An Improper Wife

by Tarah Scott

  “I am famished,” Caroline went on. “If you give me moment, I will dress, and meet you downstairs in the dining room. A hearty supper and some claret will do us good after the long day’s travel.” Plenty of claret, she silently added. She needed him drunk—one way or another.

  He paused, a brow raised. “Claret, madam? What would your uncle say?”

  She started to reply that she didn’t give a damn what her uncle thought, then recognised the amusement in Taran’s eyes. He returned his attention to his boots and Caroline jumped with the thud of the first boot dropping onto the carpet beside the bed. He reached for the second one, arms flexing with the effort. Her mouth went dry. She was too eager to have those arms around her again. Dear Lord, what was this power he had over her body? Taran pulled the second boot free and dropped it alongside its mate, then rose. Her heartbeat fluttered when he crossed to her and squatted beside the tub.

  “Do you fear our joining so much that you would avoid me altogether?” he asked.

  The weight of his stare rolled over her flesh. She drew in a shallow breath in an effort to slow her pounding heart. Never had she felt so exposed, vulnerable, afraid of the truth.

  “The fear, my lord, is that once our marriage is consummated there is no undoing what is done.”

  He dipped a finger into the water and traced a line over the swell of her breast. “A futile concern, Caroline. We have said the vows. There is no retreat.” He drew a gentle circle around her puckered nipple.

  She shivered. “But…but what if I am not what you expect?” Her heart whispered what if I am more?

  “You are already unexpected.”

  “Unexpected—” Caroline stiffened.

  His attention remained on the nipple he traced. “While I concede you will more likely than not”—a corner of his mouth turned upward—“vex me during the course of our marriage, I am not displeased.”

  His gaze slid upward to her face and he stared for a long moment. He threaded his fingers beneath the damp hair at the nape of her neck. Heat from his hand sizzled on her flesh. With a gentle tug, he pulled her close. A puff of breath escaped his lips. Closer. She could scarcely breathe. His breath fluttered against her lips.

  “My lord,” she whispered as his mouth came down on hers.

  Gentle pressure parted her lips and his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Slanting his head, he sealed their mouths. Tongue rubbed against tongue. He tasted of aged brandy, and the intoxication of his kiss seeped into her blood—into her body.

  At least in the bath, he couldn’t see how wet she was for him. A steady pulse throbbed in her sex and tingles tightened her nipples, chasing into the hidden knot of nerves waiting for his touch, the touch of his mouth. But, tonight, she entered his bed as wife, not lover. Uncertainty dug deeper in her stomach. How differently would he treat her as Lady Blackhall? The courtesan of last night had received the full scope of his desire. As wife, she wanted that and more.

  Taran trailed a hand from her neck, along her spine and dipped into the water, downward over the swell of her hip while he cupped her breast with his other hand and grazed her nipple with a thumb.

  Caroline pulled away from the kiss. “My lord.”

  She lifted a hand dripping with water and braced the palm against his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but froze at the feel of the wall of muscle beneath her fingers. Last night in the carriage, she’d learned his body by touch, but seeing what she had touched brought with it a dizzying sensation that compelled her to explore every inch of him. Unlike the soft, plump bodies of most men of privilege, Taran’s lean, hard body spoke of a man who asked for nothing, but worked for every gain. She frowned at the sight of a jagged scar on the left side of his abdomen, near the middle ribs.

  “What is this?” Caroline touched the scar.

  He sucked in breath. She yanked her hand back, her gaze lifting to his face. His copper eyes blazed. He grasped her hand and her attention fixed on the action as he pressed her palm to the scar. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and warmth seeped clear to her bones.

  “A slip of the sword,” he said.

  Her head snapped up. “My lord?”

  “The scar.”

  A slip of the sword? Whose, a disgruntled husband, or some young buck who dared challenge a calmer hand? How many dawn appointments had this man faced? Had she miscalculated when she’d said Uncle would defeat him in a duel?

  She startled at the brush of fingers on her breast beneath the water. His stare remained locked with hers as he touched her. She flushed, the water suddenly cold. How was she to endure the agonising pleasure and not leap from the bathwater and onto him?

