The beast of yorkshire, p.13
The Beast of Yorkshire, page 13
“Let me? You begged me. You screamed my name,” he growled. “The entire household heard you, and they’re about to hear you again.”
Penelope felt herself being lifted in the air. “What are you doing?”
“Wrap your legs around my waist.”
“No. Put me down.” She struggled in his arms and pushed at his shoulders. She felt his lips on the base of her neck, suckling hard. “Ow, stop! What are you doing?”
“Marking you as mine.”
His right hand cupped, ground, and shaped her left breast, pinching the nipple until it stood erect, while his left cradled her bottom, and squeezed it. His bare right leg was wedged between hers, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. She sucked in a breath when he lowered his head and strongly suckled at her right breast while he still manipulated her left with his hand. This was not her tender lover of earlier, and she tried desperately not to respond to his touch. She attempted to remain stiff and uncaring after all the hateful things he had just said to her, but soon her fisted hands were gripping his shoulders instead of pushing him away.
He removed his hand from her breast and she heard a whimper. Had that come from her? Then there was a moan when his finger prodded her feminine core. How could she still want him so badly and be so angry at him? What had he done to her? He had turned her body into a traitor. He found that hidden jewel that drove her mad, that she had not known existed less than twenty-four hours earlier. Penelope felt her body tightening as he continued to toy with her. Then he stopped. She shifted her hips in a silent plea for release, but his finger stayed just far enough away.
He hovered, letting her feel his presence, but refusing to give her the relief she craved. “Beg me,” he demanded.
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of what he said. She was too lost in the sensual haze, her body craving the experience once more that his had taught her to expect from him. A spark shot through Penelope when he lightly pinched that bud.
“Beg me. Tell me what you want from me,” he ordered.
“I want you to put me down and leave me alone.”
“I don’t believe that, Pen,” he said, shortening her name. “If you wanted that, you wouldn’t be holding onto my shoulders or wrapping your legs around me. You’d push me away, not pull me closer. Now, tell me what you want.”
“I hate you,” she growled before she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and kissed him as he had taught her.
Duncan ripped their mouths apart then fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back. He dropped kisses along her graceful, slender neck. “Tell me how much you need me. How much your body is weeping for mine,” he whispered in her ear.
“No,” she said, but couldn’t contain the shiver of desire his words caused.
“Don’t deny it, I can feel it.” To prove his point, he plunged a finger deep into her feminine core. “Your body is crying for me, witch,” he whispered against her ear.
She was embarrassed to admit it was true. Her sheath was drenched with wanting him, even though he was being an accusatory ass. She could feel his manhood teasing her entrance after he removed his finger. She tried to shift, to take him inside her, but he kept her pinned right where he wanted her. “Why are doing this? I haven’t done anything. I swear I came here a virgin.” She didn’t know it was possible for him to get any angrier, but he did.
“Damn him, and damn you.” He placed her on her feet and went to his knees.
“What are you doing?” she asked dazedly.
“You’ll beg me before the night is through.”
She yelped when his mouth replaced where his finger had been moments earlier. Her body was taut with sexual tension. He spent his time pushing her ever closer to the precipice but refusing to let her crash. She gripped his shoulders then fisted her hands in his hair in a non-verbal attempt to demand he give her release, but he refused to comply. Finally, she could take no more. “Please,” she whimpered.
“What?” he demand as he pulled away and rose.
“Please, Beast,” she snarled.
He made no comment, merely lifted her up, spread her wide, and pushed forcefully into her.
She threw her head back, her breath stolen with his possession. Yes, it was primitive and he was rough, but goodness help her, she liked it. Not every time perhaps, but she found it exciting as he pulled out quickly then slammed back into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using the leverage to pull him closer. Penelope heard the sounds escaping her and couldn’t stop them, the whimpers, the moans, the mewling.
“Look at me.” Duncan’s words somehow reached her ears. “Bloody hell, look at me. I want you to know that it’s me and not him inside you.”
His words shocked her into looking at him.
“You’re my wife, dammit, and only mine. Un…der…stand?” Each syllable was punctuated by a thrust. “Who am I?”
“Duncan,” her voice caught.
“Who?”
“The Beast,” she repeated.
“Who?”
“My husband,” she replied tearfully. Penelope was so close to the precipice that she shook. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and plunged downward forcefully as he moved upwards into her one last time, and together they reached the pinnacle. She held him tightly as he leaned against her while they both recovered, letting their breathing return to normal. He slipped from her, and it felt as if a chasm had developed between them. Penelope let out a squeal as he tossed her onto his bed.
“You’ll sleep here from now on, where I can watch you. When you begin to show, I’ll send you and your mother away for a time on the pretense of you getting help for her. I expect you to give the child away. I refuse to raise another man’s bastard. When you return, we shall begin working on begetting an heir. In the meantime, you’ll be the perfect wife, in every way, including in the bedroom. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand,” she stood up, fisted hands on hips, uncaring of her nudity. “I came to you a virgin. If I am with child, it is yours. I don’t understand why you’re angry or why you would want me to give away our child, which I will not do.”
