Her leg came over his thighs and he pulled the limb a bit higher, enjoying the way she was tangled up in him.
“I want…” she whispered, looking up at him. “I want to give to you the way you’ve given to me.”
His cock twitched at the words and he nearly groaned. “Trust me, sweetheart. There is plenty of time for all of that. We’re going to teach you everything you wish to know.”
She lifted her head, her finger tracing little patterns on his chest. The gentle touch sent rivulets of pleasure across his skin. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Tell me about your family again.”
He stiffened. Everything but that.
Chapter Twelve
Abigail felt the shift in him. The tightening of his muscles, the inhale of his breath. “Abigail.”
“I know they didn’t love you,” she said, lifting her head again to look in his dark blue eyes. They swirled like the ocean during a storm. “That’s their fault. Not yours.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Then she gave him a small smile. “I’m a total pain in the ass and my sisters still love me.”
“Did you just use profanity?”
She sniffed. “I’m a married woman now.”
He chuckled despite the situation and then reached out, running his fingers through her hair. “Thank you for not saying that you were married to the man who blasphemes with abandon.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Who did you hate more, your father or your brother?”
A touch of resentment lit his eyes. “I knew my father was a cruel bastard. He hit me square in the jaw with a closed fist at the age of four. But my brother...because of our age difference and he was away so much, I made up this fantasy. That he and I would somehow stand together against the tyrant. He used that allegiance, on my part, to get me to sign a paper that turned my part of the inheritance over to him.”
She drew in a sharp breath trying to even imagine one of her sisters acting that way. “He did what?”
“He got me good and drunk and then pushed the paper in front of me. Later, I didn’t even remember signing it.”
She flattened her hands out on his chest directly over his heart. She could feel its solid beat under her fingers. “It’s too bad he’s dead. I’d like to punch him.”
He gave her a small smile. “Thank you.” Chad continued stroking her hair, pushing her head back down onto his chest.
But she lifted it again, meeting his eyes once more. “I know that we are just a match of convenience. My safety and reputation in exchange for my dowry.”
He grimaced, his fingers digging deeper into her scalp. “That’s not—”
“It is,” she answered. Then she leaned down and kissed his chest. “But if you let me, we can be…more. I can show you what it means to be part of a real family.”
His heart skipped a beat under her hand before the organ sped up. “Abby.”
She shook her head. “I know you’ll still run the club and perhaps you’ll want to return to your old life, but there are merits to being more domestic. I’m not entirely certain what they are, but I’m sure we could learn them together.”
Before she could say another word, she was on her back, his large body over hers, his mouth pressed to her lips in a kiss that claimed her very soul. When he finally lifted his head, she was panting again, her body aching for more.
“Let me tell you the advantages of being domestic…” And then he kissed her. “A woman to share a bed with every night who is warm, and soft, and fits against me like she was meant to be there. A woman who smells amazing and feels even better. One who is worried about my happiness and doesn’t judge me for my past.”
“Oh,” she breathed before his lips descended again. Her legs wrapped about his thighs and the head of his now-erect manhood pressed against her soft folds. “That was lovely.”
And then she tilted her hips, drawing him a bit further into her body. It burned a bit, as he was large, and it stretched her skin, but it felt…wonderful too.
But then he pulled away, removing himself from her.
Hurt burned down her throat as she swallowed and she dropped her legs from his, trying to turn away, but his weight held her in place. “Get off,” she choked.
“Abby,” he whispered close to her ear. He didn’t sound hard or annoyed, in fact his voice pleaded. “Let me give you this gift.”
She looked back at him then, wondering what he meant. “Gift?”
“Everything in our relationship has been so fast. It’s not that I don’t want your love. It’s that I want to spend some time building up to actual sex. This should be slow. I wanted it to be even slower, but I couldn’t resist touching you tonight.”
Her breath caught as she realized what he was trying to do. He wanted to make their marriage better for her and that touched something deep inside.
She nodded, her body relaxing back into the mattress.
He slid to the side and pulled her close again. “Now what do you say we get some sleep?”
He pulled her leg back over his body, her head on his chest. Sleep was a good idea. Tomorrow, she’d have to learn what it meant to be lady of the house.
But as she lay tucked into his side, a mixture of hope and worry filled her thoughts. They were both trying to make the most of this marriage, but she wasn’t entirely certain either of them would succeed.
* * *
The week had passed in a blur for Chad, he thought as he sat at his desk.
He’d reviewed the ledgers and been pleasantly surprised by the income his own estate was generating. It had been a good summer and between that and the club, along with Abigail’s dowry, he’d be able to eliminate his debts and begin on improvements to increase his profits.
Which meant he had enough funds for his wife to go shopping. She needed a new wardrobe as he had no idea how long their stay in the country would be.
And honestly, he wanted her to see him as the man that would provide for her, not Vanity.
His friend was proving a dratted nuisance and one that Chad would like to send packing back to London.
