To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  With a groan of surrender, he at last thrust, fully sinking his thick shaft deep into her slick, tight passage.

  Her squeak of momentary displeasure was quickly transformed into a sigh of contentment as the empty place within her was filled by his heat and hardness. Every throbbing inch of him was buried inside her, and it was the most fulfilling sensation she’d ever experienced. Holding him there, she savored a sudden feeling of fierce ownership.

  He was hers. All of her fears were meaningless while she held him thus. If she was doomed to suffer heartbreak in the years to come, she would at least have this moment.

  And there would be the children and their home to care for. Mama had done it. She had survived.

  So will I…

  When he moved again, such thoughts were lost as the friction sent little ripples of mild pain mingled with intense pleasure radiating outward from her core. Slowly, he pulled back, and she felt the tide withdraw. As he sank into her once more, pleasure again flooded over her like an ocean wave, and she cried out as the delicious fullness returned.

  Such tight, wet heat! Henry sweated with the effort to restrain himself, to stave off the inevitable explosion as he sank into her depths again and again. Her pleasure was like a drug, increasing his own enjoyment beyond anything he’d ever known. He forced himself to hold back, waiting.

  At last she shuddered, her head rocking back, lashes fluttering, lips parting in a soundless cry as her sheath tightened around him in a series of sweet, powerful spasms.

  With a strangled shout, he withdrew almost fully, and then sank back into her heat, gripped by shockwaves of ecstasy as his seed rushed into her welcoming embrace. Afraid of hurting her, he sought to withdraw almost immediately, but Sabrina, still in the throes of her pleasure, would have none of it.

  Slipping his hand between them, he gently stroked the place where their flesh was joined, prolonging her bliss. She cried out hoarsely as her passage convulsed around him once more. To his great astonishment, he felt another corresponding pull deep within his loins an instant before the unmitigated joy of release took him once more.

  Breathless, vision blurring and arms trembling, he rolled over and lay back, pulling her atop him.

  The sun was a good deal lower in the sky when he awoke.

  Bloody hell. They had less than three hours before nightfall. Looking down at the woman nestled at his side, fast asleep, he knew it had been worth the delay.

  Gently, he shook her, caressing the strands of fiery hair away from her beloved face. Faint violet crescents lay beneath her eyes; she must be exhausted. “Come, we must hurry,” he whispered as she stirred. “With any luck, we can cross the border before midnight. Once we’re married, we’ll ride to Brampton and stay there until dawn.”

  “Why not just stay at Gretna Green?” she asked wearily, eyeing her horse with ambivalence as she sat up.

  Guilt pricked him, along with sympathy. He was sick of riding, too. The beasts had no ill intent toward their aching backsides and bruised thighs, but knowing this didn’t make the thought of remounting the animals any more appealing. “We dare not. Once Fairford discovers my little deception, he might ride through the night to try and overtake us. I know you’re tired, but we have to get there quickly, marry, and then immediately head east.”

  “But why run after we’re married?” she asked. “It isn’t as if he can protest. We’ve already—” She blushed furiously and looked at her toes. “There’s nothing for him to pursue now.”

  “Except revenge,” he muttered. “His pride has been sorely pricked, Sabrina. And if he is capable of murder, then there is no knowing what he might do should he catch us out here. It’s too big a risk. Once we’re in London, he’ll think twice before making any foolish attempts.”

  Rummaging around in the saddlebag, he passed her a hunk of bread and broke off a piece of cheese to follow it. “Here, have a bite. I’ll open the wine. Water is good for quenching thirst, but this might make the ache in your muscles easier to forget.”

  “I cannot wait to get back to London,” she said, making a sour face as she took a bite of bread, chasing it with a swallow of warm wine.

  “What happened to your sense of adventure?” he chuckled. “Where is the woman who ran off in the night, not once but twice? Come! You can rest all you like on the journey to Brighton. There’s not much to do on a boat except dream, feel the wind, and watch the waves.”

  Grumbling under her breath, she finished the light repast and, with his help, again mounted the horse.

