by Sadie Bosque
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you do need a wife?”
Kensington let out a breath as if his patience were waning. “I’m a peer, Payne. And I, unlike you, take my duties seriously.”
Blake didn’t bother responding to that. He whirled on his heel and stalked out of the room. Remaining with the righteous and oh-so-proper duke another moment would make him gag.
* * *
Annalise walked into her bedroom after Lavinia left and stopped short at the sight.
Every surface in her room was filled with bouquets of dark red roses. Annalise slowly entered farther into the room and fingered the petals of the rose closest to her. She noticed that there were notes on each of the bouquets and started picking them up and reading them. Every note contained just one word, an adjective: beautiful, astonishing, wonderful, brilliant, delightful, and other outrageous compliments. Annalise felt her eyes tear up and her cheeks burn. This reminded her of how Blake used to court her. Relentlessly, unashamedly, extravagantly. She turned as she heard a light knock and saw Blake enter her room.
“I hope you like them,” he said in a low voice.
Annalise blinked to keep her tears at bay. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered.
“I am glad. Would you mind joining me for a short stroll about the gardens?”
He was so formal, although mischief sparkled in his eyes. Annalise couldn’t help but smile in response. Caught up in her reminiscence and by this unexpected gesture, she couldn’t refuse. So she walked toward him and put her hand on his sleeve.
“Lead the way.”
* * *
Blake walked through the garden path with his wife on his arm. There was a time he hadn’t thought he would ever feel this peaceful again. Her quiet breaths, her warmth at his side, and her scent were incredibly soothing. He felt all his worries melting away. They hadn’t spoken since the moment they exited her room. She probably didn’t want to ruin the idyllic atmosphere, either. They’d both been through a lot in the past year and a half. They both deserved one quiet evening.
Only he didn’t want just one evening. He wanted the rest of his life to be full of these moments spent in blissful contentment. Or perhaps even happiness.
“Tell me,” he said and cleared his throat. “How did you spend your day?’
She flicked her eyes at him briefly before returning her gaze ahead. “I spent most of the day with Lavinia. You remember Lavinia, don’t you?” He nodded, although he really didn’t. “We were discussing what she’ll wear to the ball. She needs a new gown, so we shall go to a fitting tomorrow.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Annalise raised a brow. “You want to join four ladies on an outing to a modiste?”
Four? Blake feigned nonchalance. “Why not?”
Annalise’s eyes twinkled. “Listening to our chatter about fabrics, waiting for hours while we try things on?”
“I would enjoy just being around you,” he said, and Annalise’s eyes softened.
“Then perhaps we can schedule another outing to a modiste just the two of us.”
Blake blinked. He was certain she didn’t mean it as innuendo, but visions of Annalise in revealing sensual undergarments paraded in front of his eyes. “I would love that very much.”
Annalise smiled. “I don’t want to make my unmarried friends uncomfortable by having you with us.”
Blake nodded. “It’s a ladies’ outing, I understand.”
“Oh, before I forget, I promised to chaperone Lavinia to Caroline’s ball. She has no one to go with.”
This news didn’t sit well with Blake, but he nodded. As much as he disliked the idea of sharing his carriage with another woman when he could’ve been alone with his wife, he imagined refusing would be even worse.
“Are you going to order a gown for yourself too?”
“I don’t need one; I have plenty.” She waved the matter away.
“Do you? It wouldn’t hurt to have another. I can’t imagine you’ve procured a new wardrobe since my disappearance.”
“Oh, I’ve had dozens of new gowns made recently for my—” She stopped abruptly and looked away. Blake looked at her in curiosity. “For my trousseau,” she finished lamely, and suddenly he wished he hadn’t asked.
The pain of being replaced so quickly and so easily settled deep in his chest. He made an effort to nudge it aside.
“Are you looking forward to the ball then?” he asked, to change the subject.
“Not really. Half of London’s high society will be in attendance, and everybody is going to be watching us and trying to interpret our every glance, every gesture.” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t enjoy being on display, but it is necessary to get through it sooner rather than later. After that, it will be easier.”
“Will it?” The words escaped his mouth before he had time to think about them. He wasn’t sure what he meant by the question, but he wasn’t talking about appearing in front of the aristocrats.
Annalise swallowed. “We shall have to behave like a happy, reunited couple.”
Blake stopped and turned to look at her. “And we aren’t?”
“Blake…” She looked away for a moment, biting her lip.
He took her hands in his and ran his thumbs over her palms. She still didn’t look at him.
“Annalise, are you truly that unhappy I am back?”
She looked at him then, her eyes large and vulnerable. “Of course, I am happy. Blake, when you disappeared I… I regretted a lot of the things we said, and I wished a million times that everything was different—”
“It could be—”
“—but it isn’t,” they said at the same time. “You’ve changed. A lot. And I can see that.” She chewed on her lips nervously before continuing. “But not where it matters.”
Blake stood stricken. He didn’t know what to say to that. His mind went blank, and it felt as if a dagger was struck through his heart. He cleared his throat and turned back to the path. “I shall change your mind,” he finally said.
