by Lauren Smith
Despite the rough plundering of his tongue in her mouth, the fingers between her legs were gentle. They probed her growing wetness, spreading the slick honey of her core about. Her late husband had never touched her like this. He’d taken her body calmly, careful not to hurt her, but he had never truly pleasured her either.
Ashton’s touch was such sweet agony by comparison. His sensual play bathed her in fire. The ache was intense, painful even. This man was her competitor. He was ruthless and a notorious rake. Yet at that moment all Rosalind felt was the pleasure of being desired, seduced, and kissed with wild abandon. She’d never been an object of desire before, and this moment strengthened the last remnants of her feminine confidence.
Ashton did not know how to respond to Rosalind’s eager reciprocation. Giving in, succumbing, even fainting he was accustomed to, but Rosalind had instead fought back with equal ferocity, matching him play for play. In the end, he’d struck where he knew she would be most vulnerable, and it seemed to by paying off.
He slid a finger into Rosalind’s sheath, groaning with strained pleasure at the suction and warmth. Her inner walls latched onto his finger, and Ashton could barely control himself. The mere thought of himself inside her, rather than his finger, had him gasping for breath.
“Your body wants me, Rosalind…wants me buried in you to the hilt. Feel that?” He inserted a second finger inside her. Rosalind whimpered, her head falling back and her hands clenching and unclenching on his shoulders, like a cat kneading with its paws.
“Oh, it does, my lord. But do you think yours doesn’t want me as well?” Her hand grabbed his arousal, making it even tighter against his breeches. Her hand moved and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head with a mix of pain and pleasure. Where had she learned to…?
Before he had time to realize what was happening, the little woman had gripped his shoulders and slammed him against the wall. Her mouth was on his, that sweet taste exploding on his tongue again.
I should push her away. I’m too close, too… Oh, to hell with it! I want to be bad again…
Ashton curled his arms around her body, using the wall behind him as support. With each rub of her hand, he felt his body respond, that tightness in his breeches almost unbearable.
“Wouldn’t you like to pin me down in bed, Lord Lennox? See my hair flared against a pillow? Tame that Scot’s temper of mine?” she murmured. A bolt of hot arousal shot straight to his cock as she licked the shell of his ear. He groaned helplessly, the image she’d painted too damned perfect to ignore. Then she moaned and gasped as though he were bedding her, again and again. Another moment of this and he’d—
“Rosalind!” He hissed her name as his body went rigid and pleasure exploded through him. His shaft jerked beneath him and he sagged back against the wall.
He looked down at his breeches. Oh no…
The little Scottish hellion stepped back. At first he thought it might be in shock or regret, but no. Instead she smiled at her work and gave a husky laugh. “Well, now, at least my skirts cover my minor disgrace. I wish you the best of luck in dealing with yours, my lord.” With a taunting smile, she pulled off one of her black gloves and dropped it between them on the ground.
Disposing of the garment that had touched his member, or was it perhaps some sort of challenge? Still smirking, she smoothed her skirts and left the alcove.
Stuck alone in the alcove to fight off his irritation, Ashton could only glare at Lady Melbourne as she disappeared into the heavy crowds preparing for the opera’s second act. How the hell had a woman gotten the upper hand against him? There was no way he could step outside in this condition. He’d have to wait until the opera had ended and the crowds had dispersed.
Ashton slapped an open hand against the wall behind him and breathed in deeply. Then he glanced down at the glove, and with a vengeful delight, he retrieved it off the floor, tucking it securely into his coat pocket. He would find a way to return it to her when the circumstances ruled in his favor. Once he finished this little game.
Little minx. I’ll get you for this.
Chapter Eleven
The small white card propped against the vanity mirror spelled out Anne’s fate in delicate script.
You are cordially invited to Chessley Manor
for a wedding breakfast to celebrate the marriage of
Lady Anne Isabelle Chessley to
Lord Cedric Alexander Sheridan.
