by Ava Stone
Brendan chuckled. “My adventurous wife.”
She stood from her seat and lightly touched her lips to his. “Hmm.”
His arms wrapped around her waist. “Are you ready, love? Wilson has the coach prepared.”
Cordie shook her head. “In a minute. Let me just put my hair up.”
He took a handful of her hair and brought it to his nose. “Leave it unbound.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she nodded anyway.
As they left the little inn, Cordie’s heart leapt. As peaceful and idyllic as she found Scotland, she was anxious to see her new home. Her new family. She climbed inside the coach with Brendan right on her heels. He pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her neck, making her giggle.
Cradled in her husband’s arms, Cordie had never felt so loved or so safe. She was still unsure how things had turned out so well for her, though she didn’t want to question her good fortune. She just wanted to enjoy it.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “we really should have a talk.”
Cordie tipped her head back to see him, as uneasiness spread through her. Why did they need to have a talk? Everything seemed so perfect. “What about?”
“One of the things I most love about you is your adventurous spirit, but… Well, you’re my wife now.”
She pursed her lips. “And you want to make me a prisoner.”
“You have quite a way of looking at things,” he answered with a frown. “I only want to keep you safe.”
“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions,” she said, scrambling off his lap.
His arms tightened around her and he pulled her back. “Don’t run away from me.”
“Let me go!”
“Not until you listen to me.” Then he kissed her temple and softened his voice. “Back in London, you nearly stopped my heart on more than one occasion. You recklessly went about Town with no concern for your safety, and I can’t allow that. If something happened to you…”
Cordie folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. She was not reckless… Well, not most of the time.
He cleared his throat. “We’re lucky no one else knows of your antics. If they did, your reputation would not be salvageable.”
He sounded just like her mother. Cordie shook her head. “I don’t care what people think, Brendan. I’m not going to live my life afraid of what others might think of me. Just so you know, I intend to resume my friendship with the Duchess of Kelfield, and there’s not a thing you can do to stop me. Olivia is my oldest and dearest friend, and I’m not willing to give her up.”
~ 28 ~
Brendan gaped at his wife. What was that about? He didn’t care if she was friends with the Duchess of Kelfield. The girl was Robert and Caroline’s cousin, after all. He’d insist Cordie stay away from the Duke of Kelfield’s friends—the Marquess of Haversham, in particular—but he didn’t mind the duchess at all.
“All right,” he said cautiously. Who knew what might set her off, and he was intent on calming her. They had a long ride ahead of them, and he’d rather not spend it arguing.
Cordie narrowed her green eyes on him. “All right? That’s all you have to say?”
What was he supposed to say? What was she expecting? “I don’t have a problem with Her Grace. Some of Kelfield’s compatriots are a different matter, but I’ve always found the duchess to be a generous lady.”
Whatever retort his wife had planned for him died on her tongue. Then she sagged against him. “You don’t care if I’m friends with Livvie?”
“Not if you don’t care that I’m friends with Astwick.”
A laugh escaped Cordie’s throat.
“You laugh. He’s quite irritating.” Was she worried about the Duchess of Kelfield all along? He wished she’d have said something. He could have put her mind at ease weeks ago. “Cordie, why would you think I’d keep you from your friends?”
She swallowed, then closed her eyes as if she was in pain. “Mother wouldn’t let me see her after she married Kelfield, and ever since I’ve been all alone. Not completely. I mean, Phoebe has been a wonderful friend and I’m thrilled Tristan and Russell have returned from France unscathed. But…” She heaved a sigh. “I’ve known Livvie since before we could walk. She’s always been in my life and I in hers. It’s been an awful strain. I felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest.”
“My love, I am not your mother,” he said, the memories of his wife’s scars fresh in his mind making his words harsher than he would have liked.
“Well, Captain Seaton was adamant I wouldn’t maintain our friendship either.”
Who the devil was that? “Captain Seaton?”
“He was my fiancé.”
Brendan’s body tightened and his mouth fell open. “Fiancé?” Why was this the first he was hearing about Captain Seaton, for God’s sake?
“Well, not anymore,” she quickly clarified.
“I should say not.” She was his wife after all. “Can I expect to be called out in the same fashion as Kelfield?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever get that image out of his mind. Both Major Moore and the duke were emotional disasters over the duchess.
Cordie shook her head. “Not the same thing. Technically, we were never engaged. I determined what sort of dictatorial husband he intended to be before our plans were finalized, and I cried off. He never even spoke with Gregory on the matter.”
A moment of clarity engulfed Brendan. All of this was why she’d fought so hard to keep herself from him. The quandary she’d spoken of. She’d loved him, but was afraid he’d treat her the way her mother did and Captain Seaton would have. What a fool the captain was to have lost her, a mistake Brendan wouldn’t make.
He caressed his wife’s cheek. “If you want to resume your friendship with Her Grace, you have my blessing. You have my name, Cordie. If an association with us helps the duchess in society, I’m more than willing to give it.”
“You are?” she asked, looking hopefully into his eyes.
