To Wed A Viscount

by Adrienne Basso

  Faith fumbled for the matching silk wrapper the maid had left draped across the foot of the bed. Griffin moved forward to assist her, the merest hint of a smile gathered at his lips.

  All at once Faith felt hot. Her hand fluttered to