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

by Sorcha Mowbray

  At some point after the first pink rays of dawn chased away the night, Theo drifted off to a restless sleep.

  * * *

  Theo entered the breakfast room to find her husband awake and looking refreshed despite the ordeal she knew he’d suffered during the night. He read the local newspaper while drinking his morning coffee. The bitter aroma of the strong brew drifted from across the room, and to her surprise, she found it perked her up. Mayhap she would try it in lieu of tea this morning.

  “Good morning, Stone.” Had her voice warbled?

  “Good morning, Theo. I trust you slept well?” He turned the page of the news.

  “As well as could be expected.” She refused to mention his absence from her bed or her discovery of his nocturnal torment. She settled down at the table and poured herself a cup of coffee, and then asked the footman to bring her a piece of ham and a coddled egg for breakfast.

  In silence, she lifted her cup to her lips, inhaled the bracing scent of the coffee and sipped. Sputtered. Choked. And coughed. In that order. Her husband slapped the paper down and rose to aid her. He patted her back as she regained her capacity to breathe.

  The humiliation of the moment overwhelmed her. Crawling under the table to hide seemed a perfectly rational solution at the moment.

  “Are you well?” he asked as he hovered over her.

  “Yes.” Her voice came out raspy from the abuse of choking on a hot liquid.

  “Have you ever had coffee before?” One brow lifted toward his hairline.

  “No.” She stared at her plate and willed the tears of mortification back. “It smelled so delicious when I came in, and Mother had banned the drink from the house, calling it uncivilized. I was curious to taste it, but the stuff is vile.”

  “Many find it to be upon first tasting it. You also might try it again after treating it much as you do tea. Perhaps a bit of cream and sugar might make it more palatable?” He nudged the sugar and creamer set in her direction and then returned to his seat and lifted the paper up to cover his face.

  Suspicion crept past her embarrassment and bedeviled her until she rose and peeked over the paper her husband perused so intently. The hidden tableau sparked her outrage. The man was laughing at her.

  “You odious man, I cannot believe you are laughing at my distress,” she pouted, only slightly serious about her indignation.

  “I watched the entire evolution, and with such a violent and unexpected outcome, I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. You are adorable in your curiosity and your eagerness to try new things. It is also the reason you wind up in such predicaments. If you had simply asked for my guidance, I could have offered the cream and sugar from the start and spared you the experience.”

  She laughingly glared at him as she spooned sugar into her cup, followed by a dribble of cream. Her late-night foray into nursing her husband was quickly forgotten. “I have found most experiences are best had uncolored by anyone else’s perceptions.”

  “While that can be true”—a shadow flitted across his beautiful eyes—“such an approach can also lead to foolish mistakes that might get a countess in trouble.” His gaze narrowed meaningfully.

  “I shall consider your advice in the future when appropriate, Stone.” Then she addressed the breakfast plate a footman had fortuitously delivered. With food to consume, she could cease having a pointless conversation. He would not be allowed to control her experiences. That point was tantamount to the success of their arrangement.

  “Very well. Since you are already put out with me, I am afraid I have some bad news.”

  “Oh?” She paused in cutting her ham.

  “Yes, it seems I shall have to return to London tomorrow morning first thing.”

  Her heart pounded. Things between them had been progressing well, or so she thought. But then he’d not come to her that night as he’d said he would. Had she done something to displease him in bed? “What time shall we leave?”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t want to drag you back so soon after we arrived. Besides, I know you have much to do here to take the reins. I shall hurry back alone and hopefully be able to return in a few days’ time.”

  “I see. Well then.” She laid down her fork and knife and rose from the table. “I believe I should be about those very duties you mentioned.” And with that, she departed the room lest he witness her utter dismay.

  * * *

  Later that evening, after reminding herself that they were in fact married and that he was simply returning to London for a few days, she determined to be naught but cheerful at dinner.

  She appeared in the dining room dressed in a beautiful light-blue silk gown made by none other than the House of Worth. It was an elegant confection with simple lines and subtle detailing around the neckline. The perfect dress for an evening meal in the country with her new husband.

  However, she sat alone for nearly an hour before she resigned herself to his disappearance. Once she’d eaten, she headed back to her chamber by way of the library. She spotted the light beneath the door, hesitated, and then decided to continue on to her room. There was little point in making an issue of his absence. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped one of the maids.

  “Please ask Mrs. Hedley to see that a dinner tray is sent to the library for Lord Stonemere.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The girl bobbed a curtsy and headed toward the kitchens.

  Content that she could be sure he at least would not starve, she retired to her room, where Mary helped her undress.

  “Which nightgown will you wear tonight, my lady?”

  “The regular cotton, please.”

  Mary looked at her queerly but provided the requested gown. Then her maid brushed out her hair until it shone like spun gold. “Thank you. That will be all, Mary.”

  Alone, she slipped into bed and picked up the book she had selected from the library earlier that evening. The copy of Wuthering Heights was as good as new. All evidence suggested it had never even been opened. She settled in to read one of her favorite stories of tormented love. It seemed apropos in light of her current situation. She found herself infatuated with her husband, despite the arranged union, and he seemed to be continuing on about his life as though nothing had changed.

