Rogues and Ripped Bodices

by Samantha Holt

  She stood on tiptoes and swept her lips over his. He kissed her back, firmly, briefly, before drawing back. “Will you not open a gift?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, why not?”

  “Any one in particular?”

  “How about this one?” He bent and plucked up a small flat one.

  Emma settled on the chaise and he came to sit by her as she drew open the string to reveal a small box and inside a heart-shaped locket. “Alexander, it’s beautiful.” She opened it to find their portraits in it, side by side. Tears stung her eyes. She had not realised until now how much she wanted this, how much she wanted them to be husband and wife in every sense of the word.

  “You like it?”

  She heard the uncertainty in his voice and cupped his face so she could press a kiss to his cheek. “I do, it’s wonderful. Will you put it on for me?”

  He took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. “I was not sure if you would,” he admitted quietly. “It seemed a rather bold gift at the time and I had thought of keeping it to myself, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “Me too.” She fingered the gold heart and pressed it to her chest. “I shall treasure it.” Feeling emboldened by his gift and his words, and even the risk he had taken buying such a gift when their marriage had been so uncertain, she took his hand. Emma let a smile tease her lips as she took in the sight of her handsome duke. His broad shoulders begged her to sweep her hands over them, that dip in his chin called to her fingers to play over it. She longed to kiss each inch of that jaw and run her fingers through his golden hair. “Will you not come and unwrap your gift?”

  A crease appeared between his brow. “I thought you said I only had one, and I don’t see it here.”

  “It’s not here.” She lowered her voice and prayed she didn’t seem a fool. “It is in my bedroom.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex swallowed as they stood outside her bedroom. This was it. She did mean for him to unwrap her, did she not? Or else he’d look a damned fool and be mightily disappointed when she led him into her room and handed him a present.

  Relief still ran through him that she had liked his gift. He had picked it up in Paris and had the portraits put in it in London. At the time he had thought it might do good to remind her of to whom she was married, but he had tucked it away realising he had bitter motives behind the gift. However, after earlier, he knew he wanted to give it to her for the right reasons. A symbol of their... love? Perhaps. He half suspected if they had not been brought together by their families’ and societies’ expectations he might have fallen in love with her that first night. She had been radiantly beautiful but he had ignored that fact, being too laden down with expectations and duty.

  Emma offered him a secretive smile and opened her bedroom door. With only the fire lit, the room was mostly cast in shadow. He regretted he wouldn’t see her properly but it added a romantic feel to it and if he had learned anything from the men of the Alpine Club, it was that women loved romance. Besides, he could always draw open the curtains in the morning and make love to her then.

  He pressed the door shut with his foot and paused to take in the sight of her. He had been remembering her in her under-things all day, particularly during dinner. Alex had suffered for much of that meal but found himself enjoying her company very much. It seemed they had conquered everything with the exception of the bedroom. They were able to enjoy each other’s company and even talk quite openly. The marriage bed would be their true test.

  His heart hammered and sweat pricked on the back of his neck. He fought the need to swipe a hand across his brow. Emma’s throat worked and he noted the flicker of apprehension in her gaze. Her bold move must have daunted her too, but she had shown great courage. Courage, he could well admire.

  Inwardly he chided himself. Show him a mountain and he would climb it. Give him a beautiful, willing woman and he turned into a nervous whelp of a man.

  “Come here,” he said huskily.

  Emma stepped forwards and he took her into his arms. Her fingers looped about his neck and her lips immediately found his. Her eagerness made him smile and dampened some of the nerves. He took his time kissing her, learning the taste and feel of her mouth. Running his hands up and down her back, he couldn’t resist rocking into her, though her skirts gave him little relief. He needed to be pressed against that soft body.

  She began to tug at his necktie and he released her body to help. The room was remarkably hot and he wanted to feel her fingers on him. Once he had flung that aside, he slipped off his jacket, all the while kissing her with clumsy, desperate kisses. Next came his waistcoat and then she started to work on his shirt. If he had any doubts about her lack of experience with men, they were now erased. Her fingers were awkward and she struggled to undo the small buttons. There was no chance she was practiced at this.

  Spreading apart his shirt, she laid her hands on his chest and he hissed. Her eyes widened and she went to draw them away but he captured her hands with his own. “Don’t,” he begged. He needed her touch so badly.

  She used her hands to smooth across his chest and down his stomach, tracing him with fascination. Desire and gratitude mingled in his gut. She had no lover. She only had him. He would be her lover. Properly, truly. Nothing could hold them back now.

  Except that she was frittering away his money. But he would deal with that later. A few misspent pennies were hardly on par with having a secret lover.

  He drew out his shirt from his trousers and undid his cufflinks before she helped him remove his shirt. Her parted lips and shining eyes were almost the undoing of him. Emma looked at him as though he was the only man in the world. It humbled him.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he drew her close and her lips tickled a trail across his chest. Her floral fragrance surrounded him and he drew it in. How had he gone so long without her?

  “You taste salty,” she murmured. “I like it.”

  He groaned. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? In that gown, probably not. He needed to get it off her as fast as possible so she could know.

