But after the wedding, he changed. He had become distant, aloof, even cold. The only time she saw glimmers of the old Carlisle was when he came to her in the dark. He would apologize for inconveniencing her and quickly see to his business. It was, all in all, exactly as her mother had described. Though she couldn’t help but remember what had occurred on her wedding night. The glimmer of passion, the ache in her core, and the way he’d kissed and touched her. That was what she wanted, that, and the comfort of a partner in all things.
She missed discussing issues she’d come across with him, seeking his keen insight. She missed sharing funny anecdotes about her day with him. And she missed the sense of not being alone that she had found with him. She sighed softly.
“Oh, dear,” Marie said. “That sounds like trouble in paradise.”
Every drop of Lizzy’s blood plummeted to her feet. “W-What do you mean?”
“I apologize for being so forward, but I know the sound of a woman in turmoil when I hear it. And you, my dear, are in just such a state.”
“Well, I suppose every newly married couple goes through an adjustment period.” Lizzy hedged.
Marie’s green eyes softened. “Mags forgot to mention my background before she ran off. You see all these women? They are all close friends of Mags. Women who are kind at their core, and while they move amongst the Ton, they are not as judgmental and callous as most of society. That is important because I was a madame at one time.”
Lizzy inhaled sharply in shock.
“These women do not judge me for my past. They have all accepted me, despite it. My husband and I were childhood sweethearts, separated by circumstances, and reunited as adults. He fought long and hard to convince me to marry him. So, needless to say, I know a bit about both men and women and what makes them tick. If you ever need a sympathetic ear or just a confidant who will not judge, please know I am here. Mags adores you, but I am sure it would be quite awkward to confide in her since it would regard her son.”
Lizzy was having a difficult time keeping up with Marie for a moment. She remained stuck on the fact the striking woman she was speaking with had been a madame. Should she even be speaking with her? What would Carlisle say? But then it occurred to her that Mags—his mother—was close friends with Marie and had even made the introduction. Lizzy decided that if he had an issue with her new friend—and she was certain they were going to be friends—he could take the issue up with his mother. By that point, the rest of what Marie had said crystalized, and Lizzy understood what the woman was telling her. She was among friends. She didn’t have to hide her concerns. “Thank you, Marie. I do appreciate that.”
“Very well, now have you read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman?” Marie’s green eyes held a twinkle that drew Lizzy in, much as her sister often did. She would have to introduce Theo to Marie at some point. She felt certain they would get along famously.
The afternoon slipped away, and soon Lizzy returned home as she continued to mull the issue of her husband over in her mind. Perhaps she needed to attempt to be seductive? She never considered herself to be beautiful, but she knew she was attractive enough. Carlisle certainly seemed to find her passably pretty. After all, he married her, didn’t he? With that thought, she made her decision.
She would attempt to seduce her husband tonight when he came to her.
She refused to sit in the dark, covered neck to toes and wait, trembling like a sapling in a stiff breeze. It was time to take matters into her own hands. She may not know what she liked in the bedroom, but she was game enough to learn if only her husband would make the effort to teach her. Tonight, she would let him know just that.
Spurred by a determination she had never before felt about anything, she went to her closet to inspect her wardrobe. What did a woman wear to excite a man? It was unfortunate that he had destroyed her nightgown from their wedding night, though clearly, the sheer nature of it had excited him beyond reason. She riffled through her chemises and nightgowns, but they were all the normal white cotton. Then stuffed in the back of the drawer, she spotted one item balled up. Curious, she pulled it out and opened it up. She stepped out of the closet and into the late afternoon sunshine and held it up. As the weakening afternoon light pierced through the worn cotton, she realized she had something as good as her ruined nightgown. With a nod, she rang for Sarah and asked her to press the chemise for her. Perhaps with a little luck, her husband would fall under her spell. If this didn’t work, she didn’t know what she would do.
Chapter Five
Carlisle entered the dining room and paused. He’d not told Lizzy that he’d be joining her tonight, so it rather surprised him to see her looking so fetching. She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her shoulders and then scooped wide and low across her bosom, trimmed with a teasing hint of lace. The sleeves were puffs of material that gathered tight at the top of her arm and left the rest bare. She sat, but he didn’t need to see her standing to know how the gown would nip in at her waist, emphasizing both her breasts and her hips.
He bit back a pained groan. At previous meals, she had worn high-necked, long-sleeved demure gowns that hid everything. Certainly, those prim gowns highlighted her full figure, but there was so much less skin. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Despite that, there was a place laid for him.
“Carlisle, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” She pressed a hand to her bare chest.
He hesitated a moment. Could his wife be entertaining someone this evening? Anger swept over him in an unexpected wave. “Were you expecting someone else for dinner?” He looked pointedly at the place setting and then back to his wife, who had clearly made some effort with her hair and clothing this evening. He moved over to the empty seat.
“Of course not.” Her cheeks turned a fetching pink as her gaze dropped to her hands hidden in her lap. “I always have a place set for you in the off chance you decide to appear.”
