His Bargained For Bride: Regency Matchmaker Book Four

by Jones, Celeste

  Surely my reaction to his brutish handling of me was simply the result of having been so long without a man. It was not possible that I, a woman of learning and principles, would find pleasure in punishment.

  No, of course not.

  Then why was I panting and bucking my hips as though I could not get enough of his touch, his discipline?

  I had convinced myself that I had vanquished my passions, the feelings that instinctively had made me behave—as my cruel husband had said so many times—like an animal in heat. I had been wrong. They had merely been lying dormant until awakened with a vengeance by Drake and his powerful body, his wide palm inflicting stinging swats to my backside.

  Most importantly, he appeared to be nonplussed, in fact pleased, by my wanton reaction to his touch.

  When Drake grabbed hold of the juncture at the back of my dress where the bodice joined the skirt and yanked, ripping the seam so that my gown was in two parts, I gasped, but the muscles of my womanhood spasmed at his mastery. The clothing on the bottom half of my body vanished, including my shoes, leaving me in just my chemise and the torn bodice of my gown.

  Drake grasped the neckcloth binding my wrists. “I am going to take this off, not because you have been a good girl, because you most certainly have not with your wanton ways, but because it makes removing the balance of your clothing easier for me. It seems I am eager to see what lies beneath.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “but I shall bind your wrists again if you cannot follow my instructions. Or simply if it pleases me to do so.” He chuckled and I moaned again into the pillow. I was a wanton puddle of desire in his hands.

  And the night was just beginning.

  In fact, it was still the afternoon. Time had lost all meaning the moment Drake lifted me in his arms and ascended the stairs.

  Once the fabric was removed from my wrists, Drake massaged them between his hands and placed a kiss on the pulse point of each one. I whimpered and clenched the muscles of my womanly parts in an effort to prevent myself from writhing from side to side.

  Drake placed my hands at my sides and then turned me over, his hands at the hem of my chemise, lifting it the length of my body.

  * * *

  Drake

  My cock strained and my vision faltered for a moment. I had intended to be gentle and gentlemanly with Amy. Yes, I yearned for her with a longing that had overwhelmed me but I still thought I could show some restraint. Had I not spent the better part of my life working to control my impulses?

  All of those good intentions went out the window the moment Amy first uttered my name. Something had been unleashed in me and I could not control it. No longer wanted to control it.

  It took every ounce of willpower I possessed, which had been beaten into me at boarding school, not to shred the rest of Amy’s clothing with my bare hands. Instead, I raised her chemise, revealing her body to my view an inch at a time.

  I had already seen her delicious bottom and glimpsed the pink folds between. My breath caught in my throat as I raised the thin fabric of her chemise. Feet, small and delicate. Calves creamy. Thighs. Oh Lord. Her thighs were shapely and parted just enough to reveal a sliver of the pink pleasure awaiting between. Moisture from Amy’s quim slickened her thighs and my tongue ached for a taste.

  All in due time, Drake.

  I continued as though unwrapping a gift. A most wondrous gift. The curls of her mound shimmered gold in the last rays of afternoon sun coming through the windows. Despite my determination not to touch her again until I had removed all of her clothes, my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own and could not resist the urge to stroke through those soft curls. My cock was on the verge of exploding.

  With both hands, I gathered up the rest of her chemise and the remnants of the bodice of her gown and swept them over her head, tossing them over my shoulder uncaring of where they landed.

  Before me lay the most exquisite female form I had ever beheld. My gaze roamed her body, lingering on the soft roundness of her belly and then to the supple globes of her breasts. Her pink nipples were hard and just the size to fit between my thumb and forefinger.

  I tested this theory, pinching one until Amy cried out, her eyes closed and her hands gripping the quilt beneath her.

  “Do you like that, my naughty bride?” I did the same to her other breast.

  “Oh, heavens, yes. Yes, my lord.”

