English Rose Ch. 08

"Wait here," Marcus ordered, stepping down from the carriage. "I won't be long."

"Your Grace, Lord Edington asks if you are receiving."

Sabrina looked up from the book she had been reading and frowned. "Of course, please show him in." By Marcus' standard of time, it was too early in the day for social calls. "Is Joan okay?" she asked, rising as Marcus stepped into the room.

Marcus stopped short at the quickly fired question. "Of course, why would you...?"

"It wasn't Joan who was indisposed, was it?" Sabrina asked. Her knowing eyes took in the loose cut of his coat and the dark circles under his eyes. "How bad was it this time?"

"I've suffered worse," he lied. Enduring her examination, Marcus gave her a moment to inspect him, her eyes searching his face.

Sabrina recognized the signs and wondered how much of the past several days Marcus had spent locked in his study. She knew not to ask. Any answer he gave would be dismissive and hold very little information. Her main regret was that Joan had to go through this period alone. Making a mental note, Sabrina decided that next time they spoke she would find a way to let the young woman know that she did not have suffer alone.

"May I sit?"

"Of course," Sabrina said. "Shall I ring for tea?"

"No, I only have a moment." Marcus said, wondering where to begin. "I realize that I have cost you a lot," he started.

"I'm a grown woman, Marcus," Sabrina said, smiling slightly. "I knew what I was doing."

"Regardless, I am aware that our friendship is a source of discomfort between you and Edington and that I have never shown you my appreciation."

"It goes without saying," Sabrina offered. "Marcus, are you alright?" It was unlike him to be concerned with the emotions of those around him.

Marcus looked away from eyes that saw too much, knew too much. "I would ask a favor of you," he said. "If you never do another thing for me..."

"Marcus..."

"...all I ask is that should something happen to me you will look after my wife."

"Marcus!" Sabrina cried, alarmed.

"I'm fine," Marcus sought to reassure. "You have my word."

"Then what is this all about?"

"Until recently there was only me to care for, marrying Joan changed all of that." Marcus went through the explanation he had planned in preparation for his conversation with Sabrina. "You'll recall my father died young?"

"A riding accident, wasn't it?"

"Yes, so I know how uncertain life can be," Marcus said. "Joan's parents are older, as is my mother and...well..." here, Marcus paused. "There is no one I would trust more with this. You will know how best to help her, should the need arise."

Sabrina sat stunned and not a little bit concerned. Marcus had never spoken of his father, his family or his childhood in general. It seemed unlike him to make such forward thinking plans. Perhaps marriage was having an effect on him after all.

"Please, Sabrina," Marcus said quietly.

"Of course," Sabrina said. "You should know that you didn't need to ask. I've come to care for Joan a great deal."

"I know the feeling is mutual," Marcus offered. "Thank you," he said, rising to go.

"Speaking of," she said, stopping him. "How is Joan?"

"She's well," Marcus said his tone a polite warning not to press.

"What are your plans for this evening?"

"A quiet one at home with my wife," he said. "She certainly deserves it."

Sabrina nibbled her bottom lip.

"I know that look," Marcus said, sighing in feigned exasperation. "What is it?"

"There have been no public appearances since the Huntington's ball," she said gently.

"Not tonight," Marcus said curtly. Tonight was for Joan.

"People will start to wonder, to talk," Sabrina pushed.

"No," Marcus snapped. "Tomorrow," he said, gentling his tone. "I promise to make a very public appearance with my wife."

Recognizing a subject closed and willing to let the matter drop, Sabrina nodded. Accepting the affectionate kiss Marcus pressed to her cheek, she watched as he strolled from the room. Despite his assurances, she couldn't help but worry.

Returning home, Marcus bound up the stairs and hurried down the hall. Quickly, he dressed for supper, excusing his man before letting himself into his wife's rooms.

"Marcus!" Joan cried in surprise.

Marcus smiled. Leaning against the doorframe, he realized that he could not have timed his entrance any better had he tried.

Joan sat at her vanity still in her dressing gown. Her hair was piled on top of her head exposing the slender column of her neck. Fresh from the bath, her skin was flushed pink with heat and appeared downy soft. Giving into desire, Marcus stalked across the room; his eyes locked with his wife's in the mirror he dropped a kiss on the curve of one shoulder. The contact dislodged the collar of her gown, which slid off her shoulder to the bend in her elbow revealing the tops of her breasts.

