by Fiona Faris
“That feels nice,” she whispered.
“I’m glad ye’re enjoying it as much as I am.”
He made a gentle path of bite-marks from the curve of her neck to the round of her shoulder, as she picked up a biscuit and dipped it in the cream. She took a bite chewed slowly, then offered him a bite over her shoulder. He leaned in and bit off a generous chunk, chewing as his thumbs rubbed slow, confident circles over her nipples.
“Oh my lands, Ethan, this is so good.”
“Oh aye,” his lips close to her ear. “Ye like that, mo chridhe? I do, too. Yer tits are so-”
“No,” she said, gently bopping him on the head with the biscuit. “This…The biscuits dipped in cream. This is so good.”
He groaned and cupped the undersides of her breasts, thumbnails tracing her areolas. “Ye’re telling me ye dinna like this at all… not one bit?”
She kept eating and shook her head obstinately. “You know what would go good with this?” she said, gasping with excitement before turning around.
He took advantage of her new position and slipped his hands lower, taking two firm handfuls and squeezing, fingertips digging into her cheeks.
“What?”
“Sangria,” she whispered theatrically.
* * *
Getting drunk with her husband on the last night of their honeymoon might have seemed like a good idea at the time, but Georgiana was paying for it now. She lay miserably in bed, contemplating how miserable she felt. She knew why she had so eagerly jumped in to drink the liquor.
It was guilt.
She felt guilty for what she’d done, writing that letter to her father without informing Ethan. She knew it was a mistake but now that it was done, she was too afraid to rectify it. What if he got so angry at her that he left?
A soft knock had her sitting up fearfully in bed. “Who is it?”
“It’s Misty milady. Your husband sent me to see to you?”
Georgiana groaned, flopping back on the pillows. “Come in then.”
Misty came in, biting her lip to hide a smile.
“Don’t you laugh at me.” Georgiana wagged an index finger at her lady’s maid.
“I am not, my lady.” The dimples winked in and out of Misty’s cheeks as she tried to control her expression. Georgiana groaned. “I feel so miserable.”
Misty hurried to the jug of water on the bedside table and poured her a glass. “I have this concoction my mother swore by if you’d like me to make it for you. She always said it cured my father of what ailed him when he’d had a little too much to drink.”
“I don’t know if I could keep anything foul smelling down. Is it a sweet concoction?”
Misty shook her head slowly, still trying not to laugh.
“Then, I think I shall pass, thanks.” Georgiana curled up between the blankets, wondering why Ethan wasn’t sharing her misery. He had drunk just as much as she did.
“Alright then, I am here to help you with anything you need. Shall we start with a cool cloth on your forehead?”
“Yes, please,” Georgiana replied miserably.
* * *
Lachie watched the shores of Scotland drift away from them as the ship set sail for England. He swallowed, feeling some trepidation for what was to come. He was to be married to an Englishwoman, one who probably had so many airs and expectations.
As the shoreline disappeared, he made his way down to the quarters he was sharing with his father. The old man was laid out on the bed, snoring gently. Lachie snorted as he pulled off his boots, shooting contemptuous glances at his father. The three-day trip on horseback had taken its toll on him. Lachie realized for the first time that his father was getting old.
Soon, he would take over as laird, and nobody would be able to tell him what to do, ever again.
He sat down on his bunker with a sigh and then decided to copy his father’s example and get some rest. It was not as if there was anything else to do on the ship.
They docked in London three days later, shaking the captain’s hand and disembarking just after dawn. The town was just beginning to come alive. Mudlarks burrowed around the docks, scavenging for whatever, loaders called to each other as they climbed up and down gangways with their burdens. The Buchanans ignored it all, heading towards the nearest mews to rent some horses.
“Will we ride straight to Bellingwick?” Lachie asked.
His father sighed. “We should. But we must present ourselves properly, which means finding a coach, and a driver, having our clothes laundered and our wits about us. We best do all that in London before heading out to the countryside.”
“Good idea. But first, let us find an inn and have some breakfast.”
They rented two fast horses before heading towards Cheapside, where they could not only find a rooming house to rent but also taverns for breakfast and several establishments where they could have their clothes laundered.
They first booked in at the rooming house, stowing their luggage before making their way to a tavern to eat. Many of the bachelors who lived in the area also utilized the taverns for meals and so the place was quite full.
Lachie and his father found an empty bench and took their seats, looking around warily. The serving girl brought them some ale and took their orders for food, and they sat quietly as they waited.
“You’re a long way from home,” a tall man had walked up to their table, unnoticed.
