By the time Alice and Fabian retired to his bedroom for the night, Alice was so exhausted and full, and her head spun with the wine she’d consumed, that she didn’t see how she could possibly live up to whatever plans Fabian had for their wedding night.
“You will simply have to ravish my slumbering body without my participation,” she said with a sigh, sitting on the bed, then flopping to her back, arms outstretched, eyes closed. “I don’t think I can move after the day this has been.”
“Oh, I’ll make you move, all right,” Fabian said in a low purr.
When he didn’t immediately join her on the bed, Alice opened one eye to peek at him. He’d taken a seat by the fire and was removing his boots. She giggled, remembering how difficult it had been to remove them the other night, a swirl of restless desire waking her up a bit. She pretended she was still too tired to move, but watched him all the same.
Fabian grinned at her, as if he knew she was coming alive but pretending not to, and tossed his boots aside. He stood, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat and tossing them carelessly aside as well. Heat infused Alice from head to toe, coalescing in her sex, as he tugged his shirt off over his head and went to work on the fastenings of his breeches. He made quick work of those as well, and within a minute, he was fully naked, clearly aroused, and stalking toward her.
Alice feigned a yawn and said, “Well, then, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, my love,” Fabian said, his voice suggesting anything but sleep.
He reached the edge of the bed and lifted her feet to remove her shoes, then slid his hands up her legs to loosen her garters and roll her thick stockings down. Alice shivered at the light brush of his hands against her calves, and even more when he traced lazy lines up her thighs, lifting the hem of her gown as he did. She resisted the urge to wriggle her legs wider and to give him easy access to the part of her that was now throbbing for him.
“I wonder what I can do to bring you pleasant dreams?” he went on, sensuality thick in his voice.
Alice answered by pretending to snore, but that clumsy sound turned into a gasp as he bunched her skirts around her waist, exposing her completely below the waist. It was all she could do not to throw her legs wide.
She was rewarded for her patience as he shifted closer to the bed, drawing circles on her knees, then hooking his fingers under them to tickle the sensitive skin there. It was surprisingly erotic, and Alice’s breath hitched at his touch.
She lost the ability to breathe entirely as he pulled her knees wide apart in a sudden and commanding move. The whisper of cool air against her hot sex left her moaning in anticipation, but he continued to take his time, driving her wild with desire as he dragged his fingernails slowly up her inner thighs. She could feel her sex weeping for him as he came closer and closer to touching her there and mewled in protest when he stopped just short.
“Sleeping Beauty was awakened with a kiss, wasn’t she?” he asked, a carnal rumble in his chest.
Alice sighed, “Perhaps.”
Fabian laughed low in his throat as he knelt beside the bed. For a split second, Alice was confused by the action, until he planted a sensual kiss on the inside of her thigh. She hummed at the sensation, gripping the bedclothes as he kissed her other inner thigh, slightly higher. He continued kissing her, coming closer and closer to her core, and Alice was suddenly glad she’d sat on the edge of the bed instead of climbing under the covers.
He tugged her hips closer as his kisses reached the apex of her thighs. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she instinctively moved her legs farther apart. When he brushed his tongue across her wet slit, she gasped and sighed.
“I told you Sleeping Beauty could be awakened with a kiss,” he purred, sliding his hands up to tease her inner folds.
Alice was beyond reply. He leaned toward her, teasing her with his tongue again before kissing and caressing her sex with his lips. It was the most shockingly sensual act she ever could have imagined, and it shot pleasure straight to her core. Her breath came in tight pants as he tasted her, his tongue stroking her. When he closed his mouth over her clitoris and gently sucked while circling her, she let out a wordless sound of pleasure that bordered on a sob.
Her body was primed and ready, and his ministrations were so expert, that she was throbbing with release in no time. Her orgasm hit hard and deep, even more so when he slipped two fingers inside of her to feel her body’s contractions. It felt so good to squeeze him, to come apart with pleasure, but in the back of her mind, she knew she wanted more.
Fabian rocked back, rising to his feet and leaning over her, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders. “Are you awake now, my bride?”
“Deliciously,” Alice answered with a smile.
“Then let’s get you out of this silly gown so that I can feast on your tits before fucking you until you scream.”
His words shouldn’t have aroused her so, but they did. She wriggled in more ways than one as he flipped her onto her stomach so that he could tug the ties of her gown, then pull it over her head. He rolled her back to her back and unlaced her stays, his brow knit in concentration as he undressed her. She should have done more to help him, but all she could think about was the bliss of submitting to him and letting him have his way with her. The Secrets of Love was right. Patience and submission were a glorious path to pleasure.
But she could only submit so much. As soon as Fabian discarded her chemise and repositioned her in the middle of the bed, as he bent to kiss her, she circled her hands around his hips, then closed them around his stiff cock and tight balls. He sucked in a breath, evidently surprised, then let out a deep sigh of pleasure.