  OVER THE LOW hills they traveled, alternating between a canter and a trot, crossing the occasional stream, passing the greater town of Carlisle, and avoiding the tiny settlements nestled in the sheltered areas beyond it. When they entered the Eden’s floodplain, the ground grew flat, enabling them to quicken their pace.

  The wind picked up, and Sabrina caught a hint of salt tang on the breeze.

  “Not far now,” Henry told her, coming alongside. “See those lights there in the distance? That’s the main village. When we arrive, let me do the talking.”

  In spite of her exhaustion, her tired body experienced a peculiar jolt of nervous energy. In approximately an hour, she would be Lady Montgomery.

  As much as she’d fought against this, she could not help feeling joy at the sight of the village ahead.

  Gretna was an average village, looking no different than the ones they’d passed along the way. Henry led them past houses, entering the tiny marketplace. An elderly man outside a tavern pointed with a knobbly finger when asked for directions to the nearest kirk. As they trotted away, he called out: “Guid luck, laddie! You’ll need it, wi’ tha’ red hair o’ hers!”

  Finally, they drew near the church and dismounted. Warm, welcoming light shone from its windows.

  Henry held her hand tight, warming her cold fingers as he led her to the gate and up the steps to the heavy wooden door. Taking out his purse, he knocked.

  In a few moments the door opened to reveal a friendly, curious face. The clergyman took them in at a glance, and a smile creased his lips. “Coom tae marry, hae ye? Ma apologies if ye’ve coom a long way, but it’ll hae tae wait ’til mornin’.” He made to close the door.

  “And if I were to make a generous donation in addition to the usual fee?” Henry quickly asked, jingling his purse for emphasis. “It is imperative that we marry immediately, and I want a legitimate ceremony before God, not a handfasting.”

  The clergyman paused at the jingling noise of the coins in the pouch. Flinging the door wide, he bade them enter, taking the proffered payment as they crossed the threshold. “There be hungry mouths tae feed in this parish. Far be it from this lowly servant of God tae deny His divine providence. Wait here. I’ll need tae gather witnesses.”

  “Is there a place where I may change my clothes?” Sabrina requested timidly. Henry had managed to procure a comb and a serviceable gown along the way for her to wear at their upcoming nuptials. It wasn’t a Madame de Salle creation, but it was clean and had looked as if it would fit well enough.

  Flushing beet red, the little man turned and pointed at a door to the side of the vestibule before scurrying away.

  Ducking into the tiny little antechamber, she quickly removed her travel-stained clothing. Smoothing the wrinkles out of the gown, she donned it, struggling to tie the ribbons on the bodice with shaking fingers. When the last was finally secure, she stood. A bit snug in the bosom and a bit loose in the waist, but it was at least clean.

  There was no mirror in which to check her appearance, but if the long, ragged braid hanging over her shoulder was any indication, she must look a complete fright. Trying in vain to smooth down the loose wisps at her temples, she jumped in alarm at the gentle tap on the door.

  “M’lady? May I coom in?”

  Settling her frayed nerves, Sabrina opened it. A sweet-faced woman of some fifty years greeted her with a kind smile.

  “I’m Eleanor,” she whispered. “I’m told ye’re tae be marri
ed?”

  “Yes. But I’m afraid I don’t look very much like a bride,” Sabrina laughed, trying again to smooth down her wayward hair. “We’ve been riding for days.”

  “Here, let me help.” Stepping inside, the woman reached into an apron pocket, withdrew a brush and comb, and set to work combing and plaiting Sabrina’s tresses.

  Tears sprang into Sabrina’s eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured thickly.

  “Now, now, lass. No tears! I hope ’tis happiness tha’ brings ye tae Gretna?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” Sabrina affirmed, mopping at her eyes.

  “Ye’re in love, then?” said Eleanor as she wound the long braid into a small coronet, leaving the remainder to hang down her back.

  “I am,” she finally admitted, smiling damply. It felt good to say it, even to a complete stranger. Peace settled over her heart and her nerves calmed. She would no longer deny her feelings for Henry. Mama had been right. Her heart had been in his possession for a long time, and she had not even realized it.

