by Lydia Dare
Inside the box lay a sheer garment, edged in lace. Prisca pulled it from the box and turned toward the mirror, where she held it in front of her body. The soft silkiness of the lavender garment was in stark contrast to her black dress. He immediately wanted to see the fabric drape her alabaster skin.
“This would be horribly indecent,” she whispered, turning to look at him shyly. She obviously liked it but was concerned about him seeing her in it.
He would see her in less. Every day from now on. “Indecent?” he asked as he slowly approached her. “There’s nothing indecent about seeing my wife’s perfect body.” Taking the peignoir from her, he draped it over a nearby chair. Then he very slowly walked around to stand at her back, where he could untie the laces of her gown. The bombazine crinkled as he unlaced the dress and pulled one shoulder down.
He replaced it with his lips, letting them slide slowly over her skin. He had to hold back a smile when she shivered. Perhaps this would go better than planned.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked.
“You’ve no maid. So, I thought I’d help you undress.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugged before he kissed down the side of her neck.
Prisca willingly leaned her head to the other side as he tugged her gown from the opposite shoulder. She smelled of lilacs, and the scent of her grew stronger and stronger as her body warmed beneath his touch.
When he’d freed both of her arms, she still clutched the scratchy black dress to her breasts, refusing to let it fall. He came to stand before her and tugged it gently. She held tightly to the fabric. She even shook her head in denial. There was still work to be done.
Will’s fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck, and he tilted her head so he could take her mouth as he pleased. The first touch of his lips was gentle. But then she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed back against him. All thought of gentleness left his mind. He devoured her with a single-minded purpose—to pleasure her. When he was finally convinced that his mouth held all her attention, he lifted her arms to bring them up around his neck.
The dress made a crinkling sound as it fell. She didn’t notice. He must have been doing something right. But this was not the time to gloat.
Without lifting his mouth, he took a tentative step toward the bed. She stepped with him. He took another. And another, until she could step no farther. Then he picked her up gently and laid her down.
Will climbed over her, now kissing across her collarbone as she held tightly to his arms. Her beautiful violet eyes stayed closed, her mouth hung slightly open.
She opened her eyes only for a moment when she heard the delicate fabric of her chemise tear.
“I’ll buy you another,” he mouthed against her skin, where he kissed the plump skin of her breast. She didn’t protest. But just ran her fingers into his hair, holding him directly over her breast.
“What do you want, Priss?” he asked. He very lazily traced a finger around her nipple but refused to touch it.
She tugged his head and arched her back, bringing her quivering flesh within a breath of his lips. He wanted to tease her, to make her ask him. But the beat of her heart flooded the room and the scent of her desire nearly toppled him to the floor.
He took her nipple into his mouth, tonguing the turgid peak until she sighed with pleasure. He cupped her breasts, which would have overflowed a normal man’s hands but fit his just perfectly. As his mouth devoured her flesh, the fingers of his other hand rolled the opposite peak between his fingers, tugging gently in time with his tongue.
Her legs opened finally, and he wanted nothing more than to surge between them and find her heat, making them one. But this was about more than pleasure. It was about mastery. In one thing, he could master her. If that one place was the bedroom, he’d take it.
He sat up until he rested on his knees between her parted legs, the sight of her damp curls and the scent of her nearly more than he could stand. Her drawers went the same way as her chemise, but she simply smiled when he tore them, too far gone with desire to care.
He placed a delicate kiss above her navel and then kissed his way down to the warmest, most tender part of her. His thumbs held her open as he licked across her heat. Her hand threaded into his hair and tugged. But not to pull him away from her. To push him to where she ached for him.
He devoured her flesh with soft nibbles, intrusive thrusts of his tongue, and then, when she was close to going wild with pleasure, he slid one finger into her. She arched against his tiny thrust.
“Will!” she called loudly.
He merely purred against her skin and then dragged her aching flesh into his mouth with one final suck. And that’s when she erupted. Her wetness clung to his finger, her body arching for him. He slowly and masterfully showed her all the pleasure she could possibly desire in that moment. When she stilled and her heart began to slow, he moved up her body.
But the sensation he experienced when he looked into her passion-filled gaze was more than he could stand. She looked as though she adored him, all of her protective walls having fallen with her pleasure. Guilt ate at his soul. It was time to be honest with her.
Will rolled to his back, not touching her. Just lying beside her as she came down from her high. She rolled toward him, and he moved away from her. He was still fully clothed, while she was naked. “I need to tell you something,” he said slowly as he rolled over to face her.
“What is it, Will?” she asked softly, her hand raising to gently brush his hair from his forehead. He had to do it now. She would find out as soon as he got inside her. So, he’d better inform her before that happened.
Will groaned. “You still don’t remember the night in the cottage?”
Prisca sat up and rolled the edge of the counterpane over to cover her nakedness. He wanted more than anything to peel it back off her. “I remember some of it,” she said as her eyebrows drew together.