The problem was that Vanity had little to do here, and as the most classically handsome charmer Chad had ever met, Vanity spent a great deal of time talking with Abigail.
She, in turn, seemed to enjoy his company immensely.
Which only fueled Chad’s irritation.
That was his wife. If Vanity weren’t here for Abigail’s safety, he’d like to toss the man bodily from the property.
He’d never experienced jealousy like this before, and being completely new, he wasn’t quite certain what to do with it.
His answer was to spend longer and longer amounts of time pleasuring his wife in her bed.
He still hadn’t taken her maidenhead. Instead, he spent endless hours kissing every inch of her. Countless minutes whispering sweet words in her ear, and an infinite amount of time with his face between her legs.
She kept asking him about his family. She’d pulled countless stories from him about his mother’s dismissive cruelty and his father and brother’s more direct brand of torture. In turn, she’d told him about growing up in a family with bossy sisters but with parents who loved and guided their children.
But she’d also shared what it had felt like to watch that life fall apart.
Her mother’s death.
Her father’s disappearance.
The lengths her sisters had to go in order to keep them safe and fed.
And she’d told him how she’d resented that they hadn’t given her more responsibility, but that she’d come to the conclusion she had to earn that trust. In whispered words, she shared her fear that she was like her father. Taking love from the family but not really giving back.
And then she’d looked at him with those warm brown eyes. “I want to give to you and I want you to trust me too.”
The words had slayed him.
Trust her? He’
d bared his soul to her. He’d been delaying his own satisfaction for hers, he didn’t want any other man to even be near her, he…
He dropped his head into his hands. He was falling in love.
He scrubbed his scalp, his paperwork completely forgotten. He was in love. With his wife. Was there anything wrong with that?
He grimaced. He didn’t have any idea how to properly love another person. He was bound to fail her. He squeezed his eyes shut.
After all, he’d already botched their wedding.
“What’s wrong with you?” Vanity called from the door. He was sweaty as though he’d just come back from one of his daily runs. He hadn’t known that about Vanity until this trip. The man was a militant exerciser. It only seemed to make him more handsome. The blasted man.
“Nothing.” He lifted his head. “I’m wading through a mountain of paperwork while you entertain my new wife. What could possibly be wrong?”
Vanity cocked a brow as he stepped into the room. “Judging by the rosy glow on her cheeks, you’re doing a fine job of entertaining her during the evenings.”
He stood so quickly, he knocked three ledgers from the desk. “Don’t speak about her that way.” His teeth locked as he forced the words through a clenched jaw.
Vanity gave him a long appraising look as he stopped on the other side of the desk. “Relax, big fellow. I like your wife. She’s smart, and funny, and good company, but I feel about her the way I feel about my little sister.”
Chad relaxed a bit and reached down to pick up the ledgers he’d knocked over. “Apologies. I’ve never felt this way before and I…” He stopped. Was he talking about his feelings with men now? Bloody Christ.
But Vanity only chuckled. “I suppose that happens when you marry.”
Chad shrugged. Mayhap. Was it natural? His father had certainly never felt that way about his mother. But he was done sharing for the day. “I need to take Abigail shopping for more clothes, but I’m buried here.”
Vanity shrugged. “I’ll take her if you want.”
He held back a rumble of frustration. “You’re just trying to make me look bad.”
Vanity grinned. “I am not. But I’m also not doing your accounting. I’m likely to have a giant pile of ledgers to reckon with when I return.”
He hated to send Vanity off with her. But he also didn’t wish for her to go alone. They’d come here because danger had been nipping at her heels in London. “All right. Fine. But make certain she knows that I am the one actually purchasing the clothing. And bring a maid as well.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Vanity gave him a wink that only served to annoy Chad the more. “Perhaps you can join us at some point? I can do the grunt work and then you can sweep in and take her to the inn for a late lunch?”
It wasn’t a bad plan. Perhaps he wouldn’t toss Vanity out on his arse after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Abigail walked down the street carrying several parcels as she smiled with joy. Vanity held even more. And the maid a few more besides.
It had been a thoroughly wonderful morning. First, they’d visited the modiste where she’d ordered gowns. Then they’d purchased hats and ribbons, soaps and perfumes.
She sighed to herself. Married life was proving quite lovely after all.
Chad had assured her he’d have more time in the very near future but his inattention during the day had resulted in a great deal of attention at night, which Abigail was enjoying immensely.
And they’d begun to share. Really share with each other. With each passing day, she grew less afraid that they wouldn’t form a bond and that he’d return to his old life.
And she also grew less concerned with her petty worries about her sisters. It mattered less if Eliza told her what to do.
She was just here, living life, as Chad’s wife—and she loved it.
In fact, she was fairly certain that she loved him.
Her heart sped up in her chest. Every night, she tried to show him that love. She touched him, talked with him, held him.
She’d like to ask her sisters how they had known they loved their husbands and how they’d gained their affection in return. But she didn’t even know where her sisters were.
