Marriage with a Proper Stranger

by Karyn Gerrard

  The tears came. Sabrina could not stop them. Mary held her close, rocking her, humming a quiet tune.

  As a loving mother would.

  * * * *

  For two days, Riordan admonished himself for his curt reply at supper. Sabrina asking about his salary had caught him unawares. And in front of Mary. Forty-six pounds was mere pocket change to him. The truth of it was, most people got by on much less. A farmer or laborer would be lucky to earn nineteen pounds per annum.

  Referring to himself as a “middle class lad” wasn’t a complete lie, for he was such at this point in his life, since he lived within the means of his teaching salary. The more intimacies he and Sabrina shared, the more questions she would ask. Riordan could keep his distance, but after observing her come apart in his arms, he could no more stay away from her than not draw his next breath.

  They sat at supper, barely speaking. Riordan pushed the sausage about on his plate, for he had little appetite tonight.

  “The pork sausage not to your liking?” Sabrina asked.

  He looked up. “No, it’s tasty enough.” He cut a piece, placed it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  “I…I asked Mary not to come tonight,” she stated shyly.

  He stopped cutting the meat. His heart slammed against his ribs. “You wish to continue with…”

  “Making love? Yes, I do.” She paused. “Are we moving too quickly? Am I being too bold?”

  “Please, be bold,” he croaked.

  “In your best, sensual, schoolmaster voice, explain what you’re going to do to me. And with me.” Her eyelashes batted coquettishly and he grew hard.

  Damn, he did like it when she acted audacious; he would as well. Placing his utensils across his plate, he gave her his full attention. “We will remove every last piece of clothing from each other. Touch and caress, lie on the bed, and continue to explore. Taste, kiss, lick every inch of skin. Then I will prepare you.”

  Sabrina smiled. “Prepare…how?”

  “As I did last night. Suckle your luscious breasts, stroke your folds until you’re soaking. Next I will grasp my…” God, he was aroused beyond all imaging. Hard as oak. Sabrina’s lips parted, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing came in short bursts the same as his. His emotions were raw, exposed. As will his words be. “Grasp my cock, place it at your heated center, stretch you wide, fill you….” Swiftly vaulting from his chair, it fell to the floor. Scooping her up in his arms, he marched the few steps to the bedroom.

  “Enough talk,” he growled. He’d planned to bring her along slowly—those plans had been ground to dust. Once in the room he lowered her, clasped either side of her head, and kissed her savagely. Hungrily. Sabrina returned every stroke of his tongue. Without needing to vocalize it, their hands started to tear at each other’s buttons as they continued to kiss. Frenzied movements. He must slow this down, a least by a notch or two.

  Breaking the kiss, he pulled away, far enough to capture her gaze. Never had he seen such heated desire in a woman’s eyes. Without breaking eye contact, they peeled the layers away, kicking aside petticoats, skirts, shirts, and trousers, until they were completely nude. Sliding his gaze downward, he drank in her curves, her plump breasts, the curve of her hips, her long legs. “You’re beautiful. Every part of you.”

  Sabrina smiled. How readily she did it now. Boldly, she drank him in, her gaze lingering on his erect cock. “As is every part of you. Is this where I ask shyly if that will fit inside me? Because surely it cannot.” She gave him a wink and a deep-throated laugh. “Miss Featherstone said the same to Sebastian.”

  “You’ve become such a tease. A vixen. And I love it.” He fisted his prick. “This is yours. To bring you pleasure. Never to hurt or humiliate. I mean it, my darling.”

  She stepped forward, laid her hand on top of his and gave him a squeeze. “My darling.”

  He kissed her again as they both stroked him, inching closer to the narrow bed. One day, if all worked out according to his deepest hopes and desires, he would have her in his large bed at Wollstonecraft Hall.

  They lay upon the bed, kissing, caressing, and stirring the passion to full boil. One of his hands slid between her legs. Wet. Damn it all, he couldn’t wait. He rolled on top of her, raising himself up by his arms, and gazed down at her. Skin against skin. Heat. Fire.

