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Authors: Olivia Drake

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BOOK: Stroke of Midnight
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“An excellent decision, my dear. I’ll collect the pair from you soon.” Lady Milford’s enigmatic smile deepened. “One never knows when there might be another deserving young lady in want of good luck.”

 

Chapter 22

Laura sat propped against a nest of feather pillows in the four-poster bed with its hangings of seafoam-green silk. A low fire burned on the hearth. On either side of the alabaster mantelpiece, a silver branch of candles cast a soft glow over the spacious chamber with its luxurious furnishings.

She had readied herself in record time. Preparing for bed had been effortless with someone there to untie the corset strings, to fold the petticoats and stockings, to fetch warm water for washing, to braid her hair. Winifred had been respectful and efficient, and so deferential that it had made Laura very aware of the elevation in her status.

At any other time, she would have attempted to befriend the woman. Kindness fostered loyalty in a servant, she knew. But tonight her thoughts had been too distracted for conversation. She’d swiftly donned her filmy nightdress and dismissed the maid.

Anticipation nibbled at her composure. The mattress was cushiony, the linens soft. But she felt no inclination to relax and close her eyes. Instead, her gaze strayed to the connecting door in the corner. That had to be the entry to the earl’s suite of rooms.

Where
was
Alex? When they’d parted more than half an hour ago, he had been heading down to the library with his cousin Lewis to lend the man a book on his way out.

Were they still there talking?

With a sigh, Laura unbraided her long hair, deciding to leave it loose. If only
she
had thought to fetch a book, it would have kept her mind occupied. But she could hardly wander downstairs now in her nightclothes. And there was nothing whatsoever to be read in this pristine room.

That would have to change in the future—though making such a resolve didn’t help her in the present.

Seeking a distraction, she inspected the white coverlet with its elaborate pattern of embroidered pink roses and green leaves. Had the previous countess done the needlework? Lady Josephine had described Alex’s mother, Blanche, as flighty and whimsical. Would Blanche have bent over a tambour frame for hours on end? Laura knew too little about the woman to be certain.

But she didn’t intend for such tame pursuits to be
her
fate. She liked to be active, to stay busy and involved, not to be left to sit … and wait.

Temporarily abandoning her plan to be ensconced in bed when Alex arrived, Laura threw back the covers. The carpet felt plush against her bare feet as she padded to a bank of pale green draperies. Parting them, she peeked out an open window that overlooked the darkened garden at the back of the house. The cobalt blue of twilight lingered on the horizon, and pinpricks of light shone in neighboring residences.

At this very moment, members of the ton would be dressing for balls and parties, which often didn’t begin until ten o’clock. How novel to think that while the nobility danced the night away—and gossiped about the scandalous marriage of the Earl of Copley to the notorious Miss Falkner—she and Alex would be lying in each other’s arms, engaged in unknown intimacies.

Her thoughts dwelled on the consummation. She had a general notion of what went on between husband and wife, though not the specifics, and she craved to learn all of it. Curiosity caused a quickening of her blood, stirring an impatience that she found difficult to assuage.

Where is my husband?

Laura paced to a dainty writing desk beside the fireplace and seated herself on a straight-backed chair. The cherrywood surface gleamed in the candlelight. If she could locate the proper supplies, she might pass the time by sketching.

Opening the single drawer, Laura felt like a thief rifling through someone else’s possessions. She had to remind herself that every item in this chamber now belonged to her—even though her sense of decorum hadn’t quite accepted the reality of that yet.

Inside the shallow drawer lay a tidy stack of notepaper embossed with the Copley crest. She also discovered sealing wax, a silver ink pot, and an assortment of quill pens. Not seeing a pencil, she slipped her hand into the very back of the drawer in case one might have rolled out of sight.

Instead of a cylindrical writing implement, however, her fingers encountered a small, oval object. She brought it out, tilted the flat surface to the candlelight, and saw to her surprise that it was a miniature. The protective glass had been shattered, with several cracks directly over the diminutive painting.

