Bound with Honor

by Megan Mulry

  The blood roared in her ears. She had spent so many hours and days consumed with visions of what she’d imagined would be one of the most difficult conversations of her life, and here was Archie showering her with generosity and love beyond anything she could have conjured. “Truly . . . are you certain?”

  “Of course, I am,” he answered without hesitation. “I love everything about you. I love your creativity and your boldness. I love your loyalty to your dear friend. You scare me too, with your spirit and your . . .” He traced the line of her neck, and she shivered beneath his touch. He was somehow gentle and provoking all at once, tugging at the edge of her shift and exposing her breast to the cool air. “Your exquisite beauty,” he whispered reverently before dipping his mouth to the tip of one breast.

  She leaned down and kissed his forehead while he made love to her tender skin, and she felt the circuit of adoration and desire whip between them, coiling them tighter together. “I love you, Archie. I will marry you.”

  He dropped to his knees and kissed his way down her stomach, mumbling endearments and love-filled fragments. “You will not regret it . . . I will make you the happiest woman in England . . . in the world . . .” When his mouth dipped between her legs, and she held fast to his hair lest her knees buckle, she believed him with every cell in her body.

  The next few weeks were a blissful mix of productivity and passion. Rather than the autumnal changes reminding Selina of loss of life or decay, she saw every bright-orange leaf and frantically busy squirrel as a dramatic last gasp of celebration. Vanessa and Nora were thrilled with their marriage news and seemed especially happy to hear that Beatrix would be returning to Camburton when she was not traveling for her performance schedule. Their eyes shone when Selina explained the details of their future arrangements.

  “So you are the next Marchioness of Camburton.” Vanessa beamed. Then she laughed and turned to Nora. “I shall be a dowager marchioness. Shall we move into the dower house, my dear?”

  “No!” Selina cried.

  Nora laughed across the breakfast table. “Why ever not? Don’t you want to be mistress of your own home?”

  Archie smiled at Selina and took another sip of his coffee. When she remained quiet, he said, “Selina fears she will disappoint you if she confesses the truth, but I told her I suspect quite the opposite. Tell them, Selina.”

  She and Archie had spoken at length about her role as the new marchioness. In short, she wanted nothing to do with it. Other than being married to Archie, that is.

  “Vanessa,” she began respectfully, “I think you run the castle perfectly. Archie has his work in the lab and I have my writing, and I think I would be a terrible housemistress. Details often escape me. I go for days where I forget to do anything but trim the nibs of my pen!” They all laughed and she continued, “Would you think very ill of me if I asked you to stay living in the castle and running it as you always have? Would I be shirking?”

  Nora smiled at Archie, then looked down at her lap.

  “Surely you must have opinions about redecorating the yellow drawing room . . .” Vanessa tried.

  Selina shook her head slowly. “No. I confess I do not.”

  “Or the rotation of the winter menus . . .” Vanessa suggested.

  She smiled and shook her head again. “I can try to develop an opinion, if you wish?”

  “You’ve no opinion on the type of slate we should use to repair the roof on the south wing?” Vanessa was beginning to smile as well.

  “I have complete faith in the slate you choose.” Selina smiled through her words.

  Archie took another sip of coffee and looked from Nora to Selina, then to his mother. “She is the ideal daughter-in-law, is she not, Mother? She has no interfering relatives and she will defer to you in everything.” He turned to Selina, and his eyes darkened. “And she loves me.”

  She blushed from the tingling roots of her scalp to the tips of her toes. “Archie,” she whispered hotly.

  “Well, if for no other reason than that,” Vanessa declared, “yes, I do believe Selina is quite certainly the perfect daughter-in-law for me and the perfect wife for you, my dear.”

  Later that day, Selina wrote to Beatrix with her wonderful news. She received a letter back a few weeks later of congratulations and shared joy. Bea praised her for saying what she wanted, for grasping after her own pleasure and for securing Bea’s happiness as well. She signed her letter with a promise that she would return by the beginning of December and she would show Selina then all the ways she had missed her, all the ways she loved her.

  Christopher had remained for a few days, but he had never participated again in their lovemaking. She decided not to press Archie on the subject, nor did she feel the need to discuss her relationship with Beatrix with him at any greater length. He was—miraculously—fine with her ongoing intimacy with Beatrix, and she didn’t see the need to dwell on it. In fact, there was little time to dwell on anything but Archie: he was spectacular—an attentive, eager lover; a charming companion; a blessing in her life. In short, Archie had blossomed.

  They posted banns nearby, in the small town of Beeley, and had a quiet wedding ceremony in the family chapel three weeks later. Apparently Vanessa had satisfied all of her societal and maternal urges for an enormous tonish wedding when Georgiana had married Trevor in London.

  Selina and Archie fell into an easy, intimate routine. He rode around the estate every morning, then they met up and worked on each of their projects for about six hours in the middle of the day. She occasionally still used her cottage as an office of sorts, but more often she enjoyed being in his laboratory, at a large table Archie had cleared for her particular use. He’d arranged it so it faced out a window toward the formal gardens and the deer park beyond, and he placed a small vase of fresh flowers on it every morning.

