by Wendy Vella
The Viscount’s Willful Wife
Wendy Vella
A Scarsdale Publishing Half Hour Read
The Viscount’s Willful Wife
Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Vella
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: R Jackson Designs
Cover Art: Period Images
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Captured by a Duke
Chapter One
“You are my wife!”
“Wife, not chattel,” Eleanor said, trying to hold onto her temper. “You treat me with the indifference of a servant.”
“If refusing to allow you to leave this house, and ride around the hundreds of acres of my estate, alone, makes me indifferent, then yes I am that. Christ, you test my patience wife!”
Ellie refused to be intimidated by the anger steadily rising in her husband’s voice.
“You can spare me no time in your day, and when you do it is to deliver orders, or yell at me.”
She hated that she sounded petulant when she had never been that way before. The truth was, she was lonely. Marriage had seen her leave her three brothers and move into a house with the man she loved. The man who she believed could one day love her back. In this she had been wrong. Only now was she beginning to realize just how much.
He had intercepted Ellie as she was walking out the front door, determined to go for the ride he had forbidden her to take. Looking around the grand entranceway, she knew there were servants lurking behind doors. Listening to the Lord and Lady of the house arguing once again.
“I am a Viscount, and with that comes responsibility. I have no time to pander to you.”
Be calm, Ellie counselled herself. No good could come from yelling back at him as she longed to do…with some force.
She had married Louis, Viscount Thurston two months ago, and the only place they had found a common ground was in the bedroom. There, Ellie thought, battling the blush she felt, they were insatiable.
“Then let me share in your responsibility. I lived with three brothers, one of whom was an Earl, and they never treated me as inferior. In fact, Joseph often asked me to assist him with estate issues. Let me spend time helping you in some capacity.”
Louis was tall, broad-shouldered and far too handsome. His hair was the color of fallen leaves, not quite brown and not quite red, but a delightful in-between. His eyes were grey, like a winter’s day, and his face was so much more than handsome. High cheekbones, strong jaw and aristocratic nose. He was a man who others noticed, and she had been no different. From the first glance she had been enamoured. She still wondered to this day why he had married her, when he could have had anyone.
“I have no wish for your help, I have a steward for that. What I wish is that you do the things you should.”
Ellie hated that particular look. As if she were a fool, and beneath him. It made her angry, and that was never a good thing, as her temper once unleashed was not easily controlled. She counted slowly to five. She reached three.
“Things?” she gritted out through her teeth. “What things?”
He looked suddenly wary.
“Perhaps I should dabble in watercolors, or embroider one of your handkerchiefs lovingly?” She could hear the shrill tone in her voice, but was beyond caring.
“Eleanor—”
“Or perhaps I could read poetry. Hours of poetry, and then recite verses to you as I sit at your feet. When you have a moment to spare for me, of course.”
“I did not mean that.”
He was looking harried now, but she was past caring.
“Or perhaps I should be more of a lady in the bedroom? Yes, I’m quite sure that is it. I shall simply lie there until your duties are performed and applaud you when they are done!”
His grey eyes looked first left, and then right, to ensure no servants were nearby. Then he grabbed her. Two large hands wrapped around her upper arms, and suddenly she was hauled into his body.
“Shut up.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but his kiss stopped any words from coming out. It was a ruthless and determined attack, and in seconds it had achieved its desired result. She had lost all thoughts but those that centered on the man now kissing her.
“God, you infuriate me,” he rasped before his lips moved to her neck.
“Y-you married the wrong woman, if you want a peaceful life. You should have taken more time in your s-selection.” She bit her lip as he placed a long, heated lick along her skin.
“Perhaps I should have, but when I saw you every other woman paled into insignificance.”
“That should be a compliment, and yet it did not sound that way.” She arched forward as he nibbled her neck.
“Can you not, just for a few minutes, be quiet?” he growled.
“My brothers will tell you, I am rarely quiet.”
He snorted. “This I am aware of.”
“As I said, you married the wrong woman,” she said, refusing to show that his words hurt her.
She hated herself for the weakness he could always exploit in her. Her need for this man was bordering on obsessive. With only a look, or a brush of his fingers, she was soon aching for him. Her nipples hard, body aroused.
He looked over her shoulder, and seconds later Louis had swept her into his arms, and was striding into a parlor. His heel slammed the door shut, and the key turned in the lock.
“What madness is this need I have for you?” he whispered, lowering his head to the top of her breasts above the bodice of her dress, where he proceeded to place hot kisses on her skin.
“I-it is like a disease,” she whispered.
He huffed out a breath. “Of which I would gladly die.”
She felt his fingers tug at her bodice and looked down to see her breasts spill free.
