Bride Who Fell in Love with Her Husband

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “Are most men so big?”

  Thomas groaned under her hand. “I suspect there are many different sizes . . .”

  She nodded. “From what I have heard, sometimes wealth is the only sizable possession a man can boast about.” She bit her lip, realizing how scandalous such a comment was. The tension eased after she looked into his eyes and realized her husband was not the least bit shocked by her candor.

  “Miss Eva would be disappointed in me,” she said. “She once scolded me for threatening to castrate the duke. She would find this topic well outside the boundaries of what is proper.”

  “Miss Eva adores you, Rose,” Thomas countered. “I saw her affection for you and the other young ladies. She would never scold you for words spoken privately between us.”

  “Still, I should learn to curb my outspoken nature, lest it get me into trouble.” She looked down at his erection. Clearly the topic had not put him off his desire for her. She moved her hand up the length of him. The thought of him inside her caused a tingle between her legs. “I think it’s time to end my exploration.”

  A low groan followed. Thomas bent to lift her into his arms. Rose snuggled against him as he carried her to the bed. He eased her down on the coverlet and took a place beside her.

  Thomas kissed her gently before moving downward. He kissed her breasts and tugged the nipples between his teeth. Rose whimpered when his hand slid down between her legs. He teased her to her release.

  Not knowing what was expected next, she waited. Thomas rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “Straddle me,” he said. When she complied, he guided himself inside her. “With you astride, I know you will not be counting cracks in the plaster.”

  Rose flushed. “It was a cobweb, and it helped distract me from the mating.”

  He brushed back her hair. “I do not want you distracted, Rose. I want your full participation.”

  She nodded. “I thought being agreeable was all that was expected of a wife. I was mistaken.” She wriggled and felt his erection twitch inside her. Her husband groaned deep. She paused and looked into his eyes. The passion he felt for her was reflected there. It made her feel powerful, desirable.

  She slid up and down his erection. The position teased parts of her of which she’d been previously unaware. Her interest was fully on the coupling. She had no interest in cobwebs or cracks.

  He cupped her buttocks, adjusting her movement and speed as she rode him. She found if she tipped her hips forward, the motion scraped the bud between her legs against him in just the right way. She rocked and sighed, her pleasure mounting. Thomas played with her breasts and tugged her nipples until she cried out. He reclaimed her hips and drove himself deep inside her until he found his own release.

  Rose collapsed on his chest.

  The rapid clip of his heartbeat brought a smile. She turned her face to place a few kisses on his skin. His hands caressed her, from her buttocks up her back, then tangled in her hair.

  “That is what true pleasure is, love,” he said, and claimed a slow, deep, and delightful kiss.

  When she broke the kiss, she let out a soft sigh and ran a hand down his chest. “Never again will I count cracks.”

  Thomas chuckled and rolled her onto her back.

  * * * *

  Rose breathed softly beside him, her face partially hidden in her tangled hair. He ran his fingertips down her spine and she twitched in her sleep. Clearly, he’d found a ticklish spot.

  He pressed his lips to the top of her head, satisfied their evening had been more than he’d hoped.

  Gone was the pretense of false passion. Every sound, every moment of pleasure, had been real for her. She’d been fully engaged in the moment.

  Leaving her to lead the seduction, he’d left her to discover her passionate side.

  And sometime after, when she’d been sprawled on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, he’d realized that he was falling deeply in love with his beautiful wife.

  What a turn. A lark had taken him to the matching party. Their courtship should have progressed slowly, but there had been another man equally smitten and he’d had to make a decision. He chose marriage. It had been the first truly impulsive act of his life.

  He cared not that his mother hated Rose. In a few weeks she’d be gone from London to return to her dowager house until the next Season. By then, Rose would be confident in her role as his wife. She was no wilting lily.

