***
Lucy sat beside her husband at the wedding breakfast table, overwhelmed by his attention.
“Would you like more tea?” He lifted a brow, waiting.
She nodded and he filled her cup.
He picked up the platter of ham. “Do you like ham?”
“Yes.”
He smiled and placed two slices on her plate.
“Thank you.” Lucy returned his smile, but she had no appetite and, instead, sipped her tea as everyone else ate ravenously. Except Chastity. Lucy’s heart went out to her sister. Chastity seemed to be waiting for Lucy to reach the end of the plank she walked and fall.
Sir Stirling sat to Chastity’s left. Like the duke, he ate with gusto, but Lucy didn’t miss the worried glance he cast Chastity’s way. She pushed her food around her plate, and Lucy suddenly understood. Chastity might be worried for her, but she also worried for herself. She hadn’t truly expected Sir Stirling to be able to marry Lucy to anyone, much less in two days. All this meant that Chastity was one sister closer to a marriage she didn’t want.
What frightened her so much about marriage? Was it Chastity’s ‘adventure,’ as she called it, with Lord Everson four years ago when he whisked her away to a parson to marry her? Chastity had been twenty, but she hadn’t been a green girl. Lucy was certain Chastity had never been a green girl. She’d often wondered if Chastity had given her innocence to the earl. Lord Everson hadn’t betrayed her—exactly. He was in financial straits, and hadn’t told her. He’d sworn all along that he loved her, but their father forbade the marriage. For some time after the affair, Lucy had wondered if Chastity still loved the earl. Could it be possible she eschewed marriage because she still pined for him? Lucy could find no truth in the idea.
“You haven’t eaten anything, love.”
The baron’s—her husband’s—voice startled Lucy. Had he called her love? He stared at her and she realized he’d said something.
“Oh, I’m not hungry.”
He frowned. “The service was very long. Do you need to rest before we depart for Caenleigh Castle?”
A knot formed in her stomach. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about leaving home. Sadness suddenly weighed down on her. She would miss her family. Oddly, she realized her leaving would be harder on Chastity than her. Understanding struck. Chastity didn’t want her sisters to leave her.
***
The farewells were tearful, and Quinn was surprised when Stirling requested that his bay be readied to leave when Quinn and his wife set out. His wife. God help him.
Stirling shook hands with the duke near the front door steps, then approached Quinn, where he stood waiting beside the carriage.
“Are you ready?” Stirling asked.
Quinn nodded at the carriage. “Lucy’s luggage is loaded. She is taking only two bags today. The rest will be sent later.”
Stirling shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Oh.” Quinn could find nothing else to say.
Stirling laughed and clapped him on the back. “You’ll do fine, lad.”
Quinn looked at Lucy, who was hugging Olivia. Three days ago, marriage had been the farthest thing from his thoughts. Now, he couldn’t imagine a future without this woman in his life. He didn’t know her, but he’d glimpsed her keen mind and hidden strength, traits lacking in the women he’d dallied with. He wanted a lifetime to learn everything about her. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
His heart thumped. “Thank you.”
Surprise flickered across Stirling’s face, then he smiled. “I’m pleased you’re happy, Quinn.”
Quinn regarded him. “What of your bride-to-be?”
Stirling released a breath. “She is…a challenge.”
“I’ve never known you to run from a challenge.”
Stirling laughed. “I suspect Lady Chastity will prove to be the greatest challenge I’ve faced yet.”
“Is her father’s title worth all the trouble?”
He snorted. “God, no.”
Lucy and her father turned toward them and she met Quinn’s gaze. His mind muddled. God help him, was the woman going to have this effect on him for the rest of his life? The idea frightened him. How much power would she have over him? Bloody hell, yes, for he would move heaven and hell to make her happy.
They reached the carriage. Lucy hugged her father. The older man released her, then clasped her hand and helped her into the carriage. He looked at Quinn. “Remember what I said. If you hurt her, I will shoot you.” He turned and left.
Quinn stared after him. “A man of few words.”
Stirling nodded. “And he means those words.” The door closed and they were left standing in the early afternoon sun. Stirling faced him. “You had better go. I will call on you in a week.”
Quinn raised a brow. “A week?”
Stirling flashed a smile. “I have another sister to marry off.”
Chapter Seven
Lucy tried not to look at her husband as he stepped into the carriage. To her relief, he pulled the door shut and slid into the seat opposite her. She was embarrassed to admit that while she’d anticipated being held in a man’s arms, now that the moment had arrived and this stranger could lawfully pull her close, she was afraid.
The coach jolted into motion. He’d told her the ride to his home was forty-five minutes. It seemed an interminable amount of time to spend with him alone in such a confined space. What could they possibly talk about? What if he were a bore? What if he found her a bore? Long minutes passed. She wracked her brain for something to say.
“Why did you marry me?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Why did you marry me? You clearly didn’t want a wife. Then you—” Her pulse quickened at the memory of his declaration that he didn’t allow his betrothed to dance the waltz with another man. “For goodness sake, what possessed you to say what you did to Lord Kinlow?”
“Did you wish to dance with him?”
She frowned. “Of course not.”