“Am I truly doing this?” she asked aloud.
Emily stood behind Anne, her beautiful figure highlighted in a pale blue silk bridesmaid’s gown. “Anne, you are in a wedding dress waiting for a carriage to take you to St. George’s. Either this is some elaborate prank you’ve dreamed up to shock all of London, or you are doing this.”
Anne fidgeted, her hands running over her silver silk gown trimmed with Honiton lace on the bodice, sleeves and hem. The door to Anne’s bedchamber opened and Horatia peeked inside. Both she and Emily were wearing lovely matching gowns with small tulle veils.
“Emily, our carriage is here. Cedric and the men have departed for the church. It is our turn.” Horatia flashed a radiant smile in Anne’s direction.
“So soon? All right, I’m ready.” Emily’s hands settled the wreath of roses and orange flowers over Anne’s thin veil and secured it with a few hairpins. Once satisfied, she kissed Anne’s cheek and left the room. Horatia lingered, however.
“I just wanted to say thank you, Anne.”
“What for?”
Cedric’s sister clasped her hands together in front of her, eyes bright with unshed tears. “My brother is the best of men. He has had to raise two sisters, mourned the loss of our parents and now his sight. The world has taken so much from him, and I fear he has so much left to lose. But with you by his side, he won’t face the world alone. I am not sure you can understand my point of view, as you have no siblings. When I married Lucien and Audrey was sent away to Europe…I feared for him. He was so terribly alone.”
“But he isn’t anymore.” Anne wished her eyes weren’t burning. It felt foolish to want to cry. “I may not know what it is to love a sibling or suffer when they suffer, but solitude is something I do understand. Today I will pledge myself to your brother so that neither of us shall be alone ever again. We will survive together.” Anne had barely finished speaking before Horatia clasped her in a fierce embrace.
“Thank you, sister.” Horatia wiped a tear from her cheek and kissed Anne before she left the bedchamber. Anne took a deep breath, but a knock at her door startled her. She gathered her skirts and opened the door to find the Duke of Essex waiting there.
“Pardon me, madam, I thought perhaps I could escort you to the church? Cedric told me that you have no male family members to give you away.” At this point Godric flushed, but he bravely continued. “It would be my honor to do so, if you wish.” It was a bashful, bumbling, uncertain side of the man that Anne had never seen before. No wonder Emily was hopelessly in love with him. Beneath that stern countenance he was a man of deep emotions.
“You would do this for me?”
“You are a part of Cedric’s world now and therefore a part of mine. I want nothing more than to see you properly given away to my friend. Besides, no one should ride to their wedding alone.” Godric extended his arm to her. Anne linked her hand through his arm and let him escort her to the carriage.
Anne had expected her journey to St. George’s to be a lonely one. But the charming duke sitting across from her made the trip entertaining, and far less worrisome. They arrived at the church in no time at all. Godric got down first and offered her his hand. She lifted her skirts out of the way and stepped down.
Ahead of her, the doors opened and inside she saw hundreds of curious onlookers, as well as members of the families of Cedric’s closest friends. There didn’t seem to be an empty seat available.
Fear sliced through Anne and
she froze, unable to take another step. Godric turned her toward him.
“Anne, listen to me. Look straight to the front of the church. Find him. He’s waiting for you.” Godric turned her back to the cavernous opening and there he was. Cedric shifted restlessly, as though feeling her eyes on him.
“Look at him, only at him. It is just you and Cedric today. No one else is in that church. Walk to him and him alone.” Godric squeezed her hand, and she found she was walking with him down the aisle. Her feet moved of their own accord, bringing her closer and closer to her destiny.
Look only at him. She did exactly that. Ashton stood at Cedric’s side and leaned over to whisper in Cedric’s ear. Whatever Ashton said seemed to banish the shadows on Cedric’s face, replaced by a grin layered with relief. Anne felt her lips curving to mirror his.
