Chapter 25

 

 

Brooke would always wonder how she made it back to her room. Her eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill, but somehow didn’t flow until she reached her bedchamber and closed the door tightly behind her.

She wearily made her way to her bed and threw herself down on top of the counterpane. How had her life come to this? One minute she was being held and caressed by a gentle and loving Andrew, then not ten minutes later, he was rejecting her as his wife. All the while, everyone in the house thought she was a fallen woman.

Going back home seemed the only option she had left. She could start over without this hanging over her head. It was clear that if she stayed, Andrew had no intention to marry her and nobody else would want to marry her if they knew about this. Which, of course, they would. Oh, why did that dreadful woman have to show up? Why could she not have come five minutes later, when her gown was buttoned and hair was up? And why on earth did Lady Algen of all people have an interest in Astronomy?

How would she explain this to her sisters? How would she face Papa and Mama tomorrow bearing the shame of them thinking of her as a shameless wanton? Would they ever forgive her this or would they hold it over her head?

Way too many thoughts and questions flooded her head before she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Brooke awoke the following morning to loud voice outside her door.

“Move out of my way,” a voice that sounded like Andrew’s boomed.

“No.” That voice she recognized as Mama’s.

“You’ve done enough. If you think I’m going let you in there for one final romp, you are greatly mistaken, young man,” Papa yelled.

“Have a care for your daughter and keep your voice down,” Andrew said tightly.

“Why all the sudden do you have such interest in our daughter?” Papa demanded.

“Because she is to be my countess and I will not allow any gossip spread about her,” Andrew stated as if he were reciting a well known fact.

She heard Mama squeal with delight and Papa mumble something inaudible; knowing Papa it probably was a watered down curse he was known to say in times of great frustration.

“Now that you know my intentions, please step aside,” Andrew said.

Brooke froze. Was he going to come in her room now? She was still wearing her gown from last night. Her hair was a rat’s nest; she wouldn’t be surprised in the least if there really was a rodent in it at this point. She was sure without having to look in a mirror that her face was not a picture of beauty with her skin all red and eyes puffy from crying. She was not presentable, especially for her potential groom.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her potential groom. Just last night he didn’t want to marry her and now he did. Why? What changed?

That thought brought her back from her daydream. Why was he really here?

Heedless to her scary appearance, she walked to the door and swung it open. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.

Four sets of eyes locked on her haphazard form. Mama gasped when she saw her and quickly tried to cover it up with a cough. Papa’s mouth dropped open, then he closed it with the audible snap as his teeth met. Her eyes met with Andrew’s. His eyes held a hint of humor, but he merely raised an eyebrow at her. Then she heard a slight cough and jerked her gaze over to the right, and was greeted by the sight of Mr. Grimes. “Perhaps this conversation should wait? Will you be….er…presentable within a half hour?” he asked quietly, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes,” Brooke answered shyly, then closed her door.

After she shut the door she began to take her gown off as quickly as she could, and thought she should ring for a bath, but quickly dismissed the idea because she had only a half hour to be dressed and downstairs. That only gave her time to change gowns, and try to pick out as many twigs from her hair as she possibly could just to get it up in her coiffure again.

She had successfully removed her gown and was looking for another when Mama let herself in.

“You’ll need to wear something very special for your engagement,” she exclaimed.

Peeking around the corner of her wardrobe, Brooke took in her Mama’s face. She looked so happy. “Why are you so happy?” she asked.

“Because my daughter is going to be married, without delay I expect, to a gentleman of rank, and you must admit, he’s rather good looking.”

Brooke shrugged. Andrew wasn’t that good looking. By no means was he ugly, but she still stuck to her original opinion. He was not the dashing knight that young girls dreamed of, but to some women he would be considered handsome. She fell firmly in that category.

“Who cares about his rank, he’s only marrying me because he feels it’s his duty. He doesn't want to marry me,” she said dully.