“I wasn’t completely truthful,” he said in one explosive breath.
She scooted even farther back from him. “About?”
“About taking your innocence,” he finally admitted.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she shook her head.
“What we just did a moment ago?” he prompted. She nodded. “We did that at the cottage.”
A rosy blush stained her cheeks. “I do remember that.”
“But nothing else.” He released a sigh. His stomach clenched, and his mind shouted for him to stop, not to say another word; but his heart ached to tell her the truth.
She shook her head.
“Priss, that’s all you remember because it’s all that happened that night. You fell asleep on my chest.” “We didn’t…”
“No,” he said to stop her.
Her face paled. “But you let them all think…” she began, looking everywhere but at him. “You told Papa…”
“I’m sorry, Priss.”
“You let them all think I’d willingly given myself to you.”
He looked at her, his heart breaking at the look on her face.
“You let them think I’d lost my innocence, the very thing women hold most dear.”
He reached for her, but she pulled back. If she went any farther, she’d fall right off the bed.
“I’d like to be alone for a moment,” she finally whispered, staring at the ceiling above them.
“Priss,” he groaned. If he could just make her understand…
“Only a moment, Will. I need to think a bit. Why don’t you go and find that brandy?”
Perhaps brandy would help.
“I’ll be right back,” he sighed as he left the room.
He’d lied. The blackguard had lied. He’d allowed her family to think the worst of her. How could he?
Without giving herself time to think twice, Prisca slid from the bed, walked slowly to the bedroom door, and pushed it closed with a soft click. He’d be back soon. Too soon. Her gaze shot around the room. She spotted the chair draped wit
h her peignoir set and considered moving it against the door to keep him out. That wouldn’t work. He’d pulled her door off its hinges at Langley Downs. There was nothing to keep him from doing the same thing here. Then he’d be furious.
The purple gown across the room called to her. It probably wasn’t the best thing to wear, given her circumstances, but her chemise was torn in two and she couldn’t find her bombazine anywhere. The blackguard must have absconded with it when he went to retrieve the brandy.
She studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her breasts were a little too large to be fashionable, her hips a bit too wide. The side of her breast had been abraded by Will’s beard stubble. And there was a small mark on her chest where he’d suckled her.
She didn’t have many choices. Quickly, she tugged the peignoir from the back of the chair and lifted the silky nightgown over her head. She let it drop, where it fell like the gentlest touch she’d ever received. She turned to see the full effect in the mirror and frowned when she saw that the slit up the side went all the way up to her hip. It didn’t cover much. Of course, he’d seen all of her and tasted nearly as much.
She jumped when she heard someone ascend the steps down the corridor.
Will stood outside the door and took a deep breath, trying to control the beat of his heart. What if she never looked at him the same way again? What if she never forgave him?
After he’d made his way to the kitchen, he’d found the light repast the footman had left. He held the plate with cheese and fruit in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other.
He stood still and counted to twenty. He wondered if she’d still be draped across the bed naked. He knocked, then called out softly, “Prisca?”
“Yes?” Her voice was quiet and shaky.
“May I come in?”
“Can I say no?” she answered, her voice getting louder with each reply.
He cracked the door and poked his head into the room. He began to say, ‘You absolutely may not say no,’ but before he could get the words from his mouth, his breath left him in one big whoosh. He stepped the rest of the way into the room and nearly dropped the plate and bottle to the floor. “Now that I’ve seen you in that, there’s no possible way you can tell me no,” he said, quickly abandoning his refreshment and crossing the room in three strides.
“Do you like it?” she asked when he gazed down at her, her voice hesitant and uncertain. She patted her flat stomach and ran her hands slowly over the material.
“A better question would be, do you like it?” he said, as he stood back and just looked at her. A vision Venus would be jealous of.
Her black-as-night hair hung freely over her shoulders, the ends curling playfully around her breasts. He let his gaze linger there. She wore the wrapper that had come with the peignoir set, but the entire ensemble fit her like a silky second, lavender skin. He could see every bump and every dip of her beautiful body.
“Oh, I love it,” she breathed, the hint of a smile playing around her mouth. But there was something wrong with it. He braced himself. “Thank you.”
She sat down in a chair and crossed her ankles. “So, what happens now?” she asked.
Will scratched his head. He’d never had a woman ask that before. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do next. Had she forgiven him? He took the chair across from her and placed the platter of food between them. “Hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head, which made her hair tickle at her breasts again. “No. Did you say you have brandy?” she asked, pinkening when his gaze lingered around her cleavage. She brought the sides of her wrapper together to cover herself.
“I do.” He nodded.
She giggled when he didn’t move. “May I have some?”
“Oh, of course,” he said, jumping up in one lithe move. He splashed some of the amber liquid into a glass and held it out to her.
“Are you all right, Will?” she purred at him.
“I will be, as soon as I get you beneath me,” he growled.
