Viscount of Vanity

by Tammy Andresen

  Her legs wobbled a bit, and without thought, he wrapped a protective arm about her waist, surprised by how natural touching her felt.

  They made their way inside, and without a word, she left his embrace and stepped into the tiny kitchen. He built a fire in the hearth and then followed her into the tiny cooking area.

  With sure hands, she began pulling out flour, eggs, salted pork, and the like. Lighting the stove with a coal from the fire and a pair of billows, she began cooking.

  “You’ve done this before.”

  She looked over her shoulder with a nod. “Yes. My father has kept our home, his home, though he let go most of the staff and sold off much of the land.”

  Austin shook his head. “You mentioned tending him. Did you cook his meals often?”

  She gave a stiff nod. “Of course.”

  “Cleaning?”

  Her lips pressed together. “Yes.”

  Anger rose inside him again. She was a lady, a beautiful one at that, who’d been playing the part of servant to a drunk. He wanted to pull her away from the stove but then…they wouldn’t eat either. While he’d furnished the cottage with food, he hadn’t brought in any staff. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  He said nothing as she worked but silently pulled down plates as she removed the egg mixture from the stove. It smelled heavenly and she gave him a generous serving.

  He took both the plates and stepped into the small dining area, where he set them down at opposite ends of the table.

  She followed with silverware and two cups of tea.

  Austin wasn’t much of a drinker. He didn’t like the loss of control, but in this moment, he wished for something stronger.

  Tea didn’t quite seem sturdy enough.

  He pulled out her chair and then slid into his own.

  Silently they began to eat.

  He had so much to say and yet, he wasn’t certain where to start. And so, he allowed her to eat in peace.

  He took a bite of the eggs she’d prepared and nearly groaned in pleasure. It had been hours since he’d eaten, and the meal was delicious. The eggs were creamy with exactly the right amount of salt from the pork.

  He took another bite and then another. Before he knew it, his plate was empty. “Thank you,” he said. He felt far more prepared for the discussion to come with a full stomach. As his gaze lifted, he looked over at her to realize she’d barely touched her food. His eyes narrowed. “Gabriella.”

  She looked down too. “After all that’s happened today, I find I’m not all that hungry.”

  He leaned his elbows on the table. “Please eat. I’ll talk as you do.”

  She shrugged and then raised a bite of food to her lips. Her hands were still a bit shaky and he frowned in concern. He waited until she took another bite to begin.

  He drew in a deep breath. “I feel the need to be honest with you. I planned to marry at some point. My title demands it, but it was not an institution I considered with any sort of…zeal.”

  She set down her fork and he gestured for her to eat more. With a small tic in her eyebrow, she did as he bid, picking up the fork and placing a delicate bite of egg on it.

  He cleared his throat and then continued. “Still, I find you to be a suitable match for me. You’ll bear beautiful children, you’re refined, elegant, and more than capable of the duties that would befall a viscountess if you’ve managed an entire house on your own.”

  She’d been about to take another bite, but the fork lowered again. “There will be children?”

  “Of course,” he answered, gesturing with his hand for her to take another bite. “I’ll need an heir and a spare at the least.”

  She took three more bites, seeming to relax. “That is excellent news. I would very much like to be a mother. Mine was wonderful and I—” She stopped. “I should warn you. I have a tendency to prattle on when excited.”

  He smiled. That sort of self-knowledge was encouraging.

  She took three more bites and, having eaten a substantial portion of her meal, he leaned forward. “Now, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to speak on a few of my limitations.”

  Chapter Four

  Limitations….

  Her fork stilled though she did not set it down again. He’d only tell her to pick it up.

  She should have known the conversation would not continue so…hopefully. Of course there was bad news coming. She’d just been sold like a sow at market. How could that end well? Her stomach tightened. She had known. Which is why she’d been so nervous.

  Every time she got comfortable today, something else jumped up to knock her off kilter again.

  Her husband was handsome, titled. There had to be a reason he’d chosen a bride at a ridiculous auction in a church in a village far from London.

  The question was, could she live with whatever he was about to say?

  He cleared his throat again. “I am not all that interested in the physical aspects of a relationship.”

  She blinked. He’d held her in his arms against his body, escorted her inside on his arm. She’d felt warm and cherished in his arms. What did he mean? “Physical?”

  She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Relations. Between a man and a wife.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, unable to say another word. She thanked heaven for her darker skin even as heat flared in her cheeks. “That.”

  He looked away from her then, tension evident in every line of his face. “It is irregular. Especially with a woman like you.”

  Her? What about her was irregular? But she listened rather than speaking. Because, if she were honest, she could be in a far worse situation at this exact moment. Some of those men had looked hard and rough. Some would not give her the indulgence of a conversation and explanation. They’d come and take whatever they wanted from her.