He pulled up short as he started to sit and then stopped. She always set a place for him? And bastard that he was, he rarely made an appearance. He cringed inwardly as he took his seat. “Do you?”
“I do,” she breathed. “I want you…”
His wife hesitated, and he savored the words without whatever mundane ending would soon follow.
She cleared her throat. “I believe a man should always feel welcome at his own table. That wouldn’t be true if there was no place setting for him.”
A footman entered and hesitated a moment before pressing forward with the tureen. Apparently, his wife was not the only one surprised by his appearance. The footman continued toward his wife and served her first. Then he moved to where he sat and repeated the process. Once the man disappeared, the two of them proceeded to eat their soup.
So, his little wife was not expecting him, but she set a place for him, and she dressed as though expecting guests. His gaze swept over her dazzling display of creamy flesh, and he sighed. It was going to be a very long and painful meal if they were going to remain silent.
Before long, the footman returned to clear their soup bowls before bringing a platter of pheasant with a pile of roasted vegetables and a crusty loaf of bread. The fare was laid out on the table, and they were left to serve themselves.
“I apologize, but the staff and I have become accustomed to slightly less formality around meals when it is just me. Had I known you would be joining me, I would have changed the menu and had us served properly.”
He couldn’t help but wonder why. This less formal approach was quite nice when it was just the two of them. He’d never been fond of having staff hovering over him while he ate. “This is fine. I’m quite capable of serving myself.”
“Yes, I did not mean to suggest otherwise.” Her gaze dipped to her empty plate.
He huffed a bit. “My apologies. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I simply meant I am fine with this arrangement. You may feel free to leave this in place even if you know I shall join you.”
She cast a shy look up at him f
rom beneath her lashes. Long sooty lashes that seemed to make her eyes appear to be a pale grey. Even more captivating. Had she done something to make them darker?
“Certainly. I shall keep that in mind.” She took a slice of pheasant and scooped a few vegetables onto her plate.
“Would you care for some bread?” He asked her as he sliced the loaf.
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
He passed her a slice, and then they settled into their meal. Time stretched out ever so slowly as he watched her take delicate bite after delicate bite. All the while wishing it was his cock passing between her lush pink lips. And then she would periodically pat her mouth with her serviette, continuing to draw his attention to her kissable lips. How could her every move be so intoxicating? So enticing? His wife was not a wily seductress. No, she was a simple woman who was straightforward and honest. She was not one to tease and flirt with a man.
After half an hour of stilted conversation and him fighting a cockstand at every turn, their meal was finally over. Unwilling to linger and make things more awkward, he rose and dropped his serviette in his seat. “It was an excellent meal. I’ll be in my study if you require anything.”
Without waiting for a reply, he fled the room as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Dear God, he must be getting desperate if the act of his wife eating dinner was making him hard. Stalking over to the bar, he poured himself a whisky and swallowed it in a single gulp. He wouldn’t last. He knew it, and yet he had to—for his sake and for hers. Eventually, it would get easier. It had to.
He’d sat in a chair near the fireplace for what seemed like hours when a soft knock stirred him from his brooding. A chambermaid shuffled in carrying a heavy pale of coal. She then proceeded to stoke up the fire, sweep around the hearth, and then reload the coal bin next to the fireplace. Then she looked up at him. “Shall I lay more coals on the fire for you, my lord?” She jammed the words my and lord together so that they sounded like a single word.
“Please, just a few. I won’t be much longer,” he said as he sat there swirling the whisky in his glass.
She went about the task and then stood up and curtsied. “If there isn’t anything else you need, my lord.”
It was then that he noticed her bodice was just a bit too tight, and her brown eyes offered so much more than fetching coal for him. He let one brow lift in surprise and a bit of censure. Then he replied with a curt, “That will be all.”
She hesitated and then seemed to make up her mind. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you, my lord?” She pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts forward. “Rumor has it you and my lady are on the outs. If she’s not taking care of you as a woman should, I—”
“What the bloody hell? What makes you think such a proposition would be welcome? When have I ever in all of my days laid a finger on a member of this staff? Never, that’s when.” He stopped and peered at her. “Are you new here? What happened to Jenny?”
Chastened, the dark-haired girl shrank back and hunched over herself. “I’m sorry, my lord. Jenny got pregnant and had to go to her confinement. I’m her cousin, and well… well, my last employer demanded things of the chambermaids. I just assumed all of you fancy types were the same.” The girl was red-faced, stammering nonsensical apologies, and edging toward the door of the study.
Carlisle wanted to curse again, but clearly, this girl had already been mistreated by a man. “Stop where you are.”
She did as she was told. The now crying girl stood shaking by the door. “Please, my lord, I didn’t mean to upset you. Please don’t sack me.”
“None of the servants in my employ are expected to provide anything but the domestic duties you are paid for. If anyone in this house lays a hand on you in a manner that is not welcome, I expect you to come to me directly and tell me of it. You are paid to clean and to maintain this house. Am I clear?”
“Yes, my lord,” she sniffed.
