More or Less a Marchioness

by Anna Bradley

  Iris released his shaft from her mouth with a wet plop, but she didn’t stop. She pressed her lips to his thick base and slid her fingers over his slick tip, playing with the moisture there as she nibbled at him.

  “Iris.” It was a plea, and a warning.

  She might have continued to play with him, despite his command—after all, he was supposed to be at her mercy—but then she felt his strong hands sink into her hair, and realized he’d torn loose from the cravat binding his wrists.

  “Inside you. Now.” He wrapped her hair around his fist and eased her up the bed until she was sprawled on top of him. “Straddle me, with your legs beside my hips.” He kept one hand in her hair, but pressed the fingers of the other into her hip to help her into position. “Take me inside you.” His lips were pulled back from his teeth, his face nearly savage with stark desire.

  I’m at his mercy now.

  He hissed as she shifted to grasp him and her damp core brushed against his cock. “Spread your legs wider. Yes.” He nudged against her entrance and sucked in a breath when his tip slipped inside her. “Jesus, you’re so slick and hot. Did it make you wet to bind and tease me?”

  Iris’s head began to fall back at the exquisite sensation of him slowly filling her, but Finn gave her hair a sharp tug. “No. Answer me. Why are you so wet, sweet?” He grasped her by the waist and raised her over him, then pulled her down onto his cock, a smile of pure masculine satisfaction curving his lips when she cried out.

  But then he froze, his hazel eyes burning into hers. “You liked having me at your mercy, didn’t you? Would you have sucked me to release if I hadn’t stopped you?”

  She whimpered and squirmed on top of him to try and make him move, but he let out a dark laugh and held her hips still. “No. Not until you tell me. Maybe this will loosen that busy tongue of yours.”

  He leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his hot mouth and sucked, devouring her, and any thought she’d had of resisting him fled as he nipped and teased her. “Yes!” She grasped his head to hold him to her breasts. “I wanted to keep going, to keep you in my mouth until you—”

  “Came.” He thrust his hips up, driving his cock into her once, and then, before she could catch her breath, he jerked his hips hard again, this thrust so powerful she nearly toppled off him.

  Iris gasped, and her hands flew to his chest to steady herself as Finn, wild from her teasing, surged into her again and again, his hands guiding her hips down onto him with each upward stroke. He bit her earlobe, his whispers lost in his ragged breath as he begged her to come, to come for him…

  Her release was hard and sudden, crashing over her like a wave and then sucking her deeper and deeper into the undertow, so deep she was gasping for breath and clinging to Finn as he toppled into his own release with a shout, his body going rigid for a long, heart-stopping moment before it let him loose at last.

  Their skin was flushed and damp and they were both still breathless when he collapsed onto his side and tucked her against his chest, murmuring broken words of desire and love to her as she succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

  When she woke again, weak morning sunlight was filtering through Finn’s window. It was early still, just past dawn, but Iris shrugged off her delicious languor, tossed the covers aside, and struggled to a sitting position.

  Finn wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. “No.”

  “I have to, before Violet comes in search of me.” She gently unwound his arm from her waist and slid from the bed.

  “She won’t be up for hours.” Finn flopped over onto his back with a grumble, then shoved a pillow against the headboard and leaned back against it, watching her as she scrambled to find her clothes.

  Iris tugged her petticoat over her hips and struggled into her skirt. “She rises early, and if she sees even the least sign a debauchery has taken place, she’ll guess everything. I’d rather not be wearing a wrinkled riding habit when she finds me.”

  “Wrinkled, and inside out.” Finn grinned and waved a hand at her. “The skirt, anyway. I’m not sure about the petticoat, but if you’ll come over here and climb into bed, I’d be happy to examine it.”

  Iris scooped her shirt off the floor. “No, indeed, for you’ll have it off me in a trice, and…where in the world is my corset? Have you seen—” She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. “Oh, dear God. We’ve left it in Charlotte’s sitting room!”

