Page 19

Preparing for Travel with a Tumble

T wo days later

Arrangements for travel to Memphis and beyond having been made—Will had found a captain with a luxury dhahab?yeh large enough to accommodate their party of nine plus the captain’s daughter who would act as a nurse for Bradley—Stella completed packing her trunk and regarded her husband with a quirked brow.

“I cannot decide if you are happy at the idea of traveling with Lord Bellingham and his family, or if you merely agreed to it out of some sort of sense of obligation,” she said.

Harry paused in his own packing and aimed a look of surprise in her direction. “ Relieved is more like it,” he replied. “There is strength in numbers, and I will admit I am happy I won’t be draining the Everly coffers from last year’s harvest on this excursion alone,” he remarked.

Not only had Will paid the captain and crew up front, but he had located one of his quartermasters from his days in the navy.

The expat had settled in Cairo soon after the wars with Napoleon had ended, using his skills to help provision ships for British diplomats and soldiers making their way to India.

“I’m only having to pay for foodstuffs,” he explained, “which I have reason to believe were a bargain given Bellingham’s former quartermaster is seeing to it.

I admit it is still more than I would have had to pay for only the four of us given they have three boys?—”

“Really, darling, they are young men. You must remember how Alexander eats nearly everything that’s put on the table.”

Harry chuckled. “I do, and I am glad for the company.”

Stella grinned. “Because it is mostly male company?” she countered.

He shrugged. “Can you blame me? After all the years of having Alexander to even out our numbers, I find I miss him.” About to place several folded cravats atop some waistcoats, he added, “Bradley is not yet old enough to side with me during family arguments.”

Tittering, Stella closed her trunk’s lid. “I must admit I enjoy Barbara’s company. She’s not at all like so many of the aristocratic wives I’ve come to avoid in London.”

Harry tossed a sheaf of papers onto the top of his trunk. “What about Lady Forster?”

Stella inhaled softly. “I cannot yet say,” she admitted. At seeing his look of concern, she quickly added, “She’s a lovely girl, but I cannot help but feel a bit intimidated. She’s so… knowledgable . So clever,” she claimed.

“More so than me?” he countered with a chuckle.

Unable to hide her grimace—she rarely had need to lie to her husband—Stella instead merely lifted a shoulder. “Barbara says she is possessed of the ability to remember everything she has ever read or seen in her life. Can you imagine?”

Raising his brows in fascination, Harry said, “I could have used that ability whilst in university,” he murmured.

“Sometimes I wish you had it,” she said softly.

Harry gave a start. “Why do you say it like that?” he asked, immediately on the defensive.

Stella tilted her had to one side. “There are times when I think you don’t remember our past,” she murmured.

“Oh, but I do,” he insisted. “But I hardly think you would wish to remember it all.” When she lifted a brow as if to encourage him to share, he added, “For example, I stepped on your toes during our first dance.”

“That you did,” she acknowledged.

“And then the next time we met, you were…” Here he swallowed. “Aphrodite. Rising out of the Aegean, wearing little more than a scrap of fabric.” He made a growling sound in his throat. “I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.”

A blush colored her face, but Stella arched an elegant brow. “I shall never forget the look on your face that day,” she whispered.

About to respond, Harry clamped his mouth shut and swallowed.

He glanced at the door and then at the bed.

Even before he had a chance to ask if she might join him there, Stella was up and in his arms, her fingers quickly undoing the fastening of his pantaloons.

A second later, and she grasped his hardening member, brushing her thumb over the bulbous tip in a move she had done over a hundred times.

“Should I remove your gown?” he asked, breathless with excitement.

“Only the skirt,” she replied, rather enjoying his expression of lust. She used her free hand to push his pantaloons from his waist, grinning when they fell on their own as he attempted to kick off his shoes.

Meanwhile, Harry fumbled with the fastening at her waist, and before the skirt had loosened its hold on her, he had the ties to her petticoats undone.

The bell skirt and its support dropped to the floor in a whoosh .

“I am so glad you haven’t adopted wearing drawers,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands lifting the hem of her chemise.

“I never will,” she assured him.

He had her backed up to the bed, following her down as she lifted her knees to his thighs.

“As much as I want you right now, I think it best I pay some heed to a particular spot between your luscious thighs,” he murmured.

Stella gave a start when he was no longer atop her but had slid down the side of the bed until his knees hit the carpeted floor.

She expected him to put voice to a grunt or a curse, but not a sound of discomfort could be heard from him as he gripped her ankles in his hands and placed them over his shoulders.

Then his head moved between her thighs and Stella knew he was as lost as she would soon be.

He wasted no time with teasing or tasting her, for his tongue entered her before retreating to allow his lips to suckle her engorged womanhood.

“Harry!” she whispered in surprise, unable to move given how he had her hips pinned with his hands.

Forced to simply accept the delight his tongue and lips caused, the sharp darts combining with rolling waves of pleasure made her beg for more even as she feared she might faint from the intensity.

A soft chuckle sounded in response from between her legs.

“If you’re feeling proud of yourself, you should be,” she whispered on a giggle.

“You liked that, did you?” he countered, rising to his feet but grasping her ankles to keep them against the front of his shoulders. His manhood jutted out, the tip brushing against her quim before finding her entry.

“You know I did, but… oh !” she cried out, his cock filling her in a single thrust. His hands had once again moved to her hips, holding them in place lest his thrusts push her too far back on the bed.

“Damn, but you feel good, my lady,” he whispered hoarsely, his thrusts settling into a rhythm as old as time.

“We’ve not done it like this since… oh !” she replied, well aware he was near to his release. He had moved a thumb to where their bodies met, the pad brushing against her quim in exactly the right spot to send her over the edge of yet another orgasm.

