To Tame a Wicked Widow (Surrey SFS Book 2)

by Nicola Davidson

  “Are you well, lad? The thought of a few hours of merry bedsport doesn’t usually turn clients green at the gills.”

  “Of course,” said Ethan, straightening his shoulders. “Is the chamber ready?”

  Sally gazed at him, her shrewd eyes far too knowing. “Just as you instructed. A lady with her hair covered, wearing a demi mask, in a low lit room…forgive me, but you’ll not forget her this way.”

  He glared at the woman. “Beg pardon? Do you often question the requests of your patrons?”

  “No,” said Sally, unruffled. “But my patrons usually ask for a voluptuous French dancer, or a brawny stable boy or a body decked in nothing but jewels. Occasionally wrists bound, or a special chair to accommodate a trio. Not to hide the identity of the other.”

  “Perhaps anonymity is my fantasy. To bed a stranger and walk away.”

  Her lips quirked. “Perhaps. I’ll take you to the room, then.”

  They left the drawing room and walked up a wide, curved staircase to the second floor. Unlike his father’s overblown tastes, it was elegantly practical, with thick, colorful rugs, cream wallpaper, a few tasteful paintings, and carved mahogany furniture. At last, Sally stopped outside a room at the end of the hallway and unlocked the door.

  By the gods, he was going to cast up his accounts.

  What the hell is wrong? It’s just a fuck. And they will get easier…

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan nodded at his hostess. “The lady is waiting? And willing?”

  “Yes. Should you need anything further, do not hesitate to ring the bell-pull.”

  And with that, Sally curtsied and strolled away.

  Ethan swallowed hard and pushed open the door. After entering the room, he turned and studiously latched it shut behind him, just to buy another few seconds of time and allow his eyes to better adjust to the low light. Aunt Sally had indeed gone to a lot of trouble. The room resembled a desert tent, with muslin curtains draping from the roof, colorful rugs, silver trays of wine and delicacies, and rather than a bed, a very large satin-covered cushion in the center. Draped over the cushion was his lover for the evening. She wore a heavy veil covering her hair, a black demi-mask, and the lush curves of her breasts and hips were barely encased by a sheer linen sheath with one shoulder strap. Gold bracelets adorned her wrists. And yet…

  No. He couldn’t do this, no matter how alluring the woman. Every part of him only wanted Madeline. There had to be a way he could make her see that despite everything, the only man she should marry was him. Had to be. He just had to think better and fight harder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “You are lovely, but…there is someone else I must go to. Someone special.”

  “Oh really?” the woman said huskily, stretching on the cushion like a cat in the sunshine. “That is a shame. I hoped very much to be disciplined in this divinely exotic setting.”

  Confused recognition stilled every part of his body, except for his cock, which turned to stone in an instant. Surely he had to be dreaming. Fantasies didn’t come true.

  “Indeed, madam?” Ethan replied slowly, in an effort to control the sudden wild surge of elation and fierce lust now coursing through him. “Have you been wicked, then?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Very, very wicked.”

  “What did you do?”

  She sat up and removed the mask and veil. “I said some thoughtless things and hurt the man I have come to care for most in the world.”

  “And he didn’t stay and fight?” said Ethan, wrestling against a wave of anger directed entirely at himself. “Perhaps he is a damned bloody fool who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Oh, no. He may be younger, but he is strong and smart and the most wonderful lover I’ve ever had. Without him, I fear I will become quite lost.”

  “Well,” he rasped, humbled at the opportunity of a second chance. Moving forward, he removed his cravat, then his jacket and waistcoat and shirt, shoes and stockings, until he wore nothing but his trousers. Almost lazily, he stroked a hand over the prominent bulge of his erection, carefully unfastening the flap so his cock didn’t succumb to death by strangulation. “If you need him…and, dare I say, to be tamed just a little…”

  A beaming smile lit up her beautiful face. Aphrodite, indeed. “That is exactly what I require.”

  “Then I insist you undress. At once.”