  But what did it mean to have a marriage where a man was not interested in…relations? A wave of disappointment washed through her, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Hours ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of being married and having relations. And now, she’d have to give it up? She touched her forehead, confused.

  “We’ll have to engage at some point if there are to be children, of course, but we’ll keep it as brief and minimally engaging as possible.”

  “I see,” she answered, not really understanding anything he was saying. That wasn’t true. She understood the vague outlines of his meaning. He didn’t wish to share a bed with her. Or he wished to share it as little as possible.

  But she had no idea how that would actually affect her marriage. Very much or very little? She hadn’t a clue. “Would you say you’re a kind man or a cruel one?”

  That made him smile, visibly relaxing. “My friends would tell you I am exceptionally even-tempered.”

  “Do you indulge in an excess of drinking?”

  He grimaced. “No. I don’t care for spirits except on the rare occasion.”

  She nodded, taking another bite of her egg. “I can accept those terms if all you have said is true.”

  He didn’t respond for several seconds, so long that she shifted in her seat as she looked at him. What was he not saying?

  His jaw worked, a muscle ticcing in his cheek and then he stood. “Excellent. Since you did me the kindness of cooking, allow me to clear the mess.”

  She blinked, surprised. Her father would never make such an offer and she relaxed. He appeared to be a far nicer man than the one who raised her, and if that was the truth, she really was lucky.

  “Can I ask you a question?” She stood too, then followed him into the kitchen.

  “Go on.” He removed his waistcoat and began rolling up his sleeves. She noted the strength evident in those arms. Even in the simple act of washing dishes, his muscles rippled.

  “Will you,” she hesitated as she watched him wipe out the cast iron pan she’d used for cooking. “Will you bear some affection for me?”

  He stilled, and setting the pan down, turned toward her. “I will bear all the
affection a man feels for the woman and children who are in his charge. I’ll care for you, see you fed, clothed, you’ll be given pin money, and I’ll allow no one to hurt you ever.”

  She nodded, then, her hands pressing her hands to her stomach. “Then I am content.”

  “Good,” he grunted, returning to the pan. “I shall bring in water to heat for a bath for you. I can see you keep your clothes very clean despite their wear, but tomorrow we’ll replace them.”

  A bath sounded lovely. This morning had left her feeling…dirty. “I can bring the water in.”

  He looked back at her again, this time giving her a genuine smile. “These are the sort of things you’ll have to get used to someone doing for you.”

  That sent a little trill of hope racing down her spine. “I shall try my very best.”

  He chuckled. “Good.”

  He finished washing the plates and then, after wiping his hands, grabbed two empty buckets. “I shall be right back, my lady.”

  With a tentative nod, she leaned in the doorway, watching out the window as he stepped into the yard and worked the water pump, filling both the buckets with water.

  His arms moved with an ease that nearly left her breathless. She wished, as she had many times this last week, that her mother was still alive. So much would be different. But even more importantly, she needed to ask someone what she’d just agreed to with a man she didn’t know.

  * * *

  The day passed in awkward comfort.

  The cottage was quiet, warm, and cozy. Austin hadn’t sat like this, in quiet companionship, in years. But the woman who occupied it with him was…distracting.

  How in the bloody hell was he going to keep his hands to himself? What man would he be if he didn’t?

  He should have married some unattractive society chit. One with whom he’d have no problem entering into a passionless bargain.

  But Gabriella…she was the last woman he wanted to leave alone.

  Even now, he wanted to press her against him again. He’d been replaying the feel of her in his arms in the carriage over and over until he ached with the memory of it.

  And by ache, he referred to the appendage between his legs that had been hard as granite all day.

  He rumbled with dissatisfaction. He needed to run until he pushed his lungs to exhaustion. Or perhaps he would pull up on a bar until his arms ached from the effort. Mayhap both.

  Then he could wear out his body, keep careful track of his lung power, and collapse into bed too tired to think any more about the feel of Gabriella’s curves pressed against him.

  The problem…there was only one bed in this place. The one he’d share with her.

  His teeth clenched and she looked over at him. She’d curled up with a book she’d found in the cottage, looking as content as a cat who’d been given a saucer of milk.

  But she sensed his tension. He knew that she did, and she shifted.

  He scrubbed his jaw, not at all surprised she was sensitive to his shifts in mood. She likely had to be, to grow up the way she had, with a man like her father. And he didn’t intend to make her uncomfortable. Austin was just struggling with the decisions he’d made in haste this morning.

  Though he couldn’t quite regret saving her…

  “Would you mind if I stepped out for a bit? I saw a pile of wood that needs splitting and I’d like to repay Chad for his hospitality.”

  “Chad?” she asked, leaning forward. “The Baron of Blackwater?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “He must be a very good friend for the two of you to be so familiar.”

  “I suppose he is,” Austin said as he stood.

  “Does he call you by your given name?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know that he does.”

