by Golden Angel
“Please… oh, please…” The begging words fell from her lips before she could stop them, but she could not regret the loss of pride, for it was as though he had been waiting for them.
The wet heat of his mouth clamped down where she was most sensitive, most delicate, and he sucked.
Mary keened, sobbing with relief as ecstasy crashed over her, igniting where his tongue laved her and exploding outward. Her body was flushed, hot, and drowning in the exquisite sensations washing over her in glorious waves of pleasure, leaving her limp and spent upon the seat.
When Rex finally pulled away, reemerging from beneath her skirts, flushed with his hair mussed and lips shiny with her arousal, she did not have the energy to do more than stare at him, still panting for breath. He was breathing heavily as well, and she could see the outline of his cock against the front of his pants.
Smiling, he licked his lips like a cat savoring its cream. Running one hand over his blond locks, he managed to straighten them into some sense of style, though they remained rumpled. He no longer looked so prim and proper.
Blushing, Mary sat upright, pushing her skirts back down into place. Creases remained, and she groaned.
“Everyone is going to know we did… something.” Lifting her head, she glared at him. He smirked back at her. Blasted rakes.
Taking her hand, he brought it to his mouth, turning it at the last moment and kissing the inside of her palm. Despite feeling satiated from his oral endeavors, Mary’s hand tingled in response. The man was positively lethal. It was not fair the way she reacted to him.
“They will guess, but they will not know.” He shrugged, refusing to relinquish her hand when she tugged gently. “Besides, I am a rake. It is almost expected. Did you know the Earl of Spencer carried his countess out of their wedding brunch over his shoulder?”
Mary gasped. “He did not!”
Even as she said the words, she could picture the Earl and Countess of Spencer doing just that. Mouth firming, ignoring the sweet lassitude drifting through her limbs, she sternly glared at Rex.
“You will not be doing the same.” Goodness, she would die of embarrassment if he did. Then she would have to kill him. It would be the only solution.
Hearing the seriousness in her tone, Rex grinned, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Mary’s lips parted, and she could taste the musky sweetness of her own climax on his lips. Both repelled and fascinated, she let him kiss her deeply, wondering at the shocking levels of perversity she was willing to entertain with him.
The carriage lurched to a halt.
“Then you should be glad I only chose to… rumple the package a bit more on the way here.” Another wink, then he was pulling away to open the door to the carriage, leaving Mary to humph and grumble before composing her expression and dragging her social smile back to her lips, the smile coming a bit more easily and sincerely than it should have.
She was going to have to work on bolstering her defenses if she had any chance of making him chase her.
Rex
Wedding brunches were tedious affairs, which Rex had studiously avoided as much as possible. Unfortunately, it was impossible to dodge his own, and he had discovered the only thing more tedious than a wedding brunch was his wedding brunch. Whoever had decided a ceremony should be immediately followed by a gathering of guests, instead of promptly retiring to the bedroom for consummation, had a lot to answer for.
He had been amused by the tale of the Earl of Spencer carrying his bride from their brunch, but now he understood why. If only he could do the same, but Mary would be mortified rather than amused or aroused by such a manly show of passion.
Turning to look at his bride, surrounded by her friends and family, glowing from within as they heaped their love and attention on her, Rex knew he would not take her away just to indulge his own desires. One thing he had realized about his Mary was how blind she was to the love others held for her. Something which he thought likely stemmed from her parents’ attitude. The one time he had asked about whether they would be upset at missing the wedding, she had merely blinked and responded she could not see why.
Later, a quick question to Walter had revealed that calling Mary’s parents neglectful was putting it kindly. Thankfully, Walter’s mother had stepped in once she realized the extent of their disinterest in their daughter. Unfortunately, she had not had the revelation until it became clear Mary’s parents had not arranged for a debut and had no interest in securing a husband or a future for her. From there, the Viscountess had taken charge of Mary’s future.
