Lush and pink, better than he’d imagined. She let out a cry, and he halted to meet her gaze. “A woman can be beautiful in more ways than one.” As he spoke, his hand slid upward. He could not resist.
He leaned forward and stole the most intimate of kisses.
When Lila had set out to get to know the man she’d married a little better, in all her imaginings, she’d not imagined…
This.
One hand on the strap above her, her other searched for purchase on the bench. She’d nearly slid off the seat and her knees dangled over his shoulders. Feeling like something of a voyeur to her own illicit behavior, she drank in the sight of his thick blond hair as he worked between her thighs.
Dora had not even hinted at such… depravity.
The carriage hit a rut and his grip tightened when her hips slid, pressing her harder against his…
Mouth.
“Oh.” She couldn’t stop herself from crying out as the friction of the stubble on his face rubbed against her. And then the warmth of his tongue. The wetness added to her own.
A trembling need was building inside her, the same one she recognized from the night before. Only this time, the pleasure might be absent any pain.
She writhed as he created sensations she could hardly begin to comprehend. What on earth was he doing to insight them? Merely contemplating where his tongue was, that he enjoyed doing something like this, made her want to thrust herself at him harder.
His wanting her made her want him.
“Pemberth!” His name escaped on a gasp.
His hand covered her mouth, stifling her sounds.
“If you make too much noise, Drake will think we want him to stop.” His voice was muffled but she appreciated that he hadn’t paused in his activities.
And now she tasted the salt on his hand. He’d been touching her.
And it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this. By now the jostling of the carriage only heightened each stroke of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers. The world spiraled around her as she gave herself over completely. He could play her. He could dine on her. This need… it had stolen her will in the most unexpected way.
And just as the world shattered, she became vaguely aware of the carriage listing to one side and slowing to a halt.
She slumped onto the bench with closed eyes, uncaring of her modesty or what was going on around them.
“That damned wheel!” Her husband’s voice penetrated her satiated fog, and he drew back, leaving her feeling somewhat bereft all of a sudden.
The carriage. The wheel. A driver and an outrider right outside the door.
“Oh, blast.” She lowered her gown and sat up primly on the bench. Pemberth’s lips were glossy and his face slightly damp.
Feeling rather proud of herself, she handed him a clean cotton handkerchief.
The broken carriage had irritated him, yes, but not so much that he didn’t send her a wicked glance before opening the door and leaping out.
6
A New Home
Pemberth had been correct—the back-left wheel had cracked right through. It wasn’t raining, or snowing, but what with Christmas just a few weeks away, winter was in the air. Lila located a conveniently placed boulder and sat huddled in her coat as the man who’d had his face between her legs a mere thirty minutes earlier lay on his back beneath the worn-out carriage, pounding and twisting at the broken wheel.
Her gaze remained fixed upon the muscles in his thighs and… higher. It was difficult to feel any sort of irritation at their delay after he’d just so recently and thoroughly… prepared her.
“Hand me that wrench, will you?”
Drake stepped forward and placed some sort of tool in Pemberth’s outstretched hand and then peered down to examine his employer’s handiwork. The driver had initially attempted to make the repair, but when he’d proven unsuccessful, Pemberth had not hesitated to crawl under the vehicle himself.
Calvin had ridden Pemberth’s mount ahead, in search of another conveyance in case this one could not be made functional again.
“The other wheel looks like it could go just as easily.” Her husband’s muffled voice carried out from beneath the coach. Lila sighed, remembering how it had felt when that same voice had been muffled by—
“But this ought to do it.” And then he was rolling out, his shirt covered in dirt and his hair looking even wilder than when it had been between her— “But we’ll have to take it slow.”
And then he was off the ground and offering her his hand. “Your carriage awaits.”
Vincent teased her but she also sensed him withdrawing once again. She wasn’t overly concerned this time. As little time as they’d spent together, she was beginning to feel as though she could know him.
He assisted her into the carriage, disappeared, she presumed to make sure they returned all the tools to the boot, and then returned just a few minutes later. She didn’t care that he was sweaty and covered with dust and grime from working beneath the vehicle.
She couldn’t help feeling more physically drawn to him than she had last night. This time, when the carriage began moving, it creaked along very slowly. The slower pace meant they’d be traveling longer but it did, however, cut down on some of the jostling and bouncing.
“Do you think we’ll have to stop again?”
He leaned back, stretching his legs across so that his feet could rest on the backward-facing bench, and closed his eyes. “This length of road is pretty isolated. No inns that I can remember. If Calvin finds anything, we’ll meet him along the way.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Lila couldn’t help asking.
“He’ll meet us at Glenn Abbey.”
He’d said he only inherited three months ago. “Have you lived there all your life?”
He nodded.
“Was your brother married?”
“Nope.”
Oh, they were back to this again. “You said tenants were leaving. Is this a recent phenomenon?”
