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Miranda could not help herself from whimpering when Spencer’s hands went to the front placket of his pants. When his fingers stilled, she raised her eyes to his face and he grinned at her while his eyes twinkled with amusement. The devil.
“I believe you are overdressed.” He rose, walked toward her, and she held her breath as his hands gently turned her around and he began the tedious task of unbuttoning her day dress. When her maid dressed and undressed her it seemed to be such a mundane part of her day. When Spencer unbuttoned each button, followed by his lips, kissing the exposed skin, she shivered and her head lolled back in utter bliss.
Time stood still. Good time. She was so lost in her blossoming arousal and enjoying her husband’s hands and mouth on her, she barely realized when her clothing pooled around her feet and she was totally naked with his warm arms circling her waist.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He released her and tugged her hand with his. “Come. I hear the bed calling our names.”
Miranda was convinced she glided across the room because she didn’t feel her feet touching the ground.
Right before her wide eyes, Spencer dropped his breeches to reveal his, large, hard, and pulsing manhood. For one moment in time she panicked at the sight of it, then she remembered he loved her and would never intentionally hurt her. He would die before he accomplished that.
As though he understood her silent concerns, he murmured, “Easy love. It’s me. I will love and cherish you and no more.”
“I know.” Finding her courage she pulled down the coverlet and climbed on the bed, turned on her side, and immediately felt the dipping of the mattress as he joined her.
He reached out and skimmed his fingers up her arm, across her chest, and down the other side only to repeat the movement again. Each time the pads of his fingers touched her sensitized skin she quivered, closed her eyes, and sighed. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear. Comprehending the words he whispered didn’t matter. What mattered was his tone. He spoke and touched her as if he cherished her.
When his warm lips replaced his fingers she moaned and silently hoped he never stopped touching and kissing her. Time became irrelevant as the room, the world and the universe collided and became one with them.
Her mind centered wholly on the touch and sounds coming from Spencer. He breathed heavily and moaned deeply. She sucked in her breath as his hand traveled down between her breasts, over the small swell of her stomach until it landed there. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his thumb in circles and her body answered. Her hips rose off the bed. When he removed his hand briefly she protested. “Spencer.”
“I know darling. I know.”
Then she gasped and her hips bucked up as his hot tongue licked her and his hands spread her thighs wide. His mouth sucked on her core and she didn’t know what to do. Where to put her hands as the world exploded around her and she heard someone screaming and when Spencer climbed up her body and covered her mouth with his, the screams vanished and she realized they had come from her.
She should be mortified, but she didn’t care. As his knee rose and he nudged her legs apart, positioning him over her, she waited for panic to come but it didn’t. She wanted this. Wanted to know what it felt like to be loved completely by the man she cherished.
He entered her slowly, no doubt waiting for her to adjust. When it didn’t happen quickly enough, she placed her hands on his hips, pulling him down until he was buried to the hilt inside her and all she felt was full. No pain, no anxiety. Comfortably full.
“Good?” Spencer asked looking at her with a worried expression. “Not moving is torturing me.”
“Move. Please, move.”
And move he did. Slowly at first then faster and harder and louder and louder they became until her insides tightened around him and she saws stars twinkling around the room. Spencer pushed one last time hard, froze, threw his head back and howled.
He collapsed on top of her, and she kept her arms and legs wrapped around his body, never wanting to let go. If she died tomorrow she would have no regrets.
Before she could stop herself she started to giggle. “I’m sorry. I was just remembering something my aunt told me her mother told her on the night before her wedding. How it was the wife’s duty to close her eyes and think happy thoughts while her husband rutted between her legs. Who do you suppose made up such a ridiculous thing?”
“Some maiden who never married and experienced lovemaking. Or someone who married an elderly gentleman with no teeth, foul breath, and sagging skin.”
