A Viking For The Viscountess

by Michelle Willingham

  “No, but I would happily burn this torturous garment, if I could.”

  Victoria hid her smile. “It’s not so bad, really, when you’re used to it.” Yet, as she laced the corset again, a strange thought occurred to her. I wonder if I could make something like this. Only something softer, more comfortable to wear.

  If the chemise were created out of a delicate material like satin or velvet, the fabric would cling to a woman’s skin. Even the corset itself could be lined with silk.

  Her hands stilled upon Amelia’s back, the idea evolving and taking shape. Already she’d seen patterns for embroidered petticoats, made of fine lawn or muslin. Yet, she’d never seen a corset made out of anything except unyielding, coarse material. All of them were white, as if proclaiming a woman’s purity.

  Slowly, Victoria began to pull the laces tight, unable to stop turning the idea over in her mind. Was it possible to construct a corset out of silk or satin, or would it tear under pressure? Perhaps it could be made of buckram but covered in silk, with a double lining next to the skin.

  The idea intrigued her with a challenge she’d never before attempted. She had no idea how long it would take to make such a complicated garment…and yet, she found herself wanting to try it.

  There was an older set of stays she could take apart to study for a pattern, and she knew there were gowns belonging to her grandmother in the bottom of a trunk. If she took one of them apart tonight, she could—

  “Victoria?” her sister prompted. “Aren’t you going to help me get dressed again?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” She lifted her sister’s woolen dress over the undergarment, but her mind was still caught up in the vision.

  As Victoria buttoned her sister up, Amelia wouldn’t let go of their argument. “Toria, you can’t stay in Scotland. It’s too dangerous for a woman alone. We heard gunshots yesterday when we were visiting the crofters.”

  “They’re fighting again?”

  Amelia nodded. “There’s not enough space and barely enough food to feed them all. Some have talked of taking back the land and killing the Earl of Strathland.”

  Victoria moved to the window. In the distance, she could see the smoke curling from their camp fires. A child wandered outside in the snow, her hair covered with a plaid, her clothing hardly more than rags. It bothered her to see them suffering in this way. She wished her family had more to give away, but there were simply too many of the crofters. Worse, with the food shortages, it wasn’t surprising that some would turn to stealing from each other, if it meant feeding their children. The winter was always difficult, and Victoria’s mother had sent for more supplies from London, simply for their own survival.

  “You can’t stay here alone. Not while we’re gone.” Amelia’s face tightened. “What if they attack the house?”

  “We’ve given them sanctuary,” Victoria reminded her. “There’s no reason for them to turn against us. And it’s only temporary until they find a new place to live.” She wanted to believe that, praying that the MacKinlochs would leave before the fighting worsened.

  “It isn’t safe,” her sister argued. “Without Father here…” Her words broke off, her eyes filling up with tears. Their father, Colonel Henry Andrews, now Baron Lanfordshire, had been fighting in Spain for the past three years. There was no way of knowing when he would return.

  Or if he would return.

  Victoria took her sister’s hand in reassurance. “Most of the crofters don’t even know I’m here. And the ones who do, know that I never leave the house. I’m no threat to anyone.”

  Her sister fell silent, and she took it to mean Amelia had finally given up. Good. There was no sense in entertaining ideas that would never happen. Victoria took the white and blue gown and picked up her thimble, intending to start sewing the hem.

  Instead, Amelia walked over and took the gown from her hands. “I want to see this gown on you.”

  “Amelia, no. Really, I—”

  “We’re nearly the same size. Let’s see what it looks like.” Before she could protest, her sister started unbuttoning the gray merino gown Victoria was wearing. With great reluctance, she forced herself to stand still while Amelia helped her into the muslin dress. “Careful, or you’ll tear the sleeves.”

  She stood before the mirror while Amelia fastened the four buttons lining the back of the gown and tied the sash. Although the waistline fit well enough, her bust was too small, and the bodice gaped slightly. She needed an extra layer of padding to fill out the areas that were too flat. It was rather dismaying that, despite Victoria’s being six years older, her sixteen-year-old sister was better endowed than herself in the bosom.

