His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2)

by Alice Coldbreath

  The neckline on the blue gown she wore was unfashionably high and at his precise moment he had never been so glad of anything in his life. Current court fashion dictated the necklines were worn very low and Fenella’s abundant figure would be spilling out of her dress. He wasn’t sure he could cope with such a sight in such close confinement. It had been bad enough at the feast the previous night. He tugged at his collar as he strove to banish such an image from his rioting mind’s eye. What the hells was wrong with him? As if suddenly catching on to his inner turmoil, Lady Fenella straightened up and blushed.

  “Oh – I almost forgot. How ungrateful of me. Yes, two very lovely gowns arrived from signor Pezzini.” A sudden thought occurred to her which had her practically jumping out of her seat. Oswald spilt a trickle of water down his sleeve. If only the dratted woman would keep still and let him get a control of himself!

  “Shall I fetch them, so you can see?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he assured her.

  She settled back into her seat and peered at him again, leaning in closer. “Indeed, you do look tired, my lord,” she told him softly. “Can I not persuade you to an early night’s sleep?”

  Her eyes were bright with concern. He had been quite wrong about their color, he noticed distractedly. Up close you could see they were more of a deep amber color than brown. Her mouth, he chose not to dwell on for it was wide and pink, the bottom lip disturbingly plump. Oswald’s nostrils flared as he imagined her sat on his lap clad in nothing but a transparent shift. He stood up jerkily from the table. “I find I am tired. No,” he said as she came to her feet. “You do not have to rush to join me.”

  “Oh, tis no bother,” she assured him. “If I come with you now, I can show you the gowns.”

  “Fenella,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut a moment. The poor woman was clearly worried he was overworking, while he was sat imagining her underneath him! It wasn’t like him. He wasn’t usually such a pig.

  “What is it?” she sounded alarmed.

  “Pour me a cup of wine,” he gritted out.

  “But you do not drink?” she pointed out, even as she reached dutifully for the wine jug.

  “There are occasions when I do,” he corrected her.

  An expression of curiosity flickered across her face, but some instinct held her back from asking what occasions. Instead she poured his wine and handed it to him. He tossed it down and handed it straight back to her. “Another,” he said.

  Fenella’s eyes widened, but she re-filled his cup. He took it and carried it with him toward the bedroom. He heard her footsteps following him as trusting as a lamb, and prayed for strength. He had promised her, that he would be considerate and give her time. His hard, yearning body did not care one whit for this. It was aching and ready to cleave to her and none other. She shut the bedroom door behind them and he set the wine down by his bedside and unbuttoned the top of his tunic. The wine was already flowing through his veins, making him flushed, though it had not taken the edge yet off his need. He could hear rustling behind him and guessed she was retrieving her new gowns to show to him. Gowns he had absolutely no interest in seeing. He shut his eyes briefly and steeled himself to ignore the steady pulse in his groin. Abstinence had been a way of life for him for so long, that desire was almost a stranger to him. He had honestly thought he could sleep beside a wife and it not mess with equanimity in the slightest. He had been a bloody fool.

  “This one is very lovely, is it not?” she said happily holding an expanse of green-gold brocade up for him to admire.

  He gazed past the gown to focus on her and the blue gown she wore. “Very lovely,” he said. “Take off that gown,” he said testily. “I don’t want to see you wearing it again.”

  She looked startled, maybe even a little crestfallen. But she did not argue. Of course not, he told himself savagely. She was used to peevish, unreasonable husbands. Instead she draped her new gown over a chair and to his alarm made her way round to his side of the bed. She turned her body so that her back was toward him. “Do you mind?” she asked. Dimly he realized she was angling her lacings toward him to unfasten. “Twill be the last time for Trudy will start on the morrow and-”

  He put his hands to her waist and yanked her almost roughly toward him. As his fingers worked on the strings, his mind raced. He wanted her. And why the hell shouldn’t he have her? She was his. He had the documents to prove it.

  “Is all well?” she asked timidly as he prized the lacings apart. He spun her round and clamped his hands to her waist again.

  “You call me husband now,” he said abruptly.

