The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One

by Farmer, Merry

  “As soon as possible,” Jason agreed.

  Alex had the feeling it wouldn’t be possible for quite a long time. The trick had worked, though. George was gone, she’d held her own against him, and she’d had the support not only of Marshall, but of his friends as well. It was almost as though she’d married into a circle of friendship as well as just taking Marshall’s name.

  Her heart felt lighter for the rest of the supper. The conversation steered toward happier topics, though Alex didn’t take part in much of it. Marshall remained mostly silent as well, though he continued to dart looks across the table to Mother Grace. Mother Grace didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by it, though.

  All too soon, the supper ended and, one by one, Marshall’s friends left. When it became impossible for Alex to continue sitting at the table, she too stood and walked across the dining room and into the lobby by Marshall’s side. Most of their party left from there, but Jason and Flossie accompanied them upstairs.

  “Here’s your key,” Jason said, presenting Marshall with a beautifully wrought key. “Lawrence made it, of course. And the honeymoon suite is at the end of the hall there.”

  “Let us know if there’s anything you need,” Flossie said, sending a particular look to Alex.

  “Thank you,” Alex said, unsurprised that her voice was small and weak.

  Jason and Marshall said their goodbyes, then Marshall escorted Alex down the hall. The honeymoon suite was marked with a small plaque, and when Marshall opened the door, the opulence of the room took Alex’s breath away.

  “This is incredible,” she said, stepping into the room and turning in a circle to take it all in.

  The room was decorated in shades of rose and cream. The wallpaper had an expensive sheen to it. A fire was already crackling cheerfully in the marble fireplace. Tasteful paintings of rose gardens decorated the walls. The curtains were already closed, but Alex had a feeling that the view would be as spectacular as the room’s furnishings. And the crowning glory of those furnishings was an enormous bed with a canopy that consisted of a confection of silk and tulle hangings.

  But once Alex’s eyes fell on the bed, she couldn’t look anywhere else. She pressed a hand to her stomach as she stared at it. The door clicked behind her as Marshall locked it. His footsteps on the carpet rang in her ears as he approached her side. But instead of sweeping her into his arms, instead of seducing her with words, instead of doing anything that the room was meant for, he just stood there by her side, staring at the bed with her.

  “What do you think we should do?” he asked after a painfully long pause.

  Every hair on Alex’s body felt as though it stood on end, just as every one of her nerves bristled. Her heart raced, though she could barely take a breath.

  “What do you think we should do?” she asked, taking the easy way out. She continued to stare straight forward, utterly lacking the courage to look at him.

  He was silent for a long time. “We’re husband and wife now,” he said.

  She peeked sideways at him. “You know that’s not actually an answer, don’t you?”

  He darted a sidelong look to her. His mouth twitched, and amusement joined the anxiety in his eyes. “I haven’t been this terrified since…I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified.”

  “Me neither,” Alex blurted, bursting into laughter. She gasped, slapping a hand to her mouth, but the laughter wouldn’t stop. Worse still, Marshall joined in, making it even more impossible for her to be serious. “We shouldn’t laugh,” she said. “This is a grave moment.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “But I can’t help myself. It’s so…absurd.”

  “What were we thinking?” she asked, turning to face him.

  “That we could somehow fix all of our problems in one fell swoop?” he answered, turning to her as well and taking her hands.

  “We’re such fools,” she said, shaking her head.

  “But at least we’re fools together,” he said.

  In a flash, he was serious. His eyes filled with the sort of longing Alex had seen from him for weeks, only intensified. It was suddenly harder for her to catch her breath, and impossible for her to move. He inched closer to her, sliding his hands along her waist and around her back. He was so close that his presence seemed to envelop her, and yet she couldn’t pull away. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

  And then it was too late. His mouth closed over hers, and his arms pressed her flush against him. And, heaven help her, she responded with a willingness that left her soul trembling. His kiss intensified, and her response matched it. She snaked her arms around his sides, spreading her hands across his back. How had she never realized how fit Marshall Pycroft was? His torso was all lean muscle. The wild idea struck her that she wanted to explore more of him.