“You should get a job on Drury Lane.”
“I thought we were to trust one another.”
“That was before I realized I had married a lying, scheming bitch. I’m done talking about this. Get in bed and go to sleep, I’m tired.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself and sleep on the floor if you want, but you will stay in this room.”
“I hate you.”
“I believe you already said that once tonight.”
“I thought you were going to court me. To prove that we would be good together.”
“You put paid to that,” he said and looked pointedly at her flat stomach before turning his back to her and pulling the sheet and blanket over his body.
Chapter 10
The next few weeks were strained between them and the entire household felt it. They rarely said a few words to one another during the day. During the afternoons Penelope often walked the garden or toured the local sights. Most of the time someone accompanied her. Other times, like today, she was able to slip away undetected. Several times she went back to the ruins where she had been so blissfully naïve. On more than one of those occasions, Duncan had joined her there and new, even more passionate memories had been created, because no matter how much she disliked him at the moment she couldn’t deny him using her body. She wanted to hate him, but she was a willing participant in their carnal activities. Her body had become addicted to his, and she hated herself for it.
She went to Robin’s Hood Bay and found the people quite friendly to her face, but what she heard them say behind her back was damning and hurtful. It had not taken long for the villagers to find out that her grandfather had sold her to Duncan. She vaguely wondered who told them, but shrugged it off deciding it really didn’t matter since it was the truth.
Penelope had continued on, trying to ignore the mean things they were saying about her. She had even visited with the sister of the girl who had died the night of the press gang’s attack on the village. She had taken her a gift and commiserated with her on what it felt like to lose a sister. The young woman still held resentment towards Duncan for not doing more. Despite everything, Penelope defended him and told her how guilty he felt about Anna’s death. The two hugged and promised to visit again.
Penelope walked back to the top of the village and then followed the cliff for some time until no one could be seen in either direction. She found a trail and carefully picked her way down to the solitary beach. Why did I defend him? She wondered, angry with herself. He has been nothing but a beast, using your body to slake his lust every night as one might with a harlot, and acting like you don’t even exist during the day. But you’re enjoying your nights together and the things he’s teaching you, the devil on her shoulder taunted.
“Shut up,” she muttered to herself. Penelope removed her bonnet and the pins from her hair and let it fall down her back. In London, she would have never been allowed to do this. But this was not London. She sat down, removed her sturdy walking boots and stockings, and dug her toes into the moist sand. She giggled like a young girl in leading strings at the feeling. “This is delightful,” she said laughing. The laughter died as she realized she had no one to share it with. She tossed the items she removed further up the beach, away from the water.
Penelope walked along the edge of the surf and after the initial temperature shock, she found she liked it. Perhaps because it’s cooling your overheated body from thinking about your husband. The way he touches you. The way you touch him.
“Shut. Up,” she growled, kicking at the foamy waves in frustration. She lifted her dress to just above her knees and walked further into the water. Penelope stood there getting caught up in the rhythm of the waves. She enjoyed the way they crashed into her and then sucked the sand from around her feet as the water was pulled back to create another wave. She looked around and saw no one. Before she could change her mind, she stripped off her dress and petticoats until she only wore her shift. She raced back up to the beach, folded them, and placed them under her boots so the wind wouldn’t scatter them.
She walked into the water again and shivered a bit before her body became accustomed once more. This time she went into her waist, allowing the surf to rock against her. She took a step and felt something speed away under her foot causing her to lose her balance and fall. The water quickly covered her head and tossed her about. Her lungs burned for air when she felt the sandy floor against her cheek. Penelope put her hands out and pushed off the bottom, hoping to break the surface of the water soon. She did and quickly gulped in air. She got her legs beneath her, but couldn’t feel the bottom.
How had the beach gotten so far away so fast? She wondered just before panic sunk in. She looked at the sky just before a wave crashed over her head. Wonderful, a storm, too, Penelope thought. She fought her way back to the surface purely out of instinct and a need for survival, because she didn’t know how to swim. She took another breath and let out a short lived cry for help before she was once again forced under. She flailed and grew weaker and more tired every time another wave pushed her under. And now the sky had opened up releasing the rain in a deluge, causing the water to churn where only minutes before it had been calm and soothing. How much longer can I last? Will Duncan remarry, or will he give up believing he really is cursed? And what if there is a baby now? That thought gave her a renewed sense of fight. She broke the surface and screamed for all she was worth.
* * *
“Did you hear that?” Duncan shouted over the rain to the men in the fishing boat. He had gone out with them needing to expel some of the pent-up tension he had felt since the night he and Penelope consummated their marriage. Now he thought it might have been serendipitous that he chose today of all days over the last few weeks to help the fishermen.