  I pinched a bit harder to get her attention. “When we are alone you are to call me by my Christian name or you may call me sir.” I grasped both breasts in my hands and gripped them hard, reveling in the fullness against my palms. “Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes, oh yes. Please, sir.” Her voice faded away and she closed her eyes, rocking her head from side to side.

  “Please, sir... what?”

  She bit her lip and turned her head away. I swatted the side of her breast and her eyes opened in surprise. “Answer me, Amaryllis.” I swatted the other breast.

  She gasped, her bright eyes revealed heated desire. I gave each breast another sharp smack and she groaned and reached for her mound with her hands. “Please, Drake, please. T-touch me. Touch my qu-quim.”

  I grabbed her hand and put it above her head again. “Do not move,” I warned. I stepped away from the bed and retrieved my neckcloth, securing her hands over her head again.

  “No,” she whimpered. “Please.”

  “If you are a very good girl, I will untie your hands, but you must never ever touch yourself without my permission. Do you understand? You are mine, for as long as we are married, you and your cunny belong to me.”

  A look crossed her face and I wanted to kick myself for mentioning the terms of our contract at such an inopportune time. Seeking to redirect her focus to the here and now, I feathered my fingers over the opening to her quim. She mewled and inched her lower half closer to my fingers. I withdrew my hand and held it aloft for her to see. “Amy, you are soaking wet with desire.”

  “Y-yes,” she husked. “Please, do not stop.”

  “I do not want to stop. It pains me as well for I have many plans for how to pleasure you... and for you to pleasure me. But until you are able to follow instructions…” my voice trailed off.

  “I am sorry, Drake. Truly I am. I will hold still and follow all your instructions. You have my word on it.”

  I drew my hand to my mouth and tasted. My self-control vanished.

  Grabbing my bride by the hips I moved her higher on the mattress and climbed onto the bed, spreading her thighs wide.

  “Ah, Amy, I find I have lost my ability to control myself. Ironic, I know, but I must have you. Now.”

  * * *

  Amy

  I had begged Drake to touch my quim, praying silently that he would do more than touch it. I could never give voice to those requests. It had been shameful enough to make the statement he had insisted upon. Despite my yearning for his attentions to my nether region, I had no quarrel with his sudden change of plans.

  Well, there was one thing. I was helpless beneath him, my hands bound together. All I could do was watch as he slid his massive cock into me.

  How could I have thought I would be able to live the rest of my life without the pleasure of a man’s cock filling me? Pushing into me until I thought I might burst. The walls of my cunny stretched to accommodate him. My hands clenched and unclenched, aching to be free to touch and explore his body.

  Completely exposed to his view and unable to do anything but allow him to use my body however he saw fit, I closed my eyes and reveled in the heat of his cock pressing deep into my core.

  Once he had filled my passage, Drake paused for a moment. “Open your eyes, Amy. I want to watch you as I take my pleasure in your hot quim.”

  I did as he ordered, staring directly into his dark gaze and the muscles of my cunny spasmed around the girth of him.

  His naughty talk and commanding tone were the things of my shameful erotic dreams. In my previous experience of marital congress, no words were used,
or so I quickly learned. It had simply been a quick few thrusts before Richard had collapsed atop me, then rolled over and fallen asleep, leaving me unsatisfied and silent.

  I knew, deep down I had known, there was more to relations between a husband and wife. I was not the problem, my passionless and cruel former husband was. Finally, I felt free, free from his taunts which had made me feel unwanted, strange, and different.

  With Drake I felt wanted and desirable.

  And the heat inside me burned so hot and all I wanted to do was run toward the fire.

  Our eyes locked together, Drake slowly withdrew. I wanted to move with him, never wishing to have him leave my core, but I did my best to obey for more than anything else, I did not want him to stop.

  Keeping my eyes on his, I saw heated desire grow stronger as he pushed back in, filling me to the hilt. I gasped and my hands yearned to reach for him, to hold him in place but they could not. All I could do was clasp my fingers together and squeeze while he plundered in and out, harder and faster until his hot seed shot into my core in an explosion.

