When she was fully aroused, he poised between her legs and pressed his erection to her core.
Brenna sensed hesitation. “Please. I need—” The sentiment was left unfinished as he gently pressed inside her.
A brief moment of discomfort followed as her body adjusted to his presence. He pushed deep, and she whimpered softly. He trailed kisses up her neck, nipped her ear, and licked a nipple.
Slowly, he moved within her while teasing her with his mouth. Soon she forgot the initial discomfort as her body responded to his play. “Mmmmm,” she said, “yes.” She wasn’t certain what she was searching for, but he knew. He slipped a hand between them and gently rubbed her core.
Brenna gasped and pressed against his hand. Richard teased her until she felt weightless, breathless. Crying out, she arched back on the bed as her body found her release.
His movements quickened. She returned her hands to his buttocks, encouraging his own release. Within moments, he let out a hoarse sound and shuddered, pumping twice more inside her.
The harsh sigh that followed, as he dropped onto the bed beside her, did not bode well for her. Brenna felt his emotions withdraw even before he’d moved from her body.
“Have we returned to guilt again, Milord?” she asked, staring up at the cracked ceiling. She’d just lost her innocence. She wanted to be held in his strong arms, have him whisper sweet sentiments in her ear. Instead, she said, “No one will know of this, save us.”
He said nothing. Brenna sighed and pulled the worn sheet over her nakedness. She was too pleased with him to bicker. If he wanted to spend their time here thinking about her father, it was his issue. She rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
Richard listened to Brenna’s breath even out and quietly called himself all sorts of names he’d not used since his days as a rebel at Cambridge. The shame of having taken her, the guilt over betraying her father, and his own lack of control left him angry and frustrated.
All his plans to never marry again were thwarted by one moment of bad judgment. In spite of Brenna’s plan to help him find Anne and then marry him, he had no real intention of doing so. He’d let her think that in order to keep her from pressing the issue.
Now he had to marry her. There was no choice. He could not send her back to her father ruined.
His friend would be outraged. The moment Brenna had found him on that first day, he should have returned her to London on the morning coach and not looked back. He never should have allowed her to accompany him on this futile chase.
It had been the sweet scent of her skin and those damnable green eyes that made him lose all sense. One look into them and he’d agreed to throw himself blindly off a cliff.
Hell, her hands on him as she tended his wound, and the feel of his arm on her thigh, had almost caused him to spill himself in his breeches. His body had taken control, and his mind shut down. Her taste had driven him mad.
Lud. What had he done?
No excuse would satisfy Walter. Perhaps a wedding would save him from being murdered. Something he richly deserved.
He ran all sorts of excuses through his head, words needed to satisfy an outraged father. Nothing eased his conscience.
It was exhaustion that finally let him sleep.
Richard startled awake sometime later with a hand circling his erection. Befuddled, he sat upright to see Brenna, framed by the last threads of sunset trailing into the cracked window, smiling at him through a seductive mass of tangled hair.
He went steel hard. “Brenna, release my cock.”
She tightened her hold. There was no pain, only pleasure.
“I will not.”
Richard closed his hand over hers. The stubborn set of her chin revealed her determination. “Can you not let me revel in my guilt without pushing the boundary further? I have already led you astray and have betrayed a man I greatly admire. Will you not leave me in peace?”
“I’m afraid not.” Hunger filled her eyes.
She finally released him by fondling his shaft. She rose from where she lay, the sheet falling away to expose her beautiful, lush, and naked body to his gaze.
Dragging the sheet free of him, she straddled his hips and positioned his cock between her legs.
“Lud, Brenna,” he groaned. She leaned forward until her breasts pressed against his chest. In an act of betrayal, his hands slid up her legs and clasped her delightful buttocks.
“You have already ruined me, Milord. You cannot ruin me a second time. So why waste the hours between now and dawn arguing, when I give you permission to take me again and again?”
Richard wanted to protest, to ease her off and flee the room. Instead, he reached between them, adjusted her position, and impaled himself into her warmth.
Gasping, he was lost. Her slick heat wrapped around him, tormenting him with his desire.
Brenna moved up and down his length, her movements slow and unsure. Still, somewhere she’d learned something about the matters of sex, though he knew full well he’d stolen her virginity.
“You are destroying me,” he gasped, as she brushed her fingertips over his nipples.
A seductive grin spread over her delightful mouth. Her lids lowered halfway. “I feel the same.”
She kissed him then, her mouth taking his, her breasts flattening on his chest. Never had he felt such complete loss of control with a woman than he felt with this innocent temptress.
His own ruin was complete. He’d take her now, he’d take her later, and he’d take her as many times as he could between now and dawn, as she wished. And then when they crossed over into Scotland, he’d marry her, the impulsive and beautiful and exasperating chit with the bewitching green eyes.
Lord help him.
Chapter Nine
Brenna awoke with a stiff neck and muscle aches all over her body. It felt as though she’d been dragged across a glen by her horse with her foot trapped in a stirrup. It was when she heard Richard breathing softly beside her that her body warmed and her heart tugged.
