The Angel of an Astronomer Read online

  The thought of his future father-in-law had his cock behaving better, but not much.

  “My father did give you his permission to marry me, did he not?”

  Nodding, Ben replied, “He practically begged me to marry you. Which had me thinking you might be the spawn of the devil.” His eyes widened in horror. “My sweet Angel, please pardon the curse.”

  “Oh, you’re pardoned. There are times my brother thinks I am.”

  “Brothers are like that,” he remarked, rather relieved she hadn’t taken offense.

  They made it to the third story and Ben paused. “Where would you like to start?”

  A frisson had Angelica gasping. “Perhaps with our clothes. Removing them, I mean.”

  Ben blinked. “Oh, I meant, which room would you like to review first?” he asked, unable to hide a grin of amusement. He had realized it was too late to hide the silhouette of his turgid manhood.

  “May I see your bedchamber? And then the mistress suite?”

  Amazed at her enthusiasm, Ben led the way to the master suite. “I think I should warn you that one of my windows looks out at your window.” When her eyes narrowed with suspicion, he added, “I saw you a couple of nights ago, after I escorted you to your back door.”

  “I watched you regard the observatory and then the moon,” she admitted. “I wondered what you were thinking.”

  “I decided that when spring comes, I’ll have the brick covered in stucco to match the house,” he replied, hoping she would think it more appealing. Then he chuckled. “I was thinking it looked like a phallic symbol. The observatory, I mean.”

  Angelica angled her head to one side. “Oh, well I’m sure I wouldn’t know of such things. At least, not yet,” she murmured, hoping her blush wasn’t apparent.

  Ben stifled a grin as he opened his door, relieved that the bed was made and a lamp had been lit. A fire had been set in the fireplace, so the room was warm.

  The deep navy velvet and gold fabrics that made up the counterpane, drapes, and upholstery on the chairs had been part of the house when he moved in, and he hadn’t given a thought to changing anything.

  “It’s very masculine,” Angelica remarked, a hand sweeping over the counterpane and then up one of the posters.

  Imagining that same hand sweeping over his torso had Ben eliciting a sound of frustration. “The mistress suite is just through there,” he said, motioning to the dressing room door. “I spoke with the housekeeper this morning. She assured me the bed has fresh linens and that the room is dusted everyday. But I rather doubt any of the lamps are lit.”

  He watched as Angelica disappeared into the dressing room. When she didn’t come out, he made his way in. No lamps were lit in the dressing room, of course, but in the dim light from his room, he could see that the door to the mistress suite was open.

  “Angel?”

  “Here,” she replied in a whisper. She stood at one of the windows, the light from the crescent moon bathing her in an ethereal glow.

  Ben thought she looked like an angel without wings.

  He joined her, his fingertips trailing along the tops of her bare shoulder blades until she shivered and stepped into his hold. The bedchamber was chilly—the fireplace probably hadn’t had a fire set in it since the baron had lived there. “If I told you I had no intention of returning you to Worthington House this evening—”

  “I should hope not. I’ve no intention of getting dressed again after being ruined,” she said in a whisper. “At least, not until the morning.”

  Ben blinked at hearing her response and then allowed a nod. “Very well.” He gulped. “In here then?”

  She glanced around the suite. Although she was unable to determine the colors of the furnishings or the carpets from the bit of moonlight through the window, she had the sense she would find the suite appealing in the light of day. In the near darkness, and even with the slight chill in the air, she thought it comforting. “You do not mind?”

  He gave his head a shake. “At least let me see to a fire.”

  He moved to the fireplace, heartened to find some kindling and lumps of coal already in place. Striking a fuzee, he soon had the kindling lit, and a golden glow joined the moonlight.

  Undressing one another as best they could—Ben had to see to his boots while Angelica turned down the bed—they were soon panting with anticipation.