  First, he wanted her to come. Cry out, writhe under his ministrations. Riordan began at the curve of her hip, laying kisses up her torso until his mouth locked onto her erect nipple. His other hand caressed her inner thigh, moving ever closer to the heart of her. Inserting two fingers, then three, he stroked, rubbing her nub while suckling madly at her breast.

  Already she moaned, her face flushed. He pulled his mouth away far enough to say, “Do not suppress it, Sabrina. Demand I give you more.” He returned his attention to her breast, his tongue flicking the nipple and he stroked her faster.

  Sabrina groaned, her hips rising off the bed. “More. Faster.”

  That she vocalized her demands nearly made him come. He liked to talk during sex, always had. Perhaps it was the teacher in him. Describing and explaining what he wanted. What he would do to her. Then to follow through with a thorough demonstration.

  With a widening of her eyes, she cried out, gasping for breath. “Oh, God, Riordan…” Her feminine core tightened and spasmed, her entire body shuddering with her release. Removing his fingers, he grasped his shaft and teased her entrance, then thrust in. Filling her as she still trembled with her release was damned astonishing. Her climax vibrated through him, to his very soul.

  Starting with a slow pull and push motion, he increased the speed of his thrusts. Leaning forward, he wished to give her swollen nub the friction it needed to make her fly apart once more. The sounds and smells of sex filled his senses. The air fairly crackled with life and vibrancy. Colors swam in his vision.

  With a moan, Sabrina trailed her hands down his arms, reached behind him, and grabbed his rear, pulling him in deeper. They moved together in perfect rhythm. Faster, until she cried out his name over and over, shuddering once again.

  He was damned close. He was about to pull out, but Sabrina clutched him tight, holding him in place. “Don’t leave me. Stay.”

  “If I do, we must stay married, do you understand?” Her father had crudely claimed she was barren, but he didn’t care one way or the other. But in case she wasn’t, he would not take the chance of getting her with child without the promise of his name and protection.

  Leaning up, she bit his shoulder. “I understand. Come inside me.”

  With a hoarse cry, he did, giving her all he was and ever hoped to be. Every muscle in his body contracted as the powerful force of his release made his heart pound. Gasping for air, he fell to her side, pulling her close into his embrace. He still shook and shuddered, completely awed by the experience. Completely in love with her.

  They didn’t speak; they merely held each other until they both drifted off into a blissful sleep. When Riordan awoke, he gently positioned himself between her legs, bringing her awake with gentle kisses to her inner thighs.

  “Riordan, what are you…oh!”

  He licked her, then spread her folds. “If you do not like it, I will stop.”

  “Is…is this the feasting?”

  He laughed. “Let me guess. Sebastian did this to Miss Featherstone.” Sabrina nodded. “It most certainly is, my darling vixen.” He pushed his tongue inside her and she gasped. With a contented sigh, Sabrina grasped a handful of his hair, her hips rising with each stroke of his tongue. She was close; he recognized the signs. He rose to his knees and plunged inside her as she screamed his name over and over. Again he rode the waves of her pleasure, which fueled his to fiery heights.

  He lost all control. Pounding fiercely, an animal growl escaped his throat as he reached his peak. Riordan collapsed next to her, taking great gulps of air.


  “Is it always like that?” she asked.

  “No. Only with you.”

  Sabrina lay partly on top of him, stroking his damp chest. “Stay with me tonight. Sleep with me. I’ve never slept with a man before.”

  Good. He would be the first to hold her through the night. A fleeting thought of the dead earl crossed his mind. Glad he’s dead. How dare he misuse and abuse this glorious woman? No one would ever harm her again. And if he had his way, they would spend every night lying in each other’s arms. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Chapter 23

  When she awoke in the morning, Riordan had already departed for school, but he’d placed a note on the pillow: I owe you another kiss, my darling vixen, in a most intimate place. He had drawn a heart next to the words. Once Mary left after lunch, Sabrina carefully folded the small piece of paper and placed it between the pages of The Bold Seduction of Miss Featherstone.

