Since Miranda had come back into Spencer’s life, he’d never been more content. Miranda completed him. He’d been a lost soul for years. It was hard to describe what loving her and receiving her love in return meant to him. Each morning he woke up with her head resting on his chest, causing his heart to flutter. Knowing the one he loved was by his side each day made him feel invincible. Made him feel as though anything were possible.
How could he get in the way of Mary or Elizabeth experiencing the same? Loving and being loved. No other greater joy existed in this vast world.
Amesbury. He didn’t think Elizabeth would ever regret setting her sights on him. He’d admit there was a time he thought he wouldn’t come up to scratch. Especially after the broken betrothal with Lady Beth. They were both fortunate that didn’t cause more of a scandal and one or both of them were ruined. Most likely Lady Beth. Men had a way of being forgiven for bad and ungentlemanly behavior. Not gently bred ladies.
Damn, but they had two weddings to prepare for. Mary’s first. A nice quiet ceremony in the country would suffice. The less attention to the nuptials the better. No sense feeding fuel to the gossips.
Elizabeth and Amesbury could marry where and when they wished. They only needed a small appropriate time between the two. Mary deserved her day, as did Elizabeth.
Perhaps after both weddings, he would take Miranda on an extended trip to the continent. Aunt Violet as well if she so chose. Perhaps Violet would find a nice, lonely gentleman to spend her elder years with.
Chapter Eleven
The day of Mary’s wedding found them at Spencer House, her cousin Bridgeton’s country estate, in Dover. Most of their family and friends were attending. Wentworth’s neighboring estate, Stoney Cross Manor, had a lovely small stone chapel he’d offered for the nuptials. The same chapel Wentworth and his duchess, Emma, Bridgeton and his countess, Amelia, and Myles and his countess, Bella married in. To Mary’s heart, she was being blessed and honored to exchange vows within the same ancient stone walls.
As Mary walked up the small, narrow aisle on Spencer’s arm her heart pounded. Smythe’s intense eyes never left her face, nor did the smile on his lips falter. He looked more handsome than she remembered. A week had gone by since she’d last set eyes on him. Seeing him now, sent her body aquiver and her heart soring. At the end of the aisle, Spencer kissed her on the cheek and whispered into her ear, “I’m so happy for you. Now you have your happily-ever-after as Miranda and I.”
Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He removed her hand from his arm and held it out, offering her to Smythe. “Take care of my sister.”
“I will.”
Spencer took his seat on the bench with Miranda, their grandmother, and mother. Elizabeth, Violet, and Amesbury sat behind them.
The ceremony went quickly, at least Mary believed it did. She could barely hear the vicar’s words over the pounding in her ears. Her eyes widened when they said their vows and exchanged rings. Smythe slipped her mother’s delicate gold filigree, diamond, and emerald ring on her finger. Tears blurred her vision as she looked at her mother and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She was rewarded with a rare smile in return.
She slipped a gold band on Smythe’s ring finger that she’d had made at a jewelers on Bond Street the day after the dinner party. After that night she knew Spencer would allow them to wed.
On the carriage ride back to Spencer House Smythe pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. Desire unfurled and spread heat throughout her body. She held onto his lapels, tilted her head, and kissed him with all the love and desire consuming her. He moaned, cupped her face, and deepened the kiss until they broke away breathless and gasping.
She laughed first and he joined her as their foreheads touched. “It’s going to be a long couple of hours before we’re alone,” her new husband said as he brushed her lips with his.
“I know. Is it rude to skip one’s wedding breakfast?” She smiled and muffled a nervous laugh.
“I believe it is. Which brings me to mind that Spencer said Bridgeton had rooms in the south wing prepared for us. He actually said it is far away from any other bed chamber and will be private. I almost choked. And I definitely blushed.”
