Scandalous Brides

by Annette Blair

  “Well, you were terribly preoccupied, dear,” Hildy said as she came and offered her cheek. “Wish us happy.”

  “I do. Giff, you sly old bachelor. This will change everything, you know.” Hawk shook his uncle’s hand.

  “It certainly will.” Giff coughed and leaned close. “I am too old for all this sneaking about.”

  “We would like to lease the dower house, if you would allow us?” Hildy looked from Alex to Hawk and back, clearly unsure as to which of them she should ask.

  Hawk looked to Alex for Hildy’s answer.

  “You may have the dower house as a wedding gift.”

  “I shall write today to have Davis set someone to doing the necessary repairs,” Hawk said. “When will you marry?”

  Giff regarded Hildy. “Next Saturday?”

  Hildy nodded, her smile radiant. “The day before Christmas Eve.”

  “Immediate repairs.”

  “A week,” Alex said. “Gad, we have a lot to do.”

  Though the beauty of youth had long since deserted Hildy and Giff, and the years had left their mark, Hawk saw such love, such adoration, in both their gazes. Neither seemed to see anything but beauty in the other. In their own ways, they were as scarred as him, by time, but that did not seem to matter a jot to either of them.

  Hawk turned to Alex then and found himself mesmerized by her smile. I missed you, he wanted to say. I want to take you to bed.

  Without a word, she took his hand and led him from the room, as if she read his thoughts.

  No one made a move to question or stop them. “Do not forget that we have guests coming for Grandmama’s birthday dinner.” Claudia’s words floated upon the air behind them.

  Hawk allowed Alex to precede him into their apartment, and then he followed her in and shut the bedchamber door.

  “I told you I would be back.”

  Alex stepped into his arms.

  ~ ~ ~

  DINNER WAS A frustrating affair to begin with, Hawk thought, for there were too many people. Besides him and Alex, Giff and Hildy, Hazelthorpe and the duchess, Gideon and Sabrina, someone had included Baxter and Miss Phyllida Middlemarch in the invitation, along with Chesterfield, of all people.

  “What the bloody devil are those three doing here?” Hawk whispered to Alex as he escorted her in to dinner.

  “Claudia said that they will make Grandmama’s party as merry as mice in malt.”

  Hawk wanted to kiss her again, even though they had kissed for all of an hour. First just standing there, the door at his back, then with him sitting and her in his lap, then on the bed. And just when things began to get interesting, the bell rang and it was time to dress for dinner.

  Hawk wished to the devil that Chesterfield would find a wife of his own. He wanted to be free to ask Alex the question he ached to ask—whether she would stay or go—but he did not feel safe doing so with Chesterfield available for her to go to.

  Hawk now knew that he could be brave in the face of war, but in life, he was still a coward.

  By the time he grasped the conversation going on about him, the duchess had invited Baxter and Chesterfield to spend Christmas with them, and when Hawk realized it, he nearly swallowed his deviled kidney whole.

  Claudia, the brat, smiled with satisfaction. “If you arrive on the morning before Christmas Eve,” she said, “you will be here for Aunt Hildy and Uncle Giff’s wedding, then for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and my ball the night after. Chesterfield, you will come?”

  The man had the audacity to look from Hawk to Alex and grin, then he winked at Claudia. “I would be honored.”

  “And you, Baxter?” the duchess asked. “It has been a long time since you spent Christmas with your family.”

  “I look forward to it,” he said, too cocky by half.

  Alex had decided before coming downstairs for the birthday celebration that she had teased Hawksworth long enough. Tonight she would stage her ultimate seduction. She even wore her mother’s cameo on a black silk ribbon as a signal to Sabrina.

  Between them, they made certain Hawk’s glass was always full. Bree said that spirits would relax him so he would let down his guard, promising it was nothing like drugging him. Hawk would know what he was doing. Then she explained in great detail, from careful observation, said she, how a man would respond to each enticement.

