by Goldie
“I’m going home to get me a bit of lunch.”
“What are you having?”
“Just a chunk of bread and some soup.” She pulled away and eyed him suspiciously. “You want to finish what we started, your lordship?”
“Yes, dear,” he answered in all honesty. “I do so want to fuck you.”
She brought her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “My price has gone up.”
His cock demanded he pay her price. “Fine. What do you want?” he mumbled.
Reaching for his hand, she led him down the narrow alley between the pub and an abandoned shop. She glanced over her shoulder. “I want that new gown and some of them kid gloves.”
He chuckled. “All right. How about a pink gown?”
“Blue.”
“You can have whatever color you want,” he said as they left the alley and headed toward a small, whitewashed shack.
Stepping up on the rickety porch, she stopped. “And I want you to carry me over the threshold as if we were a proper couple.”
“Well, we’re not a proper couple, are we?”
“No.” She giggled. “We’re very improper. Now pick me up and take me to my bed.”
He chuckled and scooped her easily into his arms. Using the toe of his boot, he pushed open the door and walked the three steps to the narrow bed. Depositing her on the straw mattress, he shut the door, tossed his hat onto the floor, and removed his coat and tie.
“Get those clothes off,” he muttered, coming to his knees before her. “I want to see everything my gown is going to cover.”
She quirked a brow and smiled as she shimmied out of her clothing and undergarments. His cock grew harder with each item that puddled on the floor before him. He took in a deep breath as he ogled her nude form. She was shorter and heavier than Goldie, yet she would do.
“Lie down,” he commanded, twisting the fabric of his tie in his hands.
She obeyed, her copper curls fanning out on the white pillow. Straddling her, he took her hands and bound them to the bed post.
“What are you doing?” she asked, squirming beneath him, the feel of her motion arousing him all that much more.
“Just a little game.”
“Please,” she panted. “I don’t like it.”
“You will,” he said, freeing his lower half from the confines of his pants. “You’ll feel more without your hands to distract you.”
“Oh my,” she muttered, staring at his rod. “I’ll bleed like a virgin.”
Lying atop her, he smiled and buried his face in the bend of her neck, images of Goldie’s smiling eyes coming to mind.
“Spread your legs,” he muttered, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Why you paying for this?” she asked, her breathing coming in gasps. “You’re beautiful.”
“No complications,” he returned.
He lowered his mouth to hers to keep her from talking. The coarse sound of her voice voided the fantasy of fucking the golden maiden.
She moaned as he probed her mouth with his tongue. She obviously liked the ale served at the pub for she tasted and smelled of it. Yet, it didn’t bother him. No, it intoxicated.
He ran his hand down the length of her body and imagined the soft feel of Goldie beneath his touch. Her sweet, virginal body would be his to soil. His heart was set. He would have her.
Unable to contain his desire, he slammed his cock deep into the barmaid, the picture of Goldie’s surprised expression urging him deeper.
The woman let out a moan, and he removed his kiss.
“Sir, please. I wasn’t ready. Are you made of steel?”
“Shh,” he mumbled. “Don’t talk.”
He kept his eyes closed, wondering if Goldie would be as slick as the woman he now occupied. He’d make sure she was. He’d have her begging for him.
Gyrating his hips, he filled her with his full length. “Steel,” he grumbled and started to pulse within her with such force, he lifted her off the bed.
“Oh,” she cried out.
At her urging, he continued to pound her flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked beneath him.
“That’s good there, my lord,” she shrieked. “Right there, put it right there.”
She moaned so loudly that he found himself smiling. He was either giving it to her the way she liked, or she was a damned good actress. Either way, he was near release.
Clenching his jaw, he slammed into her a final time, the pressure of seed spilling from his body so great that he, too, moaned. “Sweet Goldie.”
“No, sir. My name is Naomi.”
