Thank you for your continued support.
I'm currently having laptop troubles and is now using a friend's device.
Updates might be pushed back, but only slightly...the longest might be a week in-between.
Standard disclaimer.
'It's the laudanum.'
That was the thought Gwen repeated to herself last night, until she'd fallen asleep, and it was her first thought, upon waking.
In the fragile gray light of dawn, she climbed out of bed and hunted for her slippers, which were nowhere to be found.
Blearily, she padded barefoot to the marble-topped washstand in the corner, scrubbed her face, and brushed her teeth.
Staring into the oval pedestal looking glass, she saw that her eyes were bloodshot and dark-ringed.
I thought I would die wanting you.
'Arthur probably wouldn't remember,' she thought.
People seldom recalled what they had said, under the influence of medication.
He might not even remember kissing her, beside the carriage, although, the servants would gossip about it interminably.
But, she would pretend that nothing had happened, and with any luck, he would either have forgotten it, or have the grace not to mention it.
Reaching for the bell-pull to summon her maid, she thought better of it and drew her hand back.
It was still early. So, before she began the complicated process of dressing and arranging her hair, she would look in on the patients.
She pulled her cashmere shawl over her nightgown and went to see Arthur first.
Although Gwen hadn't expected him to be awake, the door to his room was ajar and the curtains had been drawn open.
And there Arthur was, sitting up in bed, propped on pillows.
The thick locks of his hair looked damp and clean, and his skin gleaming from a recent shave.
Even there in a sickbed, he looked robust and a bit restless, as if he were chafing at his confinement.
Gwen paused at the threshold. And as tense silence filled the distance between them, a wave of excruciating shyness, caused her to blush.
It didn't help, that Arthur was staring at her, in a way he never had before...bold and vaguely proprietary.
'Something's changed,' she thought.
A faint smile touched Arthur's lips, as he glanced over Gwen, from head to toe, his gaze lingering at the colorful shawl.
She closed the door, but hesitated, feeling nervous about approaching him.
"Why are you awake so early?" she asked.
"I woke up hungry, and I needed a wash and shave, so I rang for Simmons."
"Are you in pain?" she asked in concern.
"Yes," he said emphatically. "Come here and make me feel better."
She obeyed cautiously, her nerves stretched as tightly as piano wires.
And as she drew closer to the bedside, she detected a sharp scent, that was out of place on him and yet oddly familiar… an effusion of pennyroyal and camphor.
"I smell liniment," she said, perplexed. "The kind we use on the horses."
"Mr. Bloom sent up a pot of it from the stables and demanded that we apply a poultice to my ribs. I didn't dare refuse."
"Oh." Her brow cleared. "It works very well," she assured him. "It heals the horses' pulled muscles, in half the usual time."
"I'm sure it does." A rueful grin crossed his lips. "If only, the camphor wasn't burning a hole through my hide."
"Did Simmons apply it full strength?" she asked with a frown. "That concentration was intended for horses...he should have cut it with oil or white wax."
"No one told him."
"It should be removed right away. Let me help."
She began to reach for him but paused uncertainly. The poultice was bound to him beneath his white nightshirt. Either she would have to pull up the shirt and reach beneath the hem, or she would have to unbutton the placket down the front.
Seeing her uneasiness, Arthur smiled and shook his head.
"I'll wait until Simmons returns."
"No, I'm perfectly able to do it," Gwen insisted, her face flushed. "I was a married woman, after all."
"So worldly," he mocked gently, his gaze caressing.
Her lips pressed together in a determined line. Trying to appear composed, as she began on the placket of buttons.
The garment was made of exceptionally smooth white linen, the fabric heavy with a slight sheen.
"This is a very fine nightshirt," she remarked inanely.
"I wasn't even aware that I owned one, until Simmons brought it out."
Gwen paused, perplexed.
"What do you wear to sleep, if not a nightshirt?"
Arthur gave her a leery glance, one corner of his mouth quirking.
