by Heather Boyd
“And she’s supposed to be getting married soon,” Martha said quickly. She glanced down at the bundle in her arms, and awkwardly buttoned her bodice one-handed. “Would you like to hold her, my lady?”
“Thank you. I would love to hold her.” Iris took the babe and settled the child in her arms. Gently she caressed the child’s face and smiled down into her sleepy eyes. “Such a precious girl. I will have to scold your papa. He should have chosen a name long before this.”
A pair of dark eyes fixed onto her face a moment then moved on to follow the light dancing into the room from a fluttering curtain. “Violet. If he will not choose, then your name will be Violet I think.”
Mrs. Hughes sank to a chair. “Her mother’s name was Vivian Rose.”
“Violet Rose. It has a nice ring to it. Like a sweet wine or a perfect day.” She hitched the child in her arms and leaned back in the chair. “I could stare into this sweet face all day.”
“I fear we all have that thought,” Mrs. Hughes murmured with a shake of her head.
Iris glanced at her. “Is the gentleman who answered the door your intended? I remember him from the park that first day we met. He seems very nice.”
The housekeeper nodded. “He agreed to wait on account of the little girl.”
“Ah, that is so good of him. When will you wed?”
“I don’t know. He’s been none too pleased with this situation but I could not leave the little one with things so uncertain. Lord Louth has not approved any candidates for my replacement so far.”
Mrs. Hughes set a cup of tea within reach and then served Martha.
First he cannot name the child, and then not find a replacement housekeeper. She’d not imagined him indecisive before but perhaps this situation was one he’d never considered until now. Iris, however, knew exactly what needed to be done. “I think you might feel comfortable making your plans to marry now if you wish, Mrs. Hughes. I hope to take Violet home soon, so a replacement housekeeper will be unnecessary.”
Mrs. Blake fidgeted. “Am I to go with her?”
“I had not meant to startle you with the change but if you would be willing to come, I would be grateful. I cannot, of course, feed the girl myself. She needs you.”
The wet-nurse licked her lips and then grinned, her eyes lighting up at the news. “I’m not fool enough to say no to a better situation.”
While she sipped her tea, Iris studied the wet-nurse’s manner. A little coarse, but she did make an effort to mimic Mrs. Hughes after a quick glance in that woman’s direction several times. She could make a perfect nursemaid with the proper guidance. A bit of polish to smooth any rough edges and Iris could be content to leave her future children in the woman’s care too without any hesitation.
The child grumbled and Iris lifted her to her shoulder. She patted Violet’s bottom rhythmically. The child pulled her knees upward and cried as the sensation of breaking wind reverberated against Iris’s palm. She glanced at Martha and Mrs. Hughes and pressed her lips together. The other pair laughed softly and she joined in too. “Now I feel myself her mother.”
“She needs to be changed soon,” Mrs. Hughes suggested.
Martha sat forward, hands outstretched. “That’s my job now.”
Iris smiled softly. “Perhaps for today you would allow me the honor. I cannot always be here and I’ll not have another chance for many days to come.”
Having gained her staff’s agreement, under their watchful eye, she moved to the baby’s room and changed her daughter’s garments for the first time with a wide smile plastered to her face.
Unfortunately, as much as she might wish it otherwise, she could not stay all day. She had responsibilities at home. Her father’s declining health needed to be discussed with Martin. He’d wanted to talk to her, but Iris had been at a loss over how to explain his contrary nature.
She wasn’t sure she knew what to do anymore.
She took a long goodbye, kissing little Violet’s cheek gently, and then set off for home with Esme.
Talbot’s boy, a child of no more than a dozen years that she’d noticed too often this week lurking around her new home, was waiting at the corner. He trailed her as she pulled a note from inside her glove and let it flutter from her fingers. She didn’t look back until the front door was closing behind them. The note, and the boy, was long gone by then.