Chapter 2
“I’m not ready to marry, Father,” Goldie moaned, plopping down on the edge of the burgundy settee. “I’m barely of age. I’m happy here with you and Mother.” She glanced around, her favorite room. The parlor had always been so cozy and comfy and full of precious memories. “Can’t this courting business wait six months?”
She met her father’s stern gaze with a stubborn one of her own. But despite how strongly she felt, short of running away and living the life of a street urchin, she knew it was futile. For if Father wanted her wed to Joseph Behr, Goldie would wed Joseph Behr. Her small dowry and low standing in society made the match with the youngest son of a duke very tempting.
Father lifted a brow and ran his hand along the smooth, dark wood of the fireplace mantle. “This is your chance to help your family. Besides, your mother and I aren’t getting any younger and would like to see you settled before we join the Lord in the great beyond.”
Oh, how she hated his flair for the dramatic. If his parents hadn’t insisted he marry her mother, she was certain he would be on a stage somewhere pretending to be someone else, rather than pretending to be a husband and father.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “You’re as fit as a fiddle.”
“That may be so, but I’d like to be fit enough to hold my first grandchild in my arms.”
“But Father…”
“No buts, child. The duke and I have corresponded. The conditions for your marriage are very favorable. You will have your own home, and Joseph is worth a thousand pounds a year.”
“But I’ve only met him once. He makes me uncomfortable.”
Herbert Locksley shrugged his heavy shoulder. “For a thousand pounds a year, I’m certain you can make your own happiness.”
Tears stung Goldie’s eyes. “I will be the dutiful daughter you desire,” she said, all the while trying to figure a way out of the mess.
Herbert walked by and rested his hand on her shoulder. “’Twill be a good life for you, daughter. Of that I am sure.”
With a sniffle, Goldie stood and walked toward the window. The forest beyond her childhood home called to her, promising clean air and a temporary reprieve from thoughts of Joseph Behr.
She grabbed up her jacket and marched toward the front door. “Where are you going, child?”
“For a breath of air.”
“Don’t be long. Joseph will be here to sup this night. I don’t want you falling asleep in your soup.”
Goldie shot him a glare. “As if one could ever sleep amidst your terrible slurping.”
Herbert laughed, a laugh full of glee. But Goldie suspected it had less to do with her remark and more to do with the thought of one thousand pounds a year.
* * * *
“Do I look the dashing gentleman?” Joseph asked, his eyes twinkling as he walked down the staircase and toward his brother.
“Well, you would,” William replied from the entryway, “if you could erase that smirk.”
“I can’t,” Joseph said. “For tonight I dine with the most glorious angel in England, or possibly, the entire world.”
“Ah, yes, your immanent engagement. The girl’s father is on board, but is the girl?”
Joseph brushed aside William’s concern with a flick of his wrist. “Not formally, but she will be mine. I plan on sealing the deal with a kiss this very night.
” Joseph grinned. “I imagine she tastes like heaven, don’t you suppose?”
Fire burned in William’s gut. His brother was a cad. Everyone knew it. Everyone accepted it. And now, that fool Herbert Locksley was not only going to agree to a marriage, but was going to insist upon it.
“And our father? Has he accepted your marrying the daughter of an inconsequential gentleman with very little land and a large amount of debt? For I have sent word of my misgivings. I think perhaps you should hold off on anything official until I hear back.”
Joseph stopped near the door, gazing into the gilt-framed mirror and smoothing back his hair. “Father and Sir Locksley agreed upon terms via messenger.”
“Did you hear what I said?” William demanded. “Hold off. Just dine with the lady. You cannot know—”
“I know she’ll be mine,” Joseph shouted, turning to face his brother. “Stop meddling. You want her for yourself. You can’t have her. Besides, Father wants me to settle down and marry. At this point, it could be a scullery maid. Goldie will garner respect and envy.”
William crossed his arms and paced the floor. Damn his father. The bloody bastard would give anything to gain respectability for his most foolish, youngest son. The boy most like him and least like their dear mother. He’d be far wiser to concern himself with the virginal Edmund and leave Joseph to his ghastly habits. Habits that a delicate marigold would no doubt be unable to handle.
