The Appeal of an Elusive Viscount

by Hildie McQueen

  There was a serene lift to the corners of his lips. Although she wanted to seem unfazed, Clara couldn’t form anything close to a smile.

  What if he was about to hurt her in a way that was too horrible for words? Was that the reason mothers always cried at weddings and couldn’t share what would transpire? Instead, they offered words that didn’t quite encourage their daughters while at the same time not discouraging either.

  “Come.” William held out his hand. “How about we have a bit of brandy and discuss the day.”

  Glad for the reprieve, Clara scrambled from the bed, almost tripping on her nightgown. “I thought you said discussion wasn’t part of the night’s plan.”

  He handed her a small glass and watched on as she sipped. The warmth of the alcohol was heavenly as it slid down her throat.

  “We make the brandy at my family’s home. My great-grandfather always had an affinity for good brandy. He found out what was needed and we’ve continued to make it for many years.” She watched as he took a drink. Then he put the glass down and removed his coat and cravat.

  His darkened gaze met hers. “I know today wasn’t exactly the wedding you probably dreamed of. We can have a reception once we return to London,” he continued as he put the coat over the back of a chair. When he turned, his wide back took her attention. He was a large man, wide of shoulders and chest. Slender at the hips and, from what she could tell, his legs were muscular.

  “A reception would be wonderful. When do you think we’ll return to London?”

  They spoke of engagements they’d been invited to and which were best to attend. As he spoke, he drank his brandy and waited for her to also drink.

  When her glass was empty, he refilled it.

  Clara took a breath. “I will have to insist that I not remain in London. If you return to Lark’s Song, I will do so as well. I refused to be an abandoned wife.”

  “I think Mother was correct in stating you are the perfect match for me. Has there ever been a boring time when you or your sisters are involved?” He neared as he spoke, his gaze boring into hers. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them.

  She was fascinated at how her body warmed to his perusal, leaning forward of its own accord. When he leaned forward to press a slow kiss onto her mouth, her eyes closed of their own volition.

  No. She needed to be mindful of what he did. It would not do. Whatever magic he held over her must be due to him being her husband. That was something no one had warned her about either.

  “Oh, my,” Clara said, letting out a shuddering breath when his tongue trailed down the side of her neck. At the same time, his hands encircled her waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through her nightdress.

  “Clara, open your eyes.” His hoarse whisper startled her and her eyes popped open.

  He watched her and smiled. William had a beautiful smile. If she were the swooning type, Clara would be rendered unconscious at seeing it.

  “Kiss me,” he commanded. “Put your arms around my neck, press your body against mine and kiss me.”

  “Very well then. I have to put this down.” She turned away, drank the last bit of brandy and put the glass down on a small side table.

  William stood straight, his eyes on her. He was much too tall, so she had to lift to her tiptoes. Then she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. The second part was a bit scandalous, but she was determined to do everything perfectly. Her body fell against his and she gasped at how intimate it felt. For whatever reason, this was nothing like the other day when they’d kissed.

  He was solid, immobile and the sensation of her breasts against his chest was startling. His hard hips pressed into her and just under his stomach was hard and solid. Her eyes latched on to his lips. She wanted them tasting, nibbling and licking hers.

  However, he’d instructed she should be the one to kiss him. So she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down. Then she took his mouth with hers, pressing her lips against his and trailing soft kisses from one side to the other. William relaxed against her, his mouth softening, but he did not return her kiss.

  An idea struck. She sucked on his bottom lip and nibbled on it. His breath caught and she was delighted to have finally had an effect on him. Encouraged, she continued and then, ever so slowly, she pushed her tongue between his lips.

  His reaction made her giddy. His arms wrapped around her and he came to life, returning the kiss by suckling on her tongue with so much passion, she could’ve sworn it had to be what heaven would feel like.

  They continued kissing and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. Clara wanted to be nervous, but she wanted to keep kissing more.

  He leaned over her. “Don’t move.”

  Although he only took a step or two back, Clara wanted to whimper in protest. She couldn't draw her eyes away as he undressed. William didn’t seem to mind as he quickly dispatched his boots, shirt and pants. Then he was totally and utterly nude.

  “Is that how you’re going to sleep?” Clara focused on the member that stuck out from his body in the most interesting fashion.

  He nodded and moved closer. “And so are you.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.” He pulled her forward. “Lift your arms.”

  She did and he pulled her gown off.

  “Now, we’re both naked,” she pointed out the obvious, too interested in his body to notice he regarded her in return. “It’s cold. You should get under the blankets.”

  What she found most peculiar was how much she desired him to be under the blankets with her. She desired to touch his skin and press against it. Oh, goodness, this had to be part of the ritual. Then when she least expected it, the enduring would begin.

  However, he climbed on the bed without moving the coverings. He loomed over her. “I am going to make you mine now, Clara. Allow me to love you like no other.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t matter much as he covered her mouth with his and her ability to speak was utterly forgotten.

