The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (37 page)

Suddenly, as if a dam broke within him, he crushed her into his arms. “Oh, God, Phoebe, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He started sobbing. She cried softly and held him in her arms. Marcus told her how close he and Arthur had been until he’d been sent away. How guilty he felt that he’d not been there for his brother after the death of his wife and when he first became ill. “Phoebe, I can never lose you.”

Ravenously, Marcus took her lips. Their first mating was hard and fast as Marcus poured his grief and fear into her, and she welcomed him into her body, soothing him with her love.

She must have slept because she came awake to his kisses. Wrapping her legs around him, she urged him inside, then deeper still, wanting him to claim her more fully. Phoebe gave herself up to the waves of pleasure he pressed upon her, and she took, bursting into a wild eruption of pleasure.

“Phoebe, my love, I need more,” Marcus whispered, as he rolled her over onto her stomach.

Placing a pillow underneath her hips, he entered her again, drawing her to him.

She’d thought he could not be more deeply in her, but she was wrong. It was as if he was truly one with her. The sensual tension rose higher with each long, deep thrust until her contractions became uncontrollable and she fractured with delight, bringing him with her.

She knew, at that moment, she loved him with her whole heart. She could even, she thought, accept his possessiveness as an extension of his love, within reason.

Marcus rose and lit some candles. He stared down at the sleeping form of his wife, barely covered by a sheet, her hair wild and spread out over the pillows. God he loved her. She’d known just what to do to soothe him last night.

After grabbing a candle, he walked into the adjoining parlor where he found wine, lemonade, and various offerings of food left for them. He poured a glass of wine, tossing it off before taking the tray to her.

Phoebe stretched and sat up.

He set the platter on a small table next to her. “Look what they brought us.”

Reaching out, she took one of the small sandwiches.

“Would you like lemonade or wine?” he asked.

Phoebe chewed and swallowed. “Lemonade, please. What time is it?”

Marcus glanced out the window. “Dark.”

She shook her head, but grinned. “Indeed, I hadn’t noticed. When do we leave for Newhaven?”

Smiling roguishly, Marcus’s gaze roved her body. “Don’t you remember? Not until after luncheon. We may
sleep
as long as we like.”

Phoebe picked up her glass and drank deeply. “Umm, yes,
sleep
is what I need.”

Marcus took the goblet from her, setting it on the tray. “You, my lady, have become a wanton.”

Glancing up at him, Phoebe stretched out on the bed and wiggled. “How does it feel to have your very own wanton?”

He groaned. Abandoning the food and drink, he slid in next to her. “My very own? Hmm.”

Meeting his gaze, Phoebe spread her palms over his chest. “Your very own. Come to me, my lord.”

He gave thanks that she approached this part of their life with the same passion as she had for the rest of it. Especially now, when he needed her so much.

Phoebe awoke as dawn lit the room with a soft glow. She was cuddled into Marcus, her back to his chest, his arm holding her to him. She eased slowly and quietly away from the bed to slip behind the screen.

Phoebe stood next to the bed, devouring the last of the sandwiches, and glanced down at him. He was beautiful. He was long, lean lines and broad shoulders. The dark hair on his chest, that she loved to run her fingers through, narrowed to a thin line over his taut stomach, then down to the nest of curls between his legs and his virile member, as her sisters had called it. Phoebe licked her lips. Even in repose, his seemed large, though she had nothing with which to compare. It twitched and lengthened.

Lowering herself back onto the bed, she studied his member more closely, taking it in her hand and running her fingers over the soft skin. It was fascinating how it grew faster.

Phoebe glanced up to see Marcus grinning at her. “Do you plan to do anything with my shaft, or are you satisfied to just hold it?”

Shaft, another word for it. She wondered how many more words there were for it. “I don’t know. It is amazing how it responds to my touch.”

He grunted. “
It
has been responding to you since I first saw you.”

Phoebe looked at his fully hardened shaft. “Really?”

“Really.” He sat up and lifted her over him.

His shaft stood up against her stomach. Phoebe caressed it again.

His muscles clenched, and she wondered how long he’d allow her to explore. “I know it is also called a virile member. How many other names are there for it?”

A deep groan escaped him. “Phoebe, you’re going to be the death of me. It is also called a sword, and there are several words I will not tell you.”

She frowned slightly. “Are they vulgar?”

“Extremely vulgar, and it would not please me to hear them on your lips.”

Her sisters had told her some men liked dirty talking. Phoebe didn’t think she would and was glad her husband didn’t either.

Reaching further, she found his scrotum. The new words as well as the other things she’d learned last night from her sisters were helpful.

Marcus’s voice was deeper and more gravelly. “Phoebe, my love,
please
tell me what you intend to do. You do have a plan?”

She glanced at him wickedly and wiggled down on his legs.

He blinked. “You couldn’t know about . . .”

She bent over him, touching her tongue to his straining member, and took him into her mouth. Her lips closed around him. He tasted musky and salty, different but not unpleasant. He grew harder.

He collapsed back. “Your sisters. I had no idea ladies discussed such things.”

Phoebe started to giggle, but found it was hard to laugh with him in her mouth.

Marcus’s hands tangled in her hair as she licked and sucked. His breathing changed to panting. “Enough, please. Come to me.”

She released him. Marcus lifted her up and slowly lowered her down onto his damp shaft.

Phoebe gasped as he filled her completely. She placed her hands on his chest, and he held her hips, moving her up and down until she moved herself and realized she could control the pace and the depth of his penetration.

He kneaded her swollen breasts, teasing her already tight nipples, before taking one in his mouth and curling his tongue around it. He sucked as he gently squeezed the other. But it wasn’t enough. “More, please. I can’t . . .”

