The Three Colonels (7 page)

“Beautiful—you are beautiful. Come, my dear.” Sir John held out his hand.

Caroline could not believe she could blush further, but no one had ever called her beautiful before. She slowly walked towards him. To her it was a dream, and she felt somehow detached as if she were watching someone else.

Sir John slowly caressed her shoulders and arms while murmuring low tones in her ear and kissing her hair. Finally, he sensed that her reserve had been broken, and she began to relax, to respond. His lips moved to hers while his arms encircled her.

Caroline melted into the kiss, her body coming in firm contact with his. Not for the first time did she feel the evidence of his desire, but she did not flinch. She felt a need that she knew only his body could fulfill.

Sir John's hands slid downward to her hips. Caroline's eyes opened first in surprise before closing in pleasure. Her arms rose first to his shoulders, then around his neck in response. Sir John's lips moved to her chin, her cheek, her neck. Caroline felt the heat within her grow, and moaned in regret when Sir John suddenly lifted his head and cupped her face. For a moment, blue eyes bore into green. Caroline drew breath and relaxed.

Sir John stepped back and removed his robe. At first, he seemed to Caroline's eyes a bit silly in his nightshirt, and the thought acted to relax her further. The top buttons of the garment were undone, and his broad chest peeked from underneath. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. Sir John moved closer again, this time caressing her as his hands drifted down to the small points of her breasts and his fingertips made circles around them.

Caroline knew she was slim and, therefore, smaller than many ladies of her acquaintance. She had worried that Sir John might be disappointed in her. But his touch vanquished that concern. The feelings he stirred within her were all delightful, and Caroline could not help but give out a small cry of pleasure.

“Yes, Caro, let me know what pleases you,” he murmured. Sir John smiled as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs feeling her nipples through the material.

“What… what did you call me?” she asked, trembling.

“Caro. You are my Caro—my delight—and I shall call you thus when we are together… thus.”

Caroline slipped her arms around her husband again. Covering his face with kisses, she barely noticed that Sir John had dropped his hands again, this time to raise the hem of the negligee. He pulled it up, and Caroline lifted her arms to allow her husband to raise it over her head. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the flimsy nothing towards a corner. Sir John reached and lifted his bride in his arms and carried her to their marriage bed.

He placed her on the sheets. “To pleasure thee is my delight.” He stood up and slowly removed his own garment. Caroline could not tear her eyes away from his manhood.

“Do not fear, my dear. 'Tis me; 'tis natural. It was made for thee.”

“For me? That will fit… inside of me?”

“Oh, yes, my dear, and it will give you great pleasure.” He took his place lying next to Caroline and began to kiss her, stroking her breasts again.

Currents of delight coursed through her, and she murmured repeatedly against his lips, “Yes… oh, yes.”

Sir John's hand reached down to the hot, dewy core of her. Slowly, carefully, he played her as skillfully as one might play the keys of a pianoforte, but the music was Caroline's cries of pleasure as she moved against his hand.

After a time, he placed his body over hers, and her arms reached up to embrace him. “Are you ready for me, Caro?” he asked. To her nod, he added, “There will be but a bit of pain. Forgive your Johnny.” She nodded again.

Slowly he eased his manhood into her. Caroline gasped as she felt for the first time the sensation of being filled. Sir John tried with all his will to be as gentle as he could, but the exquisite pleasure nearly undid him. Caroline cried out as he became fully embedded in her, but soon he felt her begin to relax.

“Caro, are you well?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, the pain already fading. “Oh, yes. Please do not stop.” Her hands reached down to his buttocks. She grasped him and pulled him ever deeper inside.

Instinctively, he began his strokes—first slowly and then with increasing speed. Caroline's hips rose to meet each thrust. He whispered in her ear, “Caro… my Caro. I am yours… your Johnny… forever.”

The fierce groan she made in reply was too much for Sir John. With a cry, he spilled his seed deep within his virgin bride.

Caroline could feel his release flooding her core, the heat radiating into her. She was overwhelmed by the sensation of being one with her husband, of completeness. She seized Sir John as tightly as she could as he continued to convulse. Finally, he collapsed upon her breast, both of them slick from the exertion of their lovemaking.

