His gaze grew tender. “I want you to feel tonight. Just feel me. I want to touch and taste every inch of you.” With a natural athletic grace, he shifted to her side. His hand stroked her breast through her silk robe.
The hot caress of his fingers caused her to move closer to his side, her earlier concerns forgotten as she melted under his touch. Her nipples came to hard peaks. Instinctively, she arched up into his hand, desperate to relieve the heaviness in her breasts.
Alex sighed. “You’re a perfect dream.”
Before she could utter a peep of protest, Alex untied her dressing gown. As he pushed the fabric down the length of her body, his hands stroked her bare skin. Frantically, she tried to hide her body by turning away.
Alex stopped her retreat. He leaned down and brought his cheek to hers as he whispered, “I don’t mean to frighten you. I want to see you.”
The roughness of his evening beard against her skin reminded her of a cat’s tongue. He was the most masculine creature she’d ever seen, and he was in her bed. The idea he wanted to inspect her left her unbalanced and unsure, ready to fall.
Alex lifted his face from hers, his gaze earnest. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. If his expression hinted at any disappointment, the only thing she’d remember about this night was his regret. His weight shifted as he leaned over her. With a gentle touch, he framed her face in his hands and turned her toward him.
He must have caught the doubt in her eyes. “I want you to watch as I look at you. It’s important for both of us,” he commanded. He drew back. His gaze perused her chest and down her abdomen before following the lines of her legs.
Alex’s mouth curved into a smile. “Just as I imagined.” He returned his attention to her breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. As he sucked, a twinkle of devilry shimmered in his eyes. With a flick of his tongue on the tip of her breast, he contemplated her. “Hmm. You taste perfect. Much better than the custard.” He delivered a smile worthy of a rogue.
Claire wanted to close her eyes to relieve the sudden burst of light-headedness, but she was mesmerized as he continued to lave her nipple. A tingle tantalizing in intensity came straight from her center and exploded through her body. When his engorged cock pushed against her thigh, she couldn’t help but moan and rock her breast into his mouth as she angled to feel him between her legs. The touch of his lips was a hot brand against her skin. His tongue circled and teased while his hand cupped and squeezed her other breast.
She had little experience with lovemaking, but he was a master with his gentle touch and caresses. His ravenous feasting was the most erotic sight she could ever have imagined.
“Alex…” Her fingers threaded his thick black hair as she tried to sit up. She had to find a way to keep her equilibrium in this tempest he had started. Cautious, she scooted away and sat up. “Alex, please.”
He groaned as if he enjoyed hearing his name on her lips. “Please more? Please harder? Tell me what you want. I’ll give everything to you.”
The look on his face was so sincere, it pierced her heart. There was only one answer she could give him. “More of your touch.”
Alex lowered her to the bed before he descended to continue his exploration. She watched his tongue meander its way onto her curved belly and her navel. Suddenly, he was too close to her most intimate parts. To stop his movement, Claire pulled at his shoulders. He looked at her briefly with a boyish smile and continued to her hips. Claire twisted, trying to calm the storm raging within her.
She couldn’t believe he wanted to look at her there. No one had examined her that closely before. She inhaled sharply as she watched him kiss her mons. She jerked to scramble away on the bed.
He grasped her hips and anchored her to the bed. “Claire, stop. I’ll not hurt you.” He looked at her through hooded eyes, then continued his exploration. She froze, unable to turn away.
“I promise you’ll enjoy this.” Like a feral beast, he pinned her with his gaze, eyes flashing as though aroused by her scent. Within seconds, his expression became languid with a lazy smile. With the slightest touch, he brushed through her curls before he found her center. He groaned and closed his eyes. “Sweeting, you’re wet.”
