A Notorious Vow (The Four Hundred #3)

by Joanna Shupe

Damned women’s clothing. Reaching under her outer skirt, he began untying and shedding her base garments, one by one, until they were gone. He left on her stockings and pushed up her chemise and outer skirt, revealing long and pale legs, her sex so beautiful and ripe. The musky smell of her arousal caused his mouth to water.

  “Remember to tap my shoulder or pull my hair,” he reminded before dipping his head to taste her. He closed his eyes and swept his tongue through her slit. Her moisture met his mouth, a rich heady taste he could feed on for days. His cock swelled, his skin heating from the inside out.

  Using his thumbs, he parted the folds and flicked her clitoris with his tongue. She jumped a little but did not tap or tug on him. Encouraged, he placed a palm on her sternum to feel her moans of pleasure and continued with this most delectable of tasks. He focused on the tight bud, slowly sucking and licking, drawing out the pleasure as long as possible.

  The vibrations under his hand increased until her thighs began to shake, and still he continued to work the swollen nub, his tongue curling and flicking. The sweet taste of her was like honey in his mouth, and his erection strained inside his clothing. God, he could spend so easily like this, her scent and taste surrounding him.

  When she tensed, her back bowing, he sped up his efforts. Soon she stiffened, her legs shaking as the orgasm washed over her. He eased up as her trembling tapered off, only stopping when her flesh became too sensitive.

  He rose up on knees and grinned at her. “More? Or have you had enough?”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  Hard to miss the erection tenting his trousers, he supposed. “There’s no tit for tat between us,” he signed. “I wanted to do that for you. Everything else may wait, especially if you are sore from last night.”

  She bit her lip, raised her hands, and began to unbutton her shirtwaist. His breath caught, hope rising fast. “Are you certain?”

  After she nodded, he wasted no time, tearing at the buttons of his vest. Pushing his suspenders down, he whipped off his shirt, tearing a few small buttons in his haste. With her consent, he now felt frantic, absolutely mindless to get inside her. His balls were high and tight, the length of his shaft throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Next were trousers and his undergarment. He rolled to his back and worked as quickly as possible.

  Once he was naked and on his knees, she had already shrugged off her shirtwaist and corset cover. He signed, “Turn over.” When she was on her stomach, he quickly loosened the corset laces enough for her to pop the fastenings in the front and toss the heavy piece to the floor. Without bothering to remove her chemise, he rolled her over, lined up at her entrance, and pushed the head of his cock inside. Slick, wet heat gripped him and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Holy mother of God, she felt amazing.

  He propped himself on his hands so as to not crush her and, gritting his teeth, pushed forward ever so slowly. It was both torture and pure heaven, his eyes never leaving her face, gauging her reaction.

  Not that he needed to worry. With her head thrown back, lips parted in wonder, she held on to his forearms, keeping him close. After what seemed an eternity, he was fully seated inside her channel. Tight and hot, she gripped him like a fist. Pleasure rippled down his spine, and he had to suppress the urge to take her fast and hard.

  Lowering himself onto his elbows, he kissed her and began to rock his hips, grinding into her pelvis as he pumped. After a moment she began to move as well, meeting his strokes. Tingles spread from his back along his legs to his toes, the familiar climb in the race to climax, and he knew it would not be long. Their tongues dueled as the tempo increased until she tore free of his mouth and buried her face in his throat. She stiffened, and he could feel her moans against his skin.

  Oh Christ. She was perfect, her walls milking his shaft as her nails dug into his flesh. The orgasm rushed up then, white-hot sparks that engulfed him. He quickly withdrew, pulling out to spend on her stomach, every muscle trembling in euphoria as his hand flew over his cock.

  When the world stopped spinning, he dropped onto the bed next to her and closed his eyes. “I shall help you clean up in a moment. Allow me to catch my breath first.”

  A tap on his shoulder got his attention. Christina’s head was turned toward him. “Do you think Dr. Jacobs would help me learn sign language, too?”

  Oliver blinked. “I am certain he would love it but I am perfectly capable of teaching you. Gill probably would as well.”

  “I know, but I thought it would be nice to learn from the person who taught you. Then you won’t need to be bothered with me.”

  “You are not a bother. I like to keep busy, yes, but there will always be time for you.”

  That answer did not appear to appease her. She pressed her lips flat, her brows drawing together. His hands signed as he spoke. “You do not wish for me to make time for you?”

  “No, it is not that. I just . . . do not understand.”

  “That I wish to spend time with you?” Was he misspeaking or slurring his words? Old fears resurfaced, ones he had hoped to never experience again. Frustration burned in his chest as he watched her mouth.

  “I am making a hash of this.” She shook her head. “Forgive me.”

  He rolled onto his elbow and stared down at her. “Christina, there is nothing to forgive. We must work a bit harder sometimes to communicate, but that is no different than any other married couple, I suspect.”

  “Are we a married couple, then?”

  He did not understand this conversation at all. Reaching to the table by the bed, he found a pencil and a small ledger. He handed them to her.