Did she think he was an ogre? “Cordie, I dashed from Bayhurst Court when Caroline Staveley summoned me for her rather impromptu ball in honor of the Kelfields. If I didn’t shy away then, why would I do so now?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she said. Then she shook her head. “But you said you didn’t have a choice. I remember, because at the time I thought it was a rather unkind thing to say in front of Livvie.”
Brendan rested his head against the leather squabs. “‘Your stodgy presence is required to lend Livvie an air of respectability.’ Those were the words my dear friend Caroline Staveley used to beg me to Town. My irritation that evening was directed at her, not your friend.”
“Oh,” his wife said softly.
“She’s a good friend?” he asked, glad his wife didn’t seem angry with him anymore.
“Very.”
“I’m sorry you were kept from her.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Cordie. I would never do that to you.”
“Thank you.” Then she smiled shyly at him. “I’ll try to be a dutiful wife.”
She would try to be a dutiful wife. Brendan bit back a smile. As far as concessions went, it wasn’t much. But where Cordie Clayworth was concerned, it was an enormous coup. “I’m a very lucky man.”
“Are you?” she asked quietly.
“Hmm,” he answered, winking at his bride. “The first time I met you, I wanted to kiss every inch of you. And now I can do so whenever I want.”
She laughed and pushed away from him. “Lady Staveley’s ball was not the first time you met me.”
She had said they’d met before, hadn’t she? He’d somehow forgotten that. “When did I first meet you then?”
“At your wedding breakfast. Eleanor was Marina’s maid of honor. We were all there.”
His eyes widened. That was thirteen years ago. No wonder he didn’t remember her. “Good God, Cordie, how old were you?”
“Seven. And I remember thinking at the time that you reminded me
of a golden haired fairy tale prince.”
Seven? Brendan winced. He’d robbed the cradle. Literally. “I’d prefer to think we met at Staveley’s, if you don’t mind.”
“You don’t want to think about Marina’s connection to my family,” she said understandingly.
Marina’s connection to the Averys. If she hadn’t been close to them, if she hadn’t given them his mother’s damning letters, he’d have never pursued Cordie. In a strange way of thinking, it was the only gift Marina had ever given him. Brendan shook his head. “No, I’d just prefer not to think that my bride was seven when I married the first time. It makes me feel old.”
She laughed.
He loved her laugh. The way she sounded so carefree and lighthearted was like a balm for his soul. He would never tire of the sound. Still she was laughing at him. “Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten, my darling wife. I know very well that you think I’m old and stodgy.”
“You are thirty-five, already with one foot in the grave,” she teased.
Brendan slid her from his lap and edged Cordie towards the other end of the bench. Then he stalked towards her before she could bolt, not that there was any place she could hide from him inside their coach. In the blink of an eye, he had her trapped beneath him, ruthlessly tickling her sides until she begged him between squeals of laughter to stop.
His hands stilled, settling on her waist and he kissed her. She opened instantly for him, and their tongues touched, nearly melding together. Cordie’s hand slowly slid down, until she cupped his ass, making him groan against her mouth, wanting her, needing her all over again. “How sore are you?” he growled.
She grinned. “Is that what you were asking this morning? You should have been more clear, Brendan. I was sore, but not that sore.”
A mistake he wouldn’t make again. He reached for the hem of her ball gown, and began edging it up her leg, a rakish smile on his face the whole while.
Cordie’s mesmerizing green eyes widened in surprise. “Not in here.” She slapped at his hands.
“Why not?” he asked, ignoring her blows and tugging her skirts to her waist.
“W-well,” she gulped. “There’s Wilson for one thing.”
Brendan chuckled. “Wilson won’t hear us, and if he does, he values his employment too much to mention it.” He untied her drawers and kissed her neck.
“B-but in a coach?” she continued. “Is that even possible?”
His lips moved to her earlobe, where he nibbled. “I assure you it is.”
“Oh, Brendan!” Cordie moaned.
He slid her drawers from her legs and made quick work with the buttons of his trousers. His cock sprang free, hard and straining, anxious for the soft, feminine folds nestled between her legs. With his knees, he nudged Cordie’s legs wide, with one of them falling over the edge of the bench.
Gently, he ran a finger along her warm feminine folds, thanking God she was already wet and waiting for him. The heady scent of woman, his woman, filled the space between them and he reached for his cock, guiding himself to her swollen entrance. He pushed inside her and his head fell back. A guttural sound escaped his throat as her warmth closed around him. Her arms slid around his waist, pulling him closer.
Her core melted as he slowly pressed deeper, the warm honey of her essence coating him, pushing him to the edge. It took all of his strength not to pour himself into in her that very instant, but he wanted their pleasure to last beyond just a moment. He braced his hands on the wall of the coach for purchase and started his slow, deliberate torture.
Cordie’s eyes fluttered closed until he ran his tongue along the creamy skin of her breast, dipped to tease a rosy nipple out of hiding. Her eyes flew open and she started, clenched her legs around him in response. He covered her face and neck with kisses, whispering words of love and encouragement with each thrust. Her breath came in pants as he rocked them towards climax. He clasped her to him as they found their release, not wanting to leave the intimacy of their joining.