  Victoria’s thoughts drifted back to her idea for undergarments made of silk. With a few strategic tucks and a bit of quilting to add support, there was a way to make a woman’s breasts look bigger. The idea was scandalous, but she couldn’t quite let go of it. Surely she wasn’t the only woman with less-than-desirable curves.

  The more she thought of it, the more she longed to attempt it. If she sewed quickly, she could send one corset to be sold along with the gown she’d made earlier.

  But women might not want a corset made of silk, the voice of reason interjected. It might be an utter waste of time. And yet, she couldn’t dismiss the idea.

  “There. Now look at yourself.” Her sister turned her to face the mirror, and Victoria stared at her reflection. It felt foreign, seeing herself dressed like this. The stripes of blue were too pretty, the roses too feminine. In the mirror, she saw a woman with pale skin, and a flush of embarrassment upon her cheeks. Her gray eyes were accentuated by the stripes of blue, and the waistline curved inward before the skirts draped in graceful folds. The gown transformed her into someone else—the woman she was afraid of becoming.

  “I should take this off. It fits you better,” she started to say.

  “You’re pretty, Victoria. Don’t hide yourself away.” Amelia rested her hands upon her shoulders, offering, “Let me do your hair.”

  Though both of them knew that she’d never attended any sort of ball and never would, Victoria surrendered to Amelia’s whims. Her sister ruthlessly twisted and pinned the locks of dark blond hair until all of it rested upon her head in a coronet.

  “You look perfect,” her sister pronounced, “and when we get to London, we’re going to order more gowns for you.”

  “Amelia, no.” Clearly, her sister was ignoring her decision to stay. She helped Victoria with the rest of the buttons while chattering on. “We could visit Madame Benedict’s shop.”

  “I’d rather not.” The very idea sent a ripple of dread through Victoria. She’d kept her identity hidden over the past year, sewing ball gowns for Madame Benedict in London. Each of her creations had been unique, but Victoria had resorted to using the services of their neighbor Cain Sinclair to deliver the gowns and bring back the money. He’d also been her source of fabric during the war, and she didn’t doubt that Mr. Sinclair had engaged in illegal smuggling to acquire her supplies.

  Thus far, her mother hadn’t questioned the source of the unexpected funds, for Beatrice had never been good with numbers and didn’t understand where the money was coming from. It was a secret Victoria wanted to withhold for as long as possible, for no doubt her mother would be furious. Baron’s daughters were not supposed to sew for money.

  “Don’t you think Madame Benedict will want to meet you?” Amelia continued. “You earned a good deal from the last gowns you sent to her. And you deserve some new clothes of your own.”

  She ignored the question, for her younger sister didn’t understand the need for secrecy. “The gowns I have suit me well enough.” She had many that hung untouched in her wardrobe. “I don’t need anything, for I’m going nowhere.”

  Her sister helped her to undress, her mood growing somber. “Victoria, Christmas won’t be the same if you’re not there.”

  She braved a smile she didn’t feel. “We’ll celebrate again when you return. Now, I nee
d to fix this hem.”

  Amelia cast her a disappointed look. “Do you want me to help you back into your old gown?”

  Since it was already dark and they’d finished their dinner, she shook her head. “Help me out of my stays, and I’ll get ready for bed.”

  Her sister obeyed, and Victoria put on a cotton nightgown that fell to her ankles. Then she sat in a rocking chair and picked up her needle and thread. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of sewing, making each stitch neat and even. In time, Amelia left her alone.

  Victoria pushed the needle with her thimble, reminding herself that it would be all right. Yes, it would be lonely without her family on Christmas, but she would manage.

  She would fill her days with sewing, letting the activity push away her loneliness. And this time, she had a new challenge to attempt. There was still the problem of finding the right fabric, however.

  Victoria set aside her sewing and went to open the trunk on the far side of the room. It was filled with old gowns that she and her sisters had played in as children. They had pretended to be grand ladies, hosting parties for their dolls.

  She rummaged around the trunk, looking for a bit of silk. Near the bottom, she found a crimson satin shawl that had once belonged to her grandmother. Her mother had loathed the color, believing it was far too garish.