Seeing Mary basking in the approval of her aunt and uncle, Rex knew her parents were not missed. Perhaps it was best they were not here—he was not sure he would be able to keep his own distaste from showing at how they had treated their daughter.
“I suppose I should say congratulations.” The acerbic tone made it clear Elijah was not sure he felt up to the task.
Turning, Rex cocked an eyebrow at his former friend but remained silent. After a long moment, Elijah was the first to avert his gaze. Rudeness had never been his forte, and considering how obsessed he had become with being a proper English gentleman after running wild in their youth, Rex had wagered he would not be any better at it now.
“Sorry,” Elijah muttered before giving his head a shake and meeting Rex’s eyes again. He sighed, rolling his shoulders into a more relaxed state. “Mary is like a little sister to me. I would not like to see her hurt.”
Rex wondered if his wife knew exactly how many staunch defenders she had. He rather thought she would be surprised to realize their true number and the depth of their devotion.
“I do not intend to harm her,” he replied, being very deliberate with his phrasing. Elijah caught it and scowled. Rex shrugged, lowering his voice so only Elijah would be able to hear him. “You know as well as I do, some ladies enjoy a bit of pain with their pleasure.”
Elijah grimaced and shook his head again.
“I really do not like to think of Mary in such terms… but…” He looked away from Rex. Curiosity piqued, Rex waited. Elijah had approached him for a reason, and though his concern for Mary’s wellbeing was sincere, Rex did not think it was Elijah’s only motive. Elijah’s shoulders straightened again, his chin lifting. “I also would not like to think that Mary would go without something she needs in her life, the way I have been.”
Well, this was certainly an interesting turn of events. Rex cocked his head.
“Have you?” he asked mildly enough to be taunting, and Elijah scowled at him.
“You know I have.” Elijah’s voice was tight. It was a blow to his pride to have to admit to such a thing, especially when he had been so disparaging when speaking to Rex previously. “I… you said there is a place for me, if…”
Finally taking pity on him, Rex nodded.
“There is always a place for you in the Society, Elijah.” The poor man clearly needed it. He was more repressed than a nun. “The next soiree is Wednesday after next at Lady Greywood’s.”
“Thank you.” Elijah nodded, stiff as ever, and walked away. Rex shook his head in bemusement. Hopefully, an evening with the Society would loosen the man up again.
Mary
Eyeing her husband from across the room, Mary wondered what he and Elijah were talking about. They did not seem the type who would get along. Elijah was very much like Thomas, who did not approve of Rex, although he was doing his best to hide it now that she was married to the man. Thomas really was a dear, even if he could be a prig at times.
“Can I steal you away for a moment?” Lily asked, winding her arm about Mary’s. Josie came to Mary’s other side, smiling sunnily at those gathered around her.
“Yes, we just need her for a minute,” Josie said brightly. Aunt Elizabeth smiled, drawing her friends off, so Josie and Lily could pull her away.
“Where are we going?” Mary asked, confused by the suddenness of their request. They had spoken a few minutes earlier before Josie had been distracted by Joseph escorti
ng Miss Bliss out to the gardens.
“The retiring room.” Lily led her out to the hall, but as soon as they were through the door, she and Josie looked over their shoulders and tugged Mary to the right instead of going straight down the hall to the room Aunt Elizabeth had set up for the ladies.
“Where are we really going?”
“Evie is here,” Josie whispered.
“What?!” Shock was followed by joy, then worry. Evie’s uncle and all three of her cousins were here for the brunch. They were currently under the impression Evie had gone to Bath, thanks to Josie’s quick thinking. She had produced a letter for them, from Evie, explaining how she was bored at home and had decided to go jaunting. Claiming she was angry at being left out of her uncle and cousins’ business, she ‘told’ Josie that she was not going to tell them where she was going, but Josie had her permission to do so if she judged their worry to be excessive.
If any of them were to realize Evie was here in London and not at Mary’s wedding as a guest, explanations would be demanded.
“Is everything all right?” she whispered. That was her second worry—Evie was here not to see Mary but because something had gone horribly wrong.
