Forbidden

by Rachel Van Dyken

  It was some time later, and after Anna's maid had been enlisted in repairing her hair, that she found herself finally leaving the Crossby residence, glowing with the knowledge that she was loved.

  She took the hand of her footman as she entered the carriage, glancing at his face and absently wondering when they had hired a new one. Shrugging, she settled into the carriage. Lost in her own thoughts as it pulled her across the cobbled streets of London, she relished the knowledge that she'd see Cross in only a short time, as he presented his suit to her father.

  The carriage stopped suddenly. She glanced out the window, confused. Her door swung open and she startled, as a man dressed in black entered. Essie gasped as she reached for the door, but he was too quick. He pushed her back into the bench, rapped on the roof twice, sending the carriage into sharp movement. The man lost his balance momentarily, and in doing such, the dark hat he wore slipped and exposed his face and light colored hair.

  She felt her eyes widen in shock as she stared into the face of Jefferson Markfield, Lord Trighton.

  "You?" Essie questioned, her heart pounding with fear and confusion.

  "Shut up," he growled as he grabbed his hat and sat down. "You'll do as I say, understood? You little whore!" He spoke with a hysterical edge to his tone, his eyes wide and wild.

  Essie swallowed her fear, trying to simply think.

  "You… you told her."

  "Told who? What are you speaking of?" Essie tried to distract him as she scanned the carriage for anything she could use as weapon.

  "Miss Montray. You told her!"

  "Told her what?" Essie asked, trying to keep calm.

  "We have nothing! Nothing! She was eating out of my hand, I had her! And you ruined it! And now… now." He leaned forward slightly. "You're going to pay."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cross couldn't wait. Not with the elation he felt, with the utter joy that came from the knowledge that Essie was his, his betrothed.

  With every kiss, every touch, it was beyond tormenting, having everything he had desperately wanted be so close… though not his. At least not yet.

  He was overjoyed to realize that her passion matched his own, that where her kiss was inexperienced, she made up for it with enthusiasm. And if her kiss were that… zealous, heaven help him when they could enjoy all that lay beyond kissing!

  He was painfully aware of the temptation to experiment with that very idea before the wedding. Which was exactly why he was going to attain a special license.

  As soon as Essie left, he saddled his horse and followed her carriage down the side street onto the main thoroughfare towards the office of the Archbishop of Canterbury at Doctor's Common in London, to attain his license. However, rather than turning toward Grosvenor Street, Essie's carriage continued to go straight.

  Electing to follow, he missed his own turn off. His confusion grew as a hired hack began to trail Essie's carriage as well. Just as he urged his mount to catch up with them, a nearby carriage lost a wheel, sending the carriage into his lane, the horse pulling it, wild, and the driver trying desperately to right it. Cross' mount deftly side stepped, moving around the issue, but in the time it had taken him to clear the confusion, he saw a dark figure enter Essie's carriage.

  His heart stopped beating. His lungs ceased needing air as he watched, too far away to stop the nightmare from taking place before his eyes. With a primal growl, his heart continued its beat and his lungs drew in air as he saw red, an infuriating angry shade of it, coloring his world and eliminating all details but the carriage holding the woman he loved.

  He urged his mount into a gallop as he pursued the now moving carriage. It only took a moment for him to catch up. Systematically, he evaluated the situation. Two men; a driver and a gentleman inside the carriage.

  He needed control of the carriage, so, pulling hat down to hide his face, he pulled in front of the carriage, trying to appear as if struggling with his horse.

  "Pardon! My horse, a little spooked." he called out, continuing to maneuver till Essie's carriage came to a complete stop.

  "What'er ye doin'? Learn ta' manage yer horse!" The coachman called out, in a distinctive Cockney accent. Most assuredly, not Essie's driver.

  Cross dismounted and strode towards the unfamiliar man.

  "What—" Cross reached up and pulled the stranger down on the left side of the carriage. Not giving the man an opportunity to cry for help, he gave him a right hook across the face, sending him unconscious into the filthy London gutter.

