by Rose Gordon
Andrew’s mind must have been on something else because he didn’t comment on her staring and joined her in the bed.
“What exactly are you planning to do with that?” she squeaked and pointed toward his waist as he positioned himself over her.
“You’ll see,” was all he said before his mouth was kissing hers again. His kisses were not as gentle and tender as they been earlier. Instead, they were intense and with purpose.
Brooke became mindless again and gave over to his kisses. She only noticed something was between her thighs when he pulled back from their kiss and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, this will hurt a little.”
Her mind tried to put together what he was saying but didn’t have enough time before she felt something prodding her where his fingers had been only a short while ago. He pushed forward very slowly. She looked at his face and thought he looked like he was the one in pain. His face was grim. His lips clamped shut in a flat, tight line, causing white lines to form. His blue eyes looked hard as they stared intently at her. Finally, he gave one last push and she let out a cry of surprise.
His body stilled on top of her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and tightened her grip on his shoulders, slightly digging her nails into his skin.
Andrew leaned down and sweetly placed a kiss on her forehead. “Please know that I didn’t want to hurt you. If I could have avoided it, I would have.”
“I know,” Brooke told him, wiggling her hips a little to get more comfortable.
He groaned. Then he started moving on top of her with slow, even strokes, moving as deep as she could take him then almost completely withdrawing.
It felt rather uncomfortable at first, but once her body adjusted to the size of him, she relaxed and started to move with him until together they found a steady rhythm.
The pressure she’d felt earlier quickly built up again, pushing her higher and higher with each stroke. This time it only took a few minutes for her to find a release that was even more intense than the one earlier.
After hers, Andrew pushed in once more and with a harsh groan, reached his climax before collapsing.
Minutes later when Brooke was losing the battle to stay awake, Andrew’s lips moved against her hair as he whispered, “That was the marital act.”
Chapter 26
Andrew was awakened in the morning by the sun shining in the thin little windows, lighting up the room where he and Brooke lay together, tangled and naked.
Brooke was sleeping. Next to her, he kept as still as he could so not to wake her. They’d made love a second time the night before. She had to be tired and sore; there was no need to rouse her yet.
Lying in bed gave him some time to think about what he’d do next. When Willis suggested he mine his land, he’d refused. But now that he had lost his estate, he saw no other option unless they were to continue to live like paupers for two years until the rest of the debt was paid. But even after his father’s debt was paid, they’d still have to live meagerly.
He would just have to borrow the money and build the mines. But from where? Who would lend him any money? No banker in his right mind would be willing to lend him money. He had no friends or acquaintances who would lend him the money, except Alex. Alex was the only one he knew who had the money and would lend it to him despite his monetary credit. But Alex may not want to lend the money now after what Andrew had done to Brooke. Even though Andrew had married her, Alex might be upset Andrew took liberties before marriage and refused to do the right thing at first.
The only other person he knew who would have access to that sort of money was Brooke. Her dowry was five thousand pounds, which was enough money to not only get the mines up and running, but also let them start to live the lifestyle Brooke was accustomed to. But he’d told her father he would not use one shilling from her dowry. He was not the kind to live off his wife’s generosity. Her money would be set up in a trust for their children or given to her as pin money. Anyway, the idea of borrowing money from one’s wife was laughable.
He didn’t realize he’d actually expressed a laugh until his wife’s sleepy face turned up to look at his.
She didn’t say anything, but raised her eyebrow the way he did. Married only one day and she had already picked up some of his habits.
“I was just thinking about some things you don’t need to worry about,” he said, pushing some of her thick hair away from her face.
“I’m not a featherbrain, Andrew,” she countered and leaned over to kiss him. “What were you thinking about?”
She was right, she wasn’t a featherbrain, but he didn’t want to burden her with this. “Just thinking about our future, and what we’re going to eat and wear,” he said lightly, hoping she’d think he meant the present.
“I’m certain Mrs. Cleansweep will bring us breakfast if you ring,” she said. Then her face went white, and she looked at the ground. “Oh no, what am I to wear?” she exclaimed.
“What you’re wearing now seems to fit you well,” Andrew said honestly.
She cast him her best attempt at a sharp look. “As much as you’d like it, I cannot spend the whole day naked. The only clothes I brought here are destroyed,” she said, pointing to the floor.
His eyes followed her pointing finger. Next to the bed was a pile of discarded clothes. Her gown lay at the bottom in a crushed and wrinkled mess. Her chemise was on top, with both straps broken. Andrew cast an apologetic look. Next to that was her linen binding and pillow shams. Surely there was something down there she could put on for a while.
“Don’t you dare suggest I put on that crumpled gown. And I'm not going to try to fashion some sort of outfit out of the other clothes, so don't even suggest it.”
Andrew raised his hands in mock innocence. “I would never even think such a thought,” he said with a wry smile.
He rose from the bed and covered her with the sheet. “Wait here, I have something.” He came back a few minutes later wearing trousers and a shirt, holding a red dressing robe in hand. “You can wear this. I’ll run downstairs to order breakfast and dash a note off to Alex asking him to have your clothes sent right away. Well, maybe not right away,” he amended with a wink.
