Bound to Be a Groom

by Megan Mulry

  When he turned to look into her eyes, he felt exposed and raw. “Do you know what it is to want something, to crave something so deeply?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, touching him lightly, encouraging him.

  “But then you know it’s impossible. It’s something society or humanity or the universe will never permit. So you spend a lifetime convincing yourself that your dreams are . . . impossible. That you are not allowed to have those dreams. Maybe little pieces of them, but never the whole dream.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “We all three know what it is to feel like that, love. To want something and fear you are not only wrong to wish it but perhaps even damned.”

  He nodded.

  “But you have bucked convention all your life. You have your title and wealth and the freedom that grants. What dream have you ever been denied?”

  He looked across to where Sebastian was coming partially awake, with Anna still sound asleep against his chest. Sebastian’s smile was a slow, dreamy hello.

  “That,” Farleigh whispered. “Look at him.”

  Pia turned to see Sebastian’s angelic smile and continued to watch until his eyes drifted shut again. She turned back to face Farleigh. “He is a beautiful person.”

  Farleigh smiled and shook his head. “I know.”

  She reached under his chin to force him to look at her. “And so are you. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I don’t deserve what you three have. I am not—”

  She leaned in and kissed him, rough and biting. She didn’t stop until he was nipping her back and they were both a little breathless. “That’s better,” she said. “We shan’t have any of that unworthiness nonsense this late in the game.”

  But he felt his smile fading again. “When you spend your whole life convincing yourself of one thing, it’s hard to let it go in a single afternoon.”

  Pia smiled. “Well, as you said, it’s going to be a very, very long afternoon, isn’t it?” His smile returned, but her brow furrowed. “Then again, if any of this has to do with you regretting asking me to be your wife, I shan’t hold you to it—”

  He grabbed her this time, both hands digging into the turn of her shoulders. “No! Regret? No. I’m in awe. I thought you were regretting it. I can’t believe it even makes sense. I can’t believe you said yes. It doesn’t make sense!”

  She smiled and leaned down to kiss his hand where he held her tight enough to leave a mark. “Nothing of any real importance makes perfect sense, does it, darling?”

  He leaned in and kissed her again, hard and loving.

  After he stopped, she looked confused for a moment. “So, I will be a duchess?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I knew you were a scheming wench at heart!”

  “How far-fetched that sounds! Me! The very plain, very unremarkable Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal, a scheming wench.”

  “You are no longer plain or unremarkable, my dear. If you ever were to begin with.”

  “When you look at me like that I almost believe you.”

  “And how do I look at you?” he taunted, letting the backs of his hands toy with the tips of her full breasts.

  Her voice was getting rough. “You look at me like I am dark and earthy and strong.”

  “Quite so . . .” He squeezed one nipple, hard, and she closed her eyes and rode the piercing sensation. “Come with me,” he ordered, low and sure.

  She followed him out of the tent, wanting nothing more than to be taken by him the way he had taken Sebastian. Once they were out in the clearing, she turned, breathless, to face him, expecting a barrage of roughly barked orders that would culminate in Farleigh slamming into her.

  Both of them stood there, naked as babes, but instead of a sensual attack, Farleigh dropped to one knee and held her hand in both of his.

  “Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? Will you be the mother of my children? Will you love me—and Anna and Sebastian—as long as we all four shall live?”

  Her insides caved at the unaccountable tenderness and sincerity of his proposal. She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms. “Yes, Farleigh. Yes yes yes.” She pulled at his hair and kissed him hard. Within a few seconds they were a tangle of arms and legs and lips and tongues. She scratched at him and watched his blue eyes darken with desire.

  “You want to fight me, Pia?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. She breathed out of her nose, like a beast. “Don’t you dare hold anything back from me, you promise?”

  When he leaned down and bit the tip of her breast, she let out an aching cry. He dragged his nails down the center of her chest, along her smooth stomach. With his other hand he grabbed her wrists together and held them above her head. She arched up toward him.

  “You want me to fuck you like I fucked Sebastian, don’t you?”

  She whimpered and nodded her reply, crying out again when he began to play with her arsehole as he said all those filthy things, hot and close to her ear.

  “Alas . . . I think I’ll fuck you properly first. All that begetting an heir and whatnot.” He pressed his cock against her pussy, and she begged with a string of Spanish gibberish for him to take her. “Because a duchess must do her duty, isn’t that right, Duchess?”

  “Oh God, fuck me, Farleigh! I beg you!” she cried out in her thickly accented English.

  He reared back and laughed. “You are the perfect duchess for me, Pia. Begging to be fucked. Is this what you want?” He pushed the head of cock harder against her wet, swollen pussy.

