The Widow Wager

by Jess Michaels

  Suddenly he was very aware of her, of her warmth, of the sweet smell of her hair. Of the fact that her lips were slightly wet as she looked up at him.

  “What is between you and me is between you and me,” she whispered.

  “That is certainly true,” he murmured in response, lowering his mouth as she lifted hers.

  They met in the middle, first with a rather chaste kiss, which swiftly spiraled into more. Her mouth opened and she brushed his lips with her tongue, eliciting a moan from him that allowed her access. Their tongues tangled, dueling in a battle for pleasure. One he realized they would both win when she eased herself into his lap.

  “Mrs. Flynn,” he teased. “You are shocking.”

  “I am, I think,” she agreed. “Do you disapprove?”

  He pushed a hand under her skirt, hissing out pleasure as he stroked his fingers up her smooth thigh until he found the sweet wetness of her pussy. She gasped as he began to stroke his fingers over her.

  “I don’t disapprove at all,” he murmured before he claimed her mouth again.

  He continued to tease her, tracing her outer lips, reveling in her warmth and heat until she groaned low in her throat.

  “How much time until we’re back at your home?” she whispered.

  “Enough, but do you really want this? I know you ache.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with desire. “I ache for you.”

  He almost came undone right then and there. He’d never known a woman with such passion before. Even the widows and courtesans who had thrown themselves at him over the years had not been so exuberant in their desires.

  And he found he met her need beat for beat. His cock was rock-hard and his headache long gone as he wrestled to free himself from his trousers. When he had, she let out a sigh and took him in hand right away.

  He let his eyes flutter shut as she stroked over him. God, she was good at that. She held him just right, just perfectly for pleasure, and he could have easily found release with just her hand.

  But he wanted to make her come. He wanted to fill the carriage with the steamy heat of their joining. He wanted her to always think of that when she rode in it.

  He caught her hips and maneuvered her to straddle over him. They both hurried to shove her skirts aside, bundling them between them as she laughed at the ridiculousness of it. But her laughter abruptly stopped when he lifted her and his cock naturally found her slit. She slipped down over him, her body pulsing as she let out a strangled moan.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as she immediately began to jerk over him. At first her rhythm was clumsy as the carriage rumbled and turned, but soon she found the way to use the movements to their advantage. She stroked over him and he lifted into her, lost in her heat, lost in her kiss, lost until the moment that she tilted her head back and let out a long, low moan of release.

  Her body pulsed wildly around him and he grasped her hips to force her continued movement. Her orgasm milked him, her sighs and moans urged him on, his pleasure mounted rapidly, like an out of control stallion and finally, with a roar he feared anyone on the street could have heard, he exploded inside of her.

  She smiled as she dropped her forehead to rest on his, her arms tightening around him a little. He sucked in a breath. This felt so natural, so normal, so right.

  And it also felt like a betrayal of the deepest kind.

  Gently he helped her move away from him and moved to sit on the other side of the carriage. As he fixed himself, she watched him, her smile fading with every passing moment.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

  He forced a smile. “Not in the least, I think that was exactly what we both needed after the unpleasantness at your father’s. But we’ll be home soon, so I thought I should fix myself so we don’t end up in an embarrassing situation.”

  She watched him for a moment more, then slowly began to do the same, smoothing her skirts over herself, fixing her hair. He watched her do it all, mesmerized by her movements and wishing, for a fleeting moment, that he could launch himself at her and undo all her work.

  But he didn’t. He stayed on his side of the carriage as they turned down the drive and stopped in front of his home. He felt the footman coming down from the back, heard voices as they prepared to open the door and he reached for her, wanting to offer her comfort so she didn’t think he judged her for her passion as her first husband had.

  He drew her across the gap and kissed her once, gently, on the lips. He wanted more but refrained as he whispered, “Now, how about that bath, Mrs. Flynn?”

  Some of the tension bled away from her face and she nodded. “Together, Mr. Flynn?”

  That hadn’t been what he meant, but as he stared into her face, so open, so filled with desire and passion, he found himself nodding.

  “I would like nothing better.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gemma hoped her emotions were not clear on her face as she stared across the Duke of Hartholm’s parlor and watched her husband pour them each a glass of wine. If they were, the entire family would see how confused she was by Crispin.

  He was never anything but kind, so far. Yes, he could be selfish, but when he recognized that, he always did his best to remedy it. But there was still the matter of how he withdrew from her. He made love to her in the carriage with abandon, only to set her aside like he had done something wrong.

  And just when she’d started to feel despair, he took her up to their chamber and they shared a bath where he brought her pleasure over and over again until the water went cold.

  But tonight, he had once again been withdrawn, never touching her, hardly looking at her as they shared dinner with his family.

  Not that it hadn’t been a nice evening. Once again, the Flynn clan had welcomed her with open arms. Annabelle and Serafina—who had come down to join them despite what was obvious discomfort after the birth of her baby—had dragged her in like an old friend. His mother was sweet and treated Gemma no differently than she did Serafina. Even Rafe and Marcus had made her feel she belonged as they shared supper.

