the confrontation about to come.

“Good morning, my lord, my lady,” he said with a tight smile.

Miranda returned the expression warily. “Good morning, Lord Highcroft.”

Ethan hardly looked up from his tea except to glare at Gareth briefly. “Highcroft.”

“I trust your rooms were comfortable,” Gareth asked as he poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid.

“And your view satisfactory.”

Miranda nodded. “Yes. Your estate is very beautiful.”

Gareth inclined his head as thanks. He had purposeful y put the two in a room overlooking the finest part of his estate. He wanted them to see, however they could, that Beatrice would be comfortable here.

“Perhaps later we could al take a strol down to the lake together,” he suggested. “I’m certain my housekeeper could arrange for a luncheon for our party.”

Ethan speared him with a superior glare. “I don’t think Beatrice likes a picnic,” he murmured. “She has never been fond of the outdoors.”

Gareth arched a brow. A few days before, Beatrice had been quite
enthusiastic
about the outdoors. Just the thought made him smile.

“Perhaps she has simply never found the right outdoor activity to tempt her,” he said softly. When the two looked at him incredulously, he shrugged. “You two may not know Beatrice as wel as you believe you do.”

Miranda folded her arms, and in her eyes Gareth saw a spark rather like the one Beatrice possessed. No matter how loudly each would deny it, the sisters were more alike than they admitted.

“And
you
do, sir?” Lady Rothschild asked. “Simply because you have compromised her?”

Gareth wrinkled his brow.

“Since you bring up the indelicate subject, my lady, I am happy to reply. What is between us is much more than the mere physical. Your sister and I have formed a deeper bond than just that.”