  She tried to lift her hips to take him in, but he shoved her hip back against the soft grass. “You’ll take what I give you, when I give it.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she purred.

  He smiled at her feigned compliance. “You will fight me, won’t you?” She didn’t know if he was exacting a promise or stating a fact.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” She bucked up against him again.

  Pushing her arms even higher above her head, he growled, “Watch me, Pia.”

  She tried to focus her attention, but it was difficult as she was already slipping into the pleasure of his domination. Straining her neck up, she dipped her chin to her chest and watched as he entered her—until she couldn’t watch any longer, the sensations and power of his movements pressing cries of joy out of her burning throat. He pounded into her, holding nothing back, transporting both of them to a plane of physical and spiritual union. He finally spent himself inside her on an animal cry of satisfaction, matched by her answering shout of pleasure.

  Instead of loosening his hold on her wrists, he squeezed even tighter. “We will do very well together, I think.”

  “You think?” she said on a sigh, her eyes closed, her body pulsing with bone-deep fulfillment. He withdrew slowly, then relaxed alongside her, settling his strong protective arms around her.

  “Yes. That’s what I think.” He began to breathe more evenly as she felt the cooler hint of early evening begin to creep around them. “Come. Let’s go back into the tent so we don’t catch a chill.”

  He helped her up, and they walked, holding hands, back into the dim tent. Sebastian stirred when they entered and lifted the sheet to make room for them. Pia slid in next to Anna and reached up for Farleigh to lie behind her. He joined them—truly joined them—at last.

  Draping one large, possessive arm across the other three, Farleigh entwining his hand with Sebastian’s to form a sacred union around the women.

  “Home,” Farleigh whispered.

  And each of them agreed in their turn.

  Home.

  Mandeville House, Gamlingay, England – One year later

  Pia looked down at the baby suckling at her breast, then toward her beautiful husband and lovers. Farleigh was sitting on the couch a few feet away, reading a book while running his free hand languidly through Sebastian’s hair. Sebastian was on the floor playing with one of the new puppies, his shoulders resting between Farleigh’s
legs. Anna was at the desk writing a letter to Isabella and Javi about their upcoming visit to England.

  The four of them had spent the evening at a lengthy dinner with several neighbors, along with Farleigh’s mother who was visiting from London. The dowager duchess had returned to her house on the southern end of the estate after the meal, but she was planning on staying in the neighborhood for the rest of the summer. She hated being away from her grandson for more than a few days at a stretch. Pia adored her mother-in-law, and the arrival of the baby had only served to solidify their attachment.

  As much as she might love the dowager duchess, though, Pia loved the three people in this room a hundredfold. All four of them enjoyed being in company—they’d all laughed at the vicar’s silly tale about his runaway guinea hen, and Sebastian had played a beautiful piece on the piano in the music room afterward—but it was always a welcome relief when they could retire to their private drawing room and be at their ease with one another.

  When her son was finished eating, Pia adjusted her bodice and kept him in her arms. She loved to watch Edward sleep in that wonderful way so particular to happy infants: with complete abandon. When she looked up, Anna was standing up from the desk and trying to stretch her back. Pia smiled as Anna grumbled at the discomfort and inconvenience of being eight months pregnant in the middle of August. Whereas Pia had spent her entire pregnancy feeling like her body was finally embarking on its greatest purpose, Anna had declared she felt as though she’d been invaded by an army of Huns.

  “This baby had better thank me!” Anna complained.

  Pia shook with silent laughter so as not to wake Edward. “I’m sure he’ll be entirely grateful, love.”

  “He? I’ll probably have a cruel girl like myself, as some sort of divine punishment.”

  Sebastian looked up adoringly. “I would cherish a baby girl who was exactly like you.” If such a thing were possible, Sebastian appeared to love Anna even more now that she was round with his child. “And then a boy and another girl and another boy—”

  Anna covered her ears. “Sebastian! Darling! You must not torment me. The mere idea of all that reproduction is complete torture!”

  He smiled at the word.

  “Not that kind of torture!” Anna chided, but she smiled and walked toward her devoted husband. “I hereby declare that Pia must have all the babies in this family from here on out.”

  Pia laughed and then shook her head in joyful wonder. She felt the most delicious tingles run through her when Anna referred to the four of them as this family. “I would, you know,” Pia said on a contented sigh. “I would love to have your babies, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian looked at Pia and smiled. “I would love that, too.”

  Farleigh looked at Anna and opened his mouth.

  “Don’t even think about it, Farleigh!” Anna snapped.

  They all four laughed, and Anna collapsed on the couch between Pia and Farleigh. She was in such a state of frustration, Pia almost felt sorry for her. But not quite. Since Anna was always in the habit of rushing and managing and controlling, it was delightful to see her finally brought to heel by six or seven pounds of new life in her womb. She was subdued in a way Pia found enchanting.