  Whipping out a slender length of pale-blue ribbon, Eleanor tied off the braid. “Somethin’ blue,” she whispered with a wink. Another foray into her apron pocket brought forth a small cluster of tiny white flowers. Carefully, she tucked them into the coronet. “There! Ye’re as bonny as any princess! Are ye ready?”

  Nodding happily, Sabrina rose. On impulse, she turned and hugged Eleanor. “Thank you again for your kindness.”

  Eleanor blushed. “’Twas my pleasure, an’ I wish ye joy.”

  Together they walked to the front of the church, where Henry stood waiting with the minister and another man who’d obviously just been pulled from his bed.

  THE BREATH IN Henry’s lungs stilled when he saw Sabrina’s face. Gone was the pale, tired, pinched look, replaced by a soft radiance. Her bright eyes held his gaze steadily, and her blushing smile struck him with the light of a thousand sunrises.

  No silk wedding gown covered in pearls and lace. No glitter of gold and jewels. No bishop, no choir, no illustrious company of guests lining the aisle. His bride wore the humble dress of a villager, right down to the worn boots, yet no expensive finery could have made her more beautiful. He held out his hand, distantly noting how it trembled in time with the thundering in his chest as the ceremony began.

  A few minutes later, Henry gently kissed his bride. The witnesses signed the testimony, the officiating clergyman put his seal upon the parchment, and it was done. Sabrina was now his in every respect.

  They did not tarry to celebrate, but immediately set out south toward the docks of Solway Firth. When the lamps and windows of the village were no more than dim pinpricks of light in the distance, Henry turned them in a long, slow arc north, back toward English soil.

  Crossing the River Esk to the southeast of tiny, slumbering Longtown, they made for Brampton. For two and a half hours they rode in silence, carefully avoiding settlements along the way, until at long last they reached their destination.

  Though he’d seen nothing, every instinct told him they were being pursued. He hated the idea of stopping, but they could not continue on. Sabrina looked half ready to fall off her horse, though she had not uttered a single word of complaint.

  He could put her on his horse and they could ride double for a few more hours, but he was just as weary. He prayed his ruse had fooled Fairford.

  Bathed in the light of the setting moon, he led them quietly down to the inn, if it could even be called such—it was really only a large house. The windows appeared dark at first, but as they approached, a faint, red glow crept from between the shutters. He hoped there was room for them here. If not, they would have no choice but to continue to the next village or beg lodging at one of the nearby cottages, a dim prospect at this hour.

  Rather than knock and risk waking everyone sleeping inside, he eased the door open and peered into the gloom. A man sat near the hearth, feet propped up, head on his chest, snoring gently.

  Henry cleared his throat softly, and the man awakened with a startled grunt, quickly reaching down to grasp the wooden club lying across his lap.

  “Peace, friend. My wife and I only wish to stay the night,” Henry said quietly, drawing Sabrina into the room.

  The man squinted in the dim light, relaxing a little when he saw her. “You have money?”

  “Enough to buy a night’s rest and some food, yes.”

  “I’ve one room left. You have horses?”

  “Yes, tied just outside.”

  “I’ll show you to your room and then care for your beasts. It’s late, but there should still be food enough for both you and them. I’ll just have the payment now, if you please.” He held out one hand expectantly, while his other tightened on the cudgel.

  Henry eased back his cloak to reach his purse, purposely revealing the gold buttons and costly trim of his rumpled, but still elegant, jacket. The innkeeper’s eyes widened farther as the jeweled hilt of his sword glinted in the firelight.

  The cudgel lowered.

  “Londoners,” said the man a bit more amiably as he received the coins. His eye fell again on Sabrina and he chuckled. “Fresh from the Green, is it?” Then his brows puckered in confusion. “We don’t get many of you lot through here. Begging your pardon, m’lord, but shouldn’t you be heading south instead of east? Are you lost, then?”

  Henry remained silent and held up an additional coin.

