Yes, My Lord

After a certain point he paused to look up at her with hooded eyes. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

She placed her hands on his head, running her fingers through his hair, answering simply, "Yes," as his face dropped out of sight. And once more— would the wonders never cease?— his delicious mouth fell upon her. But this time he was not so delicate. This time he was insistent, sinking his tongue into the shallow reaches of her uncharted entrance. Then slowly withdrawing, only to tease her tender bud with the flick of his tongue and start all over again. His hands roamed the length of her thighs and the curve of her bottom.

"My god, Ainsley! I need to thank whoever taught you these tricks!"

"No, you do not," he said darkly, his face hidden between her shaking— nearly convulsing— legs. They both knew where he might have learned the art of lovemaking (from the same place every other young English nobleman did). But Violet did not care if he had been with other women. Experienced women.

The past was the past.

She whimpered, hoping that he might continue his ministrations.

"You are the only one," he whispered obscurely. Violet did not dare ask for further explanation on the matter. Was it even possible that she was his first? Could a man learn such things from idle, gentlemanly chatter and textbooks? Violet did not think so. And there was the implicating, undeniable fact that women threw themselves at him.

Not to mention, he was so, so good at this...

He raised his eyebrows at the noises she made, pressing his palm against her warm mound, his fingers moving deftly over her downy thatch. "You are wet with need, dearest."

"Yes." She bit her lip. "You have taught me something tonight, I suppose. I am not sure how I will live with this temptation."

"Marry me and you will not have to suffer another lonely night."

"I thought we were going to discuss this later," she sighed, propping herself on her elbows; watching as Ainsley fought valiantly to raise his eyes from her bare breasts resting heavily above her taut stomach. "I like being a governess, you know."

"So you can remain one." He pitched forward, nestling into the crescent arch of her stomach. "I would not ask you to give up what brings you joy. Please do not ask me to do so."

"Your father would be furious. He might denounce you. Do you intend to spend your entire life, every day, teaching? It is not as easy as the life of a gentleman."

"How many ways must I explain it, Violet?" He turned his sparkling green eyes up to her. "I do not desire the pompous, aggrandized life of a gentleman. I have spent these two years preparing myself for a career, if it should come to that. If my father denounces me and would throw me to the wolves, I will gladly run here." He pressed his fingers to her heart. "You are the only thing that ever made me feel complete."

Violet wrapped her arms around his back, drawing him in. "You must at least think it over. You have have been gone for so long! How can you be sure it is me you desire, and not the charming idea of a simpler life? Sometimes men fixate on these things, 'til the fantasy becomes greater than the reality. I do not want to see you upended."

Sitting back on his heels, Ainsley dug a hand into the front pocket of his breeches. Violet's eyes began to widen as realization dawned.

"I am very serious," he whispered. A slender, velvet box lay flat on his palm, shining like fur in the fire's golden glow. "I had two years to think on it, Violet. Please say you will be my wife, here and now. I shall give you all of myself, from this night forward, if you will only have me."

"I— I don't know what to say..."

"Say yes, my love."

"I cannot, in good conscience."

Ainsley opened the box. A winking silver band shone inside, lying on a plush bed of purple flower petals. "I had it made especially for you." There it was, a small bead of amethyst at the center of the band. "See how I can never give it to another?"

She nodded, brushing tears from her round cheeks. "Well, this is shocking!"

"In a good way? Like Christmas morning?"

"You are throwing your life away for me. How is that good, Ainsley?" She nearly choked on the words.

"I am hardly throwing my life away! In my esteemed opinion, I'm trading up. You are a beacon of hope for my dark heart, as you always have been. Please do not say you will throw away our love at the behest of broken principles." He cradled her cheek in his hand. "All my life, it has only been you. The first time you stepped foot in Herringdown, I had to excuse myself, just to reconcile myself to the angelic sight of you. I think I fell in love immediately, and only recently have become a man capable of pleasing you."

"You do please me," she said, smirking wickedly, her eyes drifting to his glistening lips. "Honestly, I did not want you to stop."

"If you will be mine, we will finish what we started. Right here." He laid a hand on her quilted counterpane.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Violet closed her eyes. "And will you leave if I say no?"

"Do not make me answer that." His eyes were like obsidian in the shadows, his silhouette limned in firelight. "You have no idea how badly I want you. I confess, it would take every ounce of willpower I have, just to walk away."

"Then do not walk away," Violet rasped, hooking her hands around the waistband of his breeches. "Show me that you love me as you say."

"That's what I'm doing, my dear. Say you will marry me. I have no desire to make you my mistress."

How could she argue with such rational logic? It gave her no pleasure to imagine Ainsley losing his title, his claim to Herringdown, and most of all, his parents' respect. In her own way, Violet cared about the Sheltons, too. The baron was brooding and somewhat pig-headed, but he was not a bad man. The baroness, Lady Shelton, had her merits also, one of them being that she had not thrown Violet on the street with rumors of untoward behavior falling on her head. Her heart palpitated as she thought of the twins: precocious, miniature replicas of their beloved older brother. She did not wish scandal on any of them. But she loved Ainsley, and if he would be miserable without her, then what choice did she have?

She raised a poised hand toward his ring. "OK," she smiled sheepishly. "Yes. I will marry you."

