The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [120]
“Yes, you would have been utterly distracted. You would have fallen off the bed, you would have been so distracted.”
He actually managed to come up on his elbow as he gently shoved her onto her back. He leaned down and kissed her mouth, then said, “All right, tell me. Distract me if you can.”
“I’m not barren. Evidently I was just unable to become pregnant with Gerard. The physician told me this sometimes happens. We are going to have a child, Spenser.”
He looked down at her, blinked a couple of times, then flopped onto his back. In the next moment, he slid off the bed onto the floor.
One week later
Lord Beecham awoke to Helen’s soft mouth on his cheek. Nothing unusual in that. He loved it, and he was becoming used to it. He was so used to it that if she didn’t kiss him every morning, he knew he would miss it desperately. He would probably whine and beg.
He sighed and turned toward her. Nothing happened.
He couldn’t seem to move. Now this was odd. She kissed him yet again, her mouth soft and warm against the whiskers on his chin. He was immediately interested, but that was nothing new. And so he tried to bring his arms around her, but his arms wouldn’t move.
His eyes flew open. He saw his bride smiling down at him, her expression so sweet, so tender, and that beautiful mouth of hers touched him yet again.
He said slowly, trying to get his wits together—not an easy thing when he wanted her, something that happened with very little delay. “There is something very wrong here, Helen.”
“Yes, I know, my lord.” She kissed his left ear. “You are now my prisoner.”
She was right about that. He was lying sprawled naked on his back, his arms tied over his head, his legs spread and his ankles tied as well.
His eyes crossed. “Fate is a remarkable thing. Helen, my dearest, what if you had never even seen me? What if, by some awful quirk of fate, I had never even seen you? What if you had never decided to hunt me down?
“No other woman would do this to me. Ah, Helen, kiss me again, or shave me first, then kiss me, and don’t stop.”
But she didn’t kiss him or shave him. She laughed and stood beside the bed, her hands on her hips. “Oh, no. This is retribution, my lord. Remember when you tied me down? This is revenge.”
“Ah, if I flick my wrist inward, will my bonds slip away?”
“No. I don’t know how to tie a knot that would do that. I fear that you are completely at my mercy, my lord. No escape for you unless I allow it.”
He thought he would expire of unrequited lust at that very moment. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Will you beat me with a bundle of hollyhocks?”
She gave him a brilliant smile. It was then he noticed that she was wearing a thin silk nightgown, just a single layer of soft silk that was thinner than the film of sweat on his forehead. It was pale cream. He watched her ease one strap off her very white shoulder.
He gulped and felt himself respond, instantly, fully. “What level is this?”
“I haven’t assigned it a level yet. I must conduct the experiment first, then evaluate my results.” The other strap fell off and the gown slowly slipped over her breasts to fall to her waist. “Perhaps it will prove not to be an efficacious discipline. Perhaps you will simply close your eyes and fall asleep again. Perhaps even snore.”
“I am dying here, Helen.”
“That’s good. Just be patient. Just let me tease you a bit more into oblivion.” She looked down his body, came down beside him, and began kissing him.
He arched up, sucking in a roomful of air, his heart speeding up so fast that he knew he would embarrass himself if she continued. “Helen, you must stop. It is true that I am not a very young man, that one would expect me to have gained more control by my thirty-third year of male life, but it isn’t true. You must stop or I will leave you and that isn’t a good thing to do to a beautiful woman who also happens to be your wife.
“Stop, Helen. Ah, your mouth is so very warm—” He groaned and heaved at the straps around his wrists. They gave just a bit.
She stopped