  He leant forward and rested his forehead against hers. “Caroline, I am no brute. Sharing a bed can bring us both pleasure.”

  How could she answer? A wife’s place was not to question her husband’s past liaisons, but the forbidden knowledge she possessed as Aphrodite confirmed the truth of his words. Determination rose. She wouldn’t let a fantasy of a woman who didn’t truly exist occupy Taran’s thoughts. Not tonight. When he plunged his hard, beautiful cock into her, he would know the woman in his arms was real.

  She jammed her eyes shut. Fool, such liberties were not hers to take. He could never know her as he had Aphrodite, not now, not ever. A mental picture rose of their lives fifteen years into the future, his sudden recognition and hatred, that loathing reflected in their son’s eyes as the father’s revulsion seeped into every aspect of their lives.

  “Do not fear,” he whispered near her mouth.

  Caroline jarred from the morbid vision and gave a small cry when he kissed her again. The hand on her hip tightened almost convulsively, then wrapped around her back. He slipped his other arm beneath her knees and lifted her from the water.

  Caroline squeaked and threw her arms around his neck. Water streamed onto his chest and arms, soaking his breeches and leaving a trail across the floor as he strode to the bed. She shivered, the chilled room a stark contrast to the warm, contoured torso that pressed into her breasts and hip.

  He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. “Kiss me, sweet.”

  She blinked in surprise. He stared, the dark eyes intense, but pleading for something, anything, to show she wasn’t without feeling…wasn’t the cold bitch John had said she was. Understanding hit with the force of a gale wind. This man was nothing like John. John would have given no thought to the fact she despised his touch. He would have bedded her until the required heir was produced, then left her a dry husk, never again to be touched or considered.

  But Taran had no taste for life with a woman who hated him. Love was not a requirement, but neither was loathing an option. If she didn’t give herself to him, he would believe she hated him. Until last night, she had. He deserved better than she would have given John. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. He must never know the truth. She had to get to the vial hidden beneath the mattress and empty it onto the sheets before he awoke in the morning.

  Caroline tightened her arms around his neck and inched forward until her lips brushed his. He opened his mouth opened and his tongue snaked between her lips. His gentle but determined thrusts against her tongue set her heart to pounding. God help her, she wanted him. How many more nights could she have with him before this house of cards fell in on her…before he grew tired of her and sought another woman? Her heart twisted. Better another woman than his hatred. She sank into the kiss, drinking in his essence. Never in her wildest dreams had she conceived this moment possible. Her masked lord held her close, sweeping her into a vortex of carnal cravings.

  Arms tight around her, Taran sat on the edge of the bed, settling her on his thighs. She gasped at the feel of his erection against her hip and the pull of awareness travelled from her nipples into the hotness between her legs. He broke the kiss and trailed a finger along her face, feathered his touch along the column of her neck and over her shoulder.

  He bent his head and closed his mouth over a nipple. Ca
roline bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep from moaning. Despite the pleasure that slipped through her veins, melting her from the inside, she would give herself to him as the expected virgin. His velvet tongue curled around the nipple. She squeezed her thighs against the burgeoning need that rose between her legs. Wet heat rolled over her breast. Answering warmth slicked her thighs. He would know how she responded, just as she could feel his arousal, hard and erect in his breeches, prodding into her hip.

  He shifted and set her on the bed, then stood and stared down at her, eyes dark with desire. Her breath caught. Here was the man from last night, filled with lust.

  Tucking his thumbs into the sides of his breeches, he pushed them past lean hips. His broad shoulders, tapered torso, and strong thighs held her mesmerised. And his cock. Long, thick, and fully erect, thrust towards her. Dark curls circled the base and trailed up over his groin. Silvery liquid leaked from the slit in the rounded knob. Her mouth watered, yet she knew she could never again taste him in that way.

  He sat on the mattress and began shoving the breeches from his legs. Caroline scrambled to the centre of the bed. With a hard tug, she pulled the coverlet from the pillows and dived beneath the blanket. The crisp sheets chilled her, but did nothing to stop the steady thrum that pulsed in her pussy. She was wet and her internal muscles clenched with the desire to have his cock deep inside. Caroline swallowed, thankful his back was to her. Her only doubt was her ability to hide her response to him.

