Truth about Leo by Katie MacAlister
Mr. Dalton, who was in the middle of taking a sip from a brandy glass, choked and sputtered out a fine spray of amber liquid.
Leo set his glass on the table. “Princess,” he said in that way that made Dagmar feel itchy and annoyed.
“My lord,” she said in as close an approximation to his drawl as she could.
“I’ve told you that I don’t like being ordered about.”
“And I’ve told you that you need to be in bed. Leo, you are going to do yourself a grievous injury if you don’t get some rest. Just look at you.” She waved vaguely at him. “I’d wager that it’s all swollen and hot and hurting you greatly, and if you would just be sensible and let me attend to it, you’ll feel much better.”
It was Leo’s turn to choke. He did so, hastily taking Dagmar’s arm and escorting her from the room without a look back at their host, who was whooping with amusement. “Dear God, woman, you are determined to make everyone think I am a eunuch.”
“That would be a false assumption,” she told him as they mounted the stairs. “I’ve seen your testicles. You quite plainly have them. They’re too large to miss, in fact, although I will admit I didn’t get a really close look at them. But they were most definitely there, so if anyone should accuse you of being gelded, I will put them to right on the matter.”
“You are kindness personified,” he told her gravely. She shot him a suspicious look, undecided if he was teasing her or just so tired he was speaking in an unguarded manner. “Which room is yours?”
She pointed to the door ahead.
“Since I know you’re bound to ask, yes, I will retire for the evening. I assume my room is somewhere along here?”
“Yes.” Dagmar opened the door to their bedchamber. “It’s right here.”
“But that’s your room.”
“It is.”
“Are you saying it’s mine, as well?”
“I am.”
“Mrs. Hayes put us both in the same room?”
“She did.”
“Together? At the same time?”
Dagmar fought the urge to pinch him. He couldn’t possibly be so stupid as not to understand the simple concept of the two of them sharing a room, could he? Perhaps the fact that he was so tired was making him slow. That or he just really did not care for the room. “Do you know, I tend to indulge only in conversations where I’m encouraged to do more than simply confirm the validity of your repeated statements, but I shall mark this one down to the fact that you are tired. This is the room given over to us. It is a nice room. You will not dislike it intensely, I promise you.”
He stared into the dancing firelight that gilded the furniture in the room, an odd expression crossing his handsome features. “At this moment, I can’t imagine anything more hellish than what lies in there.”
“My sainted mother had a saying about those who make their beds must sleep on them,” Dagmar said, giving him a gentle push to get him going. The poor man was clearly at his last shreds of strength, which meant that, sadly, she’d have to put off asking him about the bedding process until he had a chance to rest. “And in this case, you chose the house that contained your bed, so now I will see to it that you lie on it. The bed, not the house.”
“I could go back to my lodgings…” Leo’s protest was feeble at best, and Dagmar dealt with it swiftly.
“You’ll be much more comfortable here. There is a nice fire burning, which in itself is a hundred percent improvement from your lodgings, and also, I’ve had the maids bring up some water so that I might bathe your wounds. If you were at your cold, dusty rooms, I wouldn’t be able to take your clothing off and attend to you.”
He made a gulping sound that worried her for a moment, but since he didn’t fall over in a fit or begin to froth at the mouth, she assumed it was just a minor bubble of wind coming up and proceeded to disrobe him as efficiently as possible.
She had removed everything but his stockings and trousers when he stopped her, one hand on hers as she reached for the buttons of his falls.
“Dagmar, I feel obligated by breeding and a concern for your welfare to warn you that if you continue on the path of stripping me as naked as the day I was born, I will in all likelihood consummate this marriage in a very real and tangible way that would totally eliminate any chances you have of an annulment.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking once or twice at the sudden rush of warmth to her face and groin. “Good.”
“Oh, good?” he repeated, shaking his head, his fingers still keeping her hand from completing that task that she now very much wished to achieve. “Oh, good, Dagmar? Good? Shy and innocent maidens such as you do not embrace the physical acts of marriage. They are repulsed by the physicality of it. They skitter away from the sounds and scents and liquid effusions generated by it. They faint at the thought of the deflowering. They do not greet thoughts of being bedded with cries of joy and overall enthusiasm.”
Dagmar pried his hand from hers and unbuttoned his trousers. His penis immediately sprang forward, taking her by surprise. She frowned at its demand for attention for a moment, before affixing Leo with a look that Julia once referred to as “steely.” “When have I ever given you the idea that I am like other shy, innocent maidens?”
He thought about that for a moment, then slid his trousers down and tossed them onto a chair. “Fair enough. But I want to make absolutely certain that you understand what will follow if you remain in this bedchamber with me. Specifically if you approach the bed within a five-yard radius. Or remove your clothing. Either action constitutes acceptance of the fact that I will bed you as you’ve never been bedded before.”
