by Brenda Hiatt
Her head still spinning from the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced, Violet could not immediately form a coherent reply. Even when reason finally returned, the reality seemed too good to be true. Rush, her longtime romantic ideal, not only loved her but wished to marry her on the spot!
“That…sounds like an excellent plan, my lord,” she said at last. “Or may I call you Rush, as my brother does?”
“You may. In fact I infinitely prefer it. Now, if we are to make our declaration in form and have it properly recorded, I suppose we should call our host back.”
When the man appeared, Rush canceled one of their two rooms and asked him to send for the parson.
“He’s still here,” the innkeeper told them with a grin. “Stopped in the taproom for a pint after hitching the last couple. I’ll get him.”
To Violet’s amusement—and bemusement—the parson proved to be the same Mr. Elliot who had married Grant and Dina in December, in this very hotel. If he recognized her, however, he gave no sign. No doubt he performed so many hurried weddings he had difficulty remembering them all—and Violet had been but an onlooker then, not the bride.
The innkeeper showed them into a parlor for the formalities, where Mr. Elliot asked whether they preferred the shorter wedding ceremony or a longer, more traditional one.
Rush turned to Violet. “What think you? The difference in fee does not signify if it matters to you.”
Violet, romantic that she was, had been disappointed when Grant and Dina opted for the shortened version. Now, however, she felt rather inclined to follow their example, given how well their marriage had turned out.
“The briefer one, I think. Particularly as I should very much like a wash before dinner.”
“As you wish.” Rush gave her a smile that quickened her pulse before nodding to the parson.
With the innkeeper and his wife standing as witnesses, Mr. Elliot opened his register and recorded their full names, places of residence, and sworn statements that neither was already married.
“Have you both come here of your own free will and accord?” he then asked them both.
“We have,” they said together. Violet felt unaccountably tempted to giggle again.
“Ryan Rowland Dean, Lord Rushford, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, keeping only to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” He locked his gaze with Violet’s. Laughter forgotten, her heart swelled within her at the tender expression in his eyes.
Turning to Violet, Mr. Elliot asked the same question.
“I do.” She did not know why her voice quivered, for she felt no reluctance whatsoever to make the vow.
“Have you a ring?”
Clearly startled by the question, Rush’s brows rose in consternation. “Er, no. I am afraid not.”
“I have one here for purchase, if you wish.” He pulled a band of what appeared to be brass from his pocket.
“I believe we will forego the ring for now,” Rush told him. Then, to Violet, “I will rectify the lack immediately upon our return to London.”
She grinned up at him, refusing to acknowledge the trembling in her stomach as the enormity of what they were doing sank in. “I am willing to wait,” she assured him.
“In that case, Lord Rushford, please repeat after me,” Mr. Elliot said. “With these vows, I thee wed; with my body, I thee worship; with all my worldly goods I thee endow; in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He did so. The parson then placed Violet’s hand in Rush’s and had her repeat, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
Mr. Elliot then declared them man and wife before God and the witnesses and asked them to sign the register, which both did.
Rush paid the man’s fee and…it was over. Violet could scarcely believe it. Ten minutes ago she had been plain Violet Turpin and now she was the Countess of Rushford. How could it be possible that they were truly married?
The innkeeper and his wife offered perfunctory congratulations as the parson left, but Violet scarcely heard them. Instead, she was looking at Rush, trying to divine his feelings. Was he as overwhelmed by their abruptly changed circumstances as she was?
He politely responded to the well-wishes, then turned to smile down at her. “So now we’ve done it. No turning back. Any regrets, Lady Rushford?”
Though her feeling of unreality increased at hearing her new name, she mutely shook her head.
“Good. Now, did you not say you wished to freshen up before dinner?”
Violet felt her face pinken, but struggled to retain her composure. “I…yes. I rather desperately need a wash, though I fear I have nothing clean to change into.”
He grinned. “I took the liberty of bringing along the dress you left at my house, against the necessity of it being needed. It is clean, if rather outmoded.”
“How very foresighted of you,” she said, both startled and relieved. “As you are fond of pointing out, planning ahead is not exactly one of my strengths.”
That elicited a chuckle from him. “It is well that it happens to be one of mine, then. I should say we are well matched. Shall we?” He extended an arm and she took it, feeling suddenly shy of him in a way she never had before.
Together, they mounted the stairs to the second story and thence to their room for the night. With a wink that made her heart accelerate, Rush turned the key in the lock. He then pushed open the door to reveal a good-sized bed with a white counterpane, as well as a dressing table already supplied with a pitcher and a ewer filled with steaming water.
“I daresay they can bring up a tub, if you fancy a proper bath,” Rush said, advancing into the room. “We still have more than an hour before dinner.”
Violet swallowed as it was fully borne in upon her that they would be sharing a bedchamber…as husband and wife. Widely read as she was, she had a fair understanding of what went on between married couples. Never before had she so longed to experience such things herself, however.
Greatly daring, she replied, “I confess a bath would be most welcome, after two full days and nights on the road. If you really believe there is time…” Her voice trailed off as her courage wavered.