  While she wrote, he rose off the bed and went to his bathing chamber. There he quickly cleaned off, and then he wet a soft cloth with warm water and returned to his bedroom. His spend coated her stomach and Oliver felt an absurd pleasure at seeing that. Like he had marked her somehow. Made her his. More and more he felt attached to this woman, her presence eliciting all sorts of emotions and thoughts he had never experienced before.

  A week ago that may have frightened him . . . but no longer. This woman was meant to be here, with him, forever.

  I will not push you into doing anything against your will ever again.

  He had not forgotten his promise from an hour ago. Somehow, he would have to convince her to stay. Woo her into developing feelings for him. Turn this marriage into a real union.

  Losing her was not an option.

  She handed him the ledger. You said we would live separate lives, he read. You also asked that I respect your private spaces. I agreed and have no wish to break that promise, but your offer to teach me sign language is confusing. What we are doing in this bed is confusing. It feels as if the rules are changing.

  Ah. He understood. The rules were changing. His feelings were changing, the world around him shifting and rewiring itself on a daily basis. No wonder she could not keep up; he could barely keep above water himself.

  He set the ledger on the table once again, keeping it within reach if it became necessary again. “The night of our marriage, I thought it was best if we distanced ourselves from one another. Then the separation at the end of a year would be easier. That has been much harder than I expected, however, and I now find the idea distasteful.”

  Her brows shot up. “You do?”

  He smoothed errant strands of hair off her face. “I do. I like spending time with you. I like having you in my bed. I do not profess to know what any of that means for the future, but I have grown attached to you.” He purposely did not raise the issue of postponing the divorce indefinitely. No need to scare her. Much better that she come to the realization herself, fully understanding all she would be giving up if she stayed his wife.

  “I like spending time with you, too.”

  He tried not to read too much into that statement and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard. Give her time. “Good. Now, let us go enjoy spending time with one another in the bath.”

  She looked at him as if
he’d sprouted a second head. “A bath? Together?”

  Instead of explaining it, he slid his arms underneath her and moved to the side of the mattress. “Yes, a bath together. Trust me, you will love it.”

  “Watch me climb these rocks, Christina!”

  Christina watched as Sarah scampered away and began to climb a large stone outcrop. The two were on a walk today in Central Park. The girl had been bored and Christina took pity on her. A big house, no friends about to play with . . . Christina could certainly understand the loneliness in that. Besides, she liked to walk outdoors, and the park was big enough to prevent the crowded city from feeling overwhelming.

  Sarah, it turned out, loved the park. The young girl had easily climbed every rock they passed, her small legs nimble even in a dress and petticoat. She seemed oblivious to the dirt or the possibility of injury. Christina tried to keep from wincing every time Sarah slipped.

  Oliver’s sister was a curious mix. She often seemed much older and wiser, and then there were times like this, a young girl out enjoying a bit of outdoor play.

  “Too bad Oliver could not join us,” Sarah said when she returned to Christina’s side. They set off toward the main pedestrian path.

  Christina’s skin warmed. Memories flashed through her brain: naked, sweaty limbs and deep kisses. She and Oliver had spent each night together in the past week. I have grown attached to you. Mercy, those words melted her insides each time she recalled them.

  “He needed to continue working.”

  “My brother is very smart. His speaker will help thousands of people hear. Do you think he is smart, Christina?”

  Smart, not to mention handsome and kind. “I do,” she said with a fond smile. Oliver’s sister was adorable, a bright and brave child, so different from Christina at that age. Sarah said exactly what was on her mind, unafraid to voice her opinions. God, how Christina envied that.

  “What did you like to do when you were my age?” Sarah asked as she kicked a pebble with her shoe.

  “Well, I had a lot of lessons, so there was not much free time for play.” Nor were there any children about with whom to play, but she did not bother to mention it.

  “That sounds awful.”

  It had been, actually. Lessons on comportment, manners, dancing, instruments . . . Christina had hated them all.

  “And you did not ride,” Sarah added, her voice indicating what a tragedy she considered this. “So what did you do for fun?”

  She snapped her fingers. How could she have forgotten? “One of the grooms taught me how to practice archery. I quite liked that.”

  “You mean a bow and arrow? Like out in the Dakotas?”

  “Yes, a bow and arrow. You try to hit a target.”

  “Is it difficult?”

  “A little. Points are awarded for hitting each ring of the target. The trick is to hit closest to the center. The person with the most points wins.”

  “I would like to try that one day,” Sarah said.

  “Perhaps you will. I have not practiced in years.” Not since her mother forced her to quit.

  When they reached a clearing, Sarah scampered ahead to chase after a bird, her arms raised wide. Then she discovered a group of children playing with a kite. As Christina watched, Sarah, without any reservation whatsoever, walked over and inserted herself into the mix. Within seconds, she was laughing and trying the kite. “She is so confident,” Christina murmured to herself. Lord knew she never would have dared to interrupt a group in such a manner.

  “Christina.”

  Her shoulders stiffened at the familiar hiss. Stomach clenching, she spun to find her mother barreling down on her, a maid not far behind. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

  “I followed you.” The countess’s hair was pulled back from her face, her eyes narrowed sharply under the rim of her bonnet. “Have you any idea what that husband of yours has done now?”

