They sat on the couch together, unchaperoned in the Greyfield parlor; Lady Rose and the Duchess were in another room, talking. Patrick has stripped off his gloves to hold Melissa’s bare fingers in his own. “If it would decrease the gossip…we can be engaged for a little longer. If your parents don’t mind.”
“I am sure they will not.”
“I wish I could do something more to make this better.” He sighed regretfully.
She covered his hand with hers. “You already have.”
“I must go before we become too scandalous. But first, you must tell me your favorite jewel, so I may buy you a proper engagement gift.”
“No!”
“You would prefer something else?”
“Don’t be absurd, Patrick, I have enough jewels. I do not need more. You must not go to any trouble.”
“Indeed I shall, and since it was an emerald that brought us together, that is what I will bring.”
“Patrick,” Melissa scolded. “Marrying me will be expensive enough already, without you wasting your funds on emeralds.”
“Nothing that pleases you could be a waste,” Patrick said. “But fine, I shall buy nothing yet.”
“Good.”
“I will make them a wedding present. That will give me time to have something made.”
“Patrick!”
“I need to go, there is so much to plan.”
“Ridiculous,” Melissa said.
Melissa escorted him to the door, as they seemed unable to leave each other’s side before it was absolutely necessary. She jammed her hat low over on her eyes, keeping her face lowered as if she expected to be jeered at by passersby.
Patrick vowed to do something about the situation, to allay Melissa’s discomfort. A thought came to him; now that Melissa and he were engaged, there was no reason Patrick could not actually throw a ball in her honor, officially, now that they were no longer to wed in secret. He could invite close friends, Melissa’s–other–father and they could begin their new life as they meant to go on. The slight touch of her hand on his arm had him turning to her with a smile.
“Goodbye Patrick.”
“I will see you soon, Melissa.”
Her touch burned long after his carriage had departed and Patrick was on his way home.
Epilogue
Foxtrot
Rose was becoming a tad bit tiresome, vacillating between blaming her for their mother’s melancholy and accusing Melissa of stealing her fiancé.
Melissa sighed, holding grimly onto her patience. “He was never yours, Rose. Accept it.”
Her parents had called her into the study soon after their arrival back in London and told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to speak of what transpired at Cheshmill hall to anyone–not even Rose who had somehow failed to notice anything untoward.
“Not even that I am not her sister?” she asked.
The Duke had shot to his feet. “You are her sister,” he cried, hitting the table with his fist and quite disconcerting both Melissa and her mother. Her father was not one to get mawkish.
“I simply meant…” she began to say quietly.
“I know what you meant,” The Duke cut her off quite effectively, “and I shall not have it. Nothing has changed.” He stared at her with beady eyes and she did indeed understand. He was saying that he was still her father. Something that had knotted tight in her chest loosened on its own and she took her first full breath in days.
“Yes, father.”
So she had to endure Rose’s cutting remarks in silence. Rose had been taken aback when their mother had said nothing about the change in Melissa’s status. She attributed it to the blue devils and fingered Melissa as the source. As such, she took every opportunity to harangue her.
“You see how you break her heart with your stubbornness? She wanted me to marry Lord Bergon.”
“Well, that’s too bad because he wants to marry me,” Melissa finally broke and snarled back. She then ran out of the house so that she would not be tempted to say anything else.
* * *
On her wedding night, excitement permeated every cell of Melissa’s body. She would be with Patrick, invariably, for the rest of their lives. It made her giddy just thinking about everything they would have the chance to experience together. She still very much wanted to travel the world even if they were not eloping.
Here she was, on the precipice of another first with Patrick.
The festivities of the day had been quite overwhelming, especially with Rose glowering and her two fathers casting wary glances at each other. Now she and Patrick were finally alone and about to enter their home on Grosvenor Street.
“Are you ready, my love?”
Melissa nodded. Patrick leaned down to briefly touch his lips to hers before picking her up and kicking open the door so he could carry her across the threshold. Squealing loudly, she kicked her legs in the air even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.
Once inside, Patrick graciously put her down. They couldn’t help but feast upon each other’s visages for a few moments, unable to stop the dizzy smiles from marring the solemnity of the moment. Finally, Patrick said, “I have a few things I have to see to very quickly. Why don’t you wait upstairs for me? I won’t be more than ten minutes.”