  They didn’t speak very often during those industrious hours each day, but the nearness of Archie, the quiet comfort of his presence or a passing smile, managed to work him deep into her soul. In the afternoons they would tromp out into the woods or go riding. At night, they ate dinner in the small family dining room with Nora and Vanessa.

  And later at night, dear lord, the man was insatiable. He rarely touched her during the day; by the time they reached the marquess’s suite after supper, they were ravenous for each other. He’d been adorably tentative at first, asking permission to touch her in certain ways, afraid of behaving in some ungentlemanlike manner of his imagining. After many days of delectable assurances, she’d finally convinced him that she was quite capable of saying no if she wished, as was he. Since then, they’d simply devoured each other.

  Some nights he was patient and methodical, touching her slowly, watching her swollen cunny with rapt attention as he licked or stroked it. Other times he was impatient and rough and clumsy and beautiful in his desperation. They never fell into a routine or any specific roles of leader or follower when they were in bed. Selina had spanked him once, in jest, and quickly realized how much it pleased her to do so. Archie tied her up one time, with all of his spectacular nautical knots, and they both discovered the joy of that as well. And in the pursuit of understanding their own unique proclivities, they nearly always forged an even deeper trust in each other.

  She adored being tied up: the stiff confines of the rope made her breasts and pussy feel all the more tender and sensitive, desperate for his inquisitive touches and admiration. God, the look in his eyes at those moments, as if he had discovered the cure to every disease, righted every wrong, just by loving her and giving her pleasure.

  He also adored being taken in hand: when she spanked him that first time, a playful swat really, she’d seen the flare of dark lust in his dilated eyes.

  “You like that, do you?”

  “No . . .” He always said the word “no” in that hesitating, insecure way—as if looking for her guidance and approval to lead him away from the no of it—and then his head would nod in silent encouragement, begging her to continue
with whatever filthy delight she was set upon. That tiny uncertain no had become a powerful trigger for her own lust. She spanked him hard after that initial no, and kept on spanking him that time until he was weeping and gasping with pleasure and she was so wet from the joy of it that when she finally turned him on his back and straddled his steely cock, she exploded around him before she had finished one full thrust.

  By the beginning of December, Archie was convinced his life was nigh on perfect. Selina was finished with the first draft of her novel, and Nora and Vanessa and Archie begged her to read it aloud in the evenings after supper. The four of them would retire to his study and sit together in front of the fire. At first Selina had been shy, both of reading her words in front of people, and from the way he sat on the floor at her feet. He adored her. Shamelessly.

  When she’d pointed it out on their walk earlier that day, he had laughed so hard he’d almost choked. “I’m too adoring of my own lady wife?” he’d asked with joyful disbelief. They’d been walking briskly through the forest and both of them had flushed cheeks and pounding hearts from the exercise.

  “You are wonderful. You know I think you’re wonderful. But you’re so, oh, I don’t know!” Selina had thrown up her hands but kept up her rapid pace. “You’re so attentive. It makes me feel examined or something.”

  “Examined? Of course I’m examining you. Everything about you fascinates me. I’m a scientist. You know that. You are quite possibly the most exciting experiment I’ve ever conducted.”

  She’d pulled a branch out of the way, held it aside for him, and then they’d both carried on walking. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so avid!”

  They’d both been laughing by that point, and he hadn’t been able to resist reaching for her waist and pulling her back to him, his large body enveloping hers.

  “Archie!” He’d nearly knocked the wind out of her, then she’d swiveled in his arms and faced him as he squeezed her close.

  “I love you, Lady Camburton.” He adored calling her by her new name—his name. He’d kissed her then, a peck really, and then he’d seen how even that small contact enflamed her and he’d kissed her more deeply. She’d responded like a struck match—like she always responded to him now—with immediacy and fire.

  That was why they rarely touched each other during the day; there were always immediate consequences. Seconds later he’d had her up against a tree and she was crying out her orgasm after a few rough strokes of his hand through the fabric of her dress.

  “You’re spectacular,” he’d panted into her mouth between kisses.

  “I’m a selfish cow, is what I am.” Selina was breathless. “You are spoiling me terribly.”

  “Good. I like spoiling you.”

  He certainly did. Lately, he’d taken to giving her expensive jewelry and baubles, and at first she’d tried to decline them all, telling him that everything felt overwhelming. But he had been so crestfallen, and she must’ve sensed it. She’d finally relented and accepted his gifts, but also told him that if he wanted to give her presents, she would look favorably on his gentlemanly offer of a half-dozen orgasms a day. He’d blushed fiercely and then bowed his agreement.

  That night, Selina was in his cozy study reading aloud from the final chapter of her manuscript. He was sitting casually on the floor, leaning against her leg, while Nora and Vanessa reclined on the large sofa. As she read from the climactic scene in which the heroine rescued the hero from the dreadful rat-infested dungeon, the door from the hall flew open and Beatrix Farnsworth came in like a gust of autumn wind.

  “Hello!”

  Without hesitation, Selina let fly from her lap all the pages of her manuscript and ran across the room to greet her beloved friend. She flew into Beatrix’s arms, crying her relief at her return. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  Archie watched with something akin to pride as his wife embraced her dearest companion. Selina’s loyalty and fervor were the things he’d come to admire most about her.

