The Discarded Wife

by Camille Oster

  "Right," Sophie said. Good. A distraction. Maybe that would help her get her thoughts in order. "Yes, tea would be lovely." She was parched, in fact, or was that the steady and ubiquitous nervousness she felt since the moment she had stepped out of the house this morning?

  Sophie found Minette in the salon, sitting on a brocade sofa set in the corner. "There you are," she said and patted the seat next to her. This weather is dreary, isn't it? I think Tristan went out. Something about a bridge. How was your riding lesson?"

  Clearing her throat, Sophie tried to stop the blush from creeping up her cheeks. "Good. The horse seems sensible."

  "Yes, sensible. What you want in a horse. Tea?"

  "Please."

  "I must leave soon. Myself and Alfie had a lovely time this morning. You really do need to hire another tutor for him."

  "Ideally one that Aberley won't send away."

  Minette smiled. "He is jealous. It is, I am fairly sure, a new emotion for him."

  Accepting the teacup, Sophie didn't know how to reply.

  "In fact, I don't think he knows what to do with his emotions in general. Men are such dolts when they are in love."

  "I don't think—" Sophie went to argue.

  "They have no idea what to do. So capable in most regards, but when it comes down to a woman, they are quite clueless."

  A reply completely escaped Sophie. Just the concept refused to turn over in her mind. In love. That was utterly ridiculous.

  "If he had only had his eyes open seven years ago, things could have gone so differently, but no matter. It has all come back to this, in the end, hasn't it? It's as if it was meant to be."

  "I don't think—"

  "Quite romantic. Such a practical man. Who would have thought he had it in him?"

  Romantic? Aberley? No, that wasn't him at all.

  But nothing Sophie said was budging Minette from her train of thought. "It's not easy for him, you must understand. He has always been alone—from the time he was a child. I'm sure he is making a hash of it." She laughed a little. "But you must give him some leeway. He has no frame of reference, either as a father or a husband. Not really a lover either. But what are we to do with such men? Do we give up on them entirely?"

  "I—"

  "No, we must be understanding. But it isn't a concept of we, is it? It is more you."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. It is you he is in love with."

  "I don't think—"

  "Don't you? Then it must have escaped your notice." Minette daintily sipped her tea.

  Sophie's mouth moved, but she still didn't know what to say.

  "But please don't toy with him. I would hate for him to withdraw more than he has already. He is so very hard to reach as it is. I don't think he would recover."

  Closing her eyes, Sophie wished she could flop her head down into her hands. This was all too complicated. "In fact, I don't think he likes me at all."

  "What does like have to do with love? It is love he strives against, not you, my dear."

  "I don't think you understand the situation."

  "Are you saying I don't understand my dearest friend? I understand him, probably better than you do." Her voice was sharp and Sophie felt admonished. "If you cannot see what he is, then you are not looking."

  Maybe there was some truth to that. She had spent so much time thinking of him as an enemy and anticipating his next move, she hadn't really looked at him—until he'd kissed her. Admittedly, there was that little part where he admitted he'd chased away any man that came near her—if she wished to be picky about it.

  "There he is now," Minette said, looking out the window, where Aberley was approaching on horseback. He looked so serious, so absorbed. Was he thinking about her? About the kiss?

  Nervousness clenched her stomach tightly, as if the floor had given way under her.

  Gracefully, he dismounted and drew the reins over his horse’s head before stroking the animal's muzzle. He was kind to horses, and dogs, and their son. Minette was right—he was so very contained and distanced. Everything about him. Yet he maintained a friendship with someone like Minette, because he needed her.

  It was a ludicrous notion to think this man was in love with her. Minette had to be wrong, but then there was the kiss. A kiss of hunger and need.

  "Shall we go greet him?" Minette suggested and it took a few moments before the question sunk in for Sophie. "Come, let's say hello."

  Taken by the arm, Sophie was urged toward the main entrance, where the door soon opened and he came in. His scanning eyes sought her and settled there. Could he really be in love with her? Love was a big thing; it was what she wanted more than riches, more than status. She had known its value and if he felt it, she couldn't blame him for pursuing it.

  Could she love him in return? The answer was yes; she knew it was.

  "Oh, I left my book. Silly of me. Wellswar, help me find my book. You can help Tristan with his coat, can't you?" Minette said, pushing Sophie forward. "Wellswar. Now."

  Aberley was wet. The drizzle had soaked into his clothes.

  "Yes, of course," Sophie finally replied, but turned to the empty space where Minette had been.

  Stepping forward, she went to help with his coat, which was heavy and almost sticking to him. She had to peel it off his shoulders, feeling the warm, firm muscles under her fingers. "We do seem to get wet a great deal."

  "It is the country."

  He had to be cold, though. "You'll catch your death."

  "I'm not quite so fragile," he replied after a moment. She had been shivering and freezing when she'd been soaked, and she'd needed his heat. A thrill lurched her stomach at the thought.

  "I can ask Wellswar to draw you a bath." His shirt wasn't all wet, only patches of it. His beeches had to be, at least around the knees.