“Patrick, I’d wait a lifetime for you,” she said sentimentally and they both grinned. She quickly kissed him before finding her way to her new bedchambers. Brynn had already been by and unpacked her clothes for the night. After quickly washing with the gently-steaming water in the wash basin, she changed into the light confection of cotton and lace, and then let her hair down, brushing it vigorously so it fell about her shoulders in a shimmering brunette curtain.
Once she was done, she found herself at a loss as to what to do next. Electing to sit on the bed, she gazed out the window as she waited for Patrick. The sky was dark and the sounds of the city vaguely drifted up to her through the open window. This was the sound she was going to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning, Patrick by her side always.
She loved it.
From behind her, she heard Patrick open the door and she stood up, startled.
“Oh, Melissa.”
Patrick stood in the doorway, captivated by the sight of his new bride clad in a see-through night rail. He quickly made his way to her, swooping in to capture her lips in a searing kiss imbued with all of the passion and pent-up longing of their courtship.
He let himself experience her in a way he didn’t dare to before, having had a taste of what they could spark in each other at Convent Garden. Emboldened by his actions, Melissa lightly tugged on his lower lip, pulling it between her teeth. Patrick slowly groaned at the sensation, holding her tight against him, unable to help himself even though he had resolved to go slow. Spurred on by his reactions, Melissa’s fingers trailed downward and began to unbutton his shirt. But her inexperience caused her hands to shake so badly that Patrick had to finish the task for her.
She allowed herself a moment to unabashedly take him in, her beautiful Patrick. She had never seen a gentleman like this, and she slowly ran her hands down his chest, feeling the fine hair and soft skin over rock hard muscle beneath her fingers. She looked up at Patrick and pulled him into another kiss, resting her hands at the waistline of his trousers and toying with it.
“God, Melissa, you look so beautiful. The entire day all I could think about was bringing you home and slowly unlacing your gown. I desire to watch as you fall apart beneath me, knowing full well that nobody but me will ever see you like this, laid out on our bed. Our marriage bed, Melissa, because we managed it, and…” Melissa cut him off with another kiss, smiling to herself at Patrick’s delightful verbosity.
Together, they toppled onto the bed, with Patrick on top of Melissa. He pressed down against her, letting her feel his arousal. She shifted her hips a little bit to accommodate him between her legs which brought his member flush against her. Slightly intimi
dated, but determined to overcome it, she ground up against him and Patrick made the most beautiful little sound.
She wanted to hear him make that sound again and wished she knew how to deliberately do that. His mouth came down upon hers, hot and searing and she arched back into him, letting him know that she was his. She wondered if he would do what that man had done to the woman of the night.
If so, she was ready for it. She reached up and loosened the lace at her throat and he took it for the invitation it was, swooping down and scooping her breast out. His mouth closed upon her nipple, making her cry out in shock and pleasure. He suckled her, as he rubbed her breast, his other hand reaching down to push her nightgown up and out of the way. One hand was on her breast, the other between her legs and his hot mouth worked diligently on her nipple.
Melissa hardly knew where to focus. Everything was just this side of too much. She began to undulate, feeling her body relax and loosen, wanting to let him in. She opened her mouth, wanting to beg for something, but lacking the experience to know what. Her hand slid behind his neck, cradling his head gently as she pulled him closer to her.
Small whimpering sounds fell from her lips as he made encouraging noises, and whispered absent compliments into her flesh.
“Oh!” she cried as his finger breached her opening and brushed against something round and swollen that caused her to leak like an old bucket. She jerked upward, making a hungry sound that embarrassed her mightily, but he simply swooped down, thrusting his tongue down her throat as he squeezed her breast and she had no spare emotions left to be embarrassed. Her hands explored his broad back, snaking into his breeches and cupping his bottom. It was his turn to jerk in surprise, making a grunting sound that made her laugh. Then he was up on his knees, divesting himself of his clothes and displaying himself to her in full naked glory.
“Your turn,” he growled, eyes glowing with a hunger she had never seen before. She reached for her gown at once, pulling it over her head and leaving herself exposed to his gaze. He smiled proudly. “Brave girl,” he whispered.
She colored prettily even as he fell atop her, then they were both laughing and her legs were wrapping themselves around his waist.
“Oh God,” he groaned, teeth closing around her ear as his hips jerked. She could feel him like a length of iron, seeking entry.
Yes. Do it. I’m ready.
The familiar wetness that came about every time she thought of him kissing her smoothed his way so that she hardly felt any pain. The shocking immediacy of having him inside her might have overshadowed any other sensations and she froze, trying to listen to her body.