He’d made love to her three times. Three times! This proved he did care. How could he not? All his bluster had been a wall to guard his heart. But somehow she’d breached his defenses. The tender way he’d taken her certainly showed his affection.
Lud, Richard had even killed a man to protect her. He was her dangerous highwayman. They were fated to be together.
Relief welled in Brenna. Posh on the marriage of convenience! She’d wanted a love match, and a love match she would have. Just like her parents and Simon had.
She snuggled along his side and felt the tug of first love bloom inside her heart. He did not have to love her in return. Not yet. However, that would come in time. She just had to be patient. He’d suffered great loss. They’d have years together to overcome the last of the barriers around his heart.
She stretched and kissed his shoulder. Never again would she smell his particular scent without fondly remembering last evening.
She trailed kisses across his rib cage. When his hand came up to stop her progression, she noticed that his eyes were open, and it wasn’t passion she saw there.
“Good morning,” she said softly, and rose to steal a kiss. He avoided her mouth and rolled from the bed. He padded across the room to collect his breeches and gave her a delicious view of his backside. It was indeed perfect. “Come back to bed and warm me. The room is too cold—”
“Get dressed,” he said sharply, interrupting her sentiment. “We leave immediately for Scotland.”
“Richard?” This curt stranger had taken over the passionate and gentle man from last evening. She watched him jerk on his clothing and stuff his meager possessions into his pack. Throughout, he refused to look at her.
Brenna dressed, her stomach knotted, and she felt ill. Had she misread the situation? Perhaps the lack of sleep had left him cross. If she gave him time to soothe his temper, all would be well.
She desperately hoped for that outcome, her mind fighting against a growing sense of doom.
>
She braided her hair and stuffed it under her hood.
The breakfast was cold porridge and bread that formed a thick clot in her throat. She gave up eating after a few bites. Dread made the already tasteless meal unpalatable.
Once the horses had been collected and they were on the road, Brenna eased Brontes up beside him.
“Have I done something to anger you?” she asked. There was nothing from her memories to make such a conclusion. When last they’d slept, she’d been snuggled in his arms.
He finally looked at her. “You’ve done nothing. I am worried for Anne is all.” He urged his horse to a faster clip.
Brenna felt the half truth in his words. He was back to guilt and regret. She wanted to remove her boot and launch it at his head. Unfortunately, that would not help her cause.
Instead of pressing the matter, she followed in silence until they reached the border. After crossing into Gretna Green, Richard left Brenna with the horses and inquired around the village after Anne and Lockley. He received no helpful information. Couples frequently came and left without leaving a mark. There was nothing that would stand out about his missing sister.
“Isn’t it good that no one remembers her?” Brenna asked, when he returned with the news. “Perhaps she had a change of heart and is now awaiting your return to Beckwith Hall.”
Richard rubbed his temples. “Then where is Andrew? He was to leave me word once he arrived here. Instead, he has vanished, too. I worry that he has come to harm.”
“Is it possible he has found information about Anne to lead him in another direction?”
Staring off across the village, Richard sighed. “This trip has proven fruitless. Wherever Anne is, unless she has reclaimed her senses, I am too late to save her.”
“Then we shall hope good sense has won out over the charms of a wicked man.” Brenna forced a positive tone. “If she is as intelligent as you say, she will reach the correct conclusion about Lockley.”
“I can only hope.”
Richard collected the horses. He tugged their reins, and they followed him like well-trained dogs. “Come, we have an appointment.”
Puzzled, Brenna hurried to keep up with his brisk strides. They came to a blacksmith’s shop, and Richard tied the horses to a post. When they entered the building, a rough-looking man was wiping his dirty hands on a cloth, and a woman of middle years stood nearby, next to a young woman in braids. The older woman came over and took Brenna’s hand. Her grip was strong, and her eyes were kind.
“Why, ye are lovely, lass,” she said, with a smile. “I can see why yer man is so eager ta wed ye.”
Wed? Brenna turned to Richard. He was speaking to the blacksmith, his back to her. There was nothing in his treatment of her, since rising this morning, to indicate he planned to wed her. Had the woman misread the situation?
Her confusion notched up. Was his sour mood related to the panic some men experienced on their wedding day?
A renewed flush of hope filled her, and the glum day brightened. He wanted to marry her! He did care!
“Bring the flowers, Cliona,” the woman said to the girl, and Cliona hurried over with a small bouquet of fresh-cut flowers. “Now let us get ye married.”
Brenna accepted the bouquet, lifted it to her nose, and gazed over at Richard. He was a bit dusty and his hair was mussed, but in minutes he’d be her husband; every exasperating, irritating, frustrating, and devastatingly handsome part of him.
And she could not wait.
A blacksmith joining them together for eternity was certainly not the wedding she’d dreamed of. Still, she was marrying her viscount, and she was nearly giddy with anticipation.
When the ceremony commenced, Brenna said her vows in a wavering voice and stood silent as he said his. She accepted the brush of his mouth and signed the registry after. Richard declined the offer of tea and hurried Brenna out of the shop.
“Richard, wait.” She had so many questions, so much to say to him. But he was off again, his brisk strides forcing her to trot to keep hold of his arm.