“Should dinner be pushed back fifteen minutes, it is no great matter. I doubt Lord Killerby and his new bride will be in any particular hurry to quit their room, either.”
The oblique reference made Violet’s cheeks heat, but she did not draw back. “In that case, yes. I should very much appreciate a proper bath before….before dinner.”
A twinkle in his gray eyes showed that he fully comprehended what she had left unsaid. “As would I. Just a moment.” Poking his head into the hallway, he relayed the request to a passing maid who promised to have a tub and kettles brought up directly.
“I daresay the water’s already boiling,” she added with a saucy wink. “New-married couples mostly do want baths after driving here pell-mell to get themselves hitched.”
She hurried off, leaving them alone again.
“We should at least remove our outer things before our bath arrives,” Rush suggested, doffing his cloak.
Our bath. Violet swallowed again, thinking ahead to what that would entail.
“I, ah, yes. Luckily there is a good fire, so we, er, should not risk becoming chilled.” To hide her sudden embarrassment, she turned half away from him to fumble with the fastening of her own cloak.
“Here, let me help you.” Gently turning her back to face him, he undid the three buttons near her throat and the cloak fell away.
Though she was still fully dressed, Violet felt nearly as exposed as when he’d seen her in only her chemise in his library. She made a small, involuntary motion as if to snatch back her cloak and his smile deepened.
“You are one of the bravest women I’ve ever known, Violet. Surely you are not afraid?”
“Afraid?” Her voice came out in a squeak that did indeed sound frightened. Which was absurd. Clear
ing her throat, she tried again. “I don’t believe I could ever be afraid of you, Rush, though I confess to some uncertainty about how to…to proceed.”
He regarded her with what looked suspiciously like amusement. “I take it you did not consider such things during your previous elopements?”
“There was but one,” she reminded him indignantly, but then she laughed. “I was adamant earlier that this was no elopement, yet it turned out to be one after all.”
“I hope, however, it will be your last,” he said, chuckling as well.
Their shared amusement did away with her embarrassment—as, perhaps, he intended?
“I believe I can safely promise you never to elope again. Believing Mary to have been taken in by Mr. Bigsby brought home to me the risks of pursuing romance and adventure to the exclusion of all else. Though I may still hope for romance—” She slanted a shy look up at him through her lashes— “I have sworn off seeking adventure.”
“Ah, but not all adventures involve mad dashes across the country,” he said with a wink.
Before she could ask him to elaborate, a tap came at the door, followed by two servants bearing an oversized tub and two steaming copper kettles. Behind them was the maid, bearing two more pitchers of water and a pile of drying cloths. At Rush’s direction, they set out the bath and its accoutrements with practiced speed.
Once they were gone, he turned to Violet with a positively wicked smile. “Come, my dear Lady Rushford, and I will introduce you to a more domestic sort of adventure.”
Chapter Eighteen
If Rush had wondered whether Violet’s thirst for excitement might have led her to go well beyond what was proper with another man, her reaction now assured him she had not. He was glad, for he very much wanted to be the one to initiate her into the pleasures of the flesh.
“Come,” he repeated, holding out a hand to her. “You did say you were not afraid?”
Swallowing visibly, she lifted her chin and put her hand into his. “I’m not.”
“Good. I promise you I am far less dangerous than some horses you’ve ridden. Shall we clean ourselves up a bit? You apparently had the foresight this time to wear a dress that fastens in front, but I should still like to help you out of it.”
Indeed, he could scarcely suppress his eagerness to see—to experience—what lay beneath, after his intoxicating glimpse a few nights since. When she made no protest, he pulled her closer and began undoing the hooks at her neckline. The dress parted to reveal her chemise as his fingers moved lower.
“No corset?”
“I, ah, dressed in such a hurry on discovering Mary’s note, I did not call for my abigail. I also thought it unwise to tell her of my errand, with Mary’s reputation at risk.”
“Not to worry, I was not complaining,” he assured her, continuing to unfasten her gown. “Rather the reverse. Particularly as I imagine a corset would have made your journey even more uncomfortable.”
As his fingers reached her belly, he felt her trembling slightly beneath them.
“No doubt of that,” she replied somewhat breathlessly. “I dispense with it as often as I can in the country, and would prefer to do so always.”
“You will hear no protest from me, should you do so.”
By now he had undone enough hooks that he was able to push her gown off her shoulders to slither down and form a pool of fabric around her feet. She stepped out of the garment, clad in only a thin shift, displaying a shapely calf and ankle as she did so.
“Would you feel more comfortable if I turned my back as you step into the bath?” he felt obliged to ask.
“And let you think me a coward?” She faced him bravely, though her heightened complexion betrayed her lack of composure. “You are my husband now, are you not?”
Husband. The word had never sounded so…seductive before. “I am.”
With a reassuring smile, he untied the ribbons securing her chemise and a moment later it followed her dress to the floor, revealing her in all her glory.
