Page 31

T hat night, when Diana entered Harrington’s chamber, she found him sipping a brandy in his dressing gown, staring out the window into the night.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “We did it.”

He responded with a humorless laugh.

Diana pursed her lips. The men had gone fishing all afternoon, and she hadn’t been seated near him at dinner, so they hadn’t had the chance to talk since this morning. She had been expecting to find him in a jubilant mood as they’d managed to find the proverbial needle in the haystack.

Instead, he seemed dour.

Taking him by the shoulder, she turned him to face her. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes were rueful. “I was just thinking that, in light of what the letter turned out to be, you must regret it.”

Diana did not follow. “Regret what?”

He stepped around her, pacing toward the sideboard. “Marrying me,” he said, refilling his glass. “It seemed like an important matter of state when you made the decision. But it turned out to be a recipe for Swedish sweet rolls.”

Never had the words Swedish sweet rolls been spoken with such derision. But at least she understood the reason for his dark mood.

Truly, he was as thick as the mud in Cornwall.

She had been the one to suggest they marry!

She came to his room every night, eager for them to touch and pleasure one another.

And she had made it clear that, if not for the vow forced out of him by her brother, she would want to consummate the marriage, making their union irrevocable.

How was it possible that he had not figured out that she cared for him?

And yet, by all appearances, he had not.

She crossed to him again, taking the glass from his hand before he could raise it to his lips and setting it back on the sideboard.

“Harrington. Look at me.” She waited until he complied with guarded eyes, then took his hand, squeezing it. “I regret nothing.”

He blew out a breath, looking away. “You can’t mean that.”

“And yet, I do.” She tugged him toward the bed and forced him to sit. “I did want to discuss our marriage, though. We need to talk about what we’re going to do once we get back to London.”

He squinted at her. “Do you mean in terms of signing the annulment papers?”

She let out a frustrated huff. “No, I do not mean in terms of signing the annulment papers! I do not want to obtain an annulment, so put that thought out of your head. I mean in terms of where we’re going to live.”

“I’m staying at Astley House.” He cast his eyes toward the ceiling. “Do you see? I don’t even have a house! I can’t properly support a wife, I?—”

Diana cut him off. “I will stay there as well.”

He cast her a skeptical look. “You wouldn’t want to stay at my parents’ house.”

She scooted closer to him. “I don’t see anything improper about it. Your brother, Edward, and his wife, Elissa, stay at Astley House when they are in Town, do they not?”

He screwed up his face. “That’s different. Edward’s the heir. It will be his house one day. Besides, they have one of the larger bedrooms on the first floor. I’m crammed into a tiny room on the second floor.”

The words, I would sleep in worse than that, if it meant I could be with you , were there on her lips . But she sensed he was not yet ready to hear that, so she said, “It will do. At least, until we can arrange to rent a house of our own.”

He jerked back as if he’d been stung. “What do you mean, rent a house of our own?”

“Precisely that,” she continued calmly. “Or we could buy one, if something we really like should come on the market.” She gave him a wry smile. “I can certainly afford it.”

His eyes were fixed on the floor. “But Diana, you don’t want to buy a townhouse. To live”—he swallowed thickly, then added in a soft voice—“with me.”

She took his head between her hand and arm, gently turning him to face her. “Yes, Harrington,” she said softly. “I do.”

Honestly, she was starting to grow concerned.

She was fairly certain that Harrington’s reticence stemmed from the feelings of unworthiness Izzie and Lucy had warned her about.

But what woman could listen to her husband suggest they live apart, even suggest they get an annulment , without it bruising her confidence?

That made what he did next all the sweeter. He grabbed Diana about the waist, hauling her into his lap. She scarcely had time to gasp before his lips came down on hers, hot and eager.

He kissed her until her head spun, then lifted his head. “I can’t believe it.”

Head spinning, she clung to his shoulders for dear life. “Can’t believe what?”

“That you want to go through with it. Our marriage ,” he clarified in response to her dazed look. He laughed, and this time it was full of joy. “I’m the luckiest man in the world!”

“That’s more like it,” she said, threading her fingers into his hair. “Much better than when you were planning our annulment !”

His face turned somber. “That has nothing to do with you. You know that, don’t you?” He made an incredulous sound. “I still can’t believe that you would want to be married to me .”

She laughed. “How many climaxes do you have to give me before you realize that there’s something in this arrangement for me?”

A devilish grin snaked its way across his lips. “Perhaps a few more. Let’s try it and see if I can finally convince myself.”

She laughed as he tossed her back on the bed. He rucked her nightgown up as he came to lie beside her. She lifted her hips, eager to help him. In three swift moves, she was completely bare before him while he was fully dressed, but she liked being bare before him.

He kissed her, letting his hands roam everywhere.

He soon had her squirming on the bed. She let her thighs fall open as a suggestion, but when he slid down her body, he only made it as far as her breasts.

Not that this was a bad thing… at first. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her soft flesh, and she sighed.

He flicked his tongue over her nipples, and she shivered.

He suckled her into his mouth, and she moaned.

But he steadfastly ignored her attempts to push him lower, where she was starting to need him rather desperately.

Finally, when she was trembling with pent-up need, she snapped. “Harrington! Why won’t you touch me between my legs?”

He grinned, unrepentant. “I want to see if I can make you come just by touching your breasts.”

“Not,” she said between pants, “before I murder you. Now put your mouth where it belongs!”

If he minded this high-handed treatment, he gave no sign of it.

In fact, judging by the moan that escaped his lips, one could be forgiven for assuming that he welcomed it.