  “Wait, have you been following me?”

  “I had no choice. I cannot approach you in the gardens any longer, not with the footman following you about. I must speak to you about that man you married.”

  You mean the man you blackmailed into marrying me? She did not say it, of course. Her mother would not appreciate the correction.

  “Are you aware that he has purchased all the Barclay holdings, including the house in Mayfair and the Pennington estate? All the debts and property—even your father’s club memberships. Everything we had left. He has taken it all.”

  Christina fought against showing a reaction, but it was not easy. Good Lord, that must have cost a fortune. What had Oliver been thinking? And had he been planning on telling her? She disliked secrets between them, especially when it came to her parents.

  The hope and happiness of the past few days faded. Oliver had done all this without her knowledge or input. He had not even bothered to discuss this with her. As awful as they had been, she did not want to see her parents ruined. She’d much prefer they went back to London and resumed their old life without her.

  “Christina.” Sarah came to stand next to her. “Are you all right?”

  Her mother’s gaze raked Sarah from head to toe, the disapproval clear. Then she dismissed the young girl, turning her attention back to Christina. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath to collect herself. “However, I am not certain what you believe I can do at this point.”

  “You must talk to him—or write to him, whatever it takes—on our behalf. We want our belongings returned to us. He had no right to take those things.”

  “Mother—”

  “Do not dare argue with me.” Her mother’s lips twisted into a snarl, the lines on her face deepening into angry slashes. “We sacrificed everything to bring you here and marry you to a man suitable of your breeding and . . . and this is how you treat us? Now, I am willing to forgive you if you help us. Your husband is very wealthy and he has no need for those properties. Tell him to sign them back over to us and we shall forget any of this nastiness happened.”

  Christina’s shoulders slumped. She felt very, very tired all of a sudden. “I shall try, Mother.”

  “Good. You have a chance to redeem yourself, Christina. Do not disappoint us as you usually do.” Without another word, her mother turned and strode away, leaving the maid to chase after her.

  Christina chewed her lip and wondered what to do. Oliver now owned everything that had once belonged to her family. What did he plan on doing with it? She could not very well expect him to give the land back to her parents, who had mismanaged everything in the first place. Unless he did, however, her parents would be left without a home. What would they do?

  She rubbed her temples. Once again, she was nothing but a means to an end for her parents. What an unholy mess.

  Sarah was glaring at the countess’s retreating back. “That was your mother? She is not very nice to you.”

  “She means well,” Christina murmured, though there was little enthusiasm behind the words. “Come, let us finish our walk.”

  “Are you sure? We may head back, if you like.”

  The offer touched Christina. “No, let us enjoy the day.”

  At least this way, she would have some time to figure out what to do about her parents . . . and the fact that Oliver was keeping secrets from her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Apollo bolted off the ground and raced to the greenhouse door, instantly gaining Oliver’s attention. Oliver put down his pencil and waited for the unannounced visitor. Frank Tripp stormed in, Gill directly behind him, the lawyer’s notoriously polished demeanor a bit harried.

  “We have a serious problem.” Frank dropped onto one of the small stools, making certain to face Oliver. He tossed his derby onto the counter.

  “What is it?” Oliver signed and Gill translated.

  “It is your cousin.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why was Milton hell-bent on making a nuisance of himself? “What has he done now? Attempted
to steal more money from me?”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Frank dragged a hand over his jaw. “I have a friend, one of the most well-known lawyers in town. He . . . well, he’s not as scrupulous as other lawyers. He will do just about anything if the price is high enough.”

  “And how is that different from you, exactly?”

  “Ha ha. I may twist the law as I see fit but I have never actively broken the law. This particular lawyer, however, believes rules do not apply to him. That he is above the law. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. What does this have to do with Milton?”

  “Your cousin has retained the services of this lawyer. The details are murky, unfortunately, and I was unable to find out the case Milton is pursuing. Have you an idea?”

  Milton had hired a prominent attorney? To what end? And with what money? Oliver shook his head. “I have no clue. He came by last week and I confirmed his monthly allowance was being cut by ten percent.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “About as well as you would expect. Nearly apoplectic with rage, spouting all sorts of nonsense. I told him to leave or I would reduce it by fifty percent.”

  Frank’s brows dipped, his gaze turning wary. “Nonsense? Like what?”

  “Just idle complaints and threats,” he signed. “Nothing to be concerned about, in my opinion.”

  “He has no claim to your money so he cannot possibly think to sue you for it. I wish I knew what he was planning. My gut tells me we should be worried.”

  “Dig harder. See what you can find out.”

  “I will. In the meantime, perhaps you should tell me about these idle complaints and threats.” Oliver started to sign a protest but Frank put his palms up. “Humor me, Oliver.”

  Oliver recounted the conversation, including the bit about the asylum and Christina’s meek personality. A muscle jumped in Frank’s jaw at that bit of information. “Are we to assume this is something about your marriage, about your wife?”

  “He shall have a hard time getting the marriage annulled, if that is what he plans.”