Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  Here he was on his wedding night, holding his beautiful bride in his arms, and unable to do anything to assuage the lust. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying desperately to sleep so the time would pass. Arabella turned the other direction and shoved her plump bottom into his side. He groaned.

  Sometime later he woke up covered in sweat. He’d never been so hot in his life. Lying next to Arabella was like lying next to a fireplace. When he tried to ease away from her, she moved back again. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he hopped off the bed and hesitated at first, then slid his breeches down. The cool air on his naked skin felt wonderful.

  Arabella began moving her arm over where he’d lain, whimpering. Well, there wasn’t much he could do. He climbed back in, wrapped his arm around her middle, and drew her close to him until they were huddled together. Her nightgown had ridden up to her hips, and his very delighted erection was trying desperately to find its way inside her moist warmth. With a groan, he moved his hips back slightly, which she seemed to allow, as long as his arm encircled her.

  With a sigh, and counting the horses in his stable one by one, name by name, he attempted to go back to sleep.

  Nash kissed the soft skin under his lips. He pushed aside the long braid covering said soft skin and continued to kiss, lick, and suckle. The scent of lemon and lavender drifted to his nose. Only half awake, he pushed his hips against more soft, warm flesh. It had been some time since he’d awakened like this, and his raging erection told him it was time to correct that situation.

  Slowly his hand wandered up the front of a sweet-smelling woman, cupping a full breast with a stiffened nipple. He encircled the nipple with his thumb and received a slight moan for his efforts. His hand slid to the other breast, and the woman shifted her lovely, plush bottom against him. He slowly opened his eyes, and jerked back. Dear God, he was fondling a sick woman!

  Arabella must have awakened at the same time. She squeaked and moved so far, so fast away from him, that she tumbled to the floor. “Ouch!”

  “Arabella! Are you all right?” He leaned over the side of the bed. She lay on the floor in a heap. Her nightgown was twisted around her waist, displaying beautiful, well-shaped calves and thighs. Thighs that joined right where black curly hair nestled against her alabaster skin.

  “Close your eyes!” Arabella struggled to get her gown down. Nash tried, honestly he did, but he could not take his eyes off her lovely body displayed right there in front of his very happy eyes. “Nash!”

  Grinning, he reached over and she took his hand. Once she stood, the gown fell in waves around her legs, covering that wonderful sight. He sighed, and she blushed a deep red. Holding her nose in the air, she climbed into the bed next to him. When she lifted the sheet, she sucked in a deep breath. “You’re naked!”

  “And you must be feeling better since you are aware of all these things.” He reached over and rested his palm on her forehead. “You are much cooler. In fact, I would say your fever is gone.”

  “I do feel better. My throat is still sore and my head aches, but the aches in my body seem to have stopped. And—I’m hungry.”

  “Excellent. I will ring for Sophia and have her bring a tray for both of us.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned as Arabella studied his nakedness with curiosity, despite the flush of embarrassment on her face. No shy swooning maid, his wife. All the more reason for her illness to hurry up and pass.

  He pulled on his breeches and strode to the door and rang the bell for Sophia.

  “Do you suppose whatever plagued me all day yesterday is truly gone already?”

  Nash came back to sit on the bed next to her. “It might or might not be.”

  “Well, that’s a definite answer.”

  “Sometimes you can feel better, only to have the symptoms come back again. That is why doctors say the patient should remain in bed for at least two or three days after the fever breaks.”

  “I will find it most difficult to stay in bed that long.”

  Visions of both of them naked in bed for three days had him hardening again. He would certainly have no problem keeping her entertained. He pushed those thoughts aside as a scratch at the bedchamber door drew their attention. “Come,” Nash said.

  Sophia entered, a slight blush on her face when she saw Nash sitting on the bed with Arabella, only wearing his breeches. “Good morning, my lady. You are looking a bit better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Thank you, Sophia. I am feeling somewhat better, and I would like some breakfast.”

  Nash turned to the maid. “Nothing too heavy. Some porridge, and maybe a bit of toast. And tea.”

  …

  Arabella chafed at his overbearing manner. “I am capable of choosing my own breakfast, my lord.”

  Ignoring her, he turned to Sophia. “You may leave now. As for me, please have Cook fix my usual breakfast. We will both be breaking our fast in here.”

  Well. This marriage was not starting off the way she had planned. He had already demanded she stay in bed for three days and ordered her breakfast for her, as if she were a child. Deciding she would have her say, she tapped him on the shoulder. “My lord, please understand I have no intention of allowing you to order my sleeping habits or my meals. I am a woman grown, and I intend to conduct myself in such a manner.”

  To her absolute horror, he laughed. Laughed! How dare he? She drew herself up. “I do not see what is funny about this.”

  Now he doubled over and continued to laugh until she had an urge to smack him over the head with the pillow. Or something hard.

  “Do not laugh at me. You were the one who insisted on this marriage, and I will not be a biddable wife who listens to your every command.”

  “Oh my dear. That never crossed my mind. However, I told you I have done quite a bit of reading on influenza. Perhaps just this once, you can adhere to my superior knowledge?”