  Left wearing only her chemise, Angelica knew the transparent silk garment did nothing to hide her erect nipples nor her mons. Ben’s gaze lingered on both, and she struggled to keep from wrapping her arms around her middle in an attempt at modesty.

  “You really are an angel,” he murmured, just before he took her lips with his, his hands sliding up her arms and then moving to the back of her waist.

  Angelica thrilled at how his arms pulled her hard against the front of his body, how his warmth enveloped her.

  Then he suddenly stepped back.

  “Do you wish me to take the pins from your hair?”

  Angelica considered how many Banks had used in the elaborate hairstyle and gave a shake of her head. “You’ll be at it for over an hour.”

  He nodded. “Good. Because I wouldn’t know where to start.” He reached for her while she regarded him—all of him—with a sigh of relief. He was trim, with no sign of a belly, and his shoulders were broad and straight. As was his cock, which was clearly aimed in her direction.

  “You’re not frightened of me, I hope. Of it,” he added as he waved at his bobbing member. “It’s a bit... anxious is all.”

  Angelica tried hard to suppress a grin. “No. I feared you would be... old. All saggy and—”

  “Old?” he repeated in mock alarm. “I’ll have you know I am only five-and-thirty,” he added, once again taking her into his arms and pulling her until her body was completely pressed against his. His cock settled against the silk of her chemise and pressed into her soft belly. Likewise, the mounds of her breasts pressed into his torso, and he groaned in satisfaction.

  “You do not look like you are five-and-thirty,” she whispered. She inhaled sharply when one of his hands covered one of her breasts and gently kneaded it through the silk. Her nipple, already puckered, hardened beneath his ministrations. Her thighs, which had begun to tremble, felt damp where they met at the top. An insistent throbbing had just begun there, demanding something be done.

  “Nor do I feel like it,” he whispered, his lips nipping the space between her neck and shoulder. His tongue trailed up to her earlobe, and his teeth nibbled the soft flesh. He thrilled at hearing her soft inhalation of breath. “I might have a week ago, though,” he admitted.

  He had been convinced she would change her mind about this. Insist they instead wait until their wedding day. But her devotion to duty seemed relentless.

  “What happened a week ago?” she asked between soft inhalations of breath.

  “Nothing. I hadn’t yet met you,” he managed to get out before his kisses dropped to the tops of her breasts.

  “Oh. Oh!” She inhaled sharply when his lips settled over one of her silk-covered nipples. “I find I really need to lie down.” She let out a squeak when she was suddenly lifted into his arms and then lowered onto the bed. He followed her down, his hands sliding up the sides of the soft chemise to expose her breasts and belly. A giggle erupted when his lips began trailing down the front of her body.

  “Wait. What do I do?” she asked, between gasps for breath. Her hands found his shoulders, but soon they were beyond her grasp.

  Ben allowed a chuckle as he slid a hand beneath one of her knees and lifted it. “Nothing, my sweet Angel.” He did the same with her other knee. “But, please, whatever you do, don’t stop me.” And then his hands slipped beneath the globes of her bottom and his head dropped down between her legs.

  Angelica inhaled sharply. Stop him? Why ever would she do such a thing? His tongue had found the source of the insistent throbbing, and although whatever he was doing was only making it worse, she didn’t mind. Not on
e bit. Especially when it flicked across that very spot at exactly the perfect angle. At exactly the right moment.

  Her cry of relief and subsequent sob had Ben slowing his ministrations but moving one hand so his fingertips barely touched her belly as he stroked it. He could feel how her body jerked with each spasm of pleasure, feel the waves as they crested beneath her flesh.

  His own cock, hardened and dripping with need, demanded surcease. Although he didn’t wish to hurt her, he knew this one time might be painful. To bury his rod into her while she was still in the throes of her pleasure would surely be better than waiting any longer.

  He didn’t do it quickly, nor did he warn her. He simply impaled her slowly as he slid a hand beneath a thigh and lifted. About to lift the other, he found he didn’t need to—she had already wrapped her legs around his back. Then she stripped the chemise from her body and moved her hands to his shoulders.