  She stood too, her hands folding. “It’s just that I…” She took a half step closer and he caught a whiff of her scent. Lavender, from the soap she’d used. He drew in a deep breath, wanting more of her, of her smell. “I don’t know your given name. Or what to call you, precisely.”

  Austin could have smacked his own face. How had he overlooked that detail? “My name is Austin.”

  “Austin,” she tested the name giving him a warm grin. “I like that name. Austin and Gabriella.”

  The sound of their two names joined together made his hand tighten into fists as he resisted the urge to pull her close.

  “I’m glad.” He took a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just outside.”

  But an hour of chopping wood brought him little relief from the aching heaviness that had settled in his loins. And when he returned inside, he found her at the stove, once again making a meal for him.

  A delightful-smelling concoction of beef and carrots.

  She turned to smile at him over her shoulder. His breath caught as he looked at her. “Is there any wine about? My father would rarely allow me to cook with it, but I hear that red wine adds a depth to this dish.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I didn’t think to stock it.”

  She gave a small jerk of her chin in acknowledgment. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted…” She looked down at the floor again. “I wanted the dish to be good for you.”

  He let out a low grumble, deep in his throat. She was so kind and considerate, in addition to her other attributes, that he didn’t know how he might survive the next few days, let alone the rest of his life. “I am certain the dish will be delicious.”

  She continued to cook, and he sat in a chair with little else to do but watch as she chopped and stirred, rich smells making his stomach rumble with hunger.

  He’d worn himself out with the work, though he’d done little to stem the rising desire pulsing through his veins.

  And as she once again set a steaming plate of food in front of him, he gave her a tight smile, trying not to look at her.

  He ate instead as tender beef melted in his mouth.

  Once the meal was done and the mess cleaned up, they settled in to read again. He should ask her about herself. Learn more. Because if he didn’t, there was little else to do but go to bed…

  And that was sure to be a disaster.

  A complete and total mess.

  Chapter Five

  Gabriella lay in the rather narrow bed hugging the very edge of the mattress, completely aware of the heat rolling off her husband in alluring waves.

  Though he did his best not to touch her either, she was aware of every square inch of him. How could she not be?

  He took up the vast majority of the bed.

  For the third time, he looked over at her. “I can sleep in the other room.”

  And for the third time, she looked back over at him. “Don’t be silly.” She understood his point. This situation was…uncomfortable. And she began to understand the compromise she was making in agreeing to this bargain.

  It was her wedding night. She didn’t know much but she did know that the nuptials were supposed to be consummated. She’d heard whispers from other girls about pain, about intimacy, about men rutting.

  She was certain this wasn’t what they’d been referring to.

  And she had no one else to ask what exactly they had meant.

  “Austin.” She turned over to look at his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He gave the softest sigh, so quiet she might have missed it as he turned over onto his back. “Yes.”

  She nibbled her lip, looking at his profile. “What exactly are…relations?”

  She saw agony flash across his face as his eyes squeezed shut. “Something I’m trying not to think about.”

  She wanted to ask why he wasn’t interested in them, but perhaps she’d tackle one topic at a time. “Why? Why are they so bad for you?”

  He reached up a hand and scrubbed his face. “They’re not bad. In fact, most people partake rather zestfully. But…”

  “Relations are how children are made?”

  He looked at her then, his jaw a bit slack. “H
ow old were you when your mother passed?”

  “Twelve.”

  He drew in a long breath. “So she explained none of this to you?”

  “None,” she confirmed, propping up on an elbow.

  He gave a low groan. Then he drew in a ragged breath as her own chest tightened with unease. She hadn’t wanted to ask but who else would tell her? With his hand still over his eyes, he pointed down. “I have a staff.”

  “A staff?” She trailed her gaze down his body and that’s when she noticed the place where the covers rose up in a tent. “Oh!”

  He let out a low growl. “And you have an opening.”

  Her eyes grew wider. Something between her legs pulsed as though it were answering his words. Her own breath hitched, and her heart beat faster.

  “I put my…staff in your opening and place my seed in your womb.”

  It was her turn to cover her face with her hands. “No wonder sharing a bed is so awkward.”

  That made him chuckle. “Normally on our wedding night we’d partake in the activity but—”

  “You’re not interested,” she finished for him.

  He looked over her. “Actually, I thought as we only met this morning, it might be nicer to get to know one another a bit more.”

  She dropped her hand. “How…kind. But we will eventually partake in relations?”

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  She wanted to ask again why he wished to avoid them, but this conversation had been difficult enough. “If you’d prefer to just get it over with…”

  He choked a bit, going on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “No. Thank you.”

  She reached out and tentatively touched his shoulder. “Thank you for being so kind. I appreciate it very much.”

  He tensed under her bare fingers and shrugged away from her. “You’re welcome.”

  She withdrew her hand, laying her head back down on the pillow. “I’ll rely on your judgment.”