Despite the fractures, she could discern the image of an older gentleman with dour features, a strong jaw, and dark eyes and hair. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Alex.

Was this the old earl, Alex’s late father? Surely it had to be.

But why was the glass broken? Had his mother dropped the miniature, then slipped it into the drawer to be repaired later? Or had she smashed it in a rage and hidden the damage from sight?

Lady Josephine had said that his parents had often fought.
It was quite shocking the way the two of them would scream at each other! I daresay poor Alexander witnessed far too many quarrels in his time …

A door clicked open at the other end of the bedchamber. Startled, Laura guiltily dropped the miniature back in its place, shut the drawer, and turned on the chair to peer over her shoulder.

Alex strolled into the bedchamber.

With a wild leap, her heart set off racing. He had changed out of his wedding clothes into a loose linen shirt over a pair of breeches. His feet were bare, and she had the sudden fantasy of him climbing the rigging of a pirate ship with a knife clenched in his teeth.

He came halfway into the room and stopped, his gaze intent on her. “Pray forgive the delay,” he said in his usual tone of dry wit. “I had trouble pushing Lewis out the door. Once my cousin starts jabbering about military history, it’s nearly impossible to…”

His words petered out as Laura stood up from the chair and took a few steps toward him. His gaze dropped to her nightdress. She wore nothing underneath it. And she realized belatedly that the backlight of the fire through the gossamer fabric must be giving him a spectacular view of her curves.

A blush seared her from head to toe. If only she’d waited in bed like a good wife. With the covers drawn to her chin. Then again, she
liked
the entranced look on his face. She liked it enormously.

Those thoughts flitted through her mind in swift succession. Since Alex appeared too transfixed to move, Laura felt a compulsion to be bold. And why not? They were husband and wife now.

She walked forward with a deliberate sway to her hips. “Military history, you say? Do you truly find that more interesting than your bride?”

“No! I only thought you needed time … to do whatever women need to do.”

Reaching him, she flattened her palms on the wall of his chest. The heat of his skin penetrated the thin fabric of his shirt. In a soft, throaty voice, she said, “What I need, Alex, is
you
. Only you. And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

To her delight, she found herself instantly caught up in his arms, clasped in a hard embrace, his mouth crushing hers. He kissed her with a ferocity that left no doubt as to his desire for her. She returned his passion with her own wholehearted participation. All the while, his hands traversed up and down her body, cupping her bottom and holding her so close that she could not fail to notice the hardness at his loins. Obeying instinct, she tilted her hips, the better to satisfy her illicit interest.

A groan emanated from deep in his throat. Alex drew back slightly, his breathing rough as he nuzzled her hair. Against her breasts, she felt the heavy pounding of his heartbeat. “Enough,” he muttered. “There’s no need to rush. We have all night.”

With that, he caught her up into his arms and she clung to him, inhaling the allure of his spicy scent. He carried her to an overstuffed chair by the hearth, where he sat down and settled her in his lap.

Laura melted into the solid crook of his arm. She loved being cuddled against his muscled body, yet his action surprised her. “Not … the bed?”

“In a little while,” he said, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I’ve waited too long to hold you like this. I won’t allow matters to be concluded too swiftly.”

“But if we desire each other…”

“Then we should take our time to hone our pleasure. Trust me, Laura. I know exactly what you want.”

For once, his arrogant manner didn’t irk her. She
did
trust him—in this at least—and she craved to go wherever he led her. Catching hold of his hand, she pressed a kiss in his palm. “Then pray do not delay.”

Alex chuckled. “As you wish, my lady.”

He brushed his lips over hers in teasing kisses that made her become as pliant as clay, ready to be molded by his expert mouth and hands. The heat in his dark eyes sent shivers over her skin. Plucking open the row of dainty pearl buttons down the front of her bodice, he reached inside to weigh the globe of one breast in the palm of his hand. The lazy stroking of his thumb over the tip sent ribbons of pleasure unfurling downward to her inmost depths.

A sigh eased from her lips. “Oh, Alex, that
is
what I want.”