The Wedding Night
Summer 1739
Blake stood in his dressing room while his valet tied his cravat in elaborate knots. Blake didn’t care what his cravat looked like most days, but this was his wedding day, so he could withstand a little torture from his valet as long as he looked presentable for his bride.
His father entered then, all big and powerful, shrinking the space in Blake’s dressing room. He turned to the valet. “You can go now,” he said and waited for the servant to leave. “Good,” he said with a nod, still eyeing Blake. “You look good. Now, let’s go to your sitting chamber so we might speak more comfortably.”
Blake followed his father and sat across from him. His father lit a cigar, which he took out of his breast pocket, took a drag, and eyed Blake from beneath his bushy eyebrows.
“You did well so far,” he said. “You finished your education, you traveled the continent, you sowed your wild oats, and it’s a good time you decided to marry. Good,” he repeated with a nod. “Now, you need to learn something about marriage.”
“What’s that?” Blake sat back in his chair in a deceptively relaxed pose, although he was seething on the inside. The last thing he wanted was another lecture from his father. But he would listen like he always did, and he would follow his advice, too, just like he always did. Always a dutiful son.
“The wife is not like a mistress. Oh, no.” His father shook his head again, puffing on his cigar. “The mistress is made for pleasure, while the wife is made for duty.”
Bedding Annalise seemed anything but a duty to Blake, but he didn’t say anything aloud.
“The wife’s main purpose is to beget as many heirs as she can. It is an uncomfortable duty, painful.” He grimaced in distaste. “That is why you ought to prepare her for it.”
“Prepare her? How?” Blake’s scowl deepened.
“No cuddling her. No gentleness. No prolonged lovemaking, and under no circumstances do y
ou pleasure her.”
Blake raised his brows. For one thing, it was unseemly to discuss such things with one’s father, but on the other hand, he wanted to ask why. He reveled in the idea of pleasuring his wife, kissing her long and leisurely.
“She’ll become too soft, and she won’t be able to birth you healthy sons,” his father said as if hearing his thoughts. This seemed like nonsense, the kind of which Blake had never heard. “Mark my words, son. You rut on her as many times as you can, as often as you can, and as fast as you can. That way, there’ll be more chance of you begetting sons. After you were born, I had gotten soft with your mother, and look where it got her.”
Dead. Blake’s mother died birthing her second son, and the babe had followed, dying a few days later.
“If I’d been rougher with her, she’d have been able to withstand childbirth the second time. I know you think you want to be gentle with her, to experience pleasure in the marital bed, but let me save you some time. Mistresses are for pleasure; wives are for duty. Your bride won’t be responsive to you in bed anyway, so you may as well not even start trying. And if you don’t believe me, you just wait and see on your wedding night. Your bride will know nothing of how to pleasure you. She will be skittish and frightened. Ladies are not bred for prolonged, tender lovemaking. They are stiff as a board and unpleasant to lie with. She will act disgusted the moment you come to her bed. Mark my words.”
Blake shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t think what the old earl was telling him held any merit, but it planted some seed in his head. He had no idea where that seed would lead him.
After the wedding ceremony was over, he went with his father and friends to a tavern, then to clubs, then to a place that looked like a whorehouse. As the rutting and the debauchery began in earnest, someone shoved Blake into a carriage and conveyed him home.
Blake was grateful to that someone, whoever that was. He thought it might have been Jarvis, but there was no way he would ever remember.
When he got home, disheveled and debauched, his innocent wife had already been sleeping in her bed.
He stalked toward her, leaving his clothes discarded in his wake. Blake climbed into bed with her, and only then did she awaken.
Annalise looked at him, and a slight smile appeared on her lips. “You’re back,” she said with a pleased smile and put her arms around him.
Blake grunted an answer and rolled on top of her. He kissed her on the mouth, and Annalise squirmed beneath him.
“What?” he asked hoarsely, and Annalise averted her face.
“You smell of spirits, cigars, and God knows what else!” she said indignantly.
“So what?” he asked in a slurred voice.
“Well, it’s not pleasant,” she answered crisply.
“Well, dear wife. It’s not going to be pleasant. Neither is begetting heirs, so you better get used to it.”
“Get used to what?” Annalise’s voice grew panicked.
Your bride will know nothing of how to pleasure you. She will be skittish and frightened. His father’s voice rang in Blake’s drunken head, making him more irritable than he was.
“Spread your legs,” he said hoarsely while raising Annalise’s shift.
“What?” Her gaze was running over his features, her hands clutching at her fabric.
Her frightened visage made Blake’s heart soften.
Blake rolled off her lightly and propped himself on the elbow. “Darling,” he slurred. “No need to be scared. It will hurt only a little, but I promise you, I want you so much, it will be over in a second.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Annalise whispered, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
Blake heaved a sigh. His father was right. She had no idea how to pleasure anybody. She was frightened and skittish. But even through his drunken haze, he couldn’t force himself on her.
He leaned in and kissed her eyes one by one. Annalise hugged him closer to her, and he moved to kiss her ears, then her neck.