“Thank goodness, I was worried about tonight. But tomorrow we will travel to Sussex to my...no...our estate and spend a fortnight blessedly alone. Well, alone except for a minimal staff.” She hugged him close. “I can’t wait to show you the property. It is beautiful. I always knew I was going to inherit the estate from my grandmother, but I expected to wait until she passed. I’m shocked she gave it to me, to us, for a wedding present.”
He nuzzled her neck and then moved her to sit on the seat beside him as they approached her cousin’s estate. “To you. Your grandmother gave it to you, but I’m honored that you think of it as ours. I love you.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and curled her arm through his. “You’re welcome. Someday it will belong to our children.”
He squeezed her thigh. “I can’t wait to make babies with you.” He cleared his throat. “I never thought this, being married to you, would ever come to fruition. I thought I would spend the rest of my life thinking and dreaming about you and hating the man lucky enough to win your hand. I have no words to describe how I feel that your family believes me worthy of you. I’m honored and astounded that you are my wife. That we get to spend the rest of our lives together. That I get to show you how much I love you every second, minute, and hour of every day. I’m not convinced I’m worthy of you, but I will try to be that man for you.”
Tears clogged her throat, refusing to let words escape. How had she ever gotten so fortunate to deserve such love from this remarkable, strong, brave, and honorable man—and so much more. Men were afraid of him because of his size, demeanor, and determination to keep the streets of London safe for all. He fought for all classes. And somehow he fell in love with her. “I promise to be the best wife. To support you and try not to worry for your safety when you are working. Your work, keeping the streets safe, is your calling. I’ll love and cherish our babies. And most importantly, I will love you until the end of time.”
“I need a moment before we exit the carriage.” He wiped moisture from his cheeks and cleared his throat. “Your entire family is waiting for us.”
Mary leaned forward and looked out the window. “They are indeed.” Her gloved fingers dried up her tears. “Are we ready?”
He tapped the roof and almost immediately the footman opened the door, lowered the steps. Smythe exited, held out his hand, and helped his bride down to the cheers of her family surrounding them and escorting them inside for the wedding feast. Mary’s insides sang with delight. Never had she felt happier or more loved. She looked forward to Elizabeth and Amesbury’s wedding next month. She wanted her sister to experience the same joy and elation.
The hours spent sitting around the table, eating, toasting with champagne, and listening to all the laughter and joy from her family and friends flew by. Before she knew it she was ascending the elaborate staircase in her cousin’s home, her arm wrapped through her husband’s. Mary’s body hummed with nerves and anticipation. The night before her grandmother, not her mother, had visited her room and given her the marriage bed talk. Mary almost giggled out loud at the absurdity of the conversation. She loved Grandmother, but she was of an age when the less one knew about the marriage bed the better. All she had to say was submit to your husband’s needs. There would be pain, but hopefully only one time. Hopefully? Did she refer to the fact that some husbands beat their wives?
Anyway, over the last several years Elizabeth and she had learned much on their own of what occurred between husband and wife or mistress and protector. Grandmother spoke of several things but told her not to be afraid, it would make it more painful and possibly would anger her husband. Never. Mary would never be afraid of Robert, nor would he be angry with her if s
he was to become frightened from the intimacy of the bed.
“My love, we have arrived at our chambers.” Robert raised their joined hands and kissed her gloved knuckles. “Your maid will arrive momentarily to help you.”
“I’m sorry, I was woolgathering.”
He opened the door and swept her up into his arms before she could protest. Once the door closed behind them, he lowered her to the floor and met her eyes with his compassionate ones. “Are you worried about consummating our marriage?” She loved it when her big, brave husband blushed.
“Only a little. Mostly I’m looking forward to it.” Now her cheeks heated.
“Would you like to go into the dressing room and prepare?”
“How did you know there is a dressing room? You’ve never been in these rooms before.”
The sound of him chuckling eased her nerves. “Spencer gave me a tour earlier to make certain I was agreeable to the rooms. We have a dressing room, complete with bathing area and this lovely bedchamber with sitting room over by the fireplace. I told him it was perfect.”
