The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy)

by Geralyn Dawson

  After a wistful gaze toward the game table in one corner of the room, she shook her head. Swallowing bravely, she declared, "No, I must do my duty."

  Damnation. He'd married a martyr.

  It did not bode well for the immediate future. "Sarah, this might be easier if you'd take a different approach. Lovemaking need not be a 'duty.' "

  Hope shone in the whisky eyes she turned his way. "I thought we had to do it. I thought it was a rule. Do you not want to do it, either?"

  "Of course I want to do it. I'm a healthy, eighteen-year-old man. I always want to do it."

  "Oh."

  He was trying to be patient and understanding, but the fact was, her crestfallen expression annoyed him. Were all virgins this ridiculous, or was he just lucky?

  She plucked at a loose thread on the counterpane. "So I guess that means you've done it before?"

  "What kind of question is that? You're not supposed to ask me about the women I've had."

  Her chin came up. "Well, how should I know that? Where's the book of rules? Someone forgot to give it to me. All I know is what my mother told me, and in all honesty I found it less than encouraging. The entire business seems messy and embarrassing. Unnatural."

  "Unnatural!" Nick wanted to take her and shake her. But since he wanted to take her more, he forced himself to stay calm. "Sarah, sex is the most natural thing in the world. What's unnatural is how you're acting about it. I dinna know what your mother told you, but sex is wonderful. It is the best thing in the whole world. Sarah, you'll think you've died and gone to heaven."

  "I will?"

  "Trust me."

  Her somber regard told him he asked for a lot As she slipped into her dressing gown, rose from the bed, and crossed the room to gaze outside the window, Nick was reminded that this marriage of theirs was being built on shaky ground. She didn't trust him, that much was obvious. And to be honest, Nick wasn't certain she loved him all that deeply, either. He thought it more likely that Sarah Simpson Ross was in love with the idea of love. And weddings. The girl truly loved all the preparations that went along with weddings.

  Obviously, that attraction didn't extend to the wedding night.

  Hence, the current problem. The idea of the wedding night was what had made him listen when she brought up the idea of a wedding to begin with. He'd married her because his body craved hers like a child craves candy, and because Sarah could give him the treasure he'd lost—a family.

  He missed his family desperately. He missed belonging. When he'd stormed away from Rowanclere Castle upon learning he wasn't John and Fiona Ross's blood son but the unwanted offspring of the third marquess of Weston, he had yet to realize the value of what he was throwing away. Two years of being alone had taught him the lesson, though not until it was too late. Now the Rosses were dead, and the only family he had was the one born this day at the altar of St. Paul's chinch.

  So he'd damned well better take good care of this brand-new family tonight. He'd damned well better take good care of Sarah.

  "Sarah, come back to bed. I give you my word I will do my very best to make our loving good for you."

  "Do you think we'll have a happy marriage, Nick?"

  "I do," he replied, believing it. If they could just get it started.

  "You've been good to me so far, letting me plan the wedding of my dreams, buying property near town so I can still be close to my mama and my friends. I know you're a good man at heart. All your actions have proven it. It's just that... well..." She turned to face him. "I'm afraid."

  "'Tis nothing to be afraid of, lass. I promise. I won't hurt you." He held out his hand to her. "Come here. Be my wife."

  She took two steps toward him, then stopped. "I like the kissing part."

  "I know. I shall do extra kissing."

  "That's considerate. Thank you. I was hoping you'd be a considerate... um..."

  "Lover," he supplied, his mouth lifting in a grin as he began to relax and get back into the spirit of things. "I promise I'll be a very, very considerate lover."

  With that, he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a long, deep kiss. He kissed her breathless. He kissed her senseless. He kissed her until she moaned with need. Then and only then did he reach for the fastenings on her gown and leisurely strip her naked.

  Beautiful. So very beautiful. Now Nick was the one who went breathless, his mouth bone-dry. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the triangle of golden curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  His erection was as hard as the ancient stone walls of Glencoultran Castle. It took every bit of his self-control not to turn it loose on her right there and then.

