His Hand-Me-Down Countess: The Lustful Lords, Book 1

by Sorcha Mowbray

  Her frame shook with despair. Clearly, the man was disgusted by her comportment. She knew her mother had said she was to lie there and let him conduct his business, but once he’d placed that intimate kiss—the very one that had her cheeks heating in remembrance—she’d assumed something more along the lines of their previous encounter was amenable.

  Now, he’d disappeared.

  She moved to stand up, but the sounds of muffled footsteps caused her head to jerk up. There in the doorway, her husband had stopped. He held a basin in his hands. “Theo, lie back down, please.”

  The words were pleasant enough, but there was no ignoring the command in his tone. He expected her to obey, and by God, she wanted to. But her pride refused to allow her to meekly lie back down. “Stonemere”—he winced at his name; that couldn’t be good—“I-I wanted to apologize for before. For my unseemly behavior.” Despite her location at least twenty paces from the fireplace, her face heated as though she stood only an arm’s length from the flames.

  He grunted at her. What the devil was she to make of that?

  Then he moved forward and closed the distance between them. He pushed her, a gentle nudge, really, back onto the mattress. “I haven’t the faintest notion what you are apologizing for. Now lie back.”

  She did as he instructed and returned to the position of lying on the bed with her legs dangling. She huffed, “Must I spell it out?”

  “I’m afraid you must.” He set the basin on the bed and picked up a length of cloth that appeared to be soaked.

  Did her eyes deceive her? Were his lips twitching? “I was trying to tell you that if my wanton display at all offended you, I shall endeavor to restrain myself in the future. My mother warned me that men appreciate being in control of such activities, and that my job was simply to allow you unfettered access.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and turned her head to studiously examine the coverlet and sham.

  The blasted man laughed openly.

  Her hands clenched into fists as her mortification was made complete. He found her laughable. Bloody fantastic.

  “Well, I’d say your mother has the half of it right.”

  Something wet dragged between her legs, which brought her head around to see what he was doing. When she spotted the wet rag between her thighs, she slammed them shut. Or she would have, had her husband not been strategically placed between them.

  “Men do tend to like to be in control, or at least I certainly lean in that direction. But your level of participation was not at issue. Had you lain there like a dead fish, I would have been displeased at the very least.”

  “Truly?” She quit trying to close her legs and focused on her husband’s face. He didn’t often give away much, except when she focused on his eyes. His eyes seemed to tell the story more thoroughly than his face alone ever could.

  At the moment, his green eyes sparkled with a sincerity she could not question. He was not appalled by her immodest behavior.

  “Truly. Now, into the bed with you.” He swatted her thigh in encouragement.

  Theo sat up sharply and stared at him for a moment. Unease glittered in his gaze, as though he had relaxed too much and allowed himself to act in a way that was somehow wrong. Theo scooted to the top of the bed and tried to focus on her husband’s odd reaction instead of the warm tingling that shot from her thigh to her molten core. She refused to connect her body’s reignited desire with the swat her husband had given her. That would be unconscionable.

  Still nude, Stone took the basin away and came back to the bed. As he crossed the room, she took in the play of muscles in his thighs and his torso as they rippled beneath his skin. He was a fine specimen of a man, though she had nothing but Greek statuary with which to compare him. To the delight of her curious mind, she noted his cock had grown significantly smaller than his previous display, and she wondered how that worked. But then he slipped in beside her and made no move to hold her. Instead, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

  Still unsure of herself, as well as the whole experience, Theo curled up on her side away from him and tried to shut down her flare of desire.

  “Come here, Theo.” He reached out and pulled her up against his chest. The heat that seeped from his body into hers was a comfort that she desperately needed at that moment. His hands slipped around her from behind, one curved over her belly and the other cupping one of her breasts. The intimate touch assured her that all was right and well between them.

  “Good night, Stonemere.”

  “Good night, for now, Theo.”

  She puzzled over his odd comment as she drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  Mary woke her bearing a tray piled high with rolls and even scones, as well as a pot of chocolate. Looking at the bed next to her, she realized Stone—she liked calling him that, even if only in her head—had slipped out sometime in the night. Well, eventually she might convince him to stay with her until the morning. A yawn escaped, reminding her that she had not slept the night through. Sometime in the dark of night, or perhaps it had been early morning, her husband had rolled over and awoken her with his touch. Soon after, he slid deep inside her again, and as promised, there had been no initial pain. It was all pleasure.

  An optimism born of the night’s activities helped her typically sour morning disposition. Content, she sat up and allowed Mary to place the tray in her lap. That was when she noticed a note bearing a masculine scrawl. She snatched it up and read the note from her husband. He apologized for his absence, but he had an errand to run before they left for the country. He assured her he would be ready to depart by noon, as planned.

  A glance at the clock showed Theo she only had a few hours to eat and then finish the last-minute details before they departed. She refused to be anything less than punctual. Setting his note aside, she addressed her breakfast.

  * * *

  Evening settled like a blanket over the landscape, obscuring the countryside from her view. He’d given her a choice—they could take the coach and spend a day and a half with stops to travel to his estate just outside of Southampton, or they could take the train to Southampton and have a coach pick them up for a two-hour ride to Stonemere Abbey.