It was now Rush’s turn to swallow, his body clamoring urgently for her. Never had he desired any woman a fraction as much as this one, yet he held himself firmly in check. Not for the world would he frighten her. No, he meant to do all in his power to ensure that her first experience would be both enjoyable and memorable.
Violet dropped her gaze, embarrassed by her nakedness, only to have her attention snagged by the patch of bare chest visible above Rush’s loosely-tied shirt. Unlike that night in his library, she did not look away. Instead, she reached out to tug the opening wider, that she might see more.
“You…have me at a disadvantage,” she told him, though still not meeting his eye.
He chuckled in response, then pulled his shirt up and off over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the smooth, muscled planes of his chest and abdomen. Violet caught her breath. He was even more beautiful than she had imagined!
Almost of its own volition, one of her hands came up to caress the expanse, her fingers tangling in the soft curls of hair sprinkled lightly across it. Belatedly wondering if she shocked him, she finally risked a glance up at his face.
No, definitely not shocked. In fact, the heat in his admiring gaze was so intense, it instantly ignited an answering flame within her. Suddenly fearless, she moved forward to press her bare breasts against his warm chest, at the same time tilting her face up for his kiss.
He obliged her. His hands roved up and down her bare back as he deepened the kiss, increasing her eagerness. Soon, mere kisses and even caresses were not enough to content her. She wanted more.
Pulling ever-so-slightly away, she murmured, “You are not yet ready for your bath, my lord.”
Another chuckle vibrated through his chest and the sensation against her breasts inflamed her further. With clumsy fingers, she began fumbling with the closure of his breeches.
“I am at least as eager as you, my love, so pray allow me,” he whispered against her lips.
Deftly, he undid the buttons securing his breeches and an instant later Rush—her husband—stood there as naked as she. She tried not to stare, but her extensive reading had in no way prepared her for the sight. He was more magnificent than any Greek statue…and so much larger than she had expected. Those ancient sculptors had certainly understated the matter!
When she did not immediately move, he pulled her gently to him for another long, leisurely kiss and her momentary nervousness about what was to come evaporated. She now responded as eagerly as before, her hands sliding up his arms, then around his back as she again pressed herself tightly against him.
“Tempted as I am to postpone our baths, it would be a shame to allow the water to get cold,” he murmured against her lips.
She pulled back just far enough to gaze up at him and his smile spiked her desire even higher. “You did promise me a new sort of adventure, did you not?”
“I did. We may begin it here.” Leading her to the tub, he helped her step into it, then picked up one of the smaller cloths. Wetting it, he laved her back and shoulders, then slid it around to her front.
“That…feels remarkably good,” she said as he massaged her breasts with the rough cloth. “Do you not mean to bathe as well?”
In answer, he stepped into the tub, facing her. “Of course. I wish to be as clean for you as you will be for me.”
Greatly daring, she stooped to pick up another cloth. “Then let me help.” So saying, she mimicked his motions, first rubbing the wet cloth over his back, then his chest.
When she moved lower, he sucked in a breath. “You are maddening, do you know that?”
The catch in his voice made her smile. “Am I? I do not mean to be. What do you wish me to do? Show me.”
Rather than reply, he brought his own cloth lower as well, swiping its roughness over her abdomen before gliding it down to the cleft between her legs.
Violet gasped. “I…Oh!”
“Is this pleasant for you?” he whispered.
She nodded, the
sensations he was producing rendering her incapable of speech. Taking her cue from him, she brought her own cloth down to circle his rampant manhood, drawing a gasp from him in turn.
“You are making it devilish hard to restrain myself,” he panted.
“Then, don’t.” Exactly what it was her body craved she was not sure, but that he could provide it she felt certain.
Dropping the washing cloth, he massaged her cleft with his fingers instead, until she was quivering with need. Then, when she felt certain she could bear no more, he cupped her bottom, lifted her up and impaled her upon his shaft—and she exploded into ecstasy.
Over and over he lifted, then lowered her, each iteration a new summit of pleasure. Then, clasping her tightly to him, he gave a cry and pulsed into her, spending his passion as she convulsed around him.
As she descended from the heights, she felt his muscles quivering from the effort to remain upright, then realized her own were doing the same. By unspoken accord, they both crouched into the bath, her legs around his waist as his supported her.
For many minutes they clung together, joined, before he gently kissed her and fished his abandoned cloth from the water.
“Shall…we finish washing up?” Though he tried to speak lightly, the huskiness in his voice proved Rush as affected by the experience as she.
“I suppose we’d better, if we are not to be late to dinner.” She attempted the same light tone, with similarly poor success.
That resulted in both of them laughing, which produced most interesting sensations indeed—so interesting that their bath was delayed for several more minutes before a second bout of passion left them both languorous enough to make use of the now-tepid water.
Violet and Rush descended to dinner some ten minutes later than planned. Just as Rush had predicted, however, they did not keep the other couple waiting, for Lord Killerby and his lady did not join them for several more minutes. Both looked even happier than before, though the moment Mary’s gaze met Violet’s, she blushed deeply.
“I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of the house’s best wine,” Rush said after greetings were exchanged. “Something appropriate for toasting your marriage…and ours.”
