Miss Winters Proposes

by Frances Fowlkes

  His mouth once again found hers, his hands falling to her wrists where he interlaced his fingers with hers. Pulling back his hips, he thrust forward, his body picking up a slow rhythm that sent each of her nerves to its limit.

  Pain slipped into pleasure and bliss exploded into ecstasy. Tearing her lips from his, she cried out.

  With a final thrust, he pulsed inside her and moaned her name. Benjamin fell beside her, his chest slick with sweat, his breath coming in short little pants. “I never…”

  Juliet placed her finger over his lips, silencing his words. There were none to describe what had transpired between them, and none to express the spasm of emotions that had erupted from her very core.

  Her world had shifted. Her entire body shook with the enormity of what she had done, of the intimacies she had shared with a man she not only desired, but needed.

  She wanted nothing more than to curl beside him, to run her fingers over every chiseled line and indented muscle. She yearned to repeat their sensual act or, at the very least, lay beside him, with his arm wrapped around her waist…and yet, a deal was a deal.

  Their union was binding. Once again, her husband had done as she had asked.

  And once again, she had a debt to repay, which she would in one week’s time. Juliet would be there to whelp Artemis’s pups. And then depart for Evenrood first thing after. Benjamin deserved his solitude. He had earned it. Every last minute.

  …

  Juliet woke to a wet tongue on her face.

  Lifting one lid open, she peered at Cleo, who, with a wagging tail and a sloppy, wet tongue, set out to remind Juliet it was morning. And time to be fed.

  “Fine. I’m awake. Is that what you want?” Juliet rubbed behind the hound’s ears. Cleo whined and proceeded to douse Juliet with a morning’s worth of spittle.

  Gently shoving the dog to the side, Juliet sat up and glanced down at her rumpled shift. Heat flooded her face as she recalled precisely what she had done whilst wearing Mrs. Ancell’s neat and tidy stitches.

  Her marriage was now consummated. The soreness between her thighs was testament to the fact.

  Funny how she hadn’t noticed any physical discomfort when she had left Benjamin’s bed. Desire, hot and thick, engulfed her each time his hand had slipped over her body, pulling her in tight against his side. All pain was absent whilst in his presence, his bristly jaw and soft lips replacing any discomfort with pleasure.

  She reveled in his caresses, in the heady rush of excitement and joy he brought with his nearness. But a deal was a deal, and he had filled his end. His solitude was well earned and she would do her best to respect his wishes to be left alone…even if she was loathe to admit how long she’d toyed with the idea of staying in his room.

  Thus, why she was in her bed on the morning after their wedding and not in his.

  Juliet pulled a pair of wool stockings out of her wardrobe drawer and tugged them over her numb toes. The coarse knit was hardly fitting for a viscountess, but it was warm enough for a married hound breeder set on nurturing a new line of pointers.

  Cleo’s ears perked. A low growl rumbled in her throat, providing enough warning for Juliet to pull a blanket over her lap before the lock rattled with the insertion of a key.

  “Mrs. Ancell?”

  Only the elderly housekeeper had access to the room keys, but it was not customary for her to use the main entrance. Had she wanted to tend to Juliet, she would have made use of the servant door, if she suspected Juliet of being here at all. Perhaps she thought the viscount had come to claim her here?

  A final rattle of the lock and the door was thrown open, with Frederick, in a rumpled shirt and breeches, standing on her threshold.

  Juliet yanked the blanket to her chest, her face heating. “Frederick? What are you doing here? And how did you come to be in possession of the household keys?”

  He sauntered in, a smug smile set on his thin lips. “I am the future baron, Juliet. I have access to the machinations of the house.”

  “The current baron does not even have access to those keys,” she said. Her fingers clenched around the soft fibers of her cotton quilt. “Mrs. Ancell guards them with her life.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps you should investigate the housemaid with the slippery fingers who will do almost anything for an extra pence. That, however, is neither here nor there. What is, my dearest cousin, is that you are still in your nightshift. In your own room. Without the viscount.”