  She may not have said the words last night in response to his declaration of love, but she’d showed how she felt with her body—and the fact she’d allowed him to spill inside her. Before they fell asleep, he told her they had much to discuss tonight, hinting that, at last, he would reveal more about himself. She couldn’t wait.

  With tea steeping on the stove, she tucked the book under her arm and settled on the chaise longue, curling her feet under her. Mittens meowed loudly, and Sabrina picked her up. The kitten settled in next to her, as she’d done the past few afternoons. Sabrina had no sooner read three pages when a pounding at the door interrupted her peace.

  Sliding off the chaise carefully, so as not to disturb Mittens, she smoothed her skirt and headed toward the door. Opening it, she gasped in shock.

  Her wretched father.

  She tried to close the door, but the baron stuck his booted foot across the doorjamb. “I have need of you once more.” He pushed his way into the cottage and slammed the door behind him.

  “We have nothing to say to each other,” Sabrina sniffed.

  “I beg to differ. Remember that I said there would be consequences.” He pulled a small bottle out of his coat pocket. “Drink it.”

  She raised her chin in the air. “I will not.”

  Her father glanced around the room, and his cruel gaze settled on the sleeping kitten. “Yours?” He stepped toward the chaise.

  “Do not touch her!” Sabrina cried, remembering the threat he had made toward the kitten she’d wanted years past.

  “Drink what is in the bottle or I will wring the mangy creature’s throat,” her father snapped.

  Panic began to set in. Why was he here? Oh, why hadn’t she told Riordan about her father’s threats? Why hadn’t she taken them seriously? All she wanted was to place all memory of her father in the past, and because of that she’d placed herself in danger. “What is it?”

  “Enough laudanum to keep you quiet on the journey. Sutherhorne has made an offer I cannot and will not refuse. He wants you still, and for what he has offered, I will deliver you to him. This very day.”

  Sabrina’s heart chilled. “No. Do not do this.”

  He slammed his fist on the table, knocking the teacup to the floor. It smashed into pieces. “I. Have. No. Choice.”

  “We all have choices.” Sabrina vaulted toward the bedroom. There she could lock the door, perhaps escape through the window. But her father moved too quickly. He grabbed her arm, wrenching it and causing her to cry out in pain. She bumped against the table and the saucer joined the cup on the floor, shattering on impact.

  “The sooner you drink this, the sooner this will be over with. My carriage awaits.”

  “But I’m married—”

  “I don’t think Sutherhorne much cares. When the marquess has his mind set, he is determined to have his way. Now, drink the contents of the bottle or I will snap the cat’s neck.”

  She gave her father a deadly look; she knew him well enough to know he would do it. “This could poison me.”

  “I measured the correct amount. I would not damage the goods.”

  Goods. Chattel. Property. That is all she ever was to her father. Snatching the bottle from the table, she pulled out the stopper and drank. The bitter taste made her shudder.

  He pulled her toward the door. “Then let us depart.”

  “You’re a hateful man.” Already her words were slurred.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Next she knew she was bundled into the carriage. Her surroundings spun at a rapid pace as the horses lurched forward. All turned to darkness.

  * * * *

  Riordan was having an incredible day. To wake with Sabrina in his arms was heaven on earth. Because she slept contentedly, he did not disturb her when he rose from the bed. Leaving the naughty note would give her a smile, he was sure of it.

  The children were working diligently on their geography assignments when a frantic knock interrupted the quiet. His students all raised their heads questioningly. “I will see to the door, continue on with your work.”

  He opened it and Mary stood there, a worried look on her face. She clutched his arm and pulled him outside, away from the children’s hearing. “Mrs. Ingersoll came to fetch me. She arrived at the cottage at two o’clock to do the housekeeping, but Sabrina was not there. She thought at first she’d gone for a walk, but when she discovered the smashed teacup and saucer, she became worried.”

