The Best Man's Bridesmaid

by Raven McAllan

  The Best Man’s

  Bridesmaid

  Ladies of London

  Book 2

  Raven McAllan

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Best Man’s Bridesmaid

  Copyright© 2012 Raven McAllan

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-849-4

  Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Shyla Colt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Dedication

  To Shyla, thank you.

  You push, prod, and make me write a much better book.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I can’t do it. I’m sorry, Harry, I just can’t do it.”

  Charlie, Lord Lampson, glanced around. He felt sick and would wager his face showed his discomfort. “I need, I feel… Oh hell, look.” Charlie held out his hands to his friend to show how much they were shaking. To his disgust, Harry roared with laughter, or roared as much as he could without attracting the condemnation of those around them.

  “Your eyes are as large as a youngster scared on his first pony, your face the color of your cravat. For what reason?”

  “It’s not funny,” Charlie said in a plaintive voice. He swallowed his desire to turn tail and run. Could Harry not understand? “If I was female, I’d swoon. Why am I here, Harry? All dressed up in these clothes. Why me?”

  Harry, Duke of Fairmont, contemplated his shaking friend and patted his shoulder. “You are here, my dear Charlie, because as my oldest, dearest friend, I asked you to be. To stand at my side, to support me, and not to lose the ring. Oh, and to dance attendance on the bridesmaid. You’re the best man.”

  Charlie stared at the grinning bridegroom and rolled his eyes, quelling his increasing impulse to throttle him. Surely no court could quibble his reasons? “Hmm, at least at the end of all this you get to be with a beautiful woman. I, however, will not be so lucky. I do not deserve such cavalier treatment.”

  “Cheer up,” Harry said, wickedness uppermost in his voice. “Have you not heard your erstwhile fiancé is out of mourning?”

  “Exactly,” Charlie replied. His face was gloomy. “That’s a good reason not to cheer up. It means I won’t be able to duck the parson’s noose for much longer. For heaven’s sake.” He looked upward; hoping his words were not blasphemous in the Lord’s House, and spoke in a soft voice, knowing he must not be overheard. “I scarce know the girl. She’s my parents’ choice, not mine. They think she’ll settle me down. Curb my wayward spirit or some such thing.” He made a condemning noise within his throat. “What if I can’t—well, you know—with her? I don’t remember her as the sort to get me going, if you know what I mean. I may be a hot-blooded male, but even my cock needs encouragement. And what about Lizzie?” He chose not to mention one other young lady who was filling more than his mind ever since he had helped quieten her in Amanda’s coach on the day his friend met her. If only he knew why she had been there. “I have had to tell her it is over. She was inconsolable.” He paused. “Did you ever find out who was in Amanda’s coach that first night?” he asked suddenly.

  Harry shook his head. “Amanda said it was not relevant to us, and I did not question her. Why?”

  “I wondered, for I once thought I saw her in the park and ended up with a different person.” He shuddered. “And her mama. Not to be repeated in a hurry. Now I have a fiancée to contend with.”

  Harry looked at his friend, and Charlie shut his eyes for a brief moment, not liking the sympathy or query he saw within them. Charlie had no idea just what the day held in store for him but was beginning to suspect it might not be to his liking.

  “What?” he began but subsided as Harry took hold of his arm in a warning gesture.

  “Lizzie will be happy with some jewelry,” Harry told him in an undertone. “As you well know. Bathurst left her well provided for, and with her attributes she’ll soon find a new protect…um, lover to share them with.”

  “That’s just it,” Charlie said in a plaintive tone. “I wanted to be the one to share them. And before you say any more, no, I will not marry and still have or take a lover, which is why I spent an uncomfortable hour with Lizzie the other day. I’m with you on that subject. But Caroline Sessions? All I remember is a quiet mouse, who rarely spoke without prompting. I tell you, I find it hard to remember what she looks like. It’s been the best part of a year since we last met, and then I doubt she lifted her eyes to look at me. She sat unspeaking, head down as if mute. She could have green eyes, gray eyes, hell, three eyes for all I saw.”

  “Well now’s your chance to discover which, if any, of those statements are correct,” Harry said wickedly, nudging him into place as the music began and the bridal procession started to move down the aisle. “She’s Amanda’s bridesmaid.”

  What? What have I done to deserve this? A day dancing attendance on a mouse.

  Charlie turned his head, his pulse raced, and he felt goose bumps shiver along his skin. This was Caroline?

  A vision in red approached. With each step she took, the silk swayed around her body, tantalizing him. He noticed the thin silk ties across her breast, just begging to be loosened, for her breasts to go unfettered, and available for his touch, his caress. His body responded, his muscled hardened, and his cock swelled, grew longer, larger, and if at all possible, even stiffer. His erection was so intense he hurt with the effort of trying to keep it under control. If anyone had tried to tell him that a mere glance of a woman would get him into this state, he would have laughed in their face.

