Page 14 of Make My Wish Come True
“Gwen,” he gasped. His shoulders were shaking.
She was coming, her body giving way to the pleasure he had wrought. He knew it, too, his wicked fingers inside her stroking something that seemed to make stars burst behind her eyelids. “Yes,” she wept. “Please. Please.” She tilted her hips toward him and flung back her head.
He waited until the first contraction seized her, then his hand was gone, and he spread her legs wide and moved between them, driving hard into her. Gwen grabbed his arse and bucked her hips, overwhelmed at the connection and wanting more. “Christ,” he gasped at her ear, and then he was moving, matching the tempo of the glorious climax rippling through her until she was limp, and he wrenched away with a groan as he spilled himself against her belly.
Neither moved for a long time. Gwen thought she might have gone deaf, except that she could hear his ragged breathing. She groped for his hand and was reassured when his fingers laced through hers and he squeezed. She turned her head, not knowing what she would say, and his mouth covered hers. His kiss was tender, and Gwen felt a warm glow suffuse her entire body. She rolled toward him and kissed him back.
Several minutes later he sat up and rose from the bed. He gave a muffled curse as he moved about the dark room, and then he was back with a wet cloth. “’Tis cold,” he whispered. “Sorry.”
Gwen blushed as he gingerly wiped her belly. The cloth was cold, a sharp slap of reality after the dream-like lovemaking, and she began to feel awkward. She tugged her nightdress back into place as the captain moved away again. She supposed he was cleaning up himself, or perhaps buying time to think what to say. Even though he’d been an active participant, it didn’t mean he would view this the same way she did. She knew all too well that the same man who seduced a virtuous girl would turn around and condemn her as loose, as soon as she gave in to him. Or perhaps he would fear that she would demand things of him and was already withdrawing.
But the captain didn’t say anything, and a few minutes later he slipped back into the bed. Gwen lay frozen on her side of the bed, barely breathing, until his hand closed around hers, comforting and strong. She squeezed hard back, inordinately happy. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her as if he would never let go.
Gwen melted into him. Don’t think of tomorrow, she told herself. Take this for what it is--only tonight. And finally she succumbed to the warmth of a deep, sated sleep.
* * *
Adrian woke early, thinking himself still sleeping in a narrow camp bed. His foot was half frozen, sticking out from under the blankets, and he felt in danger of falling off the bed.
It took a moment to realize that he was on the edge of the mattress because Gwen was pressed up against his back. An unconscious smile curved his lips as he remembered the feel of her in his arms, beneath him, around him, and the needy way she whispered Please.
His smile vanished as he realized what he’d done. He’d made love to the girl. He’d woken from a nightmare about a disastrous scouting expedition in Spain to find her rubbing his back soothingly, almost lovingly, and he’d clung to her as a shipwrecked man might seize a raft—and then proceeded to climb on top of her like the selfish scoundrel he apparently was.
Even worse, he wanted to do it again. He had a raging erection that twitched when Gwen sighed in her sleep and stretched her legs. Adrian broke out in a light sweat as her bare foot brushed his calf. He distinctly remembered gliding his hand down her bare leg and hooking it around his waist, right before he rode her until he almost lost consciousness. And if he turned over, he would kiss her awake, and feel her move against him, and it might well happen again.
He knew what he ought to do, the honorable thing to do. It even was rather appealing, as he truly liked the lady. She was clever, and witty, and she didn’t go to pieces easily. She had a streak of artless affection that warmed his lonely soul. She cared for her grandmother and she was fond of children, a savior of cats, polite to harried innkeepers, and generous with her coin even when she had few. He liked being with her. He liked pleasing her. He wanted to know her better.
But even if he was enamored with the idea, she deserved more of a choice. She’d been under a large amount of strain, from her telling, and perhaps she’d welcomed his reckless advances as a purely physical release, or even out of obligation because he’d offered to bring her to Blackthorpe.
That thought made his stomach turn, and he slid stealthily out of bed. It was dawn, but he could see her now. Her hair, wild loose waves that spread over his pillow, looked darker in the pearly light, and her face was even more lovely than he remembered. She was beautiful, he thought wistfully, and eased the blankets over her shoulders.
And he owed her a safe trip home. That was what he’d promised her, not ruination. Not only that, he needed to get home. It was shameful how little he’d thought of his family, anxiously awaiting him, while he was enchanted by Guinevere Barrett’s charm. Home was where his mind should be.
Resolve firming, he dressed in his mostly dry clothes, collected his things, and quietly let himself out of the room.
Chapter 9
Gwen awoke feeling warm and blissfully relaxed. She stretched out, savoring the comfort of the whole wide bed.
Her eyes flew open. She was alone in that bed, and sprawled across the middle of it, not lying decorously on her side of the mattress. She sat up in alarm even as she recognized that the captain was gone. His clothing was no longer on the chair, and the room was quiet.
She sank back down, oddly bereft. Of course she hadn’t expected to wake up with him smiling down at her, ready to offer a morning kiss and perhaps even more. She blushed at the memory of his mouth on her body, and then blushed even harder to think of doing that in the light of day—she ought to be ashamed for wanting him to make love to her again. The last thing he’d said to her had been sorry.
What’s done is done, she told herself, and threw back the blankets. It was frigidly cold in the room, which she welcomed, and she hurried into her dirty dress as quickly as she could. After tidying the room, she brushed her hair and pinned it up, then folded up her nightgown and brush before opening the door.
The maid directed her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Kittridge herself was making breakfast. “There you are, dear,” she said with a smile. “Sleep well?”
Gwen blushed. “Yes, thank you. Is the captain…?”
The vicar’s wife waved one hand. “Up at dawn he was, shaving himself here in the kitchen with cold water! He told Mr. Kittridge he had to go to the Black Hart and see about a carriage. The two of them set off some time ago. Now, sit down and have some porridge, a nice hot breakfast for this cold day.”
Gwen sat down and ate. She had just finished her bowl of hot porridge with dried apricots when a jingle of bells sounded outside. Mrs. Kittridge raised her brows and hurried to the front door. Gwen followed close behind, and had to shade her eyes.
The rain had turned back into snow at some point, and everything in sight was covered by a brilliant blanket of glittering white. The bells heralded a small sleigh, pulled by a pair of gray horses. Mr. Kittridge waved at them from the seat, and when the captain stopped the horses in front of the house, he touched his fingers to his hat in salute.
“A fine day for a drive, isn’t is, Mrs. Fitzhugh?” crowed the vicar, climbing out of the sleigh. Gwen started as she realized he was speaking to her. “I hope Catherine fed you, for the captain tells me he’s anxious to be on the way.”
“Of course I did, Jasper,” scolded his wife. She was already holding Gwen’s cloak. “Here, dear, you’ll want to be off as quickly as possible, for the horses.”