  Making love seemed to be something of a refined game with Sabrina and Gideon, besides an expression of the profound feelings they shared. Sabrina said their spirits and hearts became closer with the physical expression of their love.

  More than ever, Alex wanted that experience. She wanted Hawksworth as her lover, as well as her husband.

  Everyone wanted to play cards after supper. Vingt-et-un or Whist. A table was set up for each. Chesterfield and Claude would be partners, and Miss Middlemarch and Baxter.

  Alex heard her aunt ask Giff to partner her.

  “You hate playing cards, remember?” Alex told Hildy, who laughed at her sorry memory and sat with the duchess for a comfortable coze.

  Alex took Giff by the arm to be escorted about the room. “I am so pleased that you will be my real uncle now.”

  “And I thought I would die a lonely old bachelor.”

  “You were never a lonely old bachelor. You have always had Bryceson. He thinks the world of you. We all do.”

  Giff grinned. “Imagine that.”

  “Have you and Hildy had an opportunity to talk?”

  “Us? We talk all the time. Hildy and I have no secrets from each other.”

  Alex smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Hawksworth’s and Gideon’s after-dinner brandy goblets emptied fast and often. The rogues sat across from each other, Gideon telling Hawk about his first shocked sight of the pregnant bride Hawk had secured for him.

  Alex caught Sabrina’s eye. Both men had imbibed enough, they agreed with a nod, especially as Sabrina seemed to have a special night planned, herself.

  Alex dubbed Bree the queen of seduction then, for even as Alex watched, all Bree had to do was walk up behind her husband and skim the shell of his ear with a finger. Like a shot, she had Gideon’s undivided attention, and almost that fast, they said their good-byes and were on their way home.

  Someday, I would like to be that married, Alex thought, as she approached Hawksworth. She tried stroking his ear, but he batted the air as if she were a pesky fly. Then she sat on the footstool by his chair and took his hand. And while he played with her fingers, he was engrossed in a story Hazelthorpe was telling.

  “It has been a long day,” she said, and Hawk nodded. Perhaps he was too relaxed. Was that possible?

  Drastic times, Alex thought. “Hawk,” she said. “My back aches.”

  And that was all it took. They were on their way within moments, Alex feeling cherished, for she caught the possessive look Hawk tossed Chesterfield’s way before escorting her from the room.

  She had also caught the look Chesterfield gave Claudia then, which bore looking into, and nipping in the proverbial bud, but not tonight.

  Tonight was for her and Hawk and she intended that it would be spectacular.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  WHILE HAWK UNDRESSED in his own dressing room, Alex undressed in hers. She set lit candles about the bed, and stepped from her gown before getting in. She lay on her stomach and made sure the bedclothes were barely covering her, before she hugged her pillow and closed her eyes.

  But when she heard her husband approach, she opened them, for Hawksworth in his black brocade dressing gown was as gorgeous as a mythical god. And, lo and behold, said myth climbed into bed with her.

  He skimmed a hand down her back without the oil, as if for the simple pleasure of touching her, with nothing, not even oil, between them.

  He could have no idea how badly she wanted to do the same, to open his dressing gown and let her hands wander at will, which she would do, before this night was over.

  They kissed and kissed before even opening that pale green
jar. Then the oil, or her reaction to it, or both, did its magic. Alex was not certain which of them was more ready. She did know who was more stubborn. Hawk would not give in to his need any more tonight than in the past, so when she pretended sleep, he lay beside her and throbbed against her forever, until he slept.

  Lord, she hoped Sabrina’s theory was correct, that he would sleep deeply and be easy to seduce when she woke him.

  Alex slipped carefully from the bed, to be certain Hawk did not wake. The black ribbons on her dressing table were already tied with the necessary knots. All she need do was slip the loops over the bedposts, which she did with dispatch, and then over Hawk’s wrists and ankles, and pull, tight.

  Except that he needed to change position. Drat.

  Whatever she tried, she could not get him to move. At length, she touched his ear, and he rolled to his back, swatted air, and let his arm fall, leaving it extended.