“That’s not true,” Mama protested. “I’ve seen the way you two are together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those secret smiles and looks exchanged between the two of you.”

Brooke blushed. Was she so obvious? “All right, I admit it, I have feelings for him. But I don’t think he returns them.”

“They'll come,” Mama assured her. “Does it matter so much if he doesn’t feel as strongly for you as you do for him? He will, and in the meantime, think of the great life you will live. You will have one of the top positions in society and will be invited everywhere. The scandal surrounding your wedding will pass in time. I know some harsh things were said and done last night, but the truth is, returning home isn’t really an option just, you know that. ”

“I suppose you’re right,” Brooke conceded, taking out an ice blue gown from her wardrobe.

“That is truly beautiful,” Mama said, helping her put it on. Mama quickly took charge of fastening the buttons on the back. “Brooke, I don’t know how to approach this, but we may not have any other time alone.”

“Yes?”

“Last night, did you…did the earl…umm…do you need me to explain anything?” Mama stammered in an uneasy voice.

“No, I don’t think so,” Brooke replied, absolutely uncertain what on earth Mama was speaking of. Looking in her mirror, she saw a strange look on Mama’s face, but she wasn’t sure what it meant because it was gone in a second.

“In that case, I guess my job just got a little easier.” She flashed a bright smile. “Now about this mess…” she said, trying to bring a brush through Brooke’s tangled hair.

It took a quarter of an hour longer than anticipated for Brooke to be presentable. Walking down to where the men were waiting in the library, Brooke was a bundle of nerves. She wanted to marry Andrew. She’d decided several days ago that if he were to propose she would accept. But under the circumstances, she wanted to ask a few questions first. The first of which would be why he wanted to marry her. Was it duty? Honor? Had he been guilted into it? Or did he truly care for her?

Upon entering the library, Brooke noticed Andrew’s state of disarray. He was wet. Soaked to be exact. And where he was standing, a puddle had formed on the carpet. A quick glance out the window behind him told her it was storming outside. When had he gone outside, she wondered. Not only was he wet, his hair looked like a windstorm had blown it about. His clothes were dirty, and ironically the same ones he’d worn the night before. A little giggle escaped her at the thought.

In response to her giggle, Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that everyone was so horrified over my splendid ensemble earlier but no one, myself included, noticed yours,” she said, gesturing to his torn clothes, messy hair, and wet body.

“Indeed, you are correct. They were so intent to stop me from seeing you that they said naught about how I was dressed. I would have changed when you did, but I find my belongings have mysteriously disappeared from my room.”

Papa let out an uncomfortable cough and patted his chest. “Excuse me.”

“Shall I translate that for you?” Brooke asked Andrew. “That’s what Papa does when he gets uncomfortable, typically because he’s just been caught after he did something wrong. I would wager, if I were the kind of woman who wagers, that your belongings have probably been burned.”

“Burned?” Andrew said hollowly. The look on his face indicated he sorely hoped she was jesting.

“No, not burned,” Papa interrupted. “You will find all of your things when you get back to London. I exercised what little power I have in England and I asked my brother, the baron and your host, to please have your things removed post haste.”

“I see,” Andrew said, though he looked like he didn't see at all.

“That’s immaterial. What do you have to say to Brooke?” Papa said harshly.

Andrew came forward and dropped to one knee right there before everyone in the room. “Brooke, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Brooke looked into his eyes. During their brief association, she'd come to be able to read him just by looking in his eyes. He didn’t laugh or smile as much as she did, but his eyes changed colors and looked brighter when he was amused or thought something humorous. She had seen them darken on a few occasions, indicating what she thought to be desire. She’d also seen them look hard as steel when he was upset or determined, like last night. How they looked currently was the only mood she couldn’t read. They were impassive. Showing neither happiness, sadness, desire, nor determination. She had seen this look but a handful of times, like when they first met or when they first arrived at the museum.

“Why?” she queried.

“I think it should be obvious. I have a need for a wife and you have a need for a husband. Certain circumstances have come up that make it convenient that we make a match.”