  Finn yawned and shoved his hands behind his neck. “You’ll be all right without it. Your bedchamber is just on the other side of the stairwell, and no one will be in the hallways at this hour.”

  She bit her lip, her brows drawn with worry. “But what if someone should find it in the sitting room? They’ll know at once what we’ve been up to! No lady happens to just leave her corset lying about in a sitting room, unless she’s been up to something she shouldn’t!”

  “It’s all right, love. I’ll fetch it. Though if someone did find it, it wouldn’t be so terribly shocking. We’ll be married by the end of the week, after all.”

  Iris was struggling to tuck the ends of her shirt into her skirt, but her head jerked up at his words. “What?”

  He looked taken aback at her incredulous tone. “I spoke to Captain West about it yesterday. We’ll marry here, at Hadley House, before the end of the house party. We need to be wed before we return to London, Iris, to dispel any lingering rumors about you jilting me. I won’t have every half-wit in London gossiping about my wife. Captain West and I discussed it, and we both agree its best this way.”

  “I see.” Iris crossed her arms over chest. “And are you marrying Captain West?”

  “No, I’m marrying you.” Finn stared at her for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. “You look as if you’re contemplating jilting me. Again. For the third time. I swear to you, Iris, if the words ‘we don’t suit’ cross your lips right now—”

  “Oh, hush. Of course I’m going to marry you. Do you think I would have permitted you to…” Her cheeks heated, and she tilted her chin at the bed. “To do that to me if I wasn’t?”

  “As I recall, you did that to me, as well.” He gave her an inviting smile and pulled back the covers. “Now, come back to bed and do it again.”

  “I most certainly will not.” She pressed her lips into a prim line. “You’re incorrigible. What happened to the honorable, proper Marquess of Huntington?”

  “I’ll wear my cravat, if you like.” His eyes gleamed with playful humor.

  Iris fought back a smile, and gave him a stern look. “I’m simply saying I would have preferred you discuss wedding plans with me, rather than with Captain West. You’ll keep that in mind with any future staggeringly important, life-changing events, won’t you?”

  “If you insist. I meant to discuss it with you last night, but I became distracted.” His gazed roved over her, lingering on her unrestrained breasts. “I’m still distracted. I expect I’ll be distracted for many years to come. I may never let you leave the house once we’re wed.”

  Iris flushed with pleasure, and this time she didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Go back to sleep, Lord Huntington. I’ll fetch the corset myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Of all the people who might have caught her sneaking around Hadley House with her clothes askew and her corset tucked under her arm, Iris would have chosen Lady Honora.

  “Iris! Oh, thank goodness. I must speak to you at once!”

  To be fair, she would rather not have been caught at all, but it could have been far worse.

  It could have been Violet.

  Iris turned with a sigh, trudged back down the stairs, and met Honora in the entryway. She hid the corset behind her back and sent up a quick prayer Honora wouldn’t notice it, because there was no plausible explanation for it. For the corset, or the handful of buttons missing from her riding skirt, or her hair
, which hung in tangled knots down her back, as if she’d been rolling about in bed with a marquess all morning.

  Iris winced as another button came loose and hit the marble floor with a ping. Oh, dear God, there was no way Honora would overlook that.

  But Honora didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, Iris. It’s such a dreadful business! He was very wrong to have done it, I know that, and you know how I despise wagering of any kind, but to involve a lady in such a sordid business! But he’s like a brother to me, you see, and I’d forgive him anything.”

  Iris reached out and pulled a leaf from her friend’s hair. “Forgive who? Have you been wandering around in the woods this morning, Honora?”

  Honora raised a distracted hand to her hair. “I’ve just come from the wilderness beyond the garden. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him, least of all Captain West or Lord Huntington, and oh, Iris! I do hope you’ll forgive me for meeting him after he’s been so dreadfully unfair to you.”

  “Honora!” Iris grasped her friend by the shoulders. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Who’s been unfair to me?”

  For one sickening moment Iris was afraid Honora was going to say Lord Huntington, but before her heart had a chance to sink, Honora burst into a flood of tears.