  “I’ll get your buttons,” he said at length, voice hoarse.

  She nodded and he stepped away from her. She turned her back to him, but before his hands reached for the row of buttons down her back, she heard the rustling sound of him removing his jacket and waistcoat. A shock of electricity shot through her when his fingers brushed the back of her neck and as he made quick work of her buttons. She shrugged out of her sleeves as he finished with the fastenings at the small of her back. Her gown sagged as it and her petticoats slipped toward the floor, but it was the sensation of his hands circling around her corseted waist, the heat of his breath against her neck as he pulled her close and kissed her heated flesh that drove every last bit of sense from her mind.

  “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you,” he whispered nuzzling her shoulder. His fingers worked the hooks of her corset loose with surprising skill. “I’ve wanted you so desperately.”

  Alex shivered. There was no answer to words like those, delivered so passionately. George had never said anything half as enticing, and he’d never touched her with such ardent devotion. The moment her corset was unhooked, Marshall tossed it aside and pulled the hem of her chemise up enough to smooth his hands across the bare flesh of her stomach. His hands continued up, cupping her breasts and kneading them. She let out a plaintive moan and sagged against him, not because she wanted to get away from his touch, but because it filled her with such powerful pleasure that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand on her own.

  She tried to hang on to a sense of reserve. She was with Marshall, after all, not a romantic hero who had stepped out of her naughtiest fantasies. Marshall was a friend, a colleague. He was also nibbling her shoulder and then lifting her chemise up over her head. She should be cautious and careful. They would have to work together in the morning, look each other in the eye all day long. But when he dropped her chemise to the side and turned her to face him, she molded against him, seeking out another searing kiss as though she would suffocate without him.

  She was so overcome with need that it barely registered when he lifted her out of the puddle of her clothes and carried her to the bed. She actually found herself wriggling out of her drawers and stockings as he raced to shed his clothes. She’d gone mad, completely mad, but when he joined her in bed, sliding between the sheets with her and rolling her to her back, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Their mouths met, their hands sought each other out, and Alex found herself moaning for more with every move they made.

  Flossie had been right. Marshall wasn’t remotely like George. The way he touched her left her sweating and panting for more. The further they took things, the less inhibited she felt. Instead of working hard to convince herself that she enjoyed lovemaking, she found herself fighting to hold back from groping him like a strumpet and urging him to do the same. For a moment, she was certain she actually wanted to explore him with her mouth in the exact same way that had seemed so horrible and choking when George had insisted she do it with him.

  She didn’t have a chance to suggest it, though, with words or with actions. Marshall’s hands worked wonders on her overheated body, and when he slipped his fingers between her legs and stroked her in a certa
in way, her eyes popped wide at the sensations he raised in her. She found herself gasping for air as he played with her, using gentle, insistent strokes. He kissed her neck and shoulder as he did, his breathing deeper and laced with sounds of passion that were as wonderful as they were foreign. And when impatience seemed to get the better of him and his kisses turned to a gentle but desperate bite where her shoulder met her neck, she burst into spasms of release that sent pleasure radiating through her and left her crying out with bliss.

  His cries echoed hers, and before her body finished throbbing, he shifted and thrust inside of her. She gasped at the sensation, clutching him with her arms and legs as he surged into her over and over. She arched into him, meeting each of his thrusts with an impassioned sigh, encouraging him to keep going, harder and faster. He did, and within moments she was shuddering with orgasm a second time. He must have felt it as well. His cries grew pitched, then solidified into a long, primal sound as his body tensed, then released as he rocked within her, then gradually stilled.

  They collapsed together into a messy, panting pile, neither possessing the energy to fully extract from the other. Most surprising of all, Alex didn’t want to pull away from him. She didn’t want him to leave her body or back away from her at all. She kept her arms and legs wrapped around him as best she could, stunned by the heavenly sensations that filled her.

