Stone rubbed the back of his neck. Banns? That meant waiting three weeks. “Rather like closing the barn doors after the horses are out, don’t you think? I was thinking more along the lines of a special license.”
“Ha!” Westerley shot him a look. “Not likely. Accept it, Spencer, you have at least three weeks of socializing and kowtowing before our mothers allow you to settle into wedded bliss.”
Stone tore the long stem of grass he’d been holding in half. “Unless I choose to be difficult.”
Westerley shot him a narrowed glance. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly, now would it?”
“Although I could perhaps be cooperative,” Stone went on as though Westerly hadn’t spoken. “If allowed a few hours alone with my wife. In order to ascertain her wishes—"
“Your betrothed,” Westerley interrupted. “With your betrothed.”
“Meddlesome detail.” Stone waved a hand through the air.
He then gestured toward Tabetha’s maid, who had nodded off in the shade of a tree not ten yards away. “The maid’s presence ought to be sufficient.”
Westerley broke the stem in his hands as well, apparently contemplating the merits of Stone’s proposal.
“Very well.” He sighed, pushing to his feet. “But I’ll expect your full cooperation henceforth.”
“Of course.”
Gently sliding out from beneath Tabetha, Stone rose along with his friend, strolled across to the carriage to ensure the villains remained properly restrained, and then bid Westerley farewell.
When he returned to the shaded tree, Tabetha was sitting up and looking adorably sleepy. “Where is he going?”
“He’s going to meet up with the others to let them know you are safe. They likely won’t catch up for at least a few hours.” Stone dropped onto the blanket beside her and opened his arms. “Come here.”
“I didn’t dream it then?” She burrowed into him, her soft curves reminding him how much he’d missed sleeping beside her. She fit him perfectly.
“You did not dream it. Did I?”
“No.” She laughed.
“Trouble is,” he began, playing with one of her curls, “we are going to have to delay living as husband and wife again until after another wedding. Your brother says we’ll have to have banns read, and that means three weeks.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head back to stare up at him. “But…” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “That means we’ll have to wait… Three whole weeks?” As she realized what that meant, she appeared as appalled as he was.
Stone touched her chin. “But we have right now. Am I a cad for wanting to take full advantage of your brother’s absence?”
The dark center of her eyes grew large and her lips parted. She slowly shook her head from side to side.
“What did you have in mind?” Her breath sounded huskier than it had a moment before, and the tips of her breast pebbled beneath her night rail.
“Making love to my wife, Tabetha Spencer, knowing there are no more falsehoods between the two of us.”
“I don’t deserve you.” She blinked. “I’ve been horrid to you all spring. You were only honoring your word to my brother. How can you love me?”
“Westerley released me from my promise the day he arrived in London.”
“But that was weeks ago!”
He shrugged. The truth was… “It gave me an excuse to be with you.”
Her mouth dropped open, and a startled sigh escaped her lips.
“Oh.” Her eyes were wide with… wonder?
“It didn’t make sense. Loving you. You made it crystal clear you didn’t want anything to do with me, but that didn’t change how I felt.”
“But I annoyed you.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a smirk. “In a thousand ways.”
Stone gently laid her onto the blanket again and bent down to kiss the tender skin on her shoulder. “The more you provoked me, the harder it was to keep away from you.”
“I provoked you to no end,” she admitted.
“Case in point.” He opened his mouth and trailed it to the slope of her neck.
“Oh, Stone,” she moaned.
“Nothing feels as right as loving you, and I doubt anything ever will.” Stone cradled her face in his hands. She needed to know everything. “When I’m inside of you… It’s as though the secrets of the universe are in my grasp. You are my why, my how… You are the last person I think of when I fall asleep and the first thought in my mind when I wake up. And in between, I imagine your scent on me. I picture you growing large with my child.”
She grasped the sides of his head and dragged his mouth to hers. A thousand minutes passed before either came up for air.
“I always feel safe knowing you are protecting me,” she whispered breathlessly.
“I didn’t protect you last night.”
“But I knew you would come. I never doubted you would save me.” She touched his chin, staring into his eyes. “And you did.”
“Thank God.”
“All the while I provoked you, I was doing my best to convince myself you weren’t the one. And then you’d go and do something incredible. Like trying to teach me to protect myself or throw me onto a horse and beat up dozens of villains without so much as blinking.”
“I am not a duke or even a lord,” Stone reminded her grimly, but she was already shaking her head.
“You said that when you are inside of me, you know the secrets of the universe?”
“Are you mocking my attempts at poetry?” He tried to joke at his own sentimentality, but she stared at him intently.
“When you are touching me, I feel worshipped. Having you inside of me, all of your strength, all of your person, trembling in my arms, I might as well have been crowned queen.”
