by Tarah Scott
“You do not seem unhappy,” she said.
“One could say I’m not unhappy,” he replied, and walked with her the rest of the way in silence.
*****
Lord Rushton had been wrong to warn her about the party and his relatives. Eve was charmed by each and every one of them, even the brother who had barged in on her and Grace on the ship. The warm welcome included orders to whip Lord Rushton should he misbehave—Eve knew all too well what they meant by misbehave—and downright coarse suggestions on how to make the most of their wedding celebration once alone in his bed. Through it all, in the back of Eve’s head echoed the words, “I wondered who would catch him.”
The marchioness and his sister had kept Eve so busy that she’d had no time alone with the earl. She wondered if he was getting as many lurid suggestions as she was. Lord, he didn’t need any help seducing her. Though the way he’d been acting since their marriage had become official made her wonder if he intended to.
“Oh dear,” Olivia’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Surely Marshall is not headed into the hallway with Hilary?”
Eve followed her gaze across the ballroom and spotted Hilary leaving with a young man. “Does not that hallway lead to the sitting room?” Eve asked.
“It does, but if you go beyond the sitting room, you can very quickly find privacy. In fact, they need not find a room to have privacy. There are private alcoves throughout the corridors.”
Eve certainly understood the dangers of a woman alone with a man in an alcove. “Would the young man take advantage of her?”
“Marshall is a good boy,” Olivia said, “but he fancies himself in love with her, and Hilary is already too accustomed to male attention.”
Olivia’s gaze shifted. Her eyes widened and she blurted, “Goodness.”
“What is it?” Eve demanded, then saw for herself what had startled her. Lord Rushton—her husband—was entering the ballroom from the balcony with a very beautiful woman on his arm.
Eve’s heart jumped to a gallop. Married less than a day—he had yet to consummate the marriage---and already he was fraternizing with other women?
“It isn’t what it looks like,” Olivia said. “Erroll and Rebecca are childhood friends. I am certain they were just visiting.”
Eve had the distinct impression Olivia was using the word ‘friends’ loosely.
Lord Rushton abruptly left the lady and hurried through the crowd. Eve couldn’t tear her eyes from him. He moved with lethal grace. She was reminded of a panther stalking the Serengeti. He entered the hallway where Eve realized Hilary had disappeared with the young man.
“Oh dear,” Olivia fretted. “I believe he saw Hilary with Marshall. I wish Angela were here. If Rush finds Hilary misbehaving he’ll take her over his knee without hesitation.”
And heaven help the boy if the panther catches him.
“Perhaps I had better go see if there is any mischief.” Olivia looked at her. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“I think I prefer to accompany you.”
“Eve, there is no need—”
“You shall not talk me out of it,” Eve cut in. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Olivia hesitated, but didn’t argue, and they made their way through the crowd as quickly as was possible. They finally reached the sitting room, but found neither Lord Rushton nor Hilary, and Eve followed Olivia into the hallway.
“I don’t hear any screams,” Eve said when they’d gone a little ways.
“Rush might have bound and gagged her.”
“Is he predisposed to tying women up and beating them?”
“There’s no telling what a man is capable of when he thinks a woman is acting improperly.”
Eve made no comment.
They turned a corner and muffled voices sounded from a room ahead. Olivia hurried forward. They reached the room and, without knocking, Olivia opened the door. Lord Rushton stood with Hilary and the young man.
The earl turned. “Olivia, Eve. Good, perhaps you two can talk sense into this girl.” He glanced at the young man. “I will deal with Marshall.”
“I can’t believe you are taking me to task,” Hilary said.
“I swear, I will send you to a convent,” he said.
Eve recalled her father making that same threat to Grace.
“You aren’t my guardian,” Hilary shot back.
“Do not doubt that your mother will obey me,” he said. “If your brother were here he would marry you off to the first man foolish enough to have you. That is exactly what I should do—and Davis will thank me when he returns.”
“I am no more ready to marry than you are, Rush.”
His expression turned stony. “You forget yourself, Lady Hilary.”
She sent a startled glance Eve’s way, then ire flashed in her eyes as she said in a petulant voice, “I did not mean any insult to your wife, but I wager she knows the truth.”
“But you know nothing,” he snapped. “Marshall, take yourself from Ravenhall. If you wish to pay your addresses to Lady Hilary, you will see me or my father—but not until you are at least five years older. By God, you are all of nineteen.”
“Twenty, my lord.”
“As if that is any better,” he muttered.
Marshall drew himself up. “I will see you at dawn, my lord.”
“Do not flatter yourself. I won’t shoot you. But I will beat you senseless should you again allow Hilary to bamboozle you into being more than five feet distance from a chaperone.”
“I understand.”
“I doubt that,” the earl said, but waved him off. “Pay your respects to my wife and sister, then go home.”
The young man murmured congratulations to Eve, bowed to Olivia, then left.
The door had barely clicked shut when Hilary said, “It isn’t as if I let him make love to me.”
“That would have gotten you two married,” Lord Rushton snapped. “Have you no shame? He is a good man. You were wrong to toy with him.”
“You toy with women all the time.”