And her jaw went slack, as his meaning sank in.
"Does that shock you?" he asked, a glint of laughter in his eyes.
"Certainly not. I was already aware that you're a barbarian."
But her face heated more, as she concentrated resolutely on the buttons.
Finally, the nightshirt gaped open, revealing a brawny, lightly furred chest. And Gwen cleared her throat before asking,
"Are you able to lift up?"
As an answer, Arthur pushed away from the pillows, with a grunt of effort.
Gwen let her shawl drop and reached beneath him, searching for the end of the cloth binding.
It was tucked in at the center.
"Just a moment...
" She reached around him with her other arm, to pull at the end of the cloth. But it was longer than she'd expected, requiring several tugs to free it.
No longer able to maintain the position, Arthur dropped back to the pillows with a pained sound, his weight pinning her hands.
"Sorry," he managed.
Gwen tugged at her imprisoned arms.
"Not at all… but if you wouldn't mind…"
Recovering his breath, Arthur was slow to respond, as he took stock of the situation.
And she was torn between amusement and outrage, as she saw the glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Let me up, you rogue."
His warm hands came up to the backs of her shoulders, caressing in slow circles.
"Climb into bed with me."
"Are you mad?" she asked.
As she strained to free herself, he reached for the loose braid that hung over her shoulder and played with it idly.
"You did last night," he pointed out.
Gwen went still, her eyes widening.
'So he did remember.'
"You can hardly expect me to make a habit of it," she said breathlessly. "Besides, my maid will come looking for me soon."
Arthur moved to his side and tugged her fully onto the bed.
"She won't come in here."
She scowled.
"You're impossible! I should let the camphor burn a few layers of skin off you."
His brows lifted.
"I would think, you'd treat me, at least as well as one of the horses."
"Any one of the horses is better behaved than you," she informed him, reaching into his nightshirt and around his back with one arm. "Even the mule behaves better."
At that, she tugged at the end of the bandage, until it came free.
The mass of the poultice and bindings loosened, and she managed to pull it off and toss it to the floor.
Arthur lay still beneath her ministrations, obviously pleased with himself.
Looking down at the handsome scoundrel, Gwen was tempted to smile back at him.
Instead, she gave him a reproving glance and said,
"Dr. Gauis said, you're supposed to refrain from movements, that will put pressure on your ribs. No pulling or lifting anything. You have to rest."
"I'll rest, as long as you stay with me."
The feel of him was so clean and warm and inviting, that she felt herself weakening.
Carefully she eased into the crook of his arm.
"Is this hurting you?" she asked.
"I'm feeling better by the minute," he replied.
He pulled the covers over them both, enclosing her in a cocoon of white sheets and soft wool blankets.
And Gwen lay against him, front to front, shivering with pleasure, as she felt how perfectly, the hard, warm contours of his body fit against hers.
"Someone will see," she said, a bit worriedly.
"The door's closed." Arthur reached up, to toy with the delicate curve of her ear. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
She shook her head, even though her pulse was racing and he nuzzled against her hair.
"I'm worried, that I might have hurt or frightened you yesterday, in my…" He paused, searching for a word.
"…enthusiasm," he finished.
"You… you didn't know what you were doing."
Self-mockery thickened his voice.
"I knew exactly what I was doing. I just wasn't able to do it well."
His thumb grazed the edge of her lower lip, teasing the full shape. And her breath caught, as his fingers slid across her jaw, nudging the angle upward, stroking the soft skin beneath her chin.
"I meant to kiss you more like…this."
His mouth covered hers with tantalizing pressure.
So hot and slow, his lips coaxing a helpless response, before she could think of withholding it.
He moved ever so gentle, his mouth yet firm and teasing, sending ticklish pangs down to parts of her body, that she didn't even have names for.
The kisses went on and on, a new one starting, before the last had quite ended.
Beneath the covers, one of his hair-roughened legs brushed against hers, eliciting an uncontrolled moan.