  Taran stood and faced her, giving her full view of all that made him perfectly male. “I cannot promise there will be no pain.”

  He seemed to stumble over the words. Perhaps because only last night he’d whispered a similar sentiment to another virgin?

  “I am strong.” She winced inwardly at the schoolgirl words. Even last night, when she had been a true virgin, she’d had no fear of this man.

  He braced one knee on the bed and cupped her cheek. “Do I frighten you?”

  Yes, her heart cried, but she only nodded.

  He leant forward and touched his lips to hers. Caroline silently cursed the tremble in her mouth, then realised he would mistake the action for trepidation, not desire. Praise heaven for small favours. Now if she could just keep from grabbing his cock and shoving it inside her, she might yet convince him she hadn’t tasted him before this night.

  He came down on top of her and she was certain the feel of his hard length through the blanket was enough to bring her instant pleasure. He cupped her face and kissed her. She startled at the gentle thrust of his erection against her stomach. He kissed her cheek, then lower, to her neck. She pushed at his shoulders, unable to stifle a whimper when his tongue flicked at the spot beneath her ear in unison with another thrust onto her stomach.

  “So sweet,” he whispered into her ear.

  Caroline shivered.

  Taran shifted to the side and tugged the blanket from between them. Cool air rolled across her body, puckering her nipples and tightening her pussy to near discomfort. He sucked in breath and a blush of heat rose into her cheeks. He had never looked upon Aphrodite, never had his cock harden because she lay naked before him. Whatever she might have lost, this belonged to her, his wife.

  He shifted back on top of her. Warmth enveloped her like smooth steel heated before a blazing hearth. He kissed her forehead, eyes, then each temple before finally finding her mouth again. Caroline grasped his shoulders. Muscles bunched beneath her fingers and she envisioned those muscles tightening as he pumped into her.

  Her breath caught and he gave a soft chuckle. Unexpected embarrassment warmed her cheeks. This was not a man with his paramour, but the gentle touch of a lord with his lady. While last night his lust had incited her to the heights of ecstasy, this was no less arousing. He kissed her, sliding his mouth from her lips, down past her jaw, neck, then lower to the curve of her breasts.

  She tightened her fingers on his shoulders, her nails sinking into his flesh. He latched onto a nipple and she couldn’t prevent a moan. She shifted, then realised too late she had opened her thighs for him. He settled against her mound and the weight of him pressed so intimately to her brought a wave of desire that was nearly her undoing. His warm hand covered her other breast. He abruptly stopped. She shifted her gaze onto him, her heart pounding. Had recognition come so soon, so suddenly?

  His gaze travelled her length and she instinctively reached for the blanket.

  “You are mine to look upon.” He smiled gently. “To touch.” He traced a line down her leg with a finger. “To kiss.”

  He slid to the foot of the bed and grasped her foot. A tickle caused her to try and yank from his grasp, but his hold tightened as he brought her foot to his mouth and flicked his tongue against her toe. She shrieked when he sucked the toe into his mouth.

  Her pussy throbbed. “Bloody hell.”

  Taran paused and lifted his eyes to hers. He stared for a long moment, then slid his tongue between her toes. Heat raced into her breasts, stomach, fingertips, and her juices soaked her folds. The scent of her arousal intensified, need boiling within her. She stretched her toe and he sucked it the way she’d sucked his cock in the maze, working it in and out of his mouth. She balled her hands into fists against the sudden desire to touch herself and work her fingers between the dewy folds and ease the ache.

  Her toe popped from his mouth and her hips dropped onto the bed. Caroline dragged in a breath. Good lord, she had bowed off the mattress like a catapult pulled back to full extension. She had no idea her feet were connected to her pussy. So he had not given every intimate secret to Aphrodite? What more would he teach her?

