The Fifth Wife

by Sahara Kelly

  “How can you say that, my Lord? I quake, I tell you. Quake at the thought of capture by you and your Viking savages.”

  “Much better.” With one move, Charles ripped away the chemise, making her gasp. “Yes, much, much better.” He surveyed his handiwork.

  She stood locked before him in nothing but her skin and her stockings. The white silk stopped just above her knees, tied with pink ribbons. Her dark woman’s curls shone in the candlelight and she looked like the living incarnation of desire.

  “May I assist you in removing your clothing, my Lord Viking? You must be uncomfortable in those…” She nodded at his breeches.

  “You may.” He was indeed uncomfortable. And that was the understatement of the month. The relief occasioned by the removal of his breeches made him release a breath of pleasure, since he was now at full arousal, hard, hot and eager to plunder the English rose standing nude in front of him.

  But he was prepared to be patient. First she needed to be introduced to something new—herself.

  “Come, wench.” He drew her over to the corner of the room, bringing one candle with him.

  There was a piers glass there, hinged on a carved wooden stand.

  The light was low, casting its glow on her body, carving shadows and dusting warmth over the feminine curves.

  Charles reclaimed her wrists and brought them around her body so that her arms and hands were in front of her, held by his. He was in darkness behind her; she was the light in the room.

  “You are going to show me what you like, Hannah.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “You are going to show me the places that will give you the sweetest pleasure when I torture you with my loving.”

  She sighed, leaning against him, and he felt her heat against his cock. The little devil wiggled slightly and his eyes crossed.

  “Stop that.”

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. The provocation was poking me in my back.”

  “I’m a Viking. I never go anywhere without my trusty sword.”

  “And what a weapon it is,” she crooned.

  He could see the smile on her lips as they exchanged loaded jests. “You will feel it soon enough. It will penetrate you, claim you…” He licked her shoulder. “It will make you mine.”

  “I already am.” Her whisper was low and sensual.

  “Then show me. Move my hands to places that arouse you. Show me.”

  Hesitantly, Hannah switched her position so that her hands grasped Charles’s wrists.

  And then, in the dusky glow of the single candle, she raised his arms until his hands could cup her breasts.

  “Here?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “When you touch me here, fire burns inside me.”

  He weighed her, holding the globes in the curve of his palms and letting his fingertips tease her nipples. They hardened into tight buds at his caresses.

  “Yes. Oh yes.” Her muscles tensed and relaxed and tensed again, her breath audible as he gently squeezed the rosy peaks.

  He wished he were an artist at that moment, so that he could paint the picture she made, but he knew the image would stay with him for the rest of his life.

  Her trust, her openness, her willingness to learn with him…he was awed by her.

  And aroused as hell.

  “Show me how to touch you.”

  “I am.” She tilted her head to one side in question.

  “Not there. I will hold your beautiful breasts, love. Show me how you like to be touched elsewhere on your body. Your pussy for instance.”

  She dropped her head forward in embarrassment. “Charles, I-I…”

  “It’s dark, Hannah. Almost pitch black. There’s nobody here but us. Let go of your concerns. We’re a man and a woman who love each other. Dare to show me things you don’t even admit to yourself. Honor me with that gift…”

  He murmured low, his breath teasing her earlobe, his cock brushing against the tops of her buttocks. He kept up the gentle rubs and flickers against her nipples, knowing that the more he did so, the more sensually aware she became.

  He detected that sweet scent of her arousal, her body preparing itself for what lay ahead.

  She trembled a little, then her hands moved away from his, dropping lower toward her thighs.

  “Here,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “It is pleasurable when you touch me here.”

  “Show me,” he insisted.

  To his amazement, she did, letting her fingertips dance through the dark curls to the mysteries of her woman’s parts. It then dawned on him that although candlelight was mysterious and seductive, it was also too bloody dark for him to see much of anything.

  It appeared he’d actually outsmarted himself this time. A sad realization and Dev would laugh himself sick. But at least Hannah was having a good time. Her hips were moving slowly and he could feel her skin warming. He’d bet a nice bundle of guineas that she was flushed as her arousal grew.

  Which was all well and good, but there was something missing in her pleasure.

  Him.

  His hands tightened on her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples with caution.

  She moaned, rocking against him, her hands between her legs.

  He was so hard he was in pain…it was time to claim his reward. Once again, he swept her up into his arms making her gasp, and they were on the bed before she could fully open her eyes.

  “Charles…what…”

  “I love you. I love watching you, touching you, looking at you. But the one thing I love most?” He pushed her feet back, bending her legs and spreading them wide. “Being inside you.”

  Suiting action to words, he poised himself at her opening, took his weight on his hands—and slid into her, deeper and deeper, until he was snug against her, buried within her boiling silk.

  She sucked in a breath of air at his penetration, and groaned when he moved a little, rubbing the base of his cock against her inner flesh. “I love this the most too.”

  They were the last words she spoke until she broke beneath him, his cock thrusting into her, her hips lifting to welcome each deep plunge. They gave and took and gave again, chasing each other up the slope to the ultimate peak.