  Her gaze wavered a moment uncertainly. “Yes,” she nodded.

  “Does that mean you have accepted me as such?” He had to work to keep his voice calm and even. He sounded confrontational, though it was not his intention.

  She seemed to consider this for a heartbeat before answering. “Yes,” in a quiet voice.

  The pause annoyed him. He knew it was irrational and didn’t give a damn.

  “Am I your husband, Fenella?” he asked in a hard voice.

  “Yes,” she answered, her eyes flying to his and he had the oddest feeling she was trying to comprehend his gaze rather than his words. That probably wasn’t something he should encourage. When had she started doing that?

  “I want to bed you,” he said harshly. “Tell me now if it’s too soon.”

  She looked, quite frankly, astonished. “Oh,” she said. Then seemed to struggle for words. “Of course, if that’s what you want, husband-“

  “That is what I want,” he interrupted her rudely. “I want it now.” Inwardly somewhere, Oswald Vawdrey the courtier, was wincing at his lack of finesse. Unfortunately for Fenella, his crude Vawdrey blood was up. Thank gods she wasn’t a virgin, though the thought that worm Ambrose Thane had touched what was his, made his blood boil even hotter. He remained rooted to the spot, his eyes trained on her as if she was his prey.

  “V-very well,” she stammered. Then looked away, her cheeks bright red. “Shall I undress and-”

  “Yes, for starters,” he said and started ripping off his own clothes. She began unpinning her veil and took a few steps toward her side of the bed. He reached out with a sharp “No,” to prevent this and she halted, turning back to face him in surprise. He had removed his tunic and shirt now and was unfastening his chauses. “Put your clothing on that chair,” he said with a sharp nod toward it. Fen opened her mouth as if to argue but then thought better of it. She laid her veil over the cushioned seat and then started unfastening her velvet headdress. He stripped his chauses off his legs and removed his tented braies in a trice. Once he was naked, he advanced on Fenella and started yanking down her bodice. Once he’d divested her of the gown he flung it on the chair and put his hands to the hem of her thin shift.

  “May I please keep the shift on?” she asked in a strangled tone.

  He frowned. The shift was practically transparent and hid nothing. His instinct was to refuse her request, he wanted nothing between them. He forced this impulse down and released the hem, instead put his hands to her waist, walking her backwards toward the bed. Her breathing was shallow but she didn’t protest and he followed her down onto the mattress, his eyes not leaving hers. Her gaze skittered away and then returned before flickering round the room.

  “Will you not snuff the candles out?” she whispered.

  “No,” he replied tersely.

  “Can we get under the covers?”

  “Are you cold?” he asked. He doubted it. His far bigger body was covering hers entirely and he could feel how much heat he was throwing out. He felt like his body was ablaze for her. He guessed that dolt Thane had only taken her under the covers with no light. Wearing a smock.

  “No,” she admitted with a frown. “I’m not cold, but you’re shivering.” She placed a hand on his upper arm and he almost had to bite back an exclamation.

  “Not with the cold,” he admitted though gritted teeth.

  “
What then?” she asked faintly.

  “Need,” he answered in a low voice.

  “Need?” her eyes flew wide.

  “My need to join with you.”

  Her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ and he felt her tremble slightly beneath him. She slid her hand down his upper arm in what she might have imagined was a comforting gesture, but he was far too over-stimulated for her touch.

  “Fenella,” he breathed and then his mouth was on hers, insistent and demanding her participation. She whimpered when his kiss turned open-mouthed and carnal, her fingers, tightening again on his arms, but she did not try to pull away. He ravished her sweet, tender mouth and rocked his hips against her in simulation of what his body craved so badly from hers. She struggled slightly against him and he pulled back, only to realize she had understood his unspoken demand and was sweetly parting her legs beneath him. He groaned, sliding his hand under her shift and cupping her intimately, his thumb sliding through the dark brown curls. She sucked in a shocked breath as he petted her there, her gaze seeking his for reassurance. After a moment she relaxed against his touch, so he hoped his scorching gaze managed to give her what she needed, before he pushed a finger into her tight, slick heat. Her eyes flew wide again at his groan and he felt his brow start to bead with sweat at the idea of holding out much longer. She felt small though, and he didn’t want to hurt her. He remembered Thane had been absent for two years and forced himself to breathe steadily and take her mouth in a gentler kiss as he kept up his ministrations until he felt her start to pant and move against him. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asked. Though in truth, he knew he was still rushing her.