The rocking carriage was more arousing than soothing, and within a short time Brendan found himself as hard and wanting as a man in the first throes of manhood. It was only concern for her newly aroused femininity that had him withdrawing and cradling her while she slept.
***
Somehow, Cordie slept through the remainder of the day, and only awoke when Brendan laid her across a bed at an inn. She’d had the most wonderful dreams all afternoon, each of them ending the same, wrapped in her husband’s arms.
“Are you still tired?” Brendan whispered.
She shouldn’t be, not with all the sleep she’d gotten. Still, she could barely find the energy to answer him. “Uh-huh,” she said dreamily.
He chuckled as he kissed her cheek. “My sleeping beauty. Do you want to stay in your gown? Or sleep in your chemise?”
Cordie blinked her eyes open, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “No more nightrails you’ve charmed out of innkeepers?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ve only been successful at charming you today, love.”
She returned his smile. “I am glad to hear it. I don’t like the idea of maids all across England falling in love with my husband, trying to woo him with their nightrails.”
Brendan dropped on the bed beside her, and cradled her against him. “If anyone deserves to be jealous, Cordie, it’s me. In the last fortnight, you’ve received two marriage proposals—both right in front of me, I might add—and just today I learned you had a fiancé. We’re going to have to do something about your proclivity for attracting men.”
“I received three marriage proposals,” she corrected him with a giggle. “Brookfield’s, yours, and then Haversham’s. But the marquess wasn’t sincere.”
“How do you know?” his voice sounded strangled.
“Because he’d just agreed to take me home before you barged in and punched him in the nose. Poor fellow.”
Brendan growled, deep in his chest. “Blackguard deserved more than that.”
“He only asked me so that it would seem like I had a choice. But he knew I’d never pick him. He knew I loved you.”
“You told him?” Brendan asked with wonder.
Cordie shook her head. “He guessed. When I couldn’t…” She couldn’t finish that sentence. What a mistake she’d nearly made. Thank heaven Brendan had found her, had whisked her off to Scotland.
“I’d prefer not to think about the scoundrel. From now on I want to be the only man in your thoughts,” her husband whispered in her ear, before rolling her onto her back. Then he made love to her over and over again.
~ 29 ~
Cordie stared out the coach window with anxious anticipation, as her new home grew ever closer. Bayhurst Court, a sandstone Tudor mansion, stood proudly against a backdrop of Derbyshire’s rolling hills. She looked back at her husband over her shoulder, to see him smiling at her.
“You’ll love it,” he told her again.
“And you’re sure they’ll like me?” she asked for the hundredth time.
Brendan nodded. “Why are you so worried?”
How could she explain it to him? “Well, they’re your family…and I’ve never met them, but suddenly I’m one of them, and I...”
“I’ve never met your brother, Lord Avery.”
Cordie shrugged. As if Gregory would care one way or the other. He’d just be glad she wasn’t publicly ruined. “It’s not the same thing, Brendan. We aren’t going to live with my family.”
“Rose and Thomas are your family now, Cordie. And they’re going to love you. I promise.”
As if on cue, the carriage rambled to a stop on the drive. Brendan gave her a quick kiss, then she took a steadying breath before Wilson opened the door. Her husband stepped out first and then offered her his arm. Cordie glanced up, stumbled slightly as her knees went weak. An entire household staff littered the front lawn.
“Did they know we were coming?”
Brendan quirked a grin. “I sent a no
te from Gretna Green. It probably arrived a few days ago, as the mail coach didn’t stop along the way like we did.”
Cordie blushed, remembering their stops. Each inn where her husband made passionate love to her. Brendan winked at her, and Cordie felt certain he was remembering the same things she was at the moment.
“Uncle!” a boy shouted, running towards them. He was a handsome boy with light brown hair, and Brendan’s twilight eyes. He stopped short before he reached them, furrowing his brow.
“Thomas,” Brendan greeted his nephew with a smile. “Allow me to present my wife, Cordelia, the Countess of Clayworth. Cordie love, this is Thomas.”
Thomas Reese bowed slightly. “My lady.”
She nodded to the boy and smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you, Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“He looked surprised at her words. “Thank you.” Then he looked at Brendan. “Uncle, if you have a moment, I need to speak with you.”
“Is she here?” screeched a voice from inside the house. Cordie froze to her spot, as she recognized it instantly.
So did Brendan. His handsome face turned at once to a scowl. “Lady Avery is here?” he asked his nephew.
Thomas glanced first at Cordie and then at his uncle before nodding. “And her sons.”
Cordie’s eyes flew to the front of the manor house. Her mother was here? Her brothers? She felt faint, but Brendan’s arm snaked around her waist. “Breathe, love. We knew we’d have to face them sooner or later.”
She had been hoping for never, but before she could respond, her mother bolted from the house. “You ungrateful child!” she wailed, causing the staff assembled on the lawn to all draw a collective breath.
“My dear mother-in-law,” Brendan called smoothly over the crowd. “We are so pleased you have come to visit.”
He really was an excellent liar. Her mother stopped in her tracks, though she glared at Cordie. “Thank you for your generosity, Lord Clayworth,” she clipped out.