When she could catch her breath, Caroline asked, “John, are you well?”

“Ah, yes, my dear—never better. But,” he stroked her face, “are you?”

He saw her eyes fill with tears of joy. “I… I never dreamed. Oh John—”

“Johnny,” he interrupted her. “As you are Caro, I am Johnny, when we are thus.”

She held him close again. “Johnny… thank you,” she said with a kiss.

***

The night was beyond his expectations. Caroline soon conquered any apprehension or awkwardness that had existed, and when he whispered the private name he had chosen for her—Caro—into her ear, her reaction almost overcame him. Afterwards, the look of wonder and gratification on Caroline's lovely face was the greatest reward Buford could imagine.

And now as Caroline slept, her body wrapped around him, Buford was filled with wonder and gratification as well. Another man might have basked in self-satisfaction, but Caroline's husband knew his own talents. The greatest of musicians can make an inferior instrument sound only so well and no more. He knew he was not the great lover of the world; he had not
that
much practice. To his increasing delight, Buford was coming to the realization that he had been far more fortunate in his choice of wife than he could imagine. There was something there, something hidden, that he had been able to unlock and set free. There was nowhere on earth he would rather be than next to Caroline. He could not help himself; he had to experience it again.

He leaned over and began to caress her face lightly. “Caro… my beautiful Caro.”

Lovely green eyes opened and looked at him. “Hmm…” She smiled. He began to kiss her lightly on the forehead and then the eyelids. “Is it morning already?”

“No, my dear.” Buford moved down to her neck.

“Oh, John,” moaned Caroline.

“My name, Caro—say my name. The one I taught you for moments like this.” His lips traveled further south.

“Johnny!” she purred.

Sometime later, as his labors finally exhausted him enough to join his sleeping wife, Buford's thoughts were those of caution.

I
must
take
care. It would not do to commit that most fatal of sins against the
ton
—falling in love with my own wife.

The morning sun was full upon Caroline's face as she awoke. At first, she was confused by the unfamiliar room until she remembered she was a married woman. She stretched like a cat, feeling aches from places before unknown to her, and recalled the events of the evening.

I
am
Lady
Buford… Caro… Oh Lord, what a night! I had nothing to fear. John was so kind, but how wantonly I acted!

Caroline began to rise from the bed when she noticed she was not alone. Her husband was still in bed with her—not sleeping, but sitting up watching her with an amused eye—and obviously without a stitch of clothing on. That realization brought to Caroline's attention that she was as naked as he was. She scrambled back under the covers, too embarrassed to speak.

“Good morning, Lady Buford,” Sir John greeted her.

“Good morning, sir,” Caroline answered, too mortified to notice that her husband had used her new title. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

Sir John grinned. Caroline was reacting in just the manner he had foreseen. “I beg your pardon. I thought you were my wife.”

Caroline colored. “Of course, I am your wife, but why are you still here? Do you not have your own bed?”

“Yes, and I am in it.”

Caroline frowned. “Sir, it is my understanding that these are my rooms. At least that was what I was led to believe yesterday.”

“Ah, I see. I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, my dear. How unforgivable of me! I forgot to tell you something. I suppose I was preoccupied.” Caroline blushed deeper. “Well, let there be a right understanding between us, madam. These are indeed your rooms. However, there shall be no talk of your bed and my bed—only our bed, Caro.” Sir John's face drew very close.

“Oh! Do you mean to share my bed every night? How extraordinary! But the servants, sir! What shall they make of this?”

“The servants?” Sir John laughed. “Why, they shall think no harm of it. Only that the mistress is so enamored of the master's person that she cannot bear to be separated from him.”

Caroline could not decide whether she was distressed by this observation or not. She began to rise from the bed.

“What are you doing, Caroline?”

She gave him a look. “Perhaps you can sleep the day away, but I have duties to attend—your breakfast, for example.”

“Madam, please.” Sir John placed his hand upon hers. “Your duties can wait for tomorrow. It is my particular wish that you enjoy your first day as Lady Buford.” She paused and then, looking into those eyes, gave in. He smiled at her and then proceeded to get out of bed himself.

“But where are you going?” she asked.

He gave her a smile. “Patience, my dear. I shall return.”