  As if reading her mind, he rained kisses up one leg, then the other, rubbing, touching as he drove her beyond thinking. When he parted her legs, her pulse jumped with the hope he would put his mouth on her as he had last night. Instead, he placed soft kisses to her hips, across her pelvis, even tasting her navel before he positioned himself over her. Gaze locked with hers, he settled his hips between her thighs. His cock rode the wet slit of her sex.

  “When I enter you, it will not be pleasant.” He braced on his arms, keeping most of his weight from her.

  Caroline resisted the urge to wrap a leg around his calf. “I understand,” she replied in a small voice she prayed didn’t reveal how much she wanted his hardness slamming in and out of her passage.

  Remember the first time, he’d said as he slid his rod between her legs. Could she recall the pain? The intense, but brief discomfort was a distant memory, drowned within the pool of pleasure that had followed.

  Taran laced the fingers of one hand with hers and, leveraging higher, aligned the crown of his stalk with her drenched opening.

  “You are so wet.” He pushed in an inch and spread her juices over his cock.

  Caroline bit back a whimper. The torture of his patience was killing her. Hold strong, she commanded herself. He must believe you are innocent.

  He pushed a fraction deeper, gyrating his hips to stretch her opening. He wrapped an arm under her back and unexpectedly thrust deep. Caroline cried out. Her back arched off the bed at the burn of intrusion. No longer a virgin, but Taran still had the length and thickness to stretch her taut channel. Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes.

  He hugged her close, keeping their bodies still. “Forgive me.” He kissed her closed eyes. “It is better to get the first thrust over with quickly.”

  Caroline clung to his shoulders. “I am well, my lord.” She shifted beneath him.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, and pulled back before easing into her again.

  His slow, steady strokes built momentum. Cream slicked her channel. Last night, having his cock thrusting into her had been divine. There were no words to describe tonight. He completed her.

  Caroline lifted and rolled her hips. The pressure of his erection nudged the very deepest part of her body. He penetrated fully, then reared back slowly. Tremors rippled her internal walls. Sweat beaded on her brow and the weight of his body press
ed her into the bed. She revelled in the sensations crashing through her. She gasped for breath, but Taran increased his speed. Sliding into her wet, heated sheath, pulling out, then sliding into her again. Cabled muscles in his arms bunched as he braced above her. A tick flinched in his clenched jaw. He rode her, wringing pleasure from her body.

  “My lord.” Her heart leapt. Had he detected the fear lacing her voice? She was going to come.

  Harder thrusts inched her up the bed. She would not have thought it possible, but his rod felt harder, thicker, and plunged unbelievably deeper.

  “La petite mort.”

  “The little death,” she repeated in a whisper.

  Caroline jammed her eyes shut. Tiny sparks flashed behind her eyelids. Her tummy tightened and her mind numbed. Convulsions started deep in her core and radiated out through her body. She gripped his shoulders and locked her legs around his hips. Spasms jerked her entire being. Taran’s arms tightened then, and with a shout, he erupted. Warm seed pulsed within her, slicking her channel as he continued to pump her full of his cream until he at last went limp on top of her, his chest heaving from exertion.

  A moment passed, his breathing slowed, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then rolled to the side. Caroline lay still as a mouse. She didn’t dare glance at him. What thoughts weaved through his mind? Had she been convincing as the blushing bride? Her heart still pounded. She hadn’t been able to completely stifle her response to his touch.

  He stirred beside her, his gentle fingers tracing her arm.

  “The tenderness and blood are expected,” he said.

  She gritted her teeth. Why in God’s name wasn’t the man already snoring in deep sleep? Damn his eagerness. If he chose now to verify her virginity he would find only a slippery combination of their completion.

  He startled her by rising and starting across the room. Caroline stared, mesmerised by the sight of his tight buttocks flexing with each powerful step. Taran reached the sideboard and she jarred from the morbid trance.

  He reached for the pitcher and she scrambled to the right side of the bed. The sound of water sloshing into the bowl filled the silence as Caroline stuffed a hand beneath the mattress. Her fingers touched then closed around the silver vial. She pulled it free just as he set the pitcher back on the table. She yanked the cover up over herself with the intention of opening the top when Taran turned, bowl and washcloth in hand.