We can do this, she encouraged herself silently.
The closer she moved the more she admired the man she was about to marry. He stood tall and proud in a dark blue frock coat. The white waistcoat snuggly fit his athletic frame, as did his light ivory trousers. Even his cravat was perfectly set. It was simple and light, not the awkward multiple-ruffled creations most men wore. It was just like him. No illusions, no games. He dressed the way the world should see him, a man with strength and will. He was no daintily clad aristocrat. He was simply Cedric, and he was everything she’d ever dreamed of in her heart since she was a young girl.
Anne would later marvel that she didn’t recall the music or even the face of the clergyman who joined them together. All that her mind and heart had focused on was the feel of Cedric’s warm hand joining hers as they exchanged vows and wedding bands.
There was something powerful, something wondrous about the knowledge that what they’d done today no man could tear asunder. After being proclaimed man and wife Cedric brushed a chaste but lingering kiss on her cheek, and the tenderness of it made Anne light-headed.
“Shall we go, lady wife?” Cedric’s face was mockingly serious.
Anne laughed as he broke into a teasing chuckle. “Lead on, fearless husband,” she replied and took his arm.
They walked past the endless aisles of well-wishers and gawkers to the wedding carriage outside. Orchids and roses had been threaded onto delicate netting on its sides, and the glossy-coated bays snorted and stamped impatiently. Cedric caught Anne’s hand to help her as she climbed into the carriage. She turned to him, taking his arm to aid him. For once he did not recoil from the offer.
He was barely seated before Charles and Lucien shouted a cheer and the crowd pelted them with rice. Cedric laughed and tucked Anne into his side, shielding her from the raining pellets. Cedric then pulled out a blue velvet coin pouch and tossed its contents into the air. Children scrambled forward to collect the shiny treasures as they rolled and clinked against the stone steps of the church.
“Let’s be off,” Cedric hollered to the carriage driver. The horses lurched into motion, and Cedric settled back into the seat and kept one arm about Anne’s waist.
“I’m simply famished. How about you?” he asked.
“Oh yes. It’s funny, I couldn’t stomach a thing this morning. But now I’m starving,” Anne admitted.
“I had a similar attack of panic myself. Got halfway through a scone before I realized I wouldn’t be able to eat another bite. I am so relieved this is all over…” He paused speculatively. “I doubt that was the most romantic thing to say, was it?”
Anne laid her head against his shoulder. “I agree. It wasn’t. But I shall confess I share the sentiment. When Godric and I arrived at the church doors I almost ran away. Can you imagine? The sight of all of those people staring at me…”
“However did you make it down the aisle?” Cedric’s soft tone did not conceal his concern.
“I saw you waiting for me. After that, nothing else mattered.” Anne inwardly chided herself for saying something so foolish and sentimental. It made her look like a pathetic romantic. She shut her eyes, wishing she could take the words back. When she opened her eyes, Cedric’s face was an inch from hers. He surrounded her face with his white-gloved hands and leaned his forehead against hers.
“I love that about you.”
“Love what?” Anne’s gaze fell to his sensual lips, so close to hers.
“That deep down you aren’t cold. You are an inferno, a blaze that consumes me.”
“I’m not a—” she began, but Cedric possessed her mouth in a slow, tantalizing kiss. One to erase all those that came before it. She felt fresh and new, the blushing bride she ought to have been years ago. When their lips finally parted, she couldn’t remember a thing about their conversation.
“What were we talking about?”
Cedric brushed his lips back and forth over hers in a feathery caress. “I’ll be damned if I can remember.” His remark left them both laughing.
The carriage stopped at Chessley Manor, where the wedding breakfast was to be held. In the brief span of time she’d been gone the servants had turned the manor into a living garden.
“I smell flowers, lots of them,” Cedric observed, his head turning like a hound catching a familiar scent.
“My housekeeper has outdone herself.”
