What the Groom Wants

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What the Groom Wants Page 29

by Jade Lee


  “It’s still his plan,” she told her brother. “We are changing the location, that’s all.”

  Bernard shook his head, dismay in every line of his body.

  Wendy sighed. “It takes an even exchange on both sides to make a bargain. Radley and I won’t ever work out. It can’t. Not with him a duke and me with nothing.”

  “He loves you. You love him. That should be enough.”

  She looked at her baby brother, at the determination and the hope still in him. How young he looked sometimes. Or perhaps, it was that she was so old with all romantic notions crushed from her. “It is not enough,” she said. “You know that as well as I.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

  “This is what I want. But I need you, Bernard. I can’t do it without—”

  “I know my part. But I never thought it would be to do this.”

  She touched his face, seeing maturity where before she had seen only softness. “Thank you.”

  “It ain’t a good thing,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

  She echoed his tone, bringing back her accent from their old neighborhood. “It ain’t a bad thing neither. It just is.”

  He nodded once. Then suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms. Like hard bands of steel, they wrapped around her as he buried his face in her neck. “I’m sorry, sis. I’m so sorry.”

  She hugged him back, her eyes wet with tears. “You heard what Mr. Morrison said. This thing started when you were ten. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “But if I hadn’t gambled—”

  “Then he would have gotten Mama to do it, or he would have found another way. It’s not your fault.” Then she straightened. “But you can help me fix it.”

  She watched his face harden with resolve. “Henry wouldn’t let you do it. If he were here—”

  “But he isn’t. You are. And you know this is the only way.”

  He nodded, his expression troubled. But it didn’t change the resolve in his face.

  “I love you, Bernard,” she whispered.

  “Well, you know I love you,” he said, his tone surly. “Only love can make me do something this stupid.” Then he gave her a last look before he left, his movements surprisingly quick and silent.

  Which left her alone in her bedroom to stare at the night sky and brood. The day had progressed in slow, torturous agony. She’d had to tell Mama the news that Henry was missing. Then she’d had to sit and watch her mother grasp at every possibility that her eldest son was still alive.

  Maybe he was at his woman’s place. Had anyone gone there? Maybe he’d escaped the fire. He was an excellent swimmer. Maybe he hadn’t been on the ship at all. Every knock at the door, every shuffle down the hall, brought her head up as she strained to see if Henry had magically appeared.

  He never did. Then Radley had returned from the docks. Wendy knew the truth the moment she’d seen his face. His body sagged with every step, and his eyes were rimmed with red. The conclusions were inescapable. Henry was dead, Radley couldn’t save her, and so Wendy had made her plans.

  And now, everything was set in place. She just had to wait for Damon’s response. He would be at the church with a special license. She knew him that well at least, so she sat and brooded.

  She barely heard the knock on her door. Her eyes were trained on the hot coals in the fireplace. The way the flames danced before her eyes made her mind go blank. So she stared, and she didn’t even respond when the door opened.

  “Wind?”

  Radley’s voice broke her out of her blank state. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry about that. But one look at his drawn expression, and her own misery faded. The guilt was so stark on his face.

  “Radley,” she whispered as she stood. “Oh God, it’s not your fault. You warned him.”

  He stepped into the room, hesitated, and then wrapped her in his arms. She hadn’t realized she’d crossed to him until she felt him enfold her. He wore no coat or waistcoat—just his shirt and cravat, pulled askew. So when he enfolded her, there was little fabric between them, and God, his warmth was exactly what she wanted. She hadn’t known she was so cold until he pulled her into his heat. Even better, when he held her, she felt lifted. Not just in body, but in her heart too. Simply by touching her, he made everything easier because she was not so alone.

  “You didn’t come to dinner,” he said against her hair.

  “I couldn’t face everyone. Mama finally fell asleep, and so I came here.”

  He tightened his grip for a second. “I’ll go if you want to be alone. Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything—”

  “Just this. Just. This.” She buried her face in his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart. He kissed the top of her head, tucking her tighter against him. And they stood that way for a long time.

  Then he shifted, quietly picking her up before crossing to her chair by the fire. It was a large chair done in feminine lines. When he sat in it, the wood creaked, but held. And when she made to lift off his lap, he tightened his arms.

  “You’re going to stay here and eat something,” he said firmly.

  She smiled but shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach was tied in knots. Seelye had brought a tray earlier, but it sat untouched.

  Radley reached for an apple slice, apparently meaning to force her to eat, but she stopped him with a touch of her fingertips on his arm.

  “I can’t. Really. It won’t stay down.”

  He shot her a worried frown, which she ignored as she curled against his shoulder. She wanted to be in his arms. She just wanted—“We don’t have to go through with the plan,” he said softly. “Not right away.”

  She flinched. “I’ve already sent the letter to Damon. Bernard took it an hour ago.”

  “You told him you wanted to talk? You told him to come to your old home? In the old building?”

  “Yes,” she lied, feeling swamped in guilt.