He did not stop. Instead, he said tersely, “We will eat and return to England. I have arranged for a coach to take us back to London.”
All her girlish dreams of her happily ever after formed a hard lump in her heart. He hadn’t softened toward her one whit.
The coldness in him followed them through a simple meal at an inn and as he secured their horses to the awaiting coach and helped her inside. Brenna shivered as she settled across from him on the bench seat, his eyes icy as they turned from her to stare out the window.
It was then that she shook off the fog of harsh reality and disappointment. With the clearing of her mind, heat prickled up her spine. She wasn’t about to be cast aside, as if she were some doxy he’d found on a wharf and took up against the side of a warehouse. She was his wife, legal and binding, even if the ceremony had been performed by a man who shod horses.
“Why did you marry me, Richard?” she demanded.
“You told me I would, so I did,” he said, his tone flat. His eyes bore into her. “Certainly that pleases you?”
Her spine stiffened. “Nothing about this pleases me. The romantic gesture of a surprise wedding fell away when I realized that I am now forever tied to a man who cannot give his wife a single word of kindness on their wedding day.”
Richard leveled his frown on her. She inwardly blanched.
“If you wanted kindness, you should have picked another groom. This marriage is one of convenience, nothing more. I have done my duty by you.”
Brenna felt the slap of contempt as if he’d hit her. The night they’d shared meant nothing to him. Nothing. She blinked back tears. He’d not see her cry.
She felt foolish for thinking they would be happy. She’d known of his feelings about marriage. She did not expect grand declarations of love and devotion to come into their arrangement. However, she had expected him to accept the marriage with grace, as a gentleman would.
What a fool she was.
Turning away, the last vestiges of hopeful innocence faded. She’d mistaken his desire for her body as something more. She’d thought she was falling in love. Had she been worldly, she would have recognized the difference between the two.
It was a mistake she’d not make again.
For the next two days, they shared rooms and beds, but there was no intimacy. They were two strangers who spoke only when required. When they made their last overnight stop before reaching London, Brenna had come to a grim conclusion. The marriage was over.
She’d spent these last reflective hours looking into her heart and realized that she could not, would not, live within a marriage of convenience. She wanted love, and she’d find her way to it, even if she had to hunt down every eligible bachelor in all of London to find her perfect match.
“I have decided not to tell Father about our marriage,” she said, her voice firm. He lifted his eyes from his supper. “Now that I am in no danger of being forced into a marriage to Chester Abbot, I will spend the next few weeks searching for an acceptable man to marry—a man who will love me desperately and with whom I can grow to love in return. Once I have made my choice, I’ll grant you permission to have our marriage annulled. It should be easy to complete, as I will never share your marital bed.”
“You cannot be serious.” He stared, incredulous. “If your precious society found out that your husband had your marriage annulled, you’d be shunned.”
“That is why you will arrange it quietly.” Brenna’s cheeks flushed. How could she have ever wanted to marry this man? She never thought Chester Abbot could ever be a superior choice to what she had in Lord Ashwood. She was incorrect. “I will only tell Father if I am unable to find an acceptable replacement and he forces the issue. Otherwise, you will be rid of me, and your life will continue as it was.”
Richard could not believe what he was hearing. Brenna did not want to be his wife? After all she’d done to get him to agree to the marriage, and the noble effor
t he’d made to correct his mistake for taking her innocence, she was setting him aside?
Blast. He’d been honest about his feelings on marriage from the start. Still, he had ruined her and done his duty by her, despite his misgivings. What more did she expect from him? She was the one who’d first proposed the arrangement.
“You are no longer a virgin,” he said tightly. “How will you explain that to your husband?”
She lifted her pert nose. “That is my concern.”
“And if there is a child?” he pressed. The idea of another man playing father to his child, or sharing a bed with her, left him cold. Despite his callous treatment of her these last few days, she’d gotten into his mind, taken control of his body. Even now, he ached to drag her upstairs and explore her lovely curves. Her icy tone told him that she did not feel the same.
Gone was the dewy expression she’d leveled on him the morning he’d awoken, satiated, in her arms. The look he’d quickly quelled before she’d had the chance to fancy herself in love with him.
“I do not think that is possible,” Brenna said, dismissive. “We spent but one night together. By the time I have found a suitor, I should know if I will bear your offspring.”
Richard’s head pounded. He imagined a young nobleman climbing into Brenna’s bed, kissing her breasts, pleasuring her, and reveling in her passionate nature.
He blinked to clear the image. If he was so eager to be free of his troublesome wife, why, then, did his stomach burn with the desire to strangle any man who touched her?
“What then?” he snapped. “Will you lead him to believe he’s the father?”
Brenna took a sip of tea. “I will decide then what to do if your seed has planted in fertile ground. We will not worry about it now. All we can do is pray that fate has not settled upon us that grim hand.”
Grim hand? She did not want his child?
The headache pounded in his temples. This emotionless woman was the same Brenna who’d made love to him so passionately? The same woman who’d begged him to take her while whispering encouragement as he’d explored every inch of her with his mouth?
A Convenient Bride Page 8