Reaching around his neck, Gwen let her fingers sink into his silky blonde hair, shaping his skull.
Arthur's hand drifted along her spine, until he had molded her hips against his. And even through the layers of flannel and linen, that separated them, she felt their bodies conform intimately...her softness yielding to his hardness.
Then, he kissed her more aggressively, his tongue probing, searching deeper, and she moaned at the pleasure of it.
Nothing existed outside of this bed.
There was only the sensuous friction of tangled limbs and gently wandering hands.
Gwen whimpered, as he cupped her bottom and brought her against the hard ridge of his aroused flesh.
Then, he guided her hips in a slow rhythm, rubbing her sensuously against him, until she began to moan with each stroke.
The soft place he teased began to swell and twitch with sensation, and she flushed with shame.
She shouldn't feel this way, she shouldn't want…what she wanted. Because, no matter how close she pressed to him, she needed more.
The desire was so acute, she felt as though she could attack him.
As Gwen squirmed against Arthur, he flinched and gasped, and she realized, she had inadvertently pressed against his ribs.
"Oh…I'm so sorry…" She began to roll away from him, panting.
"No harm done." He kept her in place. "Don't go," he begged.
He was breathing hard...and was in pain...but he didn't seem to care.
"We have to stop," Gwen protested. "It's wrong, and it's dangerous for you...and I feel..."
She paused.
No word in her vocabulary, could account for the seething desperation that filled her, the agonizing tension coiling inside.
Arthur nudged her intimately, the subtle movement drawing a deep shiver from her.
"Don't," she moaned. "I feel hot and ill, and I can't think. I can't even breathe."
She couldn't fathom why he was amused, but as he brushed his lips against her cheek, she felt the shape of his smile.
"Let me help you, love."
"You can't," she said in a muffled voice.
"I can. Trust me."
With that, he pressed her onto her back, his parted lips dragging over her throat and chest. And she didn't even realize, that he'd been working at the fastenings of her clothes, until he'd spread her gown wide open.
She startled, as cool air wafted over her bare skin.
"Arthur..."
"Hush."
The word blew against the tip of her breast.
And she moaned, as his mouth covered it, drawing in the tender flesh with a firm, warm tug.
It seemed that his notion of how to help, was to heap even more torment on her, because, he cupped her breasts in his hands and suckled with the lightest possible pulls, until her hips stirred helplessly, to relieve the merciless tension.
Arthur's palm slid beneath Gwen's nightgown, to clasp her bare hip.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, "Your skin, your shape, every part of you."
His hand slipped between her thighs, easing them apart.
"Open for me…a little more…yes…God! How soft you are, here…and...here…"
He sifted through crisp curls and stroked into the tender furrow, separating the wetly yielding layers, with his fingertips, until an aching peak of flesh was revealed.
Skillfully, he teased around it and traced the melting-soft folds, down to the entrance of her body.
A jolt of surprise shook Gwen, as the tip of Arthur's finger, slipped inside the tightness of her slick womanhood.
Then, her eyes flew open, and she reached down reflexively, gripping his thickly muscled wrist.
Arthur went still, seemingly confounded, as he stared down at her flushed face.
And his expression changed to a mixture of wonder and pleasure and lust.
"Does it hurt, love?" he asked huskily.
Her body had clamped around the intrusion, throbbing and smarting.
"A…a little."
Awkwardly she tugged at his wrist, but he resisted the wordless plea.
Gently his thumb swirled over the tight, sensitive bud and his finger slid deeper inside her, caressing, eliciting such abundant wetness, that she cringed and tried to look passed the tangled bunch of the nightgown around her waist.
Breathing hard, Arthur pressed his lips to the anxious lines of her forehead.
"No, don't worry. You become wet…in here…when your body is ready for me…it's lovely, it makes me want you even more… Ah, sweet…I can feel you holding me."
Gwen could feel it too, her flesh working in lubricious pulls to welcome him.