Her body was telling her to move. She wiggled experimentally and he cried out in what sounded like shock.
“Did I hurt you?”
“N-no,” he moaned, “but I need you to lie very still or this will be over before it has even begun.”
“A-as you wish.”
She lay as still as she could and very soon, he was the one moving, thrusting against her, causing jolts of sensation to shoot from her center to every part of her body.
“Oh,” she said, completely understanding what the moaning had been about. She arched, giving him more access and his thrusts got faster. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto her naked breasts. It was all very…intimate. His slate-grey eyes met her hazel ones and held on, his hand lacing with hers as he rode her to completion.
“Oh, my Lord,” she murmured as he collapsed on the bed beside her. He immediately turned to face her.
“Melissa?”
She turned to him a wide grin on her face. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much for asking.”
His smile got as wide as hers. “I am happy to hear it.”
“Can we do that again soon, please?” she asked.
He lay on his back and laughed long and hard.
* * *
Melissa came down to the breakfast nook, to see that Patrick had already had his morning meal and had left for the day. She sighed, trying to think what to do with her day. She loved her life but she was still finding her feet. Grosvenor House had run efficiently for years with no mistress and it was taking time for the household to recognize her as an authority. It was partly her fault because, for the first three months of marriage, she had been completely consumed by Patrick and their burgeoning relationship.
She wasn’t even sure if she had spoken more than three words to Brynn. Her face brightened as she thought of her friend. Surely she would have some idea of what Melissa could do to pass the time. She picked up the bell and rung it. Less than a minute later, a footman was at the door, ready to serve.
“Can you fetch me my lady’s maid, please?” she asked.
“Of course milady,” the man bowed to her before leaving. She smiled, shaking her head. Apparently, not being used to having a mistress made the staff extra solicitous of her as if she were some delicate thing that might fall apart if they weren’t.
Brynn came in a few minutes later and plopped herself down on the seat next to Melissa, stealing a piece of bread from her plate. She was relieved that at least Brynn treated her the same.
“I’m bored. Can we do something?” she asked.
Brynn widened her eyes at her. “Something like what? Melissa! You’re an adult now. A married Lady. You can’t…”
“Oh, do stop scolding me. I just meant we could go for a walk. Perhaps call on my er, father.”
Brynn watched her suspiciously for a while and Melissa tried her best to look innocent. Brynn snorted but got to her feet. “Very well, I shall fetch your shawl. Henry’s coming with us.”
“Fine. I would not dream of separating you from your beau for more than five minutes.”
Brynn gave her a look before heading up to her bedchamber to fetch her shawl. Melissa sighed, shaking her head. Even Brynn had ceased to be her ally in mischief. Now that she thought of it, it was not only her fault that they’d had so little time together. Brynn was spending a lot of time with the handsome footman and Melissa was just waiting for her to make an announcement. She already had the wedding planned in her mind–it was something to do on long cold mornings while Patrick worked.
They walked slowly, Melissa speaking at length about Patrick and the little things that he did which fascinated her. Brynn listened dutifully, an indulgent smile on her face, while exchanging a few conspiratorial glances with Henry now and again. Lord Nordam was pleased to see them and urged them to stay for nuncheon.
“If you’re sure we’re not bothering you?” Melissa said. They were still very tentative with each other, but the Earl’s gentle accepting love was a balm to Melissa’s spirit after years of feeling that she did not fit in her own family.
Lord Nordam was just seeing them off when they caught sight of Patrick, waiting for them outside the gate to the Earl’s residence.
“Patrick!” she cried out in delight, “What are you doing there? Why didn’t you come in?”
Melissa caught sight of his face and her own became solemn. “What’s happened?”
Patrick took a deep shaky breath, reaching for her. She went to him at once. “It’s my father,” he whispered, “he’s been murdered.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Tamed by the Marquess
About the Book
If love was poison, he'd drink it anyway.
Shunned by society her entire life, Joanna Bagley has been living as a nomad amongst the Travellers of Britain. When her daughter gets seriously ill, she has no other choice but to ask for help from the man that has been haunting her past for ye
ars...
Christopher Albertson, now Duke of Gresham, has always been duty-bound, until the death of his domineering father. Knowing no other love than the fair Traveller he fell for many years ago, his life changes unexpectedly when he takes her child under his protection.
But when he gets poisoned, all clues lead to Joanna. With suspicious filters found in her possession, she is thrown in prison, awaiting her horrid fate...
Bewitching The Forbidden Duke (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 28