His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)

by Rose Gordon

  “Regina?” Edward said quietly. “Are you ready to go to your new home now?”

  “Of course,” she said on a shaky breath, then turned and met his eyes.

  He offered her his arm. “Let's be off, then.”

  ~Chapter Four~

  The ride to Watson Estate was expected to last about six hours, and fortunately, the time passed quickly enough. But then again, since Regina's exhaustion from lack of sleep the past few days led her to fall into a sleep that rivaled a coma only thirty minutes into the ride, she didn't really know how long it took.

  “We're here,” Edward said, giving her arm a slight squeeze.

  Regina's eyes fluttered open, and she held still a moment to let them get accustomed to her dimly lit surroundings. She moved her right hand from where she'd had it balled up in her lap down to the space next to her to help push herself off the hard surface she'd been reclining against.

  “Ooof,” Edward said, encircling her wrist. “Be careful where you shove, darling.”

  Heat flooded Regina's face. “Forgive me. I didn't mean...”

  “I know.” He helped her into a sitting position then wrapped his arms around her. With a gentleness she'd have never guessed a man like him would possess, he lifted her up and descended the carriage.

  Outside the carriage was scarcely brighter than the inside had been with only the moon illuminating Edward's path in the darkness.

  As they reached the house, Edward whispered a few words to a waiting servant. But Regina didn't hear his command, nor did she care. The steady pounding of his heart against her ear was all she cared about at the moment.

  A few minutes later, Edward's strong arms lowered her against a plush feather surface. She opened her eyes and looked from her husband to the woman dressed in a tan dress standing against the wall.

  “Regina, I'd like to introduce you to Georgie. She's to be your lady's maid.”

  Regina swallowed. She'd never actually had a lady's maid before. Father liked to appear wealthy to the public, but within his home, he kept things to a minimum. For this reason, the same maid who cleaned the parlor had also helped Regina and Aunt Florence dress when they required it. “It's very nice to meet you.”

  Edward reached up toward his hair, stopping when his fingers met the wig he still wore. He lowered his hand and nonchalantly wiped the powder from his fingers on his breeches. “I'll leave the two of you to it, then.”

  Regina hid her smile at the nervousness she'd detected in his voice. He couldn't be much older than she, two years at most, putting him around twenty, young enough to still be shy and awkward around ladies, but still proud enough not to want it to show. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to ask if he planned to return, but when she remembered Georgie was still in the room, she decided against it.

  “Don't worry, my lady. He'll be back.”

  Regina's eyes widened in surprise. “P-pardon?”

  Her maid laughed. “Let's get you changed for his arrival, shall we, my lady?”

  Blessedly, Georgie didn't comment on her blush. “Of course.”

  Georgie stepped behind Regina and began to loosen the ties of her gown. Regina sighed in relief. Her father had insisted she wear that blasted heavy gown all day, regardless of how uncomfortable it was for traveling.

  Her maid pulled loose the knots that held her wire stays in place, letting them cling and clang into a heap on the wooden floor.

  “Just a moment more, my lady,” Georgie then pulled the top of her dress from Regina's shoulders and brought the dress to the floor for Regina to step out of.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Unaccustomed to being undressed by a stranger, she stepped out of her slippers and refused Georgie's help with her stockings. She might be a baroness now, but she was not an invalid.

  Georgie walked across the room and slid out a drawer in the bureau. When she returned it was with a large white square of fabric in her hands.

  Regina's eyes narrowed. “What is that?”

  “Your nightgown,” Georgie said simply, airing it out.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It's what you sent, my lady.” Smiling, the maid assured her, “Now that you're married, this is the appropriate type of nightgown.”

  Regina nodded. It was the only response she could form. She'd have seen her nightgown already and not been so surprised had she been well enough to attend the final fittings for her trousseau. Aunt Florence, who was approximately her height, had gone in her stead. It was only a nightgown after all; it didn't need to be sewn to fit her body perfectly.

  With a shrug, she peeled off her chemise and allowed Georgie to help her into the oversized nightgown.

  Impulsively, Regina clutched the fabric against her skin to fight off the feeling of being naked in another's presence. It wasn't that the nightgown was low cut or sheer, thus revealing her most intimate parts to this stranger's gaze, but because there was so much fabric, it billowed out and away from her so much she hardly felt anything against her skin. Two buttons held a stiff collar flush against her neck then suddenly the fabric billowed out. Yards and yards of fabric had to have been used. All the way from her shoulder to her wrists and ankles, white puffy fabric engulfed her. Only around her neck and wrists was it tight, and then only in small strips—just enough to hold the fabric against her body.

  She dropped her gaze to the floor and nearly groaned. In a pool around her feet, there had to be at least another yard of fabric. “Goodness,” she mumbled under her breath. “Are you sure this wasn't intended to be a bed sheet?”

  Georgie shook her head. “No, my lady. It is exactly the thing that was sent with your trunks, I assure you.”

  “Very well.” This had to be the work of her aunt. Heaven forbid if one's husband were to see her womanly curves; and shall the woman be struck dead by lightning if she revealed to him more than an inch of skin. She fisted both of her hands into the folds of loose fabric that hung at her sides and, using her fingers, bunched up the fabric until it was no longer dragging on the floor.