"You're early," Joan said. Eyeing him in the mirror, she tried to gauge his mood. He appeared refreshed, the fatigue of the past few days gone, replaced with a mischievous playfulness she had never seen in him before.

"My apologies," he said, his fingers resting lightly on her shoulders. "I thought we could go down together."

"I'm not dressed yet."

"Perhaps we should have something brought up," Marcus suggested and found that he liked the idea of dining together in the intimate rooms of her suite.

Catching the look and the intent in her husband's eyes, Joan rose and gave the bell pull a tug. They waited in silence for Shelly to arrive, Joan issuing quietly spoken orders before closing the door behind her maid.

"It will take some time," she said. "Would you like a drink while we wait?"

Marcus watched as she crossed the room to a small campaign. "Wine," he said when she reached for the brandy. "I've had enough of that to last quite a while."

Joan nodded and poured them each a glass. Together, they moved to the small sitting area in front of the fire. The logs were lit, Joan having bathed before it earlier, and the room pleasantly warm.

Joan watched as Marcus settled in. He appeared relaxed, comfortable here in her rooms. It was the first time in their marriage that she sensed a measure of peace in him.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of their supper, a small contingent of servants moving quickly to get them set up before discreetly slipping out of the room.

"Shall we?" he said, standing and offering Joan a hand.

Joan slipped her fingers into her husband's hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Oh," she exclaimed, Marcus having held his ground and pulling her up against his chest. Slowly, she watched as he lowered his head, closing her eyes a moment before he captured her mouth in a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft, nibbling gently at the corner of her mouth before licking along the seam. Joan let him explore, let him set the pace. The kiss was tender, never crossing the line into true passion, and ended on a sigh.

"Come," Marcus said, leading her away from the table. Easily, he lifted her up and deposited her onto the center of the bed.

"What?" Joan started.

"Just wait," Marcus said. "Get comfortable."

Joan scooted back until she could recline against the mountain of pillows, watching as Marcus crossed the room and lifted the cover from their meal. Quickly, he selected choice bits of meats, cheese, fruits and bread and brought them back to the bed.

Reclining beside his wife, the plate of food between them, Marcus picked up a tender bit of beef and offered it up to her.

Joan eyed the offered bit of food and behind it the watchful eyes of her husband. She knew that this was a peace offering, a silent apology and a request to let him care for her.

Fascinated, Marcus watched as Joan bent forward and slid the tips of his fingers into her mouth. He could feel her stroking him with her tongue, curling it around the morsel of food before slowly releasing him.

Marcus couldn't stop the groan, or the steady stiffening of his cock, as his wife sucked, nibbled and laved the food from his fingers. In between, she licked at her lips and occasionally offered him a taste, feeding him from her own hand.

His undoing came at the hands of a strawberry. That simple bit of fruit released its juices just as Joan slipped it into her mouth. Impulsively, Marcus leaned across the bed and licked a single drop of juice just before it slipped off her bottom lip. The taste of the fruit combined with the taste of his wife exploded on his tongue.

Unable to stop himself, Marcus captured his wife's mouth in a fiery kiss. Pushing the plate off the side of the bed, uncaring when it shattered, Marcus rolled on top of his wife, pinning her to the bed.

Joan met his kiss, instinctively spreading her thighs and feeling him settle between them. He was hard, his arousal pressing up against her core. She could have sworn that he throbbed in time with her pearl, that tender bit of flesh swelling in response.

Marcus kissed her, his mouth urgently moving from her lips to nip at the sharp edge of her jaw. Joan tipped her head back, giving him better access and offering up the long line of her neck. Marcus took the invitation and blazed a trail of passionate kisses down to the swell of her breasts. Only then did he stop. Untying the sash of her dressing gown, Marcus slowly spread the silken material revealing her beautiful breasts.

He had thought to undress them both but was momentarily distracted by the sight of her. Gently, he reached out and cupped her, feeling her breast swell and watching as the nipple grew taunt. Lowering his head, he drew her into his mouth and suckled, working her flesh with teeth and tongue until she was restless beneath him.

"Marcus, please," Joan groaned. Her body was aflame, the junction between her thighs throbbing and desperate.

Reluctantly, Marcus released his wife's nipple and sat back on his haunches. She lay spread out before him, a feast to his senses. He drank in the sight of her; hair tousled and bare breasts while a hint of her arousal perfumed the air.