  Madeline shivered, almost tearing the fine linen sheath in her haste to remove it. Seconds later, she lay back down on the cushion, her wrists above her head, and her thighs spread wide. Even in the low light, her nipples were swollen and dusky, the crisp curls between her legs glistening with juices.

  After kneeling down, he forced her thighs wider with his shoulders and cupped her ass to lift her cunt closer to his mouth.

  And greedily began to feast.

  Nothing in the world compared to Ethan pleasuring her.

  Madeline moaned in ecstasy, her fingers gripping the cushion as his talented tongue flicked and lapped and stabbed at her aching pussy. And yet tears of relief burned her eyes, too. She’d not known what to expect when she’d arrived. But Lady Yardley had explained a soiree conversation she’d had with Ethan, and that he’d made certain special requests indicating he didn’t truly want a new lover. Then Madeline had suggested an idea for this room, and Lady Yardley’s wonderfully efficient servants had bustled about to create a sensual desert fantasy.

  When Ethan had entered the room, a moment of paralyzing doubt had struck her. Had Lady Yardley gotten it wrong? Would he be angry to see her and not another woman?

  And then he’d said those wondrous words.

  There is someone else I must go to. Someone special.

  At that moment, forever had seemed possible.

  “Oh God…” she choked out, as he abruptly nipped her inner thigh, before returning to torment her soaked center. She wanted to writhe at the sheer goodness of his dedicated attentions, but he held her thighs in a secure grip, a form of bondage that only made her wetter.

  “So delicious, Madeline. I could lick your cunt for hours. I haven’t decided if I’ll let you come, though. That depends entirely on how sweetly you beg.”

  She whimpered. “Don’t stop. Never stop.”

  Ethan immediately leaned back so just the tip of his tongue touched her clitoris. “Orders, madam?”

  “N-no. Please don’t stop.”

  “Better,” he murmured, trailing a wicked path from her clitoris down to her pussy entrance, delving in briefly, before moving back up again.

  Sensation coiled tightly, and her head thrashed, her cries becoming increasingly desperate as he took her higher and higher but continually halted just before she tumbled over the edge into orgasm. “I…I need…please…”

  “No, you may not come. Not until you explain why you wanted to throw away what we had in Guildford for the sake of money.”

  “I was afraid,” she whispered.

  “Be specific,” he growled, reaching up to pinch her nipples until she squirmed in delight.

  “Of choosing heart over duty. I’ve always chosen d-duty. My father died when I was sixteen…and my mother did not take it well, nor did Mark. Responsibility for matters fell to me. I married Sir Josiah for them. I thought perhaps when Mark married Penelope he might change. Pay his own bills. But he didn’t, and I’ve indulged them b-both far too long. My brother’s behavior colored my thinking about younger men—”

  “I’m not like him.”

  “I know. But my experiences said all young men were reckless with money and fickle in love. That you’d want many paramours before settling down.”

  Ethan frowned, his hands stilling. “Rather arrogant of you to decide my future. And why shouldn’t my first lover be the only one for me?”

  Good grief. If he kept this up, she would become the worst of watering pots.

  Madeline cupped his cheek. “Because I’ve never been enough. My family always scolded me. Sir Josiah did. And your relatives. Thanks to the
m, I am acutely aware of my many flaws. But you didn’t ask for change. So I thought you were too young, too inexperienced to see the real me.”

  “Or perhaps…I just like the real you? That snorty laugh? The red hair? A fiercely sensual bluestocking with a beautiful face and the most luscious curves in England?”

  Several tears rolled down her cheek. “I…ah…well. Hmmm. When you p-put it like that…”

  “I realize I have little to offer right now,” he said gruffly, “but I’ll ask anyway. Marry me, Madeline. Be my viscountess.”

  Pure joy warmed her to the soul. “Far more to offer than you think, my lord. If you are sure…”

  Abruptly Ethan turned her onto her hands and knees and covered her, his brawny chest pressed against her back, his engorged cock nudging her slick pussy. “I am. Now, are you going to say yes, or must I fuck you until you scream it?”

