“Still, Ernest and I were close, once.” And it was that relationship that kept Barrington from accepting the mere supposition that his brother more than coveted the marquessate. Ever since they were children, the youngest Howe had always been Barrington’s most effusive champion and ally, and it hurt to think otherwise. “However, last night, during the dinner, he revealed his intentions to move out of the house and into his own lodging.”
“What prompted that?” Sir Ross inquired, as he arched a brow. “And was that before or after he learned of your imminent wedding?”
“I have no idea, and that is what bothers me, in the wake of the ill-timed disclosure.” Yet the implications were bleak. “Ross, I want your assurance that you will defend Florence, at all costs, especially if something happens to me.”
“My best men will guard her, from a careful distance, just as they monitor your brother and your cousin Percy.” Ross inclined his head. “And I would like to station an agent, incognito, as a footman inside your home.”
“Done.” Percy posed another difficulty Barrington had not foreseen, and he could not fathom his bungling relation engaging in such nefarious deeds, because the estate passed to Ernest, in the event of Barrington’s demise. “In good faith, I should probably apprise you of forthcoming assistance from less than reputable sources.”
“Oh?” For a moment, Sir Ross simply stared at Barrington. Then the government agent sobered. “No. Tell me you did not do what I think you did.”
“Sir Ross, if I am to fight a fiendish adversary, I require like-minded associates, and I know none more cunning and savage than pirates.” Barrington folded his arms. “So I summoned aid.”
“Let me guess.” Sir Ross rolled his eyes. “Jean Marc Cavalier.”
“And one more, known throughout the seafaring ranks as a particularly ruthless bastard, which is just what we need at our disposal.” Barrington lowered his chin. “I call him a friend, but to others he is known as The Marooner.”
~
The marchioness’s suite at Howe House on Green Street sported a garish décor of gold, from everything including the velvet drapery to the furnishings and the matching damask upholstery and bed linens. As Mead unpacked Florence’s personal items, another lady’s maid stowed Aunt Esther’s things in several trunks.
“Would you like to take the counterpane, Aunt Esther?” Florence tempered her aversion to the gaudy color scheme. “Or did it belong to the previous marchioness? Is it a family heirloom?”
“Oh, no.” Aunt Esther hugged her rotund belly and laughed. “You should have seen this place before I had it renovated in an updated and more fitting style for a noblewoman. Please, feel free to keep whatever you wish, as Ernest paid for everything with funds from the estate.”
“But I feel terrible about forcing you from your accommodations, and I am content to take a guest room should you prefer to stay here.” Of course, Barrington would not fancy such an arrangement, which he made clear during the coach ride to his home. “If there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you need but ask.”
“You are the soul of charity.” Aunt Esther smiled. “And Percy and I shall find alternative housing, at the first opportunity, as we cannot forever impinge upon your kindness.” She elbowed Florence. “I wager my nephew cannot wait to be rid of us.”
“On the contrary, he adores you.” Tamping a snort of sarcasm, Florence braced for a lightning strike, given Barrington’s protestations on the matter. “And there is no rush for you to vacate what has been your home these two years.”
“Actually, our finances have recovered quite substantially, with Ernest’s help, and we can afford to purchase a home of our own.” With a wistful countenance, Aunt Esther glanced about the large chamber. “Indeed, I find I am rather excited at the prospect of selecting a new house.”
“Are you?” Sighing in relief, Florence relaxed, because she harbored no ill will toward her soon-to-be family. “Because I do so want us to be good friends.”
“As do I.” The elderly grand dame whisked a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed. “And I am sorry I shared your news with my friends, as I thought they understood the need for secrecy, which I erroneously believed I made clear, but I was overset with joy. Yet, you made the gossip columns, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Florence clasped hands with Esther, peered at the mantel clock, and flinched, as it was time to depart for the church. “And all is forgotten. Now, I must away.” To Mead, Florence said, “Finish what you can, and we will tidy and organize everything tomorrow.”
Checking her appearance, she assessed the rich blue, silk satin gown she selected for her nuptials, situated a rebellious curl in her coiffure, and rolled her shoulders, in an attempt to ease the nervous tension investing her. With a deep breath, she lifted her chin and strolled into the hall of the elegant Mayfair mansion.
The wall coverings featured a bold floral pattern in dark blue flock on a gold background and highlighted the passage, along with matching Aubusson runners and expensive mahogany wainscoting. At the landing, a large round table held pride of place, and a massive vase, with a chinoiserie motif, held seasonal blooms in a multitude of colors. As she rested her palm to the polished bannister, she locked gazes with Barrington, as he lingered in the foyer.
Even from a distance, he managed to touch her without touching her, and his heated stare warmed her from top to toe, as she descended to the first floor. After four years apart, he still affected her like no other man, and she held no reservations as she marched straight toward him.
“Ready to meet your fate?” Bedecked in a black wool coat, a dark green waistcoat, black breeches, Hessians, and a diamond twinkling at the center of his cravat, he canted his head and smiled, baring the adorable dimples that never failed to melt her heart. “Or do you court second thoughts?”