She giggled once again. “What a horrible vision. I’ll take my handsome, young, full rows of teeth and tight skin, husband any day.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Oh,” she moaned as his hands began exploring, followed by his mouth, and she clutched his upper arms ready for the wild ride to commence.
***
Spencer could hardly believe the sight of his wife, lying naked, curled up against his side sleeping soundly after making love twice. He carefully, not wanting to wake her, reached down and pulled up the coverlet to keep them warm. If his sweaty body was chilled, she must be as well.
While he held the most precious person close to his heart, he relived the past hour and knew he had a stupid grin on his face. When he suggested they go up to their chamber he never really expected to consummate their marriage. Didn’t believe Miranda was ready yet. Not after what transpired only hours ago.
Closing his eyes now, he swore he could still taste her sweetness on his tongue. The first time he sank his cock into her tight, warm channel he almost came instantly. It took all his self-control not to lose his seed. It was about her pleasure, not his. Only after she took hers, would he allow himself the privilege of his own release.
Nothing aroused him more than when she screamed to the point he had to kiss her to muffle her cries. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to come and enjoy his own release in his wife’s delectable body. A body made for him. He fit perfectly inside her as he’d known he would.
During the second time, her body responded with even greater passion. He’d always known, when they first met all those years ago, that she was a sensual person. All he had to do was look into her eyes and the curiosity and lust that had been there at seventeen was still there at twenty-nine. Even more so. She was a woman now and had a woman’s desires and needs.
Before he joined her in sleep, he wondered if they would make the masquerade ball at Bridgeton Manor later that evening.
***
“Miranda,” Aunt Violet’s voice came from the other side of the closed bed chamber door. “May I come in? We must leave for the masquerade ball in less than an hour, and I need your opinion on which mask to wear with my gown.”
Both Miranda and Spencer sat up and realized they had fallen asleep.
“Please give me a moment and I will come to your room.” Miranda turned to Spencer. “Go to your room and dress for tonight. I need to wash up and see to Auntie.”
Spencer gave her a quick kiss on both cheeks and left through the adjoining door.
Miranda hurried into a dressing robe and walked briskly to her aunt’s temporary chamber. Miranda would miss her terribly when she moved back into the townhouse on the outskirts of Mayfair. Once inside the room, she halted when she saw how beautiful and young Violet looked. “I love your interpretation of a Cyprian. I should be shocked, but somehow you pull it off without being overly exposed.”
“Thank you, my dear. Although I do wonder how you know about Cyprian’s and what they dress like.” She held up two elaborate masks. “Which one do you think suits me best?”
“Try on the lavender, cream, and gold one. The colors bring out the cream and gold of your gown.”
Violet put the mask on and Miranda clapped. “You look as young as a debutante.”
“God, I hope not. I don’t want to fend off young, handsome gentlemen all night long. But I would not mind finding a man close to my age to have an affair with.”
Miranda inhaled and felt her cheeks heat.
“Don’t look so shocked. I am but thirty-nine. I still have some good years left in me. I can never marry again, but I do like a man’s attentions now and then.”
“You are right. I should not be shocked. You are still young enough to...well...never mind. I’ve no doubt you will have all the eligible men close to your age vying for your attentions this evening.”
Her aunt fluttered around the room, her cream silk gown flowing sensually around her, and Miranda only hoped her own costume looked half as good.
“Go now and dress. We don’t want to arrive too fashionably late.”
With Claudia’s help, Miranda dressed as a gypsy. She and Spencer agreed to go as a gypsy husband and wife. When her maid put the finishing touches to her hair and make-up, Miranda stood in front of the cheval mirror and gawked at her reflection staring back at her.
She could not possibly be that person. Someone else stood there. Someone with strawberry-blonde hair hanging wavy and loose to her waist. The only adornment in her hair were red roses that matched her bright red full skirt. A white peasant blouse was tucked into the skirt and was accented with a wide belt in red, purple, and white. Her face was overly made up with red rouge and red lip color. Dark coal lines accented her eyes, making her look exotic.
