Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Twenty-Nine

If this be not love, it is madness,

And then it is pardonable.

– Love for Love by William Congreve, 1695

RELAXED FROM THE BATHJames had ordered, Glynnis wrapped herself in her robe and waited while he took his turn. He’d left the room when she’d stripped off and settled in, but he’d returned to tease her with his eyes, and then with his mouth and hands.

They’d sloshed so much water onto the oilskin that had been placed under the bathtub, he would have very little water for his turn.

When she’d emerged, he had groaned before handing her a towel. Sitting on the end of the bed, she took down her hair, loosening the plaits then combing through them with her fingers.

And then she watched.

Having already removed his riding coat which held most of the road dust as well as his boots, he now stood in the everyday clothing of a gentleman. With his gaze fixed on hers, he stripped off, down to his breeches.

She swallowed, fascinated by his chest and flat nipples, eager to see her first view of a naked man, but also slightly apprehensive.

When he unfastened his breeches, he shook his head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been anxious when undressing before a woman before. But I want you to like everything you see.”

“I understand.” For she felt the same way, hoping she met with his expectations. “I’m sure I will. Besides, I have nothing to compare you to except pictures in books and a statue of Napoleon as Mars.”

That made him laugh, easing the tension, before he slid his breeches down his long, lean legs.

She stared at his manly parts. “You are impressive, my lord, if I had to choose a word.”

“That’s a good word,” he said. “I like it. I’ll be quick in the bath.”

True to his word, James proclaimed his muscles soothed after five minutes, scrubbed himself clean, and rose from the water.

“You still look like a Greek god,” she told him, appreciating every hard plane and firm muscle.

“Mars was a Roman one. But I appreciate the compliment.”

Soaking wet, he stalked toward her and gathered her in his arms.

“Why did you cover yourself with this dressing gown?” He plucked at the neckline as if it were distasteful, but Glynnis simply scooted backward across the counterpane.

“Ruin me,” she said, unable to keep from smiling.

“Gladly.” James unbelted her gown, opening it to reveal her nakedness, before sliding it down her shoulders. The caress of cool air against her damp skin made her shiver.

They spoke no more as he pushed her slowly back onto the coverlet. Glynnis willingly parted her thighs to allow him room to settle between them, his hips against hers.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, pulling him down by his shoulders before closing her eyes when he lowered his mouth to hers.

All her senses magnified so she could hear her own heartbeat while her body tingled with anticipation. On his tongue that slid between her lips, Glynnis tasted the wine they’d shared while waiting for the bath. Gasping when his chest touched her breasts, her lungs filled with the scent of him — not his familiar cologne but the inn’s Pear’s soap.

With her fingers pressing into his smooth bare shoulders, she dared to stroke his tongue in return with the tip of her own.

He groaned, and she felt his shaft twitch against her thigh.

“Hargrove?” she queried at the unfamiliar movement.

He was busy kissing his way down her neck to her breasts. With his mouth on her nipple, he spoke.

“My body is ready to ruin you.”

Opening her eyes, she shivered again.

“But let me play a little first,” he said, then flicked his tongue over her nipple.

She couldn’t help how her hips bucked under him. Threading her fingers into his damp hair, she held his head close until he’d nearly driven her mad with licking and sucking and ... biting! And then he moved to her other nipple.

“A little longer,” he pleaded, “until your body is ready, too.”

Glynnis was beyond ready to do what she’d seen in Lord Dodd’s drawing room. Not only had a pulsing heat branded her body between her legs, but she could feel the dampness of her desire.

“I am ready,” she promised, tugging at his hair.

“Ouch,” he exclaimed.

But she’d got his attention. Lifting his head, he looked down at her, his lovely blue eyes dark with passion.

“I’m ready,” she insisted.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” James murmured quietly. “And it can pain you briefly.”

“How briefly?” she began, then shook her head. “Never mind.” Lifting her hips against him, she confessed, “I have read about the pain. Let’s hurry and get past it.”

His expression softened. “No, we’ll take it slowly, and I promise it will be good.”

True to his word, James guided the tip of his shaft to her opening, but before he penetrated, he settled onto his forearms, staring into her eyes.

“I love your eyes,” he said, pressing his arousal gently inside her.

Glynnis gasped.

“I love your nose, too,” he added, pushing forward inch by inch, stretching her slick channel.

She forgot to breathe, her body quivering while she clasped at his shoulders again as he gradually filled her.

“And your smile, I especially love how your upper lip bows and your lower lip curves.” Finally, he thrust.

Glynnis felt a pang, as if she’d set her little finger to the candle flame, and then the burning sensation ended. However, James remained motionless, his hard length fully sheathed.

“Good?” he asked, his tone husky.

“Yes,” she said. “I think so. What’s next?”

“I pleasure you and try to hang on until you’ve gained your release.”

With that, he drew back, an arousing sensation as her body tried to tug him back. Then he glided easily deep inside her again. While Glynnis thought he did all the work, rocking his hips, thrusting in and pulling back, she silently hung onto his shoulders and closed her eyes.

Her entire world had shrunk to that room in a comfortable inn somewhere between London and Brighton, and to one adorable man who was magically stimulating her body to the peak of release.

“Mm,”she moaned. It took a few minutes, but the heat between them and the way he filled her core and the movement of his manhood back and forth across her sensitive flesh — all of that conspired to make her delightfully light-headed. She gasped for breath, while her body clamored for something just out of reach.

“Please,” she begged, her heart pounding.

“I love you,” James stated softly, reaching between them to stroke her aching nubbin.

She wanted to reply at once, but her muscles tensed as the pressure between her hips built, and then — suddenly — she spent her pleasure, her hips rising over and over to meet him.

At last, she shuddered and stilled, feeling as if she were floating in a warm sea.

“I love you,” she whispered, opening her eyes in time to watch him close his own, arch his neck, and plunge into her as he found his own scorching release.

After he stilled, James lay his forehead down on her shoulder for a few moments before he rolled to the side, resting upon his back.

“Have mercy, sweet Lord,” he muttered. “I am the luckiest man alive.”

Glynnis giggled. “Being ruined was better than I imagined.”

“I don’t believe you can describe yourself as ruined, my love, since we are going to marry.”

Her eyes pricked with tears, thinking of being his wife, and she sniffed.

“Did you ask me to marry you?”

He paused. “No, I don’t believe I did.” Sitting up, he looked down at her. “Glynnis Talbot, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He trailed his finger tip down from her collarbone between her breasts, before resting his palm flat on her stomach. “I long to make you happy every day and to go to bed with you every night and pleasure you.”

“Every night?” she asked, needing to laugh with how much joy was filling her heart.

“And twice on Saturdays,” he added with a wink.

“Twice on any day would be fine.” But she wouldn’t risk him feeling deceived. She must tell him everything. “I have no dowry,” she confessed. “I didn’t mention that before, but I am firmly of the belief it is why I have been left upon the shelf.”

“It is ridiculous you should have felt inferior for even the space of a second,” he said. “On the other hand, those short-sighted men did me a good turn. You are your own dowry, and worth every penny, too. From now on, instead of a shelf, you shall be upon a pedestal, Lady Hargrove.”

She shook her head, unable to take in that she had love and security, both at the same time. And all she had to do was be herself.

“Is it Saturday?” she asked, turning on her side and reaching out for her fiancé.