Those weren’t the words of love she so dearly longed to hear, but what he said was true. They both required a spouse, and after this, she would be hard pressed to find one. She sighed. At least he had only said, “circumstance that make it convenient” rather than coming out and saying he felt honor bound, or it was his duty to either for causing her ruination or duty for him to produce an heir.

“All right, I'll be your wife,” Brooke said with a tight smile.

Andrew quickly rose to his feet and waved to Mr. Grimes in the corner. “Paul, are you ready?”

“Indeed, my lord.” Mr. Grimes walked over to where Brooke and Andrew stood in the drawing room.

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked Andrew.

“Our wedding,” he said, then reached in his breast pocket and removed a wet special license from his pocket.

“Right now?” she asked, shocked. “But why here, why now?”

“I thought it would be best to marry quietly and depart the house party this morning in order to put a stop to the gossip.”

He was right of course. So much for girlhood dreams of a big fancy wedding. “Can we ask my sisters to join us?” she asked nervously.

“You’re quite right,” Papa said before anyone else could speak.

Within moments Madison, Liberty, Alex and Edward and Regina were summoned to bear witness to their ceremony.

All too quickly it was over; she was married and being hastily escorted out of the room by her husband.

On their way out the door, they were almost run over by Mr. Grimes, who was walking as fast as his legs could carry him, probably trying to get away from Liberty, Brooke thought with a wry smile. A lot of people didn’t understand Liberty, that was for sure, but she had never seen anyone with such a strong case of dislike for her, it almost rivaled Liberty’s own dislike for him. Almost, but not quite.

Outside, Andrew’s carriage was waiting to take them away. Brooke climbed inside and waved goodbye to her family as they rolled down the road.

“Where are we going?” Brooke asked after a while.

“Rockhurst,” Andrew said simply.

Judging by how Andrew was sitting, Brooke assumed he was in no mood for conversation. She wondered why that was. They had just gotten married, and prior to that he was in a good mood. What had changed?

She looked in his eyes, and there she saw it, a distant, lost, almost cold look in their depths. Did he regret marrying her only fifteen minutes after they said their vows? Did this mean he had only gone through with it because of honor?

Right then and there, Brooke decided she was going to make him happy and come to love her. No matter what she had to do to change his feelings for her, she would do it.

It took an hour to get to Rockhurst. When they rolled up, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped a little. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s the seat of the earldom, so of course it has to be well kept and attended properly,” he said bitterly.

Paying him no mind, Brooke continued to ogle the estate. It was huge. In the middle was a large house that was three stories. It was made of a heavily textured dark brown brick. The windows on the upper two floors were tall and slim, the ones on the bottom floor were huge, but there were only a few. “It looks medieval, like a castle,” she said without thinking.

“At one time it was. There have been many renovations over the generations, but some of the original castle still stands. That’s why the windows on the upper floors are tall and slim. Archers would stand there and fire out.” He offered no further information.

Brooke looked out in amazement. It must have been a great adventure to grow up here, she thought.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt and Brooke was nearly thrown from her seat. Andrew’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her regain her seat.

“Yes.”

As soon as she readjusted herself in her seat, the carriage door swung open and a footman let the stairs down for them.

Andrew climbed down and reached up to help Brooke descend from the carriage. She took his arm and together they walked toward the house where two servants were assembled to greet them.

“This is my wife, the new countess, your new mistress,” he said unceremoniously and gestured to Brooke. “These are my servants,” he said with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Then he led her to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Cleansweep, I trust you can show her around. I’m off to bed. When you’re done, you can show her to the countess rooms.” He shifted his gaze to Brooke. “I’ll join you for dinner.”

On his way inside the house, a tall manservant dressed impeccably in solid black, whispered something to Andrew. Brooke strained to hear what he said, but the only word she picked up was: friend. Andrew’s face grew dark during the conversation and Brooke began to realize that whoever they were speaking about was not just a casual friend such as Alex, but probably his mistress.