No one would ever recognize her dressed like this, and she hadn’t even put on her red sequined mask.
Before she had a chance to step away from the mirror, Spencer swept through the adjourning room and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Miranda?”
“Spencer?”
She barely found her voice to answer him. Never had she seen him look so handsome. Not in his formal clothes, nor dressed in his tight fitting riding clothes. The man before her looked dangerous and sexy and caused her heart to flutter and her body to tingle and heat up.
“Now I see why women find gypsy men so alluring.” He was dressed in black tight breeches, polished black hessians, and a red blousy shirt with wide sleeves that tapered at the wrist and was scandalously open at the neck. The wide belt at his waist matched hers. His dark hair was slicked back off his forehead, except for one wayward curl. Her fingers itched to trace the stray lock.
“Miranda.” Spencer’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Shall we leave or are you going to stare at me all night. Because if you keep at it.” He grinned at her and his eyes narrowed sensually. “I won’t be able to leave anytime soon.” His hand gestured between his muscular thighs.
“Oh.” She wondered if the rouge hid her blush. “I’m sorry.”
The sound of her husband’s laughter made her melt. “Never be sorry to look at me. I love when you do. And may I say, without offending you, that you look good enough to eat. I want nothing more than to find out what you have hidden beneath your skirts. Perhaps we should send our regrets to William and Amelia.”
Now Miranda laughed. “Not a chance. I’ve never been to a masquerade ball and cannot wait to see all the costumes. Besides, I want to show off my handsome gypsy husband and make all the ladies jealous.”
He held out his arm and with a wicked grin said, “Shall we, then?”
She wrapped her arm through his. “We shall.”
Violet waited for them in the foyer and smiled when they came into view.
“Between the three of us we are sure to get the tongues of the ton wagging this evening. But then again, isn’t the reason one attends a masquerade is so they can become someone else entirely. Even if that someone else is considered lower class and scandalous.”
“Most definitely,” Spencer agreed as he escorted both ladies to the carriage and before they knew it they arrived in the carriage queue at Bridgeton Manor.
Even though it was dark, Miranda pulled the curtain aside and peered out, soaking in the sights of all the colorful costumes people wore as they ascended the stairs. Before she knew it, she was alighting the brick staircase, Spencer standing between her and her aunt.
She couldn’t help but wonder if there would be a regular receiving line where the butler announced their names. Her insides quivered. She didn’t want people to know who she was until the midnight mask unveiling. She soon had her answer when they greeted their host and hostess without introductions. Miranda curtsied. “Earl, Countess, thank you for inviting us this evening.” They were dressed as a king and queen. Which ones she did not know.
Bridgeton spoke up as he kissed her hand. “Welcome to our home.” Then he winked. Of course he would recognize her. If not her, Spencer.
Spencer leaned in, spoke to Amelia and she smiled.
Next she was escorted into the ballroom on the arm of her husband with Aunt Violet trailing behind them and her steps faltered. The huge room was dimly lit, and she’d never seen such open flirtatious behavior before.
“Easy, my dear. Wouldn’t want you tripping and falling on the floor. Not the entrance you were hoping for I’m certain.”
“No. I’m just shocked. I feel as though we are attending a Cyprian’s ball. Not that I’ve ever been to one, but I always imagined it would be like this. Dark and intimate with people standing close. Very close.”
He chuckled. “Yes. That is the allure of masquerade balls. People can pretend to be who they are not. Or be the person they hide inside, behind the formal, starchy clothing and good manners. It is the reason most debutantes are not allowed to attend. If they were, can you imagine how many would be ruined because they were lured into the gardens by some wicked man?”
“I never thought of it that way. But you are right. This is no place for someone so young and innocent.” She glanced behind her. “Aunt Violet disappeared. Do you think she will be safe on her own?”
“She will be fine. We are not actually at a Cyprian’s ball. We are at William and Amelia’s home. Nothing will happen to her here.”
