The Viscount's Salvation (Honorable Rogue Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  He grinned. “By all means. Explore.”

  Sitting up, she reached out and touched the shiny tip, a drop of moisture pearled at the tiny opening. She wiped it off, then sucked on her finger, and she moaned, delighted at the salty taste of his essence. Her eyes flew open as she realized what she had done.

  Cortland chuckled. “You enjoyed that, did you not?”

  She nodded and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Can I kiss it?”

  His nostrils flared as he murmured, “Most definitely. I would be delighted if you did.”

  Then she closed her eyes, bent at the waist, and placed her lips on the tip. He growled, “Wrap your hand around it and squeeze as you take me into your mouth.”

  Shocked, but intrigued, she did as he requested and slid her lips over the head as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. The skin felt incredibly soft, but underneath, his manhood was as hard as a rock. She experimented with different amounts of pressure, licking one second and sucking the next, then she ran her tongue along a pulsing vein.

  He moaned. “You’re killing me.” She jerked away. “No! Don’t stop. It feels heavenly.”

  “Oh. I thought I’d hurt you.”

  “Far from it. You’re giving me immense pleasure.” She resumed her exploration, and when she felt him twitch in her mouth, she sucked harder as she glided her hand up and down his thick shaft. His body tensed. Then he pulled her up and devoured her mouth. In between deep kisses, he murmured, “If you continue, I will come apart. Lie back,” he commanded, and she obeyed.

  Cortland reached between their bodies and touched her secret spot.

  Oh, goodness, I’m soaking wet.

  “Perfect.” He pressed her thighs apart and slid inside her with ease. Perhaps being so wet was a good thing after all. Her inner muscles in her passage tightened, and he groaned. “Yes, keep that up.”

  She concentrated on tightening her channel again. The more she did it, the more he moaned. He began to move in and out of her; over and over, he moved, with sure steady strokes. Pleasure burned deep inside her body when he reached up and laced their fingers together, holding her arms above her head as he pumped more vigorously inside her. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose. His breath grew ragged and hoarse.

  Just when she thought she could take no more, he hit that spot deep inside her passage, and she broke into a million tiny pieces. Stars burst behind her lids; she gasped for air. Her entire body tensed as wave upon wave of the most intense pleasure rushed from the top of her head to her curling toes.

  Cortland yelled fiercely, “Yes, yes.” Then, he collapsed on top of her and slowly released her hands. His hammering heart beat so hard she could feel it. Their tempos as one.

  She stroked his muscular back and murmured in barely a whisper, “I love you.” Then let sleep take her away.

  ****

  Cortland reveled in the sensations coursing through his body. As his heart began to slow, he rolled to his sleeping wife’s side. He longed to remain there all through the night, but he dared not do that. He rested his head on his raised hand and gazed at Mary’s delicate face. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth curved up in a gentle smile, even in sleep. Peace filled his soul. He did not know what he had done to deserve her, but he was eternally grateful the Lord had led him to her.

  Her last whispered words penetrated his mind. Did she truly love him, or were they murmured only in the heat of passion? He prayed they were true, because she had surely stolen his heart completely.

  When he had asked her to run away with him, it had strictly been to protect her from that evil man and give Gerrard and Aimee a loving mother. While he had hoped, even prayed, they could grow to love one another one day, he had never expected that it would happen so soon. In seven short weeks, his wife’s gentle ways had earned his deep abiding love. A love that he was sure would only grow stronger as each day passed.

  He stifled a yawn, and his eyes grew heavy. It would be so easy to give in, to let sleep take him away, but he had promised himself he would not risk it. Sighing deeply, he slipped from the bed and stood gazing upon Mary. Walking to the other side of the bed, he gathered up his clothing and made his way through their dressing rooms and into his lonely chamber.

  In the afterglow of the best sexual experience he’d ever had—although it was far more than that—he faded into sleep with joy in his heart and a smile on his face.

