Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (25 page)

He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘You should not have let me remain here, Genevieve.’

‘And where else should you have gone?’ She frowned.

‘Your reputation—’

‘To the devil with my reputation!’ Her eyes snapped with temper. ‘You have been too ill to be moved anywhere, nor would I have allowed it. Besides, no one knows of your presence here but your two friends, your godfather and my own household servants. And I do not believe that any one of them would breathe a word of it to anyone else.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Benedict conceded slowly. ‘But—’

‘Perhaps we should wait until you are feeling better before you commence once again lecturing me as to the wisdom or otherwise of my actions?’ Genevieve reasoned drily. ‘For now I shall see to feeding you the broth and pudding.’

‘I am perfectly capable of feeding myself—’ He broke off with a groan as the pain lanced through his side as he attempted to sit up, causing him to sink back weakly on to the pillows.

‘Are you …?’ She arched a pointed brow as she moved forwards to place a napkin across his chest before turning to pick up the bowl of broth.

Attempting to sit up had shown Benedict that he wore nothing on his chest but a bandage swathed about his lower torso, and the feel of the bedsheets now against his bare thighs and legs told him that he wore nothing beneath those sheets either. ‘I trust you have not taken advantage of me as I slept, Genevieve?’ He arched one mocking brow.

‘I see that your sense of humour is as dry and wicked as it ever was.’ She eyed him in exasperation.

‘Did you ever doubt that it would be?’

‘I hoped not,’ she assured huskily. ‘And the reason you are without a nightshirt is because it became too difficult to continually change them as the fever raged.’

‘Did you change them your—? Hmm,’ Benedict groaned his approval as Genevieve took advantage of his open mouth to spoon in the broth; after days of taking no sustenance at all it tasted as rich and nourishing as ambrosia! ‘I was only going to enquire as to whether you were the one who undress—umph.’ Another spoonful of the broth appeared in his mouth. ‘You will soon run out of broth and pudding—then what shall you do to silence me?’ He eyed her teasingly.

In truth, Genevieve was so relieved to have Benedict returned to her—wicked humour or otherwise—that it was difficult for her to stop herself from grinning. As it was, she smiled down at him mischievously. ‘I thought I might take my bath before the fire over there and bedevil you in that way?’

Benedict gave a low groan. ‘You are like to give me another fever!’

She chuckled softly. ‘Then no doubt, if you are feeling strong enough, I shall find some way in which to ease it.’

Benedict eyed her speculatively. ‘I will make sure that I am!’

Genevieve made no answer as her smile became enigmatic. These days and nights of sitting beside Benedict, unsure if he would ever wake up again and look at her with those beautiful and sensual dark eyes, had succeeded in showing Genevieve the depth of feelings she had for him.

She was in love with him.

Deeply.

Irrevocably.

And with the realisation of that love Genevieve’s past had simply melted away, those nightmare years of being Josiah’s wife no longer of any relevance, to a degree that all she wished for now was to have Benedict returned to her so that she might be with him, in every way, for as often and long as he wished her to remain with him.

Nothing else mattered to her now. Not the past. Certainly not the future. Here and now was all that mattered. With Benedict …

‘I was unsure as to whether you were being serious …’ Benedict could not take his eyes off Genevieve as she began to remove her clothes in readiness for climbing into the bathtub
where a footman had placed it in front of the fire, before Jenkins returned to supervise several maids as they poured in the steaming hot water in readiness for Genevieve’s bath.

Maids who had sent Benedict curious and sideways glances as he lay in their mistress’s bed, before Jenkins had ushered them from the bedchamber and closed the door firmly behind them.

At which time Genevieve had risen gracefully to her feet, letting down her hair and stepping out of her slippers, before she began to unbutton and remove her gown.

She wore only her chemise now as she glanced across at him between thick dark lashes, her hair a silky red-gold curtain about the slenderness of her shoulders. ‘You would rather I bathed elsewhere?’

‘Not in the least.’ Benedict eased himself up slightly and made himself comfortable against the half-dozen or so pillows piled behind him, the broth and pudding having surprisingly gone a long way to restoring much of his strength. Certainly enough that he was thoroughly enjoying watching Genevieve prepare for her bath!