  One down, one to go.

  "What's the meaning of this?" A man's voice asked from the other side of the carriage. Cross bent, hiding behind the opposing side; looking under he watched, seeing only a pair of boots as the man disembarked from the carriage. He waited until the man walked toward the front of the carriage and then he stood. Through the window of the carriage, he saw Essie, her face tear streaked. When she saw him, her expression transformed into one of hope but quickly shifted to fear as she pointed to the front of the carriage.

  Cross gave her a quick reassuring nod and walked around the back of the carriage. Glancing around the edge, he saw the man in black with his back towards him. Cross rushed forward, tackling the man to the ground. The man rolled over, ducking out of Cross' grip and was nearly trampled by a pair of bays pulling a barouche. Pushing himself upright, recognition slammed into him as the familiar face of Trighton stared at him with hatred. Trighton lurched to his feet, the roared as he charged Cross.

  "Blackguard!" Cross called out, meeting his charge and hitting the side of Trighton's face with a roundhouse. Stumbling back, Trighton wiped the blood from his lip while a deranged smile tilted his quickly swelling lips. "That whore ruined everything!" He came at Cross, swinging wildly. Cross ducked and landed a blow to Trighton's mid-section.

  Trighton gasped and staggered back. Cross circled him, careful to remain out of the path of upcoming carriages. He noticed that several people had stopped to stare and watch.

  "How dare you call her that." Cross spoke darkly, his teeth clenched as he landed a solid blow against Trighton's ear, knocking him to his knees.

  "No one wants me! And it's all her fault! She cried off!" Trighton screeched, his hand at his ear. He scurried to his feet and charged Cross.

  Cross simply side stepped, then kicked Trighton's back, sending him sailing against the cobbles. "You asked her too, you filthy bastard."

  "I had to! It was the only way! We have nothing. Nothing!" Trighton swore as he rose once more, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

  It was all madness, Trighton was senseless as he spat blood and shifted his gaze wildly.

  "And you have less now," Cross muttered as he saw two constables make their way towards them. He gestured to Trighton and the officers nodded. After a short struggle, Trighton was subdued and dragged away, swearing as he left a bloody trail. The officers arrested the driver, who was just now coming about from the lethal blow dealt him by Cross. With nothing else to see, the crowd dispersed.

  Cross breathed in deeply through his nose, calming his heart and the intense desire to finish off Trighton. He jumped slightly when he felt a soft hand at his shoulder.

  "Cross?" Essie's worried tone pulled him from his anger.

  He turned and pulled her into a tight embrace. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet scent of her, the rose water that clung to her skin. "Are you injured? Harmed in any way?" He gently pulled her shoulders from his embrace as his gaze raked her body, searching for any sign of maltreatment.

  "No, no. I'm quite well, now at least." Essie offered him a brave smile but it didn't reach her eyes, they were still haunted and afraid.

  Reaching up, Cross began to touch her face before retreating, noticing his filthy gloves. He savagely took off the offending garments and tossed them to the street. Trailing her jaw with his fingers, he traveled his caress down till he rested on her shoulders. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers, breathing deeply, reminding himself over and ov
er that it was finished; that Essie was safe.

  "I'm so thankful you were here," she whispered.

  "I was on my way to the Doctor's Common… needing a special license," he whispered, opening his eyes and leaning back, grinning at her.

  "Yes, you most certainly do need one." Essie smiled, this time the joy reaching her eyes.

  "Perhaps I'm acting a bit prematurely, since your parents aren't even aware that I intend to marry you at first opportunity." He chuckled slightly, reaching up to tug on an errant curl, overwhelmed with the relief that all was now well.

  "If my parents respond anything akin to how your mother took the news, I think we have precious little to worry us," she replied, glancing down shyly.

  Cross leaned forward, pressing a fervent kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes he thanked God for delivering her safely into his arms. "Let's get you home," Cross murmured against her skin.