  The proprietor took the money and turned. “This way, m’lord.”

  “I expect my additional fee to include your continued silence, as well as that of your staff, should anyone come asking questions,” Henry said softly, allowing just a slight touch of menace to enter his tone.

  “Of course, my lord. I’ll send someone up straightaway to light the fire and bring bedding and whatever food I can find.”

  “And hot water, enough for us both to wash,” Sabrina chimed in softly. “With soap, if you have it, and some drying sheets.”

  “Of course, m’lady. At once.” The innkeeper bobbed and went to do his bidding.

  The fact that it was the middle of the night mattered not, Henry knew. They could have asked for the moon and the man would gladly try to reach it, for he’d just likely paid him more than he earned in a solid month with no vacancies.

  It felt so good to be without a horse beneath her rump! The remains of their makeshift dinner had just been removed, and a small tub of hot water stood near the hearth, which now blazed merrily.

  Sabrina unabashedly stripped off her borrowed clothes and washed from the neck down, blushing furiously when she realized Henry was intently watching her every move.

  “I’ve seen all of you already, you know,” her new husband murmured.

  Her cheeks heated further as she wrapped the sheet around her. “Yes, but things are…different now.”

  “I don’t see how they could be,” he said, grinning as he came to take his turn. “Did you really think things would change between us the instant the vows were spoken?”

  That was exactly what she’d thought. “I thought they might after…after…”

  “Such preposterous ideas, Pest,” he chuckled. “When will you understand that I meant every word I said when I promised to love you forever?” When she did not answer, he bent and kissed her gently. “I will teach you to trust in my love even if it takes the rest of my life.” With that, he gave her his back, peeled off his clothes, and stepped into the shallow wooden tub to begin washing himself.

  Even as his words stirred up a tender clamor in her heart, a pang of desire stabbed deep into her vitals at the sight of his unclothed form. He was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. Firelight flickered across his taut skin, painting it red-gold, spangling it with bright amber droplets as the water trickled down his muscled back. Her fingers itched to feel the rippling bunch and pull of the sinew beneath.

  The instant she touched him, he stilled.

  She flinched in panic, pulling back as if burned. Brazen behavior might be expected from a lover, but it
was surely unacceptable in a wife. She needed a legitimate reason for having touched him. Spying the washing cloth, she grabbed it and began scrubbing between his shoulder blades.

  “I’ve a bit of the road on me, but I’m not a dirty pot to be scoured,” he said after a moment.

  Though too embarrassed to speak, she answered by gentling her touch. Gradually, her inhibitions drained away. Soon, the cloth was forgotten, and her bare palms slid once more over his broad shoulders and trailed down his long spine.

  Slowly, he turned to face her.

  Sabrina paused in her ministrations, staring at his broad chest. His was the body of a laborer or a warrior, not a soft aristocrat. She marveled at the clearly defined muscles, the hard, ridged stomach. A few old scars marred his flesh, mostly fencing nicks, but there was one long, faded weal across his ribs that looked a bit more serious.

  Briefly, she wondered how he’d earned such a ghastly memento. Before she could think to ask, however, her eyes were drawn to the trail of dark curls beginning just below his navel. Curiosity led her gaze downward to the dark thicket from which proudly sprang his manhood.

  A mighty weapon, to be sure.

  Had she not already known the bliss it could bring, fear might have overcome her, but the memory of that afternoon’s pleasure allowed no such trepidation. With a single, tentative finger, she gently circled its soft, plum-colored rim. His member leaped at her touch, seeming to have a life of its own. A giggle escaped before she could stop it, and she looked up sheepishly.

  “I am finding it incredibly difficult to remember you were a virgin earlier this day,” he said, his violet eyes filled with mischievous warning.

  Still, he allowed her to explore, and she took her time, well aware that she was tormenting him. The smile that crept over her lips as all of his muscles tightened, as his breath caught, was irrepressible. Dipping into the clean water bucket, she doused him from the neck down, rinsing away the soap. Stepping back, she unfolded a drying sheet and shook it.