“It is.” Her eyes wanted to absorb her surroundings. Since being here last—Bridgeton, or more likely Amelia—had had the room done over, but she supposed there would be time to inspect it later. Now she wanted to change into her new night rail Miranda had bought her. Her sister-in-law promised it would have Robert tearing it from her body. Mary hoped that was a good thing.
“I will only need but a few minutes.” Inside the dressing room she went over to the bowl and pitcher and washed up while she waited for Lucy. When she arrived she helped Mary undress down to her chemise, then took out all the pins from her blonde hair and brushed it until it shined. “Your hair looks lovely. Would you like my help changing into your night rail?”
“No, thank you.”
“Good night, Mrs. Smythe, and may I say congratulations on your nuptials.”
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t hard to find the gift from Miranda as it was wrapped in lovely cream tissue paper and ribbon with a note attached that read, “To Mary, may your wedding night be what dreams are made of. Love, Miranda.”
She gently untied the ribbon, tore the tissue and gasped at the most beautiful, soft, and delicate sheer white night rail trimmed in light blue lace, she’d ever witnessed. Hurrying, she took off her chemise and slipped the soft fabric over her head and tied up the pale blue laces which went from the low neckline down to her naval. One glance in the looking glass and Mary gasped. Her hand covered her mouth and her eyes widened. Was that her gazing back at her? She resembled a nymph from a fairytale. A beautiful nymph. Mary knew she was pretty enough, but beautiful? Tonight she looked beautiful and her face heated at the gossamer thin linen that hid nothing from the eyes. Her nipples were rosy and hard. The triangle of dark blonde hair at the apex of her thighs could be seen.
Her brother would be aghast if he knew Miranda gave her this? It was indecent, gorgeous, and oh so pretty. For the first time in her life she felt like a woman. She picked up the tissue, looking for a matching wrapper. Nothing. Did Miranda expect her to face Robert dressed in practically nothing? Evidently. She thought about putting on her own wrapper, but it would spoil the beauty. Besides, hadn’t Miranda said Robert would only rip it off her body anyway. Mary swallowed loudly. That would leave her naked. Only one way to find out. Inhaling and exhaling several times for courage, she exited the dressing room to find her husband standing in front of the hearth, stripped down to his breeches and nothing else. No stockings, boots, or shirt. A tumbler of amber liquid cradled in his hand. She looked her fill before he realized she stood behind him. She hushed her gasp when her eyes fell on what looked like whip marks crisscrossing his back and snaking up his shoulders. Several small round pucker holes, most likely from bullets or knives also marred his back—the two from recently still red and slightly swollen. After taking care of him twice after being attacked on two separate occasions she knew his job to be dangerous, but deadly? Heart pounding, her hand flew to her chest and she whimpered.
He spun around and froze, dropping his now empty glass to the carpet. “Mary.”
Her cheeks engulfed in flames at the raw desire shining from his eyes making her forget about his dangerous job. It took all her self-control not to cover herself. Her body squirmed, wanting so badly to be hidden. But she stood her ground.
“Robert,” Mary said breathlessly as she eyed the front of him. Who knew men’s chests were so beautiful? Hard muscle everywhere. Dark hair dusted his chest and a darker more pronounced line dipped into the top of his breeches. Her throat cleared as she tried not to count the scars marring the front of his body as well. “Robert,” she repeated.
Three large strides and he faced her, his eyes alight with wonder and desire. “You are beautiful. I’m not worthy of you.” His eyes dimmed.
“You are. You are the only man I love or will ever love. You make me feel safe and wanted. You make me laugh and right now I feel things I don’t understand, but I know you do. And you will show me how to love you with my body. My heart and soul already belong to you. Tonight my body will as well. Don’t ever doubt your worth of me.” Mary placed the palm of her hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it. “You are more than worthy.”
His fingers toyed with the ties to her night rail. “This is the most beautiful shift I have ever seen. As lovely as you look in it, it needs to go.”