With those words, he lowered his head and kissed and licked her most private area. His touch brought her off the bed. She grasped the bedding, trying to find purchase as he fondled and excited her. Unhurried, he placed one finger into the entrance of her sex. In a gentle rhythm, he moved it slowly in and out. He kept using his tongue and lips as he kissed and sucked, totally captivating her. Claire arched her body to shift closer to his mouth. She could feel something building inside, a pressure, a need for more of Alex’s touch, for more of him.
Claire doubted she’d survive his sensual attack. “Alex, please…,” she whimpered, her breathing fast and shallow. A rush of new sensations raced through her body. All the while, he worshipped her with his tongue.
He pleasured her by replacing his mouth with the pad of his thumb as he continued to stroke her in a movement that was unlike anything she had experienced before.
His eyes flashed. “You’re ready, aren’t you?” His words were an aphrodisiac, taking control of her body. “I’ve thought about this moment for days. I want you to fall apart. Do it, Claire. For me.”
His fingers continued to entice as he tempted her to reach higher. Claire let the pleasure spill into every part of her body. It flowed from the end of her toes through her legs. The sensation rose, and an explosion of light cascaded through her body as it reached its pinnacle. She went over a cliff and kept on flying.
Eventually, her heartbeat slowed, and her body came back under her control.
She didn’t move when Alex came to lie next to her. His mouth met hers in a slow pursuit, learning every sensitive area of her lips. She could taste her essence, tart and wildly forbidden, when his tongue penetrated her mouth.
Alex brushed the hair from her face, and his eyes met hers. “That’s how you taste. You. And only you.” He closed his eyes. “Delectable.”
Claire turned on her side and faced him. He was slowly slipping past her reserve. The last time she had allowed that to happen, Archard had died. What if the same thing happened to Alex?
He brushed his lips across her jaw, settling his kiss into the tender skin of her neck. “I want to make love to my wife.”
She drew back and her gaze darted to his. “I need more time.”
Alex stopped unbuttoning the fall of his breeches. They stared at each other across a sudden ringing silence, the divide deafening. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I can’t. This was a mistake. It’s too soon.” Using the sheet as a robe, she scooted off the bed and faced him. God, how could she deny him? She wanted him more than anything.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his focus never wavering. “What is it?”
She blew out a short breath to gain control. “Your doubts. My curse.”
He raked one hand down his face as if he could wipe away her arguments, then exhaled. “You have every right to say no, but hear me out—”
“Alex, please understand. I care a great deal about our marriage.” Her cheeks grew hot. Restless, she started to pace. “We need to discuss what happened after our engagement was announced. And … and there are other things.”
“Such as?”
The last time she let someone close to her, he died. The last time she was near Wrenwood, she lost her parents. How could she make sense of any of this? She stopped by the bed and faced him.
“Claire,” he whispered. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one that ruined this night for us with my thoughtless words. We should have had a discussion before I took you to bed.” He rocked to his feet, and his mouth tightened into a straight line.
“No, please. I’m the one—”
He held up his hand to stop her words. “Ther
e’s no curse, Claire. You realize this. As to my doubts, I didn’t come to you tonight with any reservations.” He slowly picked up his shirt. “Perhaps it’s best if you tell me when you’re ready. When you’re settled and comfortable.”
He held her gaze for what seemed like eternity, then without another word, he left. The click of the door reverberated through her chamber.
She should never have allowed him into her bed. She was such a neophyte to marriage, beddings, and husbands. Trying to navigate this new life without a compass left her stranded with her only companion, the curse. A curse capable of stealing every bit of her happiness.
The harder she ignored the truth, the more it persisted. She was alone in this room, in this house, and in this marriage. His physical touch was an intimacy she craved, longed for, but not when there was so much to lose. Uncertainty hung over her bed along with that damned witching ball, like black clouds ready to burst.
When he gazed into her eyes and caressed her with his hands and lips, she felt cherished, protected, like someone significant. Someone desired by another human being. In those brief moments, she allowed herself to believe she could attain her dreams.
Could she take the risk? What if the curse struck Pemhill? What if she lost Alex?