“How d’ye ken tha’?” Barclay asked, narrowing his eyes at the man.
He shrugged. “I keep my ear to the ground…and I recognize that tartan. You’re Buchanans, aren’t you?”
“What’s it to ye?” Lachie asked morosely.
The man took a seat. “What brings you to London? Could it be a certain betrothal I heard about?”
Barclay surveyed him suspiciously, “I dinna catch yer name. what did ye say it was?”
The man grinned like a shark. “I actually didn’t.”
Barclay turned to face him, looking as menacing as he could. “Weel then, sir. What right d’ye have to inquire aboot what our business is?”
The man shrugged. “I simply thought I might be of help to you.”
“In what way?”
“First, answer the question. “You’re here for the Bellingwick girl, aren’t you?”
“And I’ll ask again, what’s it to ye?”
“My name is Viscount Ashness, and I am the reason Lady Georgiana needs a groom in the first place…you’re welcome.”
Chapter Thirteen
Fergus came up to Ethan as he leaned against the ship’s foredeck, staring out to sea.
“Now what?” he asked.
“What d’ye mean?”
“I mean we’re going hame to Scotland. Ye’re faither, and brother will ken for sure what happened. What will ye do?”
Ethan sighed. “I already did what I was going tae dae.”
“And that is what?” Fergus persisted.
Ethan turned to look him in the eye. “I bought their mortgage. Tis my bargaining chip. The laird and his son could cause me a fair wee trauchle if they choose. I wish tae forestall that.”
“Ye’ll blackmail them then?” Fergus slapped his back, beaming proudly. “Ye’re more devious than I imagined, ye wee Scotsman.”
Ethan snorted. “I hear it’s in the blood.”
Fergus slung his arm over Ethan’s shoulder. “So ye blackmail yer family into leaving ye and the Mrs. alone, and then what? Shall ye be farmers or simply sit around spendin’ her money and lording it over the laird?”
Ethan laughed. “I canna even imagine doing that. Nay, I shall find something tae dae. The duke has got us a manor house, and I ken that the village and the crofters need some things. I wish to help.”
“Help?” Fergus gave a wry grimace, “Ye’ve married an heiress an’ all ye can think of is helping?”
“Aye.” Ethan looked at Fergus with a shrug. “I dinna marry her for her money.”
“No, ye didn’t.” Fergus gave him a
fond smile, “Not ye. Ye’re too much of a gen’lman.”
Ethan snorted. “I’m no gen’lman.”
Fergus gave him a look. “Just because ye were born on the wrong side of the bed, doesna mean ye’re no gen’lman.”
Ethan merely kept his own council, looking out into the sea.
* * *
“What d’ye mean ye’re responsible for Lady Georgiana needing a husband? Are ye the one that defiled her?” Lachie asked.
Viscount Ashness looked askance at him, “What do you think I mean?”
Lachie and his father stared at him. “What d’ye want wi’ us?”
“Well…I can make it worth your while if you get back on the next ship and go back to Scotland.”
“Why?” Barclay said.
“Can ye match her dowry?” Lachie asked at the same time.
Viscount Ashness looked from one to the other. “I owe the duke of Bellingwick a little revenge. Having his only child disgraced is just the tip of the iceberg. I intend to destroy him.”
“And why should we care?” Lachie asked.
“I don’t believe you really want to marry this lady. So, how can I make you turn around and go home?”
They both stared stonily at him.
He sighed, reaching into his pocket and dropping a card on the table. “Should you change your mind, you can find me at that address.”
* * *
They rented a horse and carriage at Edinburgh to take them to Daltern, where they were to meet the duke’s agent who would show them to their new home. Georgiana was very quiet, looking out the window pensively.
“Are ye alright?” Ethan asked.
Georgiana’s head whipped around to face him, “Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Ye seem lost.”
“I’m not. I am simply…thinking.”
“Wha’ aboot?”
“This new life we are starting. It’s a little daunting.”
“For me too.”
Their eyes met and held.
* * *
They stayed at the King’s Head Inn on the first night of their journey, having made better progress than Ethan had expected, never having used a carriage for travel on this route. It made him think that they might even take less time than he had anticipated arriving at their new home.
The innkeeper, of course, did not recognize him even as he inquired with a frown. “Buchanan ye say? So ye’re kin to the laird of Daltern? Be ye going that way? He isna to hame.”
“Aye, well, we be going that way but not to see him,” Ethan replied.
“Oh, aye? Are ye from around these parts? I dinna ken ye.”