  The light from the fire flickered and his eye caught sight of several bright yellow and orange feathers atop her dressing table. He pushed up onto his elbows and saw that, though partially covered by a scarf, the feathers were part of a hat of many colors.

  Instantly, he knew that the hat was not something Miss Eva would approve of, nor would it be acceptable to wear when out strolling with one’s husband. It was a courtesan’s hat, meant to draw the eyes of wealthy men to the woman beneath . . . men who would pay well for a woman like Rose.

  His stomach knotted. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Why had Rose kept the hat? She’d married him, promised to share his life, but had she truly committed herself to this marriage? To him? Had he misread the affection she’d displayed tonight?

  She shifted and he pushed aside his concerns, for the moment. He would revisit them when he could see things with a clearer mind, not with his naked wife lying beside him.

  “I will be put out if you consider returning to your room,” Rose grumbled. “This bed is cold without you.”

  Thomas lifted a curl and saw her eye was partially open. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was. Your hand on my breast woke me.” A slow, seductive smile crossed her lips. “I find I am no longer sleepy.”

  Chapter Five

  For a fourth time in just over a week, Jonathan, Will, and Byron arrived in time to break their fast with the family. Thomas frowned over their arrival. He had explained to Rose that his friends lived in bachelor apartments near Mayfair and stopped in occasionally for a good meal with friends. Their continued presence, however, pushed the boundaries of hospitality, and his patience.

  Will and Jonathan loved to flirt. Rose saw them as innocent charmers. Still, Thomas glared at Jonathan and Will as they fought over the chair beside her.

  “Their visits were once limited to three or four times a month,” he grumbled. “As you can see, your arrival has brought the cockroaches out of hiding.”

  His uncertainty about her commitment to him had not eased with daylight and a clearer perspective. He could not forget that ridiculous hat and what it symbolized. Having his friends flirt with his wife only added to his frustration. Although he knew his concerns were irrational, he was not entirely confident of her commitment to him and the marriage. And he hated the thought of losing her, for the simplest and most troubling reason of all: He was falling in love with his wife.

  Rose squeezed his fingers, her eyes warm on his. “They are merely lonely for female companionship. They will tire of their flirtation and move on to newer pastures.”

  Thomas knew Will and Jonathan were harmless. It was other men, wealthy and powerful men, who posed the biggest threat.

  He wanted to trust Rose. But could he?

  * * * *

  Her assurance didn’t keep Thomas from grumbling as Jonathan and Will slobbered—as Thomas put it—over her. Rose accepted their compliments with patience and kept the conversation on the weather and Parliament, anything but her hair, her face, her fine figure. As the meal came to a close, she noticed two things: Thomas was at the end of his patience, and Byron had spent most of the meal sending covert glances at Priscilla.

  This was an interesting turn. Did Priscilla know of his interest? Did the baroness?

  The latter was unlikely. She probably saw very little through her narrowed lids as she glared at both T
homas’s exuberant friends and Rose.

  However, it was not the baroness who held her attention. Rose’s best hope to match Priscilla was right in front of her. Byron would not get away.

  Though the girl was controlled by her mother, there were moments when they were alone when Priscilla had been kind to Rose. This gave Rose hope for establishing a closer relationship with her.If this plan worked, it might further help nudge them in that direction.

  Rose missed her friends at the courtesan school. Having Pricilla to share confidences and fun would go far to ease her need for female companionship.

  Speaking with Byron privately proved to be a challenge. It took two more visits before she managed to catch him alone. Once she had her moment, it proved quite easy to get him to agree to call later that day, without his two friends. His eyes had brightened when she told him Priscilla would be present.

  With his agreement in place, she went to find Thomas in his office. A quick explanation of her intentions caused him to frown.

  “You are treading in a muddy pit, love,” he said. “Mother will not be pleased with your plans to matchmake.”

  “That is why I have chosen today. I know your mother is taking tea with Mrs. Peabody this afternoon. Prudence has her weekly visit with the orphans, leaving Priscilla free to accept a caller.”