“No,” they chorused, eager to be home and out of the weather that had quickly turned sour.
“Listen,” he urged them all to focus.
“Help!”
“Over there!” Duncan pointed in the direction he had seen a head bob out of the water, shouting to be heard over the storm. “Turn the boat.”
“Can’t, Your Grace, we’ll hit rocks and break up. We’ll lower a dinghy.”
“Take too long.” He was already pulling off his boots. He climbed over the railing and propelled himself into the intense water. Every time he spotted the person, they were a little further out of reach. Using his body, he rode the waves toward the person. It was a trick he and Reese used to do when they were children. Never did he think he could use child’s play to save someone’s life. He saw a hand barely sticking up out of the water. He encircled the wrist like a manacle, barely noting how slim it was in his grasp.
The combination of his powerful strokes and the waves had him reaching the quickly shrinking beach in no time. He managed to signal to the fishermen he had worked with today that they had reached safety and saw the boat continue on. Duncan looked beside him and noticed two things almost simultaneously, the person he rescued was his wife and she wasn’t breathing.
* * *
When Penelope became aware of her surroundings, unfortunately it was accompanied by her expelling water from her body in a most hideous way and a rather large someone straddling her back and pushing on her over and over. If they didn’t stop, she was afraid she would be eating the sand beneath her. She tried to buck them off of her, but she was so weak. Why? She wondered. Then it all came back to her. She had played in the waves when something moved under her foot and caused her to fall. She had been sucked out to sea and fought for her life. The person managed to purge her body of more ocean water and then crawled off her and turned her over.
“You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive.” Duncan pulled her into a fierce hug as the rain poured around them. “What were you doing?” He gripped her arms and shook her. “Do you realize how dangerous the water is for someone who doesn’t know how to swim? And in a storm, no less. Were you trying to kill yourself?”
All she could manage was to shake her head in the negative.
“Then explain to me what you were doing!” he yelled at her, his demand punctuated by a lightning bolt and clap of thunder that caused them both to jump. “Bloody hell, we’ve got to get off this beach.”
He looked around and the next thing she knew, he stood up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed towards the rocky cliff face. She wiggled around to try and see where they were going when she felt his hand swat her almost bare posterior.
“Be still or both of us will go crashing into those rocks and crack our skulls open.”
About halfway up the cliff face, after several close calls, they entered a shallow cave. It was about twelve feet deep and seven feet tall, but was only wide enough for two people to sit or lay side by side with very little extra space to spare. He put her down. After he helped her scurry into the cave, he quickly followed. Shivers began to run up and down her body and she broke out in gooseflesh, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the storm, the fact that she was wet, or that she had nearly died.
“What in bloody hell were you thinking?”
She bit her lip to try to keep the tears at bay that threatened to fall.
“Was there anyone else with you?”
“No,” she managed.
“Was this your way of fixing things? To take your own life?”
“No!” she turned and yelled at him. “I was doing something I had never done before. I was playing in the surf. I was enjoying myself. I was not thinking about you or me or our horrible marriage. Then something moved under my foot and I lost my balance. The next thing I knew, I was swept away from the beach and fighting to stay above water.”
“A combination of the storm and high tide coming in. Horrible marriage, huh?”
“What would you call it? You only use me to satisfy your physical needs.”
“Are you going to tell me you aren’t enjoying yourself?”
“I’m going to sleep. Wake me when we can leave, unless of course I need to take care of you first.”
“As a matter of fact,” he said before pushing her backwards.
Penelope tried to remain immune to his touch, tried to remain stiff and unyielding, but she couldn’t. He had learned her body too well. Learned what it liked and what it demanded. By the time he slowly entered her, she was on fire with need. She pulled him to her, held him close, and encouraged him. Just as she was about to climax, he pulled free of her.
“What?” she asked, devastated, her body tormented with unfulfilled passion.
“Face the ocean and get on your hands and knees,” he said.
“Why?”
“So you can watch the beauty and fury of the storm and ocean while I bring you to your peak.”
Unsure, but ready to answer her body’s demands, she did as he instructed. Soon, her breath was coming in gasps as he entered her from behind. He felt so incredibly deep this way. Every time a wave crashed, he plunged into her. He teased her breasts to perky attention. Before long, she slammed backwards to meet his every thrust as she watched the waves crash onto the rocks below. The shoreline had disappeared with the rising tide. Her clothes floated out to sea, but all she cared about was this man she had unwillingly married. This man who had been hurt so often, he was like a frightened animal, afraid to trust anyone with his heart. She fought to keep the wall she had erected around hers in place, but it became increasingly hard to keep it from crumbling into bits.
Penelope brazenly took his hand and tried to move it where she wanted him to touch her. She was so close to flying she just needed him, there.
“Touch yourself,” he bent over and whispered at her ear.
“No,” she shook her head as he continued to work in and out of her.
“I’m not going to do it. This is a new lesson.”
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t turn me into a harlot.”