Anne and Cedric entered the morning room to find the food all laid out. Exquisite silver trays laden with viands and lobster salad were among the delicacies. In the center of the large table a lavishly decorated cake was waiting to be devoured.
“Are we alone, Anne?” Cedric asked. The guests were still en route from the church, and the servants had scattered at the sight of the newlywed couple entering the morning room.
“We are.”
“Excellent. Lead me to the cake.” He peeled off his white gloves and pocketed them. Anne did as he asked, curious to see what he wanted. “Now dip a finger into the icing.”
“What?”
“Please.” Despite the blankness of his eyes, heat simmered in his expression.
“Fine, although I don’t know what you’d want me to ruin our cake for.” Anne dipped her finger into a discreet place near the base of the cake where she hoped no one would notice. A dollop of white icing coated her finger.
Before she could stop him, Cedric captured her hand and took her finger into his mouth, sucking on it. She felt the heated glide of his tongue. A moan escaped her lips.
“Shall I do that again?” he offered in a husky tone.
“No,” she said, regretting it the instant his face fell. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t know that she meant to return the favor. She took his hand and carefully ran his own index finger along the same path she’d put her own and covered it with frosting. His body went rigid as she brought his hand to her mouth. Anne licked the icing from his finger, relishing the taste of sugar on his skin. The combination was nothing short of sinful. She could get used to such a decadent taste. And from the look on Cedric’s face, she sensed he wanted to do more than lick her back.
“Like I said, lady wife. Inferno.”
* * * * *
Charles muttered to himself as he examined two suspicious grooves in the frosting on his slice of wedding cake. “I say, I believe someone had a taste of this before I did.”
“Just eat it,” Cedric said gruffly as he used a spoon on his own slice. Dear, sweet Anne had brought him a spoon, remembering his aversion to sharper utensils.
“Righto, old boy.” Charles dug into the rich cake and had a bite before speaking again. “I didn’t believe you actually meant to go through with this, you know. But somewhere between the ring exchange and the vows it occurred to me that you genuinely care for your wife.”
“Of course I care for her.”
“I mean you truly care. I think you may be in danger of falling in love with her.” Falling in love was uttered with all of the excitement of a doctor discovering an outbreak of plague.
Cedric found Charles’s s
houlder and jostled it in a brotherly fashion. “Well don’t become joyous on my account.”
All around them the Chessley morning room was filled with guests eating and chattering. Cedric had done his obligatory duty of greeting guests and enduring the numerous toasts to everyone’s health before he could finally escape. He’d hunkered down in the corner out of the way, where Charles had joined him.
Charles changed the subject. “Have you and Anne given any thought to what you plan to do with the manor?”
“I haven’t yet reached a decision. It is a lovely place, but I wonder if Anne will want to keep it after losing her father. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I escorted Jonathan to Drummond’s Bank yesterday, and he was set on securing a loan to buy a townhouse of his own. I believe he means to set himself up and start a life. I imagine that he’s grown tired of being shuffled between Godric and Ashton’s homes.”
“You think he means to start settling down? At his age?” Cedric hadn’t really thought it possible. He and his friends had only just started to want to settle down themselves. Jonathan was almost a decade their junior.
“Perhaps he’s taken a serious interest in your offer of Audrey. If he obtains the loan by next week, he can begin preparing a lovely little nest for a bride.”
The comment would have sent him into a protective rage a few months ago, but now Cedric seriously considered it. “Do you think so? I should talk about it with Anne tonight.”
“Aren’t you more interested in activities that don’t involve talking?”
“Careful, Charles,” Cedric warned, but his tone was teasing.
“Do you think you will suit each other then?”
“With time, yes. But I believe I will have to introduce her to passion slowly. She’s likely to be overwhelmed by it. Being untouched, she will have pain and discomfort the first time. God, I would wish that pain on myself a thousand times over if it would spare her.”
