The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [105]
“Ah,” she said into his mouth as he kissed her, “I love lust, don’t you, Douglas?”
“Blessed hell,” he said and had her stripped within a minute. She gave no thought to the beautiful ball gown that had cost him at least one hundred pounds. She was too busy undressing him, stroking him, caressing him, staring at him as she touched him.
Again, there was no time, no overture, no prelude. He was on top of her, panting, his big body shaking, and she arched up against him and he came into her. She was ready for him, always ready, and the power of him made her cry out and lurch upward. She grabbed his head and brought his mouth down to hers and she kissed him, biting his lower lip, her hands wild on his shoulders and back even as she pushed upward against him, bringing him deeper.
For one single instant, Douglas managed to regain his sanity, and in that instant, she climaxed, and he watched her eyes go vague and soft and he kissed her mouth, taking the gasping cries into his. But it was just for an instant, one small instant, then he was raging over her again, beyond himself, surging into her, and it wouldn’t stop. He felt her hands on his buttocks and that sent him over the edge. “Alexandra,” he said, then collapsed on top of her.
They were lying half off the bed. He was very heavy but she didn’t care. She wondered if it would always be like this—this fierce wild lovemaking, always so fast, so hard and deep. She knew she wouldn’t mind a bit; she was always with him, just as frenzied, just as urgent. Douglas would accept nothing else. She said, when she was able to draw a complete breath, “Am I pregnant, do you think?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I made you pregnant the first time I took you.”
“Well, then, if you are right, I will be proved worthy. That’s what everyone wanted, isn’t it? A Sherbrooke heir?”
“Yes. As I recall, you volunteered to produce the heir.”
“Yes,” she said readily, “I’ll give you half a dozen heirs if you wish. I should like to have a little boy who looks just like you, Douglas.”
He didn’t like the way her words made him feel. He grunted and said, “I am tired. You’ve worn me to a bone. Go to sleep.”
“If you could control your lust, perhaps you would have more energy to talk to me.”
“Go to sleep, damn you.”
She did, a smile on her lips.
When Alexandra awoke the next morning, she was in her own bed but Douglas wasn’t. She sat up, missing him, for it was his habit to awaken her with kisses, with his hands between her thighs, touching her, making her ready for him even before she was fully awake. She was alone. She didn’t like it one bit.
I made you pregnant the first time I took you.
No, no, he couldn’t know that, could he? She’d had no monthly flow since Douglas had taken her, that was true, but she was very unpredictable and thus she simply didn’t know.
She rose and quickly bathed and dressed. Tony and Melissande were leaving today as were both Uncle Albert and Aunt Mildred. And Lady Juliette, thank the good Lord.
It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon when the first of their guests, Lady Juliette, departed, berating her maid even as she said her good-byes to her host and hostess.
The dowager was frowning. “That girl was a severe disappointment, Mildred. I shouldn’t have liked it if Douglas had wedded her.”
“The girl is a shrew,” Aunt Mildred said.
“She is divine, nonetheless,” Uncle Albert said. “She is young and full of high spirits, that is all.”
“She is a spoiled bitch and will only get worse as she ages,” said his fond wife.
As for Tony, he had hugged Alexandra, whispering in her ear, “I am proud of you. Don’t change. Keep going as you are now doing. All will be well.”
As for Melissande, she gave her sister a long look and said, “I don’t mind that you’re a countess and I’m a viscountess. I do mind that you might want Tony. You will never have him, Alex, so you may forget it.”
Alexandra