Worth of a Lady (The Marriage Maker Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  Thankfully, the coachman rode a few paces ahead. She prayed he didn’t look back and guess her embarrassment. They rode slowly. Still, the rise and fall of the horse forced her hip to rub against Quinn’s… She swallowed. This was not how she’d expected to spend her wedding day.

  “I’m sorry for this inconvenience.,” Quinn said.

  “It isn’t your fault.” Lucy kept her eyes on her lap. Good Lord, she was glad he couldn’t see her face.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Lucy shook her head.

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded.

  He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up toward him. “I don’t believe you.” A wicked light gleamed in his eyes.

  Lucy stiffened. “You are making fun of me.”

  The horse stumbled. Lucy threw her arms about Quinn’s neck.

  He chuckled. “You can hug me like this all day, if you like.”

  Lucy blinked, then understood his meaning. She shoved back and felt herself slip backwards. She grabbed for his shirt and his arms tightened around him.

  “That’s not bad, either,” he said.

  Lucy snapped her head up and met his gaze. The wicked delight had been replaced with an intensity that took her breath. His eyes dropped to her mouth. He drew back on the reins. The horse stopped and she froze as Quinn lowered his head. Their mouths touched and she closed her eyes. A tremor rippled through her at the pleasant pressure of his lips against hers. He breathed deep and she was surprised when their breaths mingled. His arms tightened around her and she melted closer.

  Tentatively, she slid a hand up his arm to his neck. Something flicked her lips. She jumped. Quinn chuckled. Another flick of his tongue against her mouth. Then he applied gentle pressure with his tongue and she realized he wanted her to part her lips. Her heart beat faster. Lucy parted her lips a fraction. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and she gasped when he tangled with her tongue. She quashed the impulse to pull away. A wife must submit to her husband’s attentions.

  But this…this, she realized, was quite nice. A pleasurable warmth spread through her. He tasted like the port he’d drunk after breakfast. The desire to get closer to him rose and she nestled nearer his chest. He groaned and she shivered when the sound reverberated through her. The hair at his nape tickled the tips of her fingers. The locks were surprisingly soft. Lucy slid her hand upward into his hair. Her pulse skipped a beat. She liked the silken flow of hair between her fingers. Lucy became aware of a thrumming between her legs, a beat in rhythm with her heart. What—

  Quinn abruptly broke the kiss and buried his face in her hair. What had she done? Did he not like her? What would she do if he didn’t?

  At last, he lifted his head and nudged the horse into action. He looked down at her

  “Beware, sweet, you tempt me so much that I will not be able to wait to bed you properly at home.”

  A strange thrill ripped through her. “Really?”

  He smiled. “Really.”

  She stared up at him with a combination of wonder and desire that nearly did Quinn in. It was clear she had no experience with men. But her desire had surfaced. She would be so sweet. He took a steadying breath. Bloody hell, could he wait until they reached Ardbuie and then home? It seemed an eternity before he’d be able to make love to his wife. He already suffered torment.

  As if to taunt him, she straightened, bumping her hip against his cock. Sweet agony tightened his bollocks and he feared he would spill his seed in his breeches. He kept his gaze straight ahead for the rest of the ride and forced himself to think about the stable roof that needed mending.

  Chapter Eight

  L ucy jarred awake. She blinked, disoriented. A low fire burned in the hearth on the opposite wall instead of to her right, and she lay in a four-poster bed with heavy dark curtains swagged between the posts, instead of the short postered bed in her room. Where was she?

  The mattress dipped. She looked over her shoulder and started at sight of a man’s broad back. She bolted upright and screamed. The man leapt to his feet and faced her. The scream died on her lips. Heaven help her. The man was her husband and he was… She swallowed.

  He was naked.

  Understanding spread across his features. “Forgive me, Lucy. I should have realized I might startle you.”

  She couldn’t look away from his manhood. It jutted upward. It pulsed.

  “What happened?”

