Back at Radcliffe Manor, more complaining

 

“Do you think we will be snowed-in all day?” Eliza dropped down into a chair. Her light brown hair fluttered around her cherubic face. She pursed her bow lips, staring at the fire. “This is tedious,” she complained. “I want to go out and do something.”

Grayson sighed. “If the snow lets up we can take the sleigh to Ravenhurst.” He gave Isabelle a hopeful look.

“Eliza dear, if we make it to Ravenhurst, I am sure you would be able to stay the night as well.”

“Will Sebastian be there?” Eliza sat forward in the chair.

“Yes, of course he will. It is his home.” Isabelle gave her a curious look. “I think you and Katherine should get along famously,” she continued.

“Wait?” She wrinkled her face. “Who is Katherine?”

“His wife,” said Grayson.

“What?” Her eyes boggled. “When did he get married?” she screeched. “Why did no one tell me of this?” Her already shrill voice raised an octave.

“Dear, when did you meet my nephew?” Isabelle asked even though she didn’t really want to engage Eliza in conversation, but she was curious.

“It was at a ball, sometime ago. He was betrothed to your ward.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh what was her stupid name?”

“Are you speaking of Marguerite?” Isabelle narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, yes, that was it.” She waved her hand. “He couldn’t stand her.”

“How would you know such a thing?” Grayson asked.

“Oh, he told me,” she said, her cheeks brightening with color. “While we were dancing,” she added. Actually he had told her in conservatory outside the house. She smiled at the memory.

Isabelle widened her eyes at Grayson. “She knows him?” she mouthed. Isabelle knew what that look meant, the girl knew her nephew a lot better than she was letting on. Bloody hell!

“What?” he mouthed back. He shook his head. All this eye widening and the moving of lips without words, was bloody difficult to understand.

“What are you two whispering about?” Eliza asked, looking between the two.

“Nothing dear,” Isabelle lied smoothly. “We will bring hot chocolate as well, and of course blankets.” Isabelle stood and walked over to Grayson, placing her hands on his broad shoulders. “Eliza, why do you not go and fetch some of the heavier blankets out of the linen closet,” she suggested to get rid of her so she and Grayson could talk.

“I do not want to.” She threw herself back in the chair and folded her arms.

“Fine,” said Isabelle. “Grayson would you care to help me?” she asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“Yes, I would love to.”

Isabelle released his shoulders and he jumped up.

“Be back in a bit, dear,” said Isabelle, fleeing the room quickly.

Grayson was right on her heels.

Once they were a safe distance away, Isabelle turned. “She knows Sebastian,” she said, lifting her brows.

“I gathered that as well.” He shook his head. “I had no idea she was so…”

“Educated,” Isabelle supplied.

“Yes, I think that is putting it lightly.” He dashed his hand through his hair. “Do you think, they…you know…”

“I have no idea,” she cut him off. It was over and done with now. No need to rehash the past.

“Now what are we going to do?”

“Surely, we cannot bring her to Ravenhurst.”

“Perhaps he has forgotten. It was a long time ago.”

“It is more likely he doesn’t remember her at all. Sebastian was always three sheets to the wind during his betrothal to Marguerite.”

“Well, what can we do? We are expected at Ravenhurst.”

“I could say I have a headache.”

“That will not work,” he said. “She will want to go without you.”

“You are right, of course.” She smoothed her hands down his chest. “Perhaps we can both come down with a headache?”

“I wish.” He gathered her into his arms, and lowered his head, his lips nearly touching hers…

“Uncle…what is taking you so long,” screeched Eliza from the library.

“Bloody hell!” he muttered. “That chit needs to go back to London as soon as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She ran her fingers over the wrinkle in his brow.

“Uncle…”

“Go on,” she sighed. “I will get the blankets.”

“Not so fast.” He grabbed Isabelle again and kissed her deeply. He lifted his head. “We will continue this later,” he promised.

“I cannot wait.” She smiled and reached out, caressing his backside.

“You keep that up and I may have to push you back in that linen closet and have my way with you.”

