Page 36 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Chapter Thirty-Four

T hat evening was one of the happiest of Beatrice’s life thus far.

Mr. Gordstone remained banished in his rooms, claiming that he was ill.

And her mother hosted a party of sorts—for herself and Leith and her siblings and Mrs. Westmore. She had the cook make up a dinner that, while not lavish by London standards, was definitely festive at Parkhorne.

Malcolm brought his fiddle and played some of the airs that Mrs. Westmore and her mother liked. And Philip convinced them all to play charades in the drawing room.

Leith participated in it all, without even a shadow of the hauteur she had seen him display upon their first meeting. Instead, he was as warm and fond of everyone as if he had grown up in a little wayside village like theirs.

As the pleasant evening continued, Beatrice thought over his proposal. She was not sure how she could accept it. But she had to admit that she was tempted. That she loved him, she no longer doubted, although she hadn’t told him that fact, yet. And if she agreed to be his wife, it would make her feel less guilty about him paying the debt.

But the thought of leaving Parkhorne made her heart ache. Besides her brief time in London, Parkhorne was her world. And she did not understand how she could leave it. For, if she married Leith, leave it she must. He had his home in London—and his other estates besides. The future that she had imagined for herself, living at Parkhorne with her siblings, would disappear.

She told herself not to worry about such things now. Instead, she enjoyed the sight of Leith delighting her younger brothers with his stories of him and his friends’ escapades. Even Malcom seemed to warm to him.

Sally and Charles joined in the merriment, but it was clear that they were preoccupied with one another. After dinner and then charades, they settled into a corner, their eyes only on one another.

And then Fred Larkin appeared on the other side of the room.

Beatrice’s blood ran cold. She held her breath for the scene that she imagined was about to unfold.

But Fred merely greeted her mother and then walked over to her sister and Charles with a smile.

“You look worried,” Leith said, next to her, as she watched Sally and the two men.

“I am worried. She is supposed to be engaged to Fred. She told me herself! But she has been bedding Charles. I do not understand it.”

“Perhaps she and Fred had some sort of agreement. She thought she would be gone from Somerset for a long while.”

“I suppose it is possible,” she said, watching them all still. “Although I fear that Fred merely has no idea who Charles is to her yet.”

“The young people will sort it out,” Leith said. “And if they don’t—well, they are young enough to recover. Unlike myself.”

She turned back to him, amused by his self-assessment.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, if I lose you, Beatrice, I know I will never recover.”

She tutted, pretending to be exasperated by his devotion, even though, in truth, it flattered and pleased her. “You will not lose me. I am yours.”

“I love to hear you say that. Almost as much as I love you.”

He had her hand now. He rubbed her palm. She sighed into his touch.

“Do you like that?”

“It is heavenly.”

And it was—such a simple gesture and yet no one had ever done anything like that before. He rubbed the tender spot more firmly and she felt tension release from her body.

“It calms you.”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“You carry so much, Beatrice. You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”

She withdrew her hand. It felt too good. And his words were too seductive. They had no solution yet to the problem of Mr. Gordstone other than his money. And it was still a solution that made her uncomfortable. Not to mention what it implied about her future.

“Our trio look very happy,” he said, changing the subject, he was sure, because he sensed her discomfort.

She looked back at Sally and the two men. The men were smiling at each other as if they had been friends for a very long time indeed. That is, when they weren’t each casting adoring looks at Sally.

“I cannot understand it.”

“I am sure one day soon we will hear whatever tale is unfolding.”

“I just hope Sally isn’t getting in over her head.”

“Ah,” said a lilting, feminine voice, from over Beatrice’s shoulder. “Has Sally won herself more than one admirer?”

Beatrice looked up to see her mother. Somehow, she had missed her approach.

“We were only speculating,” Beatrice said. “Being terrible gossips, I’m afraid.”

“Well, Sally deserves it all,” her mother said. “No matter what it is. I was wondering, however, my dear, if I could have a word with you.”

With becoming discretion, Leith stood. “I promised Philip a game of chess,” he said. “I will take this as my cue.”

“Thank you, Lord Leith,” her mother said, with a smile.

“What is it, Mother?” she said, when Leith had gone to Philip.

“I spoke with Daniella—Mrs. Westmore, I mean,” her mother said, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks. Beatrice found herself feeling extremely foolish for having not noticed the special nature of the relationship between the two women before. “And if need be, she is prepared to pay the debt. To Mr. Gordstone.”

