Page 6 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

What he’d not expected was his strong attraction to her. When Michael introduced them, Lady Katherine had smiled shyly and blushed, the combination so becoming he’d wanted to destroy her too-tight chignon and tangle his fingers in her hair as he mastered her mouth. Christ, he’d near itched to tear that horrendous white velvet gown from her delicate curves and drown in the honey from her sweet virgin cunt.

But no. Only Michael would know that. Only her husband would hear her moans and gasps as he fucked her to exhaustion and filled her again and again with his seed until her belly swelled with the needed heir…

“Aye, most amiable,” Gerard bit out, once again wanting to throw something. The heavens truly were laughing at him. Having his man marry another was bad enough, but wanting to debauch a wellborn Sassenach lady as well? Damn everything to hell.

“Well, it’s done now,” Mrs. Calder said, patting his arm. “We’ll all be praying her ladyship conceives swiftly; the sooner there’s a son in the nursery, the sooner everything can go back to how it was.”

Gerard closed his eyes briefly as his gut churned. It sounded so easy. Yet how would he bear it, knowing they were together in the adjacent bedchamber trying to make that bairn? “Would ye do me a service and send his lordship upstairs after the wedding feast?”

“You’re not staying for a bite to eat?”

He forced a smile. Watching the smug, fawning Kirks toast to happiness and a fruitful union would be a bridge too far. Even watching the Uffingdons would be too much; no matter how accepting they’d been, this was what they truly wanted: their son legally wed and about to do his duty in securing the line. “I need tae ensure everything is just so for tonight. But save me a generous slice o’ cake.”

“Always,” said Mrs. Calder fondly, patting his arm once more before bustling away to put the fear of God into the servants setting up the formal dining room.

Now that the ceremony was complete and the newlyweds were signing the register and other legal necessities, Gerard took the opportunity to flee the drawing room and hurry upstairs. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fast enough to miss the sympathetic looks directed at him from maids and footmen, even Kenney the butler. Everyone had worked here for a very long time and knew what was what. No soul had ever breathed a word; Michael was a man who inspired fierce loyalty.

As soon as he was alone in Michael’s blue-colored and herbal-scented bedchamber, Gerard went directly to the four-poster bed, took a cushion and slammed it against the embroidered quilt several times. Then he took a ragged breath in a futile attempt to compose himself. There was work to be done—Michael would need a sponge bath and shave before his wedding night. No doubt he would attend his new bride in a nightshirt and his favored black silk quilted robe, which must be inspected and brushed. Oh yes, and another task to attend to: unlocking the adjoining door between the earl and countess’s bedchambers and oiling both hinges. It hadn’t been used in a very long time.

For what seemed like an eternity, Gerard ruthlessly occupied himself with the mindless tasks. Then he starched cravats, sewed a few loose buttons, even prepared two fresh jars of the lavender ointment he smeared on Michael’s stiff shoulders each week. Anything to distract himself from the reality of the day: there was now a lady in the household.

Katherine Whitmore. Michael’s wife.

“There you are, Gerry. I missed you.”

Gerard looked up, and once again, a thousand emotions churned within. His lover might be smiling, but his strain was evident to someone who knew him so intimately. Michael was finding this equally difficult.

Bracing himself, Gerard held out his arms. “Come here, mo chridhe.”

Michael strode across the chamber, almost tripping on the rug in his haste, before wrapping his lean form around Gerard. “The wedding ceremony was so hard. Much harder than I thought it would be. And poor Katherine…I wasn’t a good conversationalist during the feast.”

“I’m sure she’ll forgive ye,” said Gerard gruffly, rubbing Michael’s back then pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t be so kind,” said Michael, burrowing closer. “I don’t deserve it, putting you through this. And worse…I find her attractive. I…I didn’t mind kissing her, and I hate myself for that.”

“Stop right there,” Gerard growled. “I’ll nae permit such blather. ’Tis nae a sin tae find someone attractive. There are thousands of attractive people in London—I see them all the bloody time, and dinnae love ye any less.”

“But I have to bed her,” whispered Michael. “What if I like it?”

Gerard clenched his jaw. He had to get his man through tonight and the rest, successfully bed the lass until she was pregnant. Otherwise all the sacrifice and drinking and upset would have been for naught. “Mo chridhe, ye need tae like it, if that fine cock is tae do its duty. And like I just said, it willnae diminish our love. That is something quite separate.”

“Will you…will you punish me afterward?”

“If the reward for toil ye crave is a warmed backside, then aye.”

Michael shivered, his hips thrusting just a little. The man couldn’t hide his desires, one of the many things Gerard adored about him. “And my nipples clamped. Then you coming in my mouth. Do you promise, Gerry?”

“Aye,” Gerard repeated, his cock starting to throb at the thought. While he regularly punished his earl with delayed gratification or sexual accessories, he preferred saving a spanking for special occasions. This was certainly such a time. “But first I must ready ye for a wedding night. Where is the countess?”

Michael sighed deeply and, with obvious reluctance, stepped back from Gerard’s embrace. “Downstairs with her family, but I believe she’ll be in her chamber soon. The marchioness will assist her tonight rather than a lady’s maid; Katherine confided to me that she wishes for a new one not connected to her parents’ household.”

“Good for her. A first step toward independence. But we mustn’t dawdle, my lord, otherwise Lady Queenhill will have far too much time tae blather about marital duty.”

“Christ,” said Michael, almost smiling. “Good point. I’m going to need some advice, though. Feels like forever since I bedded those courtesans.”

Gerard straightened his shoulders. He could do this. They could do this. The first time would no doubt be the worst, as it was with any new lover, especially a near-stranger. At least Katherine was a virgin, so wouldn’t have any firm expectations of how bedding should be. Michael’s inexperience with women would hopefully be far less obvious. “I’ll fetch some oil tae help prepare her; we certainly dinnae want the lass shying away from future bedding because it hurt too much. Ye must ensure her ladyship is wet and eager. And that she comes. Some women only do so when their clitoris is gently rubbed or kissed. Do not leave her unsatisfied.”

Michael nodded solemnly, then reached out and caressed Gerard’s cheek. “I understand. Sir.”