The invasion withdrew briefly, and then two fingers slipped inside, stretching her uncomfortably tight.
Arthur's entire hand cupped her, the heel of it, pressing against the soft crest of her sex, his fingers thrusting deep, then deeper, and Gwen couldn't help arching in hot confusion.
Too many sensations were rolling up to her, making her heart thump so wildly, that it frightened her.
"Stop," she whispered through dry lips. "Please…I'm going to faint…"
Arthur's taunting whisper tickled her ear.
"Then, faint."
At those words, the tension heightened unbearably.
Gwen spread her legs, helplessly rocking against his hand. And it all began to uncoil with astonishing force, tumbling her headlong, through a release so consuming, it felt like dying.
The sensation kept opening, flowering, and breaking into squeezing shudders. And as she moaned and gasped, Arthur kissed her, sucking at her lips, as if he could taste the sounds of her pleasure.
Then, another surge went through her, the heat spreading in her head, breasts, stomach, and groin, while his mouth never stopped ravishing hers.
After the last liquid shivers had faded, she wilted against him, her head swimming.
And she was vaguely aware of having moved to her side, her face pressed into the softly springy hair, on his chest.
Arthur pulled Gwen's gown, back down over her hip, one hand rubbing her bottom in comforting circles, while his breath eased back to its normal rhythm.
At the moment, she had never wanted to sleep, as much as she did right then, steeped in the warmth of his body, snuggled close in his arms.
But she could hear the distant sounds, of housemaids beginning their morning chores, cleaning the grates, and sweeping the carpets.
If she stayed much longer, she would be discovered.
"Your body has gone as taut as a bowstring," Arthur said, drowsily over her head. "And after all the work I just did to relax you."
A chuckle escaped him, at her mortified silence.
His hand came to her back, caressing the length of her spine.
"Has that never happened to you before?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I didn't know it was possible for women." Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, low and languid.
"No one told you before your wedding night?"
"Lady Gemswick did, but I'm sure, she didn't know anything about it. Or perhaps…"
She paused, as a discomfiting thought occurred to her.
"Perhaps, it's not something that happens to respectable women."
Arthur's hand continued its slow, reassuring glide up and down her back.
"I don't see why it shouldn't." His head lowered, and he whispered near her ear, "But I won't tell."
Timidly, she let her fingers trace the edge, of the great spreading bruise on his side.
"Do other men know how to do…that?" she asked.
"Pleasure a woman, you mean? Yes, all it takes is patience." Arthur played with a few locks of hair, that had come loose from her braid. "But it's well worth the effort. A woman's enjoyment, makes the act more satisfying."
"Does it? Why?"
"It flatters a man's pride, to know that he can make a woman desire him. Also…"
His hand drifted to the soft cove between her thighs, and stroked her through the layer of her nightgown.
"…the way you tightened around my fingers…that's pleasurable for a man when he's inside you."
Gwen hid her face against his shoulder.
"Lady Gemswick made it all sound very simple. But I'm beginning to think, that she left out some important details."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"Anyone who says the sexual act is simple, has never done it properly."
They lay together, listening to the sounds beyond the bedroom.
Outside, groundskeepers began to push wheeled mowers and edgers across the lawn, the bladed cylinders whirring smoothly.
The sky was the color of steel, a strong wind, chafing at the last few bleached brown leaves of an oak tree, near the window.
Arthur pressed a kiss into Gwen's hair.
"Guinevere...you told me, that the last time Liam spoke to you, he said, you weren't his wife..."
She froze, alarm stinging the insides of her veins, as she realized what he was going to ask.
His voice was gentle.
"Was it true?"
She tried to move away, but he kept her firmly against him.
"It doesn't matter how you answer," he said. "I just want to understand what happened."
She would risk everything by telling him. And she had far too much to lose.
But part of her longed to admit the truth.
"Yes," she forced herself to say, her voice thin. "It was true. The marriage was never consummated."
Stay safe!