  “Wrexley! He sent me a note this morning by one of the servants. I shouldn’t have gone to meet him, of course I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t say no, even though he’s been so wicked, and—”

  “Why should Lord Wrexley have to send you a note? Why not just see him at breakfast?”

  Honora’s mouth fell open. “What, you mean to say you don’t know? Captain West and Lord Huntington have sent him away, on account of the race!”

  “The race? What…” All of a sudden it dawned on Iris what had Honora so unhinged, and all the blood left her head at once.

  The private horse race Lord Wrexley had arranged—Finn had found out about it.

  Iris squeezed her eyes closed and tried to fend off her dizziness. Dear God, he must have been furious. He’d have gone to Captain West at once and the two of them—and likely Lord Derrick as well—must have hunted Lord Wrexley down and sent him back to London.

  Last night. It had to have happened last night. That’s why Finn had been so late returning to Hadley House. He’d known last night, and he hadn’t told her.

  I meant to discuss it with you last night, but I became distracted.

  This time her heart did sink, right down to the bottom of her slippers. In the space of a single day he’d arranged the details of their wedding, put an end to the horse race, and chased Lord Wrexley away, all without breathing a word to her about any of it. What else had he been too distracted to tell her last night?

  She hadn’t time to dwell on it at the moment, however, because Honora was now sobbing in earnest. “Honora, calm down. It’s upsetting, yes, but you’ll see your cousin as soon as you return to London.”

  “No, I won’t!” Honora wailed, crying harder. “He’s collected the wagers for the race already, and he’s used the money to pay off a debt to Lord Avery. If the race doesn’t take place, he’ll have to pay the money back at once. He doesn’t have it, Iris, and he told me there’s not a gentleman left in London who will accept his vowels. He’ll end up fleeing to the Continent, and then he’ll take back up with that odious Lord Harley and be ruined, and I’ll never see him again!”

  “How do you know all this, Honora?” Iris’s head was spinning. “And if Captain West sent Lord Wrexley away, then how have you just seen him the garden?”

  “He sneaked back.” Honora took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and pressed a crumpled piece of paper into Iris’s hand. “Here. He sent a servant to fetch me, and asked me to give this to you. I read it. Forgive me.”

  Iris unfolded the note, but aside from his apologies and pleas for forgiveness, Lord Wrexley’s note said little more than what Honora had just told her.

  With one exception.

  His companions were still eager to race. If Iris wished to accommodate them, she could meet them tomorrow morning at a field to the east of the Hadley House property, and the race would go off as originally planned. If she won, Lord Wrexley could pay off his debts and remain in London.

  “I don’t ask you to do it.” Honora’s voice was quiet. “He was very wrong to involve you in this. Indeed, I don’t know what to say to you. If I’d known of his wagering, I never would have suggested you encourage his courtship.” Another tear slid down Honora’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, Iris.”

  “There, now. Don’t cry. You must know I don’t blame you.” Iris enveloped her friend in a tight hug, but even as she murmured comforting words to Honora, her mind was testing and discarding one idea after the next to find a way out of this new tangle.

  By the time she’d soothed Honora into a semblance of calm, she had the beginnings of a plan. “Find Violet, Honora, and bring her to Lady Hadley’s sitting room. I’ll go fetch Lady Tallant and Lady Hadley.”

  There was only one thing to do that made the least bit of sense.

  It was time to call in the ladies.

  * * * *

  “You don’t owe Lord Wrexley a thing. You do realize that, Iris?”

  Violet had been pacing in front of the glass doors that led from the sitting room onto the terrace ever since Iris, with some tearful assistance from Honora, told them the truth about Lord Wrexley.

  “Let’s put aside the question of the race for a moment. You might have married Lord Wrexley, Iris, and if you had, you can be sure your fortune would have ended in the pockets of every scoundrel in London. Forgive me, Honora,” Violet added, her face softening when Honora began to weep again.

  “I still can’t quite believe it. Such a gentlemanly man. I never would have suspected this of him.” Charlotte shook her head, her lips pulled tight.