“Then we are in agreement.”
“We never disagreed,” she said.
“Even better.” He nodded.
What was wrong with him? “Are you ill?”
“Ill? Nae. I’ve never felt better.”
Lucy studied him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
The man was intentionally being obtuse. “Why did you marry me?”
“We were betrothed.”
She gave a soft snort.
He lifted a brow. “Were we not betrothed?
“You did not want to marry me.”
“A man is allowed to change his mind.”
“Rubbish,” she said.
Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “A man isn’t allowed to change his mind?”
“A man doesn’t change his mind about marriage so quickly,” she said.
“Four days ago I would have agreed.”
Lucy considered. “Are you saying you wanted to marry me?”
His expression gentled. “Lass, even Stirling couldn’t have forced me to marry against my will.”
Her throat went dry. “Why then?”
He smiled. “Only God knows why any man wants to marry a woman.”
She stared for an instant, then rolled her eyes. “Heaven help me.”
He grinned and she couldn’t quite prevent an answering half smile.
His expression sobered. “Are you terribly disappointed that your father married you to me?”
“Oh no,” she quickly said. “I am quite pleased, actually.”
A speculative light appeared in his eyes. “Indeed?”
Her cheeks flamed. Why was he looking at her that way? He looked as if he wanted to eat her…or maybe, kiss her. Would she go wild with his kisses?
The carriage lurched. Quinn swung his gaze to the window. The carriage jolted again. Lucy jerked to the side, nearly slamming into the door. Quinn leapt a
cross the seat and dragged her against him an instant before the carriage listed heavily to the left with a loud crack. Lucy was enveloped by the scent of wool, sandalwood soap—and him.
“Whoa!” the coachman shouted.
Lucy buried her face in Quinn’s jacket when the carriage swung perilously to the side. Her heart raced as his arms tightened around her when they slid toward the door. He yanked her onto his lap and twisted in time to shield her as his shoulder struck the side of the carriage. The coach dragged forward another few seconds, then came to a grinding halt.
“Are you unharmed?” He pulled back and peered down at her.
Lucy nodded, but couldn’t lift her head from his chest. Her heart raced.
The coach tilted slightly and she started.
“It’s just the coachman,” Quinn soothed. “Stay still until he opens the door, love.”
The door opened and the coachman stepped into view. “Are you and the lady unharmed, sir?”
Quinn nodded. “Is it safe to move?”
The man nodded. “Aye. The wheel broke, but it’s sitting solidly on the ground now.”
Lucy lifted her head. Her face had gone pale, but otherwise, she appeared, none the worse for wear.
“Are you ready, love?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes and his cock pulsed. He pulled her close and she threw her arms about his neck as he ducked and stepped from the coach. If he wasn’t careful, he would embarrass both of them. How was it possible that she felt so right in his arms? He lowered her feet to the ground. She took a deep breath as she regained her balance and he was certain she clung to him for a heartbeat longer than was necessary.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
She nodded. “Aye.”
“Good.” Quinn turned, took a step to the coach, and inspected the wheel. He squatted for a better look, then frowned. “The wheel simply split apart.” He looked up at Iain. “How deep was the rut we hit?”
“We didnae hit a rut, my lord.” He scratched his chin. “As you say, the wheel just split.”
Quinn ran a finger over the break. “I doubt it can be repaired. We’ll have to replace it.” He rose. They would have to seek help in the nearest village. “Help me disengage the horses from the carriage. We will ride to Ardbuie.”
Once the horses were free and Iain had gotten Lucy’s bags from the coach and tied them to his horse, Quinn returned to her. “I’m sorry, lass, but there are no saddles. You will have to ride with me.”
She smiled and it seemed the world brightened. “It’s no trouble.”
He hoped she would think the same of riding two miles on his lap.
***
Lucy was sure her cheeks were crimson. It had been bad enough when the baron yanked her onto his lap when the carriage broke down. This, however, was far worse. She’d never sat on a man’s lap, and she was surprised at the hard thighs beneath her bottom—and the hard length that pressed against her hip. She kept her gaze on her lap.
Thankfully, the coachman rode a few paces ahead. She prayed he didn’t look back and guess her embarrassment. They rode slowly. Still, the rise and fall of the horse forced her hip to rub against Quinn’s… She swallowed. This was not how she’d expected to spend her wedding day.
“I’m sorry for this inconvenience,” Quinn said.
“It isn’t your fault.” Lucy kept her eyes on her lap. Good Lord, she was glad he couldn’t see her face.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Lucy shook her head.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded.
He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up toward him. “I don’t believe you.” A wicked light gleamed in his eyes.
Lucy stiffened. “You are making fun of me.”
The horse stumbled. Lucy threw her arms about Quinn’s neck.
He chuckled. “You can hug me like this all day, if you like.”
Lucy blinked, then understood his meaning. She shoved back and felt herself slip backwards. She grabbed for his shirt and his arms tightened around him.
“That’s not bad, either,” he said.