  “What?” he said, then he began to laugh.

  She yanked her gaze to his face. “It is alive?”

  His mouth twitched and she saw the same devilry in his eyes she’d glimpsed earlier.

  “You might say that.” He pulled the blanket back and slipped into bed beside her.

  Lucy sat motionless, clutching the sheet to her breast.

  He pushed up on an elbow. “Do you plan to sit like that all night?”

  “Like what?”

  “Sitting upright.”

  She didn’t move and Quinn was sure she was considering doing just that.

  Quinn studied her. “Did you enjoy riding here with me?”

  She frowned. “That is a strange question.”

  “Not really. I think you liked the kiss.”

  Her gaze dropped to the blanket. “Oh.”

  “Would you like to do that again?”

  To his satisfaction, her eyes snapped up to meet his. He read apprehension…and curiosity. Still, she was a complete innocent.

  “If you’d rather wait…” He let the words drop off.

  Wait? He was suggesting they not consummate their marriage? The marriage wasn’t truly legal until they did. Lucy recalled the furtive looks the maids had sent her way when they’d helped her bathe, then made a great fuss as they’d ushered her into the bed. They knew exactly what lay ahead for her in her husband’s bed. If they found no blood on the sheet in the morning they would know they hadn’t consummated their marriage. Another thought struck. What if they believed that the lack of blood meant she wasn’t a virgin? Worse, when the maids did see the blood at a later date and would know for sure her husband hadn’t bedded her.

  Pride piqued. A man was supposed to deflower his wife on their wedding night.

  “You don’t want me?”

  He rolled onto his back and threw the covers back to reveal his erection. “Does that look like I don’t want you?”

  “I…” She couldn’t finish.

  She’d never seen anything quite like it. She understood the mechanics of what transpired between a man and a woman, and she was suddenly certain this just wouldn’t work.

  “Lucy.”

  She blinked and yanked her gaze onto his face. Good Lord, she’d been staring at his… Would she ever live down her boldness?

  “I promise, we will fit well together.” He smiled.

  She drew a sharp breath. He knew what she’d been thinking. Lucy threw herself back onto the bed and yanked the sheet over her face. He chuckled. The mattress dipped and she realized he was scooting closer.

  He put an arm around her waist and pulled her back flush against his chest. She wore a thin nightrail—too thin—she realized, for the warmth of his body penetrated the fabric and she felt overheated. And his manhood pressed against her back. Was it supposed to be so hard? Why had she agreed to this?

  She tensed when he dropped a kiss to her neck. He kissed her again and slid his mouth down to her shoulder. She shivered. When he flicked his tongue against the hollow where neck met shoulder, the juncture between her legs tightened. But she was left no time to ponder the reaction, for he pressed warm kisses up her neck to the pulse point beneath her ear. Butterflies skittered across the insides of her stomach. Oh my, that was nice. She hadn’t realized the flesh on her neck was so sensitive. When he kissed her that way it made her feel tingly all over. Surely this was the work of the devil?

  His arm tightened around her waist and he drew her closer to him…to that monster digging into her back. Monster?
>
  “Do you trust me?” He gently nipped her flesh.

  Lucy drew in a shaky breath. She hadn’t considered the question. She trusted her father, and he had allowed her to marry this man. A woman was supposed to trust her husband. She was frightened of what lay ahead but, she wanted more of what he was doing.

  “Aye,” she whispered, and prayed he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.

  He smiled against her skin and she was oddly gratified that she had pleased him.

  He pushed to his knees. “Come on, then.”

  He grasped her arms and pulled her to a kneeling position beside him. The sheet fell to her lap. His gaze dropped to her breasts and she was aware of her nipples rubbing the fabric of her shift. Was he supposed to be staring at her like that?

  He grasped the hem of her shift and pulled it upward. Lucy gasped, but was forced to lift her arms as he dragged the shift over her head. She snatched the covers and yanked them over her naked body.

