Lord Garson’s Bride

by Anna Campbell

  It was a step forward, but he was experienced—and perceptive—enough to know that fear outweighed her curiosity. Slowly he tilted forward and cupped the base of her skull to steady her for his kiss.

  He placed his lips on hers. She made a sound of shock, and he felt her lean away, but she didn’t pull free.

  As he’d told her, she’d always been brave.

  The thought filled him with powerful tenderness, so when he gently sucked her bottom lip and drew away, his care came from the heart and not strategy. She didn’t protest, although her hands clenched in the sheet that covered her to the hips.

  His taste of her had been so fleeting, yet a flood of impressions fueled his senses. Her soft mouth. The sweetness of her flavor, enriched with heady notes of claret. The light floral scent, which proved surprisingly alluring.

  His hand tightened in her hair and this time, he lingered until her lips fluttered against his. Satisfaction roared through him, and he deepened the kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue. A shudder ran through her, and she pushed back against his hold.

  Never had Garson been so conscious of a woman’s responses. He counted the changes in Jane across each breath. He was profoundly aware that what happened now determined the shape of the rest of his life.

  And hers.

  She raised a shaking hand to her lips. The candlelight glinted on her wedding ring. “That was…odd.”

  He hid a smile. Instinct told him Jane might take it badly if she thought he was laughing at her. “Did you like it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Shall we try again?”

  Her gaze was uncertain. “If you like.”

  Oh, he liked, by God.

  This time, he set his hands on either side of her head. When he kissed her, Jane’s essence flooded his senses. Her scent made his head swim, and that spectacular hair was a warm tumble over his hands.

  He put his arms around her, pulling her across his lap. After what felt like an eon, her lips tentatively moved to answer his. The soft sounds she made conveyed burgeoning pleasure—and a surprise to match his own.

  When she caught his shoulders, her touch shuddered through him. He slicked the tip of his tongue across the closed seam of her lips.

  Garson broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “Jane, let me into your mouth.”

  “Into…”

  She looked so adorably confused that he felt a rush of aching tenderness. It mixed awkwardly with his rising hunger.

  He swooped before she mustered any resistance. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and at last he tasted her fully. When he flicked his tongue against hers, she made another of those astoundingly arousing sounds. When she slid her tongue against his, wild satisfaction flooded him.

  As the kiss burst into flame, she gave a husky moan. Another shudder of gratification shook him, as she buried her fingers in his hair and brought him closer.

  He angled her until she was flat on her back, and he kneeled over her. The heavy silk of his dressing gown rubbed against his throbbing cock and threatened to make him spill. But damn it, when he found release, he wanted to be inside his wife.

  Still kissing her, Garson placed one hand on her breast and squeezed. Even through the nightdress, he felt the exquisite roundness. The nipple jutted impudently into his palm. He caught the brazen peak between his thumb and forefinger and pinched softly, cursing the nameless bastard who had invented flannel. She gave a muffled squeak against his lips and lurched up toward him in welcome.

  Then every damn thing in the whole wide world went wrong.

  *

  Chapter Eight

  *

  Jane battled to stay enmeshed in sensual bliss. When Hugh first kissed her, the unfamiliarity of what he did left her reeling. Then she reeled because she’d never known anything as intoxicating as the pressure of his lips on hers.

  How amazing that a kiss could heat every inch of her. When he began, she just felt disturbed and needy. Then the heat became more specific, weighting her belly and waking a restless craving in the secret hollows of her body.

  Barely had she found her balance in this incendiary new universe when he changed the game yet again.

  He’d licked her. It sounded so bizarre. But in practice, it was… It was like someone set a blazing torch to dry tinder. That yearning sensation intensified, and her heart pounded hard and heavy, shaking her with every beat.

  He kissed and kissed her, as if he fed off her. She lost all contact with the Jane she’d been before and verged on becoming Hugh’s creature, quaking and grasping. Natural caution made her retreat from the brink, even as she kissed Hugh back with all the untried passion she’d had no idea existed within her.