Twenty-Four
Martin tossed his boot aside carelessly, switching his attention from the closed door to his wife’s bedchamber, and back to the mantelpiece clock. He could hear her in there, talking with her maid while she changed out of the clothes she’d worn to dinner and readied for bed. He’d never expected to be so eager to meet his wife each night but then again, he’d never seriously considered himself a married man. He’d discovered that being apart from Iris made him anxious.
As soon as the door between their bedchambers swung open, he was on his feet and across the room. Gods, she was beautiful. Her dark hair spilling across one shoulder, her feet bare under her robe. “You were very quiet tonight at dinner.”
She closed the door behind her firmly, her expression tense and uncertain. “I can’t help but worry for the future. I have a lot more to lose now than I ever had before.”
“Don’t worry about Talbot. I have Meriwether’s assurance that you will be protected from prosecution no matter what he might say. Do you remember the quip you made to Lady Heathcote about being invisible? Well, that is nonsense of course, but the comment inspired her and Meriwether to concoct a rather believable excuse for your involvement, if it’s discovered. As far as anyone knows, Meriwether recruited Lady Heathcote, a woman renowned for her intelligence and ability to uncover any scandal within the ton. She has been collecting any information relevant to the robberies for him and that is how your involvement began, as her confidant and second set of eyes.”
Iris rubbed her brow. “So I’m still a spy.”
“For the right reasons this time.” He set his hands to her tiny shoulders and rubbed through the thin robe she wore. He bent and pressed his lips to her soft cheek. When she sighed with pleasure, he continued to stroke the column of her throat and then kissed her collarbone. He’d not been intimate with her since the wedding, allowing her time to adjust to being his wife and everything else. However, he did want to try again tonight. The release might just do her the world of good and settle her nerves ahead of tomorrow night’s confrontation with Talbot.
They both wanted it over and for Iris to be safe again. Meriwether had assured him the plan to catch Talbot red-handed would work but he would not breathe easy yet.
“Waiting is very hard. I feel like everyone is watching me.” Iris pushed his waistcoat aside, her hands eager as they swept around his chest to embrace him. She brushed her body against his groin and although the action was probably innocent, it utterly inflamed him.
“The only eyes on you tonight are mine,” he promised. He tugged on the tie to her robe and undid the simple knot. His breath caught as the silk gaped, revealing his wife had come to him utterly bare beneath. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with pleasure on their mind.
He shrugged out of his waistcoat and dragged his shirt over his head. Iris swirled the tips of her fingers around his navel and then kissed his chest. When she licked his nipple, Martin groaned then swept her up into his arms and carried her the few steps to his bed.
She curled her arms about his shoulders and wriggled until her legs wrapped about his hips. “Make love to me.”
“I’d intended to.” He cupped her bottom and squeezed. “If you’re agreeable.”
Iris nodded and kissed his neck. When he felt the nip of teeth, he laughed and reached to snuff the candle on the side table. He climbed onto the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and brought Iris onto his lap so she straddled him. There was enough moonlight that he could see her face clearly and she appeared excited by the position. She eased down his body, her lips tracing fire over his skin. He unbuttoned the fall o
f his trousers to give his growing arousal room but didn’t expose himself.
Iris glanced up, a teasing grin on her face as she traced his outline through the garment. “I need you inside me.”
She moved up his body and claimed his lips in a fiery kiss that obliterated any possible denial. He would still be cautious. Telling her so didn’t seem likely, given her ardor, so he stroked her bottom lip with his tongue, gently biting the pink flesh as he held her against him.
She rose to her knees and brushed her nipple across his lips. He took the bud into his mouth and sucked hard, earning a desperate moan as repayment. He pushed her soft silk robe off her shoulders slowly and swept the barrier away.
She shuddered and pushed her breast harder against his face. He widened his fingers on her lower back, urged her quim against him and increased suction of his lips. She gasped softly when he switched breasts, scraping her nails over him. He teased her until she was moaning in a near constant stream.