  Anna rested her head on Pia’s shoulder. “I’m so tired all the time. How can you stand it?”

  Pia kissed her cheek. “I felt so peaceful. I didn’t feel tired. Now I feel . . .” Pia looked around the lovely yellow room in the beautiful country manor where the four of them lived with the new baby—and soon, the second baby. They were building a profound life together, a future. “I feel so overarchingly grateful. We’re so lucky. And I don’t want to dilute a moment of that with the slightest hint of bitterness.”

  Anna sighed and shut her eyes. “You always make me feel better, Pia. How do you do that?”

  “I love you, I suppose, which helps.” She reached her free arm around Anna’s narrow shoulders. “Come. Rest with us.”

  Anna smiled and snuggled closer to Pia and the baby. “This is nice.”

  “It is,” Pia agreed.

  When Anna had fallen asleep completely, Sebastian stood up quietly and lifted her into his strong arms. “I will carry her upstairs to her private room to sleep, then join you both in the master suite?”

  “Of course,” Farleigh answered with a promising look. “We’ll follow shortly.”

  Sebastian nodded and turned toward the door. Pia smiled when she saw Anna’s delicate hands wrap lovingly around Sebastian’s neck. Poor lamb, thought Pia. She really is exhausted.

  After the other two had left, Farleigh moved closer to Pia and the baby. He reached out to touch one gentle finger along Edward’s silky hair. “He is a lovely child. I’m so glad he has the set of your lips.”

  Pia smiled. “You enjoy willfulness, then?”

  “It’s not willfulness exactly. It’s more of a persistent gentleness.” He looked up into her eyes. “I can’t help but feel that none of us would be here if it were not for you, sweet Pia. We’re all selfish and stubborn and willful, and you . . .”

  “Oh, I am also selfish, in the end.”

  “How so? You are always so equable and kind.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “Because this is what I’ve always wanted. All of us together, living as a real family. In my way, I have pushed for my selfish desires as much as anyone. Perhaps more so.”

  Farleigh leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Well, then, perhaps you are better at letting us think it’s our idea, that we are getting our own desire.”

  She blushed. “Perhaps. And if that is the case, perhaps you are having the idea right now that you want to carry this baby up to the nursery and hand him to his nanny and then return to our room to make ravenous love to Sebastian and me.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he touched the turn of her ear, sending a shiver down her neck. “You see, that was exactly what I was thinking. You must have the gift of second sight.”

  “A very selfish second sight,” she added, placing the baby into his arms and standing up to see herself out of the drawing room. Smiling over her shoulder, she gave him a saucy wink as she headed in the direction of the large master bedroom—and bed—they all shared.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Megan Mulry’s Bound to Be a Groom!

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  There were many factors that contributed to the ideation and execution of this book. Writing hot sex for its own sake is fun, of course, but I also wanted to write about a time in history when homosexuality, bisexuality—really all sexuality—was not perceived in the binary context under which we now (I think) suffer. These imaginary characters have no such cultural paradigms to contend with. I believe in a broad spectrum of human attraction—both physical and emotional—and I am grateful this book gave me the opportunity to explore some of the nuanced permutations of that spectrum.

  This morning, I was listening to a BBC Radio 4 podcast about David Hockney’s In the Dull Village, and it summed up very nicely what I was t
rying to accomplish with this book: “[Hockney] felt a responsibility to stand up through his art for his own rights and to join the growing campaign for the rights of others like him. Characteristically, he was determined that his approach would not be heavy-handed. These etchings don’t preach. They smile and they sing.”

  I hope this story smiles and sings for readers.

  Megan Mulry

  November 11, 2013

  Sarah Frantz’s editorial direction was an integral part of this story. I loved working with her at the happy intersection of our interests. The opportunity to discuss welts, Wellesley, and wedlock all in one email does not come along very often. I am also grateful for early reader feedback from Magdalen Braden, Anne Calhoun, Shelley Ann Clark, and Janet Webb. Lastly, I am so honored that Pam Rosenthal took the time to read and comment.

  Contemporary

  A Royal Pain

  If the Shoe Fits

  In Love Again

  R is for Rebel

  Historical

  Bound to Be a Bride

  The Wallflowers

  Megan Mulry writes sexy, stylish, romantic fiction. Her first book, A Royal Pain, was an NPR Best Book of 2012 and USA Today bestseller. Before discovering her passion for romance novels, she worked in magazine publishing and finance. After many years in New York, Boston, London, and Chicago, she now lives with her family in Florida.

  Website: http://meganmulry.com

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