He tossed the dressing robe on her bed beside her and left the room.
Walking down the hall, he spotted Mrs. Cleansweep dusting a wall sconce. “Can you bring breakfast to my wife’s room right away?”
“Yes, my lord,” she answered and scurried off to do her task.
Andrew went down the staircase and in the direction of his study, not bothering to talk to Stevens who was trying to no avail to get Andrew’s attention. “Whatever it is, Stevens, I trust you can manage it. I need to do a quick errand then I am back upstairs to spend the day with my wife,” he said in a superior tone that he used to dismiss his servants when they were being bothersome.
As soon as he entered his study he wished that for once Stevens had been an insolent servant who insisted on fighting with his employer.
What awaited him in his study was not what he’d expected to see, but was probably what Stevens meant when he kept claiming there was a “sticky situation” afoot.
On the settee by the fireplace was his mother, and not ten feet away, sitting behind his desk, was the Duke of Gateway.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said stiffly, ignoring Gateway altogether.
“Good morning, Andrew. Where is your bride?” she asked crisply, hurt marring her normally gentle features.
Andrew supposed she was upset for him not introducing them sooner, or for him marrying without telling her about it. There hadn’t exactly been time the day before to introduce them, and he hadn’t sent word for her to join the wedding party because he didn’t want her to undergo any unfair scrutiny.
“Yes, where is your bride?” Gateway drawled. “I’m rather surprised to see you so early, or has she already proven to be uninteresting.”
The dowager countess shot the duke a sharp look, but t
hat was nothing compared to Andrew’s reaction.
Andrew leapt across his desk to where Gateway was sitting, grabbed him by the lapels and with more force than necessary, threw him to the floor. “Don’t you ever speak of her in such a way again,” he thundered.
Gateway’s face went red, but his hands came up and grabbed Andrew’s arms and brought him down to the floor with him. “I broke your nose once, Townson, don’t think I won’t do it again,” he roared.
“That was many years ago, and it wasn’t a fair fight. You caught me unawares, the coward’s way,” Andrew spat.
They both rolled around on the floor of Andrew’s study, punching and trying to strangle each other. One second, one would have the advantage and be on top, and then a second later the positions were reversed.
“Stop! Both of you behave yourselves,” Mother yelled. “This is ridiculous you are two grown men and you’re acting like petulant children. What’s worse is there is no reason for it. Benjamin, apologize for insulting his wife.”
“I will not apologize I have no reason to. The remarks I made were fair. Everyone knows his wife is a lightskirt.” A satisfied look came over Gateway’s face when Andrew’s face turned murderous.
“You only have a grudge against her because she rejected you,” Andrew said sourly as he punched Gateway square in the jaw.
“Is that what she told you?” Gateway rubbed his jaw. “I’ll have you know I wouldn’t have her if she served herself to me naked on a platter.”
Andrew rose off the ground while Gateway rubbed his jaw. “I want you out. Now!”
“No,” Gateway said, as he rose to his feet and held up his fists, preparing for round two. “We made a bargain and you didn't hold your end. I demand satisfaction.”
“Bargain? Satisfaction?” Mother repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What is he talking about, Andrew?”
“Nothing, Mother,” Andrew said tersely.
“It’s not nothing,” Gateway snapped. “We had a bargain and if I remember correctly, the bargain did not involve you marrying her. In fact, you were specifically not to marry her. Or did you forget that part of the agreement?” he asked accusingly.
“No, I didn't forget,” Andrew replied flatly. “However, there was nothing in the agreement that said you would demand satisfaction if I failed to see it through. If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to end the agreement a few days ago when you thought she would throw me over due to some old gossip. Why is it fine for you to end the agreement but not me?” Andrew asked with a sneer.
“Because I was going to call it off and find someone who could handle it. As it turns out, that is exactly what I should have done,” Gateway shot back.
“What agreement?” the dowager demanded in a voice that was so loud it shook the wall hangings. “I want to know exactly what’s going on right this instant.”
Andrew and Gateway exchanged looks so sharp that if they had been daggers, they’d both be dead. Andrew thought he should be the one to tell his mother what was going on. He couldn’t trust Gateway to tell the truth, and why should he? She wasn’t his mother, or any relation for that matter.
“Now, Andrew. Tell all of us about this agreement,” said a voice behind him, cutting him off before he could speak.
He turned around very slowly, hoping his mind was playing tricks on him, but it wasn’t and his heart dipped to his toes. Behind him, standing in the doorway of his study, was his wife. She wore only his red dressing robe and stood still as a statue.
Everyone was looking at her, but Brooke didn’t act like she knew or cared she was now the focus of everyone’s attention.
“Brooke,” he said, coming to her side.
She wrenched her arm away from him. “What agreement, Andrew?” Her voice was so icy it could freeze a pot of boiling water on the spot.
“Tell her, Townson,” Gateway urged. “Tell her all about your plan to have her shamed right out of England and sent back to America on the fastest vessel.”