  With the much-needed assistance of Georgie, Regina climbed into her bed and refused any other coverings. She was already hot wearing this; she might die from heat if she were to cover up with anything else.

  After adjusting the curtains and gathering Regina's discarded clothes, Georgie blew out the candles and made her quiet exit.

  Regina rolled over. Then she groaned. This nightgown would be the death of her. And that wasn't an exaggeration. She moved around in her sleep so much that if she didn't get all of this fabric off of her, she might hang herself.

  With another low groan, Regina scooted to the edge of the bed and placed her feet on the floor. Quickly, she undid the two buttons that held the stiff collar around her neck, then sighed with relief as she pulled the fabric open, allowing herself to breathe again. Standing, she dug both hands into the endless fabric that made up the rest of the gown. Holding a fair amount of fabric firmly in both hands, she started to lift—only to be stopped by the unmistakable creaking of a door.

  “Edward?” Regina said breathlessly, panic halting her movements.

  “Yes.” His voice was nothing more than a low whisper. He padded toward her, his bare feet making soft thuds against the wooden floor. He stopped about three feet in front of her, and in the dim moonlight she stood quiet as he raked his hand through his hair. “Did I wake you?”

  Regina almost laughed at his nervous question. “Do you think of me as a horse, my lord?” she blurted before she could stop herself from saying something that might be considered disrespectful.

  “A horse?”

  “It is equines who sleep while standing, is it not?”

  He chuckled at her reasoning. Then his gaze swept her from the unbuttoned top of her nightgown that formed a V just large enough to show him the dip in the column of her throat all the way down to her still cov
ered feet.

  What must he think of her, she wondered. Immediately, she let go of the fabric in her hands. He wasn't chuckling anymore, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed audibly. Perhaps Georgie had been right, and this was exactly what he'd expected her to wear.

  “Regina?”

  She didn't respond. No words could form in her mind just then. The way this tall, powerful man with a chiseled face and a strong jaw, stood in front of her, basked in moonlight and staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes, robbed her of her ability to speak.

  Edward took another step closer to her. “Are you tired?” His voice, an odd mixture of rough and soft, fell over her like a caress.

  She licked her lips. “No.”

  “But you were asleep when we arrived...”

  Had she not been so captivated by the look in his eyes, she might have smiled at his weak protest. “I know. I'd been unable to sleep well at night since I was informed of our engagement.” That was true enough. First excitement then worry had kept her awake. “But now I'm well rested.” What was she saying? No proper lady would ever say such things as encouragement to her husband!

  “Well rested, you say,” Edward repeated just before his lips took hers in a kiss more searing than the one at their wedding. His hands came up to cup her face—sending a tingling sensation down her spine—his fingers dug into the bottom of her pinned hair.

  Against his lips, she moved hers—mirroring his movements. He backed her against the bed, and she gladly fell into the thick feather mattress.

  He paused a moment to discard his dark dressing robe before climbing into the bed with her.

  Then, his hands and lips were all over her again. He kissed her lips, then moved to her cheeks, and then down to her jaw. His fingertips sank into the bottom of her hair and twined within the locks. Unsure what else to do with her hands, but refusing to just rest them at her sides, she placed them on his shoulders. Though the layer of his nightshirt separated her bare hands from his bare shoulders, she could feel the heat of his skin against her hands. She squeezed and kneaded his muscles, encouraging him to continue with his kisses and touches. Oh what a wanton she'd become!

  His hands left her hair and went to her sides. The fabric of her dratted nightgown was so thick she couldn't place exactly where his hands were, just that they were grabbing handfuls of the heavy fabric and raising them.

  A moment later, the cool air of the room caressed her leg, followed shortly by her husband's warm hand. He slid his palm up her calf to her knee. Her skin prickled with awareness. His hand caressed her thigh and she bent her knee and let her leg fall to the side. His other hand soon blazed the same path up her other leg, taking that side of her nightgown with it.

  He released her gown and stopped kissing her neck. “Regina,” he whispered shifting his body on top of hers. “This might be a little late, but do you know what to expect?”

  The uncertainty filling his voice made her heart squeeze. “Yes,” she said more to reassure him than her. Frankly, everything her aunt had told her to expect: painful squeezing, sloppy kissing, the counting ceiling tiles until it was over had been untrue; replaced instead with gentle touches, warm kisses that made her skin tingle and the shameful yearning for it never to end.

  “Good.” He rolled to his side, supporting his weight on his forearm, then rearranged his nightshirt in a way that allowed his thick, hair-roughened thighs to press against hers. “I'll make this part quick,” he promised.

  Not too quick, Regina hoped. Perhaps it was because Edward loved her or she was just truly a wanton, but she was actually enjoying his attentions and didn't want them to be over quickly.

  A second later, she wasn't so sure anymore.

  Panic built in her chest as something firm and thick pressed against her most sensitive areas. “Ed-ward,” she choked.

