Her Rogue, page 19
“I...” She was incoherent but knew she needed more from him.
“What do you need, my dearest Hattie?” he asked, as his tongue traipsed from one breast to the other.
She wasn’t his dearest. She should be annoyed by his possessive use of her name. Instead, something curled deep inside her. Best to ignore that.
“I need your tongue on my muff.”
His head popped up. He braced his arm, taking his weight off her. There was most definitely shock lurking in his eyes.
“Must I repeat myself, Benjamin?”
His eyes clouded over with another layer of lust at her severity. My goodness, this was delightful. “No, but... You should be aware that I am a virgin in this instance.”
Harriet propped herself up on her elbows. Undoubtedly there was some shock in her eyes now. “Well, as you tutors like to say, ‘practice makes perfect.’”
“I shall do my best. Offers of advice are most welcome.”
He slid off the bed and to his knees. Positioning his hands beneath her bottom, he pulled her closer, then spread her legs wide. That alone sent a wave of slickness straight to the place he now contemplated. No doubt she should be appalled by his scrutiny but that was a difficult feeling to awaken when he flicked his eyes to hers and grinned with what could only be described as boyish enthusiasm. Harriet fell back against the mattress, assured he would give all he was capable of.
He began by kissing her thighs then placed a tentative peck on her mound. He inhaled and groaned. After that, Harriet was lost to all sense and knew only sensation: the swirl of his tongue, the scrape of his night beard, the depth of his fingers. He wasn’t perfect. Some things didn’t feel great but when he hit a sweet spot, she made certain to call out a breathy yes, and as a dedicated learner, he paid heed. Soon she was nearly bucking with fevered delight. His attentions never wavered, not even when a fierce orgasm ripped through her, which prolonged the pleasure.
When at last she came back to herself, he was kissing his way up her body. “Never” —a kiss to her navel— “have I ever” —a kiss to her left breast— “done anything so” a kiss to her right breast then his forehead on hers. “I don’t have a word to end that. All I know is that I want to do it again. And again. I shall never be the same, Hattie. You’ve ruined me.”
He shifted her carefully so he could lie on the bed once again. She turned on her side and slapped a hand over his mouth. “You are entirely too dramatic not to mention talkative for someone who hasn’t finished the task at hand.”
She released his mouth and reached down to touch his still-present erection, which strangled whatever words he was about to say. Taking him in hand, she pumped the length of him until his eyes nearly crossed.
“Absolutely ruined,” he choked out.
He captured her wrist and flattened her to the mattress, his cock oh-so-close to her entrance. “May I come in?”
She’d never admit it to him, but she’d become aroused all over again just touching him. Harriet feared he was not the only one ruined by this encounter. She pulled him down by the neck and kissed him hard. “Please do.”
Without hesitation he plunged in. Harriet nearly cried out with relief at finally having him. Again, though, not a trace of arrogance lined his face. He was all awe and wonder, as if she’d provided all he could ever ask for. He moved then, a slow, deliberate motion that repeated again and again. It was tortuous and sweet and drove her mad with want.
“I can go on like this all night,” he said, punctuated by a soulful groan as Harriet lifted a leg around his waist to take him a little deeper. “Or perhaps not. Tell me what to do, Hattie.”
She could abuse that power no end. But that would serve neither of them. This was about mutual pleasure and satisfaction. “Harder, Benjamin.”
He quickened his pace at once, setting up a rhythm that had her clenching his shoulders as a second shattering climax rushed through her.
“So. Beautiful.”
She could say the same. His thrusts were powerful as his muscles bunched and his eyes splintered into sharp, bright emeralds. He paused, though it was clear it cost him every last shred of willpower. “Should I spend else—”
Harriet clamped her other leg around him, letting him know he was free to continue. He’d probably forgot that she’d already mentioned the precautions she’d taken. He drove into her twice more then succumbed to wave after wave of pleasure.
Collapsing atop her, he let out a sated sigh. Harriet ran her fingers up and down his back and nipped his shoulders, happy to keep him close but afraid to see his face.