  She just feared all that would change once Crispin broached the subject of the promise he had made regarding Mary’s Season.

  “You are pale, my dear.”

  Gemma jolted at Serafina’s voice and the touch of her new sister-in-law’s hand on her own. She glanced over and smiled. It was difficult not to smile when one looked at the Duchess of Hartholm. Serafina was as beautiful as any gossip had ever said. She was the kind of woman men stopped to stare at as she walked by, that other women watched and copied in the hopes they might obtain just a fraction of her luster.

  And yet, despite that outward physical beauty, what shone from within her was the warmth of kindness, the depth of love. Gemma could see why Rafe was so in love with her, why the entire family adored her.

  “I suppose it is been a difficult few days,” she admitted.

  Serafina’s face gentled. “The beginning is always difficult,” she said. “You must recall that Rafe and I were also forced into a marriage, though certainly under very different circumstances. I know how you must feel as though you have been spun around a dozen times, then flipped onto your head.”

  Gemma laughed. “You know, that is exactly right. I cannot seem to find my footing.”

  Serafina glanced across the room and Gemma followed her gaze. She was looking at Crispin, who stood now with his brother, sister, their mother and Marcus. He was holding two glasses of wine, but had obviously been waylaid by whatever discussion they were having.

  When Crispin’s eyes darted to her, Gemma stiffened. Were they talking about her?

  “My advice is to try to find your footing together if you can,” Serafina said. “Rafe and I were uncertain at the beginning, but even with all my misgivings I recognized the good qualities in him. Qualities I could live with for the rest of my life. It helped me accept what was happening. Thos
e are qualities his brother is also capable of displaying.”

  Gemma stared at Crispin. Yes, she had also seen his good qualities on display. His kindness. His willingness to help her sister merely because she had asked him to do so. His gentleness when she confessed her past with her husband.

  She looked at Serafina. “You seem very content now.”

  Serafina’s face lit up. “More than so. Rafe and I fell deeply, passionately in love, despite our rocky beginning. I am happy every day for the odd circumstances that brought us here. I hope one day you and Crispin will feel the same way.”

  Gemma turned her face to hide her blush. She could not imagine a time when she and Crispin would say they were deeply in love. Yes, when he touched her, she felt more alive than ever. She wanted him, seemingly every moment of the day now. But that was not love. And perhaps it was for the best.

  Serafina seemed unaware of her thoughts. She sighed. “I see our love grow even more now that our son has arrived.”

  “Will we meet him tonight?” Gemma asked, happy for the change of subject.

  Serafina nodded. “In a short while, it will be time for him to be fed. I’ve insisted on doing it myself—I don’t want a wet nurse. So they’ll bring him to me and everyone can coo and aww over him.”

  “Are you two plotting?” Rafe asked as he broke away from the rest of his family and moved toward where they sat on the settee. He placed a hand on Serafina’s shoulder and she looked up at him with what could only be described as adoring eyes.

  Gemma glanced away from it, feeling as though she was interrupting something far too intimate to be viewed by a relative stranger.

  “You know me, my love. Aren’t I always plotting?” Serafina teased.

  His laughter was light and his smile bright as he turned it on Gemma. “Stick with my wife, Gemma—she will always lead you into some kind of mischief.”

  Annabelle and Marcus came to sit on the settee opposite them and Annabelle laughed. “That is true, isn’t it, love?”

  There was a moment where a world of unspoken but highly passionate conversation went between the Riverses, and once again Gemma found herself blushing as she glanced at her lap. Every marriage in this family was a love match. She and Crispin were the only odd ones to the group.

  “Actually, this is a very good transition,” Crispin said as he led his mother to a chair and helped her into it. He smiled down at her, then looked at the group as a whole. “You see, we do actually need your help.”

  Rafe straightened up and suddenly he was all seriousness. “You know I’ve always been there to offer it.”

  To her surprise, Crispin flinched slightly before he continued, “We visited today with Gemma’s father and her sister, Mary. You all know that her father is the one who created this marriage with his machinations, but he also did the same with Gemma’s first marriage.”

  Serafina jerked her gaze to Gemma and their eyes met. All the kindness that was in her stare was almost too much, but Serafina didn’t allow her to look away. She took her hand once more and squeezed it.

  “I know exactly how you feel and I am sorry,” she whispered.

  Gemma blushed and tried not to cry as she nodded. “Thank you.”

  “We will compare war stories someday, I think,” her sister-in-law said. “And take solace in where our lives have taken us.”

  “Yes, Gemma is safe now from whatever he plans,” Crispin continued, though his voice was gentler now, softer. “But Mary is not.”

  Rafe nodded. “We discussed her yesterday. We would be happy to help.”

  “Good, because I’ve already offered the man two Seasons hosted by the celebrated Duke and Duchess of Hartholm.” Crispin folded his arms, as if daring the two to deny him.

  Gemma covered her face briefly. God, he could be a clod sometimes, utterly unaware of himself. He was supposed to be politely asking his brother and sister-in-law for assistance, not declaring the deed to be done and expected.

  “I am so very, very sorry,” she moaned, forcing herself to lift her head and look at the duke. Rafe stood impassive behind the couch where she sat.