  Mary took a deep breath and exhaled. “She also found the teapot. The contents had boiled away. The kitten was in an agitated state. Sabrina would not go out and leave the teapot boiling on the stove. Besides, her cloak is still on the hook. It is too chilly to go walking without it. Something has happened. There are carriage tracks and hoofprints by the door. More than one set of footprints in the mud. A man’s boot, to be sure.”

  Damn. Alarm bells pealed inside him. Her father? The marquess? Who else could it be? “Can you stay here until dismissal? Or better yet, when they finish their assignment, have them pass it in and allow them to go home. Once the last student is gone, make haste to the cottage and wait for me.” Jesus, he’d have to run to Walsh’s farm for his horse. “I’m heading to Durning’s.”

  Mary gasped, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “You don’t think…”

  “I know the baron’s finances are in precarious shape. God knows how desperate he is.” Damn it all for not realizing the man would pull such a stunt. Did he think to still marry her off? Collect the money? Never in his wildest imagination did he believe her father would snatch her away. Unless this is entirely innocent—his gut, however, said different. “Will you stay here?”

  Mary nodded and followed him into the schoolroom. Riordan had already gathered his coat and gloves. To hell with the hat. “I have an emergency,” he announced to his students. “Miss Tuttle will stay with you. Behave.” He whispered in Mary’s ear, “I’ll meet you at the cottage.”

  He was out the door and running across the field toward Walsh’s farm, admonishing himself the entire way. Serves him right for thinking men of the peerage had any remnants of honor. He should have told Sabrina what her father was capable of. Damn and hell, after last night, he should have told her everything, right then and there. That the settlement did not come from her father. That his real name was Wollstonecraft. He’d planned to tell her tonight. Too bloody late.

  He reached the barn. Out of breath, he saddled his horse. Farmer Walsh stepped into the stall. “Is something amiss, Mr. Black?”

  “I need Grayson, not sure how long I’ll be gone. Family emergency.” By God, Sabrina was his family. All he wanted in this life. If anyone harmed her, he would commit murder. With a fluid motion, he was seated. Kicking Grayson’s flanks, they were off, heading toward Durning House.

  Once they arrived, Riordan tethered the reins to a post, then gave the gelding a pat. He vaulted up the stairs and banged on the door. The footman answ
ered—what was his name? Bugger it. He grabbed the lad’s livery and twisted as he stepped across the threshold. “The baron, where’s he gone?”

  “I don’t…don’t know,” the footman sputtered.

  “Why is there no butler?”

  “Left last month. Hadn’t been…paid.”

  Ah. Riordan twisted tighter and the footman gasped for air. “Your name again?”

  “George,” he croaked hoarsely.

  “Right. George. I’m going to release you, and you’re going to tell me everything you know. Where is the baron, and where is my wife, Sabrina?”

  Riordan let go and George coughed, trying to regulate his breathing. “All I know is the baron is in a bad way, moneywise. He’s been in a rage for the past three days, cursing his daughter.” George paused; anger radiated in his eyes. “He owes me wages as well. Why protect him? I’ll tell you what I know…give me a minute.” He coughed again, rubbing his throat.

  “Hurry up, man.”

  “He received a letter from the marquess, the old one who was here weeks ago. It made his eyes light up. I delivered the response myself.”

  Riordan crossed his arms. “And you read it.”

  “Yes, I bloody well did. The baron said he would deliver his daughter to the marquess for no less than thirty thousand pounds. I figured I’d get me pay at last. I figured you lot all came to an agreement or some such. None of my business what toffs get up to.” George’s accent was slipping. “Guess he took her against her will, if you’re here. Wouldn’t put it pass him. He’s a nasty bit of work, is the baron.”

  “Where did you deliver the note? Is it where he’s taking Sabrina?”

  George shrugged as he continued to rub his throat. “Maybe. It was in London. In Mayfair, at Ten Duke Street.”