He loosened his grip and while he continued to worship her breasts, he slid a finger along her opening, finding her damp and hot already. He slowly prepared her to be claimed once more. It did not take long for his insistent touch to provoke her to bear down on his fingers. When she groaned and tipped her head backward, Martin replaced his fingers with the head of his cock and pushed up.
Iris met his gaze, a wild look in her eyes. She rocked against him, pressing down a little at a time so he began to enter her. He cupped her breast and squeezed the tip, even as he held his cock steady. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she gasped as he slipped almost all the way inside. He was a bit surprised by the ease.
“Slowly, love,” he warned, holding back the urge to surge upward.
Heedless of his warning, Iris lifted and lowered much quicker than she should. Her lips parted and gasping. He gripped her hips firmly and slowed her down. Iris brushed his hands aside and set hers to his shoulders, undeterred by his wishes for a careful pace. Her eyes fluttered shut as she rode him, taking him deeper with every descent, her face a picture of concentration and pure joy. She paused only when he was fully seated inside her tight, blistering heat.
She met his gaze as she rotated her hips slowly. A moan ripped from his chest at the realization that his wife delighted in provoking him. She raised her arms over her head, twisted her hair into a coil and did it again. Her flushed face and easy smile hinted she was pleased with herself and knew her brazen display of her body aroused the hell out of him.
He flipped her onto her back and pinned her hands above her head. He surged into her and out again. Her legs tightened around his back as he lost himself in her body. Over and over, he thrust to her moans of unchecked pleasure, eventually releasing her hands so she could hold tight to him. She caressed his face as she peaked, crying out her pleasure loudly. She clutched him close, nails sinking into his back as she trembled. She held him so hard he could not move an inch. What little control he had was lost in the wonder of her prolonged climax. He shook as the wave of intense satisfaction swept through him and he spilled his seed deep inside her body, despite his intentions not to do so again. Not every coupling created a child, but he shouldn’t risk it again.
When she eventually quieted, he rolled to his side, gasping for air. His bare cock poked from the opening of his trousers, large and hard and glistening with the moisture of their passions, but he was too content to move at first.
When he eventually noticed the direction of her gaze had moved to his groin, he stripped off his trousers entirely and flopped onto his back. “That wasn’t slow.”
She met his gaze with a teasing smile. “No? Should we start over and try again?”
He chuckled at her attitude and swept her long dark hair back from her face. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Actually, yes.” She grinned. “I do love how you watch me, and I’m very pleased to discover your concerns that you were too large are unfounded.”
His size was only a small part of his concern. A small woman giving birth to a large man’s child put herself at risk. He shifted to bring Iris into his arms as the idea of losing her pained him. She made no attempt to cover herself and he liked that very much. He traced around her nipple. “You are so beautiful. I love seeing you like this, so very exposed, so very ready for me.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to touch me all day.” She glanced up into his face, frowning. “Didn’t you tell me men think of sex at all hours of the day and night?”
“I did think of you many times today.” He flicked her nipple gently until it grew hard. “I thought of you at breakfast when you passed me the newssheet. I had a fine view down your bodice and my mouth watered to suckle your breast.”
He cupped her breasts with both hands and kneaded them. Her feet moved restlessly on the bed and he smiled at her reaction.
She touched his cock and lightly teased him. “Is that the only time?”
“No.” He pinched both her nipples firmly and rolled them between his fingers, earning a gasp. “We could spend all night discussing my lustful thoughts about you. I’m utterly depraved.”
She rolled onto his chest, settling her body over his own nakedness with a groan. “I would have enjoyed being your mistress you know, but I think as your wife I’ll have far more opportunities to touch you than a scandalous woman like that ever would.”
She wriggled upward and his cock slipped between her thighs. She rose and set her knees on either side of his hips.
The tip of his cock brushed across her bare bottom and he sighed. “Is that so?”