  A good thing Sabrina gave her long and sturdy ribbons. Within minutes, Alex had her husband bound, wrist and ankles to the bed, and what a picture he made.

  She climbed in beside him, giddy as a child at Christmas, with the most marvelous black brocade package before her, just waiting to be unwrapped.

  First, she untied the sash on his dressing gown. Next, she opened it, one side at a time, until the beauty of her husband was fully, finally, revealed to her.

  Except that beauty was not what she saw first. His wounds were, and they were hideous.

  Sorrow rose in Alex and she swallowed several hard times to overcome her need to weep for the pain he must have endured. His scars were formidable, wide, thick, ruddy. His left thigh was all one big knotted scar narrowing to a burst of long thin scars, as if the bayonet’s blade had gotten caught and must be thrust up and down to free it.

  A whimper escaped Alex as she bent to kiss the marked flesh, which must be sensitive, because Hawk moaned and tried to shift away. Alex panicked. She had barely begun, and if he woke, her seduction would be finished.

  As she watched, he calmed and remained sleeping.

  Alex sighed. No wonder he limped. ’Twas a wonder he was a man whole. And he was. She had seen and felt his magnificent manhood. Ah and he was beautiful there, too, even at rest, as was his chest, which she dared not as yet touch, and his face… and his soul.

  Alex examined everything at length, all his various and sundry man parts, the one that would become hard was soft as silk, the soft ones were squishy.

  She cupped his ballocks as she fingered his length, and just like that, the little devil came to life. Hawk sighed with her every stroke.

  He gasped and she jumped, then she fingered the sudden droplet that appeared and rubbed it over the tip, and Hawk moaned and grew two lengths on the instant.

  Ah yes, like a horse.

  She closed her hand around him, as he taught her in the bath, and she felt his ballocks firm and tighten, felt his entire torso start and stiffen.

  Prickles chased up her spine and along her nape and Alex looked up… and saw that he was watching her, his topaz eyes hard as flint, but bright as fire.

  Her heart tripped, while lust and fear fought for dominance. “Ah… now that I have it in my hand,” Alex said, “I do not know what to do with it.”

  Hawk tried to move and saw that he was bound, and the fire in his eyes leapt.

  Alex got scorched.

  “Mount me,” he said, growing impossibly larger, his voice deep and demanding. “Have your siren’s way with me. But do it now, by God. I have waited too bloody long as it is.”

  Her heart about to pound from her breast, Alex swung a leg over Hawk, but given his current size, mounting him seemed physically impossible. “I do not think it will fit.”

  “If you wish to take the lead, then do so, if you wish me to lead the way and make it easier for you, free me.”

  “No, you have been too skittish to follow through, and I will not go one more night untouched.”

  Hawk groaned and Alex saw that tic working in his cheek. He seemed actually to be suffering.

  “I am coming. I am coming,” she said.

  “So had I better be, and soon.”

  Alex giggled, but she nearly managed at the same time to fit him to her, except that. “Really, you are enormous. Is this normal?”

  He grinned. Hawksworth grinned. For the first time in years, she saw his smile.

  Alex grinned as well, so happy of a sudden, she could hardly bear it. “Prepare yourself,” she said. “Because this is going to be wonderful.”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  “Ouch. Drat.”

  “Wait. Do not hurt yourself.”

  “Can I do that?”

  Hawk sighed. “Release me so I can at least prepare you to receive me.”

  “Absolutely not. How would you prepare me?”

  “I would make certain you were… fluid.”

  “Wet, you mean? Oh, I am. Touching you always does that to me. It is a good thing then? I did not know.”

  “It is a good thing.” Hawk pulled against his fetters and cursed. “Set me free, so I can make you mine, once and for all, damn it.”

  “No. I will make you mine, instead.”

  “Be gentle with me.” That spark of mirth was back in his eyes.

  Oh how wonderful it was to see. “Ah,” she said, finding the right place for everything suddenly and impaling herself, ever so slowly upon him. “There, that did not hurt, did it?”

  Hawk hissed and bared his teeth.