Prisca tapped her chin, her eyebrows drawing together while a smile that wasn’t quite sincere played across her lips. “But since you like games so much, William…” she began as she stood up slowly and sensually, and then smoothly walked across the room. She flipped the counterpane from the top of the bed, revealing a chess set that lay in the middle. “Since you like games, I thought we’d play.”
“Excuse me?” he choked, all hope of getting inside her escaping him in one big sigh.
“Chess, William. Let’s play.”
He didn’t know what to say and could only gape at her. Did she intend to punish him then? “You don’t like chess,” Will finally growled.
“I will tonight,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. “Besides, it’s about as close as you’ll get to having me in bed with you any time soon.” She sat down on one side of the chess board, the slit at her thigh riding high.
Will’s mouth watered.
“Shall I go first, Will?”
She couldn’t be serious. She wouldn’t do that to him. “Do you honestly intend to deny me my husbandly rights?”
“My, you are quick in understanding the situation.” She moved her pawn forward one spot. “Your move.”
Will gaped at her. What could he possibly say? He pulled the top off the brandy bottle and lifted it to his lips.
Twenty-One
THE MORNING SUNLIGHT POURED INTO THE BEDROOM, and Will groaned as he squinted his eyes and threw an arm over his face. Blasted light! Who would pull back the drapes? “Priss,” he grumbled.
But he couldn’t hear a sound in the room. No breathing other than his own. Will’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright in bed and then realized he was all alone in the little guest room of the dower house, still wearing his clothes from the day before.
Prisca had won the rights to the master’s room at the end of their chess game the previous night. The memory of that made his blood boil. There was no way he should have lost the match, except that it was too difficult to concentrate on game play. Whenever he’d clear his head long enough to focus on the board, she’d lean forward and he could see straight down that damned ensemble he’d been foolish enough to give her.
Little tease.
He’d let her have her fun last night, but he’d endured all that he intended. Prisca was his wife, and that’s all there was to it.
Will rose from the bed but then sat back down when the room began to spin. Damn brandy. “Prisca!” he called. But of course, she didn’t come running to his aid. After a moment, he stood again and slowly made his way to the corridor. Finally having his bearings, he stalked toward the master chamber. “Prissy,” he began as he threw open the door, “I think we need to have an understanding…”
But she wasn’t there. It didn’t appear that the bed had even been slept in. Will’s breath caught in his throat. Had she left him in the dead of night? Stubborn chit!
Will sniffed the air and could smell lilacs all around him. She hadn’t been gone for long. Perhaps she’d simply gone downstairs. “Prisca Westfield! Where are you?”
Nothing. Not a goddamned sound in the whole house!
The air whooshed from his lungs. She wouldn’t up and leave him like that, would she? Will closed his eyes and concentrated on his hearing. The wind blew outside, and he could hear something small scamper in the woods nearby, but nothing inside the house.
He should have known better. He shouldn’t have told her the truth. She said she wasn’t going to make this easy on him, but he hadn’t thought she’d run away.
Where would she go? Back to Langley Downs? And do what? Tell her father and the others about his duplicity? He shook his head at his own foolishness. He’d have to go after her. She was his wife. Just as he was about to stalk out, he spotted it. A small piece of foolscap folded up, lying in the chair beside the bed.
Will was scrawled across the top in her delicate hand. He snatched the note and opened it.
Will,
I
have gone to Westfield Hall.
Prisca
Gone to the manor house? Without him? He could just imagine what sort of trouble she was getting into up there all alone. Simon would have his head.
Of course, he was relieved that she hadn’t taken off in the dead of night. But he couldn’t help being annoyed that she was gone. Was it too much to ask for his bride not to trek out on her own the morning after their vows? Was it too much to ask for her to give him a chance to make things right between them?
He was a fool. Did he think she’d suddenly become malleable just because she’d married him? She’d proved just the opposite the previous night, hadn’t she?
Well, no more. He’d had enough. Blood pounding in his veins, Will started off for Westfield Hall, ignoring the biting wind whipping at his face. When he found his wife, they’d have quite the discussion about her abandonment and then…
Will stopped in his tracks. He would do no such thing. She already held more power over him than was wise. If she knew how besotted he was, she’d lord it over him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed his hike to the manor house.
Billings met him at the door with a smile. “My lord, I believe your wife is in the breakfast room with the other ladies.”
“Perfect,” Will grumbled. Everyone knew of her desertion, then. He’d never hear the end of it from his brothers. He doubted either of their brides left them lying alone in their beds the morning after their weddings. Of course, their wives had also shared their beds the night their vows were spoken. He’d not been nearly as fortunate.
After handing his coat to Billings, Will started toward the breakfast room.
“William,” Major Forster called from the green parlor.
Will turned on his heel and poked his head in the room. “Morning, sir.”
The old officer smiled and started toward him. “Your lovely bride is visiting with your mother, if you’re looking for her.”