  And when they reached it, they jumped together, two hearts thundering, two bodies shaking, two mouths sighing out meaningless sounds of ecstasy.

  Flying back down to reality, hand in hand, they tumbled into an untidy pile of limbs and linens, panting for air, damp with sweat and sex.

  “God, Charles.” She moaned the words, easing a lock of hair from beneath his shoulder.

  He pulled the covers up. “I’m good, darling. Not that good.”

  She laughed and curled into him. “Trust me. I just heard angels singing. It was that good.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?”

  She sighed, relaxing into his embrace. “Mmm.”

  It was the casual joy of moments like this that made his life complete. Simple, undemanding…just pure happiness.

  Seconds before sleep claimed him, Charles had a moment of blinding clarity. He knew what they needed to do to finish this business for once and for all.

  *~~*~~*

  “We’ve been complicating all the facets of this business.” Charles reached for the jam. “Over-thinking, over-planning…” He took a bite of his toast. “The answer is to simplify just about everything.”

  “Ah.” Dev blinked at his plate full of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, kidneys and a sausage for good measure. “Well, that takes care of that then.” He picked up the salt shaker and liberally seasoned his food.

  Hannah sliced her sausages, and took a scone for good measure. She could see Charles quivering to expand on his declaration, but she followed Dev’s lead. “I see I managed to snabbled a husband with a brilliant mind.”

  “Very smart of you, Hannah.”

  “Thank you, Dev. I thought so.”

  Charles gave a gusty sigh. “If you’re both quite finished with this little comedy of yours, I’d be happy to share
the details of my plan.”

  Hannah widened her eyes and blinked at him. “Oh would you? That would be lovely, wouldn’t it Dev?”

  “As long as he doesn’t go on too long about it.” Dev sipped tea.

  “All right.” Charles threw up his hands. “I surrender.”

  Dev looked at Hannah and they both burst out laughing.

  “Sorry, lad. I couldn’t help baiting you. And your wife was right on target. Sharp girl, this one.” He nodded with approval.

  “I’ll deal with her later. Meanwhile, you sod, I’ve a mind to consign you to the part of the plan that involves a pigsty.”

  Hannah sat up. “There are pigs involved?”

  “Not yet. But there could be.” Charles shot a threatening glare at Dev. “So if the two of you have quite finished…”

  “We’re done.” Dev brushed his lips with his napkin and stood. “Let’s hear it.”

  Hannah stood as well, smiling at her husband as he rose to help her from her chair. “Forgive us, my dear. I know I can’t wait to hear your ideas. And since Dev hasn’t had any of his own, I’m sure he’s filled with impatience as well.”

  “Ouch.” Dev clasped his heart. “Thy dagger drives deep, Milady.”

  “Oh hush.” She swirled away to the small parlor on Charles’s arm.

  “It came to me last night,” he said. “Just before I fell asleep, I was thinking how the simple things in life are sometimes all you need. And I realized that the driving force behind Hannah’s father’s actions is simple. He is consumed by greed. Nothing more complicated than that.”

  “For the talisman? Greed for an ancient artifact?” Dev seemed thoughtful.

  “I don’t think it’s the talisman itself.” Hannah settled into the corner of the couch. “He’s always been someone who has to be in control. I’m sure the number of women in his household must have been a terrible trial to him, but even so. I don’t remember a time when he was tender or gentle. He viewed such emotions as weak.”

  “It’s the power,” agreed Charles. “At some point he picked up a morsel of information that said this talisman held an undefined Viking power.”

  Dev lifted his eyebrow. “The power to freeze a fjord?”

  “I doubt it.” Hannah shook her head. “No, the kind of power he’d want would be the power to lead people into his way of thinking. To command them to bend to his will.”

  “He tried it with you, didn’t he?” Charles glanced at her..

  “He tried it with all of us,” she answered. “My older sisters were more obedient. But by the time he got to me…well, you know…” She shrugged.

  “I’ll agree with all this,” said Dev. “But where’s the simple solution to our plan?”

  Charles leaned against the couch behind Hannah. “It’s right in front of us.” He paused dramatically. “Hannah’s going to give him exactly what he wants.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Charles watched in amusement as the two faces in front of him revealed confusion.

  “Just give it to him?” Hannah squeaked.

  “Yes. Just give it to him.”

  Dev was thoughtful. “Hmm.” He narrowed his gaze at Charles. “Devious. Very devious.”

  “Au contraire, mon ami. It’s not really devious at all. He’s gone to astounding lengths to threaten Hannah, and for one end only. To obtain this talisman. He believes it will give him power.”

  Hannah nodded. “That’s correct. But what about his cohort, this mysterious Mr. Smith?”

  Charles smiled. “That’s where the nifty part of this plan kicks in. If we give the talisman directly to Derby, then the usefulness of Mr. Smith has concluded. He is no longer needed.”

  “So he just goes quietly off into the hills?” Dev looked askance, then grunted, frowned…and whistled through his teeth. “Damn. I wish I’d thought of it.”

  “What? What did you think of? Don’t be so bloody secretive, both of you.” Hannah was having a hard time keeping up.