  Perhaps tomorrow morning she could rise early enough to see him off. Content with that plan, she settled in to read.

  * * *

  Just shy of midnight, Stone found himself once again lingering over his wife’s sleeping form. This time, however, there were two notable differences. As opposed to her nude state the night before, tonight a cotton sack some women might call a nightgown covered her from neck to toes. The second difference was that instead of clutching his gift to her, she lay grasping a book. The sapphires were nowhere to be seen.

  I am undoubtedly the biggest fool in England.

  He leaned over to slip the book from her grasp, but she woke up. “Stone, what are you doing here?”

  Her sleepy little question caught him up. “Where else would I be?”

  “Your library, on the way back to London, and in your own bed are all places that come to mind.” She sat up.

  He lowered himself to the edge of the mattress. His wife sat with her hair peeking out of a lace monstrosity that he knew women were prone to wearing at night. But beneath that distracting frill, her blue eyes held a soft, sleepy quality that brushed too near the look of desire she’d worn on their wedding night as he thrust into her body. The need to taste her lips again crashed over him like a wave swamping a ship. “But you see, you are here. So how would any of those locations allow me the opportunity to do this?” Then he gave in and kissed her.

  Despite the hideous nightgown she wore, her sleep-hazed response fired his blood. She kissed him sweetly and then, when he delved deeper, she opened to him with a little moan. Her arms slipped up over his linen-shrouded shoulders to tangle in the hair at his nape.

  God, how he wanted to be in her arms. The idea of leaving for London was both horrific and a bo
on to his drowning soul. He’d tumbled arse over boots, unsure how to right himself in the maelstrom that one woman created with a simple kiss.

  Lost in the storm, he pushed the ugly cap off her head, drew the covers down, and cupped her breast over the cotton barrier she wore. He kissed down her neck and sought out the buttons of her sleepwear, swearing in his head when he found the row of tiny buttons—thousands of tiny buttons. One by one, he released them. The task seemed endless until the material parted to expose the pink-flushed flesh of her chest and breasts.

  He tongued one nipple and then the other as he left her arms trapped at her sides by all the material. “Stone, please. Take the thing off. I want to touch you.”

  He groaned. If she were allowed to touch him right now, this would be over before it began. “No,” was all he could manage as he worked to unfasten his trousers. The need to bury himself in her heat rode him the way Aries charged into battle, with fierce determination and unstoppable power.

  Freed from its entrapment, his cock rose up long and hard between his thighs. He shifted, shoved the covers down, and then found the hem of the ugly night dress. He pushed it up until the hem doubly entrapped Theo, leaving her lower half exposed. Then he loomed over her and notched his prick at her opening. “So beautiful.”

  A shiver of anticipation racked his body, and then he pushed inside her. She groaned and rose up to meet him as best she could, tangled in the yards of cotton fabric. “That’s it, pe— Love. Take me.” He groaned as he pumped into her heat and gave them what they both seemed to want.

  Her head thrashed restlessly while she lay practically helpless beneath him. Her hips rose to take him over and over again as he thrust into her, and then she groaned. “More. Stone, I need… I need more.”

  And his restraint snapped. He pounded into her with a brutal rhythm that seemed to answer her demand while sating the raging beast within. He fucked her hard and long until she shattered around him, helpless to do anything but take what he gave. He stamped her with an indelible imprint of him, or so it seemed in his mind’s eye. Even if she didn’t wear the sapphires every day, her body would know who she belonged to and who its master was.

  It would be enough. It must.

  With a growl, he exploded as he emptied his seed into her quim. Mine, he roared in his head. Mine.

  And then they fell asleep still joined together, while her arms remained tangled in the fabric at her sides.

  Chapter 8

  Theo woke to the sun streaming through her window. No! She lunged from the bed and tripped over the fabric that slid from her waist to her ankles as she raced toward the window. Despite kicking free of the nightgown, her limbs seized up with muscles that ached as though she’d tumbled down the stairs sometime in the night.

  She stood in limbo between the bed and the window, naked. She stared out at the glorious sunny day and let flashes of her night visit wash over her. Her husband looming over her. Arms trapped by her nightgown. His refusal to free her. And then the pressure as he surged into her, filled her with such passion. The way he plundered her body and her soul with an utter ruthlessness that melted both her heart and limbs.

  The memory of begging him for more and how he’d delivered all she had requested, yet had no words to name. The roughness of his loving matched the ferocity of the turmoil that had surged deep in her soul. Her heart. And then at the end, as he planted his seed deep inside her, left a bit of himself for her to cherish and possibly create a child, he’d bellowed loud enough to bring the rafters down. Mine! He had yelled as though he’d claimed her, marked her as his in the most elemental way.

  It gave her shivers to hear that cry again, even in memory. Shivers of pleasure followed by a deep, burning need to stake her own claim on him. When he returned from London, she would greet him wearing naught but those sapphires and show him the truth of what was in her heart.