  The next thing he knew, he awoke to the sounds of Larken behind the privacy screen preparing to assist him with his morning ablutions. He’d slept soundly and felt immeasurably well-rested. If lovemaking gave him such a great night of sleep, he would make sure he went to his wife each night. Could it be that the calming effect Mary had upon him went so far as to relieve him of his nightmares? Oh, God, he prayed that be the case.

  Sitting up, he stretched his arms over his head, then crawled from the bed as his valet came round the screen and said, “Good morning, my lord. All is ready, sir.”

  “Thank you, Larken. I certainly hope the weather is improved from yesterday.” He walked to the drapes and pushed them to the side before his valet could answer. “Ah, the snow is almost gone. Lay out my riding clothes, please.”

  “Certainly, sir.” He stepped aside so Cortland could go behind the screen. The ever-efficient Larken soon had him shaved and dressed for the day. Making his way to the stables, he burst into song, feeling more alive and happier than he had since before the war. He used to sing often when he was alone, but it had been years. It felt good.

  Although it was still a bit cold, it had warmed up considerably from the day before. He was anxious to feel his horse under him and the bracing wind across his face. He stopped for a moment. Should he take a groom with him?

  He probably should, but he wanted to enjoy the solitude as he took his morning ride. Surely he would be fine if he only rode along the path to the pond. There were no open spaces along that route, where someone could catch him unaware.

  When he entered the stable yard, one of the grooms ran forward. “Ye want me t’ saddle, Zeus, milord?”

  “By all means, my good man,” he said. The groom must be a recent addition to his staff because he did not recognize him. “What is your name? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  “I’m Hugo, sir.” The man tugged at the brim of his cap. “Th’ stable manager only hired me th’ other day. Me family just moved here last week. I promise I knows me way around horses, sir. Yer Zeus, he be mighty fine.”

  “Very good. Please get my horse ready quickly.” The man ran inside and soon led Zeus out. He mounted and turned toward the path to the pond. He set a leisurely pace, but once his mount was warmed up, he picked up speed. When he came to the straight part of the path, he took Zeus to a full gallop.

  He pulled in a lung full of the cold brisk air as he raced along the path, savoring this solitary moment. Soon he arrived at the pond. Once he dismounted, nostalgia washed over him as he remembered the carefree days of summer he’d spent there with Basil. God, he missed his cousin.

  At least he’d died doing what he loved best, riding the hunt. He’d always been horse mad. Damn, Basil was too young to die. Then to lose Uncle so soon. He was amazed Aunt Marjorie had handled it so well.

  While he’d had his reservations when the earl made Mildred his responsibility, it had turned out to be a Godsend for his aunt. What a pleasant surprise. Mary’s aunt was so different from the cranky woman he’d met in London.

  Glancing skyward, he located the sun peeking through the clouds. Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time. He’d dallied longer than he had intended and needed to return for his meeting with Adams.

  Guiding Zeus to a nearby log, he swung up into the saddle and set off on the path leading to the house. Soon he was galloping along, humming a merry tune. Until he heard something snap.

  His saddle slid under him.

  He tugged on the reins and dug his knees into his horse’s side, but before Zeus could respond to his command,
he lost his seat and tumbled to the ground, falling flat on his back.

  The wind whooshed from his lungs. One of his mount’s hoofs barely missed his head.

  He tried to gasp for air, but his lungs refused to work.

  His heart thundered in his ears.

  He grew light-headed.

  Then he knew…no more.

  Something cold nuzzled at his face as he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes to Zeus leaning over him. He gingerly sat up and pain shot through his lower chest. Damn, he must have cracked a rib or three.

  Crawling to a bolder at the side of the path, he managed to gain his footing, but he groaned as pain wracked his body. Zeus whinnied. Taking a step forward, he stumbled, then righted himself. Looking around, he saw his saddle lying in the mud and slush of melted snow.

  With extreme care, he went over to inspect it. The girth had completely separated, and it had clearly been cut. This was no accident. Someone had wanted him to fall. Probably anticipated the fall would break his neck. It was only by luck he had fallen on his back. The worst he’d suffered were a few bruised or cracked ribs.

