Deceived

dowager replied.

'What a pity the duchess's condition prevented them from attending the royal wedding and the coronation this month,' Mistress St. John noted. 'I understand it was all quite magnificent, and that the queen is a lovely young woman.'

'Indeed, Calandra was dreadfully disappointed,' the dowager replied, remembering how her grandson's wife had shrieked and carried on when she learned that she could not travel during her pregnancy. It had been three days before she had stopped crying, and she was still not over her disappointment, nor would she ever be, the dowager thought.

The two women now settled down to a good gossip, for although St. John's mother was at least fifteen years younger than the dowager, they had many interests and friends in common.

'I am going to take Aurora on a tour of the house,' St. John finally said, and his mother waved them off.

They left the drawing room hand in hand, and he showed her the dining room, the back salon the family generally used, the ballroom, and the original old hall, which was beamed and hung with banners. Leading her upstairs, he took her through a door, and they were in a large bedchamber. 'And this is my room,' he said softly, drawing her into his arms and kissing her slowly.

For a moment she enjoyed the kiss, and then she drew just slightly away from him. 'I don't think we should be here, St. John, nor should we be engaged in such activity.'

'When did you decide to marry me?' he asked her, his fingers unlacing her gown as he bent to kiss her again.

'When your mother asked me,' she admitted, and slipped her arms about his neck, kissing him back. 'Where is my betrothal ring?'

He pushed her down onto his bed, and straddling her gently, pulled her bodice down to reveal her soft, alabaster bosom. His hands reached out to fondle the dainty mounds. Bending his head, he began to lick first the pink nipples, and then each of her round breasts in its turn. She sighed, encouraging him in his pursuit, and he began to suck on her nipples, drawing upon them strongly, biting them tenderly until she was writhing beneath him and almost whimpering.

Finally he lifted his head from the sweetness of her flesh and asked her, 'Do you want to know more, my darling Aurora?'

'Yes,' she murmured. She was already afire with his passionate attentions to her sensitive breasts. They felt hard and ready to burst.

'This will be so much easier when you do not have so many garments on,' he told her. He pushed her skirts up. Beneath the green silk she had on at least half a dozen petticoats, but, thankfully, no panniers. He thrust the material aside enough to slip his hand beneath, and began stroking her leg, which was encased in a silk stocking and tightly gartered. He was going to undress her himself on their wedding night, slowly, deliberately, and purposively, kissing each bit of flesh as he exposed it until his very touch would set her afire. His fingers moved above her garter, touching the very soft skin of her inner thigh. He caressed it lightly, teasingly.

Aurora's head was spinning. His big hands were so gentle, his mouth so deliciously wicked when he used it on her breasts. His hand moved farther upward, brushing softly against her little nest of curls. This, she sensed, was dangerous territory. She stirred restlessly as a single long finger slipped between her nether lips to find her little pleasure button. He began rubbing it provocatively.

'Sr. John!' she squeaked.

'Don't you like it?' he whispered hotly in her ear, his finger continuing its wonderful and erotic friction.

'Yes!' Oh, God, yes! This was even better than when she did it to herself. She squirmed with excitement, gasping as she reached the crest of delight. 'Ummmmm! Oh, St. John, that is simply too delicious. Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!' She shuddered.

Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his tongue playing with her. Then he murmured, 'One day I shall use my tongue on you there, my darling, but you are not yet ready for such games.' The finger slipped away from her pleasure button and began to penetrate her. She gasped with surprise, but he reassured her. 'It's all right, my precious. This is where I shall enter your body when we are married.' His finger gently inserted itself, moving forward in her hot passage very slowly, very carefully. When he reached her maidenhead, he ceased his action, gently ascertaining that her virginity was well lodged.

She whimpered.

'Hush, darling,' he soothed her, and began to move the finger back and forth within her. 'There, isn't that nice, Aurora? No, sweeting, do not move else I hurt you without meaning to do so.' The finger moved swiftly, and within moments she was crying out with her pleasure, and when the shudders had subsided, he withdrew his finger, putting it into his mouth to suck upon it. His member was like iron, and tightly lodged within his pantaloons. Loosening it, he lay next to her and put her hand upon it. 'If you soothe me very gently, my darling, it would help.'

'But yesterday you said it would hurt you,' she murmured, her fingers closing about him. He was warm and throbbing with life.

'That, my darling, was yesterday in Hawkesworth's garden. This is now in my house. Gently, Aurora,' he instructed as she loosed him and began to stroke his member. 'Ahhh, yes, that is the way.' He reached into his coat and drew forth a silk handkerchief. 'Take your hand away now, Aurora. My love juices are about to flow forth.'

She couldn't help it. Turning her head, she watched as his member erupted forth a creamy stream of thick liquid. He stemmed the How in the handkerchief, shivering with pleasure until finally it was done. Mopping the residue, he lay the sodden silk aside, then, turning, kissed her mouth even as she reached out to caress the limp flesh.

He smiled at her. 'You weren't afraid, were you?'

'No,' she told him, and then, 'we have been very wicked, haven't we, St. John? Very wicked indeed.'

'I haven't half begun to be wicked with you, Aurora,' he told her with a chuckle, and kissed her again.

She murmured her approval, but suddenly the clock on the mantel began to strike. Aurora stiffened and pulled away from St. John. 'Your mama and the dowager will surely begin to wonder where we have gotten to!' Pushing her skirts down, she sat up. 'Oh, do lace me up, St. John!'

Chuckling, he complied, afterward fastening his own buttons.

Aurora looked into the mirror over the fireplace. 'Oh, Lord, my hair is a disaster, and I shall never be able to fix it!'

Laughing now, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and drew forth a small hairbrush with which he repaired her coif. When he had finished, he said, 'There. No one will ever suspect that we were toying with your virtue, my darling.' He drew her up. 'Come, and I shall take you to the strongroom, where I have the St. John betrothal ring. It is a magnificent yellow diamond, oval in shape, and will become you, my darling. Let everyone think what they may. You will be my wife in the spring, Aurora.'

'I don't suppose I should ask how you became so proficient in restoring a lady's coiffure,' Aurora said tartly.

'No,' he agreed, 'you should not.' Then, taking her by the hand, they left the bedroom.

When they returned to the drawing room, both Mistress St. John and the dowager were both extravagant in their praise of Aurora's new ring. And for the first time she felt a little bit of excitement.

'Is this love?' she softly asked St. John.

'I don't know,' he said. 'I've never been in love before, but I do know I