by K. Webster
I hide away my triumph at having been chosen over the gorgeous tartlet and let my husband take care of me like he vowed to do not that long ago.
IT HAS BEEN HOURS SINCE the innkeeper cleaned up the blood-stained floors but I keep dragging my gaze over to the spot where I lost my fucking mind. I want to relive the moment—to feel the way his nose crushed from the blast of my fist.
I want to make him pay for what he did to her over and over again.
The authorities had come and taken him away. Bribery goes far in this city. Throw a handful of silver coins in the policeman’s face and the problem is swept under the rug. It also doesn’t hurt having your best friend being deeply involved with every single person with any sort of clout in this godforsaken place. With Jasper’s influence, my nearly killing that idiot went away. Simple enough.
What didn’t go away was the mood that filled both Edith and I afterwards. There’s a thick cloud hovering over each of us, and I don’t like it one fucking bit. Gone is the easiness of our agreement. It has been replaced with confusion. I feel as if the foundation of our relationship has been fractured. Neither of us has spoken but I can feel her blaming me for what happened.
She damn well should blame me. What sort of fucking fool agrees to marry a woman and still allow her to have endless amounts of lovers? Guilt niggles at me. Apparently I am that fool. My intention was for it to be easy. A business relationship. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her—feelings that I don’t even know how to comprehend.
I’m not attracted to her.
Keep telling yourself that.
My mind drifts to earlier when she fucked that arsehole. I couldn’t get her out of my head and with every moan he drew from her, I wanted to slit my goddamned wrists to escape the taunting of her voice. Sure, I had driven into the blonde over and over again, but it was Edith’s name that was sitting on my tongue. And when I slammed my eyes closed before I came, I imagined her haughty raised eyebrow and that mouth of hers. The blonde was a vessel. It wouldn’t be the first time I got off with my wife on my mind while I fucked my lovers.
It’s a goddamn mess.
She’s my wife. I should be allowed to have her any time I damn well please. But is that what I want?
The thought of another man coming into her room ever again infuriates me. I cannot allow it any longer. In fact, we’re leaving this wretched city in the morning. I’m ready to take her to safety and introduce her to my family.
She whimpers in her sleep and the fierce need to protect her overwhelms me. It shocks me but I don’t hate the sensation. I rise from my seat in the corner of the room and stalk over to her bedside. With each breath she takes, I watch her. Her dark locks are still wet from her bath and I have the urge to twist my fingers into them. Dark lashes jut out over her naturally rosy cheeks and I decide, in this moment, that she is very beautiful. Why else do I think about her continuously?
Another terrified sound comes from her lips as she sleeps. I want to comfort her but I’m not sure I even know how. With a deep sigh, I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed behind her. She’s warm and appears to be so tiny without all of her frilly clothes on that she normally wears. I do what feels right and wrap an arm around her.
How could I have ever put her in such a dangerous situation? What if he had killed her?
The thought causes bile to rise in my throat. I squeeze her tighter to me and inhale the lovely scent of her hair. If someone were to come in, they’d see me acting like her damn husband.
I am her damn husband. It’s high time I begin acting like it. Especially if we set off to see Father tomorrow.
Not long ago, after we signed our agreement, she had mouthed off at me and wondered what would happen if she were to confess our sham of a marriage to my father. I’d gone off on her and told her I’d kill her myself to keep the secret.
It was all a lie though. A lie she believed—a lie I needed her to believe to make this work.
Truth was, however, I would never lay a finger on Edith. In fact, the moment I had delivered my threat, I instead wanted nothing more than to take her mouth with mine—to taste the woman that agreed to be my wife so easily.
But I was blinded by my contract to her—I didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. After we’d gone off to the inn where I’d reserved two rooms, we parted ways until our wedding the next evening. Once we had our ceremony, however, I realized just how difficult that would be—not mixing the business with pleasure—and I nearly destroyed it all in one evening.
“You may kiss your bride,” the officiant says blandly. I had called for him last minute and apparently he has better things to do with his time, even though I paid him handsomely for his services.
Edith lifts her wide, brown eyes to mine and I see the hope in them. I’m snared in her gaze—a gaze that says she believes this marriage may evolve into something more than a contractual binding of two people.
And that simply cannot happen.
Too much is at stake.
My inheritance for one.
The other is her heart. I’m simply not a man that falls for one woman and stays there. I enjoy the company of a lady in my bed but by dawn I will have grown bored of her. They’re for my pleasure without unnecessary ties securing me to them. If I allow myself to kiss her—to taste the mouth that I’ve learned can be quite saucy—then I’ll lead the poor girl on.
I can see it in her eyes.
She is the type to become attached.
The moment I sink into her and find my release, I’ll be ready to roll over and forget her. It cannot be that way between the two of us. We’re married now and we have an act to uphold. If she were to be clingy, or worse yet, jealous of my other lovers, she may divulge our pact to my family.
Keeping her at a distance is what needs to be done.
Dipping down, I press a chaste kiss to her forehead. When I pull back and smile curtly at her, I see the tears swim in her eyes. The moment is brief before she plasters on a fake smile and storms from the chapel.