  The notion of riding on a train so enchanted her, she’d easily agreed to the shorter travel time. As their coach pulled up to the abbey, Theo was amazed by the beauty of the fully lit home. Through her sleepy-eyed wonder, the huge building glowed in the moonlight, a hodgepodge of architectural details that portrayed the building’s history. The crenelated ramparts delighted her as their carriage rounded the drive and pulled to a stop.

  “Are you ready to meet the staff?” Stone queried as they arrived.

  “I think so.” She yawned, then clapped her mouth shut in surprise. “Perhaps I am more fatigued than I realized.”

  “Travel will do that to you.”

  “As will a lack of sleep.” She blinked away the treacle-like sluggishness, pinched her cheeks, and sat up straight. Stone alighted from the coach before he reached out to help her down. Then they ascended the front stairs of the abbey, where some of the staff waited to greet the new lady of the house. “I wrote ahead and delayed the formal household greeting until tomorrow morning. I limited tonight to the core staff members: the housekeeper, Mrs. Hedley, the butler, Mr. Bentley, and of course the stable master, Mr. Hedley.”

  Theo went down the line and greeted each of them, hoping to convey warmth and strength. She believed in being even-handed with servants—though not overly familiar—yet also not so remote that she would need to worry about theft or betrayal. She assumed her husband paid well, which in the end was the most important factor in claiming a servant’s loyalty.

  Stone stood by her side, his hand against the small of her back imbuing her with warmth and an extra boost of confidence to carry herself as the lady of the house. Upon greeting the servants, they were led upstairs by Mrs. Hedley to their suite of rooms.

  The gray-haired housekeeper left her and Mary to get set
tled. Once organized, Mary called for two upstairs maids to assist with the unpacking that was required, while Theo wandered downstairs to find the library. She explored a bit until she spotted a light limning a cracked door. Perhaps her husband had a similar idea. She went to the door and knocked.

  * * *

  Stone bid the unknown person at the door to enter. It was likely Mrs. Hedley checking on him in the wake of their arrival. To his surprise, it was his wife who appeared.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for the library. I thought I might search out a book while Mary sees to the unpacking.”

  “Do come in. I was doing much the same. My valet, Evers, seems generally happier when I am out from underfoot.”

  Theo flashed him a seductive little smile, though it was an artless one. “Funny how we feel like recalcitrant children at times. Mary and Evers are far more capable of unpacking without our direction than if we stayed and attempted to supervise.”

  Stone smiled and swirled the brandy in his snifter. That hadn’t been the only reason he’d slipped away. He grappled with his desire to bed his wife—again. Could he survive another encounter with her and not lose control of his tightly leashed urges? The swat on her thigh the night before had been an unconscious gesture that reminded him how close to the edge he danced.

  The heat that blanketed his palm from the soft slap had him itching for more. He’d wanted to paddle her bottom until it was bright pink, and then fuck her until she acknowledged to whom she belonged. Who her master was.

  He gulped the warm liquor down and set the empty glass on the desk. “It is a rather startling realization that one can be so superfluous. I am glad you found me. I wanted to speak with you, and while I had thought I might do so later, I am not sure you will be up to a visit from your husband so soon.”

  Theo flinched, a fleeting movement before her composure returned. “I am happy to speak to you now. However, you should not alter your plans for a visit later on my account.”

  A satisfied warmth curled in his belly as he nodded. She was so naturally submissive. So willing to please. “Very well, then. In the meantime, I wanted to give you this.”

  He set a long velvet jewelry box on the desk next to his brandy glass and slid it across to her. Her lips parted as she tracked the gliding motion. “A gift? For me?”

  “Yes. Who else shall I bestow such things on if not my wife?” Satisfaction morphed into coals of desire carefully banked since he’d left her bed that morning.

  “But I do not have a gift for you.” Theo bit her lower lip while her brow creased. It made Stone wish he could nibble it for her.

  “It was an impulse I chose not to quell. Open it.”

  She lifted the box and pried open the lid. Her eyes sparkled in a display that shamed the jewels nestled inside. She lifted the strand of perfectly matched sapphires and held them up to the light. “Stonemere. They’re beautiful, but it’s too much. Where would I wear them?”

  Foolish girl that she was, she couldn’t imagine where she’d wear them, while he couldn’t imagine where she shouldn’t. “I daresay you could wear them to any number of balls. They’d be stunning in the sunlight as you shop on Bond Street, and you’d look magnificent in nothing but those while you graced my bed.”

  The flush that tinted her cheeks pleased him as much as her delight in the necklace. If he had his way, she’d wear them everywhere as a kind of mark that she belonged to him. Nothing stated that a woman was unavailable as clearly as an expensive bauble encircling her neck.

  It was a stamp of ownership that he desperately wanted on her body. If he could, he’d lock the thing in place so that she could never remove it.

  This possessiveness, his need to have a symbol of his mastery on her person, echoed how he’d felt about each woman previously under his care. But he could not deny there was an intensity this time he’d not experienced before. Of course, his pet had never been his wife, either. Nor, technically, was she now. He hadn’t claimed her as truly his, and he did not suspect he ever would in any way that satisfied his sexual hunger. He doubted his pretty wife would appreciate how he wanted to strap her to his bed and demand she acknowledge him as her lord and master in the most primeval of ways.

