His eyes connect with Thomas, and a look passes between them. “We will discuss this matter at Cranningford next week,” says Thomas smoothly. “That is, assuming the celebration is still planned?”
“Of course!” interjects Lady Helena, her smile seeking to overcompensate for the tension between the two men. “We must celebrate your birthday, Thomas, especially now you have a young bride with you!”
Thomas nods. “Then we shall be pleased to join you, won’t we, Lydia?”
“Very much so,” I say in a rushed whisper.
“We will come directly to your estate after our bridal tour, seeking to arrive on the Friday of this coming week.” Thomas takes a small sip of his drink, watching William’s responses carefully.
“We are very much looking forward to it,” says Lady Helena. “And now you must not let us dominate you on this special day! Please, do go and enjoy your guests.”
We retreat with a smile, Thomas still gripping my hand with intent. My gaze meets his, and relief washes over me.
“Are you happy, my love?” he asks, his face serious.
“Yes!” I exclaim. “I confess that I have never been so happy. Thank you for managing Lord William.”
“From this day onward, I vow that I always will,” he says, leaning down to kiss the nape of my neck.
“Put her down, Thomas. You will have plenty of time to take possession of young Lydia.” A woman’s voice interrupts the sensual graze of his mouth, and we both turn to meet its owner. I am rather startled to see the countess standing before us. Although I have assumed her attendance at the ceremony, I had not actually seen her until this moment.
“Mother,” replies Thomas; his tone is not cold, and yet it sounds guarded.
I look between them both, wanting desperately to mend this rift which I have helped to create.
“Thank you so much for joining us,” I say, hoping my voice carries the genuine feeling I sense.
She stares at me, her steely eyes finally thawing. “Lydia, congratulations, my dear.” Moving in toward me, she plants a kiss against my cheek. “You do look lovely.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, amazed at the unexpected compliment.
“Thomas,” she says, turning her attention to her son. “I regret our quarrel, and do not wish for it to continue. I should like to send you away on your bridal tour with peace between us.”
My heart skips at her words, my own gaze turning to Thomas for his reaction.
“We also seek the peace you speak about,” he says, reaching for her right hand. “Does this mean that Lydia and I have your blessing?”
She pauses, her lips pursed as she replies. “Give me some time, Thomas. Your betrothal has come of something of a shock to me, but yes—in time—I believe that you will.”
“Thank you, My Lady!” I answer, genuinely pleased to hear the words.
“Indeed,” says Thomas warmly. “I do hope that you will stay on at Markham whilst we are away?”
“Yes, I think I will,” she says. “When are you planning to leave?”
Thomas checks his timepiece and glances over at me. “Actually, in truth, not so long from now. We had better ready ourselves, Lydia.”
I nod my understanding. “Very well, then I will take my leave of you, My Lady,” I say to the countess, and politely I make my way to my rooms to find Lucy.
“My Lady!” she exclaims, as I enter my room. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Lucy,” I say, moving toward her. “Lord Markham wishes to depart soon. Is everything prepared?”
“Yes, My Lady,” she says. “Your travel bags are packed, and Buckton has already taken them down.”
I smile, pleased with her usual efficiency. “And you, Lucy?” I ask. “Are you also prepared?”
“Yes, My Lady. Buckton and I will travel behind you as we did when we last travelled to Ripley.” She pauses, watching me. “Are you excited? Has His Lordship revealed where you shall spend the bridal tour?”
I shake my head. “He refuses,” I sigh with frustration. “I have given up asking him!”
She smiles. “I am certain he will not disappoint you, My Lady.”
I nod in agreement, and as we leave my room, I give it one last fleeting glance, wondering if I will return here once the bridal tour is completed.
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Wedding Night
It takes us some time to work our way through the crowds of well-wishers at Markham Hall, but once we eventually do, my husband and I find ourselves finally alone. As our carriage pulls away and the final gesture of farewell is complete, we settle back against the bench, my hand smothered in his hot digits.