With that, he left the bed. Caroline could not help but look with satisfaction upon her husband as he walked across the room, naked as Adam, before he pulled on his robe and disappeared into his bedroom. A quick word to the servant and he returned, crossing over to her side of the bed.

“Well, sir?” Caroline asked with an arch look. “What shall we do now?”

Sir John grinned, then reached and took her hand. “I am sure there are matters you wish to attend to in private,” Sir John said as he helped his wife out of bed and walked her to her dressing room. “I shall leave you, madam, but will return. Oh, by the way,” he added offhandedly, “the staff is rather short in number; I gave most of them their liberty for the day.” He bowed, kissed her hand, and left the room.

Caroline completed her morning routine by herself, somewhat irked that she would have no maid to help with her toilette. There was nothing for it—she put on her best robe and was able to do something with her hair before her husband returned. Sir John had an expectant look on his face that Caroline could not credit.

“Lovely robe,” was all he said before picking her up. Caroline, crying out, thought his plan was to take her to bed, so she was surprised that they went through the open doorway into his rooms and entered his dressing room.

There she saw a bath freshly drawn, steam rising from the tub and a bucket next to it. Her bewilderment turned to surprise when Sir John put her back on her feet and lovingly removed her robe. Without a word, he gently placed her into the bath.

She gasped as she lay back. The water enveloped her body, her aches soothed by the warmth. It was exactly what Caroline needed, but to her surprise, within a moment, she felt a stream of hot water cascade over her head. Her husband, Colonel Sir John Buford, war hero and Knight of the Bath, was seated on a stool behind her, washing her hair.

Never before had the practice felt so pleasurable. Caroline was temporarily lost in indulgence. At that moment, she would do anything Sir John asked of her.

The only words Sir John spoke to her, though, was a request that she lean forward so that her hair could be rinsed. Once accomplished, he squeezed as much of the excess water from her tresses as he could before he leaned over and kissed her ear.

“A moment, my dear,” he said and was gone. Disappointed with his departure, Caroline lathered the rest of her body, standing up to do her torso.

Task completed, Sir John returned to his dressing room to the spectacle of his tall, slim wife standing in the tub facing away from the door, soaping her body, her buttocks gleaming. His mouth went dry at the sight. Finally, he was able to whisper hoarsely, “Venus rises from the waves.”

Caroline looked over her shoulder at him. He could see a bit of suds had clung to the tips of her nipples.

With a smirk, his wife said, “Do not stand there staring, Sir John. Help me rinse off.”

Snapped out of his trance, he smiled and proceeded to do just that. Caroline reclined in the bath while Sir John reclaimed his stool. He sponged the remaining soap from her body and then held her hand while she relaxed.

Minutes passed before he said, “You will want to get dressed before the water gets cool, I think.”

Caroline grasped his hand firmly, a daring thought coming to her. “Perhaps you can help dry me with a towel.”

Sir John grinned. “Your wish is my command, m'lady.”

Working together, they dried Caroline's body while wetting their lips with kisses. They were able to remain in some control of their passions, however, and it was not long before the pair, dressed only in their robes, returned to Caroline's rooms hand in hand.

By now, little could surprise Mrs. Buford, so it was no shock to see that breakfast had already been laid out for them on the table at the foot of the bed. Caroline noted with interest that the linens on the bed had been changed, but seeing no profit in inquiring about it, let the observation pass without comment.

While eating, Caroline asked, “What did you have in mind for today, sir? You seem to have everything planned. More tea? I assume we will leave this room at some point.”

“Thank you. Why, it had passed my mind that you might wish to do a bit of shopping,” Sir John replied. “Our ship leaves in four days—just long enough to have a dress or two fitted and pick up some other necessaries as well. There are shops nearby. We can be there in a trice.”

There were few things Caroline enjoyed more than shopping. Sir John's suggestion brought a smile to her face, which brightened further when she realized that he meant to go with her.

“That sounds delightful, John! I would like very much to go.”

She paused and then looked at him through her eyelashes. “But the shops are nearby, did you say? I can see no reason for us to hurry…
Johnny
.”

She opened her robe.

There were few things that Caroline enjoyed more than shopping—but she might have found another.