  An icy chill crept down Juliet’s spine, glacial tendrils of fear gripping her into a rigid silence. Cleo continued with her growl, her flesh rippling along her mouth, her teeth bared.

  Frederick sighed. “Call off your hound, so we may talk.”

  Who was this person staring at her with bloodshot and wild eyes? Juliet stared at her cousin, a man who had gone from familiar relation to foreboding stranger in the course of a few days.

  “I often find hounds are an excellent judge of a person’s true character.”

  He shot her a condescending look. “I am not going to harm you, Juliet. I am here to rationally discuss your future.”

  Juliet pulled her blanket closer, not bothering to calm the hound she far trusted over the relation who stood in her doorway with a set of stolen keys. “If you refer to the future where my husband takes you in hand for breaking into my room unbidden, then yes, please, let us talk.”

  “You mean the husband who is not present on the morning after his wedding?” Frederick snorted. “Come now, you cannot pull the wool over my eyes. Your marriage is a lie. The viscount was once married to Amelia, after all.”

  “And what is that meant to infer, Frederick?” she asked, her heart plunging.

  Her cousin’s eyes roved over her quilt-covered body. “While you possess your sex’s agreeable and complementary physical traits, Amelia, well…she simply bore them better. One cannot compare silk with a sow’s ear.”

  Juliet glanced down at the worn floorboards, her fingers still gripping the blanket for the small measure of security it provided. “I think it would be best if you left. Now.”

  Instead of closing the door, he stepped into the room, further provoking Cleo’s growl and the intensity of Juliet’s grip on her quilt.

  “I do not mean that as an insult, but as proof this marriage you have concocted to gain my attentions has gone far enough. I confess I was almost willing to believe the sincerity of the viscount’s affection for you, but I, too, was once…involved with Amelia. Her beauty, her poise—”

  “You think I married the viscount to capture your attention? To incite your jealousy?” Her finger’s numb, Juliet loosened her hold on the blanket.

  “Well, yes. I admit I’ve been a little negligent with my attentions, Juliet, but I have been waiting for you to give up this childish interest in these hounds and to develop the skills necessary to maneuver through Society as a politician’s wife.”

  “A childish interest?” she asked. Her gaze fell to Cleo’s alert body. “It does not seem childish to the men willing to pay hundreds of pounds for an opportunity to breed their hounds with Father’s kennel.”

  Frederick took a tentative step forward, inching his way closer to the bed. “True, but they are men. And your father will continue to do well with his hobby. But it is his hobby. A man’s hobby. And one not suitable for a woman.”

  Cleo’s growl deepened. “I highly suggest you leave, Frederick. Cleo does not share your opinion and should she feel her suitable and capable protector, trainer, and breeder, is threatened, she will not hesitate to defend me.”

  A loud clomping of footfalls sounded on the other side of the wall. Benjamin burst into her chambers, the servant’s door to her room near thrown off its hinges with his excessive force.

  Cleo whined, her nose sniffing toward the viscount.

  Juliet’s skin warmed at the sight of her barely dressed husband. The dark growth of a day’s worth of beard added a roguish appeal to his already attractive features.

  Features th
at were now contorted into one of barely controlled rage. Benjamin glanced between her and Frederick. “What the hell are you doing in my wife’s chambers, Winters?” he bellowed.

  Frederick lifted a sand-colored brow. “More than you, apparently.”

  Benjamin barreled toward him. Juliet flung herself toward her husband, thrusting her body in between the two men, halting Benjamin’s progress with outstretched arms and palms flattened firmly against his thick chest. While Frederick was more than deserving of the violence her husband promised, she did not want blood spilled on her favorite rugs. “My cousin was just leaving.”

  Benjamin’s nostrils flared. “Perfect. So are we.”

  “Oh?” Juliet lifted her gaze to her husband’s stormy one.

  “It is time to acquaint you with your new home. We are leaving for Darlington Hall. Immediately.”

  Chapter Ten

  Benjamin stood with his hands curled into tight fists at his sides, his wife’s slender and half-dressed body the only thing separating him from Winters’s smug face. A face he would like nothing more than to rearrange—preferably into a swollen, bloody, and distorted one.