  But it was irresistibly soft. She ran her hands over the surface, wondering if it would be too delicate for an undergarment. Frowning, she eyed the door. Downstairs, she heard the sound of her sisters talking, and the low voice of her mother.

  There wasn’t a great deal of time, but she went to the door and locked it. Then she brought over the stays she’d worn earlier, examining the construction. The boning tended to mash a woman’s rib cage, making it hard to breathe. But it was the stiff, unyielding buckram that made it itch.

  Victoria stripped off her nightgown until she stood naked in her room. It was cold, and she shivered as she reached for the crimson satin. Gathering it into a length, she molded it against her breasts, experimenting as she lifted them up to create cleavage.

  In the mirror, she stared at herself. The soft fabric enveloped her nipples in a sensual way, making the tips erect. The candlelight cast a golden glow over her skin, and the red satin appeared scandalous.

  She looked like a courtesan, a woman about to be undressed.

  What would it be like to have a man standing before her? Would he want to caress the satin? Would it allure him, making him desire her as a woman?

  Though she’d never touched herself in that way before, Victoria moved her palms over the fabric. Her breasts ached, and a sensual warmth bloomed between her thighs. She knew, from talks with her mother, that within a marriage, a husband would touch his wife intimately. And that she would enjoy sharing his bed.

  She let the satin fall away, baring her nudity before the mirror. For as long as she buried herself within the house, no man would ever touch her. No man would ever want her.

  The thought made bitter tears spring up in her eyes, for she simply didn’t know how to overcome her fear.

  If you enjoyed the excerpt, you may purchase Undone by the Duke at Amazon. It is also available in print and audio.

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  MICHELLE WILLINGHAM

  (Click the title to purchase)

  Forbidden Viking Series

  (Viking Age Ireland)

  To Sin with a Viking

  To Tempt a Viking

  A Most Peculiar Season Series

  (Regency)

  A Viking for the Viscountess

  A Maiden for the Marquess (coming in 2015)

  Secrets in Silk Series

  (Regency Scotland)

  Undone by the Duke

  Unraveled by the Rebel

  Undressed by the Earl

  Unlaced by the Outlaw

  MacEgan Brothers Series

  (Medieval Ireland)

  Her Warrior Slave

  “The Viking’s Forbidden Love-Slave” (novella)

  Her Warrior King

  Her Irish Warrior

  The Warrior’s Touch

  Taming Her Irish Warrior

  “The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin” (novella)

  “Voyage of an Irish Warrior” (novella)

  Surrender to an Irish Warrior

  “Pleasured by the Viking” (novella)

  “Lionheart’s Bride” (novella)

  Warriors in Winter

  The MacKinloch Clan Series

  (Medieval Scotland)

  Claimed by the Highland Warrior

  Seduced by Her Highland Warrior

  “Craving the Highlander’s Touch” (novella)

  Tempted by the Highland Warrior

  “Rescued by the Highland Warrior” (novella in the Highlanders anthology)

  The Accidental Series

  (Victorian England/Fictional Province of Lohenberg)

  “An Accidental Seduction” (novella)

  The Accidental Countess

  The Accidental Princess

  The Accidental Prince

  Other Titles

  “Innocent in the Harem”

  (A novella of the sixteenth-century Ottoman Empire)

  “A Wish to Build a Dream On”

  (time travel novella to medieval Ireland)

  About the Author

  Kindle bestselling author and Rita® Award finalist Michelle Willingham has published more than thirty romance novels and novellas. Currently, she lives in southeastern Virginia with her husband and children, and is working on more historical romance books in a variety of settings, such as medieval and Viking-era Ireland, medieval Scotland, and Victorian and Regency England. When she’s not writing, Michelle enjoys baking, playing the piano, and avoiding exercise at all costs. Her books have been translated into languages around the world. Visit her website at www.michellewillingham.com to find English and foreign translations.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from UNLACED BY THE OUTLAW

  Excerpt from UNDONE BY THE DUKE

  Other Books by Michelle Willingham

  About the Author