A Husband Returned: Men of Wicked Sorrow, Book One

by Wynne Roman

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head as though to clear it. She held up the kettle and swallowed again. “Do you want more hot water?”

  He didn’t blink or look away. “Come here.”

  Something in his gaze called to her. She couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to, but she found herself more timid than she might have expected.

  Mariah walked slowly across the room, stopping an arm’s length from him. He took the kettle from her, poured a bit more water into the basin, and then deposited the kettle on the floor. She watched the masculine grace of every movement, noticing belatedly that her breathing tripped as butterflies soared through her midsection.

  “Will you wash me, Rye?”

  The request shouldn’t surprise her after his flirty ways that first day in the bathing room, but it did. In the early days of their marriage, they had never done anything like bathing each other. It seemed so intimate, although it shouldn’t, she told herself bravely. Lovemaking was as intimate as a man and woman could be.

  And yet, somehow, this seemed so much more.

  Gently, she took the cloth from his loose fist, dipped it into the warm water, and took a deep breath as she turned back to him. Her fingers trembled, but she didn’t allow herself to hesitate. She drew the damp washrag over his shoulders, his upper chest, his arms, and even down to his hands.

  He stood still, the only movement being the shallow heave of his chest as he breathed. She looked anywhere but into his face. Only that made it possible for her to do something so intimate for him.

  She rinsed the damp cloth again, wrung out the excess water, and turned back to him. “Was that all right?”

  “I like your hands on me.”

  His admission pleased and excited her at the same time. Despite their time together, she had never had much opportunity to touch him. He hadn’t invited it, and she hadn’t been brave enough to attempt it on her own.

  “I like it, too,” she whispered almost shyly. Her nervousness might seem silly, but her emotions for this man had been through so much in the last few days. They couldn’t seem to settle in any one place.

  “I want more.”

  “More?”

  He smiled wickedly. “Yes. There is more of me to wash.”

  He pointed to his lower body, and she swallowed. She knew what he looked like naked. Knew the strength and power and male beauty of him. Their bodies had joined in that perfect harmony of lovemaking. She could do this.

  Mariah gripped the washrag perhaps a little tighter than was necessary but set to work. She wiped it over his stomach and sides, taking care where the newer scar marred his skin. She noticed several other places where he’d clearly been injured but didn’t ask about them. She didn’t want to bring up painful memories now and recalled clearly his inability to remember the details of the larger wound at his side.

  “Turn around,” she murmured. When he did so, she stroked the damp cloth over the plane of his back. He rolled his shoulders and his spine stiffened as though in appreciation.

  “Even more.” His voice surprised her with its rough undertone.

  “All right.”

  Nathan shed his trousers and drawers with an economy of motion. He tossed them onto the nearby chair, and then he stood naked before her. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t the first time she had seen him this way; she beheld him with heart-stopping appreciation all the same.

  Mariah didn’t mean to peer up directly into his face. It felt as though looking dared him to do more. Go farther. She hadn’t the experience to risk teasing him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from searching his expression for perhaps some semblance of reassurance.

  He looked down at her, his hair falling over his neck and shoulders. His eyes were completely hidden in the shadows. Allowing herself only a moment more, she glanced away, fighting her nervousness as she did so.

  Naturally, she thought a bit wildly, it would be at that moment when she caught sight of his manhood. Straight and hard, erect and taunting. She tried to ignore it, instead turning to refresh the washcloth in the still-warm water.

  Resuming her ministrations, she swabbed carefully over his lower stomach. A trail of hair ran downward from his navel, and she ignored that, too.

  She knelt to wash his legs—thighs, knees, calves, ankles—and avoided his masculinity as much as she could. Her position put her in the awkward position of facing his maleness almost straight on, but she averted her gaze as much as possible. Then, finally, she was finished.

  Mariah rose to her feet, dropped the washrag into the basin, and finally allowed herself to look at her husband once more. His smile was surprisingly tender.

  “You blush the prettiest shade of pink.”

  Her palms went to her cheeks. “I’m not blushing!” But she could feel the heat there.

  He reached for her, pulled her closer to him and his nakedness. “It’s all right, honey. There are a lot of things about sex that I haven’t shown you yet.”

  “More?” she breathed. Her eyes must have gone wide, because he laughed.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not about to introduce you to Sodom and Gomorrah, but let’s see where this night takes us.”

  15

  Nathan positioned Mariah in front of him. Her pansy-colored eyes had gone wide the instant he’d commanded her to wash him, and even now he didn’t miss the flare of panic that remained just under the surface of her expression. He recognized her struggle. His demands were pushing her to the edge of her limits, but she fought for composure. His brave, remarkable wife tried to control her uneasiness. Her fears.

  He admired that about her, but it was time to take things a step further. More than that, actually. After tonight, he would guarantee that no other man—and especially not Gabriel Bonham—could ever lay claim to anything more than a passing notice from his wife.

  Nathan had always been quick and careless during his time with Mariah. He had been a rough and selfish lover and hadn’t cared to think beyond his own desire. He hadn’t taken the time to seduce her, to treat her gently or show her the softer side of passion.