  Who could have done this?

  Then he remembered the groom who had saddled his horse. He would wager when he made it back to the stables the man would be long gone. Swiping at the mud on his leather breeches, he swore as another stab of pain blazed through him.

  Slowly and with more caution, he made it back to Zeus. There was no way he could remount. Gathering the reins in his hands and leaning against Zeus for support, he took a couple of steps. As long as he did not breathe deeply and stepped lightly, he would make it back to the house, but it would take considerable time. He checked his watch. It was already nine o’clock. Perhaps Adams would come looking for him when he missed their meeting.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As Mary descended the stairs, the front door opened, and Cortland staggered in. When he collapsed, she called for Wallis and ran to her husband’s side. The butler rushed into the entry hall. Kneeling beside him, she checked for a pulse and found it strong and steady.

  Cortland opened his eyes and groaned. “I’m fine. Well, other than a few bruised or possibly cracked ribs. It was just a long and painful walk from the path where I fell off my horse.”

  Mary gasped. “Goodness, how did that happen?”

  “Wallis. Help me sit.” The butler offered his hand, and Cortland grasped it as the man pulled him into a sitting position. His groans alerted her to the pain it caused him. Her husband demanded, “Get Adams immediately.”

  The butler sent one of the footmen to find him. While they waited, Mary asked again, “I don’t understand. What caused you to fall?”

  “The girth…on my…saddle…broke.” He panted in between his words. “When it slipped…I lost my seat. Fortunately…I fell flat on my back…hence the bruised…ribs.”

  Adams rushed into the foyer. “My lord, what happened?”

  After the same brief explanation, Cortland grimaced. “I’ll tell you more once I’m in my chambers. Help me up to my rooms.”

  Wallis called for two footmen, and with each of them wrapping an arm around him, at last, they got him up the stairs and into bed. Larken ended up cutting off his jacket, because when he tried to remove it, Cortland let out a stream of curses Mary had never imagined would come out her husband’s mouth.

  She had to stifle a gasp when his valet pushed up his shirt. His torso was already turning several shades of purple and red. While his flesh was not broken, it did look swollen. No doubt the bruising would be severe. She was just grateful one of the ribs had not broken through his skin or punctured his lung.

  Mary took action, and told the butler to send for an apothecary immediately. While they waited for the man to arrive, Larken gave Cortland some laudanum to dull the pain and bound his ribs, which seemed to help. Once the medicine took effect, Cortland ordered, “Clear the room of all, except Adams and of course, you, my dear.”

  Once the others left, he told them once again about the girth splitting in two, and that, from the look of things, it had not been an accident. “Adams. When I left for my ride, a gruff-looking man named Hugo saddled my horse. I need you to go and see if that groom is still there. If he isn’t, then find out whether the stable master did indeed hire him. Return to me once you have that information.”

  “Certainly, sir. I shall return as quickly as possible.” He bowed to her and hurried from the room.

  Good Lord, someone was trying to kill her husband. A weight settled heavy on her chest. This was her fault. If Cortland had never married her, his life would not be in danger. He had already suffered so much during his captivity; he did not need this. “This is because of me. I’m so sorry I brought all this mayhem to you.”

  “Mary, this isn’t your fault,” he said with conviction radiating in his voice. “Whoever is doing this is to blame. Hopefully Adams will find out something. I don’t want you to worry. I should not have ridden out on my own. Until we locate the culprit, neither of us should travel by ourselves.”

  Then she voiced her greatest fear. “Could my father be behind all this? I pray that is not the case.”

  “I don’t think so,” he mused. “After all, I gave up your dowry, except for Winston Hall, and even paid his gambling debt. What would be his motive?”

  She sighed. “Who knows, with my father. He doesn’t like to be thwarted.”

  Someone knocked, and Mary bade them enter. Mr. Adams rushed in, breathless. “The man’s nowhere to be found, and the stable master hasn’t hired anyone new.”

  “Damn it,” Cortland growled. “It’s as I suspected.”