She felt like she was going to faint. Of course he had a mistress, she reminded herself, all men, save Papa, had one. She tried to strengthen her resolve and gave the housekeeper a tight smile, hoping it would not be too transparent, while in the back of her mind she vowed she would get rid of this mistress—immediately. She knew she couldn’t demand it of him, but she could beguile him enough he’d dismiss her on his own.

“Mrs. Cleansweep, it is a pleasure to meet you, and I would like very much for you to show me around. I fear I'd get lost if I had to navigate it on my own.”

Mrs. Cleansweep quickly introduced her to the other servants. There was Rawlings, who worked as the coachman and did outside footman duties. Next was Stevens, he acted as the butler and did inside footman duties. Mrs. Cleansweep explained that she was the housekeeper and cook.

They took a tour of the house, stopping in all the common rooms to look around. The house was amazing. When at last they had reached the far end of the eastern wing of the second floor Mrs. Cleansweep opened the door. “This is your room. I do apologize it has not been aired for sometime. I was not expecting his lordship to marry, and it has been a while since the dowager countess used this room.”

Brooke walked in and looked around. The room was a little stuffy, just as she had expected. She saw it had recently been dusted, probably this morning, and the windows were opened as far as they could go to allow the room to ventilate.

In the middle there was a large four poster bed. Brooke ran her hand up one of the posts and sat on the feather mattress. On one side of the bed there was a small night table that held a lamp stand with three candles in it. There was a little drawer in the side of table. Brooke pulled open to reveal two books that must have belonged to the dowager countess, she coughed from the dust and slid the drawer back into place.

In the corner was a large wardrobe made of a beautiful dark wood that matched the bed. Next to it was a vanity table that had a water basin and pitcher. The vanity was large enough to display her brushes and combs and toward the back of it was a small round mirror. To the side of the vanity table was a full sized standing mirror that had a hairline crack going down the length of the glass.

She glanced to the other side of bed and noticed a small writing desk positioned beneath one of the windows. She walked away from the mirror and went to the door she saw in the middle of the wall.

When she put her hand on the doorknob, Mrs. Cleansweep cleared her throat. Brooke’s gazed shot to hers and Mrs. Cleansweep said bluntly, “That’s the connecting door to the master’s room. I imagine he’ll come through it soon enough.”

Brooke blushed before removing her hand from the door.

“If there is nothing else, my lady, I need to be about my duties,” Mrs. Cleansweep said.

“Just one question,” Brooke said, walking to the desk across the room. When she reached the desk, she pulled out a stack of yellowed paper and eyed it curiously. “How long has it been since this room was last occupied?”

“Nearly thirty years ago, but for only one night. Before that, maybe twenty,” Mrs. Cleansweep said in a low tone.

It had been nearly fifty years since this room had a regular inhabitant. Why? Wasn’t Andrew’s mother still living? “One night?” she asked the housekeeper who had not left yet.

“Yes. The late earl brought his bride here after their wedding, and the next afternoon he sent her away to Essex. She lived until a few months ago.”

Brooke nodded. Andrew had told her that much the day of their picnic. He told her something had caused his parents to live separate lives, but even he didn’t know what it was. “What happened a few months ago?” Brooke asked, knowing she had told the housekeeper she was only going to ask one question.

“The estate in Essex had to be sold. For lack of anywhere else to live, she now lives here. Not to worry, she stays on the third floor. I can’t imagine this place has any happy memories for either her or Lord Townson.”

“I see. Thank you, you may go now.” Brooke took a seat on the chair by the desk and started to think about what the housekeeper told her. Was that why he had such a distant look on his face on the way over? Did it have nothing to do with her, but rather where they were going? If that was the reason, that could easily be fixed.

Brooke walked around the room again. This time she looked out one of the windows to see the view and saw a large pond. Looking out the other window, she could see a horse stable. Maybe they could go on a ride tomorrow, she thought with a wistful smile as she remember their ride and picnic earlier in the week.

