The Earl's Forsaken Bride

by Tammy Andresen

  “It does not,” she gasped then, giving it the tiniest squeeze. That only made him groan again and a peak at his face showed a tortured look. “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No lass. It feels good.” He rasped out, his voice hoarse and wanton as she gave it another squeeze, feeling its length for a second time.

  “It’s so large. I can’t see how it will fit.” Were all men built like this? She’d once heard a tavern wench complaining that her customers were all lightly hung. She hadn’t a clue what the women had been talking about but if she were asked to make a wager, Callum would not be classified as such.

  He brought his own hand over hers to assist her movements. “It will fit,” he grunted between breaths.

  “You’re sure?” Her movements grew more bold. It was gratifying to give him pleasure in this way. Her nipples tightened as they pressed together.

  “I’m sure,” he said, his breath ragged.

  “I want to see what it looks like,” she whispered. The juncture of her own legs throbbed as she tightened her thighs to ease the ache.

  But he didn’t respond as his body gave a giant shudder, and he claimed her lips again, groaning into her mouth.

  Finally, his breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. “You’ll see soon enough,” he whispered. “But not until we’re married.”

  Disappointment made her shrink back a bit, his words like rejection. But his hands reached under her behind and lifted her up to press her closer to him. Her arms went around his neck and he kissed her again. While one arm held her easily in the air, the other started searching under her skirts. “Wrap yer legs around me lass.”

  As she did so, the aching part of her sex pressed against him in the most gratifying way. Just then his hand found the slit in her pantaloons and his fingers brushed against her folds. She cried out, his mouth swallowing the sound as Elizabeth pressed more firmly against him.

  In all her imaginings, and she had to confess to having them, she’d never pictured this. This intense desire, aching need that was filling her. His lightly stroked her, slowly exploring her most intimate place. She found herself moving with him, trying to tell him with her body that she wanted more.

  He began a rhythmic movement that grew faster in tempo with each passing minute. His touch sent her spiraling out of control until she was trembling with a need she hadn’t thought possible. His name fell from her lips in a moan. “Callum,”

  He kissed her again, silencing her plea until finally she shattered around him as lights shone behind her lids.

  “That was beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her over and over.

  “It was,” she replied, her fingers tangling into his hair. She knew she should say more, but her brain wouldn’t form the words. Her head tilted back, as though too heavy to stay upright. He slid his palm up to support it. She’d no idea being close to a man would feel so good.

  He bent forward and gave her a long lingering kiss then. “It gets better,” he chuckled against her lips.

  “That can’t be true,” she said, looking into his eyes, disbelief ringing in her voice.

  “It is, lass. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

  Her toes curled in her boots. She could hardly wait.

  As soon as Ewan arrived, they made their way to town. Elizabeth dropped off the laundry she’d washed, then they stopped to purchase more food and Callum plucked a bottle of almond oil from the shelf. “It doesnae matter to me, lass. But I thought ye might like it fer yer hands.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. She was proud of the work she’d done, supporting herself. But the change from ladies hands to ones that had worked hard had been difficult. The oil was a lovely treat.

  Once at the dress shop, the dressmaker recognized Elizabeth and gave her a hairy eye when she came in with Callum behind her. It wasn’t untoward for the man she was about to marry to purchase dresses for her but as Callum was a stranger, it must have seemed odd to the dressmaker who’d only ever seen Elizabeth with her aunt.

  “Who’s this then?” The dressmaker placed her hands on her hips, looking her up and down. “What have you been doing that a random man is purchasing dresses for you?”

  Elizabeth felt her face flush with embarrassment. She wasn’t used to others doing for her and it seemed peculiar to her as well. She’d told Callum several times during the short ride to town that he needn’t purchase the dresses. Callum growled behind her, halting her thoughts and startling both the shopkeeper and herself.

  “I’m her intended.” His voice was low but still dangerous. “Ye’ll fit her with two dresses or we’ll take our business elsewhere.”

  The dressmaker said no more as she rushed to do his bidding.

  “Do people often treat ye like that?” he asked after as the other woman had left.

  Elizabeth shrugged. Except in rare moments like these, their treatment usually didn’t bother her. While she was ashamed of her father, she’d been raised a lady, and that meant she held her head high no matter the circumstances. “I pay them no mind. I know my worth.”

  He placed his hand on the small of her back and leaned in to whisper, “I’m proud of ye, lass.”

  “You are?” She turned to him, a lightness filling her chest. “My aunt has always loved me no matter what I did or who I am. My father saw my beauty as a means to an end. I didn’t know my mother, but I’d always hoped she’d be proud of me.” As he held her gaze, her happiness bubbled inside of her. “It means so much that my future husband should be proud to call me wife.”

  He stared at her then, as though searching for words, but the dressmaker stepped back into the room. “I’ve pulled a few dresses for you to try on, miss.”

  “My lady,” Callum growled again, his head snapping up. “She is Lady Elizabeth.”

  Chapter Six

  A lump in Callum’s throat made it difficult to swallow. First, because her need for his approval nearly brought him to his knees. Elizabeth deserved to be lifted high above mere men, and instead, life had beaten her down low.