  The cur had bribed a naive housemaid to steal keys so he might force his way into Juliet’s chambers, for God’s sake. What sort of vile scum crafted sordid schemes to prove his suspicions?

  Benjamin knew precisely what sort—the sort who seduced young innocents, whispering promises of marriage in their ears, only to leave them swollen with child, desperate, and condemned by Society.

  He’d be damned if he allowed Winters to repeat his infraction. Especially with Juliet.

  He peered down at his wife. “Grab whatever you require to make the ride to Darlington. We’ll have the staff send over the rest of your wardrobe after we have settled.”

  “What of my father?” She glanced at her bitch, who stood alongside her, its lips pulled back into a snarl. “And the hounds?”

  “I spoke to the apothecary yesterday. Your father’s health has improved. He will do well enough with the housekeeper checking in on him. As for the hounds, we’ll bring them along. I have no intentions of leaving them here.” Benjamin lifted his eyes to Winters. There was no telling what the man would do with the prized beasts should they be left to his devices.

  Winters shook his head, a low chuckle emanating deep in his chest.

  “I fail to see what all the excitement is about. Honestly, Colwyn. You couldn’t possible expect me to believe you would marry Juliet based on love alone. Not after your proclamation that you would remain a bachelor indefinitely. Come now. Being seduced by Amelia is one thing. Juliet, well, is Juliet.”

  Benjamin had tried to be a gentleman. He had done his best not to resort to violence in front of his wife. But insulting her was not about to go unchecked. At least not from him. Stepping around Juliet, Benjamin slammed his fist into the side of Winters’s jaw.

  The blackguard stumbled backward. Blood and spittle dribbled down the side of his face, his hands cradling his chin. “Do you see what sort of man you have connected yourself with, Juliet?” Winters hissed. “One who resorts to violence when the truth is spoken.”

  “Benjamin, stop, please. He isn’t worth your attentions.” Her petite hands closed over his other forearm.

  He straightened, his arm warm and sensitive where Juliet held her grip. “And I’ll do it again if necessary. Speak against my wife, Winters, and you’ll have more than my fist to contend with.”

  The heir to Hollington, the next baron, and Benjamin’s future neighbor, spat on the wooden floorboards. “Your standards have lowered, Colwyn. For once I am thankful for Amelia’s death. She didn’t deserve to be attached to a man with such a disregard for propriety.”

  Benjamin chortled. This from a man who seduced women for his personal gain and twisted aspirations? The man was lower than a cur. He was a reptile. A scum-sucking, parasitic leech.

  Streams of early morning light peeked through cracks in the heavy curtains, the bright light illuminating the hurt and pain etched into Juliet’s features—along with the dark outline of her hips and the dusky, pink circles of her breasts through the thin and transparent veil of her shift.

  Damn.

  Benjamin shoved Juliet behind him, the bulk of his body a shield, if not against Winters’s words, then his physical advances and roving eyes.

  “It is not I, but you, who suffers from a drought of respect and decorum.”

  “At least I would respect my wife enough to make certain her needs were met on her wedding night.” Winters dabbed a handkerchief at his jaw.

  Juliet’s grip tightened on Benjamin’s arm.

  “Enough. Get. Out.” Benjamin spoke each word quietly and with the full brunt of his hatred. The man could go to the devil, if he had not already sold him his blackened soul.

  Winters leveled a glare toward Juliet. “I officially retract my offer. I could not hope to wed someone who prefers a man with no sense of pride or distinction. I hope you can live with your decision, and the consequences it bears for your family.”

  He shot Benjamin one last sneer before ridding his unwelcome presence from the room. The sound of the door slamming echoed in the modest-sized chambers, the reverberations of both Winters’s words and actions stunning them into rigid immobility.

  Juliet’s hound relaxed, the sleek pointer burrowing its muzzle into Juliet’s side.

  A side that trembled against him, shaking with what he could only presume to be anger and…pain.

  His arms instinctively wrapped around her, his hands weaving through her riotous curls, pulling her against his chest.