Of all the things that she had expected her mother to say, this had not been one of them.

“Does Mrs. Westmore have ten thousand pounds to spare?”

“To spare, not exactly. But she has the money. Mr. Westmore left her a very good fortune and it has increased in the four percents ever since his death. She would be prepared to pay it.”

“That would be quite a favor. I am not sure we could accept it.”

“Well, she is concerned, you see.” Her mother smiled, casting her eyes downward. “That Mr. Gordstone will become too forward with his attentions.”

“There Mrs. Westmore and I share the same concerns.”

“Yes, but—I have never known how quite to tell you, Beatrice. Perhaps it is too shocking. But Daniella and I…” Her mother’s eyes, she could see, were brimming with tears. “We’re such good friends.”

Beatrice reached over and took her mother’s hand. Her mother startled and looked into her face. “I understand, Mama. I really do.”

“You do?”

Beatrice nodded. “I thank Mrs. Westmore for her generous offer. And I acknowledge her right to make it, under the circumstances. I hope it won’t come to that. But it is very much appreciated.”

“Thank you, my dear,” her mother said, wiping a tear off her cheek. “I do not know why I am being so silly.”

“Perhaps because it is a very kind offer. And it shows how much Mrs. Westmore loves you.”

Her mother nodded rapidly and smiled despite her tears.

Beatrice embraced her mother. And she tried to put into that hug all of the love and understanding that she could. She wanted to say, I am glad you are happy . After all of her years of misery with her father, she deserved many more with her Daniella to make up for it.

Later that night, in bed, she relayed her conversation with her mother to Leith.

“Really? And you had no idea before today that Mrs. Westmore was more to your mother than a friend?”

“I know it is ridiculous. Perhaps I did not want to see. But once Malcolm told me, I felt exceedingly foolish. I realized it was obvious. Are you terribly shocked?”

“I may have been untutored in certain things when we met, Beatrice,” he said, with a smile. “But I am far from an innocent. Two women living together in such a fashion is not at all a thing that shocks me. Monty’s sister has a wife—or so all their family considers her.”

Beatrice absorbed that piece of intelligence. “I had no idea.”

“Well, perhaps we have discovered one way in which you are more innocent than myself.”

“Absurd. You have been with many more women than I have men.”

“I suppose that is technically true. But you know what those connections were.”

“I do. And I suppose it is useless to cast myself as too na?ve after today.”

He smiled. “I never would have guessed you would have been such a natural with the riding crop. Although I suppose I did have some sense, because I did buy it.”

Before climbing into bed, they had shared a bath in the large copper tub in the corner of the room. His hair was still damp and it gave her the strange sense of what he must have been like as a boy. Sweet and a little bit bashful. It made her feel all the more tenderly toward him.

“Did you really enjoy it?” she asked. “Being spanked?”

“Beatrice, do you need to ask?”

No, she didn’t. She had seen how much it aroused him.

“I suppose not. I quite enjoyed it myself.”

“I must admit, however,” he said, “that was not the only thing I bought that day.”

She gasped. “We were to buy one thing—and I thought you wouldn’t even do that! And here I am to believe that you bought two ?”

He began laughing and covered his face with his hands.

The sound filled her with glee. When she had first met him, all his smiles had been sneers and he had hardly laughed. And now he laughed before her with abandon.

“I couldn’t decide,” he said. “And so I thought, well, I might as well purchase both.”

“And what is it?”

“You will laugh.”

“Did I laugh at the crop?”

“No, but we were—in the moment.”

“Please, get it.”

He swung up to his feet. She admired the fine lines of his body under his thin nightshirt. He padded into his room and then returned a minute later.

He handed her not one but three things. The first that she grasped was a little bottle of oil, which she understood, from having browsed the same shop, was a lubricant. The second object was a little pamphlet, which explained the various uses of the third object, which appeared to be the main event.

This object was relatively small, made of glass, and shaped roughly like an arrowhead.

She knew what it was, because she had been intrigued by it in the shop. But she had never dreamed Leith would consent to using it.

“I cannot believe you bought this one.”

“Not even after the riding crop?”

She shook her head.

“The pamphlet…it says that it can make a cock feel bigger. I thought you might enjoy—”

“Thomas, you know I have no concerns in that regard. Your cock is perfect.”

“But, nevertheless, you may enjoy it. We may enjoy it.”

“I was more interested in the effects the pamphlet purports this device has on men .”