  Iris glanced at Lady Annabel, who was the only one who hadn’t looked the least bit surprised to learn of Lord Wrexley’s perfidy. She raised an eyebrow at Iris in an unspoken question, and Iris gave her a tiny nod.

  Lady Annabel cleared her throat. “Lord Huntington, Iris. What of that matter?”

  “He’s…that is to say, we’re both…well, it’s all rather complicated—”

  Violet, who’d never had much patience for equivocation, threw up her hands at this. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Iris. It’s not as if anything you’ve said this morning makes the least bit of sense. Just say it, won’t you?”

  “Very well, then. We’re betrothed.”

  “What?” Violet stared at her. “How can you be betrothed? You’ve jilted him!”

  “Twice.” Lady Annabel hid a smile behind her teacup. “But as they say, the third time’s the lucky one.”

  “Twice? Whatever do you mean?” Violet looked from Lady Annabel to Iris, her eyes narrowed, but when neither of them answered, she threw up her hands and resumed her furious pacing. “Are you only marrying Lord Huntington because Lord Wrexley’s out of the question now? I know you’re worried about what Grandmother will say, and you want to avoid a scandal, but those are not sound reasons to marry. Grandmother will reconcile herself to the circumstances, and the scandal will fade, but a marriage is forever, Iris.”

  “Not always.” Lady Annabel took a polite sip of her tea. “Just as well, too, in some cases.”

  No one seemed to know quite what to say to that, and a brief silence descended, but then Iris cleared her throat. “It’s not the scandal, or Grandmother, Violet. It’s…I was wrong about Lord Huntington. He’s really quite…well, I know he might not seem so from a casual acquaintance, but he’s nothing at all like I imagined he was.”

  “You’re in love with him,” Violet said, her tone both relieved and irritated at once. “Well, Iris. I’m happy for you, but you could have saved us all a great deal of fuss and bother if you’d realized that two weeks ago.”

/>   Lady Annabel laughed. “Ah, Miss Violet. I think you’ll find when it’s your turn love is many things, but convenient isn’t one of them.”

  Violet darted a quick look at Lady Honora, then looked away. “I don’t intend to take another turn.”

  “Well, I think it’s lovely.” For the first time that morning, Honora smiled. “I’m very pleased for you, Iris.”

  “Yes, it’s a good match. I’ll think they’ll suit.” Lady Annabel winked at Iris. “But of course Lord Huntington won’t be at all pleased over this race business. I assume you’re thinking of racing, Iris, or you wouldn’t have called us here at such an ungodly hour.”

  “I’m considering it, yes.”

  Violet groaned. “Oh, no. Lord Huntington’s going to go mad when he hears of this. Really, Iris, you do know how to ruin an otherwise perfectly lovely house party. Why in the world would you choose to race?”

  “Because Lord Wrexley is Honora’s cousin, Violet, and he’ll be obliged to flee to the Continent if he has to forfeit the money from this wager.”

  He might simply turn around and wager it again, of course—wagering was a sickness, and it was made worse when one escaped the consequences of it, not better. But if Lord Wrexley stayed in England, there was at least a chance Honora and Lady Fairchild could help him, whereas if he fled to the Continent, he’d never return.

  But there was more to it than that, and it had nothing to do with Lord Wrexley. Violet was right—Iris didn’t owe him a thing. Quite the opposite.

  And yet…

  She couldn’t quite forget it had been Lord Wrexley who’d encouraged her to run races with him on the lawn that day, and Lord Wrexley who’d arranged her first ride with Chaos. Oh, he hadn’t done it for her, of course. His intentions toward her had been far from honorable. Finn had been right all along when he said Lord Wrexley was only concerned with his own satisfaction.

  But however villainous his intentions, Lord Wrexley’s feigned charm and wicked schemes had led to Iris finding a part of herself again. A part she treasured, and one she might have lost for good if he hadn’t happened along. She no longer had any illusions about Lord Wrexley. He wasn’t a good man, but this race wasn’t about him at all.