by Emma Wildes
legs, she throbbed. She could feel she was wet—and it had nothing to do with her bath.
“So soft,” Colton said in a hoarse voice, fondling and gently kneading.
Don’t wait. How wanton would it be to ask him to take her as fast and furiously as he had in the
carriage and the other night after she practiced the advice in chapter two?
For a man as conservative as her husband, it would probably seem wanton, she decided in a haze
of need. Brianna bit her lip as his hands continued to roam, but she subtly shifted position, lifting
her hips to urge him without words, her heart pounding.
Colton apparently understood, for he used his knees to part her legs and took her mouth in a
searing kiss just as he took her body. The long, hard length of his cock sank into her passage and
wrung a low cry of pleasure from deep in her throat.
Though she was afraid they had a long way to go in getting to know each other in day-to-day life,
Brianna thought as he began to move in long, sure strokes that shot tingles of blissful sensation
through every nerve ending, here they were achieving accord. Colton’s face was dark with
passion, his azure eyes glittering in the afternoon light as he quickened the pace to the sharpening
bite of her nails on his shoulders.
Her eyes drifted shut, his scent surrounding her, crisp and clean and male, the power of his body
an aphrodisiac, the upward spiral to sexual fulfillment carrying her helplessly to a dizzying,
rapturous height before she fell gladly into paradise. Brianna cried out as she climaxed, a short,
sharp noise she barely registered, and Colton made a low sound in answer, his tall body going
rigid. The pulse of his ejaculation was unmistakable as he surged deep into her trembling body
one last time and flooded her with his release.
In the lethargic wash of the aftermath, Brianna didn’t protest when he rolled to the side, taking
both their entwined bodies. Nestled next to him, she felt the heave of his hard chest with a sense
of pure satisfaction.
“I think I’ve decided bathing oneself is overrated,” she murmured teasingly once she could
summon the strength to speak. “I might require your assistance from now on.”
“I am your servant always, madam.” Colton touched her bare hip, just a brush of his fingers and
his voice was light, but his expression hard to read. He gave a small sigh. “Though I admit what
just happened was not at all my intention when I came up here to speak with you.”
Clasped naked in his arms, she recognized her advantage and she pressed it. “Oh yes, the
invitation. You said you didn’t mind.”
“No,” he corrected, a hint of the austere duke creeping back into his voice. “I said I wasn’t angry.
There is a distinct difference. Mills seems to think you are doing this for my birthday.”
She hadn’t anticipated he would leap for joy, but the thought of tearing him away from his
endless dutiful concentration on his ducal responsibilities held too much allure for her to resist.
Other than this one aberration—which was heartening—she almost never saw him during the
day. When did he ever take time just to enjoy himself? He went hunting now and then, he’d told
her absently when she’d posed the question at dinner one evening, and had a box at Newmarket
where he occasionally attended the races. To keep fit, he fenced nearly every day and took a
morning ride that was penned into his schedule.
She was unlikely to be invited along for any of those activities, so the house party at least forced
him to spend some time with her other than in a solely sexual way. More than half the time he ate
dinner at his club or they had guests, and when they did go out together, they were also always
surrounded by other people. “I planned it to please you,” she explained, not quite telling the truth.
For a moment Colton said nothing. Then he exhaled, his breath stirring her hair. “I realize you
had the best of intentions, but in the future, I must insist you consult me first.”
The word “insist” was grating. She played her trump card. “Your grandmother is thrilled.”
It wasn’t a lie. The dowager duchess was enthralled by the idea of a celebration and a horde of
guests, not to mention all three of her grandsons visiting at once. Brianna understood that very
rarely happened. Damien worked for the Crown and was abroad more than he was home,
Robert’s notorious interests were legendary and not easily pursued while buried in the
countryside, and Colton was so diligent in his responsibilities he had little balance in his life, in
her opinion.
“Is she?” There was just a slight edge of irritation in her husband’s voice. “Why do I get the
feeling I am being manipulated?”
“Colton,” Brianna said with as much asperity as she could summon, “I hardly think someone
going to a great deal of trouble to honor your birthday is manipulation. I already told you I didn’t
ask your permission because it was supposed to be a surprise. A pleasant one.”
Just wait, her inner voice said. Lady Rothburg had a very outrageous suggestion in the chapter
she had just finished reading, and though Brianna blushed every time she thought about it even if
she was alone, she was willing to try it if it pleased him.
“Surprises have no real place in my schedule, Brianna.”
“It’s our life, unless I am mistaken, so I should also have some say.” She touched his cheek in a
tender gesture that was heartfelt.
And maybe, for the first time, he felt it too, for he seemed nonplussed. Those remarkable azure
eyes stared into hers.