  “What Charles is saying, Hannah, is that Mr. Smith must have been in this entire business for some kind of gain. Does he believe in the power of the talisman, as does your father? We can’t possibly know. But for my part, I’m leaning toward the financial end of things. Mr. Smith was promised some cold hard cash, and probably quite a lot of it.”

  “Agreed.” Charles nodded.

  “Oh.” She looked at one man, then the other. “Ahhh.” She grinned.

  Charles grinned back. “Yes. Once Mr. Smith is told the matter is concluded, he’s going to want his payment.”

  “And since he didn’t provide the talisman to my father, there’s no reason at all for my father to pay him. And I doubt he’ll be pleased about that.”

  “There we are.” Dev chuckled. “I told you she was smart, Charles.”

  “I told you.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “So to cut line here, you’re setting the two of them at each other’s throats.”

  Dev cleared his throat. “Essentially, yes. Forgive us, Hannah. But your father is not a nice person, so don’t expect sympathy.”

  She nodded. “He’ll get none from me, and I don’t expect any from either of you. It pains me to admit what a terrible man he is, but after what I’ve experienced…” She shuddered. “However, I learned things while at the Mayflower. I learned that he has some kind of financial interest, which is quite profitable. And this surprises me, since I do not recall a childhood rich in luxuries.” She snorted. “Which, to judge by the money I saw on the desk in Redbridge, he could have well afforded.”

  Dev looked puzzled. “I suppose that could be explained if his association with the…er…houses of ill repute is of recent date?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Hannah shrugged. “How would one tell?”

  “Regular absences, perhaps? Or longer than usual trips away from home?” Charles threw out the casual inquiry toward his wife.

  She thought about it for a bit. “It’s hard to say. When we were little, I never really noticed whether he was there a lot. We were a large family and there was always a lot going on. And truthfully, I suppose I avoided him when I could because there was never any great affection there.”

  “How about visitors to the house?” Dev asked.

  Once again, Hannah took a few moments to reflect. “Now you come to mention it, I believe there were more in these past few years. We were lucky to have a large house very close to the inn my father runs, but once my sisters left…well, I noticed a few more guests coming to see us. Or my father, I should say. But no more than one or two now and again.”

  “The same people?” Charles leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.

  “I cannot say. I’m sorry. I really didn’t pay that much attention. I wish now I had.”

  “You weren’t to know. And there’s nothing to say these people were anything out of the ordinary.” Charles smiled at her.

  “Yes, but what if one of them was this Mr. Smith?” She clenched a fist on her lap. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a few moments alone with him. Using poor Benby like he did, and the whole kidnapping incident. My father may be behind it all, but Smith carried it out. I’d like to horsewhip the both of them, to be honest.”

  “I’ll hold ‘em for you,” endorsed Dev.

  “And you can use my whip,” Charles added.

  “Done, gentlemen. I’ll not forget to hold you to it.” Hannah grinned. Now that was more like it. “So how do we go on from here?”

  Three heads bent toward each other, and three voices spoke late into the morning. By noon, they were done and the plan was agreed upon.

  Hannah was relieved beyond measure.

  *~~*~~*

  Charles was satisfied that all was in order when he and Hannah left Fontaine House a fortnight later. This was the trip that would bring to an end the threat under which Hannah had labored.

  Neither of them believed that her father would launch an assault on Charles’s family home, but neither had felt relaxed enough to travel much fart
her afield than the village.

  It would be good to have the matter settled and done with.

  Dev had left Fontaine Hall to do his part in the rumor-spreading, and was to meet them just outside Little Sparling, the nearest center of habitation to the Derby Inn.

  Calling it a center of habitation was probably a bit overdone, since—as Hannah patiently explained—there wasn’t much more than a smithy, and an all purpose shop which sold sundries to those who could afford them. The rest of the modest cottages belonged to the farmers who worked the land around them on behalf of the Sparling family.

  The Sparlings, again according to Hannah, had owned half the county centuries ago, but had fallen out of favor at court at some point when a sordid scandal rocked the family. And no, she didn’t know what it was.

  The Sparlings were down to their last thousand acres, and finally starting to show a profit from their farms. Especially, he learned, a particularly fine apple.

  It was quiet enough for their purposes, but not deserted enough that three people meeting would cause comment.

  At least he hoped not. He did not want any hint of impropriety attached to the Derby name if he could avoid it. For the sake of the remaining family, if not the patriarch himself.

  If everything went as planned, they’d be well away before any trouble, although he’d taken the precaution of putting his dagger into its spot. He liked knowing it was there…just in case.

  He and Hannah would go into the Inn, where her father would be expecting them. He’d replied to Hannah’s letter with alacrity—making her observe that Dev’s rumor ruse had succeeded very well indeed.

  Charles had also asked her not to mention their marriage; he believed it would be better if Derby thought of her as his daughter still, rather than Lady Penvale. He might be less restrained in his discourse, thus revealing the identity of the mysterious Mr. Smith.

  So he was to be her servant.

  She’d rather enjoyed that thought, and entered into the spirit of things with unseemly enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he minded the livery, but he did object to having his arse pinched whenever the “lady” passed him.