  That she should have to bear witness to the cruelty Winters uttered…

  “Thank you,” she whispered, moving her lips against the thin muslin of his shirt. “I don’t know what he would have done had you not found me.”

  Benjamin tightened his arms around her, lowering his mouth to the top of her cinnamon-scented curls. “It was fortunate Mrs. Ancell sought out my assistance, though I am still at a loss to explain why it was necessary at all.”

  Juliet lifted her head, her face one of righteous indignation. “Indeed. That Frederick would sink to such dark levels of cruelty…” She burrowed her face into his shirt.

  He removed his fingers from her tresses and placed them under her chin. Tilting her face upward, he stared into the tumultuous depths of her eyes. “There is no excuse plausible for your cousin’s behavior. But that you were even a possible target for his abuse has me concerned. I confess, it was quite distressing to find my bed half-empty and chilled this morning.”

  A soft, rose-colored flush infused Juliet’s cheeks, the pink bloom making his pulse skip. “I did not want to overstay my welcome.” She lowered her gaze, her flush deepening to crimson. “You did as I asked and gave me what I desired. I thought to return the favor.”

  He hadn’t the slightest recollection of asking her to leave. Indeed, his continual affections and his insatiable hunger for her attentions had him reaching for her this morning. Never before had he felt so connected to a woman. So attuned to both her needs as well as his own.

  And never before had he been so terrified of a woman. Of the power she held over him. Of the pain she could inflict upon him should she be wrenched from his life.

  His aroused lower half bore testament to his concerns. He was weak, unable to deny himself of her pleasures, as evidenced by the readiness in which he had given in to her request for consummation. The more she was around, the more he would be unable to resist her.

  Hence his desire to return to Darlington—alone.

  But he could no more do that than he could resist her temptations. Not after Winters and his crazed violations against the woman who was now under his protection.

  “I do not want you to leave my side, Juliet. Especially here, whilst Winters still lurks about the house. Your safety is my utmost concern. Wherever you go, I shall follow.”

  “You would go to such lengths? For me?”

  Benjamin ra
n his thumbs over her cheeks, marveling at the way her face fit perfectly into his palms.

  “Of course. You are my wife. I will not allow Winters to violate you.”

  Juliet lowered her eyelids, her long lashes brushing over the tops of her freckled-dusted cheeks. “I need to dress. I’m afraid I am not suitably clothed for riding.”

  Benjamin glanced down at the delicately trimmed shift hanging precariously low off her narrow shoulders. The rumpled garment was more than suitable for the type of riding he suddenly had in mind.

  He lowered his lips to hers, unable to control the need that gripped him, that compelled him to indulge his desire and taste the sweet saltiness of Juliet’s lips.

  Her mouth readily received his, her hands gripping his arms.

  Juliet’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip, nibbling his soft flesh and unleashing a floodgate of desire. She tore her mouth from his, her lips hot and swollen as she kissed the sensitive skin of his throat.

  “Juliet.” He moaned, his breath already ragged from her caress. His fingers found the thin fabric of her shift and slid it past her breasts, the white garment pooling at her feet.

  A beam of sunlight caught the mass of curls tumbling over her shoulders, the bright copper color shifting into a fiery red that made his mouth dry. She was stunning. An embodiment of an Irish fey set on bewitching him with her charms.

  And he was thoroughly and uttered bewitched.

  Her hands left his arms to cross over her chest, her face blushing crimson in the early morning light.

  “I—I—” Her shoulders curled inward as she sought to cross her legs and hide her nudity from his gaze.

  Was it possible? Could she be embarrassed by her own natural beauty?

  His jaw clenched. Of course she could. Had not Winters insulted her on that very topic? Comparing her to Amelia, and openly declaring the two could not compare?

  It was true Amelia was a beauty. With her blond hair and turquoise blue eyes, she had been highly sought after…and refused when her fortune was revealed. As the daughter of the third son of a knight, she bore the title of a gentlewoman, if little else. With four brothers and two younger sisters, Amelia’s dowry had been nonexistent. Her physical beauty and outward appearance her saving grace in catching the eye of an eligible gentleman.