"Marcus," Joan whispered.

Responding to the desperation in his wife's voice, Marcus tore off his jacket and quickly shed the rest of his clothes. Covering her with his body, he groaned at the feel of her pressed beneath him, their skin touching from top to toe. Closing his eyes, Marcus gave himself over to the sensation before shifting his position and thrusting into her body.

Joan arched her back, her body rising off the bed as she lifted her hips up to meet him. She was wet, beyond ready, and yet she still felt her body stretch to accommodate him.

Bracing himself on his elbows, Marcus watched his wife's face as he started to move within her. Her eyes were bright; her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted on a sigh of pleasure. The rise and fall of her chest pressed her breasts against him, the turgid peaks of her nipples tickling his chest.

They moved together, their bodies falling into that age-old rhythm of thrusting together before sliding apart. Running his palm down the outside of her leg, Marcus lifted her leg and rested her knee on his hip.

Joan felt her body shift and open, Marcus settling deeper between her legs, and surrendered to him. It didn't take long, just a few more slow sliding thrusts, and her body started to tighten. "Marcus, come with me," she begged.

"I have..." Marcus panted, "every intention of doing just that. Wrap your legs around me," he ordered, groaning when she did so without hesitation. Bracing his hands on either side of her head, Marcus thrust and rolled his hips, feeling every swollen inch of her passage clutching at his cock. Her hands, which had been holding onto his forearms, slid around to his back before reaching down and grasping his buttocks. Hungrily, she pulled him harder, deeper against her.

Marcus felt the first shivers of her climax and knew she was there. Reaching down between their bodies, he slid the tips of his fingers into her curls, finding her pearl and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Marcus!" Joan shouted, her body slipping over the edge and into a climax.

Marcus felt her gripping at him and thrust forward one last time. Her inner muscles contracted around him, fisting his cock and demanding he join her. He never thought to resist and with a shout of pure, masculine satisfaction followed her in release. Joan felt Marcus emptying himself at the opening of her womb, the heat of his seed searing her and setting off another wave of pleasure.

Feeling Joan shudder and still beneath him, Marcus switch to slow, shallow thrusts until the last of the tremors passed. Gently, he withdrew from his wife's body to lay beside her. Exhausted, they tumbled into sleep.

It was late, the candles having burned down, when Joan woke to find Marcus slowly sliding his way into her body. They made love again by the soft light of the dying fire. This time was all about the slow slide of skin, the gentle taste of tongues and the soft sighs of pleasure.

****

Joan opened her eyes slowly, trying to understand what had woken her. A soft snore from the bed beside her brought her head around. "Marcus," she whispered. Surprised at finding him still in her bed, Joan watched him sleep. His face appeared almost youthful in sleep despite the dark blond shadow of his morning beard. Giving in to temptation, she reached out and ran her finger tip along the line of his jaw, the hair softer than she expected.

"Good morning."

"Oh!" Joan exclaimed, snatching her hand back. "You're awake."

"Indeed," Marcus said, rolling onto his back to stretch, "and hungry."

"Shall I have something brought up?" Joan asked.

Marcus practically purred as he turned onto his side and nuzzled his wife's neck. "Or I could just break my fast here," he said, sliding his hand between her legs and cupping her gently.

Joan arched into his touch. Her muscles felt spent, languid from their night of love making but it didn't stop her shiver of pleasure.

Still slick from their combined juices, Marcus' fingers easily slipped inside, curling to stroke that particular spongy spot. "Oh, yes," he encouraged as fresh juices flooded from her passage. "That's it," he cooed, "come for me."

Joan didn't have a choice, her body responding to his touch and obeying his command. Fisting the sheets, she cried out as her body shuddered through gentle waves of pleasure.

Sometime later, Joan opened her eyes to find her husband smiling down at her. "Now that," he said, "is a good morning."

Joan couldn't help it, she laughed. Something inside of her broke open and joy burst forth. She knew it was dangerous, knew that whatever was wrong with Marcus had not gone away. But in that moment, she didn't care.

Marcus smiled before slipping out of bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get dressed," Marcus said, crossing the room and flashing his wife a superb set of buttocks. "We have plans."

"We do?"