  Thrusting her back, he turned her, making her squeal. Before, he might have worried he’d frightened her or he had done something wrong, but the molten lust in his veins dampened any doubts and when he pressed his mouth to the back of her neck and felt an almost imperceptible shudder and heard her gasps, he knew nothing could be wrong between them.

  Alex set to work on her complex gown, his mouth pressing against the top of her neck. He let his lips linger there while he finished undoing her dress. Leaving it on her hips, he began to unlace her corset, feeling more confident now he had dealt with this contraption several times.

  With that loose, he pushed down her undergarments to reveal one soft shoulder. Her skin was cast in golden perfection with the light of the fire dancing over it. He kissed a path along it to her neck, revelling in the way she tilted her head to give him better access.

  Emma began to wriggle impatiently, and he realised she was trying to free herself from her gown. Apparently, he was not the only impatient one. He helped her remove it and heard her relieved, “Oh yes,” that made him smile.

  Her bottom pressed against her drawers, the firm outline visible against the cotton. He smoothed both palms down them and cupped her rear, drawing a startled gasp from her. He could become quite obsessed with that beautiful rear, he decided, taking the time to squeeze lightly. Then he shifted his hands around to her hips to press her against him.

  She moaned. His quiet, innocent wife moaned at the feeling of his cock pressed against her bottom. Lord almighty, what had he been thinking running away when he could have been enjoying this?

  He ran his hands up her body to cup her breasts and chuckled when he found her hands tugging at her corset. He took pity on her and helped her draw it off. Now only a thin layer of cotton sat between him and his prize.

  That warm, supple body pressed into him as he explored every part of her with his fingers. He f
ound she liked her nipples gently plucked and teased, and when he dipped his hands lower and slipped them under her drawers, she rocked into his erection.

  Alex found her hot and wet for him. He didn’t remember her being like this at all on their first night together or even the nights after. She had been stiff and quiet. Now she was moaning and gasping and rolling her hips. He let his finger skim between her folds several times, finding a spot that made her shudder and loll her head back against him.

  Then he tried rubbing in circles while kissing her neck and she jerked against him and ground into his finger. “Oh, Alexander, that feels so good...”

  Well, at least he knew he was doing it right. He continued, savouring each breathy cry, changing the motion with each of her reactions until it seemed everything he did created pleasure. She brought her hands up to clutch his upper arms and dug her nails into him but she would have to tear him to pieces before he stopped. He was determined. She was the mountain and he would conquer her.

  It happened suddenly. Her whole body went stiff against his and then gave way. A great cracking sound thundered through the room while she trembled and released a long breath. Before Alex had a chance to register what the noise was, a great deluge of snow and plaster swamped the bedroom. Emma screamed as he dragged her back and twisted to cover her body. They slammed to the floor and he turned his head to view the damage. Dust and snow swirled in the air and a cold breeze blew through the room.

  Emma lifted her head, looking dazed. “What...?”

  Alex pressed away from her and drew her to her feet. “Bloody hell, the roof just collapsed.”

  She peered around him, clutched his arm and surveyed the mess. It had missed her bed and hadn’t even reached near where they had been standing but it was a good amount of roof that had come down. He stepped forwards, forcing Emma to release his arm, and peered at the whole in the ceiling.

  “There must have been snow in the attic. There’s a hole in the roof, I suspect. The weight was too much.”

  “Alexander, be careful.”

  Snow and fragments of ceiling caked her dressing table and the carpet. He shoved the larger pieces aside to have another look. The hole itself was not huge but would take a bit of work to fix.

  “Damnation.” He turned and eyed her barely clothed state. Picking up her robe and shaking it off, he chucked it to her. The servants would no doubt be along after hearing that racket and he would not have them seeing her half-dressed.

  Frustration burned through him. Would he ever get to bed his wife? It was beginning to look very unlikely.

  “You really should have budgeted for the roof,” he said gruffly as he stepped out of the room and drew her away, aware they could do nothing until the morning.

  She clutched her robe about her and scowled at him. “I tried my best. I didn’t know there was a hole in the roof.”

  “Which is why you send someone up there to maintain it. This never would have happened if you had not been wasting money. I can’t fathom what you could possibly be spending so much money on but if it is fine gowns and... and bonnets or something, I shall tell you now, I won’t allow it any longer.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She took a few steps back from him. That dash of fear that so often haunted her expression was back and if he had been less frustrated, he might have managed to school his emotions, but he couldn’t. Damn it, all he wanted was a night with his wife of nearly one year. Was that so much to ask?

  “It has not been easy with you gone. You don’t know what I have had to deal with, what obligations—”

  “You are obligated to ensure my estate is run well. As a duchess, no less is expected from you. Instead, I return to find half my money frittered away, my castle crumbling and most of my staff gone.” He pushed a hand through his hair.

  Her bottom lip trembled and he waited for her to retreat, but instead she straightened her shoulders. “Had you not left and had you helped me understand the running of your estate better, I might have been better able to fulfil my role. But I had other obligations too.”

  “A lover perhaps?” he sneered. Even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The idea of a lover had been born of his own inadequacy. Since yesterday, he hadn’t for one moment truly believed that. But still, he needed the reassurance.

