Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

She was putting herself into his hands, into his body, regardless of whether she ever found a place in his heart. This was just one night for her to forget the troubles of her life and have some warmth.

He lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips as he shifted between her thighs. The hardness she had been caressing probed her slick entrance.

“See how your body prepares itself for me?” His voice was husky.

He eased into her softness. He flexed his hips and pressed further in. She felt every inch of his hardness stretching and filling her. It had been a long time since she been with her husband and he’d never felt as wonderful as this. He repeated the process several times, each entry just that bit further. Each quick stroke enough to tantalize, to drive her insane. She moaned his name.

She was trembling with desire, and he kissed her more deeply. She bent her knees and placed her feet beside his hips until her thighs hugged his waist. His tongue penetrating her mouth like his shaft was doing. Not allowing any resistance, his powerful thighs kept her thighs parted as he slowly, slowly sank further, pushing forward an exorable pressure.

He continued teasing her, entering her and withdrawing until she was wet and open and almost delirious with desire, moving in a rhythm that was as ancient as time.

He took her mouth as he was taking her body, his tongue mimicking his delicious torture below. He slid deeper, and his tongue plundered, ruthlessly. He settled more heavily between her legs, and she felt the power and strength of him.

Eleanor stiffened, gasping for breath. She felt sure she could never accommodate his enormous size, and yet her body was opening for him, stretching… His unfamiliar hardness filling her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath.

He was not moving now. “Look at me, look into my eyes while I claim you.” When she looked, she saw tenderness as he gazed down at her.

He tenderly moved within her, going further with each gentle thrust until he finally seated himself deep within her.

Only then did he hold still above her, raining kisses all over her face. “Are you all right?” The concern was very evident in his voice and in the worried look in his eyes. He tenderly stroked down her side and molded his hands to her hip.

“Yes,” and amazingly, she was. No ghosts were with her. She wanted this man. She wanted to feel a connection with someone who had experienced disappointment in life like she had.

She closed her eyes and lay back. All she could feel was him throbbing deep within her. He lay completely still, waiting for her to grow accustomed to his impalement and the feel of his thick member deep inside her. Eventually, she couldn’t stand it. She had to move.

He brushed back a tendril of hair from her cheek.

“Someone’s impatient?”

Ignoring his teasing, she stirred her hips, tentatively testing. Ambrose rose on to his forearms and his eyes glinted down at her, the weight of his lower body holding her immobile as he looked down and watched as he withdrew and slowly, even more powerfully, entered her.

She followed his gaze and watched as he claimed her. She felt every inch as he filled her, felt her body tighten until she arched beneath him.

“Oh, it feels so good.” She struggled to catch her breath.

“Close your eyes and let it happen.” He continued to move above her and her body wound tight as a drawn bow. She did as she was told and closed her eyes and gave herself over to passion’s power. The intimacy of the moment sharpened as he slid deep, and she felt the first stirrings of overwhelming passion.

She sent her hands sliding over his shoulders, running them over his back until she found his buttocks. She held on as they flexed. He moved more forcibly than before. Her hips lifted to match his rhythm, the friction of their bodies sending spiraling pleasure to her very core.

“Oh, my God.” The restless flames of desire erupted within her. Erupted into a firestorm. At her first scream, he took her mouth. Their lips melded, tongues tangled, hands gripping, their bodies merging in a frantic and driving need. He thrust harder, faster, and even more powerfully. She gave herself over to him, sinking her nails into his buttocks, pulling him close, urging him deeper. She was wild to provoke him as he was provoking her.

They were desperate for each other. Neither trying to dominate, both wanting to take this journey together. The hunger between them was as timeless as a man and a woman. She writhed feverishly; her nails digging deeper as she instinctively matched his rhythm. He squeezed his eyes shut like a man in pain, his breathing rough as moved inside her. Thrusting gently into her melting flesh.

When she was on the brink of climax, he reached down between their bodies to find the engorged bud of her sex. Stunned, she arched against him, straining, crying out as a shattering, burning sensation broke within her.

