The Nuisance Wife

by Camille Oster

  "You are so very sure," she said.

  "About going to Paris?"

  "About what you want."

  "Yes. I am sure."

  How she wished she felt it. It wasn't that she doubted his sincerity, or even his ability to be a good husband. He would give as much as she would accept. It wasn't that she was afraid—it was more than her battered heart hurt being filled up again. These emotions between them were so very big, and the scars took some time to stretch.

  "I do love you," she could hear herself saying, not quite sure why. It was the truth. She’d never stopped, and perhaps that was the reason she'd been so cautious.

  Caius was quiet for a moment, his face in darkness. "I never stopped loving you, although there were times I would have cut it out if I could have. While there are many things I regret, I don’t regret being here with you right now."

  A blush stained her cheeks and her heart ached, another scar being stretched. The worst of them had perhaps been dealt with, but the sweetness made up for the pain.

  With his hand, he reached for her, drawing her into a kiss. Warm lips met hers, the familiar taste of him compelling, smooth and exciting. It deepened and they melted together. Her insides awoke and a quickening of desire flared, wanting to feel every part of him to her. His tongue stroked hers as he explored her mouth, slowly and gently.

  A slow exhale escaped her lips as the kiss broke. A deep, heady energy flowed down into her very bones. Her body recognized the man she’d loved, still loved. If he kissed her like that, she would agree to just about anything, but they were seen. In darkness, but seen by the others lingering in the cool air of the veranda.

  Still, she couldn't pull away from him, her hands lingered on his stomach, feeling the material of his shirt and his firm body underneath.

  "One dance and I’m putty in your hands," she said, her voice a little shaky. "I really am disturbingly easy to woo. My mother would be ashamed of me if she found me kissing the first man I danced with."

  "Ah, I see what you mean, but rest assured that this man is more than grateful. Yes, I suppose you need to be careful, because I have now come to expect a kiss after every dance."

  "Have you now? That is awfully presumptuous."

  "Some would say hopeful."

  Hopeful might not be the right word. She didn't know what was because her lips ached for another kiss, another taste of him. The fire lit in her belly. Desire. It had been so long since she’d felt it, because it had been twinned with longing, which she’d strictly forbidden herself from feeling. But she longed for him, for his touch, his lips, his heart.

  Without letting her thoughts or fears intrude, she stepped closer and claimed another kiss. Sweet and soft, deepening with every passing moment. Energy flowed between them, coursing through every part of her body. She wanted more. Her lungs burned for air, but she wanted the kiss more. Finally she had to break it, her breath shaky as she tried to breathe again.

  "Now it is definitely dangerous to steal a kiss from the first man you dance with. It might…"

  "It might what?"

  "Test his restraints. And it might prime him to be tortured by your mere presence for the rest of the night. Every touch, scent and look would be sheer agony."

  Another kiss came crashing down on her lips, harsh this time, filled with desire. It urged deeper into her mouth, claiming more than exploring. His lips moving on hers, his tongue reaching deeper, stroking along hers. His arms held her tight and she felt every part of him, caught in sheer desire. A moan reverberated through her mouth and down into her body.

  She groaned as the kiss broke, her body on fire. Deep in her belly, she ached for him, for his touch, for him coming to her in a way a husband did. She wanted the pleasure he could give her; she burned for it.

  "I am utterly failing at this courting adventure," she stated. "I shamelessly want you at a society ball where every tattling matron in the country is roaming not far away. I only managed one dance. I am deeply disappointed with myself."

  The smile was impossible to stop as he reached up and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Was her hair coming undone too?

  "I have to admit such kisses do stop men from seeing reason. Come," he said.

  "Come where?"

  "Into the darkness, where a young woman should absolutely not go with the first man she dances with." His hand reached for hers, softly threading his fingers between hers. And she wanted the touch, she wanted their coming together in every profound way possible. Her lips ached for more, her body was on fire. She wanted him inside her.

  "Someone will see us sneak away," she whispered.

  "And they will be jealous." Gently, he tugged on her hand and urged her toward the stairs leading down into the garden. "For I steal away the prettiest girl at the ball."

  Her feet felt as if they were floating as he led her from the veranda. If someone saw, she didn't know, or really cared. It was more her own determination that they have a slow courtship that she was utterly failing at, but desire flowed through every part of her.

  He took her to the greenhouse, which was utterly dark. The door gave and he stepped inside, him just a shape in the darkness as he turned back to her, his arm holding the door open. "There won't be chaste kisses inside this door," he said as if warning her. His voice caressed down her spine, settling deep in her belly, where she wanted him most.

  If she stepped inside, the distance between them would be gone. She would be accepting him in entirety, as he husband, her companion and her friend. And that distance they’d had between them couldn’t be brought back—but did she want it to be? Was this desire not heavenly? Was being the one that basked in his attention not the best thing in the world? He would be hers and she would be his.

  Tentatively, she took a step inside and he closed the door. It was quiet inside, as if they’d shut themselves away. Only a drop of water somewhere was heard, as if there was heavy anticipation in the air. Her body had grown heavy, her pulse beating steadily, through every part of her.