  Natural caution whispered one unwelcome word. A name. A ghost. A curse.

  Morwenna.

  Hugh laid her down on the bed and rose over her. Even in her innocence, she couldn’t mistake what was about to happen.

  She arched up to meet him, struggling to silence that insidious voice. Hugh had married her to have children. She owed him the use of her body. It would be cowardly—and dishonorable—to draw back now.

  Morwenna.

  Over and over, that name played in her mind, no matter how she fought to block it out.

  Hugh’s powerful form dominated hers as he shifted closer. She felt utterly consumed in his animal appetite. He was hot and strong, and ready to do his duty.

  Duty was another unwelcome word, although surely that was all that held them together.

  Jane strained toward him. He didn’t appear to notice the desperation creeping into her responses. Or if he did, it didn’t make him pause.

  One large hand landed on the breast no man had ever touched. She tensed against a liquid surge deep inside her. Was this arousal? When she yielded to her husband, she’d expected something swift but measured. Pain, if Susan was right. An invitation to participate in actions that might seem strange and perhaps repugnant.

  She hadn’t expected to be swept away into an ocean of temptation. An ocean likely to close over her head and drown her.

  He squeezed her breast, and her nipple tightened into a tingling point. Unfamiliar forces battered her from all sides. It was all too much.

  She made a distressed sound against his lips and stiffened in his hold.

  An instant longer, his hand remained heavy on her breast, before he heaved himself to the side with a guttural groan. His eyes fastened on the ceiling, while she remained on her back and gulped for her first full breath in what felt like hours. Searing tears pricked her eyes. His scent suffocated her. Hot, male musk.

  “I’m sorry, Jane.” His voice was so gravelly, it emerged as a growl. “I went too far too fast.”

  She rose on one elbow to study him. His massive chest heaved as he sucked in air. The loose dressing gown allowed shadowy glimpses of dark curls across his chest.

  He looked like a ruffled Zeus. Massive. Virile. Omnipotent.

  His thick hair was untidy, and one coffee-colored lock tumbled over his noble forehead. In some men that might add a boyish touch. Not in Hugh.

  Almost convulsively her gaze ran over him. Now she’d touched him, she knew how strong those shoulders were and how his body covered hers when he lifted himself over her. Even as she told herself to stop, her attention traveled downward. Over his flat stomach to where the part that he would thrust into her rose hard and insistent against his belly. There was hair down there as well. She bit her lip and couldn’t help staring, even as she wondered how it was physically possible for something so large to fit inside her.

  When she looked up, she realized he’d shifted his attention from the ceiling to her. A slant of one eyebrow mocked her imprudent curiosity. A painful blush flooded her cheeks when he tugged the rich crimson silk across his legs, restoring his dignity, if not hers.

  Jane flopped back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Both she and Hugh seemed to find it of surpassing interest. The tumult in her blood gradually subsided, leaving a bitte
r residue of shame.

  Not at what they’d done, but at her timidity. And her inability to forget that he wished he lay with someone else.

  “I’m sorry, too.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “I shirked my duty.”

  His grunt indicated disgust and irritation in equal measure. “I began to hope that there might be more than duty between us.”

  “You must try again,” she said, even as something inside her shrank from the idea. “I promised to be your wife in every sense.”

  He leaned over her, until she couldn’t avoid those searching dark eyes. “I know you did, but it’s been a long, difficult day, and I wasn’t as…careful as I might have been.”

  Her lips tightened, as she steeled herself to venture back into that strange world she’d entered tonight for the first time. “You’re my husband. You have rights over my body.”

  Those thick brows lowered over his blade of a nose, and he sat up against the headboard. “Spoken like a right little martyr.”

  She flinched. “I don’t know what you want.”

  Which wasn’t quite true. She’d recognized his increasing interest. If she’d held her nerve, he’d even now be pushing inside her, and she’d be a virgin no more.