  When his hand slid over her skin, it left a trail of heat that fueled every inch of her. The intensity grew until she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

  The instant he took her, Clara cried out and wondered how it was possible for pain and passion to mix in such a way.

  William took her to heights that she could never describe until she gave up any hope of clinging to reality and fell into an abyss of stars and clouds.

  Her entire being became his as he showed her how lovemaking was accomplished. As much as she tried to keep her mind clear so that she could recite what happened later, all thought evaporated with every kiss.

  Each exclamation and sound was like a symphony. The final note was William’s hoarse cry when he finally reached his release.

  There was a strange heat surrounding him and William fought to open his eyes. Whatever it was did not bother him. Actually, it was soothing and somewhat alluring.

  Clara. His eyes flew open. It was the first time he’d spent an entire night with a woman. Normally, his sexual activity had been casual, with him leaving afterwards.

  His spirited bride was fast asleep, her breathing even. Head on her pillow facing him, her lips were pursed as if expecting to be kissed. Although he couldn’t see the rest of her, he’d done his best to touch every inch of her delectable body the night before.

  From the waist down she was pressed against him, one leg thrown across his thighs. It prevented him from sliding away without waking her and he wondered if the minx did it on purpose.

  He couldn’t help but smile. There really was no reason to get up he considered and allowed his eyes to close again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’s lovely to see you, dear,” Lady Barrow exclaimed, kissing Clara on both cheeks. They were at her family’s home. It was two weeks after being wed and Clara had been summoned for tea.

  It was close to Christmas and there was much planning to do if they were to have a holiday
gathering and wedding celebration.

  “I do think we should have it here,” Penelope said, her face bright at the fact she was included.

  “Nonsense,” her mother replied. “It’s much too small. We will pay for a ballroom.”

  “I insist it be held at my house,” Lady Barrow offered. “We can both be hostesses.”

  Her mother smiled widely, but then frowned at the knock on the front door. The butler hurried by. “Who could that be?”

  It was Glenda, Clara’s cousin and good friend. The young woman hurried in and stopped when she noticed Lady Barrow. “I’m so sorry. I came to see Clara. I hate to interrupt.”

  “Don’t be silly, darling.” Her mother motioned to a chair at the table next to Clara. “Sit.”

  Glenda’s green eyes were bright, a sure tell she had a juicy tidbit of gossip to impart. Penelope, Vivian and Clara exchanged looks, silently trying to come up with a plan to get away so they could speak privately.

  They knew Glenda would not say a thing in front of Lady Barrow.

  Their mother, however, knew Glenda well. “Go on, Glenda, please share what it is you’ve learned.”

  “It’s actually something a bit sad.”

  “Oh, no.” Clara took her cousin’s hand. “What is it? Is someone hurt?”

  Lady Barrow looked on with obvious worry. “Please go on.”

  Glenda gave Clara an apologetic look. “It seems Rachel Witting is dead.”

  The room was silent. Clara wasn’t sure what to say. The woman had no close friends as far as anyone knew. “What happened?”

  “She was found dead in her bed. My mother’s maid was at the bakery when she overheard someone come to get Mrs. Witting’s cook.”

  “That is horrible. To die alone.” Sarah shook her head.

  “If she was alone,” Penelope quipped and then covered her mouth with both hands.

  Other than a glare, her mother refrained from saying anything in return.

  “Should I remain and help?” Glenda offered, giving Clara a soft smile. “I’m so excited about your reception. It will almost make up for not inviting me to the wedding.”

  The mood in the room changed as everyone began to plan the elaborate event. Clara could not stop the excitement that bubbled inside her. Even the knowledge of the death would not keep her from enjoying the afternoon.

  “I have something to announce,” Vivian said, her tone a strange high pitch.

  Every eye turned to her and she smiled at them.

  “Did you eat something sour?” Penelope asked. “Your smile looks a bit strange.”

  “Oh, hush.” Clara tapped Penelope’s arm. “What is it, Vivian?”

  Her sister straightened. “I will be attending the wedding ball with Mr. Jameson as my escort.”

  Clara’s eyes popped wide while her mother and Lady Barrow both froze with teacups held midair.

  “Why?” Penelope was the first to find her voice. “He is plainer than a potato and has the personality of one.”

  “Goodness,” Lady Barrow exclaimed with a chuckle. “That is definitely a most appropriate description of the poor boy.”

  Vivian stood. “Because he is the only one that dared ask. The only man who made it past my most irritating constant guard.”

  “You should speak to Mr. Yarnsby,” Penelope stated with a stern nod. “If he is not going to court you, then he should not be in the way of you finding a suitable suitor.”

  Their mother held up a hand. “Now, let’s not be harsh. I’m sure Mr. Jameson is a fine young man. We should allow Vivian to make her own choice in this matter.”

  “I should go.” Glenda jumped to her feet, but then plopped back down when Clara’s mother yanked her by the arm.

  Sarah Humphries did not mind Glenda’s propensity for gossip except when it came to her family. “You will remain until the urge to repeat what was just said is gone. If anyone repeats that we think Mr. Jameson looks like a potato, I will personally pluck every hair from your head.”