  “That’s all you need to do. He’ll pick the time, probably early afternoon tomorrow. Long enough to get my men in place. The constable will be there too—plus Crowle and Hartfell. We’ll catch him then.”

  She nodded, knowing that Radley and his men would be at the wrong place. “What will you do?” she asked. She needed to know that more than anything. So much hinged on his answer.

  He didn’t respond at first, but she heard his heart speed up and knew that he was afraid to tell her. But in the end, he spoke, his words clear and deliberate. “He is a monster, Wendy. He hurts people, and he carves up women. I was a fool for not killing him years ago.”

  “No,” she said, straightening to look him in the eye. “There was still hope for him even then, I think.” Then when he pressed his lips together, shaking his head, she changed her thoughts. “Very well. Even then it was too late, but what about you? What would have happened if you’d killed him then?”

  “You would not have spent the last year in terror of that bastard.”

  “But you would have changed.” She felt herself grip his shirt as she struggled to compare the boy he’d been then with the man he was now. “I remember when I heard about what you’d done to Damon. I heard that you’d beaten him to within an inch of his life, but you hadn’t killed him.”

  “I should have finished it—”

  “I thought, that’s a real man. Someone who thinks about what he does and why. Someone who has control.”

  He snorted. “It wasn’t control. I was blind with fury.”

  “And yet, you stopped.”

  He tugged her back to lie against him. “I stopped because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill a man, even in rage.” Then his tone strengthened, and she heard the steel in his voice. “I can now.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you can. Not in a temper. Not in—”

  “Wendy, I will kill Damon tomorrow. He has gone too far.”

  No, she thought silently, he wouldn’t. “One of the things I love about you is that you thi
nk before you act. And when you have decided—”

  “I do what is needed.”

  Yes. Just as she would. “We are a pair in that,” she said, “but I don’t think the way you do. I weigh advantage and bargains. You thought of justice and hoped for atonement.”

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking her locks as he thought about her words. “I love that in you. You turn a disadvantage into profit. I think you take any weakness and make it work for you.”

  Her belly clenched at his words. Not the admiration in his tone, but that he used the word “love” in such a way. He loved something about her, not that he loved her. And after tomorrow, would he be able to say that?

  “I love that you have honor,” she whispered. “I don’t think I ever will.”

  He jerked, startled. “What do you mean by that? Of course you have honor!”

  She shook her head. “You said it yourself. I barter. My honor is a good bargain—one in which both parties benefit. And failing that, one in which I benefit.”

  “You bargain for survival. And to help your friends and family. I’ll wager everything I own that you have never cheated a customer.”

  She sighed. “You would lose. I stole Lady Strichen’s emeralds, remember?”

  He nodded, and his expression tightened. “Have you done it again? Ever?”

  She bit her lip, unable to answer. And as the clock ticked away the seconds, he adjusted her so he could look into her face. So she confessed her sin. Not the big sin that had yet to happen. Not her coming betrayal, but the last shame of her past.

  “I collect secrets,” she whispered. “I hear them, you know, from the ladies who come to the dress shop. I write them down and look at them from time to time.”

  “Secrets?”

  “Who is sleeping with who. Who did a favor for someone they shouldn’t have. And, best of all, who has money and how they got it.” She flashed a smile. “Most society women have their own money, and it isn’t always given to them by their husbands.”

  He stared at her a moment, and then his eyes danced with merriment. “You amaze me. I never would have thought that important.”

  It was important and valuable. And he would not be alone in underestimating what women know.

  “Did you blackmail anyone? Did you use the secrets?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I have thought about it.” A great deal.

  “Of course you did. It would be hard not to. But as long as you never do anything with the information, I have no quarrel with you. It is simply bits of knowledge you acquired.” He touched her chin, tilting her so that he could kiss her lips. “I care about actions, Wind. And you have done nothing wrong.”

  Yet. She had done nothing wrong yet. He didn’t know she was about to cross that line irrevocably. Fortunately, he didn’t give her time to speak. Any urge to confess was drowned beneath the touch of his lips against hers, the seeking caress of his tongue.

  She opened immediately. More than anything else, she wanted him to touch her again. Now. Tonight. Before everything changed tomorrow.

  Then he pulled back, his eyes dark and his hands damnably still. “If this is too soon…”

  She grabbed his shirt, snapping off two buttons as she crumpled the fine linen in her fists. “Love me,” she said. Then she yanked him forward with all the fear and desperation and grief that twisted inside. “Love me!”

  He smiled and touched her hands. He didn’t understand that her last words were a command. Or maybe, he did, because his expression gentled to something so tender she had to stare. It was so different that at first, she couldn’t process it.

  “I do,” he said. “I already do.”

  She stared, and eventually, sputtered a question. “W-what?”

  He chuckled. That he could laugh after this day was a joy. A pure joy that when she felt as if her whole world was collapsing, he found the words to shore everything up.

  “I love you, my Wind. And if you will let me, I will love you for the rest of our days.”

  She laughed, the sound watery. “I’ll settle for tonight.”