  Marshall relaxed into her, as if he’d been attempting to work up the energy to separate from her, but had given up. “My darling,” he panted, his voice laced with exhaustion. “My wife.”

  Alex threaded her fingers through his hair as he rested half on the pillow and half on her shoulder. She couldn’t have found words to express herself, even if she’d known what she wanted to say. All she knew was that a new day had dawned in her life, and it was far more dazzling than she ever could have imagined it would be.

  Episode Two - A String of Consequences

  Marshall

  It was extraordinary. For the first time in twelve years, since marrying Clara, completing medical school, raising three daughters, running a hospital on his own, and rarely sleeping more than a few hours on end per night, Marshall slept like a log through the night. Twice. The first night, he could have explained it away as the luxury of sleeping in a quality bed in Jason’s hotel, but the second night, he’d been in his own bed, the place where he’d laid his head every night for years. And he’d slept.

  The difference was Alexandra. She lay in his arms, breathing in a long, steady rhythm that said she was still asleep as the first, misty hints of dawn crept around the edges of the threadbare curtains in his bedroom. One of her arms was stretched across his chest, and her leg rested over his thigh. Her breath heated his shoulder, and the scent of her filled his nose. They were both naked, and after the night before, not exactly as fresh as spring.

  A slow smile spread across Marshall’s face. He knew full well why he’d slept so well during the last two nights. Because Lawrence had been right. His fears that disaster would befall the moment he got Alex in bed were completely unfounded. Quite the opposite. As mad as he still thought it was, the same sort of symbiosis that made them such perfect partners in the surgery also made them an excellent match as lovers. And while it was true that the way Alex was with him in bed felt entirely separate from the way she’d interacted with him the day before—when they’d returned to work as man and wife with all the outward appearance that nothing at all had changed between them—that new aspect of their relationship was something he could most definitely get used to.

  There was just enough light in the room for him to see the hands of the old clock on the mantel of his bedroom fireplace. They had another twenty minutes before they had to get up, shake sleep away, and prepare for another day of patients at the hospital. That was more than enough time, considering how “awake” he already was.

  With a grin like a thief on his way to steal the Crown Jewels, Marshall rolled Alex to her back and positioned himself between her knees. She drew in a breath, waking up, as he rained kisses across her shoulder and chest. Two nights had barely been enough time to learn what she liked and didn’t like, but he’d discovered enough to know she responded when he brushed his fingertips lightly across her belly. She liked it when he nibbled on her neck as well, which was evidenced by the faint, red marks he’d left the night before. And her whole body came alive like a combustion engine when he stroked the wet folds of her sex.

  Her eyes popped open as he found the perfect spot and circled it with wicked intent.

  “Good morning, wife,” he said in a voice far too seductive to be his own.

  “Marshall,” she whispered his name, sending the blood pulsing through him.

  In no time at all, she was writhing with pleasure under his touch. Her responses were completely uninhibited and fascinating. She didn’t stiffen up or push him away, as Clara always had. Alex actually liked it when he gave her pleasure. She mewled seductively and moved with him to embrace what she was feeling. It was so monumentally rewarding to make love to a woman who welcomed sensuality that he had a hard time holding himself back. The moment Alex gasped and moaned as her orgasm began, he pushed inside of her, riding the waves of her climax until it brought on his own. He came faster and harder than he ever had with Clara. It had been the same every one of the numerous times they’d made love in the last two days.

  At last, they lay in the tangled sheets, spent and panting, for a few blissful minutes before Alex asked in a groggy voice, “What time is it?”

  “Almost six,” Marshall answered, stroking her side. “I gave us plenty of time.”

  She turned to smile at him, her eyes heavy-lidded in the aftermath of what they’d shared. Within moments, her relaxed, sated expression vanished, replaced by an all-too-familiar anxiety. “It’ll be today,” she said. “I know it will. It didn’t happen yesterday, so it’s bound to happen today.”