  He remained displeased. A displeased King of Olympus was a daunting prospect, especially when only a layer of silk covered his nakedness.

  “More than I thought I did, it seems. Those kisses got me devilish excited, Jane.”

  She hid another wince, even as some wanton part of her relished his praise. “I didn’t…I didn’t know kissing could be like that.”

  He looked shocked. “You’ve never been kissed before?”

  “Who would I kiss?” Her lips turned down in self-derision as she sat beside him. She felt at too much of a disadvantage lying flat on her back. “Mr. Jones the bailiff? Billings the butler?”

  His disbelief didn’t fade. “I thought perhaps at some assembly or house party.”

  “I told you my life has been quiet. Now and again, I went to dinner with the neighbors, but there was never much chance for flirtation.”

  “Yet you said you’d had a proposal or two.”

  She gave an unamused laugh. “Old men looking for a nurse and a housekeeper. No flirtation was required.”

  “What a waste.”

  She shrugged, while the lonely years of toil and obligation pressed down and threatened to crush her. “A girl can live without kisses.”

  “She shouldn’t have to.” He paused. “I liked kissing you, Jane.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “Do we have to talk about this?”

  “I’m afraid we do.”

  She made herself meet that probing gaze. She sought but didn’t find anger or resentment, although given how she’d pulled back, she wouldn’t blame him for feeling either. “I’m willing to do what I must.”

  His eyes sharpened on her. “I know you are, but I’d rather you enjoyed this. Especially after those kisses.”

  She flung out one hand in an annoyed gesture. “Will you stop harping on about kisses?”

  “No. Did you like kissing me, Jane?”

  Jane wanted her side of the bed to sink through the floor and take her with it. “You know I did.”

  “That’s something we can work on.”

  He caught her hand. After being in his arms, the heat the contact sparked wasn’t as bewildering as it had been. She rapidly reached a point where she liked Hugh to touch her. She thought back to how overwrought she’d been when the world lurched off its axis.

  “I’m not sure about any of this, Hugh,” she admitted.

  “I know you’re not.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, setting off another wanton quiver. “It’s asking too much to think you might be, dear Jane.”

  She struggled to avoid turning into a puddle of syrup when he called her dear Jane. Turning into a puddle of syrup had been the problem when he’d kissed her. She raised her chin. “I made a promise to you—and to God.”

  “Our marital relations aren’t a mountain you must climb.”

  That was exactly what they felt like. A high, rocky, barren mountain, riven with dangerous cliffs and chasms. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt like she was trapped in a landslide.

  His grip on her hand tightened. His hold wasn’t reassuring at all, although she supposed he meant it to soothe her fears. “Shall we try again, Jane?”

  Dread jolted her. Dread, and a shameful wash of anticipation. She’d never expected Hugh to have this power over her. She was—almost—convinced she didn’t like it.

  Still, she’d made vows. She hated that she was too spineless to fulfill her marital obligations. But it took an almighty effort to meet that velvety gaze and nod her head. “If you wish,” she forced out from a throat as tight as a drum.

  A light glinted in his eyes, a light that did nothing to banish the nerves curdling her stomach. “By God, I do wish.”

  *

  Chapter Nine

  *

  Hugh kneeled over her legs so he could cradle her face between his hands. She closed her eyes and trembled in his grasp, although the urge to retreat into the pillows was nigh irresistible. Bunching her hands against the sheet, she told herself she could bear this. All she needed to do was keep him from sweeping her away into that terrifying tide of excitement.

  He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. Immediately, she braced against a wave of powerful response that seemed out of kilter with the sweetness of his kiss. He cupped her nape and began a gentle kneading. The temptation to sway forward was overwhelming, but she managed to resist it.

  After a few moments, Hugh pulled away. His breath was warm on her face. Another intimacy.

  When he didn’t speak, she gradually opened her eyes. His expression was rueful. “This isn’t going to happen, is it?”

