Claiming His Estranged Viscountess

by Lisa Torquay

  In front of his chamber, she turned to him as if to say goodnight. He did not give her the chance; did not give her time, incapable of it. He laced her narrow waist and glued her to him, opening his door. She whimpered in his mouth. He pressed her against the closed door, his body so hot and hard, he thought he would go up in the air like dynamite. Their kiss devoured, ravened, pounced, inflamed.

  He undressed her; she undressed him in addled movements, just focused on touching skin and heat. Finally, skin found skin, like never in their flawed marriage. He registered her body, more than he looked at it. Perfection, the very definition of perfection, igniting urgency, franticness. He carried her to bed and placed her on the fluffy mattress. He must slow down somehow. Must. Or everything would be finished in a second, for pity’s sake! She drove him to desperation.

  He made her flex her knees. He would give her due. What she deserved. Had always had. He lowered his head single-minded to her middle.

  Aurelia looked at him at a loss. What the blazes was he doing? She craved… And lost it. O-oh! His mouth –oh–on her–oh! His stubble lips caressing her most sensitive spot, drinking her juices, provoking, teasing. She arched back, holding his head there, out of her mind. So delicious! His tongue, his stubble, his lips; she would burst in a million pieces. He continued relentless, merciless. She saw more stars than in the night sky! She screamed, her hips seeking him, everything.

  His eyes looked at her from down there, charring, shining with the fireplace fire, hotter than it. She pulled him up, impatient.

  “More!” Was the only thing she blurted.

  A smug half smile on his handsome face. “Everything, my she-wolf!”

  He moved over her, to obey her, obey their indomitable hunger. Her legs surrounded him, coaxing him. In a second, he was in her, deep and complete as she sighed and moaned.

  Oh, he adored the way she claimed him, all woman and hunger; her aroused scent enticing. She was so tight! He grunted. Panted. Inside her, he came home, in full sense. His cock so hard, to splitting point. To surge in her, carnal pleasure mingling with other more confused emotions, pulling him, wrenching him, combusting him. His hardness entered her ever more frenetically, losing contact with reality. The universe was her inner flesh, sucking him, massaging him, sheltering him; bringing him to an unbearable state.

  He buried his face in her neck, going deeper and deeper, hearing her moans, building her tension, giving her what she craved. She dismantled before his very eyes, her channel squeezing him to maddening point, as her head turned on the pillow, a ragged cry leaving her delectable lips.

  Desire set free, he let it reign. He moved blindly, seeking pleasure like crazy. And found it. With such a wrenching intensity, he feared he would pass out. He grunted without an ounce of finesse, primal. He delivered all he had in waves of spurts that took him to another dimension entirely. He fell on her, incapable of moving. She cradled him embracing him. His body gave way; he stayed there for long minutes, savouring her, her warmth, her breathing, her receptiveness. Never had he been so… nurtured as at that precise moment. Eyes closed, he relished in her. He adjusted his weight to the mattress, but kept their bodies joined. He wanted not to leave her embrace. Ever! With that, slumber vanquished him.

  Aurelia awoke in the middle of the night with a sense of… completeness. Warmth surrounded her. Limbs entangled in an elaborate embrace, bed sheets and counterpane wrinkled around them. He held her in his sleep, on his belly, half over her, his mouth touching the curve of her neck, breathing goose bumps in her sensitive skin. She stayed there for a long time revelling in this unusual intimacy. Her blank eyes fixed on the bed’s canopy, she sighed, her mind peregrinating.

  She had never experienced this level of intimacy in those years. It became strange, and she did not know how to deal with it. She wished she had more information of how other married couples did it. But she did not, she would have to find the way herself. A sense of misplacement… contentment. She did not want to. Did not want to get used to it, to take it for granted. Then miss it, crave it, not have it. What good would it do?

  She had loved him so much! Only heartbreak came of it. Nothing else would come of it, with utter certainty. If she acquiesced herself to fall for him again, it would destroy her, this heart would be a barren place; she would lose all sentiment, hope. Life. She would not allow it to happen. Once almost dried her out. There should not be a second time.