  “I won’t.” He dropped his forehead against hers. “You’ve promised to marry me. I haven’t forgotten.”

  Neither had she. But tomorrow he would likely rescind that offer. “Just now, Radley. I can’t think about tomorrow.”

  His hand was on her cheek, brushing away the tears she hadn’t realized were wetting her face. “Don’t think, love. Just kiss me.”

  Exactly what she wanted to hear. So she kissed him with all the mix of emotions that churned inside. He took it all into him—the pain, the fear, and most especially, her love—and gave back such adoration he stole her breath away.

  He toyed with her tongue, letting her tease him until that moment when he took control. He dominated her, owning every part from teeth to tongue to the roof of her mouth. And then, a growl rumbled through him, low and hungry. The sound thrilled her, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tighter against her.

  Then she was weightless, her mind wrapped in his kiss while he stood, carrying her in his arms. She barely noticed except when he set her gently on her bed. He tried to pull away then, but she’d wrapped her arms so tightly around him, he couldn’t break away.

  He’d managed to separate their bodies enough that his hands could roam. Shoulder to chest to hips, his large hands stroked her. Then while she moaned her hunger, he found the buttons of her dress. An excellent idea, she thought, as she shifted her grip to finish what she’d started on his shirt. But as she tugged at his cravat, he choked and pulled back.

  “I’ll get that,” he rasped.

  She laughed, a real laugh, on today of all days. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too,” he answered as he pulled off his cravat. Shirt and trousers came next. She wasted no time either as she shrugged out of her gown then set to work on her corset. He helped her, being faster than she. He loosened her ties, then he tossed the thing aside while she pulled off her shift.

  Naked. They were gloriously naked. And he looked at her as if she were a goddess, yet he was the one who appeared Adonis come to life.

  He caressed her cheeks, brushing the wetness aside. “No more tears, love.”

  Had she been crying?

  “Don’t leave me,” she said, knowing that her words meant tomorrow after her betrayal. After she hurt him in the deepest way possible. “Don’t—”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Then he gently pressed her into the mattress. He did it with his hands, not his mouth. He stroked her face and neck as he pushed her steadily back. She didn’t fall until he took her breasts in his hands.

  Yes. Calloused fingers, large palms, and the shape of his hands as he lifted her. Then his mouth came down, and he suckled. Tiny nips accompanied by the swirl of his tongue. Then harder sucks while her back arched.

  His mouth shifted to her other breast, but his hands roved. Belly, hips, then below, where she was wet and open to him. His fingers slid there first, touching her everywhere. He squeezed her thighs and then stroked her petals. He pushed her knees wider apart with his hips, and she felt the briefest brush of his cock—there, then gone.

  “Radley, please.”

  He lifted from her breast, a last hard pull, making her cry out as lightning sizzled from her nipple to her groin.

  “It was just last night. You must be sore.”

  She blinked, his words making no sense. She only knew the desperate thunder of her heart and the emptiness between her thighs.

  “Love me,” she cried again.

  “I do,” he said with annoying calm. Then he kissed his way down her belly.

  She didn’t know what he was doing, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Radley worshipped her body as he gently lifted her knees onto his shoulders. She had a moment to frown, wondering what he was doing, and then she knew.

  Oh God, she knew what men had laughed about at her gaming table. She knew what women whispered behind their hands.
She suddenly understood how a man’s tongue could give the most amazing caress ever. He licked her open, and he thrust his tongue inside. And then he suckled an incredible place just as he had done to her nipples. That place was like a lightning rod, a spot where every stoke shot white-hot fire through her body. And when he sucked her there, she bucked like a wild thing.

  The detonation sent her soaring. No thoughts, no worries, just bliss. Sweet, silent, pulsing bliss.

  Until she drifted back to earth. Until she opened her languid eyes and felt him settle beside her on the bed. He pressed a kiss to her lips then tried to roll her against him, spooning, as if for sleep.

  She frowned, then shook her head. “No,” she managed, her voice a throaty purr.

  He paused, obviously startled. “What?”

  “No, Radley. That wasn’t enough.”

  “What?”

  Fortunately, he had snuggled close to her hand, where it lay lax on the bed. It took only a shift of her wrist before she gripped his cock and squeezed. Just a quick pulse, but it was enough to catch his attention.

  “I said, not enough.”

  His eyes widened, and then she squeezed again, pleased when she heard him groan.

  “I was trying to be respectful,” he ground out. “I thought—”

  She interrupted him with his own words. “Don’t think. Just kiss me.”

  He did. And while he kissed her with deep, thrusting strokes of the tongue, she pulled his hips around by his cock. He made sounds as she did it, half whimper, half growl. Then he broke off their kiss.

  “Easy there. It’s a sensitive organ.”

  It was thick and hard, and when she rolled her thumb over the tip, he shuddered and his eyelids fluttered.

  “Have I hurt it?” she asked, knowing she hadn’t. From what she’d heard at the gaming hells, these organs were singularly indestructible. Then she softened her touch and waited for him to open his eyes. “I want to carry your baby, Radley. I want…”

 

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