Colin's Conundrum: A Steamy 19th Century Romance (The Victorians Book 3)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  “Wait,” he said aloud. “Daisy is smart, like Mother. One of the smartest women I've known. She's no fool.”

  Ah, but she fancies herself in love with you.

  “Shut up!” he ordered the sly voice, not caring that he sounded like a madman. “Shut up with your lies and your meanness. Is it you, Father, who wants so badly to steal even this one small joy? I was never your image of a proper gentleman, so I don't deserve to be happy? You didn't love your wife, so I don't dare love mine?”

  Then, he realized what he had said. “Dear God. Do I love Daisy? No, not yet. I've known her only a few months, but I could.” The thought stole his breath away from his chest. He laid his hand over his heart and drew in a shattered gasp.

  His gasp echoed in a scream.

  Colin shot up off the ground and ran in the direction of his door. There, framed in the light from the kitchen window, stood a figure clad all in black with a wide-brimmed black hat and a black handkerchief tied over his face.

  “You there!” Colin shouted. “What are you doing? Get away from my home!”

  A white object flew in his direction and he dodged. The figure to wheeled around and raced for the woods.

  Colin ran after him, but within moments knew it was hopeless. The dark clothing in the dark forest, where even the moonlight had to filter through dense summer foliage, would leave the interloper invisible. He, on the other hand, in a light tan shirt and buff trousers—albeit dirty after a long day of work—would glow like stars in the darkness and likely invoke a shower of rocks.

  He turned back toward the house, heart pounding. Without any further thought, he raced to the doorway and threw open the door. Racing in, he locked the door behind him with a deft twist of the key.

  He looked around for his wife but for a moment couldn't find her in the dimly lit kitchen. The glow that had seemed to pour into the night from the window inside only turned out to come from a couple of candles on the dining table and an oil lamp on the floor beside the bathtub, which had not been out a half hour ago when he left.

  Turning, he saw Daisy's pale form, crouching by the window, peering out into the night. Her whole body visibly trembled.

  He hurried to her without a moment's consideration and dragged her into his arms.

  She screamed, swatting and scratching at his hands.

  “Daisy, Daisy, love, it's me. It's Colin.”

  She continued fighting. “Let go! Let me go! Don't touch me!”

  “Daisy,” he breathed again, his lips against her ear.

  The fight went out of her and she sagged in his embrace. “Colin?”

  “Yes, love. I've got you.”

  A shudder ran up her spine and culminated in a choking sob. She turned in his arms and grabbed two big fistfuls of his shirt, hiding her face in the stained fabric and inhaling deeply. “There…” her voice broke. “There was a man.” Several shattered sobs followed, and then she choked, “At the window.” Pant pant. “Looking at me.”

  “I know, love I saw. I saw him. I chased him into the woods.”

  “Why…” Sob. “Why would anyone do such a thing? Who looks into other people's windows?”

  Colin didn't answer. He knew that the answer—normal, healthy people don't. Only sick, dangerous people did—would do nothing to comfort his wife. “The door is locked now, love, and he's gone. You're safe with me.”

  For some reason, his words invoked a fresh flood of tears. Daisy sobbed against his shoulder, clutching him as though she'd never let go. “For how long, Colin?” she whimpered at last. “How long until you send me away? Until you finally reject me for good? Who will protect me when I have to try to live alone?” Shattered sobs stole away whatever else she might have tried to say.

  “I don't want to,” he breathed, admitting the dangerous truth aloud as her wounded vulnerability finally achieved what her tempting cheer had not.

  “Then DON'T!” she wailed. “Don't send me away. I can't stand it. I want to be here, with you. This is my home. Please.”

  “Hush now, Daisy. Hush, love.” He rubbed one hand up and down her bare, wet back. She's naked, he realized, glancing down at the lush, womanly form pressed up against his front. Without consideration, his stroking hand wandered lower to cup the plump curve of her buttock.

  Daisy bit her lip and lifted her head. Her red, tear-stained eyes glowed in the dim room. She blinked, thick, golden lashes flashing over the verdant light.

  One hand released its hold on his shirt and crept up his shoulder to grasp the back of his neck. A soft pressure drew him down, down.