Disapproval flashed in his eyes. “I wonder how you might hear of such things.”
“Do not be so tiresome,” she said. “Mull may not be Edinburgh, but your exploits reach us on a daily basis.”
“I wager by the time gossip reaches Mull there is little if any truth left—and I am sure you exaggerate.”
She eyed Eve and Eve saw the wheels turning in the girl’s head. Olivia must have seen it as well, for she said, “Hilary, stop being a brat.”
“Perhaps Lady Hilary would like to repeat the gossip she’s heard?” Eve said.
“Eve, I think—”
“There is no reason to avoid it,” Eve cut him off. “I happen to agree. Gossip seldom resembles the truth. Gossip that might spring up tonight, even.”
Lord Rushton’s brow furrowed, then she read understanding in his eyes.
“You of all people know how gossip laughs in the face of truth,” he said.
Eve canted her head in acknowledgement. “Lady Hilary is your family, so there’s no reason she cannot know the truth.” Eve looked at her before Lord Rushton could reply. “What did you hear?”
The girl cast the earl a skeptical look, but he remained quiet and she said, “We heard that Rush first compromised your sister.”
“That part,” Eve said, “is absolutely untrue.”
The girl seemed unconvinced, but went on. “Then we heard he was caught in bed with you in your room.”
“True,” Eve said, “but he was not there to make love to me. Quite the contrary, he had come to my bedchamber to find out why he’d been falsely accused of compromising Grace. It was a bad move on his part, but nothing happened. What else?”
“You went to Gretna with another man.”
“That is all?”
“The details are sordid,” Hilary said.
“They always are. The fact is, Lord Halifax abducted me and Lord Rushton came to my rescue.” A strange feeling r
ippled through Eve.
Hilary’s brows rose. “Rush rescued you?”
“He did.”
“Then you were on an unchaperoned voyage together.”
“My coachman Oscar was there, as was Grace, and Lord Somerset. We were far from alone.”
“Sounds highly irregular,” Hilary said.
“It was, but still, the rumor implies we were living in sin.” They had come close, if Eve were honest.
“Well, then you came here and were married,” Hilary said. “Though you had an irregular marriage.”
“Why not?” Eve laughed. “It was an irregular courtship.”
“Courtship?” Lord Rushton said.
Eve looked at him. “Am I incorrect, my lord?”
Humor warmed his eyes. “I would say you are absolutely correct.”
Eve knew full well she was correct, but had no idea what that meant.
Eve had never been so tired in all her life. The festivities had continued until three in the morning. Apparently anyone who was anyone wanted to say they had attended the marquess’ son’s wedding party. Despite the fact the party had been her wedding celebration, she’d enjoyed herself more than any party she had ever attended in London, until, that was, she’d realized that tonight had been a glimpse into the future.
Other than their meeting upon her arrival and their time with Hilary, she and Lord Rushton had barely spoken to one another. Eve had glimpsed him throughout the night, laughing, drinking, and even escorting ladies onto the dance floor. And then there was the lady he’d spent time with on the balcony.
Eve sank down on the bed. She had no chance of winning in this situation. Lord Rushton was his father’s son. The marquess had shown the utmost respect for his wife, but they had spent no more time together than had she and the earl, and Eve would wager the marquess kept a mistress. After all, he had kept a mistress who had born him two children: Ash and Olivia. Their mother was long dead, but it was well known that the marquess had loved her. What would Eve do when Lord Rushton finally fell in love with another woman? For he would—despite his best efforts. Everyone fell in love.
Eve couldn’t find it in herself to cry. He had practically made love to her while their families waited, then told her he had no intention of living the life of a saint.
She didn’t bother removing her gown, but crawled to the head of the bed and curled up on top of the blanket. What would the marquess and marchioness of Rushton think of their son’s wife staying at Ravenhall?
*****
Erroll stared down at his wife, half aroused at the sight of her curled up on her side, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. The fire had dimmed and he’d tossed more logs into the hearth. The room would soon grow warm, but she might have already taken a chill. He knew just how to remedy that. By the time Erroll undressed and slipped beneath the blanket beside her he’d developed a cockstand that wasn’t going to be put off for long. He turned on his side and propped his head on an elbow, then traced her cheek with a finger. She drew in a deep breath that lifted her breasts. His eyes riveted onto the slow fall of the full mounds.
She abruptly bolted upright. “My lord! What are you doing here?”
He rolled onto his back and jammed his hands behind his head. “Visiting my wife.”
“You choose tonight to notice that I am your wife?”
“I noticed the instant my father announced we were man and wife, and have thought of nothing else since. The room is chilly, love. Come under the covers with me.”
“I cannot go to bed in my gown.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said.
Her cheeks reddened. “Really, sir, why did you pick tonight to avail yourself of your husbandly rights?”
“Because I have had enough of the torture.”
“Don’t you think that is a bit dramatic?”
He didn’t—and his cock was agreeing in its most demanding tone—and he said so. “Will you come to bed, Eve?”
She hesitated, then Erroll repressed a smile when she crawled beneath the covers in her gown. He slid an arm beneath her and tugged her against him. He felt the tension in her body and pulled her arm across his chest, then wrapped his arms around her. Her rose-scented shampoo tickled his senses.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” he asked.