The room and the night were taking shape again, coming into focus. She closed her eyes, pushing away the intrusive thoughts and possible regrets. Time for those in the cold light of day.
He rolled off her, trying to bring her with him, but she evaded his arm and sat up, twisting to lean over him without touching. His eyes were sleepy, his mouth satisfied. He was far too handsome, far too sensual. Once was not enough.
In for a penny, in for a pound. “I want more.” His eyes snapped to life. “Again in twenty minutes?”
“So demanding.” He fingered the lock of hair that fell over her shoulder. “I have a demand of my own though. I want you in my arms for those twenty minutes.”
Harriet hesitated, but it was only for show. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Chapter Fifteen
Ben left the Bell and Crown earlier than usual, stifling a yawn as he mounted his horse. He could have used an extra hour of sleep. However, Mr. Callan had asked him to attend a meeting regarding the Hatherden school. So, here he was, turning in the direction of the vicarage. It was mid-morning already, though there was no sign of the sun behind thick clouds. He lifted his face into the stiff wind, hoping the cool slap of air would wake him up.
It had been fifty-eight hours since he’d first shared a bed with Hattie. He would give up every last minute of sleep to continue doing so. They had not met the night after the first, much to his despair, but yesterday she’d wandered by him while Kitty and Lucy were doing mathematical operations with buttons and simply said, “Midnight.” Though she’d left the schoolroom immediately afterwards, it had taken a monumental effort to concentrate on the girls and their lessons. He’d promised himself from the first morning after that incredible night with Hattie that he wouldn’t shirk his duties to his students. He had been mostly successful, though it certainly helped when their mother stayed away.
Hattie. What a woman. He’d known she wouldn’t be shy, but he had still thought he would need to coax her into getting naked, into touching him, into being open. None of that was true. After that one moment of hesitation, she’d been a demanding, enthusiastic partner. One he couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t mind in the least that she ordered him about. As long as they both ended up being satisfied, he would agree to just about anything. Last night she propped herself up on the bed and made him undress, one article of clothing at a time. He was a rigid mass of dire need by the end. Then she took him in her mouth.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the erotic memory. He was on his way to the vicar’s home. Thoughts of Hattie needed to be buried ten feet deep and covered with a boulder.
The clouds had darkened and lowered. Rain was probably inevitable, but he hoped it would hold off until after he arrived at Rutledge Manor for the afternoon’s tutoring session. What with Hattie, teaching the girls, and now meeting with the vicar, he’d not had much time to devote to his search. Aware that his aunts still awaited his assistance in London, he’d focused his attention on the parts of the house he had not yet searched.
One of those was Lady P’s suite of rooms. He’d had to spend a significant amount of time studying her and her maid’s daily habits. His efforts paid off yesterday when Lady P went calling upon neighbors and her maid spent the time cleaning shoes belowstairs. Ben had finished the lesson for the day and pretended to leave, only to circle back, sneak in, and head for her rooms. Unfortunately, all his preparation was for naught as he found nothing of significance in Lady P’s chamber.
He turned up the lane to the vicar’s modest house, a two-story brick building with beautiful grounds. Flowers abounded and the topiary were skillfully cut. He handed his horse off to a stable boy and entered through the door held open by a young, bright-cheeked maid.
“Mr. Fauntleroy, welcome.” Mr. Callan stood in a doorway, waving him through. “We decided to gather around the dining table as the day is so dark and unfriendly.”
Ben shook his hand and stepped into the room lit by two tall candelabra. Mr. Gaston sat on one side of the mahogany table. Ben nearly grimaced when he noticed Lady P sitting on the opposite side. Mr. Callan had not mentioned the viscountess would be present. Undoubtedly for good reason, considering their last encounter.
For Hattie’s sake, he would attempt to be polite. He bowed his head and greeted them both.
“Please, sit, sit,” Mr. Callan urged.
With a sense of self-preservation, Ben chose the seat next to Gaston and across from Lady P.