  Marshall let out a breath. The peace of the moment was lost. He pulled Alex into his arms, kissing her lightly, before inching back in an attempt to work up the energy to get out of bed. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there by your side.”

  She relaxed by a hair. “I know you will be.”

  With a slight wince, as though delicate parts of her were sore, she rolled out of bed and stood. Marshall got up as well, surprisingly unashamed of being naked around her and highly appreciative of the sight of her body. He would look at her and touch her and make love to her all day if he were able to. It didn’t even bother him that she still clung to some sort of ingrained modesty, or that she snatched up a robe to put on, her cheeks pink as she did. The way she darted covert looks at him was enough to hint that she was impishly curious, even though the professional wall was already coming down between them.

  “Aren’t you going to put something on before walking to the washroom?” she asked as he pulled open the bedroom door.

  “When I know how much you like looking at my meat and two veg?” he asked with a devilish grin. “Of course not.”

  Her reluctant laughter as he marched out of the room kept the smile on his face. He would have to get into the habit of covering up once the girls were home. It’d only taken one instance of Mary catching him in the altogether when she was six years old for him to know that he never wanted to experience that level of embarrassment ever again. But for the next four months, until the hearing in January, he intended to spend as much time as possible looking like a satyr on a piece of unmentionable Greek artwork. After everything he’d been through, he deserved it.

  Of course, it simply wasn’t feasible to run around acting like Jason all day. Not with the amount of responsibility both he and Alex had on their shoulders. And she was right about the possibility of everything coming to a head that day.

  After spending their honeymoon night at the hotel, they’d returned to work at the hospital, expecting Alex’s mother to come marching in at any moment, demanding answers. Especially after the encounter with George Fretwell at supper. It sim
ply didn’t seem possible that Fretwell hadn’t gone straight to Huntingdon Hall to report the marriage to Lord Thornhill and Lady Elizabeth.

  Sure enough, word had reached the hospital around midday the day before that Lady Charlotte and her new husband had returned to Huntingdon Hall. But the hours ticked by, the sun sank toward the horizon, and the hospital remained undisturbed. They’d left work and returned home, but no notes had been left at the house, no stern-faced servants waited for them, and after a tense, uninterrupted supper, there was no angry knock on the door. So they’d gone to bed early and spent several hours doing everything they could to forget their troubles.

  “At least we have that cancer surgery this morning to keep us occupied,” Alex said as they met in the kitchen several minutes later. The frown lines between her eyes were pronounced, proving that she hadn’t stopped thinking about her mother.

  Marshall handed her a cup of coffee. “I love how you say ‘at least we have a cancer surgery today.’ You’re a woman after my own heart.”

  She sent him a sheepish look over her cup as she took a sip. “I’m a horrible person for being grateful Mr. McClintock has bowel cancer.”

  “No,” Marshall corrected her, finishing his coffee and moving to the sink to wash out his mug. “You’re a horrible person for letting me do that thing last night.”

  “Marshall,” she scolded. Her face was beet red when he turned to fetch his empty oatmeal bowl from the table. She peeked at him with mischief in her eyes before shoveling down her breakfast. “You won’t mention any of that at the hospital, will you?” she asked with uncharacteristic vulnerability halfway through the bowl.

  “Of course not,” he said, hurrying to straighten the kitchen as much as he could. “I don’t want anyone else knowing what a wicked woman you are. They’d all be jealous.”

  Alex continued to blush, which made Marshall feel like the luckiest man alive. They finished up their breakfast and tidying, then left the house together, striding up Church Street to Lake Street while talking about procedure for Mr. McClintock’s surgery. It was unfortunate that the old farmer had been struck with cancer, and while no prognosis for cancer was good, both Marshall and Alex had kept abreast of the latest developments in surgical intervention and were eager to put what they’d read about to the test. Of course, they would be a damn sight more effective in treating serious illnesses if either of them were able to attend further study in London, or even Manchester or Birmingham, but they would do what they could where they could no matter what.