  Thomas dropped his pen in the inkwell and knitted his fingertips together. He stared solemnly at Rose. “Are you certain Priscilla will accept your interference? She is a spinster. Perhaps she enjoys a life without a husband. Have you considered this when plotting her future?”

  Rose shook her head. “I’ve seen the novels she sneaks home from the bookstore when your mother isn’t looking. They are filled with love and romance. If anyone is ripe to be plucked by a kind and fine-looking fellow like your Mr. Byron, it is she. She just needs a push in his direction.”

  Sighing, Thomas reclaimed the pen. “I hope you know what you are doing, Rose.”

  Pleased with his support, however reluctant, Rose rounded the desk and pressed a kiss on his temple. “Later, I shall thank you properly.”

  Leaving him to contemplate her seductive promise, she left the office and went off in search of Priscilla.

  * * * *

  “You are mistaken,” Priscilla protested after Rose explained her idea of having Byron to call upon them. “Byron has never shown the slightest attraction to me.”

  “He’s shy,” Rose said. She walked to her wardrobe and began a search for a perfect dress for Priscilla. “I have seen the way he looks at you. He is clearly smitten.”

  “Byron is not shy. Quiet perhaps.” Priscilla stopped pacing. “I have known him for most of my life. If he’d cared for me all this time, he would have come forward before I dried up.”

  Rose lowered the dress she was examining and stared at Priscilla. “You are certainly not dried up. Dusty perhaps, but still young enough to be dusted off and matched with a very handsome suitor. That is, unless you do not share his affection . . . ?”

  Dropping onto the bed, Priscilla sighed and twirled a loose blond curl at her temple. “I do find him handsome. Still, I am too old for fanciful thoughts of love. You must send round a note and cancel the call.”

  “I certainly will not, and you are not old.” Rose walked to the bed. “Stand up. I think the blue would look very pretty on you.”

  The older girl appeared scandalized as she stared at the bright blue dress. “You cannot expect me to wear that? If Mother found out, she’d whip us both.”

  “Nonsense.” Rose held the dress against Priscilla. “You are old enough to decide your own fate, and your mother has no say over what you do. Find your spine, sister. We are changing your future. You must reach for it before your chance is lost.”

  Priscilla groaned. “This is a mistake.”

  Rose laid the dress on the bed and put her hands on her hips. “You have to the count of ten to decide. Are you a hawk or a mouse?” She tapped her toe and began to count. When she reached eight, Priscilla’s answer came in a garbled mumble. “Please speak clearly.”

  “A hawk.” Priscilla sighed. “I am a hawk.”

  Pleased, Rose took her hands. “Excellent. We will wait until the baroness and Prudence have left, then call for the maid. I know you will be satisfied with your decision.”

  Priscilla nodded reluctantly. She released Rose’s fingers and met her gaze. “Why are you doing this for me, Rose? I have not welcomed you into the family as I should have.”

  For a moment Rose considered Priscilla’s words, then said honestly, “I hope we can become friends. I do want your happiness.”

  Obvious surprise overtook Priscilla. “Friends?”

  Rose nodded. “If you agree.” She watched Priscilla for clues to her thoughts, ready to accept rejection if it came.

  Instead Priscilla smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Three hours later, Priscilla was dressed in the blue day dress with her hair upswept in a fetching twist. Despite the happy moment, she rather looked like she was walking off a pirate’s plank to her death.

  “Do not look so grim,” Rose urged as she led Priscilla downstairs. “Byron will think we have suffered a death in the family.”

  Priscilla tried to smile but managed only a grimace.

  Before Rose could coach her further, Thomas stepped into the hallway. He froze, his eyes wide. “Priscilla?” He looked from her to Rose and back again. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Priscilla managed a genuine smile, though her eyes narrowed when they fell on Rose. “Rose made me do this. She is very strong-willed.”