She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘In that case I shall continue to undress …’

That Benedict found it difficult to breathe, as Genevieve slipped the straps of her chemise down her arms before allowing it to fall on to the carpet at her feet, owed very little to his injury and all to the fact that she was now completely naked apart from delicate white stockings held in place with silky white garters adorned with tiny blue bows.

Her red-gold hair cascaded in wild abandon about her shoulders and the firmness of her uptilting breasts, tipped by rosy-red nipples that pouted invitingly through those silky tresses. Her waist was slender, hips softly curvaceous, red-gold curls at their apex.

Benedict’s breathing became even more laboured as she perched facing him on the edge of the stool before the dressing table, allowing him glimpses of her most intimate part as she raised first one leg and then the other as she slowly removed her garters and stockings before once again standing up.

The next hour proved to be equally as tortuous for Benedict—and arousing!—as Genevieve’s breasts swayed temptingly as she stepped slowly into the bathtub before sitting down facing him, the water lapping against those berry-red nipples as she slowly washed
her hair before lathering each and every inch of her body with perfumed soap. Her shoulders and arms, her breasts, first one leg and then the other, as she lathered the soap along their length before she stood up to turn her attention to between her silky thighs.

‘I believe I am in danger of suffering a relapse!’ Benedict groaned, his cock hard and aching as he watched her soapy fingers sweep down and then dip into those delicate folds.

Genevieve’s eyes were deeply blue and sultry as she stood in the bathtub, looking across at him between the darkness of her lashes. ‘Shall I call for the doctor?’

‘I believe the attentions of my nurse might be more beneficial to my present ailment,’ he assured gruffly.

‘Indeed …?’ She arched her brows as she stepped out of the tub to wrap the dampness of her hair in a towel before picking up another to begin dabbing delicately at the moisture coating her breasts.

‘Genevieve …!’ The evidence of the fierceness of Benedict’s erection now tented the bedclothes.

Still she made no move to come to him. ‘I am not sure you are well enough as yet for those sort of attentions.’ She turned away from
him slightly as she continued to dry her arms, revealing the slender slope of her back and the delicate curve of her bottom.

A bottom Benedict longed to sink his teeth into!

The teeth he now gritted. ‘I believe, if I may remain on my back, that I am more than well enough!’ He threw off the weight of the bedcovers, his cock so engorged and hard it now throbbed more painfully than the wound in his side.

‘That sounds … interesting.’ She removed the towel from about the dampness of her hair before dropping both towels on the carpet and slowly walking towards him, Aphrodite incarnate as her sultry gaze fixed upon his pulsing arousal, her breasts high and nipples pouting invitingly, those silky red curls still damp between her thighs as she climbed on to the bed before moving to straddle his thighs with her own. ‘Mmm, very interesting,’ she murmured huskily as her fingers caressed the pulsing length of him before she slowly lowered her head so that Benedict might draw her down even further as he finally captured her lips with his own.

Genevieve had believed she might never be kissed by Benedict again, might never be
with him like this again, and channelled all of that worry and fear into the intensity of the kiss they now shared, the depth of the desire she felt to be one with him. A desire Benedict more than shared if the throb of his erection nudging insistently between her thighs was any indication.

She briefly raised her mouth from his to look down at him searchingly. ‘You are sure this will not hurt you?’ The darkness of his gaze looked feverish and the harsh planes of his cheeks were flushed.

‘I was never more sure of anything in my life,’ he assured her gruffly, forcefully, even as his hands on her hips raised her in readiness over his straining erection.

Genevieve’s gaze deliberately held his as she reached down between them, her fingers encircling that silken hardness as she guided him between her moist and swollen lips, her groan one of pleasure as she felt that hardness gliding smoothly into her, one slow inch at a time, filling her, stretching her with an intensity of pleasure she had never imagined existed.

‘I am not hurting you …?’ Benedict looked up at her concernedly.

She laughed exultantly. ‘Not in the least!’
To prove the truth of her words she deliberately thrust her hips down, taking all of him inside her, his shaft so long and so thick that it claimed her so completely and felt as if he touched her womb. ‘It feels wonderful, Benedict,’ she assured breathlessly. ‘It is still not causing you discomfort …?’ She hesitated as she looked down at him anxiously, sure that she would die if he were to say yes and they had to stop.