Annalise’s chest was moving in an accelerated rhythm, her nipples straining against the thin fabric and making him harder than he already was. He kissed the tips of her breasts through her night shift, and she whimpered.
Blake suckled on her nipples through her shift, then slowly lifted it and whispered into her ear, “Spread your legs, darling. I can’t wait any longer.”
He placed his forehead against hers, took himself in hand, and guided his cock to her core.
“I don’t know what to do,” Annalise whispered, then wrapped her arms around his neck.
“It will be quick,” Blake gritted between his teeth, spreading her thighs wider. “I promise.”
Blake entered her in one swift motion. Annalise held on to him tightly, her breaths hitting him against his ear.
He didn’t see her face. Perhaps it was twisted in fear, maybe disgust. She tensed in his arms and didn’t truly relax until it was over. She lay under him, silently, enduring his drunken rutting. He was done in a few short minutes and fell asleep soon after. No soothing her fears, no cuddling or gentleness.
She was soft and innocent, while he acted like a beast.
Chapter 8
Annalise chatted away with her friend as they set out for the ball the next evening. In the dimly lit carriage, Blake could not take his eyes off his wife. Her inner glow spread through her entire being. She was beautiful. She had a lovely face, an exquisite figure, true. But her real beauty shone from within.
Her kindness, gentleness, and exuberant spirit could all be seen sparkling in her eyes.
Blake’s gaze drifted from her face down to her body. She wore a deep ruby gown with a golden frill at the bodice and the edge of the skirts. Clear gems decorate the bodice, which was so low it couldn’t help but draw the eye.
Blake swallowed loudly as he continued studying his wife’s form. She didn’t seem to notice his regard. She was discussing something animatedly with Lady Lavinia, who apparently had been her childhood friend. Blake had not remembered seeing the lady before this night, but evidently, they’d met on numerous occasions.
What else had he missed in the past?
No wonder Annalise was cold and distant with him now. He had been selfish in the past, too absorbed with his own issues, acting like a careless youth. Annalise had not been more than an accessory to him at the time. He was used to conquering, pursuing to win. But once he got her, he had no clue of what to do with her next.
After the disaster of the wedding night, Blake wondered how he expected her to ever forgive him.
But he vowed to change everything as it stood between them. He had learned to value his life and precious moments in that life. And no moment was precious to him without Annalise by his side.
When the carriage stopped, Blake jumped out and helped the ladies out of the vehicle. He lingered slightly as he held his wife. He’d missed her warmth and her scent, and he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of holding her close to him. She lifted her questioning gaze to him. Blake winked and slowly let her go. He’d have a lifetime of holding her now.
The wait to get to the ballroom was long, the crowd at the ball too dense, and Blake felt himself bristling with impatience.
Annalise was right. Everybody was staring at them. Every single person passing by or simply in his line of vision made it their duty to stare at them like they were curiosities at the local fair.
Blake turned to his wife just to find her still chatting to her friend, seemingly unaware of the attention they were drawing to themselves. He lowered his head to hers and whispered in her ear. “Didn’t you say we should pretend to be blissfully in love tonight at the ball?”
He saw with satisfaction that her skin was covered in goosebumps at the sound of his voice.
She turned a gentle smile to him. “I am to chaperone Lavinia tonight. I can’t be making adoring eyes at you with my charge at my side.”
“Too bad. I would have enjoyed it immensely. Am I allowed to make adoring e
yes at you while you talk to your charge?”
Annalise’s cheeks turned red as she gave him a reproving glance. Not an adoring expression, but it would do for now.
They finally made their way to the host, exchanged pleasantries with him and his niece, and moved along.
Blake looked around the throng of people. He saw Jarvis in a circle of his gentlemen friends. The same friends they’d been with at the gambling hell the night of his disappearance. Blake scanned the men with his gaze. There was Mr. Greyson St. John, Jarvis’s cousin, and the new Earl of Bradshaw, formerly Lord Boyle. Perhaps they should be on his list of suspects, too. Only Blake barely crossed paths with them, aside from their drunken debaucheries, and he could think of no reason they would want him dead.
Not that there was a reason Jarvis would want him gone, either.
Blake called him one of his best friends, but come to think of it, he knew nothing about him. Other than he enjoyed high-risk stakes when he gambled, and he was there for Blake when he needed him. Blake didn’t know what Jarvis did during the day or what his financial situation was or anything, really, and he had never been curious. Until the night he’d been captured on the way to Jarvis’s carriage, that was. Now Jarvis had all of his attention.
When Blake had met Jarvis earlier this week in the park, the sun was behind his head, shadowing his features. That way, he looked exactly like the man from his nightmare. Perhaps the dream had been triggered by his suspicions. Blake shook his head. How was he to discover the truth if he couldn’t differentiate between dream and reality?
“Oh, look, there he is!” Annalise announced excitedly.
Both she and her friend turned to stare at some point in the room. Blake followed their gaze and watched the Duke of Kensington enter the ballroom. Blood boiled inside his veins. Didn’t Annalise think he’d heard her? Couldn’t she at least hide her interest in her former fiancé?