  “Second option,” she gasped.

  “Very well. By the by, if you are agreeable, I would like us to have a child one day.”

  “A son. With amber eyes.”

  He groaned and penetrated her deeply, stretching her wide enough to force a broken cry of delight from her lips. “Perhaps I’d like a red-haired daughter.”

  “Both. We can have b-both,” she promised, barely coherent now as he thrust and withdrew in an exquisite, steady rhythm guaranteed to destroy her wits.

  “Ah, sweetheart, this sounds promising. But I’m afraid I have further conditions.”

  “Such as?”

  Ethan paused, his breathing ragged. “We’ll read and debate and explore. When my finances improve, I’ll show you the world. But…I’m afraid I can’t countenance paying your brother’s bills. He needs to be a man, not a cossetted child.”

  “I know. And I agree. Wholeheartedly. Now, hurry up and come inside me. I’d like those children sooner rather than later.”

  He nipped her neck. “Must I remind you that orders result in discipline?”

  “Spanking?” she asked hopefully.

  “Indeed. Or your wrists bound, your nipples clamped, dildos in your cunt and ass…”

  Oh God.

  Wetness trickled from her pussy at his wicked words, exactly the kind that a wicked widow wanted to hear. But at this moment she desperately needed to climax. “Please, please come inside me.”

  Ethan kissed her shoulder, and with one forceful push was buried deep in her again. “It makes me so fucking hard when you beg. Can you feel how much I need you?”

  Madeline tried to speak, but he pressed a fraction further, and when he reached around to stroke her clitoris, sensation exploded. She screamed into the cushion, her fingernails clawing the satin as her pussy clenched and body bucked with the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. Seconds later Ethan went taut, and his seed gushed inside her even as her name echoed in the chamber.

  For the longest time they lay together on the cushion, gasping for breath. He was a hot and heavy weight on her back, yet she didn’t want him to move, the warmth and connection of his cock inside her while her pussy still pulsed, his arms around her and his face in the crook of her neck far too good. “Mmmm,” she said, utterly content.

  “I’m going to need a minute,” he mumbled. “You drained me dry.”

  Madeline giggled. “I could’ve sworn that wasn’t an issue for younger men.”

  “Minx.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said softly. “One in need of equal parts discipline and affection.”

  “Don’t dissemble. Love.”

  She tensed and shifted her hand so she could twine her fingers with his. “Do you think that is possible?”

  Very gently, Ethan withdrew, then turned her over onto her back. Even in the low light, his expression was grave. “Love is already a certainty, sweetheart. I believe I had an inkling from the day we met, but it only grew over time. The thought of you wedding another…I was crushed when you said you wanted a man of great and varied experience.”

  Heat burned her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have worried so much about our ages. Neither of us can change that. And it really doesn’t matter when everything else is satisfactory.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Satisfactory?”

  Somehow, she nodded. “Well, yes. A long way to paradise yet, my lord. Many, many years of study and exploration.”

  “I see. Best get started, then,” he replied, lowering his head to flick his tongue across her nipple.

  Madeline laughed. “I love you so.”

  He grinned, his gaze at once scalding and tender. “Good.”

  And then his hand slid between her legs, and she couldn’t think at all.

  “I hope no one in the family has a weak heart.”

  Ethan glanced down at Madeline, his lips twitching. “Do you think we should have arranged a physician to be on hand for the grand announcement?”

  A mischievous glint lit her eyes. “They’ll just have to make do with a large brandy and a good snort of hartshorn.”

  “Indeed they will. Now remember, no laughing.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she replied, batting her lashes with such false demureness he almost turned around and hauled her upstairs to bed. Except they had the audience with his family and hers that they needed to get over and done with.

  Taking her arm, he instead led her into the first floor drawing room at Dare House. Already waiting were Madeline’s mother, Mark, Penelope, Faith and Winifred, and the vicar.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said politely, inclining his head. “Thank you for being so prompt.”