Ambrose captured her wild moans with his mouth but never stopped thrusting, using all his skills to prolong her ecstasy as wave after wave of rapture convulsed her voluptuous body. When she bucked and writhed against him, he clenched his teeth, striving for control, trying desperately to keep his savage need in check as he lay buried deep inside her.

It was too much. A great shudder moved through his frame as he quickly withdrew from her heat and at last let himself fall. A hoarse moan ripped from his throat as he plunged into an endless raw pleasure so intense it seared.

Finally, it was over. He lay there in the warm drawing room, shaken, but eventually regained consciousness. When he felt her trembling beneath him, a fierce tenderness engulfed his heart.

In the aftermath of their dalliance, the warm glow of the Yule log had long since died down, replaced by the flickering light of a single candle on the mantle. Eleanor lay lost in his embrace. Eleanor’s breathless laughter echoed softly as Ambrose pulled her closer, content to bask in the joy of the moment.

“We should dress.” Ambrose, ever the gentleman, helped her with her gown. They were both only partially clothed when they heard the front door crashing open, loud arguing voices below, followed by the heavy, determined footsteps of intruders. Eleanor gasped, pulling away from Ambrose, her heart pounding with sudden fear.

“What on earth?” Ambrose murmured, his voice low and protective. They looked at each other before both of them dove for the rest of their clothes. With his breeches already on, Ambrose pulled on his shirt. Eleanor tried to right her messy hair. They could hear a commotion below, still transpiring.

He’d just finished helping her do up the last hooks on her gown when Jacob yelled from outside the door. “Redington’s men are here. They’ve come for Harry,” Joseph huffed from the doorway.

Just then, the sounds of footsteps grew closer. Ambrose strode to the door and threw it open. He moved to Joseph’s side, Eleanor at his back.

He pushed past the butler and stepped into the corridor. “You will stop and explain this intrusion,” he boomed in his ducal tone.

The authority in his voice was enough to make the three men stop, their eyes cold and resolute. The tallest one, clearly the leader, sneered. “Lord Redington sends his regards. We’re here for the boy. I’d advise you to move aside.”

Eleanor’s face drained of color. “You can’t take him! He’s my son!”

Ambrose, his half-dressed state, doing nothing to diminish the authority in his stance. “You will not touch him,” he declared, his voice hard as steel.

The leader laughed harshly. “And who’s going to stop us? You?”

In a blur of movement, one man lunged at Ambrose, who dragged him into the drawing room. The room erupted into chaos. Ambrose sidestepped the attack, his fist connecting solidly with the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Another assailant charged, but Ambrose, fueled by fury and determination, met him head-on. They grappled, the sound of their struggle mingling with Eleanor’s panicked cries.

Eleanor’s eyes darted to the door, her mind racing. She couldn’t let them take Harry. Summoning her courage, she grabbed a fireplace poker, brandishing it like a weapon. “Stay back!” she warned the third man, who hesitated, his eyes widening in surprise.

The leader, recovering from his initial shock, sneered at Eleanor. “You think you can stop us, woman?”

Ambrose, now free of the second attacker, stepped in front of Eleanor, his protective instincts flaring. “You will not touch her or the boy. I’ll see you hanged,” he growled.

The men’s faces drained of color, and they stood like shocked statues, giving Ambrose his chance.

With a swift, powerful move, Ambrose disarmed the leader, pinning him against the wall. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded, his voice deadly calm. “I am the Duke of Hampton. If you value your lives, you will leave now and tell Lord Redington to call on me if he dares.”

The leader’s bravado crumbled, fear flickering in his eyes. “Duke… I didn’t know…”

“Now you do. You can tell him that Lady Eleanor and her son are under my protection, as she is my betrothed,” Ambrose snapped. “Leave.”

The men, thoroughly cowed, scrambled to their feet and fled the room, leaving a tense silence in their wake. Eleanor dropped the poker, her hands trembling. Ambrose turned to her, his eyes softening with concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked, gently taking her hands in his.