  “You have been a good girl, Amy,” he said breathlessly. The languid expression on his face filled me with happiness knowing that he had found pleasure in me. He reached between our still joined bodies and tapped the hard nub of my clitty, then rubbed the sensitized bundle of nerve endings until I convulsed beneath his touch and climaxed with a shout that echoed around the bedchamber.

  Chapter 8

  Drake

  “Lord Stowe, my deepest apologies. I had no idea what Lady Calliope and Lady Tempest had in mind. For in all honesty, who could have imagined they would Shanghai a vicar?” Dr. Spencer, who sat across from me in my library, shook his head in disbelief.

  “I think anyone who underestimates those two ladies does so at their peril,” I replied, also shaking my head in disbelief.

  “Truly, I am sorry things got so far out of hand. And in the blink of an eye. You are actually a married man and Amy is now Lady Stowe. If only Mrs. Perkins had not gone into an early labor, I might have been able to put a stop to it.”

  It had been two days… and two decadent nights, since my impromptu marriage ceremony. My head sometimes reeled from trying to make sense of it all.

  “Do not be so hard on yourself, Lucas. I do not blame you. I set this course in motion with a ridiculous plan.”

  “Things have certainly not gone to plan.” Despite his usual calm demeanor, it was clear Dr. Lucas Spencer was gobsmacked by this bit of news. No doubt he, and everyone in the village, had learned of the event within hours, if not minutes, of our saying ‘I do’.

  “Mrs. Fisk is in quite an uproar. No doubt she had designs on you for her daughter, Caroline.”

  I shuddered at the thought. Not that Caroline Fisk was an unattractive young lady, but her mother was pushy and growing increasingly desperate to marry off her daughter. However, she had enjoyed a bit of an improvement in her reputation around the village of Briar Glen after she proved invaluable in assisting Lucas when his bride had been abducted. No one got the better of Mrs. Fisk.

  Finally I simply sat back in my chair and laughed. Stunned, Lucas stared at me for a moment and then joined in.

  “I hate to imagine what might happen if Mrs. Fisk met up with Lady Calliope and Lady Tempest,” he said and the two of us laughed again.

  “We must vow to prevent such a thing from ever taking place,” I replied.

  It had been a long time since I had laughed so hard and it felt good. Uncle Jarvis often admonished me for not being more lighthearted, but when one had the responsibility of a large estate and earldom as had been upon my shoulders since I was old enough for Uncle Jarvis to start divesting himself of those duties, it was not always fun and games. He said it was to prepare me for his eventual demise, but I often suspected the burdens weighed too heavily on him and he was glad to be rid of them. Just when I had gotten estate matters back on track—not only did Uncle Jarvis not care for the burden of running the estate, he hadn’t been very good at it—his health became precarious and my reasons for feeling carefree evaporated.

  “If I may be so bold,” Lucas said, once we had both composed ourselves, “how do you find married life?”

  It was a question I had been asking myself. “Well, without being indelicate, there are certain aspects of marriage that I have found surprisingly pleasant.”

  Lucas nodded. “That is important.”

  “As for the rest, it is too early to say. Besides, I do not wish to get too accustomed to having a wife, as I do not expect this marriage to last long. Amy is determined to go to America to assist her sister in the operation of a school for underprivileged children. Our agreement still stands. The money I will provide for her participation will pay for her passage with enough left over to allow her to live comfortably for a long time.”

  Though I said the words without emotion, I was surprised by the sadness that overwhelmed me at the prospect of Amy leaving. Already I had glanced at the clock several times, anticipating when I would see her again. Of course, that was pure lust which would surely run its course in due time.

  “Oh,” Lucas said. “I suppose that is for the best. It is a business arrangement after all. A bargain, even.”

  “Yes, she is my bargained for bride,” I reminded myself. We were both playing a role.

