Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

“Will it hurt? I have been told … I have heard it hurts the first time, Harry.”

At that moment it occurred to Harry that the sensual part of his nature, fight against it though he might, had at least prepared him for this moment. He would not need to fumble. He knew what to do, he knew how to please her and ensure this experience was the best that it could be. The other women had meant nothing to him—it was Sophy he loved—but they had tutored him in ways that would make this moment perfect.

“It may hurt a little,” he answered her. “Then it will feel good. I will make you feel good.”

He tucked her hair behind her ears, and slid his hand again to her nape, holding her head as he bent to kiss her, gently at first, then more deeply. She made a soft sound, opening her mouth to him, and was soon lost in the sensations he was evoking. By the time he drew back her eyes were closed, long dark lashes fanning her cheeks, waiting for what came next.

“I want to be yours,” she told him. “Oh Harry, I’ve wanted to be yours forever.”

Harry sank down onto the grassy ground, resting his back against the fallen stone, and reached up to pull her down onto his lap. His cock was an iron rod inside his breeches and he knew she could feel him, though whether his innocent Sophy knew what it meant he wasn’t so certain. She nestled against him and he kissed her hair, his lips following the curve of her forehead, before rubbing his nose against hers.

She stretched up and found his mouth with hers. “I love it when you kiss me,” she whispered. “I want you to kiss me all the time, Harry.”

He smiled. “And so I will. All the time.” He reached inside her cloak, gripping her waist a moment as he told himself again to slow down. He knew now that he was right and her nightgown was the only thing between him and her naked body. He smoothed his fingers over her warm skin, and slid his hands around to her back, finding the curve of her bottom and tugging her body closer to his.

Their kisses had become more desperate now, and he could feel her tremble, hear her breathing quicken. He told himself they had time, there was no hurry, but he wasn’t sure he could wait much longer.

He began to kiss her again, worshipping her, but she was restless when he wanted her languid and compliant. She unknotted his neckcloth and pulled it off, her fingers exploring his neck, and then slid them down to the opening of his shirt.

“Harry, I want … I want …” Her fingers were tugging at the cloth. “Can I see you?”

It was unexpected but Harry wasn’t at all adverse. He leaned back and, gripping his shirt, pulled it off over his head, and tossed it aside. She put her palms flat against his bare skin, holding them there as if she wanted to memorise him.

Harry had prepared himself for his innocent Sophy to feel frightened, anxious, even repulsed by the physical nature of his love for her, but she seemed to feel none of those things.

“You’re so warm,” she said. She began to smooth her hands over him—she seemed fascinated. “So different,” she said. “And hairy too.”

He chuckled and then groaned as her fingers went lower, following the dark trail that ran from his belly button to the fastening of his breeches. At the sound her gaze returned to his, calculating, and then dropped down again, to the bulge in the front of his pants.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“You,” she said. “I want you, Harry.”

SOPHY

He was kissing her again, his tongue seeking to learn her mouth, holding her face so that he could keep her right where he wanted her. Harry had kissed her many times before, but none of them had held such desperate, heartfelt emotion. He seemed to be delving into her very soul. He took her breath away, and she let him. She gave him everything, holding nothing back, risking all in this moment.

Her nightgown had rucked up over her thighs and now he groaned her name, his fingers on her bare skin. He brushed over the swell of her breasts, still hidden by the thin clo

th, and she gasped at the sensation. His eyes burned into hers.

“My turn now.”

Sophy wasn’t sure if he would find her body beautiful. She thought not. She was slender and her figure girlish, not womanly. But Harry didn’t seem to care.

He placed his mouth over the tip of one breast, sucking her hard nipple through the cloth that still covered her and the sensation left her damp. His hand stroked the other, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the aching bud. Tingles ran down her spine, making her arch her back, and her thighs tightened, as if to keep the pleasure from spilling out of her.

She reached for him, fingers gripping his shoulders as if to anchor herself. She had thought when this time came that she might be shy, uncertain, but she was neither. She wanted this. She wanted Harry. And what better place than in the heart of ancient Pendleton to plight their troth to one another.

His mouth was still on her breast and the sensation was so painfully exquisite she gave a cry. He raised his head to kiss her mouth again, his tongue playing with hers. This went far beyond her experience and although she wondered where he had learned such things, she pushed the spark of jealousy aside. It didn’t matter. They had each other now.

Eagerly, she began to explore his chest with her lips and hands, learning his lean body. His breathing stuttered as if her fingers on him were as pleasurable an experience for him as his were for her. She wanted to kiss him all over.

“Do it then,” he said hoarsely, and she realised she’d spoken aloud.

She trailed a finger down his breast bone, leaning in to kiss his flat nipples, using her tongue as he had on her. When she reached his belly button he choked a laugh. He had always been ticklish. Again Sophy bent her head to the line of coarse hair that led beneath the fastenings of his breeches. He was swollen down there, eager as any of Sir Arbuthnot’s bulls, and a shiver of anticipation rushed through her. She rested her hand upon him, feeling the hard resistance.

His breathing turned ragged. He covered her hand with his, stilling her, but she ignored his unspoken caution, and began to undo the buttons. She looked at him again, awaiting permission. He swallowed and his hands fumbled as he pulled down his breeches far enough so that she could gain access.