  “No, how dare you? I don’t know what you have been doing this past year, but I would never dream of such a thing.” Her breasts heaved against her robe and he saw two dark spots of colour on her cheeks. Emma glanced at the remnants of her room as a sudden gust sent a whirl of wind and snow around them both. “I will not stand here and be insulted. I shall sleep in the blue room. Good night, Your Grace.”

  Alex cursed under his breath but didn’t beg her to return. He watched her stalk off to the guest bedroom and forced himself to uncurl his fists. What a fine mess he’d made of everything. Had he ruined any chance of happiness between them or was there still a possibility he could make up for his foolish words? He waited at the top of the stairs for the servants to ascend when he heard a flurry of activity down below. No doubt the sound had awoken them.

  He would have to do something for her, he realised. Something to prove how much he cared for her. Maybe even loved her. He had been selfish in his actions, while she had been utterly selfless, remaining here and running things for him. Why, she could have gone to London or stayed with her mother, but instead she chose to stay in the wilds of Scotland and try to learn how to manage an estate. Was it her fault her husband was so childish he would not even brave being honest with her?

  It was not. And so he had quite the task ahead of him to prove to her he wasn’t that selfish man anymore. He only hoped he was not too late.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took Emma at least an hour of lying in the dark in the blue room to control her breathing and rid herself of the angry fire burning in her belly. When it had left her, it also left her cold. The fire hadn’t been lit in the guest room—another money-saving scheme. She braved slipping out of the cold covers to retrieve a blanket from the coffer at the end of the four-poster bed and draped it over herself. Still, she shuddered.

  Why had she lost her temper with him? Why had she not tried to explain? She had intended to before they slipped into bed, but it never quite seemed the right moment. Alexander stole all reasonable thought from her with his touches and kisses. Would he understand or would he be angry with her still? She was a fool but what was she to do? Abandon Geoffrey to the world? He had nothing and no one. Should children suffer for the sins of their parents?

  She did not believe so for one moment, but how was she to continue supporting him? Now she was under Alexander’s watch, she could not, and she refused to lie to him any longer. But what would Geoffrey do? Well-paid work was not easily come by for a man with no education, though she knew her brother had tried hard to better himself. She wished her father had not been so selfish and such a coward. He should have claimed Geoffrey and helped him. It seemed so unfair Geoffrey should be struggling while she lived in relative luxury.

  In the morning, she would tell Alexander all. Let him be angry with her, if he would. Emma tossed onto her side and fought the cold dread in her stomach while bunching the blankets up around her neck. Perhaps he would decide to leave her again and take out his annoyance on the mountains once more. After all, a man like Alexander was not designed to sit around and play lord. He had trusted her to look after his responsibilities and she had failed. That failure sat like a bitter lump of coal in her stomach.

  She’d failed him and she’d failed to create a good marriage. Would she ever get anything right? Tears burned her eyes and she swiped them away before burying her head under the blankets and letting the stuffy warmth envelop her. Perhaps she wouldn’t. It looked as though her lack of courage had even destroyed any chance at a good marriage. Oh, how she loathed herself.

  ***

  Emma forced herself out of bed at her usual early hour. Regardless of what had happened the previous nigh
t, it was still Christmas Day and she would not let all the cook’s preparations go to waste. Not to mention they needed to at least tidy her bedroom and try to cover the hole in the roof. The hope that she might be returning to Alexander’s room soon had burned bright—she never did enjoy sleeping alone—but that looked to be ruined now, so she needed to move some of her belongings into the guest room.

  She rang for a maid and was grateful to be brought a cup of tea. She sipped the warm liquid and felt it flow through her and revive her. Tea was indeed the cure for much, she thought. Why men insisted on turning to strong spirits when a cup of tea did a much better job, she would never understand.

  The maid chattered away, talking about the large meal Hannah had prepared for the servants and how she was looking forward to it. Once she and Alexander’s meal had been served, several of the staff intended to trek through the snow to visit relatives in the village. The maid’s excitement made Emma smile in spite of herself. How lucky the girl was to have a family who was desperate to see her. Emma’s own mother was more interested in social pursuits and Alexander’s family had intended to come more out of obligation than a desire to see their son and daughter-in-law.

  She had meant to ask the maid about the state of her bedroom, but by the time the maid had finished curling Emma’s hair and placed some festive green and red ribbons in it, she had forgotten that intention, such was her inability to get a word in edgeways.

  Dressed in an elegant pale green gown, Emma admired her reflection in the mirror. She smoothed out the ruffles that enhanced the low neckline and skimmed her shoulders. It was a rather grand gown for the daytime but it was Christmas after all, and she wanted to look her best for Alexander. Perhaps if she looked beautiful, he wouldn’t be so angry with her for giving away his money, though would he accuse her of frittering away his money again?

  Emma had never been one to use her looks—she hardly knew how—but Alexander seemed to be very attracted to her. If he wanted her anything like she wanted him, maybe there would be a chance she could persuade him she was worth staying for. She chewed her bottom lip and prayed for courage while her heart hammered against her bodice.