Page 65 of Lord Trafford's Folly
Groaning in triumph, he continued his lunging, pleasure accumulating at the base of his spine as he drove into her, his passion thrusting her ever higher against the wall behind her back. She was glorious, and hot, and soft, and his!
Julius was mindless with craving, pounding his ravishing companion until he peaked, arching with one deep plungeforward as he spilled his seed into her tight hug with a growl of primal passion.
They remained wrapped around each other, both panting from the vigors of their lovemaking as they gradually recovered their senses. Julius backed up so she could slide down his length onto her dainty feet, but he did not let her go. He held her head to his shoulder, and her arms found their way around his waist as they leaned into each other.
“You were right,” she commented, tickling him with the exhalation of her whisper.
Julius did not respond for several seconds, just enjoying the feel of her soft curves pressed to him. “About what?”
“I was too inexperienced to do that the first night,” Audrey replied in an awed tone.
Julius huffed a half laugh, leaning down to lift her into his arms and walk over to her crumpled bed. “Give me a few minutes and I might show you … more.”
Her silver eyes flared in wonder. “There is more?”
Julius grinned. “There is much, much more,” he purred, thinking of all the positions they could try and which she might enjoy the most based on their previous encounters. He was going to enjoy schooling her far more in the practical applications of carnal relations than the theoretical tutelage he had provided his other chum for his wedding night.
Which made him think of their wedding night, and what he might do to make it special.
After another bout of lovemaking, Julius had mercy on his tender betrothed. He held her in his arms in what he supposed was a cuddle—an activity he was not well familiar with—listening to the sound of her sleeping. Their athletic endeavors had exhausted Audrey. She dozed off in the crook of his arm with her head resting on his shoulder. He should leave, but he wanted to stay a little longer to appreciate this night the way he should.
That she had welcomed him back with little complaint, and was amenable to arranging a future together, was the sweetest relief. He had not wished to approach her empty-handed, but he had reached a point earlier in the evening when he thought he might be required to. The first three physicians on his list had been, in his opinion, disappointing. They had some merits, but they were not as adamant in their beliefs as Audrey had been. His perception was they were afraid to rock the boat and would not stick to their principles, so he had not even offered them a peek at Dr. Gideon’s notes.
Frustrated, he had driven himself to do one last visit despite believing it would be a waste. But meeting Dr. Hawley had been perfection. The physician had left his family dinner to take a meeting with Julius, and it had been instantly clear he differed from the others. Hawley had been intrigued by what he had to say, asking permission to inspect his injury and reading through the journal with fervent interest. Julius looked forward to introducing Hawley to Audrey so she could converse with someone who understood her passions. He himself would learn about her interests, but he could never be an expert like she was, and he wanted her to fulfill her goals.
One aggravation which needed to be dealt with was the need to have the Johns accompany him everywhere he went. Julius was willing to share his adventures with Audrey but not sullen guards, who were the leering grotesques mounted on the eaves of an ominous château in the woods. He was feeling like a fated hero from a melodramatic gothic novel, and he wanted his freedoms to be returned.
The mere thought of his current restrictions made him roll his eyes.
Shifting his head, he buried his face in the flaxen locks of Audrey’s hair to inhale deeply of her herbal scent. It cleared hismind to recall what he was gaining by letting go of a few of his frivolous liberties.
Eventually, with reluctance, Julius rolled her onto her back. Gathering his clothes with a grimace—he should have folded them properly, but his desire to bury himself in Audrey’s soft heat had overtaken his usual impeccable habits—he quietly left the room.
Soon they would be wed, and he would no longer need to keep up appearances for the servants or his family. He would spend every night in her bed. Would they live here, in his father’s townhouse? He supposed that would be something for him and Audrey to discuss. They had numerous details to discuss about their mutual future, but he was rather excited at the prospect.
It was time he embarked on a new chapter in his life, and Audrey was his cure to the ennui that had overtaken him these past few years and the key to his future interests.
SEPTEMBER 4, 1821
Audrey rose before dawn to inspect her room before any servants appeared. She tidied away the evidence of her night of passion with Julius. Then, noting she was still fatigued from the activities of the night before, she pulled her crumpled night rail back on and climbed back into bed to fall asleep once more.
Much later, she woke again. Checking the timepiece beside her bed, she learned it was nearly noon. Not the habits of the country girl she was at heart, but she would repeat the night a thousand times and never weary of hearing Julius declare his esteem. She stretched out and turned to sniff the pillow where he had lain. It smelled like spice and leather and … man.
Rolling out of bed, she began to prepare for the day, standing by the washstand to clean herself with the cold water when she heard a low knock on her door. She located her robe, and pattered in her bare feet to see who it was.
When she swung the door open, she found Julius leaning against the opposite wall. He grinned when he saw her, waving up a folded document in a teasing gesture. “Would you care to say your vows?”
Her mouth fell open in pleased amazement. “The license?”
“It is. Are you ready?”
Audrey snorted, gesturing at the night things she was wearing. “I think not.”
He dropped his gaze to skim over her form, a lustful expression on his face. “I do not see the problem, but if you wish to change, do you have something pretty in that wardrobe of yours?”
Audrey looked back at the mahogany wardrobe and pulled a face. “There is nothing but mourning garments in there,” she admitted.
“Then my mother will be along to assist you. Between her and Penelope there should be a French gown that will suit.”