He blushed. “Well, I did not say I was only interested in one of its uses.”

“How would you like to use it first?”

“You want to use it? Now?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “I want to see how it feels. I have never done anything of the kind.”

“Naughty girl. But I think I should—ah—prepare you.”

“Isn’t that what this is for?” she said, shaking the little bottle of oil.

“Let us employ both methods. I want it to be as good for you as possible.”

Luckily, she was already nude, and she soon had his nightshirt off. They were both completely bare, kissing and writhing against each other, and she felt her core pulse for him.

Then he pinned her down to the bed by her hands and trailed down her body, opening her with his mouth. He teased her until she was wetter than she had ever been and having to stifle her sighs so that she did not alarm anyone else in the house. When he made her come, she bit her own hand to keep from screaming.

Once she was done, he did not stop…but moved lower.

“Thomas!” she startled.

“Shall I stop?”

Beatrice genuinely was not sure.

She had never done that before.

But she supposed she had wanted to experiment.

“No,” she said, exhaling a shaky breath.

And so he continued to her back entrance, wetting her even further.

She shivered at the sensation. It was not quite as direct a pleasure as when he tongued her channel—but it was very arousing.

Then, he sat up, reaching for the plug and the little bottle. She watched as she spread lubricant over the plug and touched it to her back entrance.

“Tell me if it is too much.”

She nodded, compelled by the unusual sensation.

He eased the head of the plug into her and she felt herself stretch to accommodate it. Soon, she felt a strange sensation of fullness.

“How is it?”

“I feel very…full,” she said.

“Is that good?”

She nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”

“I have to say,” he said, panting. “That was very—arousing.”

She looked down and saw that his cock was very erect. He reached down a palmed himself lightly. “Fuck, Beatrice.”

“I’m ready. Please.”

She needed him inside of her for reasons that she couldn’t explain. Part of it was the strange weight of the plug, filling her up, but it was also something else—she needed, she realized, to be that close to him.

He braced himself above her and entered her.

And instantly her breath caught.

“Oh. My.”

“Does it feel good? I am not hurting you, am I?”

She shook her head. “N-no, not at all. Keep going.”

He withdrew and then thrust again. She couldn’t help but cry out.

In the past, when she had bedded men with large cocks, the sensation had been almost uncomfortable. But this sensation was something different altogether. Whereas she had been overwhelmed by the cocks of other men, the combination of Leith and the plug was otherworldly.

“Are you certain it doesn’t hurt you?”

“No, Thomas,” she whined. “Stop worrying. Keep going.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes—it’s—I like it—very much.”

“Ah,” he said, with a smile. “So those were the good kinds of screams?”

Had she screamed ? She supposed she had. A little.

“As flattering as I find your screaming,” he said, his voice low. “I do not want to alarm anyone else in the house. You must keep quiet.”

Their eyes met and she nodded. But she wasn’t at all sure that she would be able to.

He withdrew and thrust again, finding a light, slow rhythm that somehow managed to keep her only at the brink. She bit the pillow to keep herself quiet, but it was very difficult. The feeling rioting through her was unlike any she had ever experienced.

On a particularly deep thrust, she gasped.

“Shh,” he murmured.

“It—is—very—difficult,” she whispered. “I am so close to spending—and yet very far at the same time.”

“What do you need?”

“More,” she said, the pleading in her voice embarrassing even to her own ears.

He quickened his pace and she moved her hand to her mouth, biting her flesh to keep herself from moaning. The pleasure was all-encompassing, never-ending, thrumming over her skin.

“Beatrice, ah,” he said, “I don’t think—I don’t know how much longer I can last. You are so tight and sweet. Fuck.”

“No, please, I need you. I need you,” she begged.

He stilled for a moment, catching his breath.

And then he began moving again, his features contorted with pleasure, and she felt her release nearing.

But she had no idea how she wouldn’t scream.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he said. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

“Oh, Thomas,” she sobbed. “Your cock is so good. You’re so good to me. I love you.”

The last she had not meant to say. It had just come from her lips, unbidden.

But it was too late.

She had said the words—and she was coming, crying out.

He put his hand over her mouth as she did so, stifling the sound.

Once she had gained her self-control, he jerked back, withdrawing from her and spilling all over her thighs and pussy.

When she looked up at him, his amber eyes burned into her.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes. I do. I do love you.”

He gathered her in his arms. “Thank fucking God.”