  “I think you need to hire those guards immediately and send for a runner,” Adams advised. “I looked at your saddle, and I agree…this was no accident. The girth had clearly been cut, but not all the way through. When you put strain on it during your ride, the uncut part gave way. It’s a true miracle you didn’t break your neck.”

  Shivers ran up Mary’s spine at his chilling words. Oh, please Lord, help us find the person behind this plot. I can’t lose my husband.

  Cortland grimaced as he tried to move, then settled against his pillow. “Thank you, Adams. Send for a runner and go into town. Hire at least four guards. In the meantime, have Wallis order the footmen to watch for anything suspicious. My wife has suggested her father could be behind this, but I believe it could be the Marquess of Worthington, the man the earl had wanted Lady Hardesty to marry.”

  “Very good, my lord. I will take care of it immediately, then ride into Cuddesdon. I’ll report back to you as soon as I learn anything.” Then his steward strode from the room as a small, wizened man entered with Wallis. “This is Mr. Reynolds, the apothecary, my lord.”

  Relieved, Mary said, “Thank you for coming so quickly, sir.”

  The little man’s eyes were kind as he replied, “No problem, your ladyship. Now, shall I take a look at his lordship?”

  She led him to the bed where Cortland rested. Although, clearly done in from his conversation with Adams, he opened his eyes and looked upon them. Gritting his teeth, her husband said, “Get on with it.”

  Mr. Reynolds lifted her husband’s shirt and poked around his chest and abdomen. With each touch, Cortland remained stoic, but obviously the examination caused him a great deal of pain, if she went by the strained expression on his face and the occasional grunt. Her heart ached for her husband, and she wished she could take his discomfort away.

  Once the man finished, he bounced on his toes, looking satisfied. “No ribs are broken. In fact, I find no evidence they are cracked either. With a few day’s rest, you should be fine. As you know, bruised ribs can be quite painful. Keep them wrapped and use laudanum to dull the discomfort, your lordship.”

  Cortland nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. I shall do as you suggest. My butler will show you out.”

  The man bowed to Mary, and Wallis escorted him from the chamber. Mary straightened the covers and adjusted his pillows. “Thank goo
dness, you didn’t break anything. Please try to rest while we wait for Mr. Adams’ return?”

  Cortland attempted a smile. “I think I’ll do that. The healing powers of sleep are exactly what I need. Please go about your day. I know you have much to prepare for our guests. Larken will get me anything I need.”

  While she hated to leave his side, she sensed Cortland wanted her gone, so she would respect his wishes. “Then I will leave you in his capable hands. I will check on you in a few hours.” She leaned over and kissed his brow. She kept a smile plastered on her face as she left his chamber, hiding the anger rising in her heart.

  This was the third time someone had tried to kill her husband. She could only pray a Bow Street runner could find out who was behind these attempts. Although it caused her a stab of pain to imagine her father doing this, it must be him. There was no one else. She did not believe it was the marquess. After all, that despicable man had not accepted her father’s offer immediately. He may have decided he was not interested in her, once he’d had time to think about it.

  Well, she needed to meet with Mrs. Hadley to discuss sleeping arrangements for all their guests. She’d busy herself with that for the time being. With her brothers scheduled to arrive in a few hours, and Kathleen and Andrew arriving on Monday, she had quite a bit to do.

  After straightening her hair, she set out to find the housekeeper. Once she located her, she made sure all was ready for Michael and Charles. Thank goodness this house had plenty of bedchambers, because they would use a good many of them for the holidays.

  By the time the carriage arrived, she had everything well in hand, and dashed outside to greet them. Being older, Charles climbed out first with fourteen-year-old Michael on his heels. She squeezed Charles. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.” Then she moved on to Michael. “Goodness, where is my little brother? You’ve grown so much since the fall, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Michael laughed as he returned her hug. “You couldn’t expect me to remain the same forever.” His voice changed an octave mid-sentence, and his face blushed to the roots of his hair. He kicked at the gravel. “I hate when that happens. I’ll be glad when my voice finally changes completely.”