Walking back to the bed, she laid down in hopes of taking a quick nap. She’d had a long night last night and a very eventful day so far.

Some time later there was a swift rap on her door.

Rolling over and standing up, she mumbled, “No rest for the weary,” before glancing at the clock on the shelf in the corner. Was it possible she had been asleep for more than four hours?

Resisting the urge to stop and look in the mirror to see what a mess her hair was, Brooke went over to the door and cautiously opened it.

Stevens greeted her with a low bow. “Dinner will be served in quarter of an hour, my lady. I was asked to invite you to the drawing room until dinner is announced.”

Brooke nodded and followed him down the hall. All thoughts of the state of her hair and gown neglected. Her thoughts were now occupied with Andrew. What would he wear? Would he be glad to see her at the table? Obviously he wanted her presence or he wouldn’t have sent for her. What would they talk about at dinner? What would they do after dinner? Would he visit her room tonight? A shiver ran through her just thinking about it.

She was not disappointed when she reached the drawing room. Andrew was waiting for her by the fireplace. He was dressed up in some of the finest clothes she'd seen him wear. He wore solid black except a white shirt and an emerald pin in white his cravat. With his dark hair slicked back, he looked magnificent.

“Join me,” he invited, gesturing toward a settee next to where he stood.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking around the room. “Is your mother going to join us tonight?”

Andrew’s head snapped in her direction at the mention of her mother. Was she not supposed to know his mother lived there? Brooke thought she saw his eyes flicker with some emotion she didn’t recognize. Then he shook his head. “No, she takes her meals in her room. Have you met her?”

“No. I thought it would be best if you to introduce us.”

Andrew nodded. “I'll introduce you tomorrow. Tonight, you're all mine.” His eyes held a wicked gleam.

Brooke blushed and wondered if that meant he would indeed be visiting her room tonight. She remembered his kisses and caresses from the night before and hoped he would do that again tonight; this time she wouldn’t stop him.

Andrew must have read her thoughts because he chuckled. “Like the idea of that, do you?”

Brooke could feel her face grow warmer, and began to restlessly look around the room.

They sat for only a few minutes before Stevens walked in. “Dinner is ready, my lord.”

Andrew offered Brooke his arm and together they walked into the dining room.

“For the lovely bride and her groom, only the best food in the house,” Stevens said, gesturing to the sideboard where the food was waiting for him to serve it.

Brooke had never seen such a shabby meal. Only four bland and paltry courses were served. The first was a salad made with slightly brown lettuce and soggy tomatoes, nothing else. The second course was stewed cabbage. It smelled awful and tasted worse, but judging by the size of the portion and the way Andrew was eating, she ate every bite. The third, and largest, was a potato, just a little baked potato with a small pat of butter. Dessert was the final course; it was nothing more than just a couple spoonfuls of custard.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t afford a wife,” Brooke teased without thinking it insulting or vulgar to discuss a man’s money with him, at the dining table in his house no less.

“I tried to warn you,” Andrew said with a wry smile. “It's too late to cry off now.”

“What of an annulment?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“That possibility will be out of the question within the hour if I have my way.”

Brooke felt her skin grow warm. Did he mean what she thought he did? They were going to have marital relations, whatever those were, in less than hour? How could that be, she had no idea what she was to do, her mother never had the talk with her that she was supposed to before her wedding.

A nervous giggle ripped through her as she suddenly understood what Mama had tried to ask her earlier.

“I assure you, it’s no laughing matter,” Andrew said with a sweet smile on his lips. He scooted his chair back and came to Brooke’s side. “Lady Townson, would you like me to escort you to your room?”

Brooke understood his question held a dual meaning. There was the obvious meaning, him asking to escort her upstairs. But there was a hidden meaning as well. He was also asking her permission if he could share her bed.

“Yes,” she said nervously, biting her lip.