“These are mine now,” Alice said with a grin, stroking him gently and rubbing her thumb over his tip.
“They are,” Fabian growled. “Yours and yours alone.”
“I promise I will treat them well,” she went on, mischief making her giggle. “And I’ll give them a good home.”
“I should say so,” he said, shifting position and lifting her hips so that he could drive home.
She sucked in a breath at the sudden invasion, making a sound of approval and pleasure. She squeezed around him, impatient for him to thrust within her until he found his release. But he still wasn’t in a hurry.
“I want to fill you with babies,” he hummed, bending down to kiss her. He balanced on one hand while caressing her breast with the other. “I want children laughing and running all around us and getting into as much trouble as we get into.”
“I want that too,” she sighed, arching her hips to encourage him to get on with the act of making them. “I want a life with you.”
“And you shall have it,” he said.
He began to move, slow and sensual at first, thrusting as deep as he could and driving Alice wild. He even went so far as to hook his arm under one of her legs, lifting it and twisting her into an impossible position that greatly increased her pleasure. It was only when he began to move faster that she realized why the position felt so familiar.
“You read my book,” she gasped, barely capable of words.
“And I intend to try out every pose it suggested,” he growled, thrusting faster.
Alice didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh or moan with pleasure. The sound that came out of her was a combination of all three. Her body was alive with coiling tension, and every one of Fabian’s powerful thrusts sent her closer and closer to the edge. The author of The Secrets of Love was a genius, as far as Alice was concerned, and as her body burst into a second, throbbing orgasm, she didn’t know whether to cry out Fabian’s name or to bless the author.
Fabian seemed equally impressed, and within seconds of the crashing wave of her orgasm, he tensed and cried out as he spilled his seed within her. The moment was one of such perfect bliss, the melding of two souls into one after hardship that she hadn’t been certain she could endure. The heat of love filled her even as the liquid sensation of spent passion overtook her, and when Fabian collapsed beside her, his
energy drained, she curled herself in his arms.
“I love you,” she sighed, her arms and legs entwined with his. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”
“And I love you,” he replied, panting and stroking the side of her face. “Beyond reason. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Alice smiled, a deep sense of peace filling her. She surged into him, kissing him with everything she had. She believed his promise, and she knew they would be happy and safe together for the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
The warm, Italian sun beat down on the veranda where Alice lay stretched out on a chaise that overlooked the glorious beauty of Fabian’s ancestral lands. The sunshine and balmy breezes of Tuscany were heaven after the stress and gloom of England. Alice smiled at the faded pages of The Secrets of Love that she held in one hand, rereading her favorite passage about how to tease a mate into submission by making them wait for release, rubbing her round belly with the other. The baby wasn’t due for a few more months, but she felt as though it were already part of the family.
“You look like a princess, content with her kingdom,” Fabian said, striding out onto the veranda. He held a packet of letters, and as he came to sit on the chaise at her feet, he handed one to her.
“I am content with my kingdom,” she said, closing her book and attempting to lean toward him for a kiss.
Fabian spared her having to struggle by inching closer and kissing her. She sank back against her cushions with a happy sigh.
That happiness was dented somewhat when his expression turned suddenly serious.
“What is it?” she asked, glancing to the letter he’d handed her with alarm. It bore postage marks from someplace called St. Kitts.
Before she could ask about that, Fabian said, “I’ve had a letter from your Uncle Richard.”
St. Kitts was forgotten. Alice blinked and shifted to sit straighter. “Why would Uncle Richard be writing to you?”
Fabian hesitated before saying, “He was uncertain how you would take the news of your father’s death.”
Twin sensations of shock and relief hit Alice. She let out a breath and sagged into her pillows. “Thank God.”
Fabian’s brow inched up. “You are not upset?”
Alice considered his question. “I am sad,” she decided. “But more over the fact that he was such a horrible man, a man who wasted his life.” She paused then asked, “How did he die?”
Fabian continued to look uncertain. “It is believed he took his own life after a night of drinking and gambling in which he lost more than he was worth.”
Heaviness descended on Alice’s shoulders and she lowered her head. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”
“But you’re not,” Fabian said. It wasn’t a question. He shifted closer to her, cleared his throat, and nodded to the letter in her hands. “That one baffles me. Who would be writing to you from the Caribbean?”
Alice blinked and glanced from the letter to Fabian and back again. “Is that where St. Kitts is?”
“Yes.” Fabian’s smile returned. “Open it.”
Alice instantly tore into the letter. “It must be from Lettuce,” she said. “She’s the only person I know outside of Europe and—” She gasped as she recognized her sister’s handwriting. “It is from Lettuce.”
“Go on,” Fabian said with a grin, prompting her.