Her voice trailed off as Marcus put his hand in her curls and rubbed. The familiar tension sluiced through her and waves of warmth roiled deep inside. Finally, she arched back in an ecstatic cry and came. Marcus followed.

Marcus fell back against the pillows, taking her with him. She closed her eyes, about ready to sink back asleep when a sudden thought occurred to her. She was going to have her courses this week, and was glad it had held off. Strangely, she didn’t feel the discomfort she usually did and wondered if having intimate relations with Marcus was medicinal. If so, she would have to have them more often.

When next Marcus woke, it was fully light. Sounds of clinking china came from the next room.

“Is that food?” Phoebe asked, throwing the covers aside. “I’m hungry.”

Marcus stilled her. “Wait here. I’ll see what we have.”

He shrugged into his dressing gown and peeked into the parlor. Phoebe donned her wrapper and came up behind him.

Rose and Covey were setting up a table with rolls, butter, crumpets, and preserves.

Marcus cleared his throat to let them know he was present.

Rose glanced toward the door and blushed vividly, before turning away.

Covey grinned. “Yes, should have left it all to me. I tried to tell you his lordship wouldn’t be dressed, but you wouldn’t believe me. Iffen’ you’re plannin’ to set up the table for them . . .”

As Marcus was trying to decide how to handle what was obviously a potential
contretemps,
Phoebe entered the room, smiling widely.

“Rose, how kind of you. Thank you so much for thinking of this.”

Her maid’s flush faded under Phoebe’s approbation.

His wife’s smile faded a bit when she addressed Covey. “And Covey, how nice of you to assist.”

Well, this was not a good start.

Raising her chin, Rose said, “My lady, I thought you might be awake soon. Shall I fetch your tea?”

Phoebe smiled again. “Yes, please do, and I think his lordship would like something a little more substantial to eat.” She paused. “Come to think of it, so do I.”

Rose bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Marcus caught Covey’s eye. “We’ll leave after luncheon. I’d like to get to Newhaven while it is still light enough for Lady Evesham to stroll around the village. But first, you can help Rose bring the rest of breakfast and see to our bathwater.”

Covey mumbled something under his breath, bowed, and left.

“Oh dear.” Phoebe frowned. “Do you think we are going to have problems between the two of them?”

Marcus rubbed his forehead. It was much too early to have this discussion. “I certainly hope not. Covey has been with me forever, through thick and thin.”

His beloved’s chin firmed. “I understand what you mean. Rose has been with me since I was fifteen. They’ll just have to learn to work together.”

She shrugged lightly. “You speak with Covey. I’ll do the same with Rose.”

Marcus opened his mouth and closed it. The devil. He would not have his first argument with his wife over the servants. Particularly as it appeared Covey had started it.

“Marcus.”

“Yes, my love.”

“I think we should put off our trip for a week or so, I would like to be here for Arthur’s burial, and you should insure all is in order with the guardianship.”

He drew her into his arms. “You’re right. We’ll delay our travel.”

As much as he wanted her all to himself, he could not deny his responsibilities. One of which was to give his brother a proper farewell and make certain all was well with his nieces.

Later that morning, Phoebe took her sisters and aunt aside and told them she and Marcus would remain at Charteries for a week or so.

“You must order mourning clothes as well, my dear,” Aunt Ester said. “No one will expect you to wear them in Paris, but in England they will be necessary.”

“I’ll send a letter to Madame Lisette.”

Hester and Hermione glanced at one another, and Hester said, “If you’d like, we’ll remain here with you for a while longer.”

Phoebe released the breath she’d been holding. Having her family here, with the children, would be a great comfort. “Thank you. I would like you to stay.”

Aunt Ester smiled. “We shall delay our departure as well.”

“There,” Phoebe said. “That’s settled.”

A few days after Arthur’s funeral, as she was hurrying to her apartments, a strong arm grabbed her around the waist. Phoebe gave a small shriek, before she recognized her husband’s scent and broad chest.

He kissed her temple. “You’re in a rush.”

“Yes, I promised Emily and Anne that my sisters and I would practice shooting this afternoon.”

His lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “Do you mind if I come with you?”

Phoebe turned in his arms. “Not at all.”

“My lord!” Covey said, striding rapidly down the corridor. “We’ve got a problem.”

Chapter Twenty-five

M
arcus pulled Phoebe to his side. “Covey, what is it?”

Covey glanced at Phoebe and back to Marcus. “I’ll let the groom who was at the bawdy house tell ye.”

“Bawdy house?” Phoebe asked, confused.

Marcus rubbed a hand over his face. Oh, God. How to explain this to her? “I didn’t know we had one around here.”

“We do now.” Covey’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “That woman I told ye about? She set herself up in the tavern and’s been givin’ special rates to any of our servants. Asking a lot of questions, too.”

“Travenor,” Marcus said.

“That’d be my guess. I told ye, men like him don’t give up. Got gnats in his head, that one.”

Phoebe’s gaze had been going back and forth between Covey and Marcus. “What is going on, and what is a bawdy house?”

He glared at his groom. “You would have to mention that.” She was bound to put herself in the thick of things. “My love, let me take care of this. You have enough to do without getting involved as well.”

Her face flushed, and she opened her mouth.

He rushed on before she could speak. “It is nothing a gently nurtured lady should be aware of.”

For a minute, Marcus thought she’d throw a punch. “I am now a
married
woman, and there is no reason for you to keep secrets from me. If it’s like a brothel, just say it. You’re not going to shock me. Tell me what’s happening now!”