She brushed his hair away from his face. “I love the way this piece of hair constantly hangs along your jaw. Do you realize that even unshaven and wearing traveling clothes, you still manage to look incredibly handsome? This…” She plucked at his shirt. “Looks better on you than the most expensive tailored clothing looks on any other man.”
“I’ll wear tailored clothing for you.”
“And I’ll wear nothing for you.” She grinned. “But we need to be quiet or we’ll wake up Emily.”
“I love you, Mrs. Spencer.” Stone kissed her again. “And we’re running out of time.”
Unwilling to waste even another minute, he trailed his mouth between her breasts, gathering her skirts in his fist as he did so. She parted her knees, and he settled himself between her legs.
“Then love me now, Mister Spencer.” She arched her back, her hands fumbling at the fasteners of his trousers.
“As you wish.” He found his way home. “And with all my heart.”
Epilogue
Two Weeks and Six Days Later
Tabetha stared into the looking glass on her vanity, candlelight flickering behind her, and inhaled a slow breath. The last three weeks had been the longest three weeks of her life. Not that she didn’t enjoy planning parties and decorations and being fit for an entirely new wardrobe—one that was far more colorful and stylish than the one her mother had made up for her earlier this spring, one that was not intended for a debutante but for a newly married lady.
In fact, to be perfectly honest, she’d relished in all of that.
But she had not relished having her mother’s secretary, the most determined Mrs. Crabtree, chaperone her everywhere.
Good lord, the woman had even followed her to the retiring room.
Her betrothed had only managed to get her alone long enough to kiss her senseless five times. Crabtree was never far off. Each time they’d been interrupted, Tabetha had been left feeling frustrated and achy.
Had Stone had an easier time of it? She imagined how he had no doubt alleviated his frustrations and the thought had her squeezing her thighs together.
One more night.
She glanced at the bed, knowing one more night of tossing and t
urning awaited her.
Cursed Crabtree!
Even tonight, the night of their prewedding ball, the woman had trailed her worse than Stone ever had.
Although he had managed a single kiss—a single toe-curling, hair-raising, most frustrating kiss.
Tabetha untied the knot of her braid and dragged her brush through the long strands again. She’d sent Emily away for the night, feeling excited, scared, and happy but also a little melancholy.
Even Archie had abandoned her tonight, for her mother of all people!
She had to admit that everything had been beautiful. Her mother had made certain the ball was a most memorable event, sparing nothing as far as flowers, food, and champagne. Not even Rachel Somerset’s disparaging comments about the groom’s lack of title had bothered her.
How could they, when jealousy laced the supposed insult?
And Stone--who had appeared even more handsome than usual, in his black jacket, pristine white linen shirt, perfectly tied cravat, and maroon waistcoat—was hers.
Or he would be by this time tomorrow.
A tapping sound came from the window, and she jumped. Was it raining? But then another, louder one, and another.
Definitely not rain.
She rushed across the room and pulled back the curtain, a thrill zinging from the top of her head all the way to her toes. Was he trying to kill himself? Her room was three stories up!
Terrified but also secretly thrilled, she threw the window open. “You idiot! If you fall, I’ll never forgive you.”
Stone shushed her and heaved himself through the opening head first, performing a graceful somersault that resulted in him sitting on her floor. He’d maneuvered the stunt with far more grace and dignity than any person had a right to.
“Miss me?” A cocky grin danced on his lips.
“What are you doing here?” She helped him up and moved comfortably into his arms.
“It’s beautiful.” He was running his hand through her hair, which she’d not had a chance to weave into another braid. “Spun gold.”
“You’re in my chamber,” she announced, still startled at his sudden appearance but also excited and happy—always happy just to be with him. “And we’re alone!”
“We are.” His face was buried in her hair now. “This is killing me. God, I’ve missed you. Tell me to leave and I will, but I—”
“Stay.” Tabetha wound her arms around his neck even tighter. “This three weeks was never about us. It’s always been about everyone else. I’ve missed my husband horribly.”
“You feel so good.” He lifted her at the same time she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he walked them toward the bed.
“Lock the door first,” she murmured in his ear. “We don’t want Crabtree barging in here.”
“Oh, hell no.” He changed direction, crossed to the door, and slid the locks into place. It reminded her of how concerned he’d been for her safety when they’d been staying at the Tartan Scarf.
“I was jealous of you tonight,” she admitted when he lowered her onto the bed.
“Of me?”
“I imagined you… relieving yourself of your frustrations. It’s not fair.”
His brows rose. “You mean that you have not…?”
Tabetha’s fingertips twitched. She had thought about it. She’d come very close. “You… wouldn’t mind having such a wicked wife?”