  “Well, regardless of what happens, I must say that your uncle has improved immensely since my last visit. He was energetic and talkative when I saw him this morning. His heart sounds a bit stronger too. He could not stop talking about your bride. She seems to have captured his heart... even if she has not captured yours.” He looked as though he wished to say more, but refrained. Dr. Spencer was the soul of discretion, which is why I had confided in him in the first place.

  Curious, I asked, “Is there something else you would like to say about this?”

  He paused as though debating the wisdom of continuing. “I simply wonder if, before all is said and done, your contract bride might capture your heart as well.”

  I could not help but wonder the same thing myself.

  * * *

  Amy

  “I am pleased to meet you, Lady Stowe. We were all extremely surprised to learn of your recent nuptials. Have you known Lord Stowe long?” Mrs. Fisk said, giving me a smile which did not reach her eyes. Although Seraphina had warned me about the town busybody, I would have picked her out quickly regardless. She arrived at the Briar Glen Improvement Society meeting with her daughter, Caroline, in tow as well as a reticule containing lace fancywork.

  It had been a week since I had first laid eyes on Drake Stowe and my head spun with the recollection of all that had transpired in just seven days. I also made a mental note to write to Lady Ambrosia and apprise her of a few changes in the plan—most notably the fact that the fake betrothal did not last long. In the wee hours of the morning, in those languid moments after hours of delicious and depraved lovemaking with Drake, I would say a silent thank you to Lady Ambrosia for all she had done for me. Perhaps more than anything, my time with Drake had shown me that I was not the depraved harlot Richard and my parents believed me to be.

  Oh, I might behave like a harlot at times with Drake, but he liked it. Very much. For the time being, my temporary marriage felt very real indeed.

  Of course, I would not regale Lady Ambrosia with the carnal details but she very much deserved an update. I would do that as soon as I had a chance, I told myself.

  I felt a bit bad over attending the improvement society meeting. It was not as though I would be in Briar Glen long enough to affect any changes, but I could not say that to Seraphina when she extended the invitation.

  Only Drake and I knew about our short-term plan. I suspected that Dr. Spencer knew as well, though his wife, Seraphina had given no indication that she believed anything other than what she had been told—Lady Ambrosia had made a match between us and though we had not intended to marry quite so quickly, Lady Tempest and Lady Calliope had hurried that along. />
  I still could not believe the audacity of those two ladies. Whether or not I wished they had simply gone back to London without interfering, I still could not say for certain. In all honesty, I could not say that I was unhappy with how things had turned out. Though stern, Drake was enjoyable company and also a passionate lover. Once I arrived in America, I intended to dedicate myself to the school which my sister had opened and there would be no time, energy or interest in marriage.

  “Our marriage was an arranged one,” I said simply to Mrs. Fisk.

  She, however, would not be put off so easily.

  “Arranged? I had no idea Lord Stowe was in search of a bride. He had shown an interest in my daughter, Caroline. At one time, several people in the area believed he was partial to her and I believed it as well. Of course, then his uncle had to go and take ill and Lord Stowe sort of faded away from socializing. After Marie Conway broke off their engagement, he had been so utterly morose, and he was just coming out of his sadness over that. I am sure my Caroline gave him reason to feel happy again for he seemed to smile more frequently when with her.” Mrs. Fisk ran her gaze up and down me in a way that made me feel that I had been measured and came up short. “But then again, it seems the London matchmakers are all the rage these days. I suppose he went to that same silly woman who matched Dr. Lucas and Mrs. Lucas.”

  “Lady Ambrosia?” Seraphina joined the discussion. “Oh, she is the most special lady. Not quite as special to me as Lady Tempest and Lady Calliope, though she did select my dear Lucas as my husband. I can never thank her enough for that.”

  “Yes, that is all well and good for some people. However,” Mrs. Fisk sniffed and glanced at her daughter who was making short work of a piece of Mrs. Boyd’s lemon cake, “a fine young lady needs to be seen to be properly appreciated for all she has to offer. Gentlemen can tell the wheat from the chaff, you know.”