***
When Miranda and her aunt were walking arm and arm down the hall in the direction of the family drawing room for afternoon tea, and the eerie sound of Baker’s voice traveled to her ears, she thought she would be sick.
Never had she believed hearing his voice again would tumble her right back to that night. His deep timber traveled in her ear throughout her entire body and out the other ear leaving a wake of destruction behind. Thank God Auntie grabbed her when she had or she would’ve hit the floor hard.
She never thought she’d hear him again. Hear the voice that snuck into her mind while she slept at night and terrorized her to the point of waking her up and then keeping her awake, afraid to fall back to sleep. Afraid to sleep because the voice would find her again.
When she’d caught sight of him between the open cracks of the door and heard him refer to her as a whore, she’d decided at that exact moment to not let him win. What he did to her was traumatic and evil, but she was alive. She could and would move on. She’d always possessed inner strength even if she didn’t rely on it all the time.
For the past two months, she’d forgotten about her inner strength, but not anymore.
She lived.
She breathed.
She loved.
Her focus from this day forward was her husband and their marriage. Not the person who tried to destroy her. He didn’t deserve even a moment’s thought in her mind. Then she looked at her aunt and realized how devastated she was at the turn of events.
Miranda prayed every night for God to ease Violet’s burden. Perhaps today was the answer to her prayers. No more wondering where the ne’er-do-well was. Had he taken the ship to America? Or was he strolling the streets of London?
They could breathe easy now knowing he would be on the next ship to New South Wales. Miranda should feel ashamed listening through the door after Spencer asked her and Auntie to leave, but, really, how could she walk away? She had needed to know what was happening even if she knew her husband would make things right. Which he did.
She still worried about Violet even though her aunt assured her she was fine. Perhaps it was time to put the past in the past and enjoy the present and look forward to the future. A future with the love of her life.
Just as she poured her second cup of tea the love of her life walked in the room commanding her attention. Not literally. Physically she was drawn to him. And it wasn’t just his good looks, which he had in abundance, but his innate kindness and generous nature. She found herself smiling at him, hoping to relax him as he looked tense and stiff.
“Is he gone?”
“Yes. Smythe took him away. Neither of you will ever have to set eyes on the man again. He is as good as gone.”
“Thank you,” Violet said as she stood. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’ll rest before tonight’s festivities.”
“By all means.” Spencer bowed. Once Auntie left the room, he shut the door and turned to her, looking concerned. “I am so sorry you had to see him again.” Then he lessened the distance between them and pulled her into his strong arms.
“I’m not. It made me realize how fortunate I am to be alive. I have a second chance at life, and I plan on enjoying it as best I can.”
“Music to my ears.” Her eyes were riveted to his as the green took over the blue and darkened with lust and the gold flecks became more pronounced and he lowered his head and took her lips in a demanding kiss. He kissed her as though he would die if he didn’t. As if he would wither and perish from thirst. They were married for a little more than a senight now, but she could count the number of times he kissed her like this on one hand. It was usually a soft, gentle meeting of lips. Not this tongue and teeth wet kiss that buckled her knees and had her hips pushing into him, seeking something beyond her grasp.
“Spencer.” She broke away, leaned her head against his chest and breathed deeply until her lungs and heart resembled normal behavior.
“What my dear?”
“That nearly undid me.”
He chuckled and the sound caused her skin to tingle. “I’m so very glad to hear it. Shall we rest before we need to dress for tonight’s masquerade ball at my cousin’s house? Now those are words I never thought I’d ever say before Amelia came into his life.”
“Yes,” she answered as her heart changed direction and began speeding up once more.
He took her hand in his warm, large one, and they walked side by side in companionable silence. Once inside their rooms, he pulled her into his arms again and looked deep into her soul, causing her to shiver.
“Whatever you want. I am yours to command. We will only do what makes you feel safe and good.” His forehead came down to hers and rested there. “I’m nervous.”
“You are nervous?”
“Yes. I don’t ever want to cause you to worry. I love you too much. Witnessing your nightmares nearly kills me. Never, ever, do I want to see such fear on your face. You deserve everything that is good and kind and loving.”
Her fingers curled around his waistcoat lapels and tugged his mouth down to hers. This time he waited for her to take the lead. She hesitated for only a moment then she swept her tongue inside his mouth and explored the way he did when he kissed her. The sliding of her tongue across his teeth and the moans vibrating in his throat had her rising on her tip-toes and devouring him.
“Easy darling,” he said with a chuckle. “We are in no hurry.” His actions contradicted his words as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, removed it, and tugged his shirt over his head leaving him naked from the waist up. Casually, he walked toward the bed, sat down and proceeded to pull off his boots.
Chapter Thirteen
Miranda could not help herself from whimpering when Spencer’s hands went to the front placket of his pants. When his fingers stilled, she raised her eyes to his face and he grinned at her while his eyes twinkled with amusement. The devil.