“These,” he whispered, “are the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen.”
“In or out of a dress?” she managed to say as he caressed the right one.
“Both.”
“H-have you seen a great many of them?”
He didn’t comment because he had drawn her nipple deep into his mouth, and suddenly she lost her train of thought. She was filled with a desperate need. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders, she then opened the buttons of his shirt, with less care than she should, as several popped free and fell to the ground. He shuddered as she ran her hands over his chest, her nails scraping the edge of his nipples.
“God, Ellie,” he moaned, easing back to look at her. “How is it that only you can make me lose reason?”
His hands grabbed her skirts and lifted them high.
“Take them,” he demanded.
“Please,” she whispered, holding his eyes.
He leaned in and kissed her hard. His lips clung to hers until she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him closer. His kisses were like elixir, so potent they left her body shaking. The mouth that could deliver such cool, callous words was anything but when it kissed her.
She took the skirts he thrust into her hands, and then he wa
s on his knees, his hot breath on her thigh as he kissed his way to where she wanted him most. On their wedding night, he had initiated her into the sensual web of passion that could be between them, and on many nights since her education had broadened. The man who in the light of day could appear cold as stone, had become a master of torment between the sheets of their marriage bed.
“Louis,” she sighed as his mouth reached the damp folds between her thighs. Every thought was on him, on the sensations he was creating inside her. Passion, she had soon realized, had enslaved her to this man. She was pliant in his hands with just a heated look.
“Hold your skirts, Ellie.”
She hadn’t realized her fingers had slipped. Gripping them harder, she tried to hold back a moan as his tongue licked her. Pressing deeper, he found the hard bud between her thighs and grazed his teeth over it. She shuddered.
“If only I could subdue you this easily all the time.”
The deep, words had her opening her mouth to protest, but as he chose that moment to push two fingers inside her, what came out was another moan. The wave of pleasure that cascaded over her seconds later had her knees trembling.
“So responsive.” He whispered the words against her lips after regaining his feet. “Perhaps I should lock you in the bedroom…naked.”
“Y-you could t-try,” she managed to get out. “I-I do have a gun, however.”
His huff of breath was followed by a hard kiss, she then felt him lift her.
“Wrap your legs around me, my sweet.”
She did, and her arms around his neck, and then he was there, driving deep inside her, taking her breath away once more.
“God, Ellie!”
She couldn’t reply, could barely breathe, as he thrust into her again and again, until they were both breathless. When he shuddered, she followed him into oblivion.
“God’s blood, Ellie. What is this madness between us?”
She couldn’t speak, so she simply murmured. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his arms held her tight, and she could think of nowhere she would rather be.
Chapter Two
The problem for Louis was that he couldn’t seem to get enough of Ellie. He had married her because, quite simply, he could not allow anyone else to do so, and had hoped that whatever madness held him in its grip would ease once she was his wife. But that was not happening. In fact, the reverse was true.
His first sight of her had been from the back of his horse in London. She was walking across the street before him early one morning, dressed in pale lemon. The smile he saw her bestow on the man at her side, whom he had known was her brother, the Earl of Ellsworth, had made his heart thud hard inside his chest. He was an acquaintance of the Earl, and possibly even a friend, but as he did not have many of the latter, he was not entirely sure of their relationship. However, what he had been sure of was that through this connection he would meet this goddess.
He had seen Miss Eleanor Haddon many times after that day, and each one had left him feeling like he wore a shirt several sizes too small, and covered in hair. His reaction to her had been disturbing, but as it had shown no signs of easing with exposure, he had known that he had to have her as his wife. Her beauty was in so much more than her lovely face. Eyes the color of his morning chocolate, dimples, long lashes, and a lush figure that had held his eyes more than once. She was so much more than just her appearance, however. She was quite simply vibrant. When she spoke to someone, they became her sole focus. Unlike so many others in society, she appeared genuinely interested in whoever she conversed with. Her face came alive, she smiled, and her eyes sparkled. She had become an obsession for Louis, so much so that he was jealous of any man who talked to her.
I am pathetic, he thought as he walked out his front door to the stables. He would do anything for her smiles, but it seemed his anything was never enough. She wanted more. He, the man who cared about no one, the master at chilling glances, had been reduced to a weak-kneed fool by his wife.
He had thought marrying Ellie and bringing her to his estate would be what she wanted. What every young lady wanted. Wealth, status, and a husband of tolerable looks. Not, it seemed, his wife. No, she wanted to be involved in his life, the running of his estates. She wanted to get on her horse and ride his lands…alone. In fact, she wanted to be part of the inner workings of his life. Shuddering at the very thought, he entered the stables.
“Good morning to you, my lord.”