Images of her laughing, the sun glinting gold off her glorious curls, entered into his fevered mind. Skin so creamy white, lips so rosy, no doubt she felt and tasted of heaven. His wolfish brother would devour her in one gulp.
“I see my choice in bride has already made me the envy of someone, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m going for a ride,” William grumbled, pushing past his brother. “Reconsider ruining her life.”
Joseph straightened his coat. “My mind is made up. Best for you to accept it and be ready to join me in a celebratory toast this evening. I plan on getting quite foxed. William’s jaw tightened. He tore open the front door. “Why should tonight be different from any other Saturday night?”
* * * *
Even the forest’s beauty did little to ease the knot that had taken the place of Goldie’s stomach. How was she supposed to do this?
Tears blurred her vision, and she stumbled. Maybe the life of a street urchin would be preferable to marrying a virtual stranger. “A handsome stranger who seems quite taken with you,” she reasoned aloud. “It could be worse. I could be marrying Rudyard, the pig farmer.”
Lowering herself on the trunk of a downed tree, she buried her face in her hands. Maybe things wouldn’t be so horrible once she had a good cry. Joseph was a decent match, better than she ever expected, and yet her heart ached for something more. Was it wrong to want to be loved and to be in love?
At the furious sound of beating hooves, Goldie looked up from her perch. The devil himself seemed to be riding toward her on the back of a black steed. Jumping to her feet, she determined to get out of the demon’s way before he trampled her to death.
With her sudden movement, the animal veered from its path, heading straight for her. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain that was sure to follow any sort of impact. God knew this was not the way out she wanted, and marriage to Joseph was definitely starting to look better.
But the physical impact never came. With her eyes still closed, she felt the hot breath of the beast against her heated skin and smelled the sweet scent of hay. Lifting her lashes, she came face to face with the devil’s spawn and felt herself foolish. The creature bore the softest brown eyes. He blew out an impatient breath and nudged her with his muzzle.
“Sorry,” the rider said from atop the massive steed. “I didn’t expect to see anyone along this trail.”
With the setting sun to the man’s back, she was unable to make out any features, but the silhouette of his form was fine and youthful and strong. The voice was so deep and rich that a delighted chill raced across her body. “It is a lonely trail, to be sure.”
“Then why choose it, angel?”
She took a step back and shielded her eyes with a cupped hand, hoping to learn the man’s identity. “Do I know you?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, the leather of his saddle protesting his dismount. Removing his cap, he bowed his dark head, and stepped into the light.
William Behr stood before her, beautiful William Behr. Just the sight of him set butterflies loose and had her mouth watering for that kiss. That kiss she had dreamt of since seeing him for the first time.
“I am William, Joseph’s brother.”
She dipped her knee and lowered her head as fresh tears stung her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, offering her a crisp linen handkerchief.
“Sir, you needn’t concern yourself with the affairs of a silly maiden’s heart.” She took the hanky and dabbed her eyes, feeling suddenly foolish.
“So, your mind is not set upon marrying my brother?” Was that a lightening of his tone? Looking at him now, with the small bits of light piercing the canopy of leaves, the man took her breath. He was aglow in fading golden rays. Why couldn’t someone like him ask after her?
“My mind? No.” She shook her head. “My father’s most definitely.”
William exhaled, the whisper of his breath tickling her skin and bringing her eyes to his. “Then don’t marry him.” His gaze caressed her face. “Don’t have anything to do with him.”
Surprise had her lower jaw agape. “Why?”
William raked his fingers through his hair, hair that shone blue in the sunlight. “You’ll have to trust his brother.”
Her curiosity piqued, she narrowed her gaze. “How can I trust a brother who won’t tell me all?” Annoyed, she handed him back the handkerchief.