Their eyes locked, her breath suspended as his large fingers unlaced the front of her night rail. Each and every time his knuckles brushed against her, Mary felt a pull down low. When at last he finished with the ties, he parted the fabric, slipped it off her shoulders and before she could inhale much needed air, it pooled down around her feet, leaving her bare. Her body shivered.
“Are you cold?” he whispered with such concern it warmed her heart. Had anyone ever been so concerned with her comfort before.
“Yes. No.” Mary had no idea what she was. All thought had vacated her mind.
His hands, warm and callused, drew her close and his lips descended on hers. Gently, oh so gently, he kissed her. Mary moaned or was it him? Before she knew it he scoped her up into his arms, strolled to the huge four poster bed, and came down on top of her without ever breaking their kiss. A kiss which had intensified from one second to the next. His tongue swept inside, tangled with hers as they tasted each other. Explored each other’s mouth. He broke the kiss, gasping for air, and proceeded to place barely there kisses up her neck to her ear and across the other side causing her to gasp and clutch his huge shoulders.
Every inch of Mary’s skin wanted to feel every inch of his. As he kissed his way down her chest and swirled his tongue around one nipple then sucked it into his mouth, her hips rose off the bed of their own accord. He controlled her body like a puppet on a string. Little sighs and moans escaped from her throat. He repeated his attentions on her other breast as one of his hands skimmed down her side to her hip and beneath her to cup her bottom. He ground his hips against her, and she gasped at the bulge in his breeches, making her wonder how the large, hard member would fit inside her? And then she blocked it out. Robert would love her and they would fit. He lifted off her and stood beside the bed, his hand going to the packet of his breeches as he stripped them off and dropped back down and continued where he’d left off. Mary was disappointed she didn’t get a good look at him, so she slid her hand down between them and ran her hand up and down his silky, thick shaft, causing Robert to groan and grind into her hand.
As Mary explored, his fingers worked between her thighs, opening her folds, twirling around her nub and then his finger invaded her body and she almost jumped off the bed.
“Easy, love. Let yourself feel. Concentrate on my fingers and what they do to your body. Don’t think, feel.”
Mary did what he said, her hand left his shaft, and she clutched his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin as his fingers played with her sex. Down low in her belly she felt unusual. Every time Robert’s finger slid inside,
her hips bucked and when he pulled out they sank. Moisture covered her down there, and she didn’t have the time to wonder why as he moved farther down her body. His lips placed hot, wet kisses all along her stomach and her hips. Before she knew what was happening he spread her thighs and his mouth descended there. Moans escaped her lips as he swirled his tongue, sucked and tugged on her nub, making her mind scream for more. More of the elusive tingling and feelings she didn’t understand, but craved. “Robert,” Mary moaned as he inserted his finger inside her over and over until she screamed, her hips thrust up, her body trembled and her mind was overcome with understanding these new and wondrous sensations.
Robert moved up her body murmuring, “Beautiful, not worthy, so precious.” His mouth took her in a hard, desperate kiss as his member pushed against her, one, two, three thrusts and she tore her mouth from his and cried out in pain and he froze.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. The pain should ease,” Robert groaned into her ear.
Shocked from the quick, but stabbing pain, Mary reassured her husband. “It’s lessening already.”
His hips moved again, slow and steady at first and the pain did indeed ease. His hand dropped between their bodies, he touched her causing her to gasp and her hips rose up to meet his. Over and over Mary tried to keep with his rhythm as her body reached for that elusive something once again. Faster, Robert thrust fast and deep, his hand caressed her womanhood over and over. Her insides throbbed around his cock, she grabbed his buttocks pulling him tighter against her as she needed...wanted...needed. She screamed as her body exploded at the same time Robert bowed up tight, growled and collapsed down onto her as warmth flooded her insides and her eyes saw millions of vibrant shooting stars.
The Spencer Sisters Forbidden Loves and Broken Hearts Page 11