“I need to commission a designer to renovate the marchioness’s suite, as your aunt’s tastes differ drastically from mine.” Ignoring his question, she gave him her back, and he draped her ermine-collared pelisse about her shoulders. “And I gave her the counterpane, so I will need to secure a new one.”
“There is no rush, because I do not anticipate you spending much time or any nights in your apartment, for the foreseeable future, if ever.” With a chuckle, he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she shivered. “And I am sincerely looking forward to tonight, my dear Florence, as I have longed to take you between my sheets.”
“Oh?” Arm in arm, they exited what would formally be their home, upon their return, and she glanced over her shoulder as they navigated the entrance stairs. “I would have thought it an unremarkable occasion, given we have shared a bed numerous times.”
“Ah, but this is special, because tonight you will be my wife.” Parked on the street sat the Ravenwood coach, the doors emblazoned with the coat of arms, and her soon-to-be-husband handed her into the resplendent equipage. While protocol called for him to sit opposite her, true to form, her man perched in the squabs at her side. “And I intend to make you scream with pleasure, unreservedly, because we shall be licensed to misbehave.”
She gasped at his bold demeanor, which still startled her. “Barrington.”
“Florence.” He mocked her.
“I said it before, and I will say it again, you are much changed.” As the rig lurched forward and moved into the lane, she told herself she was not afraid of him, and she remained assured of her commitment to him, she harbored doubts as to the constancy of his affection. Regardless of his attachment, he would uphold the marriage contract, because he was nothing if not honorable, but did he want her, as his partner for eternity, given passion did not equate love? “I would know what happened to you while you were away.”
“I do not understand.” The subtle tic above his right eye, which always betrayed the truth, declared otherwise. “I am here, and I am the same man I was prior to my departure from London. Wha
t more do you need to know?”
“What was your life like, as a pirate?” No, hers was not the best time to embark on an interrogation, of sorts, but she had to know what he experienced, and he had been less than forthcoming since he appeared in her bedchamber. “I would know everything, and I will listen now, else I will not get out of this coach when we arrive in Hanover Square.”
THE IRON CORSAIR
CHAPTER SEVEN
Indecision manifested a weak man’s trait, and Barrington did not consider himself weak. But Florence’s ill-timed query threatened to forestall their nuptials, and that he could not abide, after so many delays. So he faced a quandary.
What would he do to win his lady?
“Sweetheart, even now your father and the rector await our arrival, and I wager the clergyman is none too happy about our spontaneous wedding.”
“We have a special license, so that should not be a problem.” As if to support her unwavering position, she lifted her chin and folded her arms, in a familiar stance he knew well. “The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we will be wed.”
“What, specifically, do you want to know?” As soon as he voiced the question, he regretted it, because he should not have granted her such liberty. “What I mean to say is what troubles you, my dear?”
“Did you take other women to your bed?” Whatever he expected her to ask, that was not it. “Were you unfaithful?”
“I beg your pardon?” He gulped. “How could I be unfaithful when we were not married?”
“You heard me.” Now she tapped her foot in an impatient rhythm. “And I thought our love transcended the vows. At least, that is what you declared when you seized my bride’s prize.”
“Our love does transcend the vows, and I kept my fidelity, in a sense.” In that moment, he hated himself for parsing words, when he never planned to disclose his salacious dealings. And he would have said anything to claim her most intimate gift. “In a manner of speaking, yes, I knew other women, exclusively whores in exchange for money. In short, it was a business transaction.”
“What, pray tell, does that mean?” The anguish evident in her blue eyes waylaid him, and he took her hand in his.
“Florence, in the midst of everything that happened, I knew not if I would ever see you again, and I made choices, of which I am not proud, based on that assumption.” Pressing her palm to his cheek, Barrington sighed. “While I made love to no one, in the usual course of action, there are other methods of achieving satisfaction. I know it probably sounds naïve, but to me it was a way to remain faithful to you.”
“What methods?” He should have known she would pose that inquiry.
“It is not a topic fit for a lady of character.” And there ended the discussion.
“It is for this lady, because you and I have no secrets.” To his amazement, Florence bared her teeth. “What methods?”
In that instant, Barrington realized he could not refuse her request, but how could he describe the debauchery of a pirate’s life without well and truly scandalizing his sweet noblewoman? In the end, he opted for the truth and prayed she would not leave him.
“Darling, we were separated for a long time, more than I could bear.” Clutching her fingers, if only to maintain contact, he stared at the passing landscape. “The encounters meant nothing, as they served a sole, base purpose, which had naught to do with you.”
She arched a brow. “And that was—what?”
“Release.” In hindsight, he struggled with shame, given his behavior. “Nothing more than physical gratification, often drink-induced.”
“I see.” Now that frightened him, because he suspected she saw too well. “And how did you remain faithful, as you assert?”
“Well…I…that is to say—oh, bloody hell.” With a huff, he bent and whispered in her ear, and she shrieked.
“In the bottom?” Wide-eyed, Florence opened and then closed her mouth. “But—how is that possible?”