For a long moment, they stared at each other, a need in her arising that she couldn’t explain. A jolt of excitement stemmed from her abdomen and shot through her entire being.
“You’re going to have to.” He pulled his hand from his glove and, reaching out, touched her cheek.
She didn’t respond, far too aroused by the warmth that radiated from his fingertips. She was enthralled, enchanted. Reflected in his gray eyes, she saw a smoldering heat.
“What are you doing?”
He cupped the side of her face. “I don’t know.” He stepped close.
Her heart beat so hard, her legs grew so weak, she felt as though she could tumble into him. Yet she needed to move back. Why was it her body refused to be moved?
“Don’t you feel it? It’s remarkable, really.” As if pulled by some unknown force, he leaned in. “So powerful.” She tilted her chin, waiting for his lips to touch hers, needing them more than wanting.
“Yes, but isn’t it wrong?”
“It’s not. It can’t be.” With that said, he set his mouth atop hers, his lips every bit as amazing as she imagined…but more. They were just the right combination of hard and soft, the pressure perfectly suited to her desire—forceful enough to show her the passion that simmered within him, yet gentle enough to bring her closer. She was a moth and he a flickering flame.
Her hands on his chest, she relished the feel of his heart beating beneath her fingertips. Inhaling, she savored the woodsy, masculine scent of him. She grew moist at the idea of him taking her fully, right there on the woodland path.
He pulled her to him, his hands tracing the line of her spine, his fingertips kneading the flesh.
When he pulled away, she feared he would stop his passionate assault. She was afraid her kiss was too inadequate to please an obviously experienced man. But what she saw in his eyes bespoke a wantonness that had her heart thundering in her chest.
“I want you desperately,” he mumbled, his breathing ragged.
Joy flared, heating her blood to a near boil. Would this beautiful man be the answer to her prayers? “You do?”
“And if my life were mine, there would be a marriage.
But it would be between you and me and not you and Joseph.”
She swallowed hard, the butterflies resurfacing, their wings soft against her stomach. “Are you saying you wish to marry me?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes. But my name is forever entwined with another, no matter what my heart wants. My duty as a husband belongs to her. My wedding date is but a year away.”
Her heart plummeted. “I see.”
“No, I don’t believe you do.” He took a step back and blew out a harsh breath. “I have means, Goldie. Although my name will not be yours, I can take care of you.”
Her lower lip trembled. “As what?” she asked, but she realized the answer even as the question poured from her lips. “As your mistress?”
He looked away, the shame in his countenance almost as tangible as the pain that shot through her heart. “Yes.”
Her lower jaw trembled as tears poured forth from her eyes. “I’m not a whore.”
“No,” he said, reaching for her, but she sidestepped his advances. “Not a whore.”
“Well, you can’t love me. We’ve shared but a moment in time and a kiss…yet you offer me money to lie in your bed.”
He started toward her, his gaze pleading. “A bed fit for you. My brother cannot offer you that.”
“Perhaps not,” she replied, lifting her chin in hopes to recapture a bit of the pride that had surrendered itself to his kiss. “But he offers me security, a decent name, and a future free of ridicule.”
William’s mouth tightened into a bitter line. “We shall see about that, won’t we?”
“Indeed we will. The sooner the better.”
“Take care,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I need no advice from you,” she said, her glare every bit as formidable as the one he now bestowed upon her. “Good day to you, sir.”
“Good luck to you, my lady.”
* * * *
“Yes? Did you say yes?” Joseph moved closer to her on the settee, his muscular thigh brushing against her leg. His angular face was alight with what could only be delight.
“Tell me, sweet. Tell me again that you will be my wife.”
His exuberance was catching, and although she longed for her answer to be spoken to another, she felt for the first time that perhaps she could love Joseph. Not today, but maybe tomorrow. She smiled and glanced around at her parents’ home. Soon she would have her own, and perhaps as a wife, she’d have more luck doing things she longed to than she had as a daughter. “I said yes. I am pleased to be your bride.”