“I suppose you are right. She is a grown woman, married three times already.”
“Exactly, my dear.” He began walking. “I believe I see Wentworth and the rest of the Seabrook family over by the refreshment table. Shall we say hello?”
As Spencer led her across the room, she tried to figure out how he recognized the Seabrook family. There were so many people crowded in the room and all the colorful costumes and masks had her head spinning and her eyes straining to make out who people were. Not that she knew all that many people in London these days, since it had been many years since she attended a Season.
During her first Season, she’d attended balls, soirees, musicals the opera and the theater. Never a masquerade. Even though she attended many functions she could only remember Spencer, dancing with him and looking forward to his afternoon tea visits.
But this, this was something she never imagined attending and her insides hummed with excitement.
“Spencer, Miranda,” Myles said as they approached.
“How on earth did you recognized us?” Spencer said.
“Easy. The same way you knew who we were.”
After greetings were made the men sort off drifted off leaving the ladies to talk.
“Amelia dressed as a gypsy once during a masquerade at the Northborough Estate,” Bella said. “Although I don’t believe she looked as convincing as you do Miranda.”
“Thank you. You and Myles look fabulous as Anthony and Cleopatra. Did Wentworth and Emma come?”
“No,” Bella replied. “Emma was a little tired. Her time is coming close.”
“How are you and Amelia feeling? One can hardly tell you are both increasing?”
“I can’t speak for her, but I feel wonderful. No longer experiencing morning sickness. Myles is grateful for that. I never knew men had such queasy stomachs.”
“I imagine he was worried about you.”
“Yes, he was. Still is,” Bella commented. “Tell me, how is married life to our dear Spencer?
Thankfully her rouge and mask hid her flushed cheeks. She knew Bella enough to know she hinted at their intimacy. Would she be shocked to know they only recently consummated their marriage? Probably. But not if she had knowledge of what occurred with Baker. Which made her wonder who knew from the Seabrook family and who didn’t? Amelia and Bridgeton knew, but she didn’t think anyone else did.
She didn’t think even Amelia and Bridgeton knew what happened that morning when Baker arrived at their home. Unless at some point Spencer sent word to his cousin.
As she thought about her husband, he suddenly appeared at her side. “A waltz is beginning.” He bowed and grinned. “May I have this dance, my fair gypsy lady?”
She curtsied and laughed. “Yes, my gypsy husband, you may.”
Miranda hadn’t danced in a very longtime and was a little apprehensive until Spencer took her into his arms, chasing her nerves away.
“I will never forget the first time we danced,” he whispered in her ear.
“Nor I.”
“Will you promise me you will never dance a waltz with another gentleman as long as I live?”
“I promise.” Then he twirled her around the dance floor, her heart sang and her feet rarely reached the ground. Before she knew it, he danced her right out a set of French doors onto the veranda and escorted her into the dimly lit gardens.
They could still hear the orchestra. Spencer held her close and they swayed together, neither speaking. They didn’t need to. Their bodies spoke for them. Never in all her life, had she imagined love could be so all encompassing. Nor, that she would ever see Spencer again, never mind marry him. The next time she saw her aunt she would thank her again for forcing her to come to London. She wished it had been under better circumstances though. Wishing they had come before her aunt’s no-good husband stole everything from her.
If they had not come, she would still be living in the country, wandering around like a lost soul. Which was what she’d been doing for twelve years. Thankfully, not any longer.
“I can’t believe we are married,” she sighed as Spencer nibbled at her neck.
“Believe it.” He nipped her earlobe with his teeth and she moaned. “We were meant to be together.”
His lips sought hers and her body melted against him. Her lips parted, welcoming him, and all the sounds disappeared around her except for the pounding of her heart. He cradled her face with his hands and deepened the kiss. Then he broke apart, tore off both their masks and grabbed for her again.