‘Not in the least,’ he echoed her own words even as his hands moved to grasp her hips once again and he began to guide her up the length of his shaft before slowly easing her down again, setting a rhythm that was pleasurable to them both.

And causing Genevieve to gasp anew at the intensity of that pleasure. ‘It feels so wonderful, Benedict! So gloriously wonderful!’ Her back arched as she began to move faster, harder into the rhythm of those thrusts, the pleasure between her thighs, the heat, becoming deeper, higher, with each pulsing thrust of Benedict’s shaft. ‘I—Benedict, I—’ She broke off to let out a keening cry as Benedict latched on to one of her roused nipples as her breasts bobbed in front of him, suckling her deeply into the warmth of his mouth, and sending her
over the edge of that pleasure in a release so deep and intense Genevieve thought she might faint from the ecstasy that now so completely overwhelmed her.

‘Again!’ Benedict groaned harshly just minutes later, nothing else mattering, existing, as he thrust deeply up and into Genevieve as his own release became imminent amidst the continued clenching and unclenching of her inner muscles. ‘God …!’ he cried out as that release claimed him with a fierceness he had never experienced before, pumping hotly, deeply inside her as her second climax prolonged and deepened their pleasure to the point that Benedict believed she might be an angel after all, that he must have died and gone to heaven …

‘I
am sorry for disturbing you, your Grace.’ Jenkins sounded slightly put out himself some ten or fifteen minutes later as he spoke to them from the hallway outside the closed and locked door to Genevieve’s bedchamber. ‘But his lordship’s godfather, the Earl of Dartmouth, is here and is most insistent upon seeing him.’

‘Damn it to hell!’ Benedict muttered as Genevieve began to stir in his arms as she lay snuggled next to his uninjured side.

‘Just a moment, Jenkins!’ she called out huskily as she glanced up at Benedict teasingly. ‘Lord Cargill only wishes to assure himself of your well-being, I am sure.’

Benedict scowled. ‘Then he should have
waited until morning and called at a decent time. Unless, of course,’ he added slowly, ‘he has urgent news regarding the whereabouts of the two servants from my parents’ estate.’

Genevieve’s eyes widened. ‘You spoke with Lord Cargill on the subject?’

‘Six days ago, before I visited William Forster,’ Benedict answered, still distractedly.

‘I realise that Lord Cargill is your godfather, but I had not realised your friendship was such a close one that you confided such personal matters to him.’ She looked at him expectantly.

‘He is so much more than that, love.’ Benedict gave a rueful grimace. ‘But until I have spoken to Lord Cargill, and received his permission, I am afraid I am unable confide any more of that situation to you.’

‘That all sounds very mysterious …’

He made a face. ‘Tedious, as it happens, love, very tedious. But, nevertheless, it is not just my secret to tell.’

‘Then I will ask no more on the subject,’ she assured briskly.

‘Would you mind very much, love, if Jenkins were to bring my godfather up here?’ Benedict gave a self-derisive grimace as he attempted to sit up and failed. ‘I am afraid
our lovemaking has fatigued me more than I had thought.’

‘Of course you must speak to him here.’ Genevieve threw back the bedcovers before standing up to collect and pull on her robe. ‘I will instruct Jenkins to bring him up to you immediately and then go through to my adjoining dressing room.’

Benedict gave her a lazy smile. ‘Have I remarked recently on what a beautiful woman you are?’

Genevieve chuckled softly as she bent to brush her lips lightly against his. ‘You may have mentioned it once or twice this evening.’

‘Only once or twice?’ He gave a shake of his head. ‘Then I shall tell you so again, or more preferably show you, as soon as Dartmouth has departed,’ he promised huskily.

Genevieve touched his cheek lightly. ‘I believe you may already have exerted yourself enough for one evening, Benedict.’

He reached up to clasp her hand in his, the darkness of his gaze compelling as he looked up at her. ‘We have much to talk about, to discuss, Genevieve, and I promise we will do so as soon as my godfather has gone.’

‘I believe I should like that,’ she assured him.