“Right then.” The vicar pulled out the chair next to her and sat. He slid a sideways glance at the viscountess that was full of warmth and something much deeper.
So it was true then. The vicar was at least a little bit in love with Lady P. Ben recalled a few looks and near-touches from that tea at Rutledge Manor. And hadn’t they danced at the Portmans’ dinner? The thought was unsettling as he had a good opinion of the clergyman.
“Thank you all for coming.” Mr. Callan made eye contact with each of them, and now Ben couldn’t stop looking for signs of...affection. He nearly shuddered at the thought. Thankfully, the glance at Lady P was brief. “Mr. Fauntleroy, let me lay out our plan for you, such as it is at the moment, and then we look forward to hearing your thoughts.”
A second astounding realization. These people—well, two of them—sought his opinion about their village school. He was no one. A stranger to them until a few weeks ago. A young—as Hattie loved to remind him—man who tutored girls.
“I am honored to be here,” he said, with all sincerity.
Mr. Callan smiled. “We intend to hold lessons twice a week for a few hours to begin. Many of the children are needed to help their parents and of course the children will not be used to attending school. We want everyone to have a positive experience straight away. We intend to teach reading, penmanship, mathematics, and geography.
“Mr. Callan is too modest to admit that he will also teach Latin and lessons from scripture,” Lady P said with the first genuine smile Ben had ever seen upon her face. Dear God, did she return the vicar’s affection? That was entirely impossible. She was the coldest, most prudish woman he had ever met.
“Not modest really, just focused on the practicalities for the moment.”
The two of them locked eyes, and Ben wanted to be somewhere miles away. Mr. Gaston, bless him, made a small noise, and the vicar returned his attention to them.
“Mr. Gaston has generously agreed to buy supplies for the school as well as provide part of the teacher’s salary. In addition, he has contributed a significant sum toward building the school itself.”
“I wouldn’t be successful today if I hadn’t been provided an education,” the brewer offered. “An educated society can provide for itself. We’ve got a good start on the building fund. If you know anyone with deep pockets, turn that charm of yours on ‘em,” he added with a wink at Ben.
If all went well, he might soon have the funds himself. Once Everleigh Grove was secured to him, he could do as he wished with the income from the property. It would give him great pleasure to help fund the Hatherden school.
He looked across the table. “I assume Rutledge Manor has made a contribution?”
Lady P pressed herself back against the chair, clearly shocked by his utterly uncharming question. Mr. Callan shifted in his seat next to her. Her cheeks turned a splotchy red above her high-necked gown as the room darkened further with the oncoming threat of rain.
“Well, I am certain you don’t understand the intricacies of the viscountcy, the trustees, and the guardianship, Mr. Fauntleroy, but it is not nearly as simple as making a donation.”
“Oh, of course. How naive of me.” Ben did not lift his scrutiny. This woman was intent on destroying Hattie’s connection with her son. “I’m sure, then, that Mr. Saunders made a contribution of his own.”
“I do not think it is any of your concern, whether he has or hasn’t.”
“Which means he hasn’t. What about yourself? Have you made a donation, Lady Dunstan?” Her irate glare should have sent him up in flames. “It is, after all, the Christian thing to do, is it not?” He turned a querying face to the vicar at the last question. The downward turn of Mr. Callan’s mouth gave Ben pause. He was being rude; he did know that. But Lady P seemed to bring out the worst in him. If he couldn’t enchant her, he might as well tear her down, right?
“Tithing to the church is the obligation of every Christian.” Mr. Callan spread his hands palms up. “Other donations are at the discretion of the individual, though it is to be hoped one would assist their neighbors in need as they could. Without prompting.”
Ben wanted to shout, Precisely! However, the abject solemnity and discomfort of Mr. Callan moved him to reconsider his behavior. He’d been an ass. This probably wasn’t what the dowager meant when she hinted he should reveal himself to others.
Lady P seemed to have shrunk in upon herself, though Ben didn’t doubt she would send her brother after him, or more likely, Hattie, at the first opportunity. What an idiot he was.