  "Yes, please," Essie agreed softly as she wound her arm around his and he led them down the street. Thankfully it wasn't too far of a walk, but it would be a welcome distraction, allowing him time to relax from the fear and anger than had rocked his world.

  That had threatened to shatter it.

  He reached over and squeezed Essie's hand as it rested on his arm. As she offered him a warm smile full of trust and love, he returned the smile, thankful. Because even though fear tried to conquer the day, and steal the joy of the moment, it didn't win.

  Love held that honor.

  And always would.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Essie took deep breaths as she walked down the stone aisle of St. George's towards Cross as he waited for her. His gaze was almost too intense to hold, the joy, the raw masculinity of his presence was overwhelming, yet she couldn't glance away. His deep blue eyes spoke to her with every step, pulling her in, reminding her how much she was loved.

  How much she was wanted.

  As she shared a warm smile with Cross as they faced the rector, she tried to memorize every nuance of the ceremony, cherishing it in her heart.

  She wanted to remember the strong tone, the solid confidence of Cross's words when he repeated this vows. The smoldering gaze he sent her as he spoke the words and the swirling heat in her belly it caused. Every glance he sent her, every breath of air that was scented with a hint of cinnamon and clove that clung to the air around him; all this she tucked into her memory.

  Soon, the ceremony was over… except the kiss.

  Essie bit her lip as she glanced up to her new husband, shy yet feeling a powerful boldness well within her, a courage born of desperate desire for the one you loved.

  Her husband's eyes twinkled as they smoldered like blue fire as he pulled her into the strength of his frame. Closing her eyes, she willingly gave herself over the spell of passion he wove over them as his warm lips pressed against hers.

  She expected a quick kiss.

  And once again, in true Cross fashion, she was surprised.

  His tongue teased her lips, flirting with them as he nipped her lower lip and sucked it teasingly.

  It only took a moment for her to return his kiss, tasting, teasing, loving him with all the joy in her heart.

  It was only when the priest cleared his throat that Cross gentled the kiss and slowly withdrew, a knowing grin on his face.

  Essie smiled in return, knowing that if kissing was as… delightful, everything else must be beyond imagining.

  And for the first time, she wondered why in heaven's name there was the social protocol of a Wedding Breakfast.

  The only thing she was hungering for was her husband.

  And if the burning gaze her husband continued to give her were any indication, he felt the same way about her.

  Cross cursed food of every sort, every glass of champagne, and every bloody person who congratulated them.

  It might be ungrateful, but to have to smile, converse and pretend that he wasn't dreaming of the moment he could leave and finally thoroughly love his wife, was the most acute form of torture he could imagine.

  And Essie wasn't helping! No, she'd send him the most flirtatious grins, sly little winks and at the table, she had run her slippered foot up his leg.

  He'd choked on his champagne.

  The minx had laughed.

  He'd turn the tables later, that much he vowed. He'd make her wait in sweet anticipation, close to completion till she—

  Saint's above! He needed to leave before he made a scene!

  Essie was speaking with his mother, so he skirted the edge of the room till he came up behind his wife, sliding his hands around her waist he tickled her softly till she jumped. It was poor manners, he knew, but it was only his mother.

  Of course, his mother narrowed her eyes and was about to scold when he interrupted her. "We're leaving, just wanted to say good-bye." Cross spoke in a carefree manner as he began pulling Essie backwards, towards the door.

  His mother grinned, shaking her head. "I told you he wouldn't last very long!" She called to Essie.

  Cross chuckled. "I find that there are certain things I have not patience for. It's truly one of my worst faults."

  Essie turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "Impatient?"

  "In every way possible, yet as impatient as I am currently, I do believe that you'll find that I have quite the attention span for other… endeavors." He allowed himself the pleasure of raking her body with his gaze.

  Merciful heavens. She was a goddess, perfect in every way meant to entice a man, tempt him beyond his ability to withstand.

  Thank the Lord he had no need for self-control any longer.