Ethan shrugged. “Ye wouldna.”
He didn’t say much else even though he could see that the innkeeper was curious. The news that his father was not in residence was more disconcerting. Had they already left for Bellingwick? He had thought that he had until the spring before Georgiana’s parents discovered his lies. He looked to his wife as she washed her face and hands in the washbasin.
Will they take her from me? He wondered with trepidation. I need to get her with child.
If he did that, there was no way that she could be claimed by another man. Not with their marriage and a baby on the way. He walked over to her, snaking a hand around her waist.
“Mmm,” he said, “Ye smell heavenly.”
She snorted. “I smell of road dust and sweat.”
“Ah, is that what that is? Ye could bottle it and make a fortune.”
That made Georgiana giggle. “You’re such an idiot.”
“But ye love me just the same.”
She shook her hands to dislodge the water before turning. “Yes, I certainly do. Thank you for taking the chance and telling me the truth about you.”
“Nay. Thank ye for taking pity on me and my stupid plan and making it happen.”
Georgiana laughed. “Yes, it was rather silly. Not really well thought out.”
Ethan raised his hands in surrender, “Ye shallna get any argument from me.”
Georgiana pulled him back in, snaking her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you did it anyway, because if not, we would not have met.”
Ethan laughed. “Aye, and I would be toiling my way to the New World and the possibility of being eaten alive by natives.”
She wrinkled her nose prettily. “I don’t think that they actually do that. It sounds like an Old Wives’ Tale to me.”
“Mmm, to me too. Perhaps we shall go and visit one day, and see for ourselves.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know how I feel about being on a ship for that length of time…”
Ethan laughed. “Aye. It might not be very comfortable. Now, are ye hungry?”
Georgiana shrugged. “I could eat.”
“Weel then, let us go and partake of a meal.”
* * *
Erik Phil Geary had always considered himself a posh man, equipped with enough charm and wit to start a whole religion if he wanted.
Both had served him well since he was a wee lad, performing tricks on the roadside to survive. He had excellent breeding from his good-for-nothing parents, which helped in his rackets in addition to bestowing him with a handsome face, a smooth complexion, flowing golden locks, bright green eyes, and a muscular frame.
All proved beneficial in the success of his game.
For decades, he had played the crook’s ladder game, going from being an amuser, to highway robbery, to cutting the biggest shams in the land. Erik could have swindled the kingdom from the king himself, given half a chance.
But a snake’s tongue was not his only weapon. He had plenty of practice with the physical kind if his words failed.
With such talents at his disposal, his pockets were bursting, and he lived a lavish life filled with plenty of women.
Dressed in a noble’s garb and armed with an irresistible grin, the women would flock to him. Whether it was for his wealth or for his good looks, it didn’t matter. Erik always got what he wanted without any attachments.
Until he didn’t.
One reason for his downward spiral was his drop in self-esteem following the accident that resulted in an ugly-looking burn that marred the side of his face, beginning at the base of his jaw, spreading across his mouth, and culminating around his nose. The diminishing of his good looks had not been good for business.
And so here he was, brought to this lowly state where he started out. Sitting at the bar of an inn with a room he could barely afford, trying to drown his sorrows.
He had a ruined mien, no money, no possessions, no home . . . and no women. That last part was really starting to become a bother for him.
He had not bedded a woman since the night before his face was scarred. His empty pockets and now, less-than-impressive, dirty appearance meant that even the light skirts kept away.
Nearly a year with the absence of beautiful women around him was far too long for a passionate man such as himself. It had come to the point where he was feeling uncomfortably itchy. The glass of ale he was drinking definitely did not help calm him down.
If he wanted to, he could possibly rustle up enough blunt for a bit of muslin, but the thought of it, even in his bosky state, left a bad taste in his mouth. Years of living the high life had made sure that he would only have a taste for the most delicious and freshest of fruits.
No . . . he would not drop his standards now.
Fortunately, he did not have to for across the room sat an exquisitely fine woman, a diamond of the first water. A vision of loveliness seated at a table against the wall to his right, eating dinner, while wisps of her chestnut hair peeked from her cap, her amber, traveling dress hugging her bosom quite snugly.
The gentle smile on her youthful face seemed to shine, bathing her in invisible, holy light. Erik could feel his temperature rising from merely glancing at her from across the room.
Seated across from her was her companion… however, his attention was barely on the man she was talking to. His eyes were all
for the girl.
Why a vision like her was traveling with a boy was beyond him. That mushroom would never be able to provide her with the absolute pleasure that a real man could give her.