He slid down, pressing her thighs open and tonguing the little rosebud that was throbbing for him.

Diana was so exquisitely aroused, it took her but a minute before she was crying out for him.

He came up and took her in his arms, and Diana thought she might burst with happiness. They were going to make their fake marriage work—she just knew they were.

Buoyed by this sense of optimism, she finally felt courageous enough to try one of the things she’d seen featured in Harrington’s book of naughty prints.

She sat up enough to kiss him, undressing him as she did. He helped with eager hands, and she soon had him bare. She straddled him, rubbing her slick pussy against the underside of his swollen cock. “Doesn’t that feel good?” she whispered.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he moaned, eyes glazed with pleasure.

“Well, you can’t have it.” She nipped at his ear. “Not yet anyway.”

He groaned aloud, and she felt his cock give an eager pulse between her legs. That was… interesting. He seemed to enjoy being denied.

Filing that information away for future reference, she kissed him again. “But as soon as we get to Town, it’s yours .”

She slid down his body, pressing kisses as she went. Kneeling between his legs, she took his cock in her mouth, sliding her hand up and down his length the way he’d shown her.

But this time, she let her hand trail lower. She paused to caress his sack, then brought her hand to the place just behind it. Gathering her courage, she started to rub him there.

The book of prints had shown an image of a woman doing this, massaging her lover behind his ball sack while sucking his cock.

The caption had said that some men found this exquisitely pleasurable.

As she began rubbing him there, Diana felt a little bit nervous, wondering if her husband would enjoy it and how her attempt at pleasuring him would be received.

He responded with a long, low groan. “Diana! Oh, God , that feels so good! Rub me even harder, darling. Yes, that’s it. Oh, fuck !”

She chanced a glance up at him, and his eyes were hazy with pleasure.

Encouraged, she rubbed him deeper and deeper as he squirmed helplessly on the bed.

As she massaged him, she tightened her lips around his cock, giving him suction, and desperate sounds slipped from his lips.

“Diana!” he gasped. “You’re going to make me… Oh, God … Oh… Oh, fuck !”

She tasted the spurt of his seed in her mouth. She had learned over the past few days to keep pleasuring him, at least for a moment. She saw him through his crisis, then gentled her strokes when his body went tense, finally letting his softening cock slide out of her mouth.

He immediately hauled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. “Thank you. That was amazing . How did you know to do that?”

She smiled. “There was a picture. In that book of naughty prints I told you about.”

Harrington laughed. “Your brother must have the same book that I do. There’s a similar print in mine.”

Diana’s smile faded. Fortunately, Harrington’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t seem to notice her consternation. It made sense that he assumed the book of prints she had stumbled upon belonged to Marcus. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him that it was actually his book she had perused.

She wasn’t quite brave enough to broach the subject tonight.

So instead, she sighed. “You know, I almost never feel sorry for myself for my missing hand. But while I was doing that, I couldn’t help but wish I had two.

That way, I would have had one hand to stroke your cock and another to touch you there. ”

He shook his head. “You’re perfect. I promise you, I could not possibly care less.

But speaking of naughty prints, you’ve reminded me of a rather unusual one I once saw.

It belonged to one of my fellow students from Oxford.

It came from somewhere in the Far East and showed a woman being pleasured by an octopus. ”

Diana squinted at him, certain she had misheard. “An octopus ?”

He laughed. “Yes, an octopus! It had a tentacle for each breast, one to hold down each arm, and one for right here.” He reached between her legs, stroking her in a way that made her shiver.

” There was another pumping inside of her, and another”—he stopped short, clearing his throat.

“Well. Suffice it to say, it was touching her in a lot of places.”

“Gracious.” Having been intimate with Harrington for the past five days, Diana thought she had moved past any sense of missish embarrassment. But she found she was blushing just thinking about this image of an octopus, of all things.

He gave her a tender smile. “My point is, I could have a dozen hands, and I still wouldn’t have enough to touch you everywhere I’d like. I’m the happiest man alive to have your hand on me. I wouldn’t trade you for a thousand octopuses.”

She laughed as she snuggled into his chest. “Good.”

“And I could help if you like. In fact”—his voice took on an eager note—“you could even order me to stroke myself while you’re busy doing other things.”

She studied him, as yet another puzzle piece fit into place. “And you would like that.”

“I would.” He looked a little nervous. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She yawned. “I have an innate talent for ordering people around.”

He murmured something. Diana wasn’t sure, but she thought it might have been, “You certainly do.”

They lapsed into silence. Diana chuckled. “I still think an octopus is an odd choice for this erotic print. I know they only chose it because it has so many arms. But nothing else about it seems particularly arousing.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know. All of those suckers.”

She frowned. “I don’t see what’s arousing about… Wait. Harrington? What are you doing?”

He had extracted himself from her arms, a wicked grin on his face. Without saying a word, he pressed her thighs open, burying his face between her legs.

“Harrington?” She peered at him, confused.

Instead of caressing her with his tongue as he usually did, he had sealed his lips around the little nub between her legs.

“Harrington, what are you… Oh. Oh , that’s…

That’s very… I… I see what you mean. About the…

about the suckers.” It was difficult to form words, as her breath was growing ragged.

“That’s… that’s almost too good. I didn’t know the pleasure could be…

so intense. Oh, God , I… Please don’t stop!

Oh, Harrington! Please keep doing it just like that! You’re… You’re going to make me?—”

It took some time for Diana’s thighs to stop trembling. Harrington’s smile was smug as he crawled up beside her, took her in his arms, and pulled the coverlet over them.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last thought in Diana’s head was that she had a newfound appreciation for octopuses.