Any rational person would think she deserved a room in Bedlam. She even thought so sometimes. Yet she couldn’t ignore what she’d lost in her life.
She was intelligent enough to acknowledge there wasn’t a curse. She had to remember that this time was different. He wasn’t in love with her, nor she with him. It would have been so easy to let him into her bed, doubts and all. During those sweet moments, she could have pretended he valued her while pretending she’d not lose another person she felt close to.
Deep waves of frustration rolled through her, and hot, stinging tears fell down her cheeks. She turned to the window and tried to focus on the black sky.
Tomorrow would bring a new morning and Wrenwood, where she would face the rest of her demons. If she had any luck on her side, perhaps she’d finally cleanse herself of the curse.
* * *
Alex leaned heavily on the connecting door. Still bloody hard from the effect of pleasuring his wife, his cock protested the wisdom of his decision to leave her chambers. His wife—beautiful and responsive with barely any coaxing—was more than he had ever imagined.
She said she was inexperienced, but it was difficult to tell. She was tentative but capable of letting her passion rise between them. When she’d found her release, her body had clamped down hard on his fingers.
Afterward, the expression on her face reminded him of the night at Lady Anthony’s. The rapid rise and fall of her chest accompanied by her wide eyes was something he’d never forget. She truly was unsettled, almost frightened.
Plus, he’d added fuel to her distress over his reaction to her confession regarding Archard. Did he have doubts about her truthfulness? Instinctively, he believed her.
Damn Lord Paul to hell. His claim of having had her, the innuendos and sly comments, marched straight into his wife’s bed and pushed him out. It had no place between what he and Claire had shared.
Christ, what had they shared together tonight? He closed his eyes and concentrated on her touch. He’d been without a woman in his bed for so long. At first, he’d thought it nothing more than confusing physical release with something else. However, deep inside, there was little doubt what the truth was. He was developing a true regard for his wife.
If possible, his cock throbbed harder as his thoughts returned to Claire’s creamy breasts and her sweet, wet center. He reached to take himself in hand.
The sound of low weeping came from Claire’s room. He attempted to recapture the pleasure and closed his eyes. He clenched his hand around the swollen cock-stand. Tugging up and down its length, Alex could remember only the stark devastation in her eyes. He tried pumping harder, but his cock revolted and softened in seconds.
He had lost his mind.
Chapter Eight
The thwacking of the straight edge against the leather strap was the only sound in the room. Alex sat under the customary hot towel that tamed the black stubble of his morning beard. Every morning, and sometimes in the evening, Jean-Claude prepared the straight edge for his shave before his bath. The valet sharpened the blade until it could split a spider’s silk in two with little effort.
A sudden eruption from the valet interrupted the normally tranquil ritual. “That infuriating maid asked to see me before retiring last night.”
“Aileen?”
Jean-Claude pulled the towel from Alex’s face and gave a terse nod. “In her snooty way, she demanded to know if I’d sought information about her mistress without your knowledge. I informed her I am your valet. Information I obtain about any subject while on duty is for you and you alone.”
Alex quirked his eyebrows. “Did she now?”
“Did I mention her arrogance? Because the woman is Scottish, she puts on airs. Must be why they call her ‘Airleen’ in the kitchens.”
Alex sat speechless. His cautious valet normally kept everything close to his vest. He debated whether to shave himself under the circumstances. Extra starch in his cravats was one thing, but razor cuts were another.
“Last evening, I asked Aileen to keep me informed of the marchioness’s schedule. I thought it best under the circumstances.” Jean-Claude dropped his hands, the razor a safe distance from Alex. “She turned livid at my request.”
“Why do you need the information?”
“I only want staff attending the marchioness who are comfortable with her. I’ve already discussed it with Simms and Mrs. Malone.” His valet took the towel and wiped the razor. “If I know the marchioness’s schedule, it’ll make it easier to make the assignments.”
“For what purpose?” His valet had his full attention.