She nodded and with another adjustment, he was at her entrance again. She pressed his cock into her body with a groan. Despite the earlier rush to fuck, she kept the movement gentle and sweet. She rode him at a much slower pace, while he teased her lips with kisses, caressing her body with a possessive touch. He withdrew a little to suck on the tips of her breasts before returning fully to her and groaning against her hair.
Pleasure built much more slowly this time. Iris curled her arms about his neck and held his head to hers. Her breath a soft gasp against his ear. “Thank you for being my tutor,” she whispered. “I could never have felt so free or beautiful with anyone else.”
And no matter then what position he moved her to, she moaned and writhed with pleasure. He was astonished and grateful to feel so wanted. He was behind her when her fingers twined in the comforter and she cried out his name as she climaxed again, shuddering violently.
She collapsed, panting for breath, bottom raised provocatively in the air. He stoked her cheek, marveling at her, and as soon as she calmed he moved again. She twisted to meet his gaze over her shoulder as he climaxed again with a wild shout, opening a dam inside himself that he’d always hidden his desire behind. He couldn’t stop himself from continuing to pump into her long after he’d come. He needed her too damn much to ever be the same controlled man again.
He fucked her despite his softening cock and then withdrew, kissed down her back. He teased the base of her spine with his tongue and then rolled her over. Iris whispered his name as she tried to hold him but he slipped lower to her quim, determined to bring her pleasure. As many times as he could, that night and forever.
Twenty-Five
Iris gripped her fan tightly as yet another member of the ton expressed surprise that an earl would marry so suddenly. Only the problem wasn’t that Martin had married at all, but that he’d married a nobody. Iris did her best to fume silently. So far his closest friends had most easily accepted the match, and she was very grateful for their presence and support tonight.
Her husband’s arm under hers, around her back so often, went a long way toward giving her strength to ignore the subtle insults. He gave her his undivided attention and refused to be drawn away for any private conversation. She didn’t want to face any questions alone tonight.
She scanned the faces in the crowd, looking for one in particular. “I don’t see him.”
“I do. To my left.” M
artin smiled down at her. “Standing near the potted palms with Miss Alice Quartermane. Where the devil has Whitney gotten to?”
Iris turned slowly in that direction, and her gaze locked on Talbot. “She’s dancing with Lord Acton at the moment.”
“Dear God, why?”
“I dared her to,” Iris confessed but her attention remained on Talbot. “And told her you’d buy her a dozen new canvases if she’d end her hostilities tonight.”
“Clever.” He beamed at her. “I’ll have to kiss your feet in thanks for that.”
Talbot bowed over Miss Quartermane’s hand, admiring the enormous gem gracing her wriggling fingers. Acton had been very generous with the gift to her on their engagement. The size of the ring was all anyone could talk about. “Run, Alice,” she whispered.
“Be calm.” Martin’s hand slid over hers and squeezed. “Lady Heathcote is coming this way.”
Iris turned as Esme stopped at her side on a stranger’s arm. The older woman kissed her cheek. “You look radiant, my dear. Marriage agrees with you.”
“Thank you, as do you.” Iris took in Esme’s bold gown—dark-blue silk edged in black lace and smoky quartz gems—and sighed with envy. “Madam du Clair has outdone herself once again.”
“I know. She’s anxious to see you soon.” Esme gestured to the gentleman at her side. “Might I introduce you to a very old friend of mine. Mr. Miles Hammond. He’s recently come up to Town.”
Iris held out her hand to the man. “A pleasure to meet you. Esme has told me absolutely nothing about you.”
“There’s not much to tell.” The gentleman kissed the air over her glove and turned his attention to her husband.
Iris met Esme’s gaze. “I think new gowns should wait.”
Martin touched her elbow. “I’d never come between a lady and her modiste. I’m looking forward to the bill, actually, and the view.”
He squeezed her fingers and then resumed his conversation with Hammond.