  “Yes,” she answered and he aligned himself and started to push inside her. She made some small noise of discomfort which he could well believe, as she was struggling to take him. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he forced himself to say. “And I will stop.” But her only reply was to grip his arms tighter, so he continued to bury his length into her until he was deep, and their groins tightly flush against one another. He was actually shaking now, from the effort of holding back. He kissed her again and felt her take a deep breath. “Thank you for being patient,” she whispered. “You’re very big and for a moment there…” words seemed to fail her.

  “You’ve taken me,” he said gruffly. If she compared him now to Thane he wasn’t sure how he would react.

  “Yes,” she breathed and gave a small wriggle which made him groan. “Are you, alright?” she asked uncertainly.

  “No,” he answered tersely. “I need to move.”

  “Oh, of course.” Tentatively, she slid her hands up from his biceps to his shoulders,

  The words had barely left her mouth, and he was surging forward, pressing her back into the pillows and thrusting into her tight heat. Time stood still. He caught his breath and felt his heart reverberate through his entire being. He closed his eyes and did it again. She was softer than mink, sleeker than silk, her breath on his neck felt exquisite, her flesh against his made him want to pass out from sheer pleasure. He drew back and thrust again, luxuriating in the feeling with a low roar which came from deep in his chest. Her body under his was a revelation. So, this was where his wife belonged.

  “Oswald?” her voice was breathy. The fact she had spoken his given name made him gasp. He had to steel himself against the impulse to prematurely spill his seed, as he throbbed deep within her. He gritted his teeth. Speech was beyond him, even if his life depended on it. The pleasure had struck him dumb. All he could do was move his body against hers in sensuous worship and beg her with his eyes not to ask him to stop. Looking into the depths of her own, was dangerous. He could lose himself there. To distract himself, he brushed kisses against her brow, her jaw and finally her delicious mouth. She bumped against him, falling out of sync every so often with his steady rhythm. Every collision of their flesh was a delight. Unable to resist, he ran a palm down her full bouncing bosom and she shuddered and whimpered and rubbed against him, as if seeking his touch. The look on her face was one of astonishment mingled with shy delight. It drove him crazy to see it there.

  “Say my name again.” He barely recognized his own voice it was so gravelly.

  “Oswald,” she marveled. “Husband.”

  His own body’s response took him aback. If anything, his ardor climbed higher. All finesse was going out the window. His desire was riding him hard, like he was Fenella. Reaching down, he hooked her leg over his forearm, opening her up to take his thrusts as he needed her to. He needed her to take it all. For the life of him, he could not stop groaning as he pummeled into her. He set his jaw to stave off the overwhelming pleasure. He needed this. So badly. He forced himself to slacken off the punishing pace. “Fenella?” Her hand slid up his back as she gave a soft sob that had him pulling back to look at her face. “Am I hurting you?” It was an effort to form words. His body was given over purely to sensation. He broke out now in a light sweat, as he resisted the impulse to pound into her to oblivion as he craved to.

  “No,” she assured him shakily. “It’s just –” her face twisted. “I hardly know. I feel so strange-” Her hips shifted against him and she gave a soft. “Oh!” and collapsed back against the mattress, gripping the sheets.

  His pained expression cleared. Her own body was plainly seeking the same release as his. “There?” he asked with relief, following her lead. He moved his own hips experimentally in a similar motion, and felt a deep shudder run through her whole body. She gave a strangled gasp and struggled to sit up. “No – please,” she sobbed. “You must - stop that at once. Or I hardly know what will happen!”

  A sudden suspicion had his mind reeling. Surely, surely that bastard Thane could not be so inept, that she knew not the pleasures of the marriage bed?