He merely smiled, then lowered his head to take her into his mouth. As she gasped in appreciative surprise, he suckled her, unleashing a chaos of new sensations. He turned his attention to her other breast, and Laura could only look down in a blissful bemusement at his head, bent over her open bodice while he feasted on her bare bosom. In all her secret fantasies of lovemaking, never had she expected him to do such divine things with his tongue and mouth.

Her fingers threaded into the thick silk of his hair to encourage him. How strange to think that only a fortnight ago, she had despised this man with all her heart and soul. She had relegated their youthful romance to the ash heap of history. Yet now she was his wife and she desired him with a desperation that could only be termed unladylike.

At last he brought up his head to hers again, awarding her another deep kiss that ended with a gentle nip of his teeth on her lower lip. When he tugged at the hem of her nightdress, she mindlessly lifted herself to let him pull the garment up to her waist, leaving her privates hidden beneath a pool of draping. Her breathing had become quick and shallow. The smoothness of his breeches beneath her bare legs felt wickedly wonderful. So did the movement of his hand as it slipped up her thigh and delved beneath the fabric to idly caress her hip.

A faint smile quirked his lips. “Might I say, Countess, the gown is perfect. The sight of you standing there stunned me … I’m
still
stunned by your beauty.”

It had taken a good deal of convincing by Violet to talk Laura into the purchase. But now that she could see the admiration on his face, she understood the genius of wearing such a revealing garment. It gave a wife power over her husband.

Laura caressed his cheek. “I’d hoped it would please you. Though I feared it might be
too
risqué.”

“You can never be too risqué—so long as you’re with
me
.” He paused, his brooding gaze flicking down to her bared breasts. “And let it be known, I intend to make certain that you never desire any other man.”

His possessiveness both thrilled and intrigued her. He must still be irked over that legal agreement she had made him sign. Didn’t he realize that she had only been trying to protect herself in case
he
lost interest in
her
?

Then all rational thought fled her mind as he shifted his hand to the apex of her thighs and began to caress her there. His finger glided into the dampness of her most secret folds, rubbing lightly and igniting a deep pulse beat that spread fire through her insides. Dizzy with the onrush of desire, Laura clutched at his arms for support. “Oh, heavens … what are you…?”

He nuzzled her neck. “Shh, my darling. Just let yourself enjoy it.”

Alex continued his slow exploration, and she melted into him, giving herself up to the tempting sensations he provoked in her. It truly
was
the most enticing turmoil she had ever experienced. As her passion mounted, she arched against his hand in an attempt to find surcease from the maddening rise of excitement. Time ceased to exist, and a craving built in her for something she couldn’t name. She moaned, her hips moving, seeking, as he plied her with ever-deepening strokes. At last his finger slipped inside her in a shockingly intimate caress, and she tumbled into waves of the most powerful pleasure of her life.

Lying against him in the aftermath, limp and blissful, Laura felt herself lifted in his arms as he carried her to the bed. The coolness of the sheets against her back restored a modicum of awareness to her, though she could only smile at him in an incoherent daze.

Alex stood beside the bed and stripped off his linen shirt. In the candlelight, he had the perfect physique of a deity, his shoulders broad, his chest lightly dusted with black hair, his waist firm and narrow. The rippling muscles across his abdomen fascinated her, as did the flat nipples that resembled ancient bronze coins.

Rolling onto her side, Laura propped herself up on her elbow and watched him unbutton his breeches. “You are truly magnificent,” she murmured, voicing the first lucid thought that entered her mind. “I would very much like to sketch you…”

The words died in her throat as he peeled down his trousers and kicked them aside. He wore nothing beneath, and the sight of his jutting member rendered her speechless. She knew the male anatomy from her study of Greek and Roman statuary in books. But those elegant illustrations had not prepared her for the fullness of him.

A smirk on his lips, Alex stood there in all his naked glory. Then he strutted the few steps toward her and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He leaned down to brush a kiss over her mouth. “Magnificent, hmm?”

BOOK: Stroke of Midnight
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