  Trying not to wake him, she disentangled from him little by little. The bed was so cosy and inviting, his body so heavenly against hers. She nearly succumbed to her will to remain in it. The fire on the fireplace dying, giving the room an inviting glow. She put her legs out of his bed, out of his embrace. The little light made her see where her clothes lay scattered. She collected them and tiptoed to her chamber through the connecting door.

  Between her cold bed sheets, she endeavoured to get a modicum of sleep. She fell into a dormancy full of erotic images.

  Conrad awoke with a sated sensation he did not remember having ever had. His bedsheets wrinkled like a nest. Images of last night played in his mind, arousing him. He groaned and his arm moved looking for her, eyes still closed. His bed cold. He opened his dark lashes to daylight seeping through the worn-out curtains. She was nowhere to be seen. Loneliness descended onto him. He wanted her here, with him! He wanted her again. And again. Bloody hell!

  She evaded him once more. He would not earn her trust, would he? Her body, well her body became his last night. Oh, Last night! It had been the second time he had really enjoyed sex, in the full sense of it. He learned fast that sleeping with any woman might be completely different from sleeping with the woman he wanted, terribly. Satisfying the urges of the moment, as he had done his entire life, came to be an arid experience, divested of all its due importance. Unlike last night; he could call that being with a woman! Even though he wanted to have slept with her, the whole night, wake up by her side and–and renew the enjoyment.

  He threw the bed sheets over and jumped out of bed. It would be a waste of time to stay in it mulling over things he could not have. Better go help her and lighten her burdens.

  Chapter Seven

  Conrad rode to the fair where he knew she would be. He did not need to look long for her. As soon as he spotted a group of people, he saw her in the middle of it. She conversed and smiled at everyone, so sociable, he found it difficult to fit it with the withdrawn wife he dealt with at the manor.

  Today, she dressed a water-green day dress, not in the latest fashion, but pleasant all the same, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her bonnet shaded her perfect face. The amenable weather made for a cool temperature and a cool sun in between clouds. The light played with her features, resembling a Branwell Bronte’s portrait. He made a mental note to commission a portrait for her. Her beauty deserved no less.

  The fair itself stretched over the main street and beyond with several booths selling the most varied products from food to clothing, shoes and riding gear. Many people walked about in groups, pairs or alone.

  He tied his horse and approached the group. The ladies curtsied, the men nodded. He turned to her, eyes full of hidden messages; he bowed and kissed her hand in a slow caress. “Good morning, my Lady Strafford.” His voice sounding hoarser than he intended.

  His eyes on her brought back their steamy… exchange of last night and heat suffused her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to blink several times to shake the effect he had on her.

  Aurelia was dumbfounded with his arrival and his courteousness towards everybody. Talk about his never coming to the fair! Early morning alone in her bed had been no congenial task, by the way; she survived anyway. She left soon after breakfast in the hopes of keeping distant from him all day. It appeared he would allow her no such a thing.

  She curtsied. “Good day, my lord.” She tried for a bland smile, but it came out provocative and… evocative.

  The surrounding people watched the communication attentively. They had
told her he and she looked besotted last night. She cursed her behaviour then. She should have stayed home when she saw he intended to come. Miss the fun though? Never! He could go to blasted hell. Not to mention the way the night ended. A fiery wave crossed her body at the memory. A memory she could not stop replaying over and over again. It made her melt and crave. Yearn, like a blushing debutante! Damn him!

  “Isn’t it a beautiful idea?” The strident Lady Johnson was saying.

  Aurelia’s distraction with her husband made her lose the thread of the conversation. She looked around at a loss what to answer.

  “My Lady Johnson, we would be honoured to come for tea, doubtlessly!” Conrad came to her rescue.

  “Oh, certainly, Lady Johnson.” She amended hastily.