  “Of course, Dare,” said Winifred. “We are eager to hear your news. It must be terribly important to gather us all together like this.”

  “Quite. And we’ll hear it much faster when Madeline remembers her manners and takes a seat,” said Faith.

  Penelope sighed audibly. “Do hurry, dear. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but we aren’t under your roof anymore.”

  Ethan smiled. “On the contrary, Mrs. Smythe…” Every single person in the room looked at him in confusion, and his blood fizzed. This was going to bring him a great deal of satisfaction. “You are under Lady Dare’s roof, so I strongly advise keeping a civil tongue in your head.”

  There was a moment of aghast silence, and then began a crescendo of gasps and shrieks that might have grated his last nerve if they weren’t so comical.

  “What?” spluttered Faith. “How?”

  “I’m delighted to confirm that Dare and I were married this morning by special license,” said Madeline sweetly. “Archbishop Manners-Sutton kindly did the honors at Lambeth Palace, witnessed by Lord and Lady Yardley.”

  “A worthy man of the cloth,” said the vicar reluctantly, his beetle brows and pursed lips making him look even more gargoyle than usual.

  Penelope turned pea-green. “How could you, Madeline? Lord Dare has no money! I don’t want to eat pasties…oh, you are so very selfish!”

  His wife’s hand clenched on his sleeve, and Ethan could only admire the restraint it must be taking not to leap forward and snatch the ridiculous woman bald.

  “Enough,” said Madeline firmly. “There’ll be no more hysterics. And no more sending me your bills. The two of you need to make your own way in the world. My husband has generously offered to provide a cottage rent-free, but everything else will be your responsibility. As for you two,” she continued, glaring at Faith and Winifred, “I will tolerate no more insults. Not about my hair or my manners or my history, nothing of which I would change. But I am Viscountess Dare now, and you will accord me every respect due the position.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Ethan, shooting a deadly gaze around the room, just in case anyone thought an argument might be a good idea. But Faith and Winifred were so rigidly still they could be used to decorate a garden. Mark tugged miserably on his intricate cravat, and Penelope frantically fanned herself.

  The vicar frowned. “Marriage can be difficult, my lord, and you are young. Should you need wise counsel in managing a willful wife, do not
hesitate to contact me.”

  Somehow Ethan managed not to roll his eyes. “I consider Lady Dare a woman of strength and character. But if it sets your mind at ease, sir, know that I shall pay careful attention to the material she studies, and I’m sure with children in the nursery and discipline when required, she will be just fine.”

  Next to him, Madeline quivered, and he discreetly jabbed her with his thumb so she didn’t dissolve into laughter and distract the most magnificent acting never performed on stage.

  “Very sensible,” said the vicar, nodding. “As I always say, never spare the rod.”

  “On my honor, I will not,” said Ethan gravely, and Madeline pressed her fingers to her lips and coughed twice.

  Thankfully a knock sounded at the drawing room door, and two footmen carrying trays of champagne marched in. Exactly how great actors like Kean and Siddons managed to stay in character for hours at a time he couldn’t begin to fathom. “Ah, here we go. I’m certain you will all join me in toasting my wife.”

  Once everyone had a glass, he raised his. “To Lady Dare.”

  “Every happiness, Madeline,” called her mother unexpectedly, and he gave the woman an approving smile. Perhaps she might be permitted to visit again. The rest of them could go bathe in the Thames.

  “To Lady Dare,” the others chorused dutifully.

  Turning, he pressed his glass to Madeline’s. “To us.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes bright with barely-suppressed merriment. “To appropriate study material, children in the nursery, and discipline when required.”

  Oh, but she was a minx. One of the many, many things he loved about her.

  “Hmmm,” he said slowly, “you appear a trifle fatigued, my lady. Do you need to retire upstairs?”

  Madeline wilted against him. “I fear I am. Would you escort me?”