  It was too dark for them to be seen. They were in essence alone, but there was no pretense of distance now. This was a man and a woman who loved each other and they were going to enact that union. In a grossly inappropriate manner and place, many would say. Right now, she didn't care about place or comfort. All she needed was seclusion.

  "Caius," she said breathily. It broke the distance between them and he came to her. His lips and hands seeking her, her seeking him. The taste of him suffused her mind again, sweeping away everything that had been. It was him and her now, and nothing else mattered.

  His hand at her neck, deepened the kiss as he drew her to him, her body molding to his, every taut plane and muscle of him. He led her somewhere, back until she felt something behind her, a potting table. Slipping up, she drew her knees up around him, feeling more of him to her, his hardness to her most sensitive part.

  Sensations spiraled up her body, culminating with the draw from his lips, his hands. His warm hand roamed over the soft material of her dress, over the mound of her breast. How she wished it wasn't there, but it would be too cumbersome to take it off, and they were in too much of a hurry, because as his hips ground to hers, the heat inside her had roared into a fire.

  At the same time, she had to feel him to her, and her sense faltered utterly as his lips stroked down the side of her neck, while his hips undulated to hers. "Please," she whispered, drawing her skirt up so her thighs were utterly revealed. Her damned undergarments were in the way, but he tugged them down and beneath her backside.

  His breath was harsh and labored as he worked, returning to her as she was bare for him. Quickly unbuttoning his breeches, and then his tip was at her entrance, pushing in. It hurt because it had been so long, but she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It was impossibly sweet, the sensation so heady, she didn't know what to do with it. It radiated out through every part of her body and she groaned with the pleasure.

  Her tender insides took every inch of h
im, stretching her to a fullness her body recalled. Her breath faltered as she held him to her. The pleasure was so very pointed, so sharp, she feared it would hurt, but the pain never came, only tension building higher. Pleasure reverberating through her every time he drew out and pushed in. It was like a storm that ebbed and surged, building higher and faster, gathering in intensity.

  Her release started, waves of exquisite pleasure, moans escaping her with each one as he ground harder to her, until his body tensed. A moment of stillness until he quickened and released deep inside her, surges that brought renewed waves of pleasure for her.

  Slowly they eased and shaky breath returned. His body shook with the last vestiges of his release. Senses were starting to reform and she sighed deeply with a deep sense of satisfaction. It felt almost a little like she’d been holding her breath all this time, to finally breathe easily.

  Her arms refused to let him go and they stayed as they were for a moment as reality returned and she fully accepted that she’d just made love to Caius in someone's greenhouse, during a ball. Certainly not how she’d intended the evening to go, but she couldn't stop herself smiling.

  Yes, her decision to keep him at arm's length, to slowly find themselves to each other had completely gone out the window. Perhaps it had been unrealistic.

  Even so, she didn’t regret what they’d just done. It felt so very right. They were together, in the way they could be, or perhaps couldn't help but to be.

  "Is my hair horrid?" she asked.

  "It is…" he said. "It's been worse."

  There was reassurance if she’d ever heard it, she thought wryly. Luckily there was usually a maid available for such emergencies, like those produced by impromptu trysts in some dark corners. She really was a shocking guest—and not much to brag about as a chaperone as poor Jane had been entirely deserted. Hopefully Octavia was keeping an eye on her. Alright, maybe she was a little ashamed at the lack of fortitude she’d just shown. Had folded like wet paper—but she didn't regret it.

  Chapter 38:

  "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Octavia demanded when Caius returned to the ballroom. "You look flustered. Where's Eliza?"

  "I believe she’s sought the powder room," Caius said and surveyed the dancers. With Eliza out of the room, he lost interest completely.

  "Is that so?" Octavia said. "Is she by chance looking a bit flustered too?"

  "I couldn't possibly say," Caius said without inflection.

  "I'm sure you couldn't."

  Julius approached. "That girl is dancing with every man in the room."

  "I told you she would charm them."

  "Well, with any luck, we'll have her married off before the night is over so we can have our house back."

  "Don't be ungenerous, Julius," Octavia chided. "Ah, there's Eliza. My, she is rosy-cheeked tonight."

  The youngest part of him wanted to tell her to shut up, but he was no longer the young man who squabbled with his siblings. Mostly.

  "How is Jane?" Eliza asked when she arrived.

  "Dancing up a storm."

  "Oh, good. I hope she's having a splendid time."

  "Who is she, anyway?" Julius asked. "We know nothing about her, other than she is an orphan."

  "She is our new illustrator. Incredibly gifted."

  "Oh, that's lovely," Octavia said. "I adore people with talents. Don't you, Julius?"

  Julius harrumphed. "How does one get some refreshments at this damned thing?"

  "More importantly, have you managed to scribble your name on anyone's dance card yet?" Octavia asked.

  "Eliza, would you care to dance at some point?" Julius asked.

  "I'd be delighted."

  "See," Julius said pointedly to Eliza. "Until then, if you need me, I will be in the cards room."

  "We really cannot take him out of the house, can we?" Octavia complained.