  Arabella snorted. “Superior knowledge, indeed.” She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  Nash’s jaw dropped, and he licked his lips.

  “What?” Seeing where he gawked, she looked down and was appalled that her crossed arms were shoving her breasts upward, making the brown nipples that pressed against the fabric visible through her nightgown. She dropped her arms and pulled the sheet up to her neck.

  Heat climbed from her stomach to her face. Alarmed, she realized the heat was not only embarrassment, but a sense of unease and excitement in her stomach at the look on her husband’s face. “You may leave now.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. I think I will check on breakfast.” He jumped up from the bed and practically ran out the door, forgetting no doubt he was without boots and a shirt. He returned within seconds and sheepishly grabbed his boots and shirt and left again.

  Arabella flopped down on the bed. She did feel a lot better, but truth be known, she was still sick and weak. A few days in bed would not be a bad idea. She could have her furry friends visit, and do some needlework and read. After the stress of the betrothal and quick wedding, a little bit of rest would be a good thing.

  …

  After five days with no return of the fever, Arabella left her bed and ordered a bath. During his daily visits, Nash had told her that once she was recovered, they would take a trip to Suffolk. He wanted to speak in person with his steward and go over his books. He’d begun to believe there was something untoward going on, that had begun sometime before his father had died.

  He’d sat on the edge of her bed, all arrogance and self-importance. “Once I’ve decided you are well enough, we will make the trip to Suffolk”

  She felt the heat rise to her face at his condescension. “Once you have decided?” Why did he continue to behave as though she were a muddle-headed half-wit?

  He looked at her, genuinely confused. “What have I done wrong this time?”

  “You don’t even know, do you?” Arabella had never felt the need to inflict violence upon a person. Until she
’d met Nash.

  “I am an adult. I can certainly determine if I am in robust enough health to travel to Suffolk.”

  Nash snorted. “I do not attribute wise decisions to you, Wife.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “However, I believe you are most likely ready to travel.” With those commanding words, he bowed and left the room. Arabella picked up the book she’d been reading and hurled it at the door.

  She slapped her hands on the bed. Oh, to smack that smile off his arrogant face. She collapsed back onto the pillows. Since she was not quite ready to face Society, anyway, she was more than happy to comply with his request. She just resented the way he’d phrased his words. If only the man had asked if she were up to the trip, instead of telling her he would decide when they would go, and that she should be packed and ready when he felt the time was right.

  Nash had taken to sleeping in her bed each night. He said it was because he wanted to be sure her fever didn’t return. Each morning she awoke with his arms wrapped around her, his hands wandering over her body. She’d pushed his hands away, but each time it grew harder and harder to do so. Truth be known, that glance of his naked backside had started her wondering what the rest of him looked like. The feel of his warm flesh under her hands had her anticipating their joining.

  She’d spent enough time around animals to know how things worked. The feelings he’d elicited from her body when he touched and fondled her had her more than ready to discover the rest of it.

  It was a long day of taking a tour of the house with the housekeeper, Mrs. McGregor, and consulting with Cook on menus for when they returned. After all of that, Arabella looked forward to reaching her bed, still feeling weak. Nash had not yet told her when they would be leaving, but since she was up and about, most likely it would be soon. When she questioned him, Nash assured her that any remaining weakness would be the last symptom to disappear. He also took that opportunity to remind her she had grumbled about spending three days in bed.

  Now she sat in front of the mirror in her new bedchamber, studying her expression. She was certain this would be the night. Sophia had just left her after helping with her bath and brushing her hair into a shiny gloss that fell in waves to caress her shoulders. She wore a lovely new night rail—white, with small pink flowers embroidered along the scandalously low neckline. Her husband would be pleased with her appearance.

  Attempting to distract herself, she looked around the room. During the time of her illness, she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings, keeping the bed drapes closed most of the time while she’d taken one nap after another.

  Her things had been moved into the dowager countess’s former space. During one of their conversations when he’d visited her, Nash had told her she was free to redecorate and rearrange to her own taste. She did not see that much needed to be done. The walls had been covered in tasteful green and rose silk wallpaper. The highly polished wooden floor was partially covered by rose and green patterned carpets.

  All the wood trim in the bedchamber, along with the fireplace, had been painted white. The space had been brought together with draperies and bedding in white, rose, and green. With her own belongings now in the wardrobe, perfumes and creams lined up on the dressing table, and her favorite pens and journal adorning the small escritoire tucked into a corner, she felt very much at home.

  The sounds of Nash moving around the room and speaking with his valet next door reminded her of the fact that after tonight she would be his wife in truth. Mother had assumed this would be the night Nash would insist on his husbandly rights, since she’d been up and about all day, and she’d come to offer a bit of motherly advice. The short, hurried words she’d practically whispered had made it difficult not to roll her eyes. “Just do your duty. Lie still, don’t complain, and it will soon be over.”

  Her eyes flew to the door between their rooms as it slowly opened.

  Chapter Eight

  Nash tightened the belt on his banyan and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d given his bride enough time. If he waited much longer, he would most likely have absolutely no control when he finally bedded her, since the last few mornings he’d had a very hard time keeping his hands off her.