“Define recent.” Ah, two words from him this time.
“Within the last, say, three months?” She risked souring his mood again, but she was curious about their circumstances.
“Yes.” He shifted then, raised one arm and tugged her so that she laid against him rather than the wall of the coach. “Are you done interrogating me yet?”
“You would do the same.” Although she did not appreciate his arrogant attitude, she did like the feeling of his arm around her, and the solid comfort of his chest and side. “If you were me.”
With him holding her, instead of feeling every rut the carriage drove over, she felt the gentle swell and dip of each breath he took. After riding some distance in silence, he inhaled deeply.
“I am not much of a businessman, as my brother was. We’re already in financial straits, and they fear I won’t be able to pull us out.” A long exhale. “And they’re right to do so. You’re on the bad end of a sorry bargain, Lila Saint-Pierre.”
Lila absorbed his words rather than respond right away. He’d known well enough how to deal with her father. His servants obviously respected him.
He’d fixed the carriage wheel, for heaven’s sake, something she doubted her father or even Lord Blakely ever would have been able to accomplish.
“You seem smart enough to me.” And of course, this only drew silence from him. “Tell me where you feel your intelligence is lacking.”
He groaned.
“You don’t have to if you don’t wish, but I will only keep asking until you do.”
Was that a kiss he’d just pressed atop her head? She couldn’t be certain and glanced up to see if she could read his expression. He met her eyes with a wry smile. “I did not attend university, as my brother did. The reports and accounts perplex me.” He shook his head. “And I cannot hire someone else to handle such matters. They are my direct responsibility.”
Lila raised one hand to his chest and rested it there. “Will there be many parties for me to attend?”<
br />
He stiffened, but she stroked her hand up and down until he seemed to relax again. “No parties to my knowledge. There is a small village nearby, of course. And the ladies in the village head up some sort of charities, as far as I know.”
“I’ve only brought a few books to read. And I’ve never been all that accomplished at any particular musical instrument. When I tried painting my sister in watercolors, she nearly fell over for laughing so hard.”
“Is there a point to this recitation of your ineptitudes? Are you already complaining that you will be bored at—”
“My father is a horrible person. A villain. It’s possible he’s even a murderer.” She’d never been certain of the latter, however. “But one thing my father has always excelled at is the running of his estates. Making money. And whenever he was away, I made it a point to understand his business. If you don’t mind, I’d be more than willing to go over yours.”
He didn’t answer her immediately, but she was learning that this was his way. He thought before he spoke and said only that which was necessary.
“I will think about it.” His voice rumbled under her ears.
She sat up and stared at him curiously. “I would not offer if I was not confident.”
He wiggled his shoulders and shifted on the bench, as though something about her offer discomforted him. “We shall see.”
Lila turned and rested her cheek against him once again. She had more work to do.
He must learn to trust her.
The remainder of the afternoon, they’d pressed on diligently, stopping only twice on the side of the road so Pemberth could check the wheel and so she could stretch her legs.
She had not expected to enjoy getting to know this husband of hers, nor had she expected to feel so comfortable in his protective embrace.
He was a man who’d married her under duress.
Likely, these strange emotions had merely been stirred up by the exquisite sexual gratification he’d given her.
Twice.
Even the thought of that second time had her reaching for her fan.
It was as though her father, a man she’d hated for most of her life, a man she’d feared, had somehow handed her the perfect husband.
Who also made a most comfortable pillow.
Admittedly, he was not much of a talker, but she was gradually learning a little at a time. Feeling truly optimistic for the first time in her life, Lila snuggled deeper into her husband and dozed.
The darkness woke her. And then the cessation of the bouncing and rocking she’d endured over the last few days.
She sat up from the bench she’d taken over completely only a moment before the door swung open and a tired-looking Pemberth peered inside.
“We’re home,” he announced.
Lila gathered her belongings and allowed him to assist her down the step. There wasn’t much to see. It must be the middle of the night, but she could hear ocean waves crashing in the distance.
Most of her life, she’d been told her arrival as duchess would be honored by the servants standing at attention for inspection in lieu of a greeting. She would be wearing a fine gown and the household would be anxious for her arrival.
Her mother had told her all of this anyhow. Her father insisted it was their due.
As she stepped onto the gravel, though, she welcomed the quiet. She was cold and exhausted and only wanted to crawl into a warm bed so that she could fall back asleep.
With a few words to his servants, her husband took her bag from her and led her to the large front door.
The arched doorway was tall, at least three feet taller than her husband even. She tilted her head back and only saw that the stonework reached high into the sky. The tower disappeared in the darkness.
Pemberth steered her forward and, if possible, it seemed even colder inside.
She glanced around in search of a housekeeper, or butler even.
“They’re abed. They’ve too much work to do tomorrow for me to awaken them in the middle of the night.” He seemed to have read her mind.