“Now that we are married, I can finally sit with you at my side,” he says, as though he is musing aloud.
“I am glad,” I say, turning to my right to see his smile. “I confess I much prefer it.”
“As do I,” he says, drawing me toward him, so that our bodies are in constant contact. “May I congratulate you, Lady Markham, on your recent marriage to the devilishly charming Thomas!”
I cannot help but laugh at his words. It is the first time I have heard my new name, and I truly like the sound of it. “Lady Markham?” I repeat excitedly. “I am truthfully your wife then, sir?”
“Mmmm,” he says, nuzzling into me. “Our vows are said, and our cake is cut, but there is one more deed which must be enacted before I can say that I am truly your husband.”
A shiver of energy makes its way down my back, pooling between my legs. “To what do you refer, My Lord?” I ask, widening my eyes in feigned innocence.
His right hand claws at the fastenings of my bonnet, pulling them loose so that his digits may make their way into my hair. I shut my eyes at the contact, relishing the feeling of his hand against me. “Oh, I think you know, My Lady,” he says, his voice little more than a growl.
My eyes fly open at the sound, and I find that we are nose to nose, his hot breath warming the front of my neck. The sudden intensity is startling, but oh so desirable, and all I can think is how much I want to be his. “Will you make me yours, Thomas?” I whisper.
“Oh, yes, sweet Lydia,” he purrs. “I will claim and possess every part of you. Now that you are mine, I will love you completely.”
I am almost panting at his words, and yet the thought causes some anxiety. “Thomas, I…” I pause, feeling the frown cross my face.
“Lydia,” he says breathily. “What is wrong?”
I see the concern in those deep green eyes, and I want so much to alleviate it. “Do not worry,” I say. “It is just that I have no experience of these things, Thomas, and—I do not want to disappoint you…”
He chuckles, that deep sound resonating within me in the most profound way. “Oh, my love,” he says, kissing my nose. “You will not disappoint. You will be loved, and owned and cherished.”
I close my eyes briefly, pressing my forehead against his. “I want to be all of those things,” I reply.
“Good,” he soothes. “Let’s rest now. We have a long journey ahead, and a long night of love to come after that.”
I smile, giggling at his statement, but when he holds out his arms, I go gladly between them, resting myself against his hot, hard torso. I watch the light fade from the carriage window, and sure enough, the heat of Thomas and the excitement of the day soon overwhelm me.
* * *
I am roused some time later as Thomas moves behind me, and open my eyes to see quite a different vantage from the window. Stirring, I move forward to gaze at the new view, surmising at once that we are no longer in the country.
“Thomas?” I enquire, turning to face my husband. “Is this London? Have you brought me back home?”
His brow raises at my question, yet he smiles as he stretches his long limbs out in the place I had been sleeping. “Well, my love, yes, this is London, but it is not the earl’s townhouse to which we are destined.”
I gape at him with some excite
ment, pressing my face close to the glass to try to ascertain our whereabouts. The streets are as dark and dirty as I recall, and yet very soon I see us making our way into a much finer part of the city. After a moment, we approach the lights of a large building, and the carriage at last comes to a halt. The door is opened on Thomas’ side, and we are met by a very smart-looking footman. “Good evening, My Lord,” says the man, dipping his head in deference. “May I be the first to welcome you to the Mivart Hotel. Please, do come inside, and I will arrange for your bags to follow you.”
He retreats with grace, and Thomas turns to me, grinning. “Do you know where you are now, Lydia?”
“The Mivart?” I say, open-mouthed. I have heard rumours of the unrivalled distinction of this hotel, yet even my family have never stayed here.
He smiles. “You are pleased with your husband’s choice?” he says jovially.
“I am stunned, My Lord,” I say, watching him climb down the steps and extend a hand to me.
