His Reluctant Lady Read online

  She forgot her rigid stance and melted against him. To her delight, he spent considerable time kissing her. His hand staying on her face, not rushing her into anything she wasn’t ready for. A delightful warmth spread out across her body, making her nipples tighten and the area between her legs ache. She didn’t know why kissing should cause such strange reactions, but she found she enjoyed them.

  She shifted closer to him, aware that doing so made her body spark in excitement. There must be more. Intrigued, she pressed her body against his. For a moment, the feel of his erection made her stiffen, but he wrapped her in his arms and kept kissing her. His fingers caressed her back in a hypnotic manner and she forgot about his erection.

  When his mouth left hers, she let out a soft moan, hardly aware she’d been so vocal but feeling too good to care. He graced her cheek with light kisses and worked his way down to her neck. She shivered in delight. She had no idea it could be like this. Soft and tender. Gentle and loving. It wasn’t something that had to be rushed through.

  His hand cupped her breast and his thumb brushed across her nipple. A spark shot from her nipple to her core, an odd sensation but one she was curious about. He repeated the action and she shifted to make it easier for him. Still kissing her neck, he continued his ministrations, alternating between brief touches to lightly squeezing it. All of it was wonderful. All of it was making her core ache more for him. It was absurd that she should long for him to enter her, but as he teased one breast and then another, she became increasingly aware of her need for him.

  This time when his erection touched her hip, she didn’t shy away from it. There was something overwhelmingly sweet about everything he was doing to her that made her feel safe. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have put up a resistance to exposing herself to anyone, but it was different with him. Different how, she wasn’t sure. She only knew that he cared about her enough to consider her needs before his, and she couldn’t recall a time when anyone did that for her.

  “Agatha,” he whispered.

  Surprised he’d said her name, she opened her eyes. He was still kissing her neck and caressing her breasts so she couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t have to see it to know that making love to her made him feel closer to her. There was something emotional taking place, something she didn’t understand, something that scared and thrilled her at the same time. And she didn’t know how to handle it. It was easier to focus on the physical act they were sharing.

  Closing her eyes, she turned her attention back to his hand which traveled down her stomach then to her abdomen until it settled on the mound of curls between her legs. She parted her legs without any coaxing on his end. He accepted her silent encouragement and brushed the moist folds of her flesh. He didn’t enter her right away but took his time exploring her, tracing the entire area. She squirmed and moaned, the ache growing more insistent the longer he teased her.

  His mouth descended to her breasts, and his tongue centered on the nipple closest to him. She groaned, louder this time, and shifted her hips so that his finger slid into her. Her hands gripping his arms, she moved, encouraging him to go deeper. He obliged and slid another finger in, finding the sensitive area of her core and stroking her.

  All she could do was focus on the pleasure mounting deep in her, her hips rocking to assist him as she murmured for him to keep going. And just when she thought there was nothing he could do to intensify the sensations building in her, he brought his mouth between her legs and licked her sensitive nub. It was soon after that, that she found herself at the edge of release. She grabbed the sheets beneath her and cried out when she reached her peak. He continued to caress her, his movements softer than before but prolonging each wave of pleasure that consumed her.

  When she relaxed her grip on the sheets, he slid his fingers out of her and moved so that he was on top of her. Her body still throbbed from the effects of her climax, and she barely had the strength to pull him toward her. He kissed her, the tip of his arousal at her entrance. She moaned and wiggled closer to him so that his tip dipped into her. She knew he was deliberately tormenting her. Even if she had found her pleasure, she still needed to be filled by him. Groaning, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper until he was all the way in.

  Her nails dug into his arms. It felt wonderful. Absolutely and completely wonderful. He moved, his erection stroking her, bringing her pleasure similar to the way his fingers had. She worked with him, aware that as his thrusting grew more insistent, it was also hurling her toward another orgasm. And when she found her release, he came, his body shuddering with hers.

  Afterwards, they rested in each other’s arms. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d been more content and at peace. She didn’t think she’d ever be reluctant for a gentleman to remove his penis from her, but she experienced a slight twinge of regret for the loss of their intimate contact when he pulled out of her. She expected him to go to his bedchamber but he didn’t. He drew her into his arms, kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes. Unsure of what to do, she watched him until he drifted off to sleep.

  So he was going to stay in her bed for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that she minded. It was just unusual. She couldn’t recall ever hearing of a gentleman doing such a thing with his wife, but even so, it was nice that Christopher chose to. Even if the only reason he stayed was because he was too tired to go to his bedchamber, it was still pleasant to have someone with her, especially someone who held her in a protective embrace. She closed her eyes. And after a while, she was finally able to fall asleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Agatha woke up the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the feel of someone stroking her cheek. The touch was gentle, akin to a breeze gracing her skin. It was soothing, almost to the point where she thought she might go back to sleep, but the erection pressing into her side brought her attention to her husband.

  Without opening her eyes, she asked, “Aren’t you tired?”