  He obeyed, helpless to resist the unspoken demand, and his lips met hers with an internal reverberation that resounded through his heart like a gong. There will be no going back. There will be no further talk of leaving or retreating. No thought of it. If you take what she's offering, you will belong to her forever.

  The eager pleasure that responded told him everything he needed to know.

  Unworthy though I may be, the lady has chosen me, and I have no choice but to accept. I honestly don't want anything else.

  Daisy's lips parted and thought shattered, leaving Colin one raw nerve, eager to be stimulated. Daisy did not disappoint. Still holding him captive against her lips, while her tongue tangled with his in lush provocation, she used her free hand to tug his shirt free of his waistband and slide her hand underneath. Her fingers trailed over his belly, spurring a riot of ticklish arousal. His eyes slid closed as he surrendered to the inevitable.

  Daisy's fingers stroked and gently scratched his chest. He could feel the callouses from her life of hard work against his skin. The hand of a woman who is not afraid to make things happen, no matter how difficult. The hand of a woman who's ready for any challenge, so long as she doesn't have to face it alone.

  He grasped her questing fingers in a gentle restraint and broke their lusty embrace, drawing her hand upward to his lips, where he kissed the pad of her index finger.

  Their eyes met in a moment of unguarded connection that told him, though his reticence had strained the essential bond between them, it was not yet broken.

  “Is this what you want, love?” he asked solemnly. “Are you sure?”

  In response, she reached for his shirt again, this time loosening its entire circumference from around his waist and tugging it up toward his neck.

  “Easy, love. I'll help.” He stripped it off, but she had already moved, attacking the buttons on his belly with frustrated haste. Unable to manipulate the closures in her current state, she boldly stroked her hand downward to cup his erection.

  “All right, all right. Half a moment.” Colin nearly ripped the buttons off his trousers trying to free them, but after a few seconds of fumbling, the garment slid to the floor. Though he'd left off an undershirt when he'd dressed that morning, in deference to the midsummer heat, he still had to contend with high-waisted drawers, which he bunched and tangled, with Daisy's unhelpful assistance, until he could kick it off his ankles.

  He didn't even have time to remove his stockings before Daisy grasped his arms and dragged him onto the floor. The cool, varnished wood felt hard under his knees, but he barely noticed as the rest of his body compressed warm, sweet woman.

  She claimed his mouth again, desperate, it seemed, to merge their two souls into one.

  Bracing his weight on one hand, he wormed the other between them so he could stroke her breasts and belly. She felt like heaven under his work-rough fingers, and she squirmed at the touch, shifting her mound against his sex.

  The stimulation proved almost more than Colin could bear. He hovered already on the brink of release, but he knew climaxing against Daisy's belly would satisfy neither of them. She wants the reassurance of intercourse, and at this point, so do I.

  He slipped lower, between her parted thighs, and cupped her sex. Two fingers slipped between the outer lips, and he sighed with relief at the wet heat between. He dipped briefly into her well and found her ready. Good. I have no time to sweeten this furth
er.

  Daisy, it seemed, also had no patience. She boldly grasped his erection, trying to line it up.

  “Now, love?” he asked.

  She responded with a sour look that forced a rusty chuckle from his chest.

  He left off caressing her sex and grasped her hand, showing her how to guide him. Together, undone by mutual need, they positioned him, feeding the tip of his penis into her. Her hand fell away, reaching up to rest on the center of his back as he arched his hips, easing further and further into her. Her passage fluttered and she let out a low moan, clutching him tight.

  Colin's slow advance into Daisy's fullest depth almost set off his orgasm. I have no time to bring her to climax, he realized. Not unless I do something to help her. His hand still rested near her, and he sat back a bit, not breaking their intimate connection, but giving himself some space.

  Holding his hips as still as he could, unable to bear the stimulation of thrusting, he delved again into her intimate folds in search of her swollen pearl. It pulsed under his finger, and he gave her what she needed, spurred on by the pleasured squeaks he drew from her.

  Her hips shifted restlessly as he aroused her. He growled and bit down hard on his lip to prevent himself from spilling. You first, Lady Gelroy, he thought, as he rubbed her.