  Charlie noticed the moment Caroline realized the effect she was having on him. He fancied her breasts seemed to stand out with a greater prominence than before, and he could swear that one rosy nipple was peeping from above the silk. Or was it one of those teasing silken strings? Whichever it was, his breath quickened, and he was in severe danger of coming in his pantaloons. The alarming realization that they were so tight, so rigidly containing his bourgeoning body that any liquid would go straight through the fabric, made his palms clammy. He surreptitiously wiped them down the side of said garment. That event was not to be thought about in present company. He’d be blackballed from everywhere, for life.

  “Think, cold water, ice, your mama, my mama if they see your erec…er reaction,” said a soft sensuous voice in his ear. “Think arousing thoughts later. But now think cold. Very, very cold.”

  Whether it was the thought of cold, ice, parental disapproval, or the shock of his hitherto shy and retiring affianced speaking so, Charlie wasn’t certain, but sure enough, his cock subsided enough for him to believe he wouldn’t disgrace himself, and to allow him to breathe easier.

  As he watched his best friend marry his radiant bride, Charlie felt a twinge of envy. He was privy to some of the details of their unusual courtship and understood how they were deeply in love as well as lust. If only he could have that. He tried to discreetly rearrange his clothing, and his body into a more comfortable position. Charlie thought philosophically that he was halfway there, if his state of mind and arousal were anything to go by.

  “You may now kiss the bride.” Charlie started at the vicar’s words, so caught up in his daydream of stripping C
aroline of that sexy dress and discovering what, if anything was underneath, he was unaware of just what was happening. He swayed slightly. Caroline took hold of his arm.

  “Are you ill?” she asked in an undertone, worry evident in her voice.

  “What?” Charlie jerked; he had not expected concern as she spoke to him. “Oh no, no, I’m, fine, er, thinking of mamas and ice and good grief, I’m babbling.”

  “Yes, you are,” She took his arm and practically frog-marched him into the vestry where the register was to be signed. “Never mind, ‘twill soon be over. Just sign when instructed.”

  “Just the beginning,” he replied in a low tone. “And for both our sakes, you’d better pray for an open carriage, or that we are sharing with others. I dread to think what my wayward body will decide to do otherwise.”

  “Whatever you chose,” Caroline answered, laughter evident in her tone. “However, you pray for what you wish, and I will also. Will we pray the same?”

  He prayed. And his prayers were half answered. Charlie decided the gods were having fun.

  As the newlyweds got into their decorated open carriage and drove away, Charlie looked in relief at the carriage halting in front of him and Caroline. Open, thank goodness. Nowhere to hide, no chance of taking liberties, if that was indeed what his mind—and body—were dwelling on. “Ice, ice,” he muttered once more. Beside him he heard Caroline’s soft giggle. What was it about this woman that affected him so? The door was opened to allow him to assist Caroline up into the carriage. Once she was settled, he followed close behind. As they settled the coachman drew away.

  “What the hell was Harry thinking? Open carriages. It’s March, not June. And it’s bloody freezing.” In his agitation, he forgot that he was addressing a lady and had hoped for an open carriage to contain his ardor. But in this weather? “Thank God for the rug. Or my balls would freeze off. And your nipples are so standing out so stiffly, if I tou… Oh b… I mean…” he trailed off before causing any more offence than he thought he must have already. Instead he tucked the rug around her legs. To his amazement she just laughed and rearranged it to cover both of them from the waist down.

  “It still won’t stop my nipples from standing out so stiffly,” she remarked as she took hold of his hand under the cover. “Though as you can’t touch them, they will neither warm up or be tweaked off.” She chuckled. “Oh, Charlie, you should see your face. Have I shocked you?”

  He smiled. “Not at all, my dear. Pleased, surprised, happy, and amazed, but not at all shocked. You obviously have hidden depths. I look forward to discovering what you will say or do next.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you said that.” Her hand, soft and somewhat chilled, squeezed his. “But I feel I must reassure you that whatever I seem to know, there has only been, and will only ever be, you for me, or in me.” She released the hand that she had put in his and waved with her hand still above the rug to the cheering crowd standing on the side of the street. As the carriage drove around a corner, he felt her use her nimble fingers on the placket on his pantaloons.

  Charlie found it hard to contain his pleasure. Was this really the same girl he had become engaged to? This sexy, sensual, arousing, vivacious creature, with glorious auburn tresses reaching to her waist and a glowing clear complexion? Her green eyes twinkled with mischief as she stared up at him. As she undid his buttons—where on earth had she learned how to do that so deftly, so swiftly, and with only one hand—she smirked and almost as an afterthought, allowed his throbbing prick to spring free of its confines. His head swam. What was that she had been saying about only ever been his? He couldn’t think straight.

  The Caroline he remembered had dull brown hair, a muddy complexion, and had—would—never ever show any signs of vivacity. He shuddered, as her small hands began to stroke and caress his ever-hardening cock, and wondered if he really had tried to learn just who she was? He thought not. And then stopped thinking and just felt.