“Quite the contrary.”
“But you are here now. So that won’t be necessary.”
Stone climbed onto the bed beside her. He’d changed out of his evening finery and was wearing her favorite of all his clothes. The ones he’d worn to Gretna and which would always remind her of when he was Rock Chester.
“Why is that you are always dressed, and I am always in some sort of nightclothes?” she teased as her fingers worked at the fasteners on his trousers.
“Dumb luck?” He grinned, tugging at his shirt and then deftly pulling it over his head.
Tabetha’s gaze devoured his chest. How was it possible she’d forgotten how beautiful he was?
“Show me what you would do if I hadn’t come.” His voice was little more than a rasp.
Of course, she had become aroused watching him touch himself, why wouldn’t it be the same for him? But… could she?
The excitement blazing in his gorgeous blue eyes, almost black in the candlelight, was all the reassurance she needed.
“I might have…” Tabetha raised a hand to her breast, drawing lazy circles over the fabric of her gown. The sensation nearly had her begging him to cover the tender flesh with his mouth. “I’d imagine you were sucking and grazing your teeth over me.”
His breath hitched, and she noticed his hands clenched at his sides. “You have an excellent imagination.”
Tabetha bit back a smirk. How long before his control snapped?
She reached over her head and unbuttoned the lace at the back of her gown. One subtle shimmy of her shoulders and the sleeves fell down her arms, exposing her cleavage. With one last nudge, she revealed two pink nipples, which all but stood at attention, begging for his touch.
Three weeks had passed since they’d been together. Three long, torturous weeks. A quiver danced across her skin.
“Like this?” Stone leaned forward. He’d shaved his beard again when they returned to London so rather than scruff, he tormented her with his skin, barely covered by a hint of stubble.
“Yes.” She exhaled. Each tug he made with his mouth increased the tension building in her womb and between her legs.
“And then what would you do?”
Closing her eyes, she lifted her knees, drawing up her gown, and grazed her fingertips along the delicate skin between her thighs.
“Such a tease,” he said. “Like this.” His hand covered hers.
It was surprisingly intimate, almost more intimate than the act of lovemaking itself, his hand showing her where to touch, guiding her fingers where he’d put his own.
“Oh,” she moaned. “Stone.”
“You like this?” He wiggled his finger over hers.
“Right here.” She showed him what she wanted.
“Like this?”
“Yes.” The white lights exploded when that sharp knot of pleasure slipped loose. “Yes.”
All the while he was kissing her and whispering words of love.
“I need inside you.” He’d worked himself free, and Tabetha placed his tip at her entrance.
“Need you.” The tension was building again. “So much.”
“Love you.” He moved in and then out again, filling her, touching her, loving her. “Love you.”
Tabetha lay beside her husband afterward, smiling and feeling better than she had since they’d arrived back in London. “Do you think anyone will be able to tell?”
“That I’ve stolen my bride’s virtue?” Stone tucked her in beside him. “Again?”
He chuckled but then both of them fell silent. Tomorrow they would marry, and then they would embark on their life together.
They were going to travel to Dover where they would spend a brief honeymoon, and then around to Brighton, to make a quick visit to his younger brother Peter, who wasn’t able to make it to the wedding.
Following that, the two of them would travel to Stone’s estate, where he intended to make repairs while she made decorating decisions.
He’d been concerned that she would be bored but she’d spent most of her life in the country, and she’d assured him she was excited to see their new home.
“I think my mother has finally forgiven us,” she said. “Or me rather.” Apparently, marrying a Mister wasn’t such a terrible thing after all—especially when he was wealthier than nine-tenths of the titled gentleman of the ton.
Not that it had mattered one whit to Tabetha, but the revelation had impressed her mother. Stone accepted what had remained of her dowry, only on the condition that all funds would be placed in trust for her and their children. He was the second son of an
earl, but that particular earl was, in fact, more powerful and well off than most dukes and all other earls put together.
Because the Earl of Ravensdale, rather than squander his rents and resting on his laurels, had invested and made improvements with the help of his two eldest sons.
All of which was… nice. Of course, it was nice not to have to worry about funds. But Tabetha knew she didn’t need all of that to be happy.
“What are you thinking?” Stone asked into the darkness beside her.
“I’m wondering what name you’ll put on our new wedding certificate.”
He groaned. “I thought you might not remember that.”
“Hedwig Buckley Spencer…” She giggled. “Or Rock Chester? Or Mr. Stone Spencer?”
In a move so fast she lost her breath, Stone flipped her onto her back and pinned her to the bed with his body.
“Whatever name you want, love.” He covered her mouth with his. “Just as long as yours is the name beside it.”
*** THE END***
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Cocky Mister Page 23