Her chest twisted again. She missed them.
And she worried. Her father had gone on a routine trip and never returned. What if that happened with her sisters too? She couldn’t bear to lose one of them.
But her own thoughts were interrupted by the sniffling from the doorway of a nearby church.
Abigail stopped, turning toward the sound.
Her heart tugged. Perhaps it was the thoughts of her sisters but she couldn’t just continue on and so she started up the steps.
“Abby?” Vanity called behind her. “What are you doing?”
She ignored him. “Hello?” she called instead.
The crying immediately stopped.
Abigail stepped into the shadows, moving slowly so as not to scare the woman or perhaps to protect herself.
But what she found was a woman about her age, sitting on the hard stone, her knees drawn up and her head on her folded arms.
“Hello,” she said again. “Are you all right?”
The woman lifted her head. Perhaps it was the shadow playing on her hair but in this light the tresses looked black as night. Her face was the most flawlessly beautiful Abigail had ever seen. Large dark eyes, a tiny straight nose, and cheekbones rounded out by full lips.
“I’m…I’m fine,” the woman said, a gasping breath breaking up the sentence.
Abigail moved closer, bending down. “Forgive me for arguing but you don’t sound fine.”
She gave her head a shake. “Thank you for your concern. But my problems are so common as to almost be boring.”
Abigail furrowed her brow. “What’s your name?”
“Miss Gabriella Winston.” She shuddered, squeezing her arms tighter about her. “Though that will change soon enough.”
Abigail heard Vanity reach the top of the stairs. She gave him a quick look, but his eyes were fixed on Gabriella. “Why will it change?”
“Because,” she whispered. “I’m a charge of the parish. In an act of mercy, the priest is auctioning me off to the highest-bidding man today. He’s right. It’s better than a workhouse. But what he actually means is that I’ll make the parish far more money at auction.”
Abigail gasped. She’d heard Eliza mention workhouses and auctions with the sort of dread that made Abigail’s skin tingle. If Eliza was frightened of these events then Gabriella was surely in a desperate situation. “There must be something we can do.”
Gabriella’s brow furrowed but Vanity cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my lady but…”
Gabriella pushed up to standing. She was tall for a woman. She reached for Abigail. “You’re a lady?”
Abigail nodded and Vanity muttered under his breath.
“Is he your servant?”
Vanity’s head snapped straighter. “I’m her husband’s friend. Doing both of them a favor.”
Abigail nibbled her lip. “These auctions. What happens at them?”
Gabriella wrapped her arms about her body once again. “I’ll be sold to the highest-paying man and married first thing in the morning by the very man who sold me.”
Vanity muttered what Abigail could only assume was a curse. “When does this happen?”
“In a few hours.”
Abigail reached out a hand and Gabriella slowly unwrapped her arm to reach for Abigail’s hand. “I’ll find a way to help you.” She looked at Vanity. “Can Chad stop this?”
He winced. “Maybe. The priest will not want to anger your husband.” Vanity stepped closer. “But where will she go after that? Will she live with you?”
Abigail didn’t let go of the other woman’s hand, but she understood Vanity’s point. Abigail knew men found her attractive, but this woman…she was stunning. A rare beauty. Did she move her into her house with a new husband when they’d yet to consummate
their marriage? She wasn’t seriously worried about Chad’s actions, but then again, he’d all but said that he had every intention of returning to his rakish ways. Did she invite this beauty into their new home? Fear made the blood rush in her veins. Their relationship was still so fragile, so new.
Still. She’d not allow that worry to keep her from doing what was right. “We’ll figure that out after we stop the auction.”
“You need to return to your husband’s house. I will…” He paused raking a hand down his face. “I will come up with an answer for Gabriella.”
Both women drew in a sharp breath.
“You?” Gabriella asked.
“Van—” She always called him Vanity. But in this moment, the name didn’t seem appropriate.
His grey eyes met hers. “Austin Melrose.”
“Austin,” Gabriella repeated, her voice trembling.
Vanity looked back at the other woman, his face hard and unreadable. “I have to return the baroness home, but I’ll be back for you very shortly.”
Gabriella straightened and for a moment Abigail thought the woman might argue, but with a quick nod, she let go of Abigail’s hand. “Thank you, Austin Melrose.”
Abigail reached for Vanity’s arm. “Let’s hurry.”
* * *
Chad drew in a deep breath of air, marveling at how beautiful the day was. He was on his way to the village, walking along the wooded road, to meet his wife for lunch. After they’d dined, he’d like nothing more than to have her show him all the pieces she bought, perhaps model a few of them for him.
Desire rumbled through him, and just thinking of her in a partial state of dress made his stomach tighten.
The rumble of a carriage on the road made him straighten. It seemed to be moving quickly. The vehicle came into view and he realized that it was in fact going very fast and that it was his carriage.
Fear skittered along his spine. Was something wrong with his wife?
He raised his hands, flagging the carriage, and the driver pulled the vehicle to a stop.
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