  “It'll be over in just a second,” he whispered as his lips pressed a kiss against her ear.

  Regina tried to nod. But this foreign, uneasy sensation had her full attention.

  Then, as he'd said, he'd moved forward and whatever he’d been doing was done.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Swallowing, Regina lifted one shaking hand to his sweat-dampened forehead and used her fingers to sweep back a lock of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes. She smiled at him. That last part hadn't been the most enjoyable activity she'd ever endured, but all of it combined certainly wasn't as bad as Aunt Florence had hinted it would be. “Of course, I'm all right.”

  “Good,” he said, his voice ragged. He dropped his lips to the V of her nightgown at the top of her chest and brought his hands up to her shoulders, then started moving on top of—and inside of—her.

  Stunned, she lay still. Didn't he just finish whatever he'd been doing? Why was he still touching her this way? And why did it not hurt like it had a moment ago?

  Closing her eyes to block out everything except the way she felt as he touched her thus, she bit her lower lip and grasped onto his shoulders.

  An odd yet enjoyable sensation developed in her abdomen and sparked each time his body pressed into her.

  Above her, Edward's breathing increased as did his grip on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and locked gazes with him. His blue eyes were wide and dark—intense. His fingers squeezed her shoulders just a hint tighter then relaxed as an unfamiliar noise escaped his lips and his shoulder muscles tensed.

  His movements slowed and the stiff muscles under her fingers relaxed. Wordlessly, Edward leaned down and pressed a row of kisses from her forehead down along the ridge of her nose then to her mouth.

  She kissed him back then waited while he backed away enough to separate their bodies. He then rolled to his side and pulled both of their garments down to cover their intimate areas.

  “I hope I didn't hurt you,” he said hoarsely.

  “You didn't.” She moved closer to him.

  “Good. Dare I ask if you found it to be enjoyable?”

  A heated blush stole over Regina. “You may ask, but I shan't tell.”

  He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and placed his right hand on her abdomen, slowly bunching up the fabric of the gigantic nightgown. “Perhaps we'll have to do it again, then.”

  She shivered at the thought. “Is it possible to do that more than once in a night?”

  The low rumble of laughter in his chest was his only response.

  Embarrassment washed over her. “What I meant was that my aunt never said you'd want to do it more than once in a night.” She closed her mouth with a sharp snap. That hadn't come out right. Moreover, no bridegroom wanted to think of his new bride's aunt on his wedding night. Of that, she was certain.

  He placed a warm kiss just behind her earlobe. “She didn't mention that? How remiss of her,” he murmured between kisses. “It seems she may have been ill-informed about something, then.”

  Regina yawned. “No. I don't think she was ill-informed. I just don't think she loved her husband, or he her.”

  “Oh?” Edward's soft voice in her ear sent a blanket of warmth over her.

  Sleep's welcoming respite was calling her and she snuggled closer to her husband. “It's different for me than it was for her, I suppose,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

  Edward idly ran the pad of his thumb back and forth across the side of her hand. The action was oddly comforting to her. “How so?”

  Too overtaken with exhaustion to think about exactly what she'd said or what Edward had meant, she said, “She had an arranged marriage and I have a love match.”

  ***

  Regina's words hit him like a punch to the face. A love match? What made her think that?

  Blood thundered in his ears. It didn't take a clever scientist such as himself to solve the riddle. Someone—either Mr. Harris or Mrs. Lowry—had lied to Regina about the circumstances of their
marriage.

  “That no good coward,” he said under his breath.

  He released his breath and gazed down at Regina. She truly was innocent in all of this. He'd enjoyed her company the day they'd met. But to know that she hadn't even known about their betrothal agreement in the first place and had been misled to believe that he was asking for her hand out of love infuriated him.

  He let his eyes wander over her sleeping form. Was her belief that he loved her the reason she'd been so excited to see him at the wedding? And what of her? Did she love him? A lead weight settled on his chest. Surely not. She couldn't love him. She just couldn't. They hardly knew each other. She couldn't love him, nor could she expect him to love her back; for if she did, she'd surely be crushed to learn that a love match was not an option for him. He'd seen the effects of so called “love matches”. And frankly, they were not for him.

  Heaving a heavy sigh, he rolled onto his back. Did it matter now? Was there anything that could be changed? The fact was, they were married and it didn't matter the circumstances of their marriage, did it?

  He blew out another pent up breath and closed his eyes. A picture of his mother flashed in his mind. She was crying—as was usual for her. Father had said or done something she didn't like and it'd reminded her that she could have married the Italian count she'd fallen in love with if not for family duty.

  He opened his eyes to rid himself of the memory only to then be reminded of his father. A man utterly destroyed over that erroneous feeling known to some as love.

  Regina would likely be the same way: destroyed and lost. Did he want that life for either of them? Did he want to have a wife always in vapors because she'd had an arranged marriage rather than a love match? And what about her? Did she deserve to be devastated that way? How humiliating it would be for her to learn everything she believed about their marriage was false?

  No, he couldn't do that to her. He might despise her father for his blatant dishonesty, but he would not, could not, devastate Regina that way.