Free Lady Harriet's Unusual Reward by Em Taylor Page B

fingers burrowing under the back of his waistcoat. He pushed her gown up her thighs until there was enough width to allow him to move between her legs, place his hands on her pert backside and pull her against his hardening flesh. She felt good. She felt as though she was made to be there. He moved his mouth to kiss his way along her jaw and down the column of her neck. He nipped her shoulder, drawing a moan from her and a little thrust of her hips. Oh, Harriet Weatherby was going to be a wonderful, exciting and cooperative bed-partner. He tweaked her nipple and she sucked in a breath. And it was not a good sound. He lifted his head.
    “Your courses are due?”
    Her cheeks flushed a deep red.
    “I do not think that is a suitable…”
    Stephen pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.
    “I have been married. My wife, Sarah—she always had tender breasts the day or two before her courses. Unless you are with child of course.” His lips turned up in a teasing smile and she opened her mouth to protest until she noticed his expression.
    “You brute,” she grumbled.
    “A brute you would have allowed you to undress you and would have made love to you on this desk, no doubt. But I have not agreed to marry you, Harriet. And I do not make a habit of debauching innocents, tempting though you may be.”
    “You were never going to…” she moved her hands as if unsure which euphemism to use. “Take my innocence?”
    “No. I already said I would not.”
    “Then what was this? I thought I had enticed you. I thought you had changed your mind.”
    Stephen ran his fingers through his overly-long hair and stared at her. Her hair was beginning to fall out of its pins, her gown was half buttoned, her skin reddened by his rough chin.
    “I do not know, Harriet. I…” He started to pace. “Since Sarah died things have been grey. It is the only way to describe it. Please do not misunderstand me. I love Phoebe. She is the one piece of sunshine in my life but we do not fully connect. I do not understand girls. Gowns and bonnets and stuff. What the hell do I know about such things? And so despite loving her with all my heart, nothing really has captured my attention. Then you came along. And you brought William and Mary. And by God, it has only been three days but it has been a jolly jape, has it not? I wish I had come to church with you. Taking William to White’s was fun. The site of all those stuffy old lords when William laughed too loudly and spoke about tupping his lass. It is as if you and your family have brought colour to our lives. Phoebe and I can breathe and see and enjoy life.
    And yes, Harriet. I have not touched a woman since Sarah died and I want to touch you. I want to undress you and feel you beneath me and sink into you.
    But is that enough to marry you? I am a sullen old bugger. I was until three days ago at least. I do not want to saddle you with that. I worry this is just a short-term thing and I shall go back to being a misery and seeing life in shades of grey and you shall be stuck with me for life. Harriet, you’re too good for that. You are too vibrant and colourful and full of life for that.
    So to answer your question. This was about me stealing a little something of you without compromising you too much. As a gentleman, I apologise. As a man, I make no apologies and only wish I could have debauched you on the desk.”
    Harriet had stood throughout his speech and listened. She then smoothed the skirt of her gown and presented the little buttons at the back for him to do up. He felt awful. She must hate him now.
    Then she turned around, cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
    “They are so big…” She drew a circle about an inch and a half diameter over her breast. “And a dark rose colour, I suppose. Now, I think we should all go to Gunther’s this afternoon for an ice. I really want one. I do not understand why, but I always want an ice the day before… Well, you know what I mean.