“I’m a virgin,” she couldn’t help but point out, glancing down at his man parts. They were certainly much more robust than they had been back on the ship. That boded well for how quickly his wounds were healing. She felt a moment of pride that her role in his care had restored his parts to such a healthy state. “I believe I’ve mentioned that. Therefore, I haven’t been bedded before.”
He took a deep breath. Dagmar fully approved of what that action did to his chest. She liked watching the muscles of it move as he breathed, and even with the angry red line curving down from under the bandage on his shoulder, she couldn’t help but admire the breadth of it. How on earth had anyone ever gotten the better of him in order to wound him? He really was magnificent, from the top of his dark head down to the strength of his arms—albeit one now a bit less impressive than the other—across his chest, down to his stomach, which bore an interesting little trail of dark hair that led down to his masculine bits, and farther on, to his thighs and calves. She’d always been one to admire a man’s legs, and she couldn’t help but feel a little smug that her man would cut a dashing figure in the satin breeches and stockings of court dress, should the opportunity ever arrive of him wearing them.
She was indulging in a little fantasy of him parading around in nothing but very tight fitting satin breeches when her attention was forced back to the present by the sheer sight of him turning around.
“Oh!” she said and then, not having the ability to come up with any other word, said it again. “Oh.”
“Oh?” He looked over his shoulder as he peeled back the bed linens. He frowned. “What are you staring at? My tattoo? You’ve seen it already.”
Her gaze, her attention, her every waking thought was wholly and completely focused on the glory that was his behind. “Oh,” she said a third time, and unable to bring actual words out, she stepped forward and put both hands on him.
His flesh was warm and inviting and sleek. “Like one of Frederick’s horses,” she finally managed to say, her entire body tingling as her fingers swept across the heavy muscles of his buttocks, along the dips on either side, and over the ridged muscles that curved forward into his belly.
“My ass?” He tried to look over his shoulder at it. “If it’s hairy, I apol
“You are an odd man,” Dagmar said, her fingers still caressing this new object of joy and delight. “But one with a truly wonderful behind. I would like to have a bust made of it and place it where I could touch it every day. Do you mind if I cup you just here?”
He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a gasp. “Not at all, assuming that you have no objections when I reciprocate.”
“I just…I had no idea…the groom’s behind in his tight breeches was nice, but not like this…” Dagmar continued to fondle him, smooshing the sides together, stroking the heavy curves, and in general, just having a splendid time. “Do you have some tight breeches, Leo? Preferably satin?”
“Right,” he said, turning around and taking her hands when she gave a little click of disappointment. “I’ve been as patient as I can be, because I understand it is the way of shy, innocent maidens to be surprised by the male body, but you go too far when you begin to knead my ass cheeks. There is only so much a man can bear, Dagmar, and you have pushed me past that point. Beyond which, it’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“I get to strip you and stare at you and fondle you while touching you with fingers that are apparently made of fire. Turn.”
She looked at her hands as he spun her around, his fingers working steadily down the line of hooks on her gown. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not in the way you mean. Arms up.”
Obediently, she lifted her arms, a bit taken by surprise when he whisked her gown over her head without waiting to finish unhooking it.
“This is quite a treat, having someone help me with the hooks. I haven’t had a maid since Dearest Papa died. Julia offered, but it doesn’t feel right to ask her to do something like help me dress. No, the laces are in the front.” He turned her, quickly dealing with her stays and tossing them onto the same chair as her gown and his trousers. She stood before him in nothing but her shift. He knelt, and she felt his warm fingers just above her knees, tugging off the garters that held her stockings up. She had to keep from grabbing at his shoulder when he slid off both stockings and shoes, so pleasurable was the touch of his hands on her legs.
Those very same hidden parts of her that had been so aware of him before were even more so now, and she entertained thoughts of just what it would be like to have his hands on them, rather than hers. She was mentally composing a request for him to touch her lady parts when he stood up, taking her shift with him until she stood stark naked.
“Now,” he said, a wicked smile curving his lips as his gaze locked onto her breasts. “I have my revenge.”
“That doesn’t sound right. I thought there was going to be touching, not revenging. Why aren’t you going to touch me in pleasurable places like my knees and my breasts and my lady secret? I think there should be touching, Leo. Lots and lots of touching.”
Leo laughed when she punched him in his good shoulder, shaking his head as he did so. “Just when I think I know what you’re going to say, you surprise me. Rest assured, my well-endowed little squab, there will be much touching. So much touching, your head will spin. But first, we will start with the kissing.”
Well, that was all right. She enjoyed kissing him, except…she stopped him when he put his good arm around her, pulling her up to his naked and, she couldn’t help but notice, hot and extremely hard body. “I should check your wound first. It might need bathing.”