“My dear, it is quite possible. Indeed, it is a pirate’s favored maneuver, because it prevents the conception of unwanted children, as well as other maladies.” Given her innocence, he chuckled. “And while I know it sounds rather taboo, some women find it quite pleasurable, thus I would not gainsay it until you have tried it.”
“You would do that with me?” Was it his imagination, or did she appear curious? “Is it permissible?”
“My lady, I would argue that what happens in the confines of our marriage bed is our business.” As she softened, he draped an arm about her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Though I would amend my assertion to include wherever we choose to engage in marital relations.”
“You are shameless.” She elbowed him, but her smile proclaimed her amenable state. “And I should like to know why you were so energetic last night, as never have you made love to me with such vigor, although that is not a complaint.”
“Ah, but that was four years worth of passion, love, and I could not have contained it if I tried, because I desire you.” With his nose, he traced the crest of her ear. “I always have, but you know that.”
“What of that rather crude maneuver you enacted with my mouth and your…your…well, you know what I reference.” The lure of her charming blush seduced him, and it was all Barrington could do not to lift her ankles and take her in the coach. “Before you left home, you made love as would a gentleman, I presume.”
“Perhaps I am no longer a gentleman.” Indeed, in her company, he wanted naught more than to pass the hours between her luscious thighs. “Does that alarm you?”
“No, because you tell me nothing I do not already recognize.” As the rig passed the six-columned entrance to St. George’s and parked near the side entry, she peered out the window. “But I could not take a stranger as my husband, and I needed to know that you still want me, as your wife, given we have had so little time to talk. If you wish it, I shall release you from your commitment, because I would rather you were happy without me than miserable with me.”
“Florence, believe me, that was never in doubt.” Studying the delicate lines and curves of her profile, he shook his head, as he realized he did far more damage than he previously suspected, and he sought to reassure her. “I did not do right by you, and I live to regret my actions, which were borne of panic and the ignorance of youth, but I can assure you that in respect to our engagement, my feelings remain constant as the northern star.”
“You are sure?” She bit her lip.
“I am positive,” he responded, without hesitation. “Indeed, I love you, and I will have no other.”
“All right.” Now she grinned. “Then let us wed.”
~
It was late when Florence stirred. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned. As she studied her surroundings, her heart raced until she recognized Barrington’s suite, lit by the last of the guttering flames in the hearth. Stretching long, she smiled and hummed her appreciation, as her husband curled about her, and with a hand he cupped her breast.
“Are you awake?” She shifted her hips as he toyed with her nipple.
“Indeed, I am, my lady wife.” He licked the crest of her ear, and gooseflesh covered her from top to toe. “How do you feel?”
“Quite sore, I am afraid.” Memories flashed in her brain. The heated drive from Hanover Square to their residence. The wedding lunch in the grand dining room, which boasted an Egyptian décor by Thomas Hope. The consummation that he enacted numerous times to claim every part of her, using various positions and techniques, and most especially the breach of her bottom, which she yielded in a moment of unbridled passion, in both his sitting room and his bedchamber. “But I am well and truly yours.”
“From this day forward, you shall not walk alone.” He recited one of their vows, as he tightened his hold. “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”
“I love that promise.” The ceremony was short but sweet. Above all, it was permanent. Burrowing beneath the covers, she shivered. “It is chilly in here.”
“He wanted me to know that he understood why I deceived him, and he forgave me.” It was a difficult discussion, which Florence had avoided, given her embarrassment. “Papa said my actions were borne of desperation and love, and he could not hold that against me. And he wanted me to know that he would always support me, should I ever have need of his assistance.”
“What did he mean by that?” He peered over his shoulder, as he added more fuel to the fire. “Does he not trust me?”
“Darling, in light of everything we face, Papa is concerned for my safety, nothing more.” Sitting upright, she fluffed the pillows, drew the covers to her chin, and leaned back. “It has naught to do with you.”
Of course, that was not entirely true, because her father did not know what to make of the much-altered Barrington and his ulterior persona. In fact, Papa worried about The Iron Corsair’s questionable associates and the as-yet unidentified murderer.
“Dissemblance is not in your nature, sweetheart.” Her husband stood and faced her, in all his glory, and she tried not to notice his healthy arousal. “Although your father poses as a friend, I hear the suspicion in his voice, and I see the consternation in his gaze whenever he looks at me. He no longer considers me a son, as he did once.”
“Please, do not say that.” Despite her protest, she agreed with Barrington, but she did not want to ponder difficulties between the two most important men in her life, so she sought a distraction. “Is there anything to eat? I have been ravished by a marauding buccaneer for several hours, and I am famished.”
“Let me check the sitting room, because I arranged to have a light repast delivered before the household retired.” As he swaggered to the double door entry, she admired his stunning physique and the shapely globes of his bottom, which fascinated her, given what he did to her, with her permission, that evening. As he promised, he was gentle as he claimed her in a way she had never before imagined, and she found seemingly limitless pleasure in his bawdy possession.
The Iron Corsair (Pirates of the Coast Book 2) Page 7