“Chalmers.” He nodded to his stable master, but his mind was elsewhere.
She’d locked her door last night, after yet another argument over his refusal to share the details of his day with her. As he’d explained, it was nothing overly exciting, just general estate business.
“But I wish to know about such things,” she’d said in that tight voice he was coming to loathe, to which he’d simply replied, “No.” She had then brought up the matter once more of her riding unescorted, to which he had again replied in the negative.
She didn’t yell or demand after that. She had simply left the table and gone to her room, and locked herself in.
“I’m made of sterner stuff than that, madam. If you think withholding yourself from me will work, think again,” he muttered now as his horse was brought from its stall. He would win this battle, as he should. He was the master of this household, so she would bloody well yield!
“Ah…I wonder if I may have a word, my lord?”
“Of course, speak freely, Chalmers,” Louis said, placing his foot in the stirrup and swinging himself on to his horse. Looking down at his stable master, he noted his expression was not a happy one. The cap in his hands was being sorely mistreated.
“Lady Thurston rode out alone this morning, early.”
“What?” Blood started pumping with vicious speed through Louis’s body.
“Said to young Timmy she wanted to ride her mare.”
“And you let her?” He tried not to roar, but it came out that way. Bloody woman, he’d shake her when he got his hands on her.
“W-well as to that, my lord, she’s got a mighty persuasive way about her, and young Timmy was no match.”
Young Timmy was his stable boy, and Louis knew the boy would have stood no chance against Ellie’s charms. She would have flashed those delicious dimples, batted her eyelashes, and made him think her ride was all his idea by the time she was trotting from the stables.
“You need say nothing further, Chalmers, I completely understand.”
“The lad’s right worried, my lord.”
“Tell him he has no reason to be,” Louis said as calmly as his boiled spleen allowed. “I place the blame entirely on my wife. Did he see which direction she took?”
“North I believe, my lord.”
Grim-faced, Louis left the stables and galloped north.
“Bloody bothering hell!” he roared for no other reason than he needed the release. What was he to do with that woman? How was he to control someone who seemed uncontrollable?
“Wilful and disobedient, and those are on her good days,” he muttered.
The day was cool and crisp, and the skies blue. He would normally enjoy this time alone. Not today, however. He found signs she had come this way, in the marks left by her horse’s hooves on the grass still covered in dew. He battled his anger and frustration, tried to find the calm he was known for. Yelling would get him nowhere with her.
The problem was she was under his skin. He couldn’t spend more than thirty minutes without her suddenly appearing in his head. Wondering what she was doing, where she was, if she had clothes on.
God, he was a fool. How had he let it come to this? How had he fallen so quickly under her spell? The good thing was she had not realized his capitulation, which would allow him to enforce his will, surely?
He rode for thirty minutes, eyes going from left to right, and each time he thought he’d lost her trail, he found another hoofprint to follow. After an hour had passed, his worry turned to rage at her irresponsible behavi
or. Had she fallen? Would he find her broken body lying on the ground? Dear Christ, the image made him want to bring up his breakfast.
He saw nothing of his land, the rolling hills and ribbons of water that usually brought him peace. Finally, when the tension inside him was so strong he could taste it, he saw her horse resting beside a river. Dismounting with more speed than grace, he ran along the banks until he saw her in the river.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She was drenched, her clothes soaked through, and she appeared to be wrestling with a cow.
“Help, you fool!” She cried.
Blinking at the insult, he shook himself, and then threw off his coat and hat.
“It’s stuck, and exhausted from trying to stay afloat!”
He waded through the waist-high, ice-cold waters, and reached her side.
“Christ, Ellie, you could have drowned.”
“Hardly, I can swim. Now hold it, while I go under the water and see what is still trapping it.”
“You bloody well will not! Hold its head!” Pulling his knife free, he dropped under the water, and saw that one hoof was caught between the branches of a log. He tried to ease it free, but had to go up for air.
“Louis, have a care.”
He glared at his wife through a curtain of hair and water, and once again submerged himself. This time, he managed to force the hoof free before rising.
“It is free,” he gritted out. “Now move aside, and I shall help it to the bank.”
“Idiot,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am wet, I will help,” she said in an angry voice.
He didn’t argue. Instead, between them, they helped the cow to the bank. Once there, it staggered up on wobbly legs, and started grazing.
“No thanks required,” his wife then called to the animal.
“You!” Louis said, pointing a finger at her. He was so angry he could barely form the words. “Are reckless, and entirely irresponsible!”
She was wet through. Her riding habit stuck to her luscious body like a second skin. The sodden skirts would surely have pulled her under the water if she had been in there much longer. The thought nearly choked him.