  He would never fall into that miserly trap again.

  Anticipation had him reaching for the top button of her ugly black dress. The fastening was a tiny ebony circle, too small for his big, callused fingers, but he was determined.

  “Today is the last day for this.” He went back to unfastening the recalcitrant buttons. “No more black.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Ahm, yes. I unpacked my other things.” She gestured nervously toward the wardrobe against the far wall.

  He nodded. “Good.”

  It took a few moments of concentration on his part, but finally the bodice of her gown gaped open. He pushed the garment from her shoulders, down her arms to her elbows. “Let’s take this off.”

  She did as he asked, twisting her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, until the dress puddled at their feet. She didn’t quite meet his gaze, but she didn’t actually look away, either.

  He reached for her waist, tugged at the tabs of her petticoats. “Now this.”

  She followed his instructions quickly enough, though her eyes remained trained on a spot that landed somewhere lower than his eyes. His shoulder? His chin?

  When she stood before him in her chemise and pantalettes, he let his heated gaze roam over her with pure, masculine interest. She looked as beautiful now as he’d ever seen her. Except for one thing. He reached behind her and began pulling the pins from her tidy, upswept hair. Her coiffure began to sag and then it collapsed completely when he extracted the last confining hairpin.

  Nathan stretched his arm out to drop the pins on the dresser and then turned back to Mariah with very deliberate intent. He slipped his fingers into the raven black tresses, combing through the length until it spread all around her, falling down her back and over her shoulders.

  “There,” he muttered. “Wear your hair down like that. Every night. Just for me.”

  “All r
ight.” Her voice came out little more than a whisper.

  He watched her with a look he knew carried too much heat, but he did nothing to ease it. She needed to see what he felt. To know not only that he wanted her but how much. Never would he allow things between them to return to the disappointment of those early days of their marriage.

  Yes, there were times when he might still want to take her quick and hard and with a wild abandon, allowing himself all of the craving and urgency of a man on the edge of losing control. He simply wouldn’t do it selfishly any longer. Now, he would be sure to take her on that passionate ride with him.

  Satisfaction settled heavily within him. He had learned his lesson about indulging in Mariah’s pleasure during his first night home. He had seen for himself the difference between a compliant wife and an impassioned woman, and he would never settle for simple acquiescence again.

  Nathan traced a light touch over her collarbone, her skin soft against his rough fingertips. The sensation pleased something elemental within him, leaving him curious about whether Mariah felt the same. Her violet-blue eyes with their sudden slumberous heaviness suggested that she did indeed.

  “Let me undress you.”

  Naked. He wanted her that way, as he was. He didn’t say the word aloud, but the flare in her gaze told him that he didn’t need to. She nodded.

  They had shared the task of undressing her that first night, but he wanted to do it alone tonight. To show her a husband’s care as he revealed every inch of her skin. He plucked at the ties of her chemise, pulling until it gaped open in a taunting display below her throat.

  There she was, he thought with a satisfied smile. Showing him more of that beautiful, satiny skin, tinged so sweetly with that pale pink blush.

  He reached for the hem of the chemise, and she raised her arms to help him. He tugged the garment up and over her head, tossed it over his shoulder, and then simply stared at her breasts. High and firm and beautiful, just as he remembered. As he had told her. They gave her a quintessential womanliness that reached deep inside him, attached itself to his inherent maleness, and demanded some sort of acknowledgment.

  He complied without hesitation.

  Nathan leaned down far enough to place a kiss on her collarbone, exactly as he had traced a line with his fingers. He found the spot on her chest where her chemise had fallen open and pressed his mouth there, too. He followed with a slow, sensual exploration of the curve of her breasts until he could take one nipple into his mouth.

  He paid homage to her body as much as he took anything for himself. He kissed and suckled and stroked over her delightful skin with the tip of his tongue, the barely-there scrape of his teeth. He cupped his hand around the fullness of her other breast.

  Mariah drew in a sharp breath as she arched against him. He didn’t release her but lifted his gaze enough to see that her head and fallen back and her breathing had gone sketchy.

  “Do you like that, honey?” he asked as he licked around one nipple and toyed playfully with the other.

  “Nathan. Yes.” She lifted her head enough that he could see the growing passion that darkened her eyes.

  He turned his attention back to her breasts, switching sides, and performing the same seductive ministrations. The taste of her, the feel of her softness against him, drew a surging response in his own body. He grew harder, tighter, and it wasn’t just his cock that reacted. His arms, legs, chest—everywhere—all responded with growing excitement.

  When his breathing felt nearly as ragged as hers, he pulled away and dropped heavily to his knees. He tugged at the drawstring of her pantalettes, grateful when they parted much as her chemise had. He pushed them to her ankles with no resistance from Mariah or her body.

  He could smell the scent of her arousal from his position before her, and excitement tore through him. The knowledge that she might want him, almost as much as he wanted her, urged him to end even a momentary delay.

  “Lift your leg,” he muttered hoarsely, gratified when she did so. She rested her hands on his shoulders for balance, bringing up first one foot and then the other. He sent the pantalettes the same way as the rest of her clothing, tossed behind him in some haphazard pile, and then rose to his feet with one swift surge.