"While I was out yesterday I took the liberty of stopping in at Madam Lisette's. She mentioned you had to cancel your fitting so I reschedule for today." Marcus stopped, searching for his coat. Spying it tossed carelessly across the room, he fetched it and begun digging around in the pockets.

"Lose something?" Joan asked.

"No," Marcus said with a smile, withdrawing a velvet box. "I meant to give you this last night."

Joan looked up from the bed in surprise as Marcus placed the box in the palm of her hand, the jeweler's mark clear and distinct.

"Open it." Marcus noted that her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the lid and heard the quick catch in her breath.

"Oh, my," Joan said lifting the necklace from the silk lining. The silver chain was long, trailing from the tips of her fingers down to the bend in her arm. But that wasn't what caught her eyes. The pendant was easily as big as a man's thumb and flawless. "Oh!" she exclaimed as the diamond caught the morning light, casting color across the room. "Marcus, it's beautiful."

"Do you like it," he asked, a bit uncertain. The diamond was simply set in silver and would be considered plain by many women. There had certainly been more elaborate pieces to pick from but something about this one had called to him. Standing in the shop, Marcus could picture it on Joan, each enhancing the beauty of the other instead of distracting from it.

"It's beautiful," Joan said in awe.

"Here," Marcus said. Taking the chain from her, he slipped it over her head. The pendant immediately nestled in the dip of her cleavage drawing the eye to the swell of her breasts.

Joan looked down and fingered the pendant. "I love it," she said. Rising up onto her knees, the bed sheet wrapped around her, Joan cupped his face and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

Marcus eyed his wife; tangled in the sheets and tousled from their night of love making she was the epitome of feminine dishevelment. "I'll expect a proper thank you later," he said.

Joan didn't miss the heat in her husband's eye. Still standing stark naked as he was she was hard pressed to miss the growing sign of his arousal. Giving into temptation, Joan reached out to touch him.

Marcus jerked his hips back out of her reach. "Oh, no you don't," he said. "We have places to go, people to see. Besides, I won't have you rush me."

Joan found she enjoyed his mischievous side. Hoping to see more of it, Joan crawled closer to the side of the bed and once again reached for her husband. This time she made sure to let the bed sheet slip until it caught on the tips of her breasts to hang precarious from her nipples.

Distracted by the tempting glimpse of flesh, Marcus realized his wife's intentions too late. "Joan..." he growled as her fingers wrapped around his cock. Joan flashed him a sassy smile, her fingers dancing down the length of his shaft. "Be careful before I toss you on your back and fuck you like the wench you are."

Joan's breath caught at the rough words, desire flushing her skin a pretty pink. "Promises, promises."

Marcus ground his teeth and forced himself to take a step back. Joan was forced to relinquish her hold or risk tumbling from the bed. Her words had brought to mind another promise made and the reason for it. As much as he'd like to take another tumble with his wife she would be better served seen in his company in town.

Quickly, he gave her a hard kiss before stepping out of her reach. "Later," he said. "Now, get dressed."

"Where are you going?"

"To do the same," Marcus stepped into his room and started closing the door behind him. "I'm going with you."

Stunned, Joan sat motionless staring at the closed door. Marcus was coming with her? To a fitting? It wasn't really done. In fact, most men would rather cut off vital parts of their body before sitting through a fitting. So, why?

Unable to answer that question, Joan did the only thing she could do. She got dressed.

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. True to his promise, Marcus escorted Joan to Madam Lisette's, going so far as to offer a few words of advice on both the cut and color of her wardrobe.

"I'm surprised, my lord," Madam Lisette said. Having been recommended by the Duchess of Spiegel, Lisette had made a point of seeing to Lord and Lady Edington personally.

"It should come as no surprise," Marcus said. "I know what I like to see on my wife's body."

Joan flushed as she slipped back into her own dress.

After Madam Lisette's there was a trip to the milliner, another for gloves and finally the cobbler. That evening they accepted an invitation to dine at the Hallowells' before attending the Brighton's ball.

Each day brought new adventures, the nights new entertainments. Marcus wined and dined her, going so far as to accept an invitation from her parents for a private, family supper. They saw plays, musicals and symphonies; visited the Royal Menagerie, the zoo and Vauxhall Gardens. If there was an attraction in London they attended. Some outings were more successful than others but Joan didn't care. Wrapped up in the days - and nights - with Marcus she found that she didn't much care what they did as long as they were together.