  Slow... slow... slow. The words drummed like a mantra through his mind. His fingers fanned out and he circled her nipple with the palm of his hand for what seemed like forever until she melted against him. Her whimpers of pleasure encouraged him and stoked the fire of his own desire.

  Nick groaned low in his throat. He badly wanted to replace his hand with his mouth, but having suffered the consequences of that once already tonight, he resisted. He would seduce her with the touch of his hands alone and save the tasting for later.

  He battled against the urgent demand for release throbbing in his loins as he skimmed his hand across the silken skin of her belly and lower, over soft curls and delicate flesh. The scent of arousal perfumed the air, and she stirred restlessly, needily. He slipped his hand between her thighs and found her hot and damp.

  But far from ready.

  She froze like a corpse. "What are you doing?"

  Damnation, not again. She tried to wriggle away from him, but Nick restrained her, panting, "Sarah, stay with me here, trust me."

  "But you have your finger... you're not supposed to use your finger. You're supposed to use your Rod of Steel."

  Rod of Steel? Did she mean... ? Good Lord.

  "I know what I'm supposed to do," Nick snapped. "Relax. You'll like this."

  "Like it? Are you crazy?"

  "I'm beginning to think so, aye." The girl truly knew how to kill a passionate mood. "You have to trust me."

  "I'm trying, but... oh."

  He dragged his finger out of her tight, hot sheath, then slowly slid it back in, stretching her, working her, readying a way for him. It was killing him. His body was telling him to climb on and have at it. His mind knew that way lay disaster.

  Right now it was a toss-up which part of him would win.

  She'd gone still again, her eyes squeezed shut, and Nick took the opportunity to rid himself of his trousers. He saw her mouth begin to move, and as he leaned down to kiss her, he made sense of her soft murmuring.

  "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before—"

  "Praying?" he snapped, jerking away from her and rising up, straddling her hips. "You're praying?"

  She didn't answer. She'd opened her eyes. They were round and wide and gazing in horror at his manhood.

  Nick felt himself start to shrink. His tongue returned to the language of his youth. "Halie blude. What hae ye done to me?"

  "Th-the-the Rod of Steel," she stammered out, locking her ankles. "It frightens me."

  Passion of a different type burned through Nick's blood. "Well, ye need nae worry. He's nae match for the Evil Eye. Ye should just go ahead and emasculate me. Cut him off and be done with it. And to think whorehouses charge a premium for virgins! Some men must be gluttons for punishment."

  In one smooth motion, Nick rolled off the bed. As he bent to retrieve his clothing from the floor, Sarah sat up and grabbed his wrist. "No, Nick. I'm sorry. Please, come back to bed. I trust you. I do. I want to be your wife."

  Nick stared down at the slim, graceful fingers encircling his arm. It was the first time she'd touched him of her own volition since he'd entered the room, and like a dog to a bone, he snapped to attention. The instinct to mate gnawed at him. He gritted his teeth and hung onto his patience by a thread, "Ye must mean it this time, Sarah. If I come to ye again, I'll n
ot have it in me to leave."

  She sounded as if she had a noose around her neck as she responded, "I understand."

  Nick's doubts drowned beneath a tidal wave of lust when she slowly, deliberately released her ankles and spread her legs.

  He joined her in their marriage bed and positioned himself above her. He knew he should wait, knew he should lull her with his kisses first, again, but at the first sweet, soft brush of her mound against the blunt head of his erection, he couldn't help but ease inside her.

  Sarah flinched.

  "It's all right, lass," he soothed, wanting desperately to believe it. She was tight and dry and the going was rough, but she felt so good, pure heaven on earth. Need was a raging beast inside him. Over the roaring in his ears, he heard her whimpers. He gritted his teeth, seeking the last vestiges of his control to take it slow. Seeking, but not finding. "Ah, Sarah, I've got to... I canna stop."

  He bumped against the barrier. It failed to give. He flexed his hips, increasing the pressure. Her whimpers escalated to cries. The obstacle held strong.