  "It looks worse than it is, and I don't think Minette is going to let him come back just yet. She is set on interfering."

  "So I have gathered," Sophie said, blushing. "She is… concerned for you."

  They stood for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. He wasn't taking himself upstairs to change, though.

  "I think she might have seen the kiss," he finally said.

  Sophie frowned. "Then Alfie probably saw it too."

  "Do you think it would please him? If we… kissed."

  "He might find it confusing."

  "Do you find it confusing?"

  "Yes," she admitted.

  "There is a very simple solution to all of this. Well, simple might be an understatement. Nothing about this has been simple. But I suppose it is simple when it comes down to it. Minette, I believe, thinks it's a simple solution."

  "Do you?"

  "I think I have come to that realization."

  Sophie opened her mouth but nothing came out. She didn't have time to compose anything, because with a step forward, he was there, his lips pressed to hers. Well, in that context, perhaps things were simple. A kiss ignored the past and everything that had happened between them. Just cut straight through it.

  The warmth of his mouth melted into her. The cool of his wet shirt under her finger, and the hard pressure of his body to hers. His tongue explored, tasted and teased. Every thought in her head melted away and was replaced by sensation—taste, scent, feel and even the small groan out of his throat. It felt like every tension she'd felt inside her had melted, but was replaced with new, more compelling tension.

  Chapter 38

  THE KISS DEEPENED. Every part of him was pressed to her and she could feel that he wanted more—needed more. There was no denying he wanted her.

  Tearing himself away, he broke the kiss, leaving Sophie feeling stranded and aching for more.

  "If you come upstairs with me now, I can't guarantee I will be able to contain myself."

  It was the very word she had used to describe him and now he said he couldn't contain himself with her. Sophie blinked, trying to clear her mind. She didn't want him to; she wanted him uncontained—unr
estrained. She wanted the hardness she felt. She wanted the man she had foreseen so many years ago—the man who wanted her in return. Here he was and her body ached for him.

  "My grip on myself isn't strong enough. If you must protect your chastity, I think you must stay away from me for a little while."

  "We would only be doing what everyone thinks we're doing," she said breathily. She couldn't stop her hands from reaching for him, feel the solid form of him underneath her touch. "Except for those who know we haven't been and wish we are."

  "What do you wish?" he asked, stepping close to her again, and she received him with a sigh of relief. That was what she’d always wanted, but she had relegated herself to expect less. Not to disparage Doug, for he had always been lovely, but the passion had never truly been bone deep like it felt right now.

  "I don't wish to think right now."

  "There could be consequences."

  "I would love consequences," she said, not until that moment having realized that she would very much like for there to be a consequence. Another child would be sheer joy, even if it made things more complicated. Children were a gift, a purpose in life.

  With searching lips, he kissed her again, his hand cupping the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. Then he drew away, his lips retreating slowly. "No child of mine will be born out of wedlock. Fair warning. I had enough trouble correcting that last time."

  Sophie stared at him, her thoughts turning over his statement. "I am sorry I made that so difficult for you."

  "I think we both went about everything the wrong way. I'm not willing to do that again. I want the right way, do you understand?"

  She nodded.

  "Marriage," he stated so they were clear. She blinked. Marriage. Those were his terms and surprisingly it wasn’t as shocking to her as she would expect. There was a vision of them in her head, and it wasn’t the fantasies of a young girl, but comforts and communion she sought as a woman. Yes, they fought when they had to, but they could also be so much more. When in agreement, they settled happily with each other. So, now, were they in agreement? Did she agree to marry this man if there were consequences?

  "Yes," she finally said. Actually, right now, she hoped he didn’t have some notion of marriage before consummation, because her body was on fire. The tension in her needed release and she didn't want to wait for the vicar to be called—or worse, having to wait days for a marriage license. "Can we still go upstairs now?" she asked.

  He smiled, it spread lusciously over his lips and she loved seeing it. Everything about him changed so when he smiled, and her insides ached even more. "Provided you promise you will say yes at the altar."

  "When have I ever said no to you at the altar?"

  With that smile still on his lips, he stepped closer, but then he got distracted by her lips. His hands sneaking down to her thighs, pulled them around him as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, and kicking the door closed behind him. "I will absolutely hold you to that promise," he said as he dropped her down on the bed.

  Sophie loved the heated look in his eyes, the desire, the possessiveness. That was how a man should look at her, and it hadn't quite been there before. He wanted to consume her—and she wanted him to.

  With a knee between hers, he leaned over her to kiss her again and Sophie welcomed him, drawing him down. The weight of him was glorious, her thighs cradling him. How had it taken them so long to get here—it seemed so very natural now. In a way, it felt as if she’d been hiding from this—a little scared of it, because right now, she knew there was no going back. If he hurt her again, she wasn’t sure she could stem the bleeding.

  Pulling back, he traced his lips down her neck and lower. Sophie’s eyes swam shut with the pleasure of it, until his hands grabbed the neckline of dress and tore it. "Oops," he said. "Did that rip? The dress is ruined. What a shame. Although I have to admit it has driven me to distraction more times that I care to mention. But I can't run around and worry about it having the same effect on others. Apparently, I am a jealous man and it will have me worrying myself into an early grave."