  Pulling out just a bit, he held his breath before he thrust himself into her.

  Surely this was heaven. There could be no other word to describe the sight of his satiated betrothed, her skin warm and rosy, her nipples taut. There could be no other word to describe the feel of her tight cocoon as his manhood filled it.

  She met his second thrust, a move so surprising he thought perhaps she had done this before. But her whispered, “Am I doing this right?” had him kissing her open mouth before he managed an, “Oh, yes, my love.”

  Her hands slipped down to his sides, and her fingers gripped his back. Her nails created half-moons in his flesh as he thrust into her again and again.

  His release, intense and powerful and oh, so pleasurable, had him growling and ceasing his movements all at once. Angelica, unsure of what to do, tightened her hold on him as a wash of warmth filled her lower body. Then she watched as he slowly fell down onto her, as if his arms no longer had the strength to hold him up. His head ended up in the space between her shoulder and neck.

  Angelica moved a hand to rest on the back of his head, her fingers stroking his silken hair as she felt his labored breaths against her neck. She allowed a sigh of contentment and then kissed him on the forehead.

  “My Angel,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

  Grinning, Angelica whispered, “My knight in shining moonlight.” Indeed, his entire back was bathed in the glow of the moon through the window.

  Sleep took them both. Cold woke them long enough to pull up the bedcovers. When they were once again snuggled up against one another, Angelica’s head in the small of his shoulder and one leg resting between his, they whispered their plans for a quick wedding and finally returned to slumber.

  The following day

  As promised, Ben returned Angelica to Worthington House by way of the back door, early dawn not quite lighting the eastern sky.

  Their parting kiss was interrupted by the scullery maid.

  “Mornin’, my lady,” she said as she dipped a curtsy, her gaze going from them to the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

  “Good morning,” Angelica replied with a smile. “We’ve been studying heavenly bodies all night. Sir Benjamin has the most amazing telescope in his observatory.”

  “Vera good, milady.” The confused maid dipped another curtsy and quickly made her way to the kitchens as Ben struggled to maintain an impassive expression. “Are you always able to fib so easily?” he asked.

  Angelica blinked. “But, everything I told her was true,” she murmured.

  Ben chuckled and kissed her again. “I have letters to write.”

  “As do I,” she agreed. “But I must have breakfast first.” She gave him another kiss before she said her farewell. “Perhaps we can look at the moon later?”

  Angling his head so he could gaze at the sky above, he allowed a shrug. “If it’s clear. And if it’s not... well, I’m sure we can find a heavenly body to study.”

  A Winter Wedding or Two

  A fortnight later, at St. George’s

  Milton, Earl of Torrington, and his countess, Adele, stood at the front of St. George’s and watched as their daughter, Angelica, said her vows to Sir Benjamin.

  Just to the right of them stood Gabriel, Earl of Trenton, and his countess, Sarah, who had already paid witness to their daughter, Lady Anne, exchanging vows and rings with George Grandby, Viscount Hexham, just a few minutes earlier.

  Tears continued to stream from Sarah’s eyes, even though her daughter had already been married for more than five minutes.

  Lady Anne’s brothers, Gabe and William, watched from a front pew. William, the heir to the Trenton earldom, had only just returned from university the week before and was stunned to discover Trenton House had been turned into a veritable war office.

  Or at least, that’s what all the wedding planning made it look like.

  Having taken on the role of commander, his mother had reviewed stacks of drawings—of gowns and bouquets, cakes and frippery—and had given orders to modistes and drapers, florists and the cook, all in the name of creating the wedding she had always wanted for her daughter.

  Or perhaps it was the wedding she had wanted for herself.

  He couldn’t help but notice that Anne didn’t seem to have much say in the matter, but then his sister had always been easy to please. He decided his new brother was probably marrying her for that very reason.