Lucy snapped her head up and met his gaze. The wicked delight had been replaced with an intensity that took her breath. His eyes dropped to her mouth. He drew back on the reins. The horse stopped and she froze as Quinn lowered his head. Their mouths touched and she closed her eyes. A tremor rippled through her at the pleasant pressure of his lips against hers. He breathed deep and she was surprised when their breaths mingled. His arms tightened around her and she melted closer.
Tentatively, she slid a hand up his arm to his neck. Something flicked her lips. She jumped. Quinn chuckled. Another flick of his tongue against her mouth. Then he applied gentle pressure with his tongue and she realized he wanted her to part her lips. Her heart beat faster. Lucy parted her lips a fraction. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and she gasped when he tangled with her tongue. She quashed the impulse to pull away. A wife must submit to her husband’s attentions.
But this…this, she realized, was quite nice. A pleasurable warmth spread through her. He tasted like the port he’d drunk after breakfast. The desire to get closer to him rose and she nestled nearer his chest. He groaned and she shivered when the sound reverberated through her. The hair at his nape tickled the tips of her fingers. The locks were surprisingly soft. Lucy slid her hand upward into his hair. Her pulse skipped a beat. She liked the silken flow of hair between her fingers. Lucy became aware of a thrumming between her legs, a beat in rhythm with her heart. What—
Quinn abruptly broke the kiss and buried his face in her hair. What had she done? Did he not like her? What would she do if he didn’t?
At last, he lifted his head and nudged the horse into action. He looked down at her.
“Beware, sweet, you tempt me so much that I will not be able to wait to bed you properly at home.”
A strange thrill ripped through her. “Really?”
He smiled. “Really.”
She stared up at him with a combination of wonder and desire that nearly did Quinn in. It was clear she had no experience with men. But her desire had surfaced. She would be so sweet. He took a steadying breath. Bloody hell, could he wait until they reached Ardbuie and then home? It seemed an eternity before he’d be able to make love to his wife. He already suffered torment.
As if to taunt him, she straightened, bumping her hip against his cock. Sweet agony tightened his bollocks and he feared he would spill his seed in his breeches. He kept his gaze straight ahead for the rest of the ride and forced himself to think about the stable roof that needed mending.
Chapter Eight
Lucy jarred awake. She blinked, disoriented. A low fire burned in the hearth on the opposite wall instead of to her right, and she lay in a four-poster bed with heavy dark curtains swagged between the posts, instead of the short postered bed in her room. Where was she?
The mattress dipped. She looked over her shoulder and started at sight of a man’s broad back. She bolted upright and screamed. The man leapt to his feet and faced her. The scream died on her lips. Heaven help her. The man was her husband and he was… She swallowed.
He was naked.
Understanding spread across his features. “Forgive me, Lucy. I should have realized I might startle you.”
She couldn’t look away from his manhood. It jutted upward. It pulsed.
“What happened?”
“What?” he said, then he began to laugh.
She yanked her gaze to his face. “It is alive?”
His mouth twitched and she saw the same devilry in his eyes she’d glimpsed earlier.
“You might say that.” He pulled the blanket back and slipped into bed beside her.
Lucy sat motionless, clutching the sheet to her breast.
He pushed up on an elbow. “Do you plan to sit like that all night?”
“Like what?”
“Sitting upright.”
She didn’t move and Quinn was sure
she was considering doing just that.
Quinn studied her. “Did you enjoy riding here with me?”
She frowned. “That is a strange question.”
“Not really. I think you liked the kiss.”
Her gaze dropped to the blanket. “Oh.”
“Would you like to do that again?”
To his satisfaction, her eyes snapped up to meet his. He read apprehension…and curiosity. Still, she was a complete innocent.
“If you’d rather wait…” He let the words drop off.
Wait? He was suggesting they not consummate their marriage? The marriage wasn’t truly legal until they did. Lucy recalled the furtive looks the maids had sent her way when they’d helped her bathe, then made a great fuss as they’d ushered her into the bed. They knew exactly what lay ahead for her in her husband’s bed. If they found no blood on the sheet in the morning they would know they hadn’t consummated their marriage. Another thought struck. What if they believed that the lack of blood meant she wasn’t a virgin? Worse, when the maids did see the blood at a later date and would know for sure her husband hadn’t bedded her.
Pride piqued. A man was supposed to deflower his wife on their wedding night.
“You don’t want me?”
He rolled onto his back and threw the covers back to reveal his erection. “Does that look like I don’t want you?”
“I…” She couldn’t finish.
She’d never seen anything quite like it. She understood the mechanics of what transpired between a man and a woman, and she was suddenly certain this just wouldn’t work.
“Lucy.”
She blinked and yanked her gaze onto his face. Good Lord, she’d been staring at his… Would she ever live down her boldness?
“I promise, we will fit well together.” He smiled.
She drew a sharp breath. He knew what she’d been thinking. Lucy threw herself back onto the bed and yanked the sheet over her face. He chuckled. The mattress dipped and she realized he was scooting closer.
He put an arm around her waist and pulled her back flush against his chest. She wore a thin nightrail—too thin—she realized, for the warmth of his body penetrated the fabric and she felt overheated. And his manhood pressed against her back. Was it supposed to be so hard? Why had she agreed to this?
Scandalous Lords and Courtship Page 68