  Holding Selina close at her side, Beatrix looked up. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted—”

  “Come in! Come in!” He beamed, treading carefully over the sprawl of papers and reaching out to shake Beatrix’s hand. “Welcome home.”

  He could see how those simple words pleased Selina: the two people she loved most in the world were together in the same room—and loved her—and the world had not stopped spinning. She had shared her concerns with him, that he would be jealous of their friendship, that he would not wish her to continue their correspondence. Nonsense. Beatrix and Selina were the best of friends, and it was ludicrous to think he would (or could) prevent the continuation of their affection.

  Beatrix curtseyed formally. “Thank you, Lord Camburton.”

  “Please, you must call me Archie.”

  “Thank you, Archie.”

  Selina’s smile widened.

  “Vanessa, Nora.” Beatrix turned to the other two and kept hold of Selina’s hand. He gave Selina a small smile and then turned and began picking up and organizing the spilled pages of her manuscript.

  “How wonderful to have you back, Bea!” Vanessa cried with her usual enthusiasm. “You must tell us every last detail of your time on the Continent. You’re so brave and fearless to go abroad in the midst of all this Napoleonic rubbish.”

  “Yes, it was quite chaotic at certain points, but even men at war want to hear beautiful music—perhaps even more than men who are not at war. But don’t let me interrupt you. Were you reading, my dear?” She turned to Selina and squeezed her hand slightly.

  “I was. I finished the novel and I was reading the last chapter.”

  “Oh, I want to hear it! Will you continue?”

  “Yes.” Selina cleared her throat, and he noticed her flush of excitement. “You don’t mind hearing the ending before you hear the rest?”

  “You know I love your words no matter the order in which I hear them.”

  Archie now knew that Beatrix had been more than a supportive friend when it came to Selina’s writing; she had been the true instigator of her entire career. It had never dawned on Selina that she could actually get paid to do what she’d always done for her own pleasure—and sanity. For as long as Selina could remember, she’d told Archie, she had written things down. But only with Beatrix’s encouragement had she dared to submit her writing to publishers.

  Beatrix and Selina sat together on the small settee. Archie handed Selina the collated pages, smiled again, and then sat where he’d been before, on a pillow on the floor, loving the tenderness and camaraderie that filled the room.

  “We’re very happy to have you back,” he repeated, looking at Beatrix and then at Selina.

  “And I’m very happy to be back,” Beatrix replied warmly.

  Selina started the final chapter anew and read the words with an intensity and joy that he had never heard before. They all cheered when she finished. He ordered a celebratory bottle of champagne, and they all toasted what they were sure would be Selina’s best novel yet.

  Vanessa begged off near midnight. “You all have much to catch up on, and we are both exhausted.”

  Nora yawned her agreement. “And Bea, you must come practice in my studio as you often did last summer. The piano has been tuned, and I would love to paint while you play.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. That sounds wonderful. I will find you in the morning.”

  “Oh how fabulous!” Vanessa sighed and Archie thought she looked as if she might cry. “One big happy family.” She hugged Beatrix briefly, congratulated Selina again on her accomplishment with the book, and then hugged Archie as well. She whispered something about how very good he was and then she and Nora departed.

  He knew that Selina would be eager to spend time with Beatrix, filling her in on all the details of her new life here, and the surprises they’d arranged for Beatrix’s future life there as well. “I know you two wish to enjoy one another’s company after so many months apart, and I shan
’t intrude.” He leaned in and kissed Selina lightly on the lips, then turned and kissed Beatrix on each cheek. Something continental, he’d decided. A handshake or bow would have been too formal, and a kiss on the lips would have been too intimate.

  Selina grabbed his arm. “You don’t need to leave, darling.”

  He smiled and caressed her cheek lightly. “I am tired, and I have an early meeting with my steward. Spend time with your friend.”

  She blushed and kissed him again on the cheek. “Very well. I’ll be up shortly.”

  “Take your time, my dear.” He nodded again, saw the happiness in both Selina’s and Beatrix’s eyes, and left the room.

  As he walked slowly up the grand staircase—the late-night sprints were now long past—he heard a bubble of joyful laughter and then the soft chatter of the two women he’d left behind. Being able to provide Selina with the life she’d always craved but never thought she deserved was turning out to be the greatest gift of his own life.

  He arrived in his dressing room to find his valet waiting for him. As Reynolds helped him remove his close-fitting jacket, he thought about all the turmoil and upset he’d experienced earlier in the fall. The trip to London; the trip to Rockingham. He wanted to re-experience everything with Selina and Beatrix happily settled.

  An idea popped into his head and it pleased him. “Perhaps we should go to London for Christmas, Reynolds. What do you say?”

  “It sounds very unpleasant.” Reynolds had always hated going into town and never hid the fact.

  “Then it’s decided. Please begin packing my things, and I will speak with the marchioness and Miss Farnsworth later about when they would like to go.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Reynolds made no attempt to hide his displeasure.

  “Your enthusiasm is downright infectious.”