“Of course.” Josie squeezed her arm. “She wanted to see you today and could not think of another way.”
Warmth spread through Mary’s chest. She loved her friends so much. It could not have been easy for Evie to miss Mary’s wedding, and that she went to so much effort to see her anyway, despite the danger, meant everything in the world to Mary. There was still a small part of her that wondered if Evie’s interest in her marriage was because of Rex’s connection to the Society, but that evaporated as soon as she saw her friend.
Dressed in simple servants’ clothing, makeup altering the delicate features of her face, and her hair pulled back in a severe knot, Evie was almost unrecognizable at first glance. She brightened the moment Mary walked into the small parlor where she was waiting, and her beauty shone through her disguise.
“Oh, Mary… you are so lovely!” Evie wrapped Mary in a hard hug, and Mary squeezed her back just as tightly.
“You should not have risked this, but I am so glad you did,” Mary replied. Behind her, Lily was stationed outside the door with Josie on this side, taking charge of listening for Lily’s knock if anyone were to come down the hall.
“I was at the church this morning, too, though I dare say you did not see me,” Evie said, pulling back enough to look down into Mary’s face but not releasing her. “You are happy, yes?”
“I think so.” A pink blush spread across Mary’s cheeks as she remembered the morning’s interlude in the carriage and the way Rex looked at her every time she crossed his gaze during the brunch. “I think… I think I can be. I just have to wait and see if I will be.”
“If he makes you unhappy, we will fix him, one way or another.” Evie’s green eyes glinted dangerously.
From anyone else, Mary would have assumed they were jesting and laughed, but Evie was deadly serious. Mary knew there were things Evie had done she did not talk about, not just from her time on the streets before her uncle had found her, but also in service to her uncle during the few times he had been forced to use her. He tried to keep her out of his business as much as possible, but Evie inserted herself wherever she could, and sometimes, there really were things only a lady could do.
“Give me time before you start plotting my husband’s demise, please.” Mary wrinkled her nose. Evie shrugged.
“If the plans are already in place, it makes it that much easier.”
“You are incorrigible.” Now Mary did laugh.
“I want you to be happy,” Evie said seriously, pulling Mary in for another hug, this one slightly more tearful. “Be happy, sweet Mary. You so deserve it.”
They did not have more than those few minutes together since Mary’s absence from her own wedding brunch would be quickly noticed, but it did not matter. Those minutes made Mary’s wedding day complete. There would be time for treason and spies on the morrow. For today, she was a happy bride, surrounded by her loving friends and family, and her wedding day was everything she could have dreamed it would be.
As beginnings went, Mary mused as Rex led her back out to their carriage, ready to take her home to begin their new life, this was not a bad one.
Chapter 17
Mary
To Mary’s surprise, her new husband did not leap on her again the moment they were alone in the carriage. She felt oddly disappointed. Clearing her throat, she froze when Rex’s attention focused on her. Waiting…
“It was a lovely brunch,” she said finally, unable to take the silence for a moment longer.
“It was.” The wolfish grin that crossed his face made her squirm. He was looking at her as though he wanted to do something scandalous, so why was he just sitting there? Watching him watch her was becoming disconcerting, his eyes roaming over her body as if he was mentally undressing her, but he took no action.
Despite the fulfillment he had given her earlier, Mary had become aroused again in anticipation of what was coming. She had not expected to have to wait. Should she ask for what she wanted? Did she even know what she wanted? There was a myriad of possibilities, but she did not know if there was a certain order to such things. Cynthia and Arabella had neglected to mention if there was, and Mary had not thought to ask, assuming Rex would take the lead. She had had no reason to think otherwise.
The silent ride was not very long, thankfully, before they arrived at Hartford House. Her new house, she realized, sudden anxiety taking over where curiosity and arousal had dwelled. Rex helped her down from the carriage, and they walked up to the house. They were mere feet away from the front entrance when he paused, and Mary did so as well, confused.