  Thomas nodded. “I’ve found it is easier to let her have her way than to fight her.”

  Rose frowned. “If this afternoon goes well, I expect vigorous thank-yous from both of you.”

  A knock sounded. Priscilla startled. The butler went to answer the door while Rose quickly ushered Priscilla past her brother and into the parlor. “Calm, Priscilla, stay calm,” she implored as she settled the poor girl on the settee. “You have known Byron forever. Certainly you have spoken before.”

  “About the weather and Parliament,” Priscilla countered.

  Rose turned as Byron and Thomas joined them. “Byron, how good of you to accept our invitation. You know Priscilla.” She stepped aside, giving him a direct view of the coiffed and pretty young woman.

  He gaped. Rose sent Thomas a smug smile.

  “P-Priscilla?” He stopped and took a breath. He continued, “You look beautiful. I have never seen you in blue.”

  Priscilla flushed under his intense regard. “It is my new favorite color.”

  Like a proud parent, Rose grinned. The rest of the visit had moments of awkwardness, though Rose and Thomas did their best to keep the conversation lively. By the time Byron stood to take his leave, he was clearly smitten. Priscilla had a light in her eyes Rose hadn’t seen before as she watched Byron and Thomas walk from the room.

  When their footsteps faded, Priscilla spun around. “I think that went well. Do you think it went well?”

  Rose nodded. “I believe so.” She laughed when Priscilla did a little dance around the room.

  * * * *

  When Byron asked to call on Priscilla the next afternoon, Thomas put him off. There was no need to tempt fate. “I will take Rose and Priscilla to Hyde Park tomorrow. It will lessen the chance that Mother will discover your courtship and intervene. You can meet us at the entrance at two o’clock.”

  Byron nodded. He paused, then faced Thomas. “If you’d prefer I didn’t court your sister, please speak up. I care for her, but would not want to ruin our friendship. You are like a brother to me.”

  Thomas considered teasing him, then thought better of it. Rose would murder him if he caused Byron to cry off. “My sister’s happiness is important to me, as is
yours. If you find it together, it will please me to welcome you, officially, into my family.”

  Byron grinned. “You are a good friend.”

  Thomas clapped him on the back and led him to the door. He tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder until Byron winced. “However, if you ever hurt her, I will kill you.”

  Satisfied with Byron’s shocked expression, he ushered his friend onto the steps and closed the door in his face.

  * * * *

  The evening meal was fascinating. Priscilla carried most of the conversation, while her mother and sister watched her with open dismay as she flitted from topic to topic like a bee flying from flower to flower. She was dressed again in white and showed no outward sign of having spent time with Byron. Still, the change in her was evident.

  “You have done something today, daughter, and I’d like to know what it is,” the baroness pressed. “I heard you humming in the parlor earlier.”

  Priscilla faltered for a moment, looked to Rose for strength, and shrugged. “Why should I not be happy on such a pretty day, Mother? Thomas has found happiness, so I have decided to follow his example and look for my own. I hope you and Prudence will follow it as well.”

  Thomas’s brows went up and he glanced at Rose. His expression was thoughtful.

  The defiance in Priscilla’s tone clearly displeased her mother. “You know you cannot keep secrets from me, daughter. There is more to this than seeking happiness. I will discover the truth soon enough.”

  Rose worried that Priscilla would crumple and bit her bottom lip. But Priscilla remained strong. Through the attention of Byron, and the encouragement of herself and Thomas, Priscilla had found courage. She faced her mother fully and didn’t falter.

  “I am twenty-six, Mother, and no longer a child. What I do is my affair.” She dropped her napkin onto the table and walked from the room with the bearing of a queen.

  The baroness turned on Rose.

  “You are responsible for this. Ever since you came here, you have disrupted this household. Now my daughter has become sharp-tongued and disrespectful. I place the blame squarely on you.” The baroness’s accusation weighed heavy in the room.