“Now go. We need not speak of this again, and you will not be sacked over a misunderstanding. If I hear of such business again with myself or anyone else under this roof, then you surely will be turned out. Now off with you.”
“Yes, my lord.” She curtsied and scurried out of his study, quietly closing the door behind her.
He rose and poured himself another drink. Heavens, he needed it after that exchange. He set the decanter down when another knock sounded at the door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly ten o’clock at night. How had his study turned into Waterloo Station? “Come in.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and then he heard the lock turn. He spun around, thinking the girl had returned and stopped dead. “What the…”
“Hello, Carlisle.” His wife stood before the fire wearing the sheerest excuse for a chemise he’d ever seen, a chemise that barely hit her mid-thigh, and nothing else. Her golden hair cascaded around her shoulders, falling in soft waves, and her lips shone with a deeper pink than they’d been at dinner.
“Lizzy? What is going on?” He couldn’t pull a coherent thought together in that moment as he saw the outline of her lush curves limned by the firelight behind her. She might as well be naked for all that her chemise covered. Where did she find these scandalous garments?
She licked her lips nervously and seemed to try and find a place to put her restless hands. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m making myself available to you.” Then she put one hand on her hip and the other on the mantle. When she nearly knocked a porcelain shepherdess to her death, she snatched her hand back and then looked wildly around her.
Dear God, his sweet, demure wife was trying to play the seductress!
He bit his lip to keep from laughing at her fumbling. He didn’t think she would appreciate amusement at her efforts. And she had gone to great effort. Her hair shone like deep summer wheat, her lips were like ripe berries, and his gaze dipped to her chemise again. The barely-there, tantalizing wisp of cotton. It made a man want to shred it from her body. Again.
His cock hardened, and his hand tightened on the glass he held until he feared it might shatter.
She may be an artless seductress, but her efforts were not fruitless. He certainly wanted her.
His mouth watered, and he gripped the edge of the table next to him with his free hand. It was the only thing anchoring him in place. If he let go, there was no question he would ravage her right there in his study. He fought for equanimity. “Lizzy, it was a long day, and I’m quite tired. Perhaps another night.” He took a drink of the whisky in his glass and hoped she would leave. He needed her to leave.
“Carlisle, I want more than the fully clothed fumbling moments in the dark we’ve had since our wedding night. I want to be a true wife to you.” She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “In all ways.”
He wanted to sing with joy. He wanted to curse. This couldn’t be. He couldn’t be trusted. “Go to bed, Lizzy.” He turned away from her and filled his empty glass again. When did he take the last swallow? He was so focused on his entrancing wife, he couldn’t recall.
He could feel her hovering behind him as he poured yet another drink. Tension hung between them, thick and cloying. Fucking hell!
“Alexander, please.” She laid a hand on his back.
His big, hulking back needed to support his big hulking body. Why had she ever agreed to marry him? He’d hurt her on their wedding night. Both with the size of his cock and his needs. He’d never do that to her again. Never treat her that way. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He refused to be the monster he’d once been labeled.
He reached down and grabbed the edges of the bar and held on. “Leave me. Go to bed and leave me,” he gritted out as he fought the urge to reach for her and do as she asked. But that was the problem. She didn’t understand what a man like him wanted, no needed, from a woman. How could she?
The moments ticked by more slowly than during dinner. The wood groaned in protest against his grip. And then the lock turned, and the door closed
softly behind him. His grip relaxed a bit as he continued to fight the war within. He wanted to run her down, sweep her into his arms, and carry her upstairs to bed. But he would be denied because he couldn’t be trusted. On a sigh, he looked down at his steely cock and cursed. “Damn it all to hell.”
He crossed the room and locked the door to ensure there would be no further intrusions. Then he flopped into his chair and opened his trousers. Taking his shaft in hand, he pictured his wife standing before the fireplace, asking him to use her, let her be a true wife. He shifted the words in his mind, making them dirtier, more raunchy, and played the moment over and over again as he stroked. Within moments his release was surging up from the depths of his balls as he remembered the purse of her lips, the way her nipples had been puckered against the sheer cotton, and the way her lips had begged for his kiss—or maybe his cock. He wouldn’t have been picky.
Finally, the pleasure exploded within, shaking him to his core as he imagined spewing his seed all over his wife’s breasts. He sat there, heaving in his breath as he realized he had nothing to clean himself up with. Bloody hell!
Chapter Six
A week later, Lizzy sat in her morning room at the back of the house. It was a smaller, cozy space that got full morning sun. It was well past morning, but she loved the cheerful yellow décor. The butler entered the room and announced that Lady Heartfield was calling. She bade him bring her there, to join her.
“Good afternoon, Lizzy.” Marie gushed as she swept into the room. “I came as soon as I received your missive.”
Lizzy rose and hugged the woman. “Thank you! I need the type of advice only you can give.” She swept her hand toward the settee. “Please, sit.”
Turning, she rang for a maid. Once the young girl appeared, she ordered tea service for them. Then they settled in and chatted. “How are you doing?” Lizzy asked Marie.
His Wanton Marchioness Page 3