She shrieked, throwing her arms around Rex’s neck, as she was suddenly lifted off her feet. Chuckling, he swung her around, holding her tightly against his chest.
“You could have warned me!” Her heart was still pounding from the sudden movement or maybe just from being so close to him. Their faces were only inches apart, and his eyes locked onto her lips. She was dimly aware they were drawing some attention from passersby, but it was hard to truly care. No one had blinked twice at her slightly disheveled appearance at their brunch—it was as Rex said, people expected it of him.
“I believe this is tradition,” he replied, not at all chastened.
Easily carrying her the last few steps, the door opened before they reached it. The grizzled servant who had manned the door the night of masquerade stood there, grinning widely as he stepped back and bowed. Beyond him were the rest of the servants, a slightly older woman standing in front of them.
Coming to a halt in the foyer, Rex put Mary back down on her feet, and she did her best not to register the loss of his strong arms holding her. Yearning after him like a schoolgirl would hardly be the best impression to make before the assembled staff, over who she was now in charge. Certain proprieties must be met.
“Mary, this is Cormack, my butler, and Mrs. Maple, the housekeeper. Together, they run the household.”
“M’lady.” Cormack nodded gruffly and bowed again, still beaming at her despite his quiet welcome. At least he approved. Mary wondered whether he knew she had gained illicit entrance to the Society’s masquerade while he was on watch.
“Welcome, my lady.” Mrs. Maple bobbed a curtsey. She looked to be in her forties and was a beautiful older woman, slender as a reed with greying dark hair pulled back in a bun, and a no-nonsense air about her. Mary found her rather intimidating at first glance, but hopefully, they would be able to find common ground.
“Mrs. Maple, please show the Marchioness to her rooms,” Rex said mildly. “She is going to take a nap.”
Bristling, Mary opened her mouth to protest his high-handedness when he caught her eye. The raffish glint in his tawny gaze provided the clue. Oh. Oh.
“Yes, a nap.” She nodded firmly, inwardly cringing. She sounded like a ninny, but it was
too late to change that. Neither Cormack nor Mrs. Maple’s expressions changed, but Mrs. Maple returned her nod, allowing a small smile to grace her lips.
“This way, please, my lady,” Mrs. Maple said, turning toward the stair before looking over her shoulder. “Did you bring a maid with you?”
Mary shook her head. She had borrowed the services of her Aunt Elizabeth’s maid and later, Arabella’s and Gabrielle’s since her parents had never provided her with one. Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Henry had offered, but they had already spent so much sponsoring her debut, Mary had not felt right accepting when she was remarkably self-sufficient.
Scanning the rows of servants, Mrs. Maple gestured. “Come, Rose. You will serve as her lady’s maid for now.”
A young woman, snub-nosed and curvy with dark hair, brightened and stepped forward. Mary had to bite back her lip against protesting that she did not need a dedicated maid. She was a marchioness now, so even if she did not need one, she should have one. Besides, the row of tiny buttons down the back of her dress was not something she could handle on her own, and it appeared Rex would not be the one to assist her.
Very well. While she was a bit disappointed, this gave her an opportunity to surprise him with some of the more revealing garments the modiste had provided for her trousseau. Smiling smugly, she followed Mrs. Maple up the stairs, Rose trailing behind her.
When she glanced back over her shoulder, she was gratified to see Rex still watching, anticipation gleaming in his eyes.
Yes, a nap sounded very good, indeed.
Rex
Once Mary had disappeared into the upstairs hall and Cormack had dismissed the rest of the staff—she could meet them and begin learning names later, that was not the first of Rex’s priorities—he pulled his butler aside.
“No news of Lucas?” He did his best to hide his worry, but he knew some leaked through.
Since he had not been able to check in on Barnes or Lucas’ house on his wedding day, he had sent Cormack in his stead. He already knew what Cormack’s answer would be, but he felt compelled to ask, anyway. If there had been urgent news, like Lucas being found, Cormack would have come to the brunch, knowing Rex would want to hear immediately.