If she had expected her intended to become wild and boisterous with her acceptance, she might have been surprised that he silently held her hand and slid the engagement ring onto her fourth finger. But Violet knew her Ainsley better than that. She saw that his eyes were glossy; she watched him lick his lips several times over; she felt his heart racing under her palm.

"You will?" he whispered, awestruck.

She slid her hands around the waistband of his breeches, pulling him flush against her, until she felt the hard length of him threatening his buckskin. "Yes, my lord," she whispered coyly into his ear. "That is what I said. Now... will you?"

"Gladly," he growled, tossing his tall boots across her threadbare paisley rug. When he reached for the buttons of his breeches, she swatted his hand away.

"Allow me," she said, taking her time with each gold-plated button. Lord Shelton's buttons probably cost more than her whole wardrobe, she thought absently, as her hands worked to disrobe him.

When the last button was undone, she carefully slid her fingertips along his defined abdomen, revealing one delicious centimeter of skin at a time. Ainsley watched her intently, his eyes shuttering as her nails brushed the pale curls that framed his restrained arousal.

The feel of him was fascinating, but the sight of him, springing free of clothing as she pushed his breeches down to his bended knees, was close to overwhelming. She reached out tentatively, closing her hand around his pulsing flesh as he groaned and thrust involuntarily upward. He was bigger than she expected, and she wondered how badly it would hurt when he entered her.

"I will be gentle," he said. Maybe her eyes had given away her thoughts.

"Do you like... to be kissed here?"

He took a deep breath. "I do not know if I have the strength to withstand it," he admitted, his forehead already starting to glisten.

"I will be gentle," she echoed, a devilish glint in her eye.

Ainsley moaned with preemptive pleasure. She kissed his fluttering lips, then bent forward and eased her mouth over the solid stretch of him, her jaw threatening to unhinge to accommodate his girth. With every careful swirl of her lips and tongue, she could feel his veins pulsing with the need for release. He had been right, he could not endure much more of this.

She released him in a slow glide, planting one final kiss on his tip before sitting back on the bed, grinning over her elbows.

"It is you, my darling, who must tell where you learned your tricks," he said, crawling over her lap, his lean thighs straddling her own. "You are absolutely bewitching. I am honored to call you my betrothed. And sorry it took me so long to gather my wits and return to you."

"I cannot believe you love me at all," she giggled, "when I am acting so naughty."

"Naughty is grand," he said, teasing a loose finger over her sex, curving it gently around her warm folds to the sound of her purring moan. With his thumb he massaged her sensitive node until she was panting and arching against his hand. "You see, now you are ready for me. Shall I unwrap my present?"

Violet cried out, louder than she might have liked. But damn it all to hell, she was in total bliss! "I think I'm—!"

"Not yet, my love," he whispered, pressing his wet finger to her mouth.

Down below he moved his hips, positioning himself at her entrance. Poised to claim what she had promised him, he smiled exultantly and pushed his hair out of his eyes. The warm nectar between her legs already coated his firm tip in preparation. One sweet breath at a time, he admitted his fullness deep into her private, sensual core.

There were twinges of pain— his size stretching her to the limit— but the discomfort was less than she had anticipated. And with her careful man at the helm, she could rally against it. In fact, it was something of an arousal itself; the knowledge that her beloved was guiding her into this honey sweet realm of womanhood.

"Lord in heaven..." she mewled, bending to his will, intoxicated with the feeling of his impressive length penetrating every untouched inch of her virgin well.

Soon the pain was gone, and pleasure abounded. Violet forgot herself, succumbing to this new, erotic paradise. Her fingers tore at her long hair and the counterpane underneath her, as if a better grip might bring her closer to some nebulous height of ecstasy.

"Violet, you are heaven on earth," Ainsley sighed, unsheathing himself only to sink into her again and again with agonizing restraint. Over and over he stimulated her to the edge of the glorious, vast unknown, only to draw back when she was ready to dive in.

She rotated her hips, squeezing her legs around his waist. Hair fell into his face, shadowing his eyes.

Then finally—Finally— he set her free, driving unrestrained into her, his muscles taut and bulging. It was enough to send them both over the edge. Violet bucked underneath him like a rabid animal, her head tossing side to side. His eyes drifted to her breasts bobbing like buoys in a storm. But as he bent in half to invite one of her perfect, pink nipples into his mouth, heat exploded around the place he embedded her. She sighed, so close to climax— her body expanding, unwrapping, pulling him even closer. She shivered and dissolved around him, a symphony of colors flashing before her eyes.

"Ainsley! Oh, my lord, Ainsley!" Her inner walls throbbed and held him tightly as his seed pulsed into her.

Their bodies rocked and shuddered. Ainsley clenched his teeth and moaned almost inaudibly.

"My love," he whispered, stretching out beside her when they could breath again. His gaze was heavy. "How could you ever doubt that you are the only woman for me?"

She draped her arm over his chest, drinking in the heady scents enveloping them. "I'm not sure," she said with a smile, rubbing his chest, and lower, teasing the short hair above his sex with her fingertips. "It's so clear to me now."

"Ready for me again are you?" He raised an eyebrow. "We will have a little Shelton running around in no time, if you remain this emboldened in the bedroom."

She glanced down at her flat stomach, then cuddled up to the remarkable man she had somehow, someway, gotten to fall so hopelessly in love with her that he could not let her go.

Thank God for the gift of Ainsley Shelton!

"Who knows," she said. "There may already be one on the way..." She kissed him sweetly. "Merry Christmas, my lord."