  As they entered the carriage, Essie's face began to glow in a becoming blush as she didn't sit on the opposing side as usual, but promptly sat on his lap.

  "I do believe this is one of your more brilliant schemes," Cross whispered as he hungrily took her lips, nipping and tasting them.

  "I do believe leaving early was one of your more brilliant schemes!" she teased. She continued to kiss him, and Cross growled as her velvet tongue danced with his.

  As soon as the carriage arrived at his newly leased townhome in Mayfair, Cross wasted no time in pulling his wife into his arms and heading directly to the master bedroom. Her perfectly curved frame was a welcome weight as he shifted her slightly so that he could open the door to their wedding bower. The warming crackle of the fire in the hearth welcomed them as he kicked the door closed with his boot. Essie giggled as he nuzzled her neck with his nose, encouraging her to tilt her head just enough to so that he could taste the sensitive flesh at her throat. She willingly obliged, offering him full access.

  It was heaven.

  And it was only the beginning.

  He kissed her once more, savoring the moment, allowing the anticipation to build up into the moment. Gently, he lowered her to the ground till her dainty feet touched the floor. She turned to face him, lifting her gaze to meet his; her dark lashes framed her eyes, a thick haze of desire swirling in them. He lifted his hand to cradle her face and gently leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers, sweetly.

  The passion he felt for her was threatening to burn him to ashes from within, but he wouldn't allow his own impatience, his primal desire to brand her as his own, overtake the need to ease her into their intimacy.

  Essie's hands traced up his chest and slowly reached up under his coat, coaxing him to relax his shoulders so that she could remove it. Her hands trailed fire where ever they touched, setting him further aflame. Once his coat was discarded, Cross took her lips with the passion of a man drinking in the one he loves, while his hands reached up and began to tug at her pins. Essie broke away as she giggled slightly.

  "Allow me." She bit her lip as she slowly pushed him backwards till he was sitting on the bed. He tugged on her hand, trying to pull her to the bed as well, but she teasingly ducked out of reach, winking.

  Cross watched, transfixed, as Essie blushed but began to remove her pins slowly.

  Seductively.

  With ea
ch pin that dropped to the floor, Cross held tighter to the bed till his knuckles were white with restraint. Then at last, her hair, the golden flaxen colored temptation, flowed free and she ran her fingers through it, loosening it. It hung the length of her back, surrounding her in a halo of light.

  Cross started to stand, and she crooked her finger, beckoning him to come to her. Closed the distance between them, only to have her turn and present her back.

  "Please?" She asked.

  Cross's gaze dropped to her dress, seeing the sash that secured the Grecian style dress she wore. He tugged it loose and trailed his fingers across her shoulders, removing the dress from her shoulders. Kissing the exposed flesh, he grinned as he heard Essie's sharp intake of breath. Deftly, he removed the dress till it pooled at her feet in a whisper of silk. He reached his hand around her waist and grasped her hand, pulled her back into the frame of his body, he tugged her gloves, removing them and tossing them aside. He trailed warm, possessive kisses down the side of her neck and down her back to where her corset strings awaited his attention.

  Tugging them free, he helped her to free herself from the final restraint, from the final barrier between them. Her arms instinctively covered herself.

  "I do believe it's your turn," Essie whispered as she turned in the circle of his arms, reaching up to kiss him, lingeringly.

  "As you wish." Cross wasted no time in removing his shirt and breeches, feeling a swell of pride as her eyes raked his body, her breathing growing rapid. Her eyes roamed him as he stood before her in all his glory.

  As she stood before him in all of hers.

  But the time of exploration had only begun, and Cross strode towards her, capturing her lips in an explosion of passion as he ran his fingers over the bare flesh of her back, savoring the sensation of no barriers between them. Essie followed his lead towards the bed till his knees encountered the edge of the mattress. Swiftly and with lethal grace, he swept her into his arms and lowered her onto the bed, savoring her warm and welcoming flesh as she welcomed his weight.