  “You are so lovely,” he whispered as he took in the briefest gaze of her nude form. A part of him wanted to step back, admire her in all her glory. Not with the disinterest of an unwilling bridegroom or the rediscovered newness of their first encounter after years apart. No, this time he wanted to simply look, appreciate, even adore her beauty, as ridiculously lovesick as that sounded.

  But there was something more he wanted first.

  He pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her plump breasts resting softly against his chest. Her arms went around him without hesitation, and he swallowed a smile as he slipped one hand into her hair. Relief mingled with satisfaction, knowing that she found a certain comfort with him already.

  With a light tug to pull her head back, he bent to press his mouth against hers. Lightly. No pressure, just a slight touch of lips. She sighed as though in relief, and he kissed her again. Again. He maintained the same gentle pressure, no urgency or demand, taking this remarkable second chance to get to know her all over again.

  How many nights would it take? Reacquainting themselves with each other as they made love in this same, inquisitive way. More than one or two, he decided with deep satisfaction as need coursed through him.

  Four years apart and a return from the dead deserved that much at least.

  Their light, easy kisses continued naturally, gradually becoming something more. Longer. Deeper. Clinging with added need. Nathan couldn’t remember ever kissing a woman in exactly this same way, and the knowledge pleased him immensely. He had given his Rye so little; he wanted to give her this.

  With a sigh, Mariah parted her lips, and he took advantage of the moment. He darted his tongue forward, swiping over her top lip, the bottom, and then finding a home inside her mouth.

  She followed his lead and kissed him back. They stood close, naked, held in each other’s arms as the kisses went on and on. Nathan wanted more, so much more, and yet he couldn’t quite give up the satisfaction of Mariah’s mouth. He’d never once thought of himself as a tender man who contented himself with holding and stroking and kissing and caressing, but neither could he stop.

  Then again, the rest of his body would be patient for only so long.

  He swept her up in his arms, and she gave a soft, startled cry. “You’re mine,” he grunted as he carried her to the bed.

  “Yes.” She nuzzled her face against his chest.

  He lowered her gently to the mattress and followed her down. When he would have held himself back to keeping his weight from her, she tightened her hold around his shoulders and anchored him against her.

  “I’m too heavy for you.” He tried to pull away, but again she clutched him to her.

  “No. I want to feel you.”

  He compromised with a roll onto his back, He took her with him until she sprawled over him, and this time he felt her weight. It was slight enough to be hardly noticeable and yet he understood her reasoning all the same.

  His arms around her waist, he secured her hips against his and earned a startled squeak from her. Her mound pressed perfectly against his hardness, earning an inviting flex of his hips. Romance and seduction suddenly lost their allure as his body renewed its demand for its one deepest desire: to be buried in her to the hilt.

  “Can you feel me now?” Even he recognized the sultry inflection that colored his voice.

  “Yes,” she breathed in a long sigh. “You’re very . . . close.”

  He chuckled. His wife wanted, deserved, so much more than he had given her. He delighted in the knowledge that he would teach her all about how fiery they could be together. First, however, he would help her become accustomed to the needs of her body. And his.

  “There are ways of making love like this.”

  Her hea
d drew back to reveal wide eyes and an open mouth. “What?” she whispered, sounding properly scandalized.

  “There are many ways a man and woman can make love.” He stroked a hand down over the smooth curve of her buttocks and back up.

  She blinked. “How?”

  “Would you like me to teach you?”

  She blushed again, which told him that his shy little wife would indeed like to say yes. He pulled her head down to his and caught her mouth in a searing kiss. After no more than a heartbeat, she kissed him back.

  He rolled them again, pinning her beneath his much larger body but this time resting his weight on his arms. He twisted his hips, giving an abbreviated thrust against her, and her legs parted almost automatically, as though she knew what he wanted.

  “Remember the other night?” he asked against her mouth as he adjusted himself between her thighs. The tip of his erection settled boldly against her wetness.

  “Your first night back?”

  “Yes.”

  He nipped at her bottom lip, her jaw, stroked his tongue down over the column of her throat. With one hand, he reached for his hardness to drag it against her femininity.

  She moaned softly. “I remember.”

  “Let me show you again.”

  16

  Mariah had dough rising for bread when she noticed Nathan and several other men grouped in the yard. They stood next to a wagon that had been pulled halfway between the house and the barn, and she recognized two of the Sangre Real’s hands. Luis was a vaquero who had come from Mexico several weeks ago, while Harley was a new man who hadn’t worked for Tristan long. Inserted among them, Gabriel stood tall and proud.

  Dear Lord, what was he doing there?

  She hadn’t heard the sound of the wagon or the men ride in. She shouldn’t be surprised; it was because she’d been too preoccupied by her own thoughts, as she had been all morning. Her memories of the previous night and her lovemaking with Nathan had been taunting her from every angle. Her chest and stomach felt empty and full at the same time, and some kind of inner excitement warmed her skin until she felt overheated.