  Glenda gasped and Clara had to take several deep breaths to keep from bursting out laughing.

  Finally, several hours later, every detail of the ball was planned. It would be at least a week before they’d have flowers, music and the menu completed, but as far as dates and such, it was all done.

  Lady Barrow and Clara’s mother were ecstatic at the prospect of planning the grandest ball of the season, while Clara was most interested in showing off her very handsome husband.

  Her father and cousin, Todd, arrived just as she was leaving and she was glad to see them both. Clara hugged both, noting that another carriage had just pulled up.

  “I believe that is Mr. Yarnsby,” Todd said in a flat tone. “He and I will be discussing a business proposition.”

  Clara narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”

  He lifted a brow. “Yes, that is so.”

  She turned to glance over her shoulder at Vivian who scowled at them. “Todd, what are you doing? Why would you have business with him?”

  Instead of a reply, Todd turned to look out the door. “Oh look, here he comes now.”

  Clara smiled at the handsome man when he entered. “Will you join us for dinner tonight, Alexander?”

  “I will be there,” he replied, his green eyes sparkling.

  “Very well.” Clara looked to her mother and Lady Barrow, who watched the interactions with unabashed enjoyment. Glenda was about to burst, but had yet to leave her seat. Now, with this new occurrence, she’d probably be there all night. She definitely took Clara’s mother’s threats very seriously.

  As Clara left her parents’ home, she couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face.

  “Where to, Lady Torrington?” the coachman asked.

  “Home, Samuel.”

  It was just at that moment that Clara realized her home was no longer where her parents lived, but where William was.

  The Torrington gala was the talk of London society. Anyone who was of note attended the soiree that evening. The Barrows’ grand ballroom was filled to capacity. Guests spilled over into the smaller parlors and out to the wide balconies. Every guest was there to pay their respects to Clara and William, ensuring to be in their good graces.

  Tones of the first waltz began and William, who looked splendid in head-to-toe black, led Clara, who wore a soft pink gown, to the center of the room.

  He bowed over her hand and she couldn’t help a blush as she lowered into a deep curtsy. The song commenced and as he twirled her across the gleaming floor, Clara’s skirts swooshed around her legs when he brought her around full circle.

  “I didn’t know so many would attend,” Clara said, her voice breathless. “They want to secure invites in the future from us or the Barrows.”

  William arched a brow. “I wonder how many will travel to Lark’s Song.”

  At his mention of the country estate, her stomach lurched. It would be Christmas in another week and, although she’d made plans for dinner at her parents’ home as well as hosting at the Torrington townhouse, they’d yet to speak about their plans for the New Year.

  If she were to be honest, she didn’t wish to ruin the holidays by pondering about it, so she’d not brought it up to William.

  However, this was too much of an opportunity to miss. She let out a sigh. “I suppose I can host a party or two at the townhouse and, come spring, I will ensure to host a large gathering so that my sisters can have a proper season.”

  “What about Lark’s Song?” he asked with a scowl.

  “First of all, no one will travel that far. And secondly, I can’t plan something there while living here.”

  “You’re not living here.” He guided her around another couple. “I want you with me.”

  Clara smiled broadly. “Is that so? Since when Viscount Torrington?”

  The way he flattened his lips, it appeared she was forcing food he didn’t like down his throat.

  “I wished for a wife that would do as she was told, bear me children
and remain in London so I could continue to live peacefully in the countryside. However, I find that now my wish has changed. I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

  Her breath caught. “How do you feel, William?”

  This time, his face softened and his warm gaze locked with hers. “As if I cannot breathe unless you’re with me.”

  “Oh.” She stepped on his foot and then stumbled as her legs turned to jelly. “Goodness, I’m so sorry.”

  “What did you wish for, Clara?” He spoke softly against her ear and then pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin just below it. Her husband knew her weakness. So she gave him a knowing look.

  “I wished for my sister, Vivian, to find a good husband. I never wished for much for myself until I met you. Now, I wish for you to be my dark prince forever.”

  There were gasps as he stopped dancing and took her mouth with his.

  As usual, everything disappeared until there was only him.

  Coming Soon - The Seduction of Mr. Yarnsby, Vivian and Alexander’s story. Follow me to keep abreast of new releases.

  Christmas Wishes

  Prologue - Christmas in the Duke’s Embrace

  Amanda Mariel

  USA Today Bestselling Author

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  Dorset England, 1812

  * * *

  Lady Marina Ellis took a cautious step toward her father’s desk being careful to keep her eyes downcast though her head was high. He’d not summonsed her here for a warm chat. No quite the opposite in fact. As it turned out, she’d created quite a mess of things and he no doubt intended to make her pay for her transgressions.

  She swallowed past the tightness in her throat as she drew nearer. She could not—would not allow nerves or regret to shine past her carefully steeled exterior. If she did, Father would destroy any dignity she still possessed. Drawing on every ounce of courage she possessed, Marina met his heated gaze. “Father.”