  “Stone…” She flushed even brighter. “Stonemere, you shouldn’t say such things.”

  “Stone. I like when you call me that.” Perhaps because that is what he became in her presence? Hard as stone. Every time. Without fail. The trip to Stonemere Abbey had been devilishly uncomfortable.

  “Have I called you that?” She looked up, and he could see the little furrow in her brow that appeared when she concentrated.

  “At least half a dozen times last night.” He grinned. Teasing her was almost as enjoyable as bedding her, but none of it would compare to owning her. Double damn. He had to stop this perilous train of thought.

  She turned crimson as she sputtered. “I-I… Really! Stonemere, you must not torment me like that. It is unkind of you.”

  “If you promise to call me Stone, then I promise not to tease you so unabashedly.”

  “Very well. Thank you for the lovely gift.” She walked over and placed a gentle kiss on the outer corner of his mouth. Before he could react, she pulled away and floated toward the door, clutching the necklace. “I should go see to Mary. I am sure all should be put away by now.” She turned to leave, hesitated, and turned back. “I shall see you later?”

  It was more a question than a statement, but Stone knew the answer. “Undoubtedly.” He couldn’t have her as he wanted, but it seemed he would take her any way he could.

  She nodded and scampered away from his inner sanctum. His cock throbbed wildly below the desk, and he groaned with the knowledge that he would not stay away from her. Not that night. Perhaps the next.

  Chapter 7

  Stone crept into his wife’s room hours after their exchange in the library. His intent to come to her had been thwarted by the arrival of a messenger from London. The poor soul had ridden deep into the night to ensure the urgent message was delivered. He’d read the contents of the missive and swore the fates were against him. His solicitor had good news on his acquisition of the majority shares of the London and Southwestern Railway. It had positioned him to take over as the chairman of the board for the company, but now it seemed there was a labor dispute he needed to address. Since he was interested in seeing how this growing mode of transport could be leveraged and made profitable, he needed to attend to the matter immediately.

  Theo’s excitement about taking the train versus the coach all the way from London had pleased him no end. Many women in her position would have turned their nose up at such common travel and insisted on a coach with all the trappings. As he reviewed the missive and the resulting plans for his quick return to London, the hour had grown late. He had assumed his wife would be asleep, and he was not wrong. What had surprised him was finding her nude in her bed and clutching the sapphires, as though she had contemplated wearing them, but somehow couldn’t decide to. Or, perhaps she had worn them but removed them in a fit of pique?

  The simple idea that she had considered his naughty suggestion sparked new, more dangerous ideas. Again he reminded himself she was no trollop, or even a welcoming widow, to play out such depraved ideas with. She was a lady, an innocent. She deserved to be treated and bedded with respect. Not manhandled in her parents’ drawing room or paraded around nude bearing the mark of his possession.

  Disgusted with himself, he turned down the bedside lamp and retreated to his own cold, lonely bed. He would have to redirect his lustful nature to other pursuits. Exhaust himself so he could scarcely collapse next to her, let alone soil her with his filthy needs.

  He stripped down to his skin and lay in bed trying to banish the image of Theo wearing his gift and naught else. An impossible task.

  * * *

  Theo awoke in the dark of night. The lamp by her bed had been doused. As she turned up the light, another low, agonized moan pierced the fog th
at still clung to her. She rose and donned her robe before carefully grabbing the handle of the lamp to head in the direction the horrible sound had emanated from.

  She pushed the door open that connected her room to Stone’s and held the light aloft. With a few steps inside, she found her husband sprawled on his bed, sheets twisted about his hips and legs like the twisting tendrils of a jungle vine. He moaned again, a sound full of such anguish, it brought tears to her eyes.

  What had he endured to draw such a horrific sound from him? His legs flailed about as he attempted to escape the bonds of his bedding.

  “No! The women,” he sobbed, and as Theo neared his bed, she could see the tears that escaped from beneath his closed lids. “The children.” His voice broke on the last word as he shook violently.

  Distraught but afraid to wake him, Theo set her lamp down and eased onto the bed next to him. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke his sweat-damp brow. With a light touch of her fingertips, she smoothed his furrowed brow. He mumbled more words, but his thrashing seemed to calm. She continued to soothe him with her touch. As he settled back into a deeper sleep, she hovered in case the nightmares returned.

  Half an hour later, she unwound the sheets from his legs and covered him against the chill of the night. He had remained peaceful while she fussed over him. Confident that he would sleep the rest of the night undisturbed, she retrieved her lamp and slipped back to her own bed.

  However, sleep proved elusive. Unsure of what might have caused such anguish in a man she had come to know as staunch and, at times, stoic, she could not stop the cogs from turning. Could something have occurred during his military service? Perhaps some childhood trauma that followed him into adulthood? She had a cousin who could not abide small spaces due to an afternoon spent locked in a steamer trunk as a girl. Even in the dead of winter, she rode only in an open carriage.