I follow him, taking my first step into the city for some weeks. The building before us is a massive, towering architecture, which resembles a number of fine-looking terrace properties linked together. I follow Thomas toward the grand-looking entrance. We pass inside, and are met by more hotel staff who seek to welcome us.
“Congratulations, Lord and Lady Markham,” says one mature-looking gentleman. “Your suite is prepared and waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” replies Thomas, squeezing my hand. “Please ensure our luggage is brought up to the suite as soon as you can.”
The man nods, smiling. “Of course, My Lord,” he says. “Here is the key to your room; James will show you the way there.”
He gestures toward the second gentleman, who nods and moves away. We follow him, and I trail behind a little, absorbing the splendour of the exclusive foyer. We are led directly to our room, and finally I am left alone in the hotel with my new husband.
“How do you like my surprise?” asks Thomas, as he closes the door.
My eyes scan the huge scale of the room. Dressed in light fabrics and soft furnishings, the space is primarily dominated by a gigantic four-poster bed in the centre, but is also host to other fine-looking pieces. I gaze back to him, unable to hide my pleasure. “It is wonderful, Thomas,” I say. “Thank you!”
He moves toward me, pressing himself against my body. “I want our first night as man and wife to be one to remember,” he purrs, gazing down at me.
I swallow hard at the intensity in his eyes, aware of the excited energy simmering within me.
A knock on the door startles us, but Thomas moves quickly toward the large double doors, greeting the concierge who has already brought our bags. “Please place them inside,” says Thomas, gesturing for the man to enter.
I move toward the bed as he passes inside and places the pieces on the waiting luggage racks. “There is a call bell, sir,” he says, “if there is anything else you should need. Please do not hesitate to ring.”
I turn my attention to the bell on the wall to which he refers, and both Thomas and I nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” replies my husband, ushering him out of the suite.
With the door closed and the lock in place, he turns, a fiendish-looking smile spreading across his lips. “And now, finally, my love…” he murmurs, as he paces back toward me. “We are alone.”
I risk a small smile, feeling the rhythm of my heart accelerating at the sight of him. He removes his dark coat, the tails dragging across the plush carpeted floor as he throws it onto a waiting chair. “Shall we draw a bath?” he asks softly. “I should very much like to bathe together.”
I flush at the mere idea. “Together?” I gasp. “Thomas, surely such a thing is… improper?”
The gentle sound of laughter leaves his lips. “Lydia,” he chuckles. “You are my wife; how can anything between us be improper?”
I drop my eyes as I consider his words, and then look back to his smiling face. “Should I ring for someone to draw the bath?” I ask tentatively.
“No,” he says definitely, already striding toward the door through which the bathtub waits. “I will do so.”
“But, Thomas,” I protest, following him. “Lords should not have to endure such menial chores! Please, let me?”
As I walk inside the enormous marbled bathroom however, I find him already running water into the huge white roll-topped tub. I stop, agog for one moment. Running water is a considerable luxury, even to someone like me, and the grandeur of this room is simply breath-taking. Thomas turns as I enter, one hand resting on his hip. “You are not arguing with me, are you, wife?” His tone is light and mocking, and yet the change of tack excites me.
“No, My Lord,” I say, backing away to the door as the water continues to run. “I merely sought to make myself useful to you?”
A familiar wicked grin spreads over his handsome face. “Oh, you will be useful to me, my love,” he chuckles. “But not by performing domestic chores.”
All at once he is right next to me, and I am forced to look upward to gaze into his eyes. “What should I do?” I enquire, feeling the palpable energy coursing through me.
A flash of something delicious passes over his complexion as he considers my question. “I believe,” he says slowly, “that a wife should bring her husband pleasure. Do you agree, Lydia?”
I know his question is a web which he dares me to enter, and that Thomas is the spider waiting in the middle. Never before has a fly been so keen to step into the spider’s web.
“I do agree, My Lord,” I say, swallowing even as I reply.