  Confident in her decision, she called for Mary. Her maid appeared from the little room off her own. “I need a bath. A nice hot bath with some salts to soothe my aching muscles. Then I shall dress and set about getting this house in hand with Mrs. Hedley.”

  “Very good, my lady.” Mary helped her with her dressing gown and disappeared to see about the water. Theo picked up Wuthering Heights and read while she waited. Soon, she would have both her husband and his country house set to rights.

  * * *

  Stone looked up at the rare spot of sunshine and hoped it might be symbolic of coming good fortune. After all, with negotiations between management and their rail workers stagnating for the seventh day in a row, he could certainly use a spot of luck. For the moment, he’d settle for a simple reply from his new wife. He feared with yet another missive explaining his failure to return, she might do something rash. Well-meaning, but rash nonetheless.

  Setting aside his personal worries, and with the hope that a brisk walk might clear his head, he focused on finding a way to establish common ground between the two parties. Despite the fact he was part owner—though newly so—the workers seemed to feel he might be able to strike an agreement, and management shared that notion.

  A woman’s scream sliced through his thoughts, and he turned to his right to see two people struggling down a shadowed alley. Again she screamed out, “Help me!”

  A soldier at his core, he dashed into the narrow, darkened passage and found a woman being hit by a man. Anger sliced through Stone like a sharp blade, and he grabbed the assailant. “Stop that this instant!” he said as he jerked the woman’s attacker off her person and slammed him against the wall.

  The man, an ancient bag of bones, really, slid down the wall into a heap. Stone turned to check on the victim but found himself alone in a dark alley with two men. A glance back the way he’d come showed the light of the thoroughfare too far away for him to make a dash for it.

  The first thug, who had a droopy eye, came at him with nothing more than his fists. Stone almost chuckled as he considered how ill-prepared the chap was for what would come next. The brute swung, and Stone ducked past him. He popped up and surprised thug number two, who seemed a bit gimpy, with a right hook as he spun around to address Droopy Eye. Face-to-face, they circled each other for a moment as Gimpy lay on the ground moaning about his nose. Stone stepped in and caught Droopy Eye on the nose with a quick jab, but the man grinned and came at him. As Droopy Eye lunged forward, Stone straightened up, stepped to the side, and jerked his arm straight out perpendicular from his body. He caught the thug at throat height, and he went down like a sack of bricks. The man wheezed as he held his throat, but Stone decided there was little point in remaining where he was. Survival was far more important than trying to bring his attackers to justice.

  Besides, he was more than a little embarrassed at being taken in by the helpless-female-victim routine. It was enough that the thieves had not grabbed his wallet, though, come to think of it, they’d never made a grab for it or demanded his money. They’d simply come in swinging as though they were out for blood. He loped back down the alley and into the sunshine, where he melted into the crowd.

  Of late, his life had turned into a series of high adventures. When he wasn’t dealing with his new wife, he was dodging wagons, and now thieves. If he were a more suspicious man, he might wonder at the coincidences. Perhaps he needed to be more mindful of his surroundings, since it seemed civilian life had made him soft.

  * * *

  The two weeks of their honeymoon had come and gone with little more than a few hasty notes from Stone. The last noncommittal bit of correspondence was the outside of enough. Theo marshaled the staff, and by midafternoon had set off to Southampton to catch a train to London.

  She arrived home shortly after midnight to learn that her husband was still out. Furious with her recalcitrant spouse, she entered his study with the intent to search out some clue as to what might be so important in London. They had never agreed to fidelity within the union, but she didn’t want to believe her husband might be a philanderer. That would be too mu
ch to bear.

  As she searched his desk, which consisted mostly of locked drawers, she could no longer contain her fears. Throughout her journey home, the voices grew louder and louder until the doubts about her marriage and her performance of her wifely duties loomed large. Had she done something to offend him? He had said he did not wish her to lie still, but could she have moved too much? Been too participatory? Heat simmered in her cheeks as she thought about all they had done together, and yet she could not deny something remained amiss.

  Perhaps he saw her as little more than a broodmare? A perfunctory wife, despite their agreement to try to be amiable. Her belly twisted and turned beneath her stays, and she wanted to be sick to her stomach. But then she considered the sapphires he’d gifted her. Thought of the way she had found him staring at her in the dark of her chamber at Stonemere Abbey. As she made her way up the town house stairs, exhaustion pulled at her, aggravating her worry.

  Fortunately, once in her chamber, she found Mary had again borne up under challenging circumstances. Despite her listing mobcap and the slight gleam of perspiration on her pale brow, the room was neat as a pin with nary a gown or trunk in sight. Unlike many of her peers, Theo felt a surge of gratitude at her maid’s efficiency. “Please, Mary, simply help me disrobe and I shall take care of the rest tonight. You’ve earned your bed, plus a late-morning sleep. I shouldn’t need you until midmorning.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Mary’s tired response confirmed what Theo knew. The woman was dead on her feet. After her nighttime ablutions, Theo slipped into her bed and willed herself to sleep. Tomorrow would be the first foray into battle either for or with her husband. She couldn’t be sure which yet, but whatever might come, she was prepared to go down with the ship.