Maybe it was foolish, but she pressed him. “Shouldn’t I?”
No, any man in England might have answered her. But then again, she had married only one.
“I had no idea I had married such a militant female.” He rolled her over abruptly, his much larger
body pressing hers into the mattress. His mouth lowered until he could whisper against her lips.
“I believe you are arguing with me. Am I mistaken, or do you have quite a habit of doing just
that?”
“I wouldn’t call it a habit.” Brianna felt breathless all at once, and needy also, as if they hadn’t
just made love. He was hardening again. She could feel the pressure of the length of his returning
erection along her thigh.
“Hmm, I think I might differ in my opinion.” His embrace tightened and firm lips grazed her
temple. Then he gave an exhale that echoed with resignation. “But I should go. This has been a
very satisfying diversion, but Mills will be wondering what the devil happened to me and I have a
dozen—”
Brianna interrupted him by levering up on her elbows and pressing her mouth against his in a
deliberately provocative kiss. Her arms slipped around his neck and she clung to him as if she
had the power to actually keep him from leaving her bed.
It turned out she did. Despite his self-professed busy schedule, he stayed for another very
satisfying hour before he excused himself.
A coup, she thought with elation as she went to wash again in her now tepid bathwater. He hadn’t
told her that she didn’t have any say in their marriage, and the way he kissed and touched her. . . .
Yes, things were going nicely.
Chapter Six
The concept of a “wife” is instantly unexciting.
Most males are hunters by nature a
nd, at marriage,
the chase is over. Some women prefer the dull role
of dutiful spouse, but I have never been able to understand
why. Who wants a mere husband when
you can have a hot-blooded lover instead? When
the bedroom door closes, polite strictures should be
abandoned. Remember, one does not have to be a
whore to act like one now and then.
From the chapter titled: “A Little Lust Will Take You a Long Way”
The level of wine in the decanter had lowered significantly and their voices had probably risen in
decibel, but this was the most pleasant kind of companionship. Robert lounged back in his chair,
his glass dangling from his fingers, his smile genuine. “It is good to have you back. I’m glad you
came here first.”
Robert and his brother Damien sat comfortably in the room Robert considered his study, without
cravats, their jackets discarded amidst the hodgepodge of bachelor furnishings, a mixture of old-world antiques and some pieces from the orient, the eclectic setting of polished lacquer tables and
old oak bookcases pleasing to the eye—at least to Robert’s. It was no secret he disdained
formality whenever possible.
Damien, a year older, currently first in line for the title of Duke of Rolthven but every bit as
uninterested in the role as Robert was himself, grinned. Of the three of them, Damien was the
quiet one. He had the same coloring and build, but his eyes were dark, not blue. A natural
diplomat, he was well suited to the role he played for the British government. None of Colton’s
assured authority or Robert’s more careless approach to life was evident in his unobtrusive
demeanor. “I assure you it’s nice to be back. I did call at Grosvenor Square, but Colton and his
new duchess were out.”
“They are in rather high demand when it comes to invitations.”
“I’m sure.” Damien settled back, eyeing his glass with appreciation. “At least you were home—
though I am a bit surprised.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I enjoy a night in alone now and again. And I’m damned glad of it
now, since I was here for your arrival. What has it been, over a year since you set foot on English
soil?”
“My Lord Wellington can be a ruthless taskmaster at times.”
Robert cocked a brow. “I’m sure.”
“He wins battles.” The simple sentence and slight shrug of the shoulders seemed to sum up his
brother’s sentiments.
“And hopefully this damned war, with the help of men like you,” Robert commented.
“And you.” Damien sipped from his glass. “Don’t discount your service to the Crown, Robbie.
God knows we’re grateful for your complicated mind.”
Robert did little enough in his own opinion, acting as a consultant from time to time to the War
Office. Though no one seemed to mention it, he did have a First in Mathematics from Cambridge.
All society whispered about was his dissolute private life and the number of women he took to
bed. Although, philosophically speaking, he was indifferent to the narrow view society had of his
existence, he still felt a twinge of irritation over the lack of general interest in his intellect.
Damien, however, hadn’t forgotten Robert’s knack for solving impossible little puzzles in record
time, and several years before had gently nudged Robert into a position wherein he was sent
undecipherable coded French communiqués. The challenge was invigorating, and though Robert
had never felt any desire to be a soldier, at least he could help his country in some way. Once he
broke the codes, the information was sent back to Spain and used on any captured
communications.
“My service,” he murmured, “is nominal enough, but thank you. Tell me about Badajoz. I’ve
heard horror stories about the siege.”
The next hour was spent in discussion of the Peninsular Campaign and Robert opened a second
bottle of claret about halfway through, feeling expansive and relaxed. One of the best things in
his life was his relationship with his two brothers, and it was good to have Damien back in
London, for however short a time.