Eleanor nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you, Ambrose. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always protect you, Eleanor. You and Harry. I promise.”

“Redington will see through your bluster about an engagement. We can’t fool him forever.”

He tipped her chin up. “I had hoped to discuss the idea with you first, but I thought it best to set the men straight. I was going to ask you to become my duchess, anyway. I think we work well together.”

Was it his words of marriage, or the terror of the three men sent to steal her son? Whatever it was, it was all too much and Eleanor fainted dead away.

Ambrose caught Eleanor before she hit the floor. Calling for Joseph, he carried her to the settee where he’d just shared such pleasure with her and lay her down. “Fetch her maid. I need to ensure the men have gone and organize my men to stand guard from now on until I’ve dealt with Redington.”

“Of course, my lord.”

With that, he grabbed his coat and pulled it on while he ran down the stairs and organized her staff. A couple of grooms went with him as they confirmed the carriage and men had left. He gave a few orders before he crossed the road to his home and selected a trusted few to take shifts guarding the entrances to Eleanor’s house.

When he was certain she and Harry and of course Lillian would be safe, he called an end to his house party and set his staff to helping his guests leave. Only then did he head back to find Eleanor.

Once he returned to the drawing room, where someone had re-stoked the fire and several pots of tea were visible, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Eleanor’s face had its color back, and she seemed composed.

“Both Lillian and Harry slept through the intrusion,” she said. She covered her face with her hands. “If anything had happened to the children...”

He pulled her into his arms. “But it didn’t and I’ve taken steps to ensure they remain safe in the house. Some of my men will remain to help guard the doors, both front and back.”

She sagged against him. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you were not here. I have a lot to thank that mistletoe for,” and she gave a tense chuckle.

“I’m sorry our night had to end this way. I will send a missive to Redington in the morning and, in no uncertain terms, explain my displeasure, and the consequences should anything like this occur again. “

“He’s getting bolder. He will take Harry from me soon and I’ll have no grounds to stop him.”

“Once we are wed, there will be no cause to take Harry. No court would say I was not suitable to become Harry’s guardian. I’d go to Prinny myself if I have to.”

She leaned back to look into his eyes, her expression filled with disbelief. “Your statement to those men was serious?”

“Of course. I think we will suit very well, don’t you?” He hated how he couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but she stilled in his arms. Thinking of the shock she’d had tonight, he said, “Perhaps we could talk more once we have both had some sleep. I shall call again after lunch tomorrow. Perhaps even take the children for a drive in the park in the afternoon if the weather holds.” She didn’t appear to hear him. “So, I’ll call after lunch.”

“Pardon? Oh, yes, after lunch will be perfect.” Then she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” Then he released her from his arms and took his leave. He had much to plan and a letter to write to Redington. He didn’t worry about telling Lillian, for he was very sure she would be delighted with his decision to wed Eleanor.

Eleanor walked to her bedchamber as if in a dream. Ambrose had protected her against Redington and he’d asked her to become his duchess. Then why wasn’t she ecstatic? The Duke of Hampton was the answer to her situation regarding her son. He was handsome and kind and would be wonderful to Harry, and yet deep inside she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

There was nothing romantic about his proposal of marriage. Why that was suddenly important to her, she refused to face. Her original goal when thinking of marrying again was to select a kind, gentle man who would love Harry and look after her. Ambrose certainly fit that description.

So why wasn’t she bursting with joy?

Sarah was waiting for her in her room. “Thank goodness His Grace was here. I’d like to slap Lord Redington’s face.”

“Thank you, Sarah. I’d like to do more than slap Redington. It was most fortunate, His Grace was here.” She let Sarah help her undress.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you,” and she winked at Eleanor. “A duchess. You’re going to be a duchess. I hope you’ll take me with you.”

“News travels fast.” She smiled at her lady’s maid. “If I marry Ambrose, you shall, of course, come with me.”

“If? I’m sorry, my lady, but you can’t say no. The Duke is wonderful and it would be awful to let Redington get his hands on your son.”