  Panic joined the passion barreling through him. He was hurting her. He'd promised he wouldn't. But he couldn't slow down. He couldn't stop.

  His climax was upon him.

  Nick yanked from her body just as she began to scream and his seed began to spurt.

  Waves of exquisite sensation crashed over him. He shuddered, but not with pleasure. He'd gone off before he'd even breeched her innocence to the music of her screams.

  It was by far the most humiliating moment of his life.

  * * *

  She lay by his side, not touching him. Without speaking. A single thought kept running through Sarah's head: Mama was right.

  The private side of marriage was painful and distasteful and downright messy. It burned her, made her so sore. She wanted to get up and wash. How could she bear to go through this again? How often would he truly wish to do it? That was one question she'd never thought to ask her mother.

  She certainly wasn't going to ask Nick. In fact, she might never speak to him again. He'd said she'd think she had died and gone to heaven. Under her breath, she said, "You had half of it right, anyway."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  Silence settled between them like an unwelcome guest Sarah didn't know what to do. What was proper etiquette between a husband and wife following the folly of the marriage bed? It was yet another question she'd not known to ask.

  Finally, Nick took care of that problem. Heedless of his nakedness, he climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the wardrobe where a change of clothing hung. Though she didn't intend to look, her gaze strayed to his backside. She fleetingly wondered how those firm, sculpted muscles would feel to the touch, and wished she'd explored the answer to that when she'd had the chance.

  When she realized the direction her thoughts had taken, she choked and coughed.

  Fastening his trousers, Nick glanced over his shoulder. "You all right?"

  "Um, yes."

  He removed a shirt from the cabinet and slipped it on. "I'm hungry. I thought I would go down to the dining room and order something to bring up. Is a sandwich all right with you?"

  Sarah didn't want a sandwich, but she did want a few moments alone. She guessed that might be what Nick wanted, too. "That's fine."

  He finished dressing without further talk, then headed for the door. There he paused. He raked his fingers through his hair, then addressed her without looking at her. "Sarah, I am sorry. It will be better next time."

  Then he was gone and Sarah darted from the bed in a rush to wash and dress before he returned, the words "next time" echoing through her brain like a death knell.

  Nick took longer downstairs than she expected, so she had time to fix her hair and bolt back another fortifying two sips of brandy. She wasn't certain if the liquor had made it any easier or not, but under the circumstances, if Nick wanted to do it again, better safe than sorry. She decided to keep the bottle close.

  As it turned out, nothing would have prepared her for what happened next. Her husband returned to their room a pale, shaky imitation of the man who had walked out half an hour earlier. Shocked by his appearance, she said, "Nick, what is it? What happened?"

  His deep blue eyes were dazed and glassy as he lifted the sheet of paper he held in his hand. "A letter arrived for me at the rooming house. The Widow Larkin sent it over. It is from England. From my father. My brothers were racing horses. There was an accident. Both of them. They're dead."

  "Your brothers? Oh, Nick. I'm so sorry. Were you close?"

  He shook his head. "I never met them. They were my only brothers and I never even met them. He wouldn't allow it."

  Compassion swept through Sarah. "That's terrible. I understand why you're upset."

  "No, you don't. Think about it, Sarah. My father is the Marquess of Weston. His eldest son is the Earl of Innsbruck. Sarah, that's me. I'm now legally my father's heir. We must depart for London immediately."

  "What?"

  "It's true, lass. I'm an earl. Lord Innsbruck. And you, Sarah, are Lady Innsbruck. You are my countess."

  The brandy bottle slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

  It's bad luck to change your bridal clothes before nightfall.

  Chapter 3

  "I won't go." Sarah repeated her assertion for the fifteenth time in the past fifteen minutes. She was dressed and perched primly on the settee in the sitting room while Nick paced the room. "It's not what we agreed. We have a nice house waiting for us to make it a home."

  He halted in midstep and faced her, scowling. "Sarah, I am the Earl of Innsbruck. I own a townhouse in London, a castle in Scotland, and an estate in Surrey the size of Tarrant County. You’ll have three houses to make a home. "

  "I don't care." She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her sky-blue skirt. "I don't want to live there. I want to live in Fort Worth. My mother is here."