“We will both need bathing by the time we’re done, darling. And stop wiggling against me like that or it’ll be all over before I get to do all the touching you demand, and then your lady secret will go unattended.”
She ceased struggling to remove herself from his arms so she could peek under the bandage, weighing her need to make sure he wasn’t hurting himself further with the desire to have him attend to her private parts. She had no idea what form the attending would take, but she was willing to bet it would be good.
“Very well, but if you hurt yourself, I will have many harsh things to say to you. Oh! Do that again!”
He did. His breath was warm on her breast as he bent and nuzzled each breast before taking each (suddenly demanding) nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. She thought of pointing out that it wasn’t technically kissing, decided it didn’t matter in the least, and dug the fingers of one hand into his good shoulder while wallowing in the sensation.
“I think this would be easier to do on the bed,” he said a few minutes later. “But first…”
He reached around her with both hands and cupped her behind, giving both cheeks a squeeze. She giggled. “It’s not nearly as nice as yours.”
“I think it’s much nicer.”
“I’m serious about the bust of yours. Do you know of any competent sculptors?”
He bent as if he was going to lift her in his arms, made a noise of irritation, and wrapped his good arm around her waist, guiding her to the bed, instead. “That, darling, is another discussion that is best left for another time. Into bed you get.”
“This is very exciting,” she said, crawling into the tall bed and watching with admiration as he lit all of the candles and lamps in the room. “I’ve wondered what exactly happens, but there was no informative pornography in Mr. Dalton’s library, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me just what steps are needed.”
“What do you know about pornography?” he asked, looking dumbfounded.
“Not a lot, because what I found in Frederick’s study was couched in terms that didn’t make much sense, not to mention the fact that there seemed to be a pornography language that I was not privy to.”
He pursed his lips. “If I asked nicely, would you forget what you’ve read and trust me to show you how things are done?”
“If you like. But you’ll have to tell it to me without the pornography language.”
He did tell her then, in descriptions so clear that she stared at him in disbelief.
“No,” she said, her gaze on his penis. It was looking much more than robust, well into the exuberant state. “I’m afraid you’ve been misled.”
“I assure you that I haven’t.” The bed sagged slightly as he climbed in beside her.
“Leo, I am quite conversant with my body. I knew that the male part must come near the lady part, but to actually venture inside? No.” She shook her head. “There’s simply no room in there.”
“Tell me, how do you think babies are birthed?” He was reclined next to her, not making any sort of move to begin all the promised touching, and Dagmar was a bit unhappy about that state of things.
She thought about his question. She’d seen pregnant woman, of course, but it never seemed to be quite nice to ask them how the baby was removed from their bodies. “Mama always said it had something to do with the navel, and that’s why I shouldn’t put things in it.”
“Your navel or your…lady parts?”
She thinned her lips. “Lady parts are not a purse, Leo. We do not store things in there. For one, as I’ve just mentioned, there’s no room. Fluids come out, yes, but that is the curse of all women, and never have I heard of anyone storing things in theirs.”
Leo opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, then opened it again. “I think we’ll just let that go as well. You’re just going to have to trust me that I know what I’m doing, and other than the sundering of your maidenhead—you do know about that, yes?”
She stared at him.
He sighed again. “Let me explain about that too.”
It was a very eye-opening ten minutes while Leo gave
“Very well,” she said at the conclusion, lying on her back and spreading her arms. “I will take you at your word that it will work. You may commence sundering me.”
He ran a finger down her cheek, to her neck, and then down to her breast, where his hand cupped her. “In good time, my darling, in good time. First, there are other pleasures to explore.”
“Touching?” she asked hopefully.
“Much touching. This, for instance.” He took her breast in his mouth again while trailing his fingers down her belly until they danced amongst the oft-mentioned lady parts. She squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensation and aware of a deep burn that started in her belly and seemed to spread out to her limbs. “And this.”
His breath was hot on her skin as he kissed a path down her belly, swirling his tongue in intricate patterns that moved, inevitably, lower. She was wholly enjoying the experience until she felt his warmth approaching those parts that were still awaiting his fingers.
“Leo?” She sat up, looking down at him. He was propped up on his good arm, stark naked, the dark brown of his hair lying in stark contrast to the pale flesh of her stomach.
“Yes?”
“I believe you’re doing it wrong.”
He looked down at her pubic bone then back up to her. “I don’t think I am. You are just too gentle and innocent to know what it is that I’m doing. You must have faith that I know the way around these things.”
“I’m gentle and innocent, but not an ignoramus, and you are doing it incorrectly.”
A little frown marred his brow. “You do not know the ways of physical pleasure—”
“Who on earth told you that? I know all about the special manner one can touch one’s personal and secret lady parts, and thus, I am the perfect person to inform you that you, not possessing said parts, are going about it completely wrong. There must be touching, Leo. Lots of touching.”