  “Oh, Colin. Oh, Lord. Aaaaaah!” A flutter accompanied Daisy's wail of pleasure, letting Colin know that he could, at last, move.

  Bracing both hands on the floor, covering her body fully again, he drew back and surged deep into her, claiming every inch of her convulsing sex for his own. “Mine,” he snarled, still fighting the rising orgasm so he could enjoy the only moment that remained.

  Colin looked down into Daisy's face, saw her lost in passion, eyes closed, mouth open, emitting helpless gasps of pleasure. He drew back and thrust home once more, and his own lids slid closed against a shower of sparks. Home, he thought. Pausing at the moment of deepest penetration, he shuddered in sweet release.

  * * *

  Back at the window outside the small remnant of what had once been a grand home, the watcher shuddered in revulsion. Filthy pigs. Look how they rut… on the floor.

  Lord Gelroy shifted, and the watcher ducked out of sight… for a moment, before cautiously peeking over the sill again in time to see the couple's mouths meet in a fiery kiss.

  Disgusting. This will not go unpunished.

  Drawing reluctantly away, he again retreated into the darkness.

  * * *

  The fluttering in Daisy's core finally died away, bringing her back into the reality of the hard floor beneath her back. Her husband lay on her, his body heavy with muscles. His sex still lingered inside her, though its tempting rigidity was rapidly waning.

  He leaned in, his brown eyes soft, and laid a tender kiss on Daisy's lips before levering himself upright. Shaking his head, he retrieved his drawers and looked at them without putting them on.

  “What?” Daisy asked, rolling onto one hip to face him and lifting herself onto her elbow.

  “Was this really necessary?” he asked.

  Oh, Lord. Not this again. Not now. Angry that he was again questioning the beauty of their undeniable connection, Daisy snapped. “Yes, it was. Why can't you just admit, Colin, that we're meant for each other? We're married, in case you've forgotten, and it's about time we acted like it.”

  “Wait. Daisy, hold on.” He held up his hand, underpants dangling. “I didn't mean that. I… when I saw you so upset, I knew. I knew I couldn't… hold back anymore. I agree. It was past time we began to live as a married couple. For some reason, you want to stay in this pit of hell? Fine, stay. I won't fight you anymore. I can't. What I meant is, we have two beds. Why on earth did we need to make love on the kitchen floor?” He snorted. “It's absurd.”

  “I thought of retiring,” Daisy admitted, “but I was afraid that if you lost momentum, you'd change your mind again. I didn't want that.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, in that case.” He extended a hand and she let him draw her upright. He tucked her into a warm embrace, where she could feel his chest shaking.

  “Colin?”

  Another snort escaped. Then a low chuckle.

  “Colin, are you laughing?”

  “So it would seem.” His eyes twinkled with mirth, even as he shook again, muttering, “Kitchen floor,” under his breath.

  “Well, I'm glad you're amused,” she said, a bit of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

  “I am, Daisy. Ah, love. You're so good for me. I don't know why you're so determined to waste your time, energy and money on an old relic like me, but… I can't resist you.”

  “Oh, Colin.” Even now, his haunted vulnerability shone through his humor and touched something deep in Daisy's heart. “You're a good man in a rough spot. Nothing more. And you're mine. My husband. My man. What more reason do I need than that? Do you think I'm some venal, brainless twit?”

  “No, clearly not.” He cleared his throat, though a hint of a grin lingered around the corners of his lips. “Um, I see you were taking a bath, but your hair is dry. Did you not get a chance to finish?”

  “No, I didn't. I had no sooner gotten in than… are you sure he's gone? That was terrifying.”

  “He's gone. Peepers generally don't continue once they've been caught. I doubt he'll be back.”

  “I hope not. He's got some kind of fixation with rocks that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I noticed,” Colin said. “Listen, once it's light, I'll round up the men and scour the woods. If he's loitering on my estate, we'll send him packing.”

  “Good idea,” Daisy replied. “Our Midsummer festival is tomorrow night. I would hate to have some… some creeping bastard tossing rocks at the children. They've suffered enough.”