“I believe you are overdressed.” He rose, walked toward her, and she held her breath as his hands gently turned her around and he began the tedious task of unbuttoning her day dress. When her maid dressed and undressed her it seemed to be such a mundane part of her day. When Spencer unbuttoned each button, followed by his lips, kissing the exposed skin, she shivered and her head lolled back in utter bliss.
Time stood still. Good time. She was so lost in her blossoming arousal and enjoying her husband’s hands and mouth on her, she barely realized when her clothing pooled around her feet and she was totally naked with his warm arms circling her waist.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He released her and tugged her hand with his. “Come. I hear the bed calling our names.”
Miranda was convinced she glided across the room because she didn’t feel her feet touching the ground.
Right before her wide eyes, Spencer dropped his breeches to reveal his, large, hard, and pulsing manhood. For one moment in time she panicked at the sight of it, then she remembered he loved her and would never intentionally hurt her. He would die before he accomplished that.
As though he understood her silent concerns, he murmured, “Easy love. It’s me. I will love and cherish you and no more.”
“I know.” Finding her courage she pulled down the coverlet and climbed on the bed, turned on her side, and immediately felt the dipping of the mattress as he joined her.
He reached out and skimmed his fingers up her arm, across her chest, and down the other side only to repeat the movement again. Each time the pads of his fingers touched her sensitized skin she quivered, closed her eyes, and sighed. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear. Comprehending the words he whispered didn’t matter. What mattered was his tone. He spoke and touched her as if he cherished her.
When his warm lips replaced his fingers she moaned and silently hoped he never stopped touching and kissing her. Time became irrelevant as the room, the world and the universe collided and became one with them.
Her mind centered wholly on the touch and sounds coming f
rom Spencer. He breathed heavily and moaned deeply. She sucked in her breath as his hand traveled down between her breasts, over the small swell of her stomach until it landed there. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his thumb in circles and her body answered. Her hips rose off the bed. When he removed his hand briefly she protested. “Spencer.”
“I know darling. I know.”
Then she gasped and her hips bucked up as his hot tongue licked her and his hands spread her thighs wide. His mouth sucked on her core and she didn’t know what to do. Where to put her hands as the world exploded around her and she heard someone screaming and when Spencer climbed up her body and covered her mouth with his, the screams vanished and she realized they had come from her.
She should be mortified, but she didn’t care. As his knee rose and he nudged her legs apart, positioning him over her, she waited for panic to come but it didn’t. She wanted this. Wanted to know what it felt like to be loved completely by the man she cherished.
He entered her slowly, no doubt waiting for her to adjust. When it didn’t happen quickly enough, she placed her hands on his hips, pulling him down until he was buried to the hilt inside her and all she felt was full. No pain, no anxiety. Comfortably full.
“Good?” Spencer asked looking at her with a worried expression. “Not moving is torturing me.”
“Move. Please, move.”
And move he did. Slowly at first then faster and harder and louder and louder they became until her insides tightened around him and she saws stars twinkling around the room. Spencer pushed one last time hard, froze, threw his head back and howled.
He collapsed on top of her, and she kept her arms and legs wrapped around his body, never wanting to let go. If she died tomorrow she would have no regrets.
Before she could stop herself she started to giggle. “I’m sorry. I was just remembering something my aunt told me her mother told her on the night before her wedding. How it was the wife’s duty to close her eyes and think happy thoughts while her husband rutted between her legs. Who do you suppose made up such a ridiculous thing?”
“Some maiden who never married and experienced lovemaking. Or someone who married an elderly gentleman with no teeth, foul breath, and sagging skin.”
She giggled once again. “What a horrible vision. I’ll take my handsome, young, full rows of teeth and tight skin, husband any day.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Oh,” she moaned as his hands began exploring, followed by his mouth, and she clutched his upper arms ready for the wild ride to commence.
***
Spencer could hardly believe the sight of his wife, lying naked, curled up against his side sleeping soundly after making love twice. He carefully, not wanting to wake her, reached down and pulled up the coverlet to keep them warm. If his sweaty body was chilled, she must be as well.
While he held the most precious person close to his heart, he relived the past hour and knew he had a stupid grin on his face. When he suggested they go up to their chamber he never really expected to consummate their marriage. Didn’t believe Miranda was ready yet. Not after what transpired only hours ago.
Closing his eyes now, he swore he could still taste her sweetness on his tongue. The first time he sank his cock into her tight, warm channel he almost came instantly. It took all his self-control not to lose his seed. It was about her pleasure, not his. Only after she took hers, would he allow himself the privilege of his own release.
Nothing aroused him more than when she screamed to the point he had to kiss her to muffle her cries. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to come and enjoy his own release in his wife’s delectable body. A body made for him. He fit perfectly inside her as he’d known he would.
During the second time, her body responded with even greater passion. He’d always known, when they first met all those years ago, that she was a sensual person. All he had to do was look into her eyes and the curiosity and lust that had been there at seventeen was still there at twenty-nine. Even more so. She was a woman now and had a woman’s desires and needs.
Before he joined her in sleep, he wondered if they would make the masquerade ball at Bridgeton Manor later that evening.