  Quinn lay back on the mattress and pulled her against his chest. The blanket lay between her breasts and his chest, but her thighs made contact with his and it seemed the heat from his body seared her. This was very strange. He wrapped his arm around her bare arm. She’d never experienced a man’s hands on her naked arms. Her cheek rested against his chest, and she became aware of the steady beat of his heart. A sense of safety wound through her.

  Her eyes closed and she begin to melt against him. Quinn rolled onto his side facing her and she snuggled against his shoulder. He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She shifted, exposing her mouth, and he kissed her languidly, his tongue stroking, teasing. When he drew back, she reached for the back of his head to pull him close again. He gave a low laugh as he grasped the blanket and pulled it away so that their skin touched.

  Before she realized his intent, Quinn rolled onto her. Her mind whirled with the myriad of sensations of his muscled thighs against her softer legs, his chest pressing down on her breasts, his manhood pressing her stomach in a way that made her shiver…

  He covered her mouth with his. This time, when he flicked his tongue against her lips she opened immediately. His tongue thrust inside her mouth and she tentatively sparred with him. He groaned and the sound made her feel oddly vulnerable. He broke the kiss and slid his mouth along her jaw, neck, then—she gasped. He was continuing downward to the rise of her breast. Surely, he wouldn’t go farther? But he did. When his warm lips brushed her nipple, need spiked between her legs and she flushed warm. To her shock, he suckled. But the shock receded and pleasure streaked from her breast to her sex.

  She couldn’t concentrate, but knew only the weight of his body on hers, the warmth of his mouth on her breast and the need growing in that secret place between her legs.

  He placed a knee between her legs and gently parted her thighs to that he could settle between them. His manhood lay heavy on her mons and she realized why he’d asked her if she trusted him. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would have to trust a man when he bedded her. But this was so much more than she’d considered. She was completely exposed. He shifted and she tensed when the head of his length probed her intimately. She closed her eyes. Gently, he nudged until the tip of his manhood fitted to her entrance.

  Oh, she never dreamed—

  “You asked why I married you.”

  Quinn’s voice—the words—yanked her from the strange haze that blanketed her mind. Her heart, she realized, beat madly.

  He levered onto his elbows and stared down at her. How could he meet her gaze when they were joined as they were?

  “You asked why I married you,” he repeated.

  Lucy feared she couldn’t answer, but blurted, “Because you didn’t want me to dance with another man.”

  “You are a cheeky wench,” he said with mock sternness, but she recognized the pleasure in his eyes. His expression softened. “Aye, there is much truth to that. I cannot abide you dancing with another man.”

  “Why?”

  He gave a sheepish grin. “I imagine that when a man can’t stand the thought of another man dancing with a particular woman, it means he loves her.”

  “Loves her?” Lucy repeated. “But you do not know me.”

  Quinn shrugged. “We are remedying that now.” He stared solemnly. “Do you trust me?”

  She nodded without hesitation.

  He grasped her hands, stretched them over her head, and entwined his fingers with hers. “Then hold on tight, lass.”

  Lucy curled her fingers into his. He drew back and drove inside her in one mighty thrust. A deep pinching ripped through her.

  He didn’t move. “Are you well?”

  She wasn’t sure. The pain had disappeared almost as quickly as it came. Still, he felt impossibly large inside of her and she had no idea what she should do. He looked at her so earnestly that she couldn’t let him worry.

  “I am fine,” she said.

  He hesitated, then slowly withdrew. Lucy wasn’t certain what to make of the sensations. He thrust again, slowly, this time, then pulled back and thrust again. She wondered how many times he would do this when pleasure rippled through her. He kissed her and thrust his tongue into her mouth in a way that mimicked the movement between her legs. Desire spread through her. She wanted this man. Wanted what he was doing to her. She instinctively knew there was so much more than this. This…she released a breath and arched her hips to meet his thrusts.

