He smiled then and after a few moments he moved again, flexing his hips just enough to remind her there was no turning back. Imogen slid her hands to his shoulders and he levered up. His thrusts grew faster, deeper until a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin. There was no pain, in fact, there was another sensation building inside her–a slow burn that consumed her every thought. She wanted more. More of Peter. Imogen hooked her legs around his hips and clung.
The change in position doubled her desire. The ache where Peter joined with her grew until she thought she might explode. She met Peter’s gaze and bit her lips. She was sure she was going somewhere but she had no idea where. Peter shifted and his fingers tangled between her legs again. Imogen squeezed her eyes shut as she stiffened all over, fighting for breath and strangely escape from her own body. Every nerve in her body shuddered. Every sense stretched then shrank in an instant. She sucked in air desperately as her body slowly relaxed.
After a time she grew aware Peter had stopped moving.
She glanced up quickly. At that moment, Peter groaned, eyes snapping shut as he shuddered and thrust within her a few more times. Then he collapsed against her, buried his face in the crook of her neck and laughed softly. Imogen didn’t think there wasn’t anything funny about making love. In fact, it was the most incredible experience she’d ever had. She pushed at his chest until he sat up a bit, still joined with her but able to meet her gaze. “Does something amuse?”
“I used to dream about you.” He shook his head. “But I’ve just discovered, I’ve a bloody poor imagination. I could never have dreamed up tonight’s adventures, my love.”
“Surely you’ve ...” she gestured to their nakedness, “…made love before.”
He withdrew from her and then pulled her into his arms. “Never. I’m not innocent but believe me you are the only woman I’ve ever made love to.”
She snuggled closer. The idea that there was a difference between intimacy with love, and without intrigued her, but so long as she had the former, Peter’s love, she wouldn’t worry about who he’d had relations with before. “That is exactly what a woman wants to hear at such a moment.”
“Oh no, that’s what my lady has to believe. Lady Watson. I’ve always liked the sound of that, you know.”
Imogen rubbed her cheek against his chest, discovered the sensations tickled and then stilled. “I suppose I should confess I like it, too.”
His grip tightened around her body. “Good. I don’t care what happens next, Imogen, as long as you love me and will be my wife. Preferably by the end of the month. I don’t think I can count on your brother making himself scarce like he did this afternoon too often before we are married.”
She would have to find a way to thank Walter for his support, but not tonight. After an eventful day, Imogen was growing very sleepy. She pulled the sheet over her shoulders with Peter’s help. “He’s very kind. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”
Peter pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. “Well, you have mine now too for all the days of my life. Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake again.”
Imogen covered her mouth as she yawned. She snuggled against Peter, her mind at once sleepy and excited for the future. A future she’d never though to have. She’d underestimated Peter in every way possible. Tomorrow, if she could see, she’d pen a new story in secret, one written just for him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Peter whistled tunelessly as he descended the stairs of Walter George’s house. For the first time ever, he felt completely proud of himself. Imogen would be his wife and although he had anticipated their wedding night, he felt utterly justified in being so bad.
There was a chance that Imogen would not see again and he’d not wanted to deprive her of what she’d wanted. That her desires ran in the same direction as his only made the night before so much sweeter.
He stepped into the dinning room and then reared back as a blow connected with his stomach. He gasped for air and struggled to look for his assailant.
Walter George stood before him, a satisfied expression on his face. George glanced at their friends. “Was that sufficient brotherly outrage do you think?”
Merton dragged him upright, ignoring his groan of pain. “He does appear winded and your sister’s honor has been satisfied. That should be more than enough for the tattletales.”
“I believe it will be, too.” Radley’s jaw clenched and then he hurried out.
Peter rubbed the ache in his stomach. “What the hell are you doing? I promised I would marry her.”
George’s smile grew smug. “We never really dispensed with the rule that made sisters off limits for dalliance. How soon can you get a special license?”
Peter drew a sealed letter from his pocket. “I was about to arrange for this to be sent. I happened to meet the archbishop of Canterbury on several occasions this past year. Nice fellow. Said he’d be very happy to see me wed and get settled. I’m sure I can acquire a license very quickly without having to leave Imogen or Brighton.”
“Good.” George yelled for Perkins and his letter was taken away to be franked and posted. “I was just about to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Peter winced as angry color rose in Walter’s cheeks. Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest choice of words after spending the night in Imogen’s bed. However, it was true. He’d missed several meals yesterday due to his concern for her. He followed Walter and Merton into the dining room, and sat where told.
Merton pulled out a chair to his right. “Can she still see this morning?”
“Yes.” The memory of her sleepy smile and warm expression caused his heart to thump wildly. “She had returned to sleep by the time I left her so it may be a few hours before she’s ready for visitors.”
Merton’s lips twisted into a smirk that he tried to hide. “I’ll let my cousin know. She was most anxious to visit and celebrate the good news of your renewed engagement.”
No one could be happier than himself. “I’m very glad to hear Miss Long will support our happy news. What does your sister say?”