Alice scanned the first few lines, then read. “Dearest Alice. I was surprised and delighted to hear from Imogen that you have left England for Italy. I’d sent a letter to you at home, but I’m sure you haven’t received it. So I shall have to write my entire story over again.”
“Story?” Fabian asked. “What story?”
Alice glanced up at him, then continued. “I have been through an adventure like nothing you could ever imagine in the last year, like something out of a fairy story. It began with a miserable marriage to a vain and abusive groom of father’s choosing and took a turn for the worse as my horrible husband dragged me onto a ship bound for America. But everything changed when the pirates attacked….”
I hope you have enjoyed Alice and Fabian’s story! But I just know you’re dying to hear what happened to Lettuce. Well, Lettuce’s story, The Captured Vixen, will be available as part of the Once Upon a Pirate box set, coming soon!
And if you would like to read about Imogen and Thaddeus, be sure to look for The Faithful Doxy (which is either coming soon or already published, depending on when you’re reading this box set)
If you’re interested in reading about the wild, summer house party thrown by the Herringtons, the party where Alice and Fabian met, be sure to look for the House Party trilogy of the When the Wallflowers were Wicked series: The Devilish Trollop, The Playful Wanton, and The Charming Jezebel, all available now!
If you enjoyed this book and would like to hear more from me, please sign up for my newsletter! When you sign up, you’ll get a free, full-length novella, A Passionate Deception. Victorian identity theft has never been so exciting in this story of hope, tricks, and starting over. Part of my West Meets East series, A Passionate Deception can be read as a stand-alone. Pick up your free copy today by signing up to receive my newsletter (which I only send out when I have a new release)!
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About Merry Farmer
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, her hyperactive new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about.
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The Winter Bride
A Rogues and Gentlemen Novella
Chapter 1
“Wherein a lady’s brother is a vile fiend.”
Burwash Weald, East Sussex, England
12th November, 1819
The icy air bit hard as the fragile glint of daylight faded from the skies. Ned stared up at the low grey clouds for a moment before looking towards the farm. An uneven selection of barns and outbuildings clustered around the yard in front of the main house, which was solid and reassuring against the frozen backdrop. It was a handsome old place, half-timbered and red brick, crooked with age. It sat quietly in the harsh winter landscape, enduring the bitter season like everything else.
The light dusting of snow muted the heavy tread of Ned’s boots as he trudged back home, and the kitchen window glowed like a beacon. It was the kind of day that made a man long to be inside and sitting beside a warm fire. Ned watched a pale plume of smoke from the huge brick chimney curl against the forbidding sky. Aye, the kitchen would be snug and cosy now.
He had that to look forward to, he reminded himself, though the Christmas season spread out before him like an empty field, barren in this winter scene, with every inch picked bare by crows.
With a sharp whistle, he called Rufus. The dog stopped snuffling about by the farm gate and hesitated for a moment before huffing and following him to the door. Ned stamped his feet, kicking the worst of the snow and muck free from his boots before taking them off and carrying them inside. Mrs Tucknott would have his hide if he walked dirty footprints through the house. For all she was half his size, even a bull of a man like Ned had a healthy respect for the woman’s temper.
As he opened the door of the kitchen, scents of cooking and clean linen enveloped him, along with the ever-present tang of wood smoke that was as much a part of the old house’s fabric as the ti
mbers themselves.
“You’ve time to wash up,” Mrs Tucknott said, nodding a greeting to him as she laid the table for his dinner.
“Right.”
Ned took himself off to wash and change out of his work clothes. They never had much in the way of conversation, but it was nice to have another living soul in the house, just to know they were there.
Once he was presentable and in no danger of getting a scolding, Ned returned to the kitchen and Mrs Tucknott served him a huge bowl of steaming lamb stew. A fresh loaf, with three thick slices ready cut, sat on the table with the butter dish, along with a bowl of potatoes and another of cabbage. Ned’s stomach growled with appreciation.
The sound of a horse and cart clattering into the yard outside announced the arrival of Mr Tucknott, and the housekeeper undid her apron and folded it with brisk, efficient movements.
“Mr Hardy, are you quite certain—?”
Ned sighed and held up a hand. “We’ve discussed it, Mrs Tucknott. Go visit your daughter. It’s three years since ye last went to Scotland, and her with the new bairn. You’ve filled the pantry fit to bursting. I won’t starve.”
“I know that,” she said with a huff and folded her arms.
Ned regarded her. She was a little bird of a woman, with eyes as bright and dark as a robin’s. She was every bit as territorial, too.
“What, then?”
“Don’t seem right,” she said, her sharp features softening in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. “’Twas all right to go when the missus lived, but now….”
Ned sighed. His wife had been dead nearly two years now and Mrs Tucknott had gotten some romantic notion about him being heartbroken. Strange how such a no-nonsense woman could get such a maggoty idea into her head, but there you were.
Once Upon a Christmas Wedding Page 30