Carre: Outlaw Part 22

"You must." So had the prerogatives of power s.h.i.+fted, and the woman who had rebuffed and taunted him since Hexham was pleading now for his touch. "Now stand perfectly still," he said.

She did, because his voice held the sharp distinct threat of withdrawal, and she needed him above all things.

As she stood motionless, he slipped each dress hook free with a casualness that belied his own intense arousal. Only the delicate sound of fingers sliding over silk, muted recurring clicks, and Elizabeth's agitated breathing resonated in the hush of the large chamber until the last covered hook opened, and the heavy fabric fell away from her body.

"I have another request," Johnnie said.

A small hesitation while she looked at him. "Anything," she whispered.

He smiled at her generosity. "I'm going to untie you so I can remove your dress, but then you must return your arms behind your back."

"Yes, yes ... anything."

Brief seconds later the magnificent gown lay in disarray at their feet. He gently placed her hands behind the ma.s.sive bedpost but didn't tie them. "And now you're restrained only by urgent pa.s.sion and your need of me."

"Or need of one part of you," Elizabeth murmured on a suffocated breath.

"Which you'll enjoy in due course," he replied with a shameless arrogance. "Should you be wearing this?" he queried the next moment, running a finger over the boning of her lace corset. "Isn't it crus.h.i.+ng my son?"

"Or daughter."

He smiled. "I must consider that, mustn't I? Does that mean I should send back the targe and sword?"

"Let me use it on you instead," she whispered, "in the interests of speed. And now, d.a.m.n you, my sovereign Lord," she went on in a heated whisper, "take off the rest of my clothes if you wish, and those of yours that will do me the most good, and kindly do your duty to me."

He almost complied out of kindness, until he recalled her mocking obstinacy at his offer of marriage just short minutes ago, and he changed his mind, making her wait while he stripped her chemise and corset from her.

He stood for a moment afterward gazing at her, struck suddenly by the reality of her pregnancy, seeing her former slenderness altered by a subtle new voluptuousness. "You b.r.e.a.s.t.s have changed with the child," he said, thinking how rare the phenomenon of pregnancy in his life. How extraordinary.

"They feel tender, more sensitive," she whispered, his eyes on her as sensual as his touch.

"Always?" A hushed query, tentative, venturesome, provocative with suggestion.

"Always," she said, appeal in her voice.

He moved closer, his stocking feet on the carpet noiseless. "Would you like me to touch them?"

She nodded, unable to find sufficient air at that moment to speak.

And he gently took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, exerted a mild pressure, watched how they instantly swelled, handled them lightly for exquisite moments more, stroking them while he marveled at their transformation. "Look how long they've become," he murmured.

But Elizabeth stood trembling with desire, her eyes nearly closed.

"Look," he softly repeated, stroking the rigid, elongated pink crests, kissing her eyelids, forcing her to look. "Will you share your milk with me," he murmured, "when these are gorged and full?"

"Yes ... yes ... whatever you want ..." Her voice drifted away, all her senses focused at the hot, pulsing core of her body.

He looked at her, a faint smile touching his mouth. "I want you to scream with pleasure," he whispered. And bending his head, he took the hard, rigid jewel of a nipple in his mouth and sucked, gently at first and then with a forceful pressure, until she cried out in ecstasy.

"You're cruel," she breathed, holding him at her breast, half-mad from the rapture, stifling the pleasure sounds in her throat so those in the adjacent room wouldn't hear her again.

His head came up so suddenly, her hands were dashed aside, and she stood braced against the bedpost, frightened he'd leave her, searching his face, wanting to know his thoughts so she could please him. So he would give her pleasure.

"You're wrong," he said, standing utterly motionless, his eyes different, like a stranger's. "I've changed all my world for you."

She'd never seen his face stripped bare-his charm and playful pretense gone. Even his formidable authority was shut away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, understanding suddenly how wrong she'd been to so selfishly discount his feelings.

A moment later his capricious mood had pa.s.sed, and his familiar smile returned. "Don't take advantage of me," he said in his characteristically impudent way.

"I never would, I owe you too much," she answered, artless to his mockery. "You don't know how much I wanted this baby ... from the very first," she softly said, wanting to offer him something in recognition of his openhearted admission, wanting to give him part of her joy, wanting to share this life inside her.

"Then you must be grateful to me," he said with a small smile. Uncomfortable with the depth of his feelings, unfamiliar with sincere attachment, he spoke with a deliberate lightness. But an overwhelming need to hold her moved him-beyond carnal urges, more essential, as if she'd become precious to him. And slipping his arm under her knees, he swung her up into his arms.

"I will always be ... grateful," she whispered, kissing him tenderly, lacing her arms around his neck. "You haven't just changed your world, you've changed mine. I'm having a baby," she exclaimed with joy. "We're having a baby."