  He moved faster. Her heart beat an erratic rhythm. Quinn nuzzled her ear and nipped at her lobe. A sizzling shiver raced down her arms, her body, her breasts, puckering her nipples. He nibbled more. She tried to pull her hands free, but he held tight, thrusting faster and—she gasped—harder. She felt as though she approached a precipice. A haze muddled her brain. Her fingers tightened convulsively on his. He pushed her further, higher. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted to crawl inside his skin. She had no idea such feelings existed.

  Pleasure unexpectedly shot through her. Her secret place spasmed.

  He groaned with pleasure, then thrust again, slowly, then again and again as her pleasure receded. His weight came down on her fully. Their hearts pounded in rhythm for several beats before he slid to the side and pulled her into his arms. He released a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against her breasts. She’d had no idea the wonders of lovemaking.

  “Is it always like that?” she asked.

  He nuzzled her neck. “Only with you, love.”

  Chapter Nine

  C hastity shifted in her seat at the bay window and turned her attention from the Gledstone garden to her family gathered in the blue parlor. Late morning sun streamed through the windows, adding to the cheerful mood in the room. Lucy and her husband had unexpectedly returned this morning to retrieve Lucy’s belongings. They sat on the small divan near the hearth. Quinn’s eyes rarely strayed from her. The man was clearly smitten. Chastity had known that of the four daughters of the Duke of Roxburgh, Lucy was likely to have the least trouble finding a husband. Still, Chastity hadn’t expected her to wed for at least two more years. But there she was, married to the Devil of Delny, and she glowed with happiness.

  Three days had passed since the wedding, and Chastity felt certain she would never get used to Lucy being gone. But it mattered not. Lucy was made for marriage. Soon, she would have children, and her days would be filled with diapers, babies crying in the night, their first words, then their first steps. An unexpected ache squeezed her heart. Lucy would be overjoyed. If their father had his way, Olivia and Jessica would marry this month, as well. Would they be as fortunate as Lucy?

  Sir Stirling stood near the hearth chatting with Lucy and Quinn. Chastity had given thanks a thousand times that Quinn had turned out to be a good man. But what were the chances Sir Stirling could—or would—find men as well suited to Olivia and Jessica? He had yet to tell them which sister would be matched next, or who the man was.

  As if reading her mind, he turned his gaze to her.
Her pulse beat rapidly. The man had an uncanny way of seeming to know just what she was thinking. He said something to Quinn and Lucy, then started across the room. She groaned inwardly. Heaven help her, he was a seer. Go away, she willed him, but he kept coming. She guessed he wasn’t all that good a seer, after all. Who was this man who had managed to match her sister so well? A thought struck. She’d never thought to ask where had her father found him.

  He reached her and settled on the seat beside her. “You are looking beautiful today, my lady.”

  Chastity refrained from rolling her eyes.

  “You must admit they are happy.” He stretched out his legs.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Lucy is a very sweet girl. I am not surprised you chose her first.”

  He arched a brow. “Indeed?”

  “Yes, any man would be pleased to have her.”

  “But not so with your other two sisters?”

  She scowled. “That isn’t what I said.”

  “Ah.” He gave a nod.

  “You are purposely baiting me,” she said.

  “Me?” He grinned. “Never.”

  Chastity regarded him. “I think you are a far worse rogue than that young man who married my sister.”

  “That only means I’m interesting, my lady.”

  She snorted. “I doubt that.”

  His smile broadened. “Never fear. We have our whole lives for you to learn just how interesting I am.”

  ###

  We hope you liked the first book in the Marriage Maker series. Here’s a sneak peek at the next book The Marriage Wager.

  Sue-Ellen and Tarah

  The Marriage Wager

  He lost at cards, but won at love…

  Buccaneer Frasier Gordon is lucky at cards, and keeps a woman in every port. The stakes in a card game turn high, when his old friend Sir Stirling James wagers the hand of a dukes’ daughter against the fastest frigate in Scotland.