  Second, because she stepped in front of him wearing an everyday dress that should have looked mundane, but instead she appeared angelic. He couldn’t wait to wrap her in the finest silks and softest wools. He’d have his tartan made into a wrap and cover her in nothing else as he slowly made love—

  “Doesn’t she look exquisite?” the dressmaker gushed, clearly deciding to participate whole-heartedly in the sale. She likely thought he might buy more dresses or she was attempting to make up for her earlier behavior.

  “Aye,” he returned barely taking his eyes off Elizabeth. “We’ll take another and be out of yer way.” He had every intention of buying her many dresses, but not from this woman.

  They left the shop with Elizabeth wearing one of the gowns they had purchased. A dark blue habit of sturdy material, perfect for traveling. As she tucked her now-gloved hand into the crook of his arm, she beamed up at him. “You didn’t have to purchase anything for me, but it is lovely to be in a real dress again.”

  He stopped, passing their parcels to the driver and then handing her into the carriage. As the door snapped shut, he pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her. “I plan to purchase ye a great deal more.” He found her lips as she settled between his thighs. The carriage began rumbling down the street but they hardly noticed.

  Finally, she broke away from his kiss. “Much as I appreciate that, I couldn’t possibly accept. I’ll have to find a way to purchase appropriate clothing for myself—”

  His mouth hung open as he looked at her then. “As yer husband, I’ll take care of any needs that ye have.”

  “Like my father?” she bit out, leaning away from him then.

  “I already told ye, lass, I’ll make sure ye’ve got yer own money that will keep ye from ever doin’ laundry agin.”

  She huffed a breath. “I thought you understood. I know I don’t have much. I wasn’t doing a wonderful job of it, but I was taking care of myself. And
while I will be your wife, I still want some measure of independence. I never want to be taken unawares like that again.”

  He stared at her, trying to understand what the bloody hell she was talking about. He would always provide for her. He would never leave her in the lurch as her father had done. “I’m not going have you taken in laundry while yer my countess.”

  She wrenched off his lap then and sat across from him, crossing her arms. “After the war, were you the same man?”

  “Gads, no.” He scratched his head mystified why she wouldn’t want a proper wardrobe.

  “Well, I’m not the same woman either. And I can’t just spend your money and dress myself up in shiny jewels and pretend that women aren’t suffering because they put their fate in a man’s hands. I won’t be a pretty little fool again.” Her hands were clenched into fists. “You told me earlier you were proud of me. Will that last when all I do is shop? What about after my looks fade?”

  He swallowed, beginning to understand. He hadn’t wanted a wife content to smile and be pretty. He’d wanted a woman who understood the darker parts of life. But because of that, she couldn’t just play the part of countess as so many women would happily did. The question that remained, was how would she be his countess and a laundress? “I’m no shining beacon of happiness. And I didn’t want a wife who couldn’t weather the dark times, when they come. But I also want some measure of a normal life or I wouldnae be marryin’.”

  Her face fell, crumbling in pain and it made his heart ache. “Do you wish to call off our engagement?”

  The answer was clear to him though the why of it was less so. “Nae, lass. But we’ll have to work to find a solution that suits us both. Though I don’t ken what it is.”

  She gave him a cursory smile, but there was a sadness that hadn’t been there before and as they sat across from one another, he wasn’t sure how to bring them back together. Or if he should. He wanted her to be his wife, but it would be better if they maintained more of a distance. He didn’t need his heart—what little of it remained—entangled in this; he wished to keep it intact.

  Clearing his throat, he tried to change the subject. “I’ll start on the roof as soon as we return. I can finish it once we’re back from Gretna Green.”

  She jerked her chin down to show she understood but maintained her silence. He wanted to pull her back into his lap but he refrained.

  Elizabeth longed to kiss him, or box his ear, or both. She didn’t rightly know.

  So instead she ignored him as she looked out the window.

  He was right of course. That was the maddening part about it. She couldn’t take in laundry as a countess. And she’d have to dress the part. She didn’t know a single woman who would feel squeamish about her husband, father, or brother clothing or feeding her. It was simply the way it was done.

  But Elizabeth remembered the first months after her father died. The hunger and the fear. But more than that, she realized her own self-worth in hard work. The thought of giving that up, well it hurt.

  But a tiny voice cried out that Aunt Mary deserved the life Callum would provide, the comforts that came with it, and she’d be a fool to deny that. Or that she wanted the comforts he’d provide too and she didn’t mean the clothing or the home.

  Her body yearned for the feel of him, the strength he exuded when she lay against his chest, and the safety he provided.

  “If you’ll be working late, I’ll start a stew,” she spoke softly, not looking at him. She’d end up tossing herself across the carriage and into his arms if she did.

  “That sounds nice, lass. Thank ye.”

  His voice rumbled over her, making her body ache for him. But she couldn’t let her body rule her mind. “You’re welcome,” she replied automatically.

  “Look at me, lass,” he commanded from across the carriage. She blinked several times but found herself doing as he bid. A woman could get lost in the depth of those dark eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, her hands balling into fists into her skirts. She’d been right. Looking at him made her want to touch him.