“Before Bradley was born,” he finished for her, his eyes squeezed shut as his body spasmed. A growl sounded from his throat as he threw back his head.

Stella watched as all the life seemed to drain from him, the post-coital exhaustion soon forcing him to give up his hold on her ankles so she could roll to one side and allow him to fall onto the bed.

Once he was settled next to her, she sighed.

“I remember the first time we did it that way,” she said, grinning.

“I was pregnant with Alexander, and I was growing so round.” She glanced over at him, her grin widening into a smile when it appeared he was already passed out.

“You thought I would take a mistress,” he whispered, his eyes still closed. “That I would think you were no longer the most beautiful woman in the entire world.”

Stella inhaled softly. “Harry,” she whispered.

“I still do, my Aphrodite.”

Leaning over to place a kiss on one of his eyelids, she allowed a long sigh.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes opening to display his concern. He moved farther up onto the bed, pulling her along with him until their entire bodies were atop the bed. “Something has been troubling you ever since we left London. Out with it.”

Stella shook her head in the small of his shoulder. “I fear Helen will end up a spinster,” she said, angling her head to see his reaction. She had put voice to the same concern many times, but never like this, when she was in his arms and had his undivided attention.

“Why?”

Her eyes widening at hearing the simple query, she said, “Because I’m half Greek,” she blurted.

His burst of laughter was most unexpected.

“Harry,” she scolded.

Sobering, he inhaled and held his breath a moment. “I know your mother was not held in high regard despite being married to a duke,” he admitted. “And it didn’t help that Westhaven had an avocation that kept him away from London for years at a time,” he added softly.

Alexander, Duke of Westhaven, had been an archaeologist, his search for Greek artifacts taking him to many of the islands in the Aegean. He had found his own Aphrodite on Mykonos and married her despite knowing he would face censure from the aristocracy back in London upon his return.

“But I rather doubt most even remember your mother these days.”

“They don’t have to,” Stella whispered. “They need only look at me to?—”

“Feel profound jealousy at seeing your beauty,” he said, arching a brow as if daring her to counter his claim.

“You bounder,” she said on a sigh.

“I know Helen isn’t as gorgeous as you are, but I expect she’ll exhibit an elegant beauty as she ages,” he said in a soft voice. “But she’ll be wed and have several children of her own long before that.”

Stella gasped. “What makes you say that?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “Haven’t you noticed how Thomas Forster looks at her?” he countered.

“With derision, you mean?”

Lifting himself onto an elbow, which sent her rolling onto her back, Harry stared down at his wife in disbelief for a moment. “Derision?” he repeated. “What makes you say that?”

She allowed a sound of disbelief. “I watched him while we were riding the camels. I saw how he looked at her during dinner. It’s as if he cannot abide being in the same room with her.”

Harry seemed to think about her examples for a moment before he shook his head. “First of all, it was quite obvious he was jealous of our guide’s regard for Helen,” he claimed. “And Salman knew it, I think. He was practically goading Thomas to do something.”

“That’s what you thought?” Stella asked in surprise.

Harry nodded. “He’s also rather jealous of Bradley, although I haven’t quite sorted why, other than he desires her attentions for himself.”

Staring at her husband as if he had grown horns, Stella gave his words a good deal of thought before she settled her head back into the pillow.

“She does spend a good deal of time with Bradley,” she murmured.

“She’ll be a most excellent sister when he’s older, I think.

That is, if she’s still living with us.”

Harry grunted. “She’s behaves as if she’s his mother ,” he commented.

Inhaling sharply, Stella stared at him. “Are you saying she is a better mother to him than I?”

He shook his head. “Not at all,” he quickly countered. “Only that if someone saw them together and didn’t know any better, they might assume she was his mother.”

Stella gave his words some thought before she suddenly gasped. “Do you suppose Thomas?—?”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “But you’re not going to say anything to him,” he added before she had a chance to finish her query.

She scoffed softly. “Why ever not?”

Harry chuckled. “I might be wrong,” he replied. “But if I’m not, I think I will enjoy watching the young man decide whether or not he has true feelings for our daughter.”

“Harry,” she gently scolded.

“Let him squirm a bit,” he said, ignoring her rebuke. “We’ll be on the same boat together going up the Nile. There will be plenty of time for him to show himself.”

Stella remained quiet for several seconds before she said, “What if he doesn’t? Have any feelings for her, I mean?”

Harry lifted a shoulder in the pillow. “Someone else will, my sweet. She’s a duke’s granddaughter. An earl’s daughter,” he went on, as if lineage alone would be enough to secure a match.

Maybe lineage would have been enough back when he and Stella had met and married.

He knew of many marriages of convenience.

He also knew the partnerships didn’t always lead to a loving relationship.

He supposed that’s why men hired mistresses and wives were allowed their own lovers once the heir and spare had been born.

Marriages of late seemed far different. As if this generation of young people had decided love matches were more important than politics or business or personal fortunes.

“ My daughter,” he whispered suddenly. “She’s worthy of the very best match, dammit.”

Rather relieved he seemed to have more confidence in the matter of Helen’s desirability than she did, Stella settled her head back into the small of his shoulder and had just closed her eyes when she remembered they were supposed to be departing the riad .

“We have to dress, darling,” she said, rising from the bed. “We’ll be leaving at any moment.” She turned to discover Harry snoring softly.

Sighing, she pulled on her skirts and was glad when Harry awoke on his own and resumed what they had been doing before carnal thoughts had interrupted their preparations.

Remembering his comments about the younger Forster boy, she couldn’t help but grin.

Perhaps there was a young man who would fall in love with Helen.

Perhaps he already had.