Lila nodded in understanding, still feeling a little dazed from being awakened in such unfamiliar surroundings.
“Did you ride on the box with Drake?” Calvin had taken his mount.
“Until the sun went down. We took turns walking ahead with a lantern.”
She was coming to realize she appreciated this aspect of her husband. He was not unwilling to do anything he’d ask another to do for him.
But he was also the duke.
And she was the duchess.
They’d shared a bed the night before out of necessity. It had been a good start for them.
Pemberth struck a flint, lit a lantern set on a nearby table, and then gestured with it for her to precede him. As they climbed a narrow and winding staircase to the second floor, she wondered if he was taking her to a separate chamber than his, or if he would wish to keep her with him.
They reached the landing, and he turned to face her. “I haven’t set up in the master’s chamber yet. And yours hasn’t been tended to since my mother’s death, decades ago. If you’d prefer, I suppose we can wake Mrs. Smith to have a guest-chamber made up, but—”
“You are my husband, no? I will share yours.” Sometimes her mouth functioned without her brain telling it to do so. “That is unless—”
“No.” He gave her that almost-smile. She was learning his expressions so much that she recognized it even in the flickering shadows. “I’ve a large bed. I’d prefer to keep my wife with me.”
Despite being practically asleep on her feet, an odd thrill ran down her spine.
They’d share this room for now, but in the back of her mind, she was already making a list of matters she would tend to.
One of the first would be to establish her and her husband in the ducal suites. This man had not completely embraced the title left to him by his brother.
She was the perfect person to help him do just that.
7
Glenn Abbey
Lila had intended to get an early start the next morning but opened her eyes to see the sun already slanting in brightly. Her husband had held her through the night but not made any attempt to repeat what they’d done the night before… or even what he’d done in the carriage.
Lila had to admit she had been grateful for that.
He’d walked a great deal of the remainder of their journey. He must have been exhausted.
She rolled over and examined his chamber with the benefit of the full light of day.
A wardrobe. A desk.
Two windows, both with drapes that must be centuries old.
Sitting up, she dangled her feet over the edge of the tall bed. The carpet looked even older than the drapes.
Personal objects of her husband’s lured her to lower her feet to the floor so that she could examine what he felt necessary, or precious enough, to keep close at hand.
She smiled at the strands of his curling blond hair left behind in a well-used brush. And at the razor and comb he left casually strewn atop his bureau. The thought struck her that he did not keep a valet.
Perhaps another item to add to her list.
Trailing to the desk, she sat down and picked up an unfinished document he’d been writing. Supplies to be purchased. Printed in an almost child-like script. A few other notes that she didn’t understand about sheep in the third quarter… repairs.
She did not open the drawer.
On a small table beside the bed was a small jewel box. Inside, a ring with the same faded crest that had adorned the door of their carriage.
Why did he not wear his ducal ring?
Sounds at the door had her hastily replacing it and turning around.
“Fran!” It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she’d seen her dearest maid and companion. She flew across the room into the older woman’s arms and squeezed her with all her might.
“No tears, then? He has treated you kindly?” Fran stood back and examined he
r closely. “His Grace asked that I did not awaken you, but that I assist you in dressing so that he can show you about the estate.”
“No tears.” Lila sniffed. “And I believe he is a good man.”
So far. Unless her instincts were wrong. He’d been kind.
He’d been more than kind.
He wanted to spend the day with her. Showing her the estate. Her new home! He was not going to turn back into the sullen stranger she married.
“There’s a room across the way where he told me to unpack your belongings. What kind of duke is he, that he doesn’t have a proper chamber for his bride? Anyhow, come along with me, dearie, and I’ll get you prepared for the day. You look as though a rat has been sleeping in your hair.” Lila followed the energetic woman across the hall into the other room.
“We’ve a good deal of work to do,” she told her cheerfully.
And for one of the first times in her life, she felt she might have something to offer this world.
“Come in.” Vincent barely glanced up from the journal of transactions as he bid Calvin to enter.
Only it wasn’t Calvin.
The first day, his wedding day, his wife had deliberately chosen unflattering garments in some rebellious gesture against her father or him or both of them. The second morning, his wife had dressed without the assistance of her maid.
Today, she appeared every inch a duchess.
So much so that he wondered how on earth he was going to manage to keep her satisfied. Two people could not spend all of their time in the bedchamber, after all.
She wore her silken strands of coffee-colored hair in a braided coronet wound about the top of her head. Her skin glowed and the vibrant azure gown she’d chosen matched her eyes almost perfectly.
Vincent awkwardly pushed back his chair so that he could rise. “Your Grace,” he addressed her.
A secret light danced behind those eyes. Ah, she might look the duchess, but this was the same woman he’d had writhing and bucking beneath his mouth the day before.
Hell's Wedding Bells: (Novella) (Devilish Debutantes Book 7) Page 5