  He rolled onto his side taking her with him, so his weight was no longer pinning her to the pillows. “You’re not in discomfort?” he clarified, carefully dropping his hand to cup her bottom.

  “N-no,” she sobbed. Her whole body was trembling, she was strung so taut. Being inside her was almost unbearable. Her body’s embrace was so hot, and tight he felt like he might lose his mind if she did not give him full reign over it.

  “Do you trust me, Fenella?” he asked, stroking a thumb where the crease of her buttock met the top of her leg. She nodded her head, though she buried her warm face in his shoulder. He heard a muffled, ‘yes’. “Then trust me now, my love,” he said and swiftly rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his full weight and plunging back into her with the full driving length of his cock. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and he felt her convulse around him as her body climaxed and she went up in flames for him. His chest constricted and then expanded as she experienced the rapture he gave her. Her fingers dug into him, her back arched and tears sprang from her eyes as she pulsed and throbbed on his dick. Baser instincts took over as he drove repeatedly into the grip of her blissful body. He thrust and thrust again, keeping a ruthless check on his own release as she yelled and sobbed her surprise and pleasure. Her heels dug into the mattress, her legs shook, her eyes flew wide and her body writhed against him in unspeakable pleasure. Disjointed words which made no sense burst from her lips. Her tight sex gripped his staff so hard he had to close his eyes to withstand it. And finally, with a sigh, she went as limp as a rag and he risked taking her mouth again as his burning throat ached to. Her mouth was cool and delicious. He was still hard as iron, burning for her. Flexing his hips, he let her feel his still hungry cock in her and Fen moaned, tearing her mouth from his, her eyes flying open. “Wha-?” she panted in dismay, her chest heaving and her face streaked with tears. She looked utterly shocked and bewildered. “You’re still-?” He thought she looked a little frightened.

  “Do you want me to pull out?” he forced himself to ask.

  She swallowed. “You’re not satisfied?” she whispered disbelievingly. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, his voice thick and gravelly. He dropped h
is forehead to touch against hers. “It’s been a long time since I was with a woman.” He swallowed, avoiding her eyes. “Well over a decade.”

  Fen gazed up at him, her lips parted, her breath coming in rapid pants.

  “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was raw. She tugged at her arms where he held them and he released them at once, steeling himself for her words.

  “No, I want you to…find release too,” she said putting her hands lightly to his face.

  His gaze snapped to hers. “Say it again?” he gritted out.

  She looked nervous, but repeated “I want you to find release in me,” with a slight lift of her chin.

  Holy hells. He didn’t have it in him to debate with her any further. With a muffled groan he surged forward into her, bracing his arms against the mattress to try and keep himself from squashing her flat into the mattress. She gave a faint yelp, but offered no resistance as he hammered into her with renewed vigor. “Fenella,” he said hoarsely. For no fathomable reason he wanted her eyes on him, her mouth on him, her hands on him. The poor girl had no idea. He was so greedy for her, it actually scared him a little. How did you tell your wife you wanted her hands squeezing your ass, tight? Her mouth, framing your name? Oswald shook his head. It had never entered his head to ask such a thing of any bed-partner. It beggared belief that he would want it now from his wedded wife.

  “What is it?” she asked unevenly.

  He could feel her soft breasts bouncing at his every thrust. He wanted to taste them. “I want to put my mouth to you,” he confessed shakily. His words conjured another image. His mouth between her thighs, but he knew that was out of the question. Just the thought of it made him groan aloud. Fenella raised her head and kissed him chastely on the mouth. It surprised him so much, her taking the initiative, that his cock throbbed and he started to spend inside her. With a muttered curse, he reached down and grabbed the back of her knees, spreading her soft plump thighs even wider so he could sink deeper still. Fen gasped as he pressed deep and he groaned loudly at the glorious sensation. “Oh gods, yes. Fenella.” he cried raspily as the bed creaked and the frame bumped against the wall. He closed his eyes, the muscles on his neck strained as Fen’s arms slipped around his back, the gesture of acceptance proving his undoing as, with a shout, he released inside her completely. She held him tightly in her arms, until he collapsed entirely against her, fully sated.