  "Your mother can come with us. She'll like London. She can attend the theater every night if she wishes."

  "My mother won't leave Texas. This is our home, Nick. We have roots here. We have family here."

  "Well, I don't! My family is in England. I have three sisters and a father who want me back."

  "That brings up the question of why they let you go in the first place. I'm sorry, but I have no desire to claim as relatives people who abandon a family member with no more than a flicker of conscience. Frankly, I'm surprised you can."

  Fire flared in his eyes. "It is so easy for you, is it not? Only someone who has never been alone, who has never suffered a moment's doubt about belonging, could stand there and say what you just said. Lass, you are so spoiled you stink."

  She gasped and shoved herself to her feet. "How dare you!"

  "How dare I?" Nick braced his hands on his hips. "What about the vows you took this afternoon? Whatever happened to 'Wither thou goest, I will go'?"

  She folded her arms and stuck out her chin. "You promised to 'goest' to a ranch just outside of town!"

  "I didn't know my brothers were going to collide their horses and kill themselves when I said it."

  "That doesn't change the fact that you want to go back on your promise. Just like you did a little bit ago." Sarah gave her head a toss and her golden hair went flying. "Your word, Nicholas Ross, is no good. You're a liar."

  "Now wait just one minute."

  "You promised not to hurt me." Now it was Sarah's turn to pace, and she did so while waving her arms about theatrically. "You promised not to hurt me, but you did when you took my virginity, and you are trying to break your word about staying in Fort Worth."

  He muttered something beneath his breath, then snapped, "You're still a virgin, Sarah. I did not break your maidenhead. 'Tis as hard as your head. As far as hurting you goes, I apologize. I could have done better. However, your lack of cooperation didn't help the situation at all."

  She stopped short and brought her hands to her chest. "
Are you attempting to lay the blame on me?"

  "I'm not laying anything—certainly not you. And 'tis my wedding night, too. Who the hell would have believed that?"

  With that, Sarah burst into tears. Nothing was going right. Everything was a mess. Nothing was turning out as she had planned. As Nick stabbed his fingers through his hair, she whirled around, threw herself down on the settee, buried her head in her arms, and sobbed. So wrapped up was she in her misery, she didn't notice he'd taken a seat beside her until he pulled her into his arms.

  "Shush, now, lass. Dinna cry. Tis all right. Everything will be all right. Shush, now."

  "I... I... I don't want to live in England!" she wailed against his shoulder.

  "I ken. Perhaps we will not be required to live there. I dinna know the rules, Sarah. I simply know we must make the trip to Hunterbourne Manor to find out."

  "But that’s not my dream. I don't want to go to your father's manor house. I want to stay here and crochet doilies for our tables and hang pictures and plant daisies in clay pots on the front porch. I love daisies."

  "Aye, Sarah, I ken. Except the part about crocheting, that is. I wasn't aware you could crochet."

  That surprised a little laugh out of her, and the atmosphere between them eased. He drew back, putting space between them, then tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and attended to her tears. He followed each dab of the square of white linen against her cheek with a kiss, and Sarah felt her defenses melt with each gentle brush of his lips.

  Nick truly was a good man. He was honorable. She needed to remember that. It wasn't right of her to hold the marriage bed business against him. He was just a man, after all, and like any man, he wanted it. Like her mother said, putting up with it was a woman's lot in life. As far as this circumstance of his brothers' dying went, he certainly hadn't planned that. She wasn't being fair.

  Sarah sniffed, then said, "I'm sorry, too, Nick. I know you're not a liar."

  His smile was both tender and bittersweet as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "We will work it out. Dinna worry. Now, it has been a long day. Let's he down and take a wee nap. I want to hold you, Sarah. That's all, I promise. Just a wee cuddling. I will snore in your ear and perhaps when I awake, I will ken what to do about all of this. I have found it happens that way sometimes. I will go to sleep with a problem on my mind, and when I wake up, I have the solution."