  “I agree with that,” Colin said, not reacting to her harsh word choice. “So, now that we have a plan settled, you should get into your bath. You need it now more than you did before.” He smirked at her.

  Daisy's cheeks and neck suddenly felt warm, but she nodded. “What about you, love?”

  “Oh, I'll use the water when you're done.”

  Daisy frowned. “It'll be stone cold by then. Come on, Colin. Let's not withdraw from this moment. We're newlyweds. Come with me.”

  “Sure we'll both fit?” he asked, eyeing the copper structure doubtfully.

  “We'll have to get close,” she replied, shifting her hips.

  Colin regarded her for a long, quiet moment. “Very well,” he agreed.

  She took his hand and led him to the tub. “You're bigger. Get situated and I'll find my spot.”

  Colin climbed into the tub and sighed. His body went limp. “Aaaaaah.”

  “Good?” she asked.

  “Hmmmm,” he replied.

  “I hope you don't mind the girly-smelling soap my sister gifted me. I have no interest in tiptoeing into the dark house alone to retrieve a more neutral one. I'm still a bit shaken.”

  “If you don't mind the men knowing our business come morning. They'll assume any womanly smells rubbed off in bed.”

  Daisy shrugged. “They're no different. They all have or have had wives.”

  Another grin tugged at the corners of Colin's lips as he helped Daisy into the compact space of the bathtub. It was a tight fit, and she had to adjust her position several times before she could get comfortable, but she managed in the end. Colin reached beside the tub to the pile of supplies she'd accumulated and retrieved a small cup, which he dipped into the water and began wetting the long, golden strands of Daisy's hair.

  “I'm still confused,” he admitted as he prepared her hair for washing, “why you would call this place 'home.' It's a nightmare living here.”

  “I understand you feel that way,” Daisy admitted, “and I completely understand why. That's been your reality for decades. However, I don't have that feeling. Yes, the estate was rough when I got here, but Colin, take a step back from your memories and look objectively at what you have here. I see a humble but sufficient farm, f
illed with healthy, happy animals and people, where everyone has enough. It's filled with opportunity. We'll never be rich, but who ever said I wanted that? It's not a pit of hell. It's a perfectly adequate home. The ruins are gone. Only useful spaces remain.”

  He lowered his eyebrows, not in anger, but in contemplation. Daisy retrieved her soap and began working up a lather between her hands while she let him think in silence.

  “I can see how you would feel that way,” he said at last. “Without a long history in this place, someone with humble expectations might find our little farm… good enough.”

  Daisy grinned and began rubbing her soapy hands on Colin's chest.

  He claimed the soap and lathered up as well, rubbing the sweet-smelling bubbles into her hair. She closed her eyes at the pleasurable sensation. Connected by touch, but without the intensity of sight, Daisy posed another question. “Will you be joining me in bed then?”

  Colin didn't answer quickly. He grabbed the cup and began rinsing Daisy's hair.

  Let him think, she reminded herself. He thinks slowly. It's his way. It doesn't mean anything against you.

  “It's a flattering offer,” he said at last. “Are you sure that's what you want to do? It's not typical among the nobility, which you are, now.”

  The swish of water around Daisy's head stopped, and she opened her eyes, seeing Colin's unguarded expression. He's asking a genuine question. He's not trying to put you off. “I may have accidentally joined the exalted ranks, but when have I ever acted like this mattered to me?”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Um, all the time, Daisy. You strode right onto the estate and took charge like you were born to be a lady.”

  “The lady of the house only, Colin. I still cook dinner myself, dust the furnishings with my own two hands, wash dishes—I have the callouses to prove it—and I still swear a bit and fully intend to celebrate the Pagan rituals whether anyone likes it or not.”

  “You're more a noblewoman than you realize,” he said, curling his lip into that appealing half-grin she'd just discovered. He lathered his hands again and began to wash his hair. “Those are exactly the kinds of things any 'I don't give a damn' upper-class woman would insist on… well, maybe not the chores, though I know a couple who bake as a hobby and force their guests to eat it, whether it turns out or not. But your unapologetic eccentricity is right in line. It's middle-class women who worry about the propriety of everyday things.”