He smiled at her happiness, wondering if her delight were infectious. And he kissed her tenderly as he carried her to the bed. Laying her on the green silk, he joined her there and, lying propped on his elbow at her side, still dressed as though he hadn't decided yet what to do with her, he traced a delicate finger from her collarbone down to her belly. "This is very ... different," he said, his voice low, his hand warm on her belly. "I'm not familiar ... with pregnant ladies."

"Wives ..." she acceded, "if you'll still have me."

"I would have had you, sweet Bitsy," he declared with a quiet gravity, "if it meant keeping you tied to my bed for a lifetime."

"I didn't last quite that long," Elizabeth teased. "You have a very persuasive way...."

"How persuasive can I be?" he asked, insinuation rich in his voice. His palm glided over her stomach, tentative, inquisitive. "I don't know about babies."

"I know nothing as well." Less in doubt than he, she gloried in her condition. "We'll learn together."

A small frown appeared over his eyes. "Should I call in a midwife? Maybe we should talk to someone."

"Now?" she said, feeling so full of l.u.s.t, she couldn't imagine it was unhealthy.

"We could wait," he said with tremendous restraint, not sure he was actually capable of such devotion.

"We certainly couldn't," Elizabeth emphatically replied. "And since we're concerned with lessons of duty tonight, there's one I don't wish you to forget."

He laughed. "Not likely with you naked beside me and so hot, I can see the roses wilting in their vases."

The look she cast at him was unabashedly bold. "Since pregnancy seems to make one-well ... insatiable, I'll expect you at stud service except when you're sleeping." Shameless and saucy, she lazily winked at him. "And even then I may wake you."

He grinned at her, all impudence and laughing eyes. "I must have died," he softly said, "and gone to heaven."

But he was infinitely careful at first, until she purred, "If you don't ride me, my Lord, I'll have to ride you ... or find someone else to satisfy me."

He looked down at her, his eyes narrowed in heated contemplation. "You wouldn't live long should you ever look."

"Then you must satisfy me, my Lord," she said, sweet and luscious and twined around him.

He laughed then, this man whose reputation for pleasing women was legend. "Will I be rewarded if I do?"

"I think you might consider it a reward, my Lord." And he did.

After a lengthy interval of prenuptial consummation in which both came to understand the new measure of "insatiable," Johnnie gasped, lying above her, breathless after his second o.r.g.a.s.m, "If ... you ... would allow ... a short ... break in your ... stud service ... I think I hear someone rapping ... at the door." He'd ignored the sound the first time, glanced up the second, and, reliably sure it wasn't going away now this third time, realized some response was necessary. "How wellmannered ... do you feel?"

Stretching like a sultry feline, she gazed up at him and whispered provocatively, "You have something new in mind?"

"The next seven months should be interesting," he murmured, his blue eyes amused, "and no-not just yet, my darling bride. Listen."

The knocking echoed in the room.

"Someone wants you?"

"Us."

"Why?" Only luscious sensation strummed through her consciousness.

"For our wedding."

"Oh dear." She glanced at the clock on the mantel.

"We should let them in. It's Mrs. Reid, I expect." He grinned. "She has no respect for my consequence."

"Now?" It was ten o'clock. "Like this?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Without clothes?"

"I'm too hot for clothes, and since we have to go through the ritual bedding before witnesses anyway ... why get dressed only to get undressed again? You can pull the covers up."

Her eyes flew open, aghast, so he rose from the bed and rummaged through his bureau drawers to find her one of his nights.h.i.+rts. He dressed her in it and brushed her hair and tied it back with his peac.o.c.k-blue ribbon that he found after much searching under the sheets. "Now there," he said patting the bow in place like a proud father, "the perfect bride."

"There's one other small thing," Elizabeth mentioned, standing before him with his nights.h.i.+rt in folds over her feet and the sleeves rolled up a dozen times and her green eyes uncertain.

"How small?" he asked, towering over her, unselfconsciously nude, his dark hair in soft waves on his shoulders, the width of his shoulders impressive from her viewpoint.

"Medium small."

His brows rose at her puzzling ambiguity. "Is this a riddle that has to do with elephants and boxes?"

"I'm serious, Johnnie."

"I'm listening," he replied, his smile wiped away.

"It has to do with our vows ... and well-you know-"

"Just say it, darling. You can have anything."

"All right then. If I must promise to love, honor, and obey," she answered in a rush, "so must you promise to obey."

He thought for a moment, this man of authority, a child of fortune who bowed to no one. "Perhaps we could delete obey," he quietly said, too long his own man to relinquish his sovereignty even to ritual.

She smiled. "Agreed."

His answering smile was benevolent. He wished to give her the world on a string. "Is that all now?"

She nodded, content, the specters from her past banished.

Brus.h.i.+ng back an errant curl on her forehead, he said, "Into bed with you then, love, and I'll call in all the restless and avidly curious."