  “We are settled then.” Conrad again. “Now, if you allow me, I would like my wife to show me the novelties of the fair.”

  “Of course, my lord.” They agreed.

  He offered her his arm, leaving her with no other option than to follow him.

  “What are you doing here?” She demanded between her teeth after they distanced from the group.

  “You left my bed quite in a hurry, I should say.” To which a renewed wave of blasting heat assailed her. “I wanted to ask what the reason for it might be.” He smiled blandly, his eyes so intent on her shaded face she feared she might catch fire.

  “Why can’t you just keep to yourself?” Her anger a notch higher.

  “As far as I see, the fair is a public place.” He placed his hand over the gloved one of hers, causing a veritable gale in her guts. “I have the right to be here as much as you.”

  “Splendid. Now you can leave me and go your own way.” He looked down at her to find her bonnet on the way.

  “I beg to differ. My duty as your husband is to accompany and protect you.”

  “I’ve been doing fine in the last five years, wouldn’t you say?” She taunted him.

  To which she got no reply for someone abruptly interrupted them.

  “Conrad, my dear!” Mrs Somersby, the lawyer’s widow, extended her gauzy gloved hand coquettish to Conrad. “I heard you were back.” She smiled all too invitingly. Her ashen blond hair gathered up under her extravagant bonnet, which shadowed her pale, common blue eyes.

  “Mrs Somersby.” He bowed, taking her hand without eagerness by the fingertips.

  Conrad was not keen reacquainting himself with one of his old days’… relations.

  “Aurelia,” he turned to his wife. “Please meet an acquaintance of mine, Mrs Somersby. Mrs Somersby, Lady Strafford, my wife.”

  Both women tilted their heads, in a cold compliment. The widow turned to him at once, ignoring his Viscountess.

  She measured him from brow to toe appreciatively. “India did you good.” She mumbled ill disguising her intentions.

  “Time showed kindness to you as well, Mrs Somersby.” He complimented with icy politeness. In fact, he just wanted to walk away and continue bantering with his wife.

  “So gallant of you, Conrad.” She placed her hand on his arm casually.

  He bowed, so he could subtly move away from her. “We take our leave, Mrs Somersby. My wife is about to show me around the fair.”

  “Naturally.” She looked disdainfully at Aurelia, which angered him quite intensely. “You should come for dinner one of these evenings.” Her greedy eyes focused on his lips, causing him aversion.

  He smiled faintly. “I don’t think so. Have a nice day.” He tipped his hat and walked past her, without seeing her irritated expression.

  Aurelia began to fume! Besides having to endure her husband’s intromission in her visit to the fair, she must tolerate this woman! She remembered the woman by name–and reputation. The last preceded her by miles. The widow of a wealthy lawyer for a long time, she did not have prejudices when it came to paramours. Married, single, old, young. Clearly, she also wanted to include her husband in her list. This infuriated her to sky-high levels.

  From then on, the fair lost most of its enchantment to her. She entertained herself with the booths and new products, no doubt, but her mood changed. For the worse. She tried to forget the incident. The burning in her guts, though, proved impossible to overlook.

  Conrad accompanied her during her whole visit, buying her things and stopping to talk with people who came to greet her. It advanced to late afternoon when they returned to the manor. He with his horse and she with the carriage. Alone inside it gave her a little breathing room to try to abate the burning in her chest.

  Upon their arrival, a spring rain began to pour over the fields, rendering the horizon whitish with the sheets of water. The weather seemed to be following her turmoil.

  Dinner finished, Aurelia sat in the drawing room to do some mending. On the table beside her a tea tray. Dinner with her husband had been a silent affair. She had not been able to abate her bubbling rage after all. She did not even glance at him for fear of losing control.

  In the act of seeping her tea, he came into the room. Her fingers grasped the china so tightly it would splinter at any second. Hastily, she placed it on its saucer before she gave herself away.