His right hand sweeps north to my face, and offers gentle caresses as he speaks. “Then I should ask that you do so for me now, my love. Strip for me, I would like to see what is mine.”
I gulp at his words, loving the domineering inference in them. Obeying at once, I step out of my slippers and remove the cape from around me. He moves to my back, assisting me with the fastenings of my gown, and then helps me draw the dress downward. The beautiful fabric pools at once at my feet, and I am left standing in only my thin petticoats, the stay having been ignored on this special day. With nervous fingers, I pull the binds which secure the petticoats to my waist, and finally I am nude in front of him.
Thomas circles me, smiling. It is not the first time that I have been naked in front of him, but now I am his wife—I am truly his.
“I must confess, my love,” he croons. “I have never seen such an impeccable vision as you.”
I gasp at the compliment, the vulnerability of my position serving only to fuel the growing desire pooling between my thighs. “My Lord,” I say, but he silences me by pressing one of his long fingers to his lips.
“Hush now,” he says, circling me. As he moves he trails a finger over my nudity. I feel his touch at my shoulder, and then my hip, and my nipples bead in an almost instinctive manner. I swallow, my mouth parting as he concludes his circle and comes to stand in front of me.
“We shall bathe together,” he says sensually. “And then I shall have you pleasure me with your mouth.”
I pause, trying not to let the enormity of what he says overwhelm me. “But, Thomas, I…”
“Shhh,” he reminds me. “I will guide you.”
I nod, frowning, but willing to trust his word.
He moves back toward the tub, adjusting the temperature of the water, before he too begins to remove his clothing. As he unties his cravat, the thought occurs to me that despite his knowledge of my nakedness, I have never actually seen him nude before. A rush of exhilaration passes over me as he takes a seat beside the tub and removes his shoes.
As he stands, we make eye contact, and he moves toward me, smiling. “Come here,” he says huskily.
I approach him, all too aware of my exposed body, but uniquely I do not wish to conceal it. Instead I desire to offer it to him. My gift to him will be my body, and my eagerness to learn how to please him. By the time I am next to him, I am p
anting, utterly unable to control my breathing.
“Undo the buttons of my shirt, Lydia,” he commands.
Unthinkingly I obey, as if compelled by his very essence. I fiddle with the three fasteners, until his chest is exposed, and he shuffles out of the fabric in front of me. All at once I am face to face with his bare chest, a broad expanse of toned muscle, covered in soft, dark hair. I gaze up to find his waiting smile. “Climb in the tub, my love.”
I want so badly to touch the soft hair just beyond my face, but not wishing to upset him, I shift to my left, toward the nearly full tub, which presses against my hip. Feeling the weight of his stare burning into my flesh, I look over my shoulder to see his encouraging face. “Now, Lydia,” he prompts me, his voice laced with just enough edge to make me move.
I raise my right leg and plunge my foot into the filled tub. Soon enough I climb in entirely, and submerge myself into the glorious, cleansing water.
“How fabulous you look!” he exclaims, and I turn to my right, once again absorbing his bare-chested form. “Yet, you do look a little lonely in that large tub. Should I join you, my love?”
I hear my voice catch in my throat as I try to reply. “Yes, please, My Lord…”
His fingers are at the waistband of his breeches even before I can conclude the sentence. With just a few movements, the garment is unfastened, and he steps out of them, to reveal his body in all its naked glory.
I cannot draw my eyes from his nude form. He turns, slowly moving his clothing to the waiting chair, almost as though he is deliberately giving me a show. I see the ripe cheeks of his behind as he bends to place the garments down. I think I hold my breath, watching him as if in slow motion as he spins back to face the bath. Being a true Regency lady and a maiden, I have never seen such a sight before. His manhood is long and surprisingly thick, and looks already eager to join me in the tub. He moves toward the long length of the tub where I have just entered, and presses his organ proudly over the edge. I know I gasp at the proximity.
“Thomas?” I say, gaping at its sheer size.
Taming Lady Lydia Page 29