  Her guilt spiked. “I won’t fight you.”

  He shook his head, more in disappointment than denial, she thought. “I know you won’t.”

  “Then?”

  He let her go and moved away to slump against the pillows beside her. “Do you want this, Jane?”

  Did she? The touch of his lips ripping the soul from her body and threatening to turn sensible Jane Norris—Jane Rutherford, now—into someone she didn’t recognize? “Do you?”

  His grunt held a derisive edge. “More than I ever imagined I would.”

  Given that until three weeks ago, he’d never expressed a moment’s interest in her as anything other than a family friend, that was probably true. She licked her lips, and something feminine inside her responded to his lingering taste. “Perhaps the problem is the kissing.”

  He looked skeptical, lifting one expressive eyebrow in her direction. “Indeed?”

  “Yes,” she said, warming to her theory. “If I lie back and you…do what you need to, we can finish quickly and without trouble.”

  Another grunt of sour amusement. “Like taking a nasty medicine all in one gulp?”

  Heat stung her cheeks. He was a little too acute. That had been exactly her idea. “I don’t want to let you down.”

  “I commend your principles.”

  Her lips tightened. “Sarcasm isn’t helpful.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said grimly. “I’ll feel let down if my wife takes no pleasure in what I do to her. Do you loathe my touch so much?”

  “No,” she said aghast, before she could stop herself. “It’s just…”

  Watching her handsome husband when he spoke of such private matters did strange things to her insides. That heavy, dark gaze set up a quiver in her stomach that reminded her of how she’d felt lost in his kisses.

  Hugh sighed and ran his hand through his thick hair. More than ever, he looked like a sulky deity. “You’re not yet accustomed to the idea of being my wife.”

  “I thought I was.” Jane looked down to where her hands pleated the sheets. The sight of her wedding ring still caught her by surprise. “You’ve made a bad bargain.”

  “I
wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “But I was unfair, expecting you to make the transition from nurse to wife, without time to adjust to your new life.”

  “I’m willing to do my part,” she said shakily. “Perhaps this time, it would be better if you didn’t kiss me.”

  However mad it seemed, the thought of that vigorous male body pumping into her wasn’t nearly so scary as his kisses.

  “If you’re sure,” he said, sounding unconvinced. She couldn’t blame him. No doubt other ladies clamored for his attentions. The thought of those other ladies added a dollop of jealousy to her stew of emotions. Which was a disaster and showed just how dangerous Hugh’s kisses were.

  Because he was in love with another woman and always would be. If she let that unarguable fact set its claws into her, life would become a nightmare. She couldn’t risk developing any possessive feelings about her husband.

  “And maybe…maybe you should blow out the candles.”

  His eyes narrowed on her, as if she posed a logistical problem that he meant to solve. She supposed she must. This turmoil had caught them both unprepared. After all, they’d entered this marriage with the same businesslike approach she’d use to buy a new cow.

  Except in this particular deal, she was the cow.

  That pragmatism had misled her into thinking that everything between them would be matter-of-fact. Her innocence had betrayed her. Apparently it was difficult to share a man’s bed, without crossing the line between friendship and a relationship impossible to define, but more disturbing than she’d ever imagined.

  “I don’t want shame to contaminate what we do together,” he said.

  Shame? Was that what she felt? Jane didn’t think so. What he’d done had felt outlandish, but she hadn’t been disgusted. Even when he’d pushed his tongue into her mouth.

  No, it had been exciting. Too exciting.

  Instinct insisted that she had to maintain some distance from her husband. When Hugh’s mouth claimed hers, that became impossible. “I think if I can’t see you, it will help,” she said, hating the squeak in her voice. “Just this time.”

  “Don’t you find me attractive?” he asked, and she cringed at her tactlessness. What could she say? Any woman would find him attractive, but every ounce of her Norris pride revolted at the idea of yearning after a man who didn’t want her.