“That sounds delightful.” Isabelle grabbed at his jacket, pulling him towards the open door.

“Hold on, do not move.” Grayson said giving her a lingering stare and then quickly walked back down the long hallway.

“Eliza, be a dear and go get the other packages out of the room upstairs.”

“That is what servants are for.”

“Now, Eliza, you know I sent the servants home to be with their families for the holiday.”

“What is with you people?” she bristled. “Servants are meant to wait on us for the holidays. They spend time with their families on Boxing Day.”

“Here we do things in a more unconventional manner,” he explained hastily. “Now, do you want another gift or not?”

“I suppose.”

“Well go on then,” he urged, pushing her toward the door.

“Why can you not get them?”

“I have other things to attend to.” The chit was trying his patience.

“Fine,” she said. “Where are they?”

“What?”

“The gifts?” she said.

“Upstairs.”

“Where upstairs?” she asked, turning.

“On the third floor there is a room on the right, I have them in there.”

“The third floor,” she gaped. “That will take me all day.”

“One can only hope,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“I said you may need to make a few trips.”

“A few trips?” She looked appalled at the prospect.

“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “You may have to make a few trips.”

“There better be something good up there,” Eliza grumbled, climbing the stairs.

Grayson waited until she was up the stairs then hurriedly rushed back to Isabelle.

Ducking inside the closet, he shut the door, turning the lock. “Now where were we?”

“I believe you were about to have your way with me,” she reminded him, flirtatiously.

“Yes,” he breathed, pulling her against him. “I am.

He lowered his mouth to hers. “I have wanted to do this all day,” he murmured against her lips, gathering her gown in one hand while slipping the other underneath.

“Oh yes,” she moaned, arching against his hand when he reached her sensitive flesh. His deft fingers worked their magic and within moments he had her frantic for more. “Take these damn clothes off,” she urged, tugging on his jacket.

Not able to slow his raging urgency he removed his hand and released himself. In one fluid motion he thrust inside her velvet confines. “Oh God,” he groaned, holding still. “I’m afraid this will be quick,” he breathed.

“I do not care.” She clasped his broad shoulders, acclimating herself to the sheer size of him. Her lips seeking his, kissing him anywhere she could find bare skin.

He drove into her, making her body pound against the door. “This is not working very well,” he said, trying to hold his hand behind her head so it would not hit the door so hard. He thrust again and could barely stop himself from slipping out. “This is a bloody awkward position.”

“We will just have to be a bit more creative,” she said, unfastening the buttons of his shirt, seeking the soft mat of hair covering his chest. “Let’s move over there,” she suggested.

He looked over his shoulder at the small table in the center of the room for folding linens. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She nodded, lowering her leg when he released it and walked over to the table.

“The table is too small to sit on,” he advised.

“Who says I was planning on sitting?” She gave him a flirtatious smile and lifted her skirts, leaning forward on the table.

“How I love the way you think.” He came up behind her, grasping the soft smooth skin on her hips and then thrust inside again. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she gasped, holding the sides of the table.

“Good.” Squeezing her hips he held her in place and thrust again and again, his hips meeting the soft curve of her buttocks. Reaching forward with one hand he grabbed hold of one of her breasts while toying with her nipples through her gown. Rotating his hips to give her the most pleasure, he thrust again.

“Oh yes,” she moaned. His hand slipped down between her thighs, rubbing her delicate flesh. She bucked back against him.

“That’s right love,” he coaxed, pulling out a bit and then thrusting inside her again, his hard length driving deeper, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Back and forth he switched between toying with her breasts and then moving his hand down to the softness between her thighs, rubbing her faster, harder until she was writhing against him.

Knowing she was close he pumped his hips faster, driving deeper and then slowing, teasing her to prolong the inevitable. Suddenly he thrust back inside.

“Grayson, yes,” she cried out, gripping the table harder, exploding within.

Grayson pumped his hips faster, deeper, gripping her hips tighter, clenching his buttocks. Within moments, he too was throwing his head back, completely enraptured with the release of his own forceful climax.