Mr. Gaston stepped in, practical as ever. “Let’s move on to the structure of the lessons themselves. It’s here that we most value your input, Mr. Fauntleroy.”
That was a deserved set-down, minor though it was. As the clouds unleashed a fierce deluge of rain outside, Ben launched into an outline of what they could hope to accomplish with just a few hours a week. All his knowledge came from the last fortnight with the girls, but it would have to suffice. He was more certain of how the school could be most successful with its lessons. As they tossed ideas and suggestions back and forth, he realized something. In every instance when the vicar and the brewer spoke of the students, they said 'the boys’ or ‘he.’
“Do you mean to teach girls?”
With the pounding rain, he didn’t hear Lady P’s sigh so much as see it. Her shoulders dropped and her head tipped back as she stared at the wall above his head.
“We...do not intend to,” Mr. Callan admitted.
“Waste of time and money,” Gaston declared. “Most of the girls hereabouts will go into service or become a tenant farmer’s wife. No need for reading or mathematics.”
“How will they read the Bible?” he asked, barely leashing his frustration. Reading scripture was the least of his concern but he could see it held sway with these three.
“They’ll go to church to hear readings from the Bible or their husbands will read to them.” Gaston steepled his hands on the table. “Our resources only stretch so far. There’s no need to educate the girls.”
Lady P lowered her gaze to Ben’s face, smug satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.
“I think you are all making a mistake.” He couldn’t not say it. He flicked a glance at Lady P. “As Wollstonecraft says, are we not all human beings, both males and females? Are they not both deserving of treatment as rational beings? If females are the weaker, softer sex—Rousseau’s and others’ argument, not mine—perhaps that is because they are not educated. Why would you want uneducated mothers bringing up future generations?”
“Have you been reading again, Mr. Fauntleroy?” Lady P asked, her usual veneer of condescension in her voice.
“Your advocacy for female education is to be admired.” The vicar spoke quickly, probably wanting to forestall any more arguments between Ben and Lady P. “However, as a village school, we have to be economical with our resources. Your teaching the Rutledge girls will surely be beneficial, for them and their husbands. Our teaching the boys of the village will benefit them and the neighborhood.”
If that speech was meant to placate him, it did no such thing. He was not educating Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lucy so they would make good wives. He hoped to empower them with knowledge, to show them how to use the intellect they were born with. And he did not suppose, not at all, that lesser-born girls didn’t possess the same capacity for intellect.
But he had no leverage here. Not yet. Perhaps when he took control of Everleigh Grove and went to make a donation, he would insist on girls being included. For now, though, he had to let his argument lie.
He looked around at the three of them, knowing he had to soften his stance for the moment. “I hope you will reconsider at a future point in time. I thank you for including me in your meeting. I realize my opinions can be somewhat passionate.”
Mr. Callan smiled and nodded. “An opinion is not worth holding if one is not willing to defend it passionately.”
Lady P made a—to Ben’s ears at least—disgruntled sound but perhaps the groan was lost in the continued lashing of the storm.
Mr. Callan eyed the rain-splashed window. “We have concluded our meeting, but I don’t believe any of you will wish to leave just yet. What say you to a spot of tea and cake in the parlour?”
Agreement was enthusiastic on the part of Lady P and Mr. Gaston. Ben would have preferred to leave, for a number of reasons. He’d had his fill of the viscountess’s company. Every time they were in the same room, the two of them seemed to cause enough tension to start a war. As well, he would be late for his lessons with the girls. As his time in Hatherden grew shorter, his time with them was even more precious. Though he’d only be ten miles away at Everleigh after he found the deed, he would assuredly not be a welcome guest at Rutledge Manor. Most importantly, this meant his time with Hattie was limited as well. He’d deceived her from the start, and as her friend, that troubled his soul. As did the fact that he could depart with a large piece of her son’s inheritance. William was as much an innocent in this situation as Ben. Hopefully Hattie would realize how little the viscountcy would miss Everleigh Grove and how much his aunts would benefit from a home and financial security.