  Christopher kissed her. “Why would I be tired?”

  “Well, we did it a couple of times already. In one night,” she added for emphasis.

  “Four to be exact, but who’s counting?” he teased and brought her into his arms. “Are you tired this morning, my love?”

  “No, but then I usually go to bed late. What time is it?”

  “A little after ten.” He kissed her, his tongue tracing her lower lip until she opened her mouth to receive him. Deepening the kiss, he brought his hand to her breast and lightly squeezed it, brushing his thumb over her nipple. “Do you mind if we spend a little more time in bed?”

  Noting the way he lowered his hand so he could wrap one of her legs around his waist, she said, “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

  Not that she minded. Now that she knew it wouldn’t hurt or that he wouldn’t call her by another lady’s name, she could handle this part of being his wife, though she didn’t dare tell him that. It seemed inappropriate to reveal such a thing to him.

  “You always have a choice,” he whispered, his hand cupping her bottom so that he could center his hard shaft against her sensitive nub, an action which made her shiver in pleasure. “I’m just hoping you’ll choose to do this.”

  “Yes, I can feel that,” she murmured, wiggling against him. “I know my duty as your wife.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her bottom. “It’s a duty you seem to enjoy.”

  He saved her from having to answer him by rolling onto his back, taking her with him. Settling his hands on her hips, he encouraged her to rock her hips, moaning as she obeyed his leading. She opened her eyes, chancing a look at him and saw that he had his eyes closed and a slight smile on his face. She liked the way he looked when he was experiencing a mixture of mounting pleasure and blissful contentment. Moving her hips faster, she softly groaned, her body eager to find completion in being with him. Her hair fell over her shoulders, tickling her nipples in a way that further aroused her.

  Her sen
sitive nub stroked his erection, and he encouraged her to establish a rhythm that intensified her pleasure. She didn’t think it was possible, that her body would be so receptive to him, but it was and she tilted her head back and groaned when she climaxed. She stilled, embracing each wave of pleasure as it crashed into her.

  Once the intensity of the moment subsided, he entered her, filling her core, something that she could now allow him to do without the slightest hesitation. She no longer worried that being with him would be similar to what being with her first husband was like, and that meant her wifely duty was no longer something she had to fear. Her body clenched around him and she shifted so he could slide deeper into her.

  He whispered her name and moved his hips beneath her. She watched him as he continued making love to her, knowing he was thinking of her while he was doing this and feeling grateful for it. At one point, he rolled her onto her back and kissed her before he resumed his thrusting, his actions growing more anxious as he continued. She worked with him, doing her part to aid him along until he found completion in the act and filled her womb with his seed. When he collapsed in her arms, she held him to her, her rapid heartbeat matching his.

  When their bodies calmed, he gave her a kiss. “What would you like to do today?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind engaging in my secret activity while in my drawing room.” Especially since he’d inspired the interesting twist to her story without realizing it. Now that she’d figured out the scandal that would force her characters to marry, she had a hard time pulling herself away from writing. “I don’t suppose you’d allow me an hour or two alone?”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to spend some time with me when you’re done?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose I could spare a minute or two.”

  He grinned at her joke and kissed her shoulder. “I’ll take whatever time you give me.” He rolled onto his side and sat up. “I better get out of here so you can engage in your secret activity.” With a glance in her direction, he asked, “Will you share a meal with me first?”

  “Of course.” Before he could take it to mean she wanted to spend time with him, something she couldn’t bring herself to admit, she added, “I’ll be able to focus on what I need to do in the drawing room better after eating.”

  Amused, his eyebrow rose. “Are you trying to tempt me to sneak into your drawing room to find out your secrets?”

  “I’d do no such thing.”

  He leaned over and gave her another kiss before he gathered his robe and headed for the door that connected their bedchambers. Glancing at her as he reached the door, he called out, “Good because I’d hate for you to make it easy for me to solve another mystery about you.”

  Smiling, she got out of bed and rang for her lady’s maid.

  ***

  “Won’t you at least consider it?” Christopher asked.

  Agatha turned her attention from the window of the carriage in time to see the hopeful expression on his face. “I managed through your cousin’s dinner party. Must we have one of our own?”

  “I enjoy dinner parties.”

  “Then talk your cousin into having another one.”

  His shoulders slumped but he didn’t argue with her. She expected him to. At any moment, he’d probably spout off some nonsense about being her husband and that gave him the right to host a dinner party without her consent.

  After a minute passed, he shrugged. “All right.”

  She waited to see if that was the end of the discussion, and when she was assured it was, she fiddled with the reticule resting in her lap. “I don’t like being around a lot of people,” she finally admitted. “I prefer things to be quiet. When I go to balls or dinner parties, it takes a great deal out of me.”

  “You mean you really do get headaches?”

  “I do if the evening goes on to the point where I don’t think it’ll ever end.” She didn’t think he liked hearing that, especially since he was the type of person who seemed to love being around other people. “Some ladies love being the center of attention and hosting balls and parties. I happen to get much more enjoyment out of being alone where I can have peace and quiet. You should have taken the time to find out more about me before you began your pursuit of me.”