Welcome to married life.
By the time I reach the doors to exit the building, I see her hiking her dress up as she hustles across the street to a pub. I groan and check my timepiece. The whore I paid for will be waiting in my room soon.
Running a palm through my thick hair, I make a decision. I’ll cheer the poor woman up and the whore can wait. I’ll pay her doubly for her time.
“Edith!” I call out but she ignores me as she slips inside the pub.
By the time I have made it indoors, I see her sitting at the bar telling the man her order. I stride over to her and sit in the stool next to her.
“Celebratory drink, Countess?” I question.
I bark out my order while I wait for her to answer. It doesn’t come though. I’ve gone off and married a woman that’s slightly mad.
Leaning toward her, I drop my lips to her ear. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Edith. This is a business relationship if you’ll recall, not a real marriage.”
She nods and turns to regard me. Our faces are inches apart and hell if I don’t have the urge to kiss her like I should have at the chapel. My eyes fall to her lips and I stifle the groan that nearly overtakes me.
“Let’s drink. We’ll celebrate this marriage—our business deal,” she says with a false smile. The act turns her pretty mouth into something flat and insincere. I’m not fond of this smile.
Hours later, we’ve overindulged on liquor and I can’t stop wondering what she tastes like—her mouth, her breasts, her cunt. I would imagine she’s sweeter than honey.
“When may I call upon my first lover, Alexander?” she questions with a hiccup.
My half grin drops as I imagine another man enjoying the mouth I’ve spent all night obsessing over. If fucking outrages me. “Not tonight,” I tell her gruffly.
Her lips fall into a pout and I feel my cock become erect.
What if?
I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her to me. Both of us sta
re at the other for a long moment, neither of us willing to make the first move. Before I do something I shall regret, I bring my lips to her ear and I draw the lobe between my teeth. She lets out a tiny gasp and her hand covers mine that’s in her hair. We become statues for what feels like eternity as I tongue her ear. It’s evident we both desire more. I’m willing to forget the whole stupid contract for one night. Could we both put it behind us tomorrow and carry on like usual?
“There you are, Alexander!” a shrill, familiar voice rings out. “I have been waiting at the inn for hours.”
The whore. I’ve used her on many occasions because she sucks cock really fucking well. But tonight I don’t want her. I want something new.
I want Edith, my wife.
But Edith has sobered in my arms and is pushing herself away from me. “Your lover is here,” she spits out in disgust as she retreats.
I gape after her as she stumbles toward the door in her haste to leave. A man steadies her near the door and I see the interest he has for her in his eyes.
“Do you want me to suck you off in the alley or in your room?” the whore questions as she reaches me and slips her arms around my neck.
My eyes are still on Edith. She glances once at me and then smiles at the man on her arm. Together, they stroll out of the pub toward the inn.
I could go after her.
Stake claim on my wife.
Or, I could count my blessings at having avoided what could have been a huge mistake.
“The room will be perfect, dear,” I murmur to the whore. My lips connect with hers but my eyes are on the dark-haired woman I can still see through the window.
Edith rolls over in my arms so that our chests touch, jerking me from my thoughts, and I stare at her. Even asleep, she manages to intrigue me. I want to know what it is that she thinks about all day. Do I ever cross her mind? Does she ever wonder what it would be like to make love to me?
I slide a palm up to her cheek and stroke her gently. This shouldn’t feel so comfortable. However, I find myself relaxing and losing consciousness as I hold this woman.
My wife.
When did things change?
MY ROOM IS DARK BUT I sense that it is morning. Every bone in my body aches and the memories of yesterday flood me. I curl into a ball on my bed, seeking warmth further under my covers.
In a happy marriage, a husband would comfort his wife. However, in my marriage, I comfort myself apparently. For once, I simply want to be held by someone that loves me. It would seem that my punishment in this life for what I did to Elisabeth will always prevent me from having what I desire most.
To be loved.
“Edith,” Alexander’s deep voice calls from the doorway.
I pretend to still be sleeping. I’m not ready to deal with him today. Yesterday, he valiantly rescued me from Victor. For a moment, I assumed maybe he cared for me. But then, he sulked in the corner and stewed about the entire ordeal. Never once did he ask me to talk about what happened. I was left to manage on my own.
The floor creaks as he steps into the room and strides over to my bedside. The bed squeaks when he sits beside me. My heart flutters at his proximity and I desperately attempt to calm it down.
“Edith, dear, we’re leaving.”
This certainly gets my attention and I twist to face him. His brows are furrowed but I can still see them in the room that is becoming less dark by the second as the sun rises. I try not to notice how handsome he looks with his dark hair styled in a floppy way on his head. He has dressed fancier than his usual attire and it reminds me of our wedding.
To keep from staring at him all morning, I draw my attention from him and over to the window.
“Where are we going?” I rasp out. My throat is still sore at the abuse I suffered at the hand of Victor.
I startle when he swipes a finger over my forehead and pushes my hair aside. “Havering. It’s time, Edith. I’m ready to present you to my family as my wife.”