Andrew ignored Gateway. He’d take care of him later. Right now he needed to talk to Brooke. “Brooke,” Andrew started again.
“It all makes sense now,” she snapped, halting his words. She pulled further away from him. She was clutching his dressing robe so tightly her knuckles turned white and he thought the seams around the sleeves were going to pop. “It makes sense why you showed up at my house not knowing me or my sisters. When we caught you, you made up some lie about seeing us across the room at some ball you probably didn’t even attend.”
“That’s not true,” Andrew interrupted defensively. “I was at that ball.”
“What was I wearing?” she countered tartly. She shook her head at his lack of response. “I thought so. You were always trying to get me alone, and when you did, I fell right into your trap. I believed your words about having feelings for me and how much you cared for me. But now I know the real reason you were reluctant to marry me, even after Alex challenged you to a duel.”
“Indeed, a duel?” Gateway chimed in when she paused.
Brooke’s eyes left Andrew and darted to Gateway. “What I don’t understand is your part in this,” she said stiffly.
“My part was simple, really. I had something your husband wanted more than you,” he said, shrugging. “Something he wanted badly enough that he planned to bring on your ruin and send you back to America on the soonest vessel.” He flashed her a cruel smile that made her go pale.
Andrew’s mother let out a gasp, but wisely closed her mouth when Andrew gave her a quelling look.
“You can give him whatever he would have gained,” Brooke said with a sob in her throat. “I shall return to my family and convince them to leave England without delay.” She turned and fled the room.
Andrew ran after her. When he reached her, he tried to pull her back to him. “Stop, Brooke, let me explain.”
“There’s no need,” she assured him, the tears rolling down her cheeks betraying her words.
Andrew moved to stand in front of her, trying to block her way. “There is a need,” he said softly.
She pushed his chest. Hard.
He didn’t budge.
She placed both hands squarely on his chest, not caring that the dressing robe she wore fell open in the front and revealed her naked form to his eyes. This time, she shoved him with all her might.
Andrew was rather shocked when his body fell backward and crashed into the banister, breaking it as it broke his direct fall to the edge of the stairs. She had some muscles. For being a girl, that is. He would have smiled at the discovery if he wasn’t in so much pain.
She took advantage of his misfortune by grabbing her robe together and running toward the servant’s stairs. She had almost made it when he grabbed her waist from behind. “Would you please just stop for a moment. I can explain everything,” he ground out.
She faced him, her eyes still filled with fury. “For fear of having to repeat myself again, please listen well, Lord Townson. There is no need. I understand everything. I was present for most of that enlightening conversation.”
“What did you hear?” he growled.
“Enough” she snapped. Her body trembled from sobs wracking through her. “Now, would you for once in your misbegotten life be a gentleman and release me?”
Andrew relaxed his hold on her and she scurried to the top of the stairs, leaving him at the bottom. “Where are you going?” he demanded softly when she reached the top.
“I already told you,” she snapped. “Right now, I’m going back to my family then back to America.”
“No,” he said coolly.
“No?” she echoed.
“No. I forbid it,” he said in a steely tone.
“You forbid it?” She crossed her arms.
He crossed his arms in the same manner. “As your husband, I forbid you to leave this house.” His voice would have made most people cower to his demands, but not Brooke.
“You are powerless over me,” she huffed def
iantly. “I will leave this house if I choose to. I will go where I want and do what I want. You don't own me.” She ran down the hall faster than he’d ever seen her move.
Andrew took the stairs two at a time and ran down the hall after her only to find by the time he reached her room, she was already safely inside and slammed the door right in his face.
Moving his hand to the knob, he tried to turn it but it was locked. He made a fist and banged it on the outside of her door. “Open this door right now!” he called.
He didn’t hear any response and almost kicked himself when he remembered how easily he could get inside her room. With a shake of his head, he strolled to his room. He walked over to the connecting door and turned the handle.
It wouldn’t turn.
Not so easily put off, Andrew looked around for the key. It was in there somewhere. He shuffled some papers on his writing desk. Not there. He looked around his vanity. Not there. Finding a cup-like object that held quills and other miscellaneous objects, he turned it over, dumping the quills and other odds and ends out, but the key was not there. The key had to be there somewhere, he just knew it. That room had not been used in so long there was no need to lock it, but surely the old earl had kept the key around here somewhere.
He finally resigned himself to the idea that the key was not close at hand and walked over to the connecting door. “Brooke, unlock this door this instant or I will break it down,” he yelled through the door. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible, but she didn’t need to know that.
He waited silently for a minute, listening for her response. He heard none. “Brooke, I’m serious. If you don’t open up, I’m coming in.”
He stood quietly again, listening once more for any noise, her moving, unlocking the door, crying, anything. But he heard nothing. “All right, I’m coming in, you had better move back.”
He walked across his room, and with as much speed as he could gain, he ran straight toward the door, hitting it directly with his shoulder. A faint cracking noise resulted, but the door was still firmly in place. Stepping away from the door, he ran his fingers over his now smarting shoulder that matched his equally sore back and face.