  Weddings were usually private affairs, but given the number of people in the pews, William realized invitations had been sent to everyone in the ton who had remained in London over the holiday.

  He only wished the double ceremony would be over soon. His stomach was grumbling, and there was a wedding breakfast waiting at Worthington House.

  “Sir Benjamin is a rather handsome man,” Adele whispered to her husband. “Were you his godfather?”

  “Were?” Milton replied with a smirk. “I still am. And he’s the last.”

  “Last?” Adele repeated in confusion.

  “The last godson to get married. I was beginning to think he would never take a wife. Once I found out why, it was easy enough to offer a solution that worked for everyone involved.”

  Adele furrowed a brow. “So you’re the reason our daughter is marrying a lowly knight?” she asked, obviously suspicious.

  Milton’s eyes darted to one side before he leaned sideways and said, “Not me. Her dowry. And the fact that their firstborn son will be an earl.”

  “You bounder!” his countess accused in a hoarse whisper. She took a deep breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, at least until after Angelica’s vows were complete. She had already cried several when George had said his vows to his lovely new wife. “I suppose she might end up a countess,” she added after a moment.

  “That’s the plan,” Milton murmured, a brilliant smile appearing when the couple completed their vows.

  Across the aisle, Benedict, Earl of Wadsworth, offered his mother, Charity, Viscountess Lancaster, his handkerchief as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I thought you’d be happy to gain another daughter,” Benedict whispered. She had only the one, Hope, from her second marriage to Marcus Lancaster.

  “Oh, I am. I just never imagined she would be an angel,” Charity replied, attempting to suppress a sob.

  Angelica’s gown, the white dinner gown Ben had insisted she wear for their wedding, had been altered to include a train. She carried a bouquet of red roses and mistletoe, a secret nod to their first kisses. A ring of red rose buds circled the pile of curls atop her head. When the light showed through the curls, it made them look like a halo.

  Wearing a white muslin shirt, white silk cravat, and a black cutaway coat, Ben looked as if he might have already inherited the Wadsworth earldom. His red waistcoat, embroidered in what he later admitted were depictions of the constellations, was a gift from his brother.

  “Did you see the ring?” Benedict asked in a hoarse whisper, once they had been exchanged in the ceremony.

  “Rings,” Charity corrected him. “Gold, and Angel had his en
graved with their names and the date.”

  “As did he,” Benedict said in defense of his brother. “I rather like the one he gave her upon their engagement, though.”

  Charity angled her head to one side. “Citrine and sapphire, although I cannot imagine why the citrine.”

  “Venus, Mother,” Benedict replied. “His favorite planet, since that’s the one that had them meeting for the first time.”

  His mother’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh, how romantic,” Charity breathed, rather impressed with her younger son.

  When the vows were complete, the priest made his announcement and then led the couple, the Trentons, and the Torringtons to the vestry to enter the marriage lines. Copies were then presented to Angelica and Anne, who promptly rolled them up and carried them with their flowers.

  “When will they leave for Italy?” Adele asked when she and Milton were in the town coach and heading back to Worthington House for the wedding breakfast.

  “A few days. Ben managed to get tickets on a sailing ship bound for Rome. They and their servants will be there in time for Christmas.”

  Adele sighed. “How romantic,” she cooed.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said with a nod. “I have tickets for the same ship.”

  Her eyes widening in surprise, Adele stared at her husband. “Milton!”

  He merely grinned, not bothering to add that George had tickets as well.

  Excerpt

  Read on for an excerpt from Linda Rae Sande’s Book 2 of “The Heirs of the Aristocracy” Series

  The Puzzle of a Bastard

  British Museum, December 1838

  The wooden crate landed with a thud at Gabe Wellingham’s feet, and he winced. “Have a care!” he cried out, incensed at the lack of regard the two barrel-chested delivery men showed as they moved to lift another crate from the back of a dray cart. “These are priceless antiquities.”