“Rumors are swirling through the staff about Lady Pembrooke. One of the footmen asked Aileen outright about the curse.” Jean-Claude straightened. “Before I could send him away, the damage was done. Aileen appeared ready to tear his head off.”
“Of all the bloody times,” Alex murmured. Was this part of Claire’s unease from last night? He’d made a muck of last night on his own, but if his wife had heard a whiff of the staff’s unrest … She was facing an uphill battle to win their loyalty. “I’ll address it. Bring the footman to me.”
“There’s more, my lord. The staff thinks Aileen possesses the gift of sight since she’s Scottish.” His valet’s normally staid expression turned sour. “If you ask me, it’s more like the gift of a witch.”
“Need I remind you to play nice?” The strain between his valet and Claire’s maid was like a row between two siblings. “You two will work closely together.”
With a stiff nod, Jean-Claude lifted the razor to his neck. Apparently, it was safe to proceed with his shave.
The coming days would be busy in their household. With their respective days integrated, they would have to accomplish what was required of the marquess with a new wife. He was anxious to introduce her to his tenants and the village. It would cement her place within Pemhill.
With a scrape of the razor against his face, Alex released the breath he’d been holding. The image of her face last night haunted him. She was truly terrified of something. He only hoped it wasn’t of him. The best outcome for all would be to address Lord Paul’s claims as soon as possible. Away from the estate, they could repair what he’d done and never address it again.
With that thought lingering, Alex decided to seek her company earlier than the afternoon. They’d spend the day riding and enjoying each other. Whatever the housekeeper had planned for Claire could wait for another day. Time together was too important. While waiting for Jean-Claude to determine his wife’s whereabouts, he instructed Mrs. Malone to personally pack a picnic lunch for the two of them. It contained light and elegant delicacies such as boiled partridge eggs, breasts of chicken, cherry tarts, oranges, and a variety of cheeses. Perfec
t food he could feed to Claire with his fingers along with a bottle of wine.
The effort might allow him to come under her good graces again when he told her he’d had it specially prepared for her pleasure. It was the least he could do. The manner in which he’d left her to cry her eyes out sullied his best intentions last night, but this morning proved Claire correct. He shouldn’t have stayed in her bed, not when she was unsure of him.
Jean-Claude approached with deep lines engraved in his forehead. “My lord, the marchioness is not on the property. One of her horses is missing. Aileen refuses to tell me where she is.”
Alex’s blood pounded a heavy beat through his veins. “Get her maid now! Have Ares saddled. Ask if anyone saw her this morning.”
“Yes, my lord.” Jean-Claude ran up the steps to the family quarters.
Alex twisted his gloves in his hands. He’d wring the maid’s neck until she confessed where Claire was. Images crowded his mind of last night, and an ominous foreboding grew inside his gut. She was vulnerable. What if that damn curse caused her to flee, and she hurt herself? He had no idea how accomplished she was on a horse.
When the maid appeared at the top of the steps, Alex barked, “Where is she?”
Aileen’s eyes grew wide. She gripped the banister with both hands, as if it would protect her.
“Tell me,” Alex demanded.
The maid flinched at his tone. With quick, even steps, she descended into the entry-hall atrium where he waited. “My lord, the marchioness had an appointment this morning.”
“Where? With whom?” He fired the questions and took a step closer.
Aileen’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths. She held her ground and lifted her chin. “Wrenwood. I’ll bring her back.”
“Stay here. I’ll find her.” Alex turned for the stables. Aileen ran ahead and blocked his path. The idiotic woman dared to risk his ire.
“Please, my lord, I beg of you. Be gentle with her.” Tears streamed down her face.
He ignored her plea. Disgusted with the maid for not immediately complying with his demand and himself for leaving Claire crying her heart out last night, he mounted Ares and galloped for the neighboring estate. Aileen’s attitude ensured that whatever he found at Wrenwood, he would not be pleased. He just prayed to God she was still there.
The Bad Luck Bride Page 14