  Hovering for a moment, his warm breath teased her before his mouth clasped around her nipple and teased until she arched into him. Sensations swirled down her body into her very core, where she needed him most. His firm tongue flicked the nub mercilessly, sending waves of teasing pleasure pulsing through her.

  Her throat tight, she couldn't breathe. She didn't need air; she needed him, seeking the friction she ached for. Leaning back further, he tore the dress more, splitting it down the front and the material gave. Then tugged his shirt over his head and he was bare before her. Magnificent and strong. Healthy, she thought a little guiltily, but he was so beautiful. Her hands reached for him, receiving his warm skin as he came to her again.

  Efficiently, he undid his breeches and settled again between her thighs. "You have me undone," he said between large, heavy breaths. "Please know that." But Sophie was beyond thinking. Words meant nothing—just the aching desire for him.

  Slowly, he pushed in. It was a moment of stillness, giving to a riot of sensation. Fullness, ache and tension. It felt so wonderful and so right, as though they belonged being joined like this. Sinking in to the hilt, he encased himself in her, and they lay skin to skin. The fullness of him inside her had her body clasping around him.

  Breath was impossible, but Sophie needed more from him—needed him to move. Her hands on his backside, she drew him deeper and her body convulsed powerfully around him. Waves of pleasure surged through her, but she needed more.

  Drawing back, he pushed into her again. Renewed surges of sensation stormed up her body and she sought his lips, needing that complete intimacy. His lips grazed hers as he moved again, firmly sinking into her, again and again, until she couldn't take any more.

  Now she was coming undone, completely and utterly. This was all she needed. Him inside her. How she had wanted to love him, and here they were undone in each other’s bodies. He was the father of her child, and maybe even the knight she had once thought he had been.

  His groans reverberated through her mind, feeding the peace inside her—and the pleasure. Bringing her knees up further, she brought him deeper, wanting everything of him.

  Tension built so high, she didn't know what to do with it, until deep, powerful surges of exquisiteness washed through her. He didn't move now, only groaned as every part of his body tensed. His seed was spilling inside her and she wanted it, wanted him.

  Deep, reverberating aftershocks traveled through his body into hers. The convulsions of pleasure slowly subsided and she felt utterly exposed to them, her body tender to every sensation.

  The whole of his weight sank down on her and she wrapped him in her arms and nuzzled her face into his hair. She wanted to stay like this forever, even as her lungs screamed for air.

  Finally, he rolled to his side, pulling away from her. On his back, he breathed deeply, trying to recuperate his breath. He drew her to him, onto the crook of his arms and he wasn't letting go.

  "The other day, did you buy something that would be suitable as a wedding dress?"

  Her kisses on his chest paused even as the taste of him teasingly lingered on her tongue. Did he wish to continue with the marriage even without being forced to by consequences? It seemed he did. Perhaps he truly was in love with her.

  It wasn’t as if she had doubted his words, but perhaps she hadn’t truly understood the validity of it until they’d had this full intimacy, where every defense had been laid to waste. As she looked him in the eyes now, she could see his vulnerability. His eyes searched hers. He was giving her all of him—she could see it in his eyes, and it was up to her to respond. Downstairs, she had said yes, but like this, completely naked and vulnerable, she had to give him a true and constant answer. Would she take him as her husband? Even after everything that had passed between them, she knew there was more here than had been on the surface. There was nothing about her that she had hidden from him—partially as a
means to scare him off, but here he was, asking her to take this leap of faith with him.

  She nodded. "I am sure one of them will be fine. We don't have to get married right this minute. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

  Leaning his head over, he kissed her on her forehead. "I will hold you to that. But I think we should get married as soon as possible. I think there will be consequences."

  "Are you so assured of your own virility?" she asked with a smile, teasing him.

  "We do have a history of being well suited in that regard."

  That was true and then, she had never taken a man so deep inside her as she had now. It felt that way anyway, or maybe she had simply taken a man into her heart as well as into her body.

  "We shall need a proper honeymoon this time," he said.

  "This time," she repeated, thinking it sounded funny.

  "Where would you like to go?”

  “I don’t care. I just want to be here,” she said, indicating between them. This was what she wanted, a man who let all form of pretense drop away and simply gave himself to her. There was nothing here but a man and a woman who wanted each other.

  He seemed to understand and for a moment, they simply were in silence. Then he smiled, lightening the exchange. “Well, I have always wanted to travel. We'll go the three of us. Four. Mary will have to come. There will be times when I will want you to myself. Venice? Paris?"

  Sophie thought about it. "I have always wanted to see the Alps."

  He considered her for a moment. "We can do that. The Alps, it is."

  "We'll have to marry before Minette leaves. She can serve as a witness."

  With a smile, Sophie realized she was getting married the moment her new dresses arrived, which was probably that afternoon. She didn't mind, but Tristan felt urgency. It was sweet. Did he fear something going wrong? With their history, it was perhaps understandable, but he didn't need to worry about anything. She wasn't going anywhere.