“To change the subject from war to something more pleasant, I understand there is to be a party
for Colt’s birthday.” Damien idly swirled the ruby liquid in his glass, and his eyes held a
humorous light. “I received an invitation from his new wife when I picked up my personal
correspondence. I admit I was surprised he would agree to such an event, but perhaps marriage is
having a mellowing effect on our older sibling.”
Robert couldn’t help it; a grin touched his mouth when he recalled the several different instances
when Colton had expressed his confusion over Brianna’s behavior. “I don’t think it is going quite
as he anticipated. His bride has an independent spirit every bit as captivating as her beauty. You
know Colton prefers his life be neat and logical; and while Brianna is bright and witty, she isn’t
at all predictable. So picture our sometimes austere brother dealing with a creature who demands
from him spontaneity, and not just that, but also indulgence. This party is an example. From his
grumbles on the subject, I understand she just planned it without asking his permission. She sent
him an invitation and that was the first he learned of it.”
Damien laughed in his quiet way. “Maybe she’s just what he needs. All that respectability could
use a shake now and then.”
Robert thought of the low-cut gown that still garnered comments, even though the scandalous
moment had been a few weeks before and he hadn’t witnessed the event. Since Brianna was his
sister-in-law, most males of his acquaintance had the good sense to not say much in front of him,
but he’d still overheard a few ribald remarks from those who hoped the beautiful Duchess of
Rolthven would appear again in public in a similar mode of dress. “She’s doing her best.”
“I missed the wedding.” Damien sounded truly contrite. “The war does not wait on any of us.
Tell me about her. I admit I’m curious.”
“Imagine golden hair, dewy skin, and a body Venus would envy.” Robert reflected a moment.
“But there’s substance under those lush curves and behind those entrancing blue eyes. Her looks
aside, I like Brianna. She’s a good sort. Has a sense of humor and apparently a sense of
adventure, too, that our brother is trying his best to comprehend, even if he hasn’t quite
succeeded yet.”
Damien laughed. “She sounds delightful. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Though Colton isn’t thrilled about it, this celebration will be a good opportunity. At least we
will all be together. Grandmama is looking forward to it. You know how she loves the bustle of a
celebration. Now that she is too infirm to travel back and forth, she misses London.”
“It will be good to see her, and entertaining, I am going to guess, to observe the new Duchess of
Rolthven interacting with Colton.” There was speculation in Damien’s dark eyes. “I admit I was
surprised to hear he made a love match. I wouldn’t have imagined our older brother doing
anything so sentimental.”
It was something Robert himself had pondered, and to tell the truth, it made him uneasy. If it
could happen to Colton . . . well, it could happen to anyone.
Even him?
He said dryly, “I do
n’t think he looks at his marriage that way quite yet. I imagine he believes he
made a practical choice. Brianna is young, beautiful, and of good family. His three essential
requirements. And if put that way, it sounds like he indeed did his duty and selected an
appropriate duchess to serve his illustrious title. However, as one who observed the relationship
from the moment they met, I can say with some authority he reacted to her differently from the
first. Much differently than to any of the other simpering ingénues thrust under his exalted nose
by all those eager mamas on a constant basis. The interest was immediate and, I am happy to say
for him, reciprocated. One of the things I like best about Brianna is I believe the fact that he’s a
duke is incidental to her.”
“As one who is a ducal heir at this moment, that raises her in my estimation.” Damien took a
solid drink of claret and added, “Young ladies on the hunt for titles and fortunes terrify me in a
way no advancing French column could.”
“Luckily for us both, when Brianna gives Colton an heir, we will be saved.”
“Let’s hope it’s soon.”
Remembering Colton’s disquiet over his wife’s adventurous sexual spirit, Robert had to let out a
low laugh. “I think she is effectively working on it.”
Damien raised his brows. “She sounds like a very charming young lady. Tell me, who else might
be on the guest list for this affair?”
“I haven’t asked, but I got the impression from Colton it only involves the family and a few close
friends.”
Close friends. Even as he spoke, Robert idly wondered if the delectable, aqua-eyed Miss Marston
would be included in the party. According to Colton, the young lady was one of Brianna’s trusted
companions, along with the Countess of Bonham. Andrew Smythe, the Earl of Bonham, had
casually mentioned the other evening he and his new wife would be attending the festivities, so
maybe Rebecca Marston would be there also.
Not that it really mattered if she was there or not, Robert thought as he sprawled back
comfortably in his chair, legs extended. Whatever interest she’d piqued had been purely because
she was attractive in an innocent, doelike way, and maybe he was so used to the practiced