“Better. Much better,” he murmured as his lips traveled down her neck. His fingers tugged at the elastic neckline of her blouse, exposing her shoulder. His teeth skimmed across her newly exposed flesh and her knees almost buckled.
“Spencer,” she cried as he tugged the blouse lower, exposing one breast to the cool night air.
“God. I can’t get enough of you. Now that you’re mine, I will never let you go. Never let you out of my sight. I love you so much it hurts at times.”
Her head lolled back as his hot mouth sucked her nipple inside. “I don’t want you to ever let me go. I’m yours for now and always.”
One of his hands reached beneath her skirt and slowly, oh so slowly, slid up the inside of her leg until it found the opening in her pantaloons.
He exhaled loudly. “You’re so wet. I wish I could make love to you here.”
“As do I.” Were those her words? When did she become so bold? Must be her new husband corrupting her with his sexual prose.
“We can’t risk it, but I can...”
“Oh my God,” she moaned as he inserted one long finger inside her while his thumb circled around her nub. “More.”
She heard him chuckle against her chest. “Your wish is my command.”
His talented fingers had her crashing over the edge of reality. She tried to be quiet, tried not to cry out. Thankfully, he knew enough to stifle her cries with his mouth as her body convulsed over and over until she thought she might fall to the ground in a heap of liquid. “Thank you,” he murmured into her ear at the same time he dropped her skirt and righted her blouse.
“Should I not be thanking you?”
“No. Your pleasure is my pleasure. Hearing your moans of desire almost made me come in my breeches. Thank goodness I’m not eighteen, and I have some control over that appendage between my legs.”
“Really,” she teased as her hand drifted down and she cupped him. He squirmed away.
“Not that much control, my dear.” He held out his hand. “Come. I do believe we need refreshments after that.”
***
When Spencer first stepped into Miranda’s room and saw her dressed in her gypsy costume he’d nearly dropped to the ground and wept. Never had he seen her look more enchanting, and he still couldn’t believe they were married.
She was his. And he was hers. When his eyes had fallen on her, his body hummed with desire and he really didn’t want to go out. All he wanted to do was strip off her enchanting and enticing clothing and bury himself deep inside her until neither of them could remember their names.
But he had an obligation to his cousin. If any other person was hosting tonight’s masquerade he would have begged off. However, family was important to him. Besides, he wanted to show off his lovely bride. And keep an eye on his two sisters who would also be in attendance. Mary had two Season’s already and Liz one, so Grandmother was allowing them to attend. Even though he fervently wished they were not.
He worried Liz might do something drastic to make Amesbury jealous and end up being on the front page of the scandal rags in the morning. Mary, well he didn’t worry so much about her. She was timid and shy. But still, some less than honorable gentleman could take advantage of her good nature before she even knew what was happing.
Great, now his stomach pained with nerves. Until he looked at his wife again and all thoughts vacated his mind but getting to the ball and hurrying home so he could make love to her.
Aunt Violet was another sight to behold and he wondered what man would fall into her trap this evening. Because, without a doubt, she was dressed to seduce. She did deserve some happiness in her life after what Baker did to her.
Did to her and Miranda. Don’t think about it tonight? He was gone and could never harm Miranda again. So he brushed it off and escorted two lovely ladies to the ball.
While he waltzed with his wife he quickly glanced around the room looking for his grandmother or his sisters. Perhaps they had changed their minds about attending. As long as they were not present, he could give all his attention to the woman in his arms. Half way through the waltz he had to escape. He had to get his hands on his wife. So he escorted her into the dark gardens and pleasured her. He could hardly believe she allowed him to lift her skirts and sink his fingers inside her warm heat.
Hearing her come apart, her hands digging into his arms, her heart pounding against his chest almost caused him to embarrass himself.
Just as he suggested they go inside for refreshments, they were rudely interrupted by a deep, masculine voice he didn’t recognize...at first. When he did, it was too late.