  ***

  As she had followed her good friend, and often co-conspirator, down the aisle, Lady Caroline Sessions had taken a long hard look at the tall, slim—but in no way effeminate—blond man standing next to the bridegroom. Her fiancé. He seemed much, much more interesting than she remembered, for in truth she hardly knew him. As far as he was concerned, a few country dances at various balls, an uncomfortable and mercifully short drive in the park, was sufficient before a formal request to be his wife. Caroline, somewhat in awe, stiff and shy, and very naive accepted it at her parents’ command. They were delighted, telling her she had behaved as any dutiful daughter should, and she and Charlie would make an admirable couple.

  It was the realization that she was merely his way of ensuring he followed his parents’ decree that had plunged Caroline into despair. For Charlie was, she thought, everything one needed in a husband, and she was determined to be the perfect wife. However, there was to be no chance to tell him any of her feelings or to request they tried to get to know each other better. Once he had followed his parents’ demands, he had departed the capital for a round of men-only shooting—and probably other unmentionable activities. Before any further meetings could be arranged, her great-aunt Maud, who was also her godmother, had died all of a sudden and plunged the family into mourning. Her parents and younger sister had retired to their country home, but Aunt Maud, unmarried, no children, had left her house and considerable wealth to Caroline, with the proviso she spent the period of mourning living at Chattels, the house Maud had lived in all her life. She had also decreed that to receive her bequest, Caroline had to live alone, without her family, although there were plenty of servants. She could have friends to visit, for short periods of no more than two days duration. And no more than twice a month. Despite the fact that her parents had protested, Caroline was delighted at the chance of six months freedom before thinking about marriage to an almost unknown husband. And although Aunt Maud had decreed she must live in the house that was to all intents and purpose now hers, Caroline interpreted those instructions as loose as possible. She was happy to spend no more time away than necessary and when in residence made sure she was woken by her maid, in her own bed, alone, every morning. The fact that some mornings she had beaten her maid to her room by mere minutes, she had decided, was irrelevant. What she did during those evenings and nights was no one’s business except her own. She was carrying out the wording of her bequest to the letter.

  Also perhaps not irrelevant, but interesting, were the few meetings between her and her betrothed that he was not aware of. Oh, he was aware of the meetings, had been very aware on one occasion, she remembered with a sensual shiver, but had no idea she was the one he was aware of. The details of those meetings were such that one would not wish to reveal them to others.

  She saw Charlie’s face as he noticed her movements, saw his body begin to respond to the unspoken invitation, and smiled inside. She was no longer shy, retiring, or quiet, nor unconscious of her body and her looks. The past six months had proved very illuminating. Oh, she was going to enjoy herself today. And she hoped for many more days to come.

  She lifted her head proudly, squared her shoulders, sentient that under the deep red silk of her dress her breasts, although covered, hinted at delights to be discovered. The rest of her body as it moved and slithered under the silk made promises to be kept. It seemed this day could turn out to be more interesting than she could ever have hoped.

  Now, not an hour after the wedding service, sitting beside him in the carriage, Caroline had the chance to find out. She moved her fingers to touch him and reveled in the rock-covered silk beneath her fingers. She wished she had two hands to use, for one was nowhere near enough to circle him. She felt his skin ripple and move as she twisted her digits this way and that, and her breath quickened, as she enjoyed the response of his body to her touch. A draft on her ankles made her look down. Her hand stilled, and his cock twitched as if in protest.

  “What are you doing?” She had no way of seeing; the rug covered their low
er bodies.

  “Repaying the pleasure my dear,” Charlie replied. “Open your legs,” he commanded. “Let me touch you, make you as feverish as I am.” She felt his hand edge ever higher and stroke her leg until he was playing with the curls at the top of her legs. She moaned softly.

  “See how good that feels.” He stroked and caressed her and edged ever closer to her clitoris, before he, with a swift but gentle move, put a long, elegant digit inside her. Caroline sighed, her hand tightened on his staff, and she tried to draw his finger deeper into her. “More,” she murmured “Just like…” She shuddered as she remembered where she was. In an open carriage, with a man who must never know what she had got up to during her period of mourning. And about to draw up at Harry’s town house for a wedding breakfast.

  “Charlie, stop. We’re almost there.” She sat up straight and with regret, removed her hand from his cock. She felt him start, and then he withdrew his fingers and smoothed her skirts down. She felt empty.

  “Well, I certainly was,” he said his voice shaky. She watched him put both hands under the cover to, she presumed, rebutton himself. It was as well he did; Caroline knew her digits would fumble at the task. He spoke into her ear, drawing a shaky laugh from her. “Are you all right?”

  “As I can be in the circumstances.” Her voice was thin and somewhat quivering. She felt light-headed and wondered with horror if she was about to faint. I cannot do that. I need food, that is all. Nothing else is wrong.

  “I won’t apologize, you know,” he said in a stronger voice. “We were in that together. But I do think we need to talk.”

  She nodded. “So do I, but ‘tis obvious it cannot be now.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman sprang to the door to help her down. She dipped her head in thanks.

  “Be at your home at eleven,” she said softly as she shook out her skirts and waited for him to take her arm and lead her to the door.