***
“Miranda,” Aunt Violet’s voice came from the other side of the closed bed chamber door. “May I come in? We must leave for the masquerade ball in less than an hour, and I need your opinion on which mask to wear with my gown.”
Both Miranda and Spencer sat up and realized they had fallen asleep.
“Please give me a moment and I will come to your room.” Miranda turned to Spencer. “Go to your room and dress for tonight. I need to wash up and see to Auntie.”
Spencer gave her a quick kiss on both cheeks and left through the adjoining door.
Miranda hurried into a dressing robe and walked briskly to her aunt’s temporary chamber. Miranda would miss her terribly when she moved back into the townhouse on the outskirts of Mayfair. Once inside the room, she halted when she saw how beautiful and young Violet looked. “I love your interpretation of a Cyprian. I should be shocked, but somehow you pull it off without being overly exposed.”
“Thank you, my dear. Although I do wonder how you know about Cyprian’s and what they dress like.” She held up two elaborate masks. “Which one do you think suits me best?”
“Try on the lavender, cream, and gold one. The colors bring out the cream and gold of your gown.”
Violet put the mask on and Miranda clapped. “You look as young as a debutante.”
“God, I hope not. I don’t want to fend off young, handsome gentlemen all night long. But I would not mind finding a man close to my age to have an affair with.”
Miranda inhaled and felt her cheeks heat.
“Don’t look so shocked. I am but thirty-nine. I still have some good years left in me. I can never marry again, but I do like a man’s attentions now and then.”
“You are right. I should not be shocked. You are still young enough to...well...never mind. I’ve no doubt you will have all the eligible men close to your age vying for your attentions this evening.”
Her aunt fluttered around the room, her cream silk gown flowing sensually around her, and Miranda only hoped her own costume looked half as good.
“Go now and dress. We don’t want to arrive too fashionably late.”
With Claudia’s help, Miranda dressed as a gypsy. She and Spencer agreed to go as a gypsy husband and wife. When her maid put the finishing touches to her hair and make-up, Miranda stood in front of the cheval mirror and gawked at her reflection staring back at her.
She could not possibly be that person. Someone else stood there. Someone with strawberry-blonde hair hanging wavy and loose to her waist. The only adornment in her hair were red roses that matched her bright red full skirt. A white peasant blouse was tucked into the skirt and was accented with a wide belt in red, purple, and white. Her face was overly made up with red rouge and red lip color. Dark coal lines accented her eyes, making her look exotic.
No one would ever recognize her dressed like this, and she hadn’t even put on her red sequined mask.
Before she had a chance to step away from the mirror, Spencer swept through the adjourning room and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Miranda?”
“Spencer?”
She barely found her voice to answer him. Never had she seen him look so handsome. Not in his formal clothes, nor dressed in his tight fitting riding clothes. The man before her looked dangerous and sexy and caused her heart to flutter and her body to tingle and heat up.
“Now I see why women find gypsy men so alluring.” He was dressed in black tight breeches, polished black hessians, and a red blousy shirt with wide sleeves that tapered at the wrist and was scandalously open at the neck. The wide belt at his waist matched hers. His dark hair was slicked back off his forehead, except for one wayward curl. Her fingers itched to trace the stray lock.
“Miranda.” Spencer’s voice snapped her out of her
thoughts. “Shall we leave or are you going to stare at me all night. Because if you keep at it.” He grinned at her and his eyes narrowed sensually. “I won’t be able to leave anytime soon.” His hand gestured between his muscular thighs.
“Oh.” She wondered if the rouge hid her blush. “I’m sorry.”
The sound of her husband’s laughter made her melt. “Never be sorry to look at me. I love when you do. And may I say, without offending you, that you look good enough to eat. I want nothing more than to find out what you have hidden beneath your skirts. Perhaps we should send our regrets to William and Amelia.”
Now Miranda laughed. “Not a chance. I’ve never been to a masquerade ball and cannot wait to see all the costumes. Besides, I want to show off my handsome gypsy husband and make all the ladies jealous.”
He held out his arm and with a wicked grin said, “Shall we, then?”
She wrapped her arm through his. “We shall.”
Violet waited for them in the foyer and smiled when they came into view.
“Between the three of us we are sure to get the tongues of the ton wagging this evening. But then again, isn’t the reason one attends a masquerade is so they can become someone else entirely. Even if that someone else is considered lower class and scandalous.”
“Most definitely,” Spencer agreed as he escorted both ladies to the carriage and before they knew it they arrived in the carriage queue at Bridgeton Manor.
Even though it was dark, Miranda pulled the curtain aside and peered out, soaking in the sights of all the colorful costumes people wore as they ascended the stairs. Before she knew it, she was alighting the brick staircase, Spencer standing between her and her aunt.
She couldn’t help but wonder if there would be a regular receiving line where the butler announced their names. Her insides quivered. She didn’t want people to know who she was until the midnight mask unveiling. She soon had her answer when they greeted their host and hostess without introductions. Miranda curtsied. “Earl, Countess, thank you for inviting us this evening.” They were dressed as a king and queen. Which ones she did not know.
Spencer meets his Lady Love Page 13