After unlocking the door, he casually returned to the bed. Elizabeth expected his chaplain to walk in any minute and discover Johnnie naked. He'd settled back against the pillows and pulled the coverlet modestly up to his waist, however, before those outside seemed aware the door had been unlocked. Gazing fondly at his bride-to-be, who was blus.h.i.+ng pink to her hair roots in antic.i.p.ation of her public embarra.s.sment, he said, "Relax, darling, everyone will be obliging, and this ceremonial drama is mainly for the benefit of all those who might take issue with our marriage."9 "Like my father," she said, sighing.

"Or the Grahams, perhaps."

She grinned. "Or your numerous disgruntled lovers."

None of those he knew would be deterred for a second by his marriage, but he didn't want to disturb Elizabeth's good cheer, so he only nodded. "George Baldwin might consider breach of promise, too," he added, "so I want no question of our marriage's consummation ... particularly with the child arriving early. Smile now," he said with a teasing grin as the door finally opened tentatively, and Helen peeked her head around. "Everyone is very pleased you've agreed to be my wife, and Mrs. Reid in particular feels I've at last done my duty to her satisfaction."

When the crowd pressed into the room like a flood breaking through a dike, Elizabeth was stunned at the numbers. Although generally two witnesses were sufficient for legal purposes, Johnnie had taken the precaution of including several members of the village outside his employ. In the event the marriage was disputed, witnesses beyond his personal retinue would be more valid as unbiased observers. He'd taken the precaution, too, to include a bishop of the Anglican Church in addition to his Church of Scotland domestic chaplain. All eventualities had been considered; he understood the extent of their enemies.

After instructing the clergymen about the minor modification in the vows, he rested back against the lacetrimmed pillows, his bare chest the ardent focus of many female eyes in the crowd of witnesses. Taking Elizabeth's hand in his, as though nude Earls and tousled Ladies in nights.h.i.+rts were normal wedding partners, he said, "We're ready."

The Reverend and Bishop, both keeping their eyes averted with polite restraint, read from their marriage services, and Elizabeth and Johnnie answered with the appropriate responses-twice; rings were exchanged; the license was signed by the partic.i.p.ants and the witnesses; the marriage duly noted in both parish ledgers. The marriage of the Earl and Countess Graden was concluded.

"Could I have something to eat now?" Elizabeth whispered, leaning close to her new husband's ear as the witnesses buzzed around them and the two clergymen saw to the final seals and notations.

"Does this mean your pa.s.sion for me has been replaced by a veal cutlet now that we're married?" Johnnie teased.

"It's just that ... I didn't eat dinner tonight because I was so nervous about-well ..." She grinned. "And now I know I wouldn't have had to be anxious ... but anyway ... I'm always hungry," she finished in apology. "Since the baby."

Johnnie had already gestured for Mrs. Reid before Elizabeth concluded her halting explanation. "We need a small wedding feast up here," Johnnie said to Mrs. Reid, who was beaming uncontrollably like a matchmaker extraordinaire. "Everything else is arranged downstairs?" he inquired.

"The tables are full, the musicians are ready. Everything's in place, my Lord."

"Since Lady Carre is feeling a bit indisposed, we won't be joining the festivities," Johnnie dissembled with ease, not inclined to share his wife's company that night. "Please make our excuses ...

As if his word "indisposed" had been a cannon shot, Mrs. Reid immediately cleared the room with loud clucking noises of disapproval, shooing out the miscellany of locals who were looking forward to the wedding festivities. "And now for you," she said, giving Johnnie a look of censure on her return bedside, "if Lady Elizabeth is feeling poorly, ye make certain ye don't be a brute to her. The poor wee thing is having a bairn and needs to be coddled," she ordered. "If you know what I mean," she ominously added.

After having just spent a physically demanding hour or so in bed with his new wife, Johnnie had serious doubts concerning Mrs. Reid's perception of Elizabeth's delicacy, but in the interests of harmony he said with a smile, "Rest a.s.sured, Mrs. Reid, I shall coddle-most earnestly. My word on it."

"Humpf." Her snort was one of suspicion. "And I'll see to it if ye don't," she warned with a raised finger and the authority of a despot.

"Actually, I do feel a little weak," Elizabeth faintly interposed, like a bad actress from the provinces, and falling back against her pillows in a melodramatic swoon, she cast Johnnie a reproachful look.

"You see," Mrs. Reid grumbled, glaring at her master, who was trying desperately to stifle his laughter. "She's not like those tarts of yourn in Edinbura, Johnnie, ready to take on any man jack in town. My lady needs to be treated with a right gentle hand. Now what do ye wish to eat, my Lady?" Mrs. Reid cooed, leaning over Elizabeth, tucking the covers under her chin.

"Maybe a little broth," Elizabeth murmured, smiling weakly, "and an apple tart." She sighed with a credible feebleness. "Perhaps a bite or two of that meat pie you sent up for dinner too-if it's not too much trouble."