It seemed she hesitated for the barest of instants, then said, “Yes, I like your family,” and he decided he’d misread her.
“So do I,” he said.
“Then you are very lucky.”
“You don’t like your family?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
The warmth of her flattened hand on his chest began to distract him and he wondered what it would be like if she slid the hand lower.
“You were very busy the duration of the evening,” she said.
“That is a hazard when my mother throws a party. She is a stickler that her sons help ensure the guests are entertained.” Erroll began drawing lazy circles on her arm with his fingers. He felt her shiver and his cock jerked.
“So your mother keeps you busy during her parties?” Eve asked.
“I haven’t seen many of the guests since I left for the navy.”
“I imagine they missed you.”
He shrugged. “They seemed pleased to see me, though I imagine they were much more interested in getting a look at the woman I married.”
“The woman you were forced to marry.”
“There is no doubt the circumstances of our marriage intrigues them.”
“Of course.”
Erroll detected something in her voice. “Did someone say anything out of the way, Eve?”
“Oh no. Not a single guest was rude.”
“No snide remarks like those you heard from Ladies Quincy and Greenwood?”
She shoved up onto her elbow. “How do you know about that?”
“Gossip travels quickly.”
Something flickered in her eyes, and Erroll realized that she must have made the connection between him and her encounter with Paisley at the party in Manchester. “Lord Paisley and I attended university together,” he said.
She groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “It seems you have eyes everywhere, my lord.”
Erroll pulled her across his chest and settled the blanket back over them. This time, she relaxed against him without reserve. He covered her hand with his and began sliding her hand downward.
She abruptly stiffened. “Sir—”
“Trust me,” he said, and gently urged her hand down.
When her hand touched his thickened cock, she jerked—so did his cock—but she didn’t resist and Erroll wrapped her fingers around him.
“Oh my,” she said in a breathless voice. “You are rather large.”
Erroll gave a strangled laugh and feared he would come that instant. He gritted his teeth against the compelling need and closed his hand tight around hers as he thrust. She squeezed and he hissed a breath.
“Careful, madam. I am likely to forget myself.”
“Idle threats,” she said.
“I never make idle threats.”
She squeezed again and he groaned.
“You are, in fact, in great peril.” Or was it he who was in danger? Danger of losing his heart…and perhaps his soul?
He pushed her back onto the mattress and brushed his lips against hers, then traced her mouth with his tongue. She opened on a sigh that made him feel as if she’d been waiting for him all her life. He reveled for a long moment in the taste of her, then broke the kiss and rose onto his knees. He pulled her skirt up to the creamy flesh of her thigh, then tugged it over her hip to her belly. She started to cross her legs, but he grasped her thighs.
“No, love. It’s all right. Let me look.”
He drank in the sight of the dark curls between her legs…then swallowed. The curls already glistened with desire. He flattened his palms on her belly and shimmied the dress upward. She lifted her buttocks to free the fabric, then raised her hand
s above her head as he tugged the dress over her breasts and off her arms.
He’d never seen breasts so beautiful, full, creamy, and tipped with an areole so rosy it made a man want to weep. “You are beautiful,” he murmured.
“Pretty words, my lord?”
“They aren’t pretty words when they are true.”
She shivered. “I am liable to catch my cold.”
“As long as I am in your bed, you will never want for warmth.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, and he recalled her fear that he would abandoned his wife in favor of other women. That assessment hadn’t been completely wrong. Erroll understood discretion, but hadn’t planned on giving up other women entirely. But staring down at her now, he couldn’t recall the face of even one of the women he had planned to one day bed. He bent and flicked his tongue against the peak of one perfect bud.
Erroll ringed the nipple with his tongue, and her breasts lifted with the intake of a slow breath. He felt himself further harden with surprising intensity, and lifted his mouth from her breast, then lowered himself onto her. First the rigid peaks of her nipples tickled his chest, then followed the warmth of her flat stomach against his belly. Erroll thought he would lose his mind when his cock lay nestled within her moist curls.
He kissed her slow, deep, and with a restraint that had never been tested to such limits. She sighed, her body relaxed beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and shock reverberated from her fingertips to his erection. He allowed himself one slow thrust of his member against her mound. One only, he warned, for two would send him over the edge. Her breath caught.
Erroll shifted and whispered in her hear. “You like that, love?” He’d allowed only one thrust, but if she liked it…he thrust again, and she drew in another breath. “Tell me you like that,” he urged.
“I like that.”
Her voice was rough with desire.
“Then I will oblige,” he said. And he would, even if it killed him.
He slipped a knee between her legs and urged them apart. For an instant she tensed, then allowed him to settle between her thighs. Erroll lifted his hips and skimmed the outer edged of her folds.
“Oh my,” she said on a stuttered breath.
Erroll reached down and slid a finger into—God, he wouldn’t last long—her wet heat and, with thumb and forefinger, separated the flesh and fitted his cock between her folds. He removed his hand and the swollen flesh molded around the sides of his erection. Her eyes widened and he pushed his cock through the dewy heat and along her sex until his bullocks contacted the back of her arse.