We never discussed leaving today so I’m slightly alarmed at his proclamation. “When?”
“In two hours. That should allow you enough time to have breakfast with me and pack a suitcase.”
I’m still reeling from his plan to take me to Havering. I cannot argue though for the simple fact that I agreed to this. Six months ago, I assured him I could be his partner in this unusual scheme.
“I shall hurry, Alexander. Can you see to it that I get some tea?”
He smiles at me. “It will be ready upon your arrival to the dining room.”
A small grin tugs at my lips. When this husband of mine is nice, I sort of lose my head and become mesmerized by all that is him. He grows more handsome and it is in those moments that I crave for him to kiss me.
It was just last week that I had to physically refrain from throwing myself into his arms during one of those rare moments he had me swooning for him.
Ouch!
I found myself sidestepping to avoid the cat that lives in the inn and tripped over my dress. One moment I was in mid-sentence greeting Alexander for dinner, and the next I was on my hands and knees.
“Edith!” Alexander shouts and I hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up from the table and makes his way over to me. “Are you okay, darling?”
I roll over to sit on my bottom and stare up into his concerned eyes. My chin quivers but I hold it up bravely. “I’m fine. I just bruised my knees.”
He frowns at me as he squats before me and brushes a hair out of my face. “You must be more careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I smile at him. His words are genuine and I believe that he truly cares for me. Oftentimes I wonder if I’m simply a business partner to him. Other times, I know in my heart that he feels some sort of affection for me.
“I will survive, Alexander. It was a simple fall,” I giggle.
His eyes light up and he grins mischievously at me. “Let me be sure that you are not hurt. May I?”
My eyes widen when he takes hold of the end of my dress and inches it up my legs. Our smiles are gone as he holds my gaze every agonizing step of the way. I’m not feeling any pain from my fall because all I can feel is my knickers as they become drenched. His thumbs drag along the inside of my legs, transferring his blazing heat onto my flesh, as he pushes up the dress causing me to nearly go insane. I’ve had many lovers since I married Alexander but not one has made me nearly orgasm from such a simple touch.
“Alexander,” I whine when my dress slips over my knees and stops at my thighs.
“Yes?” he murmurs.
“What are you doing?”
He dips his mouth to my knee and brushes a soft kiss on it. My eyes roll back and I stifle a moan that threatens to rip from me. Why must he tease me so?
His lips press against my other knee and I gasp.
When he lifts back up to face me, I see that he’s suddenly angry. “Your scent . . .”
His lips are pursed together and he’s scowling. “I need to leave. I cannot have dinner with you tonight,” he blurts out abruptly.
Confusion washes over me while he rises hastily to his feet. Tears brim in my eyes as I sit on the floor and listen to him stomp out of the dining room.
What is wrong with my scent?
“Lord and Lady Thomas will be joining us.”
His words draw me from my memory and I gape at him. “But she hates me, Alexander. You don’t understand.”
“That isn’t any of my concern. What is of my concern is convincing Father that we are married—and happily so. We shall require Jasper’s assistance in that quest. It is already decided and they will meet us at the train station in two hours.”
I swallow down my emotion but nod. It hurts that he is being so brisk but I have no other choice. I’ve promised to do this with him and I won’t break that promise.
“Would it be possible that we board at a later time?” I ask hopefully. “So that I don’t have to unnecessarily encounter her?”
His eyes dro
p to my lips and he seems momentarily dazed. “Of course. Now make haste.”
As he stalks out of the bedroom, I stare after him and admire the view. He may frustrate and confuse me but I never tire of looking at him, especially when he wears trousers that hug his muscled frame so neatly. His arse is one I wouldn’t mind seeing in its bare form. Perhaps when we make it to Havering, I will have that opportunity.
I lick my lips and groan.
Good heavens, I need a cold bath now.
MY FISTS ARE STILL BRUISED, and each knuckle is busted from having beaten that idiot to within an inch of his life last night. I’d simply gone mad—much like during the secret cellar fights I used to have with the guys back in Havering. The fights where I would lose control and my fists would guide the destructive path until someone pulled me off my bloody opponent.
To let loose and have the rage flood through me—rage I’d been pretty schooled at containing—was invigorating. Had it been under any other circumstance, I would have felt drugged from the pleasure of the release.
However, it was not under any other circumstance.
No, it was to protect what belonged to me.
Edith.
At first, I was pissed when I heard the noises coming from her room. I wanted to make my whore—whatever the hell her name was—scream out my name in ecstasy just to rile Edith up.
But the moment I heard her scream my name in terror followed by the brutal banging against the wall, I saw red.
Bloody fucking red.
The prick was smashing my wife’s head into the wall like it was his God-given right. So help me, had I not seen her crying and looking so vulnerable, I would have killed him with my fists. But she needed me. She was broken like never before. I wanted to protect her.
Now?
My eyes skim over her appearance from across the table. Her normal prissy attitude has been replaced by that of a sadder one. One that concludes she’s been made aware of her fragility being that she’s a woman. Her bottom lip is swollen, and just seeing it causes rage to flare through me.