Andrew reached out with his thumb and ran it along her lip causing her to release it from her teeth. “No need to be so nervous,” he murmured, then helped her out of her seat.

As they walked up the stairs, Brooke could not help but peeking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. Was this how all brides felt on their wedding night? Nervous with a hint of excitement.

As they reached the end of the hall and her door was in sight, she slowed her steps, causing Andrew to slow his to match. “I know this all seems rather sudden, so if you’re not ready, we can wait,” he whispered quietly.

“I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

Andrew stopped walking and brought his hands up to her face. Cupping her chin, he bent down so his lips were so close to touching hers she could almost feel them. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Then he pressed his lips to hers in such a reverent way she knew he meant to keep his promise.

His hands caressed her face, while his lips caressed her lips. “I love kissing you,” he said against her lips.

Brooke soared on hearing those words. They may not be “I love you”, but they were close enough. If he loved something about her, such as kissing, it was a step in the right direction to winning his love and getting him to abandon his mistress.

Brooke gasped against his mouth when she felt his hands sliding down her body, settling against her ribs and right below her breasts. She loved it when he touched her there. She couldn’t explain why, but when Andrew touched her there it felt like sparks were flying through her body.

Leaving her ribs, he moved his hands to the top of her bodice and gently tried to pull it down, exposing the very tops of her breasts.

Andrew ceased kissing her and took hold of her hand. With a small squeeze and a gentle tug, he led her to her room. When they were both inside, he shut the door with a loud thud then took her mouth again as they stumbled together to the bed.

He broke their kiss and looked at her with a consuming gaze. “You’re so beautiful, Brooke,” he rasped before he reached for her gown again and started unfastening the buttons that ran down the back. With only half of the buttons undone, he moved his hands to grip the sleeves and in one swift tug, he pulled her gown down, causing it to fall into a pile on the floor.

Brooke looked down at what clothes remained. Only a few scraps of clothing now stood in the way of her being completely exposed to his hungry gaze.

Stepping closer, Andrew grabbed the straps to her chemise and went to pull them down over her shoulders, but Brooke grabbed his wrist to stay him. “You first,” she said shakily. When he didn’t make a move to remove his hand or step back from her, she gave his chest a gentle push.

Andrew took a step back and grunted. His hands flew to his front and he quickly removed his coat, cravat, waistcoat, and shirt.

Brooke let out a gasp. She'd felt his chest before and knew he had muscles and hair all over it, but to actually see it was something different. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. But her resistance wasn’t very strong and soon she found herself running her hands along the hard planes of his chest and stomach, twirling her fingers into his mat of black hair that covered his chest.

Andrew groaned. “Is this good enough?” he asked in a husky voice.

“No.”

Andrew grunted again. “You’re trying to torture me. Is it because of our pitiful dinner?”

“No. I just want to see you, too.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow.

“Keep going,” she said breathlessly.

He removed his boots and reached for the buttons on the fall of his pants. In seconds, he had them undone and let them drop. He stepped out of them, peeling off his stockings as he went, leaving him clad only in his drawers. “Is this good enough now? Or do you require that I remove my smalls as well?”

Brooke didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She just stared at him, her mouth slightly agape and in a trance.

Andrew needed no further invitation. He stepped closer to her and ran his fingers along the crest of her collarbone and over to the straps of her chemise. Not allowing her time to protest or try to stop him, he tugged the straps so hard and fast the stitches attaching the straps to the rest of the garment ripped, leading to her chemise joining her gown on the floor.

Andrew took another step back and raked her over from head to toe with his intent gaze. There was much more of her visible now. Her stomach was bare and so was the top of her chest. She still had her drawers, stockings, and the bands she wore wound around her chest.

Wasting no time, he grabbed the top of the piece of cotton that was tucked into the top and started to unwind the linen.

“Please don’t,” she said suddenly, panic creeping into her voice.

His hands froze. “Why?”