  He sat on the armchair next to hers, pouring himself another cup of tea. The candle lights illuminated the room in reddish glows, yielding a domestic atmosphere. They highlighted his tanned skin and made his hair blacker than black. His strong body sat back, and he seemed utterly concentrated on his tea. She lowered her gaze quickly, lest he noticed her appreciation of him, despite everything.

  “Don’t your parents attend the fair anymore?” He inquired as a means of conversation.

  Her rosewood eyes snapped up with the unexpected question. “They seldom leave the manor after my father broke his leg on a hunting party.” She struggled to keep her tone even.

  Conrad arched his brow, curious. “I didn’t know it.” His dark eyes direct on her, which stirred her unavoidably.

  “Yes. It happened last autumn.” Head bent, she focused on the mending. “He hasn’t recovered fully and feels a lot of pain.” She stabbed the needle in the cloth. “Which makes them stay home most of the time.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.” He sympathised. “Maybe a doctor from London would help?”

  She lifted her head again, to find him with a worried expression on his handsome face. It surprised her to see he cared.

  The Baron and Baroness of Middleton did not abound in wealth. “I wish they could afford it.” She said candidly.

  “If they cannot, we can.” He declared without hesitation. “I will write a letter to an acquaintance of mine from the East Indian Company first thing in the morrow.” He volunteered, surprising her further.

  “Thank you.” She said, going back to her mending.

  His concern turned her into a cauldron of tattered emotions. He had been doing the most unexpected things lately. Not that the fury from this afternoon had dowsed. That being the worst, mingling her senses even more.

  The discomfort inside and the tension his presence drew her to convinced her the time grew late. Late for a retreat, she thought cowardly. Sewing back to the basket, she stood to leave.

  “The hour grows late.” He stood immediately for politeness. “Good night.”

  He bowed to her in reply, as she passed him towards the door.

  In her bedchamber, she dismissed Abigail as soon as the girl finished unbuttoning her dress. The poor lady’s maid seemed exhausted with the rambling around the manor to accompany her.

  In front of the mirror with her mended shift, the connecting door opened. She jerked abruptly at it, as Conrad stepped in, attired in his foreign tunic and trousers which rendered him so attractive, she almost forgot herself. A turn to him stonily, trying hard to tamp down his effect on her.

  “What now?” When it came to him, her wits vanished with her verbal skills.

  His sensuous lopsided smile did not help her composure. “I would say it rather obvious.”

  “Ha! Come to slake your lust, haven’t you?” She
said acidly, hands flying to her waist.

  “And yours, I dare say.” He strode confident to her, stopping inches from her feet, his spicy scent invading her peace of mind.

  She burned. Burned from the afternoon events, burned for this pull he had over her, her feelings scattered all over the place.

  “How dare you?” She fumed now. The idea of him and another woman chocked her!

  “I am your husband.” His silky statement only superficial. “I have rights.”

  “Rights?” Her voice dripping fury. “Who are you to bring up rights?”

  He raised one brow, sardonic. “Your husband, to whom you promised an heir.”

  “You scoundrel!” She spat livid. “You can go find your mistress!” He had not been able even to keep a mistress before now. His erratic behaviour afforded only passing… diversions, she suspected.

  His eyes hardened at this. “I do not have a mistress!” He murmured hotly. “Nor will I ever have one!” He faced her head on as she launched him a suspicious expression.

  “You know why?” He continued, lowering his dark eyes to his middle; she followed and blushed crimson at the sight of his erection tenting his loose trousers. “Because I want solely you!”

  The evidence of his desire, mingled with her rage and want, heated her to unbearable levels. Blindly, she approached him and punched him on his solid chest. “Damn you!” As if it would relieve her of her pressing emotions.

  Delicately, he held her arms, pulling her to him. “I say I want you and you curse me?” His voice husky, seductive. His eyes intent down on hers.

  She ogled him, face lifted defiantly. “You are a curse in my life!” She vented openly.

  He bent his head, his lips on her slender neck. “Yes. Yes I am.” He murmured against her sensitive skin.