  He leaned toward her, his hand cupping her elbow. “If you’re implying I made a mistake in marrying you, you’re wrong. I can’t help but notice from the moment I met you, you’ve done whatever you can to push me away. Will you continue to do so now, even when we shared a wonderful night together?”

  She shifted away from him, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. It was easier to exchange in lighthearted witticisms. “We only did what every married couple must do on their wedding night. We did it because we had to. It was expected of us.”

  He didn’t answer for a long time, and it took all of her willpower not to look at him to gauge his reaction. She wished she could take the words back, but the words were out and there was no retrieving them. Her grip tightened on her reticule and she forced her gaze to the window. Why? Why was it so hard to let anyone close? And why did she have the urge to jump out of the carriage and find a place to hide? The whole time, he kept his touch on her elbow gentle, and she fought the urge to push his hand away.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and tender. “Last night was important, Agatha. It wasn’t something we did just because we were expected to. I don’t know what your first husband did to you, but if he was alive, I’d challenge him to a duel, even if I had to drag him out to the country to do it.”

  She kept her gaze directed at the window, though she didn’t see the shops they were going by. She told herself that his words didn’t have any affect on her, but they did. Christopher wiped the tears from her cheeks, but she pushed his hand away. “Don’t,” she choked and shoved him away and pressed herself against the carriage door, banging on the roof to alert the driver to stop.

  “You don’t have to run from me,” Christopher said, compassion in his tone.

  She couldn’t look at him or acknowledge what he said. Blinking back her tears, she waited for the footman to open the door and hurried out of the carriage before he could help her. It wasn’t until she got lost in the crowd of shoppers in the marketplace that her emotions settled down and she was able to think clearly again. She knew she had to return home at some point and Christopher would be waiting for her. But she couldn’t bring herself to face him right now. For now, she needed to put as much distance between them as possible.

  ***

  “We’re pleased to have you here, of course,” Agatha’s aunt said as she handed Agatha a cup of tea, “but we are curious as to why you came for a visit.”

  Sophie stirred her tea and shot her sister a cautious look. “Is your husband as bad as you feared?”

  Agatha took a sip of the scalding tea, pretending it didn’t burn her tongue. She didn’t know what to tell them. Usually, they visited her. She didn’t make it a habit of stopping by this townhouse. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d been here. But she had nowhere else to go except back home to Christopher and after the way she acted in the carriage by pushing him away, she was too afraid.

  Would he tell her he regretted marrying her? She wasn’t an innocent virgin who saw everything as wonderful. There were some darker parts in her. Maybe she wrote gothic horror because she had to, because it was the only safe outlet she had for the shadows in her past she couldn’t bring herself to confront. She set her cup down and rubbed her forehead. She hated thinking about her first husband. He was dead. She was free of him. But was she really free now that she was married again?

  “You were always a quiet one,” her aunt mused and nibbled on a biscuit. “Always lost in your thoughts. I suppose it can’t be helped. Your father was the same way. I remember how often my brother stared out the window, ignoring the rest of us. But eventually, he settled down with a good lady who taught him to embrace life.”

  Sophie smiled. �
��I wish I could remember them.”

  “Some people are taken before their time,” her aunt replied. “They were good people, the kind who leave a hole in one’s heart after they’re gone.”

  “Well, I’m glad you took me in,” Sophie said, reaching out and clasping her aunt’s hand.

  Agatha watched the exchange and wished she shared the kind of closeness they did. Even if her aunt wasn’t good when it came to finding a suitable husband, her heart was in the right place. Clearing her throat, she added, “Yes, you’ve been good to Sophie.”

  “You two girls were the only consolation I had after the carriage accident.” Her aunt finished her biscuit and turned her gaze to Agatha. “Did you come here to talk or would you rather be alone?”

  She hesitated, unsure of what motive she had for running here, other than the fact that she had to get away from her husband. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted, realizing how daft that sounded as it came out of her mouth.

  “In that case,” her aunt rose to her feet, “why don’t we leave you to your thoughts and you can call for us if you want to talk?”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  They left the room and she released her breath. She’d made a fool of herself in the carriage. Truly, she did. She only hoped that Christopher could overlook her actions. One hour. In one hour, she would go home and talk to him. For the time being, she needed to think of what she’d say when she saw him again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Agatha proceeded up the steps to her townhouse, unaware her pace was slowing until she came to a complete stop two steps away from the door. She could do this. She could apologize to Christopher. All she did was overreact. Surely, that wasn’t the worst thing she could have done. But even as she told herself this, her heartbeat quickened with a sense of dread. What if he laughed at her, dismissed her feelings, or rejected her? This was silly. She married him because she had to protect her reputation. It wasn’t because she cared about him, and since she didn’t care about him, there was no sense in worrying about how he’d respond to her.