  He opened the door connecting their rooms to find her sitting in front of the mirror. He licked his suddenly dry lips. Her golden-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders to rest halfway down her back in waves. A slight flush rose to her cheeks as she regarded him with her hazel eyes.

  Either she was cold or his appearance had already stirred her, since her nipples were prominent against the silky material of her nightgown. Seeing where his eyes had wandered, she wrapped her arms around her breasts, covering the lovely sight.

  “No. Don’t do that.” He walked toward her and extended his hand. Looking up at him with a combination of curiosity and determination, she placed her small, delicate hand in his. He drew her to her feet and moved her forward until she was almost flush against him.

  “You are a beautiful woman, Arabella.” He ran his fingers through her hair, dragging the locks over her shoulder to rest on her breasts. His palm slid down her arm to her hand, where he entwined their fingers together. Slowly, he bent his head and took her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

  Their first kiss of substance.

  She was all honey, lemon, and woman. The scent from her bath and hair drifted over him as he cupped the back of her head and nudged her lips with his tongue. After some hesitation, probably not sure what he wanted, she slowly opened her lips, and he delved in. Now he tasted mint that mingled with her other scents, offering a bouquet of fragrances uniquely Arabella.

  He pulled away from her and held her shoulders. “Are you feeling well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Frightened?”

  “No. Should I be?”

  “If you trust me not to hurt you, now or ever, it will go much smoother. I want to make this as pleasurable for you as it will be for me.” He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he joined her, resting his head on his left hand as he studied her.

  “Do you realize your eyes almost match your hair in color?”

  Arabella nodded. “I’ve been told that. I fail to see it myself, however.” She startled and inhaled deeply when his finger began to trace the soft skin on her cheek.

  “Relax, Wife. We’ve spent many a night in this bed together.”

  “I am not nervous.” She glanced sideways at him. “Perhaps curious.”

  For days now he’d ached—literally—to introduce her to the pleasures that awaited them. And truth be told, he was becoming a little frantic himself to take her as a husband takes his wife.

  He smiled slowly and bent to capture her lips in another gentle kiss. This time she willingly opened her mouth before he asked. She was a fast learner, his wife. No surprise there. He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her the slight distance between them until her body rested flush against his. He held in a moan at the feeling of her soft breasts pressed against his chest. The warmth and lushness of her body set his heart to thumping.

  Her breathing seemed to increase, and she slowly moved her hand up his chest.

  “Yes. Touch me.” He nibbled on her earlobe then sucked lightly.

  Of course, he’d had his share of courtesans and opera dancers, but making love to the unschooled woman to whom he’d pledged his life was a heady experience. Her innocent touch, her soft breaths, her sweet lips on his chest, all reminded him of the precious gift she gave of her body.

  With deft fingers born of undressing many females in his time, he kept her lips busy while he slowly moved his hand up, underneath her gown, until it rested at her waist. He caressed her plump bottom, bringing a slight, but definite, sigh from her lips. “Let’s take this off. You’ll be more comfortable,” he murmured in her ear.

  She shifted and allowed him to pull the garment over her head. He tossed the gown away while she covered her breasts again. He took both of her hands in his and remo
ved them, placing them on his shoulders, then bent to take one pouting nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bead, taking light nips that he soothed with his lips.

  Her hands moved to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. “That feels good.”

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured against her breast, “it only gets better from here.”

  …

  Arabella shivered, but not from the cold. Even though her nightgown had been deftly removed by her husband, the warmth of what he was doing with his wicked mouth was slowly raising her temperature. She rubbed her foot alongside his leg, and the coarse hair felt strange against her skin.

  With a final lick, Nash released her breast and moved to the other one. Slowly, his hand made its way down her body until it rested on her hip, kneading it gently. Everywhere he touched brought shivers and gooseflesh to her skin. The ministrations to her breasts caused strange, tingling feelings to the area between her legs. Where his hand now rested.

  When had he moved it?

  She tried not to think about this man, who only a little more than a week ago she’d barely known, touching her so intimately. But oh, how wonderful was his touch!

  Thinking he would enjoy her caresses as much as she was enjoying his, she returned her hand to his chest since he seemed to like that when she did it before. The soft hair was in contrast to his sinewy muscles. She skimmed her fingernail over his flat nipple, and he jumped, but smiled as he said against her mouth, “Don’t stop.”

  With his fingers, he nudged her thighs, which she took to mean he wanted her to open her legs. “That’s it, honey.” He sucked in a breath. “You’re already wet for me.”

  Not sure if that was good or bad, she attempted to close her legs and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  He grinned. “No, sweeting. That’s good. It means your body is preparing yourself for me.”

  “Oh. Should I be doing something to prepare you?”

  Instead of an answer, he groaned, took her hand, and moved it to his man parts. Goodness it felt strange. Soft and hard. Silky and smooth. She held it like she would her parasol, her hand wrapped around it. Nash placed his hand over hers and moved it up and down. “Yes.” He gritted his teeth. “Just like that.”