  A man approached and nervously asked Octavia if he could claim one of her dances and she kept him waiting for a moment while she made up her mind. "Well, I actually think I will ignore Matthew for this coming dance if you are quick."

  The young man took that encouragement and led her onto the dance floor.

  "Octavia is toying with the young men, I see," Eliza said.

  "The worse she treats them, the more they seek her attention. Maybe that is true for all of us, but please don't take it to heart."

  All he wanted was to put his arm around her and draw her close, but it was inappropriate. He supposed they would have to stay to the end of the ball, or however long Jane had dancing partners.

  "Come back with us," he said after a moment of silence between them.

  "Your carriage will not fit five people."

  "Although if we leave early, it will have time to return for a second journey."

  "Don't think our courtship is over simply because you had your way with me," she said pointedly.

  "Maybe we could limit that courtship to say the hours before midnight?" he suggested.

  "Oh, you think that would be a good solution?"

  "I think that would be an excellent solution, else I will pine for you so deeply the angels will sigh for me."

  "You do have a way with words. It's surprising you haven't excelled more in the field of love letters. One must wonder." She was teasing him now.

  "I prefer my worship of your finest qualities to be more… physical."

  The arrival of Jane paused their banter. "It's incredibly hot," she said, her cheeks rosy and a slight sheen on her upper lip.

  "There is a veranda outside, but I wouldn't recommend it. It is known for stealing kisses."

  "Really?" Jane said without an ounce of understanding that it was jest.

  "Take Julius. You will be eminently safe with him," Caius recommended. "And he can glare at anyone who dares try to approach you."

  "I don't think he likes me."

  "Then you are in with every other person in the world."

  Octavia joined them as well. "That man stood on my foot. I swear they should be certified as being able to dance before they let them in, as we are at risk of life and limb here. Where has that man with the champagne gone? Shall we go in search for him."

  "It sounds like the best possible idea," Jane concurred.

  "Then what shall we do for the rest of the evening?" Caius asked. "Another dance perhaps?"

  "I don't know. I have promised the next dance to someone else," she said loftily.

  "You wound me." He stepped closer and kissed her on her hair. "But not as much as if you leave me to pine for you tonight. Come home with me." Or he would be at risk of standing outside her window and mooning like a lunatic. His body simply refused to be without her now. He wanted her there to talk to, to sit with, to love and to laugh. "We should renew our vows."

  "What?" she said, confused at how the topic had arisen. "You wish for us to wed again? That is awfully forward. One dance and you wish to wed?"

  "Apparently one dance is all it takes." He leaned closer. "One dance and you might be carrying our child right now." The idea was more exciting than he could articulate. Him, her and a child. A family. It seemed almost too good to be true.

  "I've made an utterly scandalous debutant," she lamented.

  "Luckily I have the best of intentions."

  "Then perhaps Paris in the spring?"

  "Spring? We can leave tomorrow."

  "No, what about Jane's debut? I promised her."

  "Octavia can guard her."

  "That is hardly suitable."

  "True. Julius will simply have to chaperone both of them. I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

  The mirth at the idea made her eyes shine, because they both knew Julius would lament the cruelty of the world at having to chaperone his sister and houseguest singlehandedly.

  “It will do him good,” Caius concluded. “If you don’t trust him, you can invite that woman you work with to stay with them.”

  "I think that wouldn’t do at all. She has two children, and I expect she would have
little tolerance for Julius.”

  "That may well be true. Or else, I could wait until spring, provided you come home with me tonight."

  "So we are negotiating now?"

  "No, that is utterly a pretense. At the end of the evening, I will heave you over my shoulder and carry you off. Fair warning."

  "Brute."

  "Now, don't be heartless and deny me this dance. And you shouldn’t let Julius use you to ignore his social obligations."

  Taking her by the hand, he led her onto the floor as the next dance was starting. By no means did he relish dancing, but doing so with Eliza made it utterly tolerable. And it discouraged anyone from coming over to speak to them. Because he'd much rather talk about what they should do in Paris than to people wanting to know what to do with their investments. Maybe he could convince her to go in two weeks, or maybe a Christmas wedding. Could anything be more perfect?

  Chapter 39:

  SNOW FELL OUTSIDE THE large window in the small Patisserie she’d taken refuge in from the cold. Paris was utterly beautiful in winter. There were few tourists and the street were sparse.

  Caius had told her he didn’t wish her to join him in one particular store he was visiting, and now she was curious as she waited for him to join her.

  “Un rafraîchissement pour madame?” a neatly dressed man asked, drawing her attention away from searching for Caius.

  She ordered a hot chocolate, and her mind was drawn to the whiskey filled chocolates she’d seen. Caius would much prefer that to the sweet concoction she was about to be served, but in all honestly, he’d rather have the whiskey without the chocolate.

  With a sigh, she turned her attention to the window and watched the streets outside. Cold emanated from the glass, but it was sufficiently warm in here. Her heart brightened when she saw him, a cold bluster making the snow whirl around him. He smiled when he saw her and her eyes followed him as he walked in through the door and took the seat opposite her.