  “It did hurt! Do you want me to stop?”

  “Good God, no!”

  “What should I do now?”

  “Push harder, I have not breached you yet.”

  “Can you not help?”

  Something akin to a groan and a pained laugh escaped Hawk as he arched and impaled her in one deep thrust.

  Alex screamed, but as the scream died, her shock turned to wonder, then joy, and she smiled, because… “You are all the way in. I am no longer a virgin! We should celebrate.”

  “Move from that spot and I will strangle you.”

  “Yes, Bryce. What would you have me do next?”

  “Ride me.”

  “Pardon?”

  Hawk used his hips and urged his wife to follow as he went, and when she did, and they began to move with more speed and greater unity, wonder struck, and she learned what men and women had known through the ages. Making love with the mate whose soul touches yours can be a most incredible experience.

  Halfway to heaven when she made the discovery, Alex continued to climb toward the firmament, her wonder growing apace with her pleasure, until Hawk called her name and she answered, and followed him up and over the precipice.

  She dozed astride him, her face against his chest, his arms around her, until the feel of him hardening inside her alerted her to her position and his growing need.

  Alex sat up, pushed the hair from her eyes, smiled, and they made love, again.

  “When you set me free,” Hawk said, “be prepared to spend a month on your back.” He thrust upward, and upward, prepared to love her in whatever position she wanted. In the tub or out. At Huntington Lodge or at the bottom of Devil’s Dyke—there was a thought.

  Thrice more she took him, or he took her, and thrice more they rode toward the stars, until Hawk was so desperate for the freedom to love her as he wished, that he all-out yanked at his tethers… and snapped a bedpost.

  Alex screeched as it came down.

  “Are you hurt? Alex?”

  She was not hurt, but laughing, laughing so hard that she could not catch her breath. And when he saw, and realized what they had done, Hawksworth began to laugh as well, full bodied and throaty. It was… not a bad feeling.

  That lump for his dead comrades still clogged his throat, but a yearning for life, for Alexandra, filled him as well, so he stepped from his bonds, the inner bonds of sorrow, first. Then, as he regarded his hysterical wife, he divested himself of the outward bonds of black satin, took her into hi
s arms and loved her again.

  This time Hawk led the loving, slow and easy, gentle and sweet. It was everything beautiful living could offer—touches, kisses and soft warm strokes. He was marking Alex as his, when he should not, God help him… for he could not help himself.

  Alex opened her eyes at about noon the following day and looked into the sultry, satisfied cat’s eyes of her lover.

  Hawk’s somber expression relaxed then and his eyes crinkled at the corners… and his lips… A smile she saw growing there. And tears filled her eyes, but good tears, of wonder and happiness.

  “I… missed you, Lexy. I missed you so much sometimes that I could have shouted for wanting you.”

  “Why did you take so long to say so? Why not make me yours?”

  “I did not want to chain you to a marriage with someone you did not love. I wanted to be able to set you free, if that was your wish. For your own good, I kept from you.”

  “For my own good? My good?”

  “Well not for mine. I have been aching to have you.”

  “You have been aching? What about me? What gives you the right to decide what is right for me, to make up rules in my name? Who do you think you are?”

  “Your husband.”

  “Oh, of course. And husbands have that right.”

  “They do.”

  “But you have decided that you might no longer be my husband. Then you would lose your right to make decisions in my name, correct?”

  “Correct,” he said, wavering, unsure of himself.

  “Fine. Then our marriage is dissolved in all but the signed documents. You have no more rights over me.”

  “Wrong. We can no longer annul the marriage. You are stuck with me.”

  “In that case, I want a bill of divorcement.”

  Hawk paled and panic infused his features. “Then you shall have it.”

  “Good. Now I may make my own decisions. Can you guess what I have decided?”

  “No, I cannot.”

  “Since you have no say in the matter, I have decided to take my former husband as my lover.” She mounted him, and Hawk offered no resistance, as a matter of fact, the look of panic left him and the color returned to his face.