  His brow wrinkled and he exchanged a brief look with his wife. “Why?” they asked in unison.

  Gemma struggled for words. “Because we were put in a terrible position with my father today and Crispin claimed an offer that didn’t truly exist. We should have talked to you about it first, we should have verified that it was all right with you, we should have—”

  Rafe held up a hand with a laugh. “Great God, woman, stop before you hurt yourself. We are happy to help your sister. Of course, at this moment, I speak for my wife, since she will likely be far more help than I could be.”

  Serafina shook her head, but she was smiling. “You may speak for me on this subject, my love, for you know my mind exactly.” She turned her attention to Gemma. “I am very, very happy to chaperone and host your sister. For you and for Crispin, but also because I do know what it is like to have all your choices torn away. If we can grant Mary a few, I will be exceedingly happy to help.”

  “Truly?” Gemma breathed, all her anxiety fading for a moment.

  “Of course,” Serafina reassured her. “I will need a few weeks before I can return to the ballroom, but I could pass that time by talking to your sister, we can work out a few strategies, we can discuss gowns and potential good mates. And if your father insists, Rafe could easily step out as chaperone.”

  Annabelle smiled. “Serafina is a wonderful help. She and my brother helped me greatly.”

  At her side, Marcus snorted. “You helped yourself right into a scandalous marriage with a club owner. Please don’t terrify poor Gemma with your story.”

  Gemma found herself laughing as Annabelle playfully swatted her husband. “From all I’ve seen, I think she made a good match, with Serafina’s help or not.”

  Annabelle sighed. “Indeed, I would agree. If your sister ever has to choose between a titled fop and true love, I will strongly advise her to choose true love. I think Serafina will agree to that, too, despite having her own fop.”

  Rafe clutched his heart. “You wound me,” he growled, but it was all in jest.

  Their mother rolled her eyes and looked at Gemma. “Do you see what you have married into?”

  Gemma nodded, playing along, but her heart had been swelling more and more with every exchange. Yes, this was what she’d married into. This loud, funny, exuberant, and very loving family. And they accepted her, at least so far.

  She glanced at Crispin. He was also watching it all, but his wry smile held caution that made her happiness fade.

  “I knew you would all help willingly,” he said, interrupting the reverie. “However, the point may be moot. Gemma’s father may not allow Mary to do any of this. He has not yet accepted the offer.”

  The jovial tone in the room vanished and Gemma clenched her hands in her lap. It was so easy to feel light with this family, that she had forgotten that one dark point. Her father was petty enough he very well might deny them their plan.

  “Well, if that is true than we must urge him along,” Rafe said. “I could—”

  Serafina glanced up at him. “You will do nothing,” she interrupted. “In this case, I think it will be better if I make the contact.” She rubbed her hands together, as if plotting a delicious coup. “I shall use my very best Duchess of Hartholm signature.”

  “You have a Duchess of Hartholm signature?” Marcus asked.

  Serafina nodded. “Oh yes, of course. It’s very fancy and fine and conveys the importance of my role. Especially to those who may need reminding. I think I shall say, ‘The Duke of Hartholm and I very much look forward to escorting your daughter Mary through the remainder of this Season and all of the next.’”

  “But he hasn’t agreed,” Gemma sputtered.

  “No, Serafina is brilliant,” Crispin said. “She will address it as if it is already resolved. It pressures him to acquiesce so he won’t l
ook like an idiot.”

  Serafina smiled at him. “Thank you, Crispin.”

  Crispin stared at his sister-in-law for a moment, then he slowly came around the settee and knelt before her. “No, thank you, Serafina. Thank you.”

  Gemma watched the exchange and she saw that there was far more to it. Crispin was apologizing to her as much as thanking her. And from Serafina’s gentle expression, she knew it too.

  “We’re so happy to have you back,” she whispered.

  He nodded, but there was a flicker of pain in his stare.

  At that moment, there was a light knock and a maid stepped into the room, a bundle of blanket in her arms. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to bring Young Crispin when it was time for his feeding, Your Grace.”

  Crispin got up and helped Serafina do the same. She did so slowly, but her face lit up as she held out her arms for her baby.

  “Thank you, Bridget.”

  The maid smiled warmly at her mistress and then the rest of the room before she left the family alone.

  “Ah, the little man is hungry,” Serafina cooed. “And I’ll take him out the room to do that, but before I do.” Her lashes fluttered up. “Do you think you’d like to hold him, Uncle Crispin?”

  Crispin tensed at the question. Had he ever held a baby before? Not in his recollection, though perhaps he had held Annabelle as a baby.

  Still, that wasn’t exactly his style. He stammered, looking for an answer, but Serafina didn’t wait. She moved a step closer.

  “Hold your arms like I am,” she encouraged him, and he copied her stance as best he could. “I’ll lay him in the crook there and all you must do is hold his head steady.”

  Crispin hesitated. “Serafina, I—”

  She smiled. “You won’t break him, Crispin, I assure you.” With that, she set the warm armful of blanket into his arms and, once her hands were free, pulled the edge away to reveal a tiny pink face.