  “Don’t be upset with me for wantin’ to ease yer burdens.” His voice was soft in the intimacy of the carriage. “I can’t help that even after a day, I don’t like to see ye suffer.”

  She did exactly as she feared and promptly crossed the carriage, his strong arms pulling her back into his waiting warmth. “I don’t. I mean, you’re right.” She knew for her sake, and Aunt Mary’s that they’d marry. Later, she would find a way to make her life as meaningful as it had been these past two years.

  His lips found hers then and they clung together. Elizabeth had the nagging suspicion that Callum was just as afraid of losing himself as she was of being lost to marriage.

  The next day dawned bright and early and Callum arrived at first light with a hired hack. Ewan had been able to book passage and had been eager to return to Scotland and his family. Mrs. Baker had come to stay with her aunt for the next three days, thanks to Callum. He’d given her a nice sum for her efforts. Elizabeth found herself, once again, sitting across from her darkly handsome earl.

  She’d packed a basket of food so they needn’t stop. At least that was what she told herself, and it had seemed sound. But now the basket was clutched in her lap, a physical barrier between them.

  When he’d left the prior evening, they’d been in good spirits but as she lay in bed the events of yesterday had played over and over in her mind. The touching, her own misgivings, and the misunderstandings.

  They said little as they made their way to Gretna Green and by mid afternoon they’d arrived. Callum sought out a blacksmith who agreed to perform the ceremony that evening.

  “I’d forgotten how much more relaxed Scotland is,” she murmured taking a deep breath of air.

  He gave an easy grin, his shoulders relaxing too. “Why’d ye leave?”

  “My father was English. The cottage was the only asset left not taken by his debtors. Frankly, we were lucky to have it.” A frown creased her brow. Her grandfather had been lord of the land. Just like herself, it had done little to protect her or her aunt. Though she supposed a small cottage was better than nothing at all.

  “I see,” he replied a gentle hand at her back as they entered an inn to procure a room for the night. This would be her wedding night. Butterflies danced in her stomach anew, her past pushed aside for thoughts of her future.

  Callum ordered water brought to the room for bathing. Clearing his throat as the buckets arrived, he stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave ye to it.” Then he was gone.

  Elizabeth blinked at the door as it closed, and began undressing herself. A bath would feel delicious after hours in the carriage. She had to admit, she missed Callum’s presence in the room. Stepping into the water, she thought about the parts of marriage she eagerly awaited. One of them was being held in Callum’s strong arms.

  As she scrubbed herself, she thought about the feel of his strong arms. What would it be like if he were scrubbing her? The thought made her tingle all over as she climbed out of the water.

  Just as she replaced her own clothing, the door opened again and Callum strode in. He filled the room, his large frame, rousing excitement and desire within her.

  “How was yer bath?” His deep voice rumbled through her.

  “It felt lovely,” she said feeling her cheeks heat. Talking with him after the deliciously debaucherous thoughts she’d had made her slightly embarrassed.

  “I’d like to bathe as well before our nuptials. I won’t send ye to the common room by yerself so ye’ll have to turn around if ye don’t want tae see me.” He gave her a wicked grin as he started stripping off his shirt.

  Part of her wanted to stay exactly as she was. Her curiosity desperate to be fulfilled. But he’d given her privacy and she’d do the same. Despite her curiosity, she’d learn all about him soon enough. With a small smile, Elizabeth turned around. Moments later, she heard the water slosh in the tub. “Is it cold?”

&nb
sp; “It’s fine, lass,” he replied. She could hear him scrubbing. “Feels good after today.”

  She smoothed the folds of her new dress, looking out the window into an alley below. “Tell me about your home.”

  “Our home,” he returned. “I live on the sea in East Kilbride. We mine salt and small amounts of coal. It’s profitable for myself and the people I care for.”

  “You’ve a gentleness that I’m sure makes you an excellent land owner.” She continued to look out the window as she spoke.

  “It will be your job as well to help me care for those people.” He got out of the tub and she could hear him dressing. “I don’t know if it’s what ye had in mind but those people need someone to tend to them.”

  She nodded. It would be enough. It had to be.

  An hour later, they made their way back to the smithy who was to perform their ceremony. His wife and brother were with him to stand as witnesses.

  He tied a ribbon around their hands joining them together. The contact made Elizabeth breathless as she looked up into Callum’s eyes. Joined like this, an emotion was spreading through her that was difficult to identify. As though she’d do anything for Callum. The man who had swept into her life and helped her save her aunt. The man who made her wanton with desire. Dear lord, did she love him?

  “Callum Tate,” the blacksmith’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. “Will ye take this woman to be yer lawfully wedded wife?”

  “I do.”

  Callum’s brogue washed over her, spreading warmth through her body. She did love him.

  “And do ye take this man to be yer lawfully wedded husband?” The smithy looked to her.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t still have doubts. She did. But she knew she had to try and work past them. A man such as this would never enter her life again. “I do,” she answered.

  Their hands entwined, she tried to tell him with her eyes that she would love him, try to be content with the role of wife. It was her duty.