Brooke shook her head. She couldn’t say, “My breasts are actually much smaller than what they appear because I have two folded up pillow linens stuffed under these bands.” But she was going to have to say something. He was going to see them eventually, and it appeared it would be relatively soon.

“My size is not what it appears,” she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes, you explained that before. They’re too big for your bodices.”

“I did not say they were too big,” she corrected. “You just assumed that. Because like all other men of the world, you like to ogle ladies bosoms; and the bigger the bosom, the more you ogle.”

Andrew gave her a curious look. “Then why do you bind them?”

“Because I have quite the opposite problem, thank you.”

“You think they’re too small?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes,” she conceded flatly.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Andrew growled. Grabbing hold of the offending linen, he unwound it so quickly, that try as she might, she couldn’t stop him. After two times around, there were twin thuds on the floor. Andrew reached down and picked up one of the wadded up pillow shams before tossing it down and shooting Brooke an amused glance.

Brooke felt a little relieved that at least he found some amusement in the situation. She, on the other hand, was so nervous she could feel butterflies swarming around in her stomach. Her lower lip began to tremble and she thought at any minute she was going to swoon, which she had never done before, but there was always a first.

The last round of linen came off and Brooke felt the cool air hit her bare breasts in one big woosh. The cool air was quickly replaced by Andrew’s warm hands that came up to cup and shape her swollen breasts.

Her eyes flew to his face. She watched him as he swallowed and his eyes grew darker with desire.

“They’re perfect,” he rasped unevenly, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Brooke looked down and saw how wonderfully they filled his hands. They fit perfectly into his palm, slightly spilling over each time he massaged them with his fingers. She thought he would have been disappointed they weren't bigger, but his reaction to seeing them had disproved the notion and sent a flood of relief through her. She couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Who told you something was wrong with your body?” he growled, as he brushed both of her nipples with his thumbs.

“Why?” she asked tentatively. Nobody had told her there was anything wrong with her. She had eyes. She could see that most other women spilled out the top of their gowns, and she didn’t.

“Because I’m going to string him up from the nearest tree, that’s why. You’re body is absolutely perfect,” he repeated. Then he dropped down to his knees and showered kisses across the tops of her breasts and the valley between them.

Brooke let go of any restraint she had left. He thought her body perfect; who was she to argue? It would make life a lot easier not having to bind them each day.

Andrew wrapped his arm around the back of her knees and the other around her waist, then with one quick movement, he picked her up and placed her on the bed. It was only a second later that his hands were caressing her all over her body, leaving nothing that was bared untouched.

He lowered his head and drew her tender nipple into his mouth. She gasped at the warm sensation. Nothing they had done so far could have prepared her for what she was feeling now. Just when she felt it couldn’t get any better, he circled it with his tongue then gently nipped the tip.

Her body relaxed into a boneless mass and she closed her eyes to better savor the sweet sensations Andrew’s hands and mouth were sending through her body. She let out a nervous sigh when his fingers reached into the slit in her drawers and ran along the crease between her leg and her most intimate area.

“Just relax,” Andrew whispered as his fingers moved to lightly dance through her curls.

His mouth left her chest, where he had been kissing a slow trail down her sternum, and met her mouth. Stilling his fingers, he pressed his mouth to hers and took full control of her lips. She let out a soft moan when his lips left her mouth and kissed a hot path down to her jaw. He ran his tongue along the ridge then moved down to kiss her neck, causing Brooke to shiver in excitement.

Descending down her body, his mouth reached her nipple and he took it into his mouth, gently suckling while his fingers left her curls and trailed along her soft stomach, circling her naval and leaving a hot, searing sensation in their wake.

Dipping lower, his fingers lightly skimmed over her mound and found their way to her swollen, aching flesh. He massaged her there, causing her ache to grow into an intense throb. Finding her wet, silky opening, they both groaned when he slipped his finger inside.

She felt his finger slide inside of her, filling the part of her that ached with need for something more, she didn’t know exactly what it was aching for, but Andrew did.

Rhythmically, he moved deeply in and out, building something deep inside her she couldn't describe.

His pace increased, as did her pleasure. She let out another groan when he added a second finger.

Suddenly, Brooke’s legs felt like they were being licked by fire and her mind was spiraling away from reality. Then her whole world exploded. All the pressure that had built up released in a flood and her whole body tensed then completely relaxed, leaving her with a very content feeling.

A few moments passed before she was able to bring herself to meet Andrew’s gaze. “Did you intend to do that?” she asked dully.

“Yes, it was my intention,” he said honestly with a self-satisfied smile.

“If I had known that was the result of you reaching in my drawers, I might have let you last night,” she said with a bright smile.

“I doubt it would have been nearly as enjoyable if either Gateway or Lady Algen happened upon us doing that,” he said dryly.

Brooke scrunched her nose up and giggled. “No, I don’t suppose it would have.” Brooke met his eyes again. “Is that all? Was that the marital act?”

Andrew gave her with a puzzled look. “No. Didn’t your mother explain it to you?”

“No,” Brooke said shyly. Oh, how she wished she had known what Mama was talking about earlier this afternoon, then she wouldn’t be such a ninny now.

“There’s more,” he said raggedly, tracing a lazy pattern across her thighs.

Brooke reached out and touched his face tenderly then grinned. “Well, what are you waiting for? I’m ready.”

Andrew threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “That’s good, because if you weren’t, I was going to have to excuse myself to go bathe in that pond out there.”

Brooke had no idea what he was talking about and was about to ask when he rendered her speechless by laying her back down and literally ripping off her drawers and stockings.

Her hands refused to be idle and freely roamed his body. She dug her fingers into the hair on his chest, twisting and twirling it. Then she moved them to feel the chorded muscles in his shoulders and neck. Except that statue at the museum, she had never seen or felt a man’s body before and this was an experience she thought she could enjoy doing for the rest of her life. But then he pulled away from her touch and stood up.

Her eyes traveled down his standing body and noticed his hands were working at the strings of his tented drawers. Then they dropped.

Her eyes were fixed on the part of Andrew that had just been revealed like it was a novelty in a curiosity shop.

Andrew’s mind must have been on something else because he didn’t comment on her staring and joined her in the bed.

“What exactly are you planning to do with that?” she squeaked and pointed toward his waist as he positioned himself over her.

“You’ll see,” was all he said before his mouth was kissing hers again. His kisses were not as gentle and tender as they been earlier. Instead, they were intense and with purpose.

Brooke became mindless again and gave over to his kisses, she only noticed something was between her thighs when he pulled back from their kiss and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, this will hurt a little.”

Her mind tried to put together what he was saying, but didn’t have enough time before she felt something prodding her where his fingers had been only a short while ago. He pushed forward very slowly. She looked at his face and thought he looked like he was the one in pain. His face was grim. His lips clamped shut in a flat, tight line, causing white lines to form and his blue eyes looked hard as they stared intently at her. Finally, he gave one final push and she let out a cry of surprise.

His body stilled on top of her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and tightened her grip on his shoulders, slightly digging her nails into his skin.

Andrew leaned down and sweetly placed a kiss on her forehead. “Please know that I didn’t want to hurt you. If I could have avoided it, I would have.”

“I know,” Brooke told him, wiggling her hips a little to get more comfortable.

He groaned. Then he started moving on top of her with slow, even strokes, moving as deep as she could take him then almost completely withdrawing.

It felt rather uncomfortable at first, but once her body adjusted to the size of him, she relaxed and started to move with him until together they found a steady rhythm.

The pressure she’d felt earlier began to quickly build up again, pushing her higher and higher with each stroke. This time it only took a few minutes for her to find a release that was even more intense than the one earlier.

After hers, Andrew pushed in once more and with a harsh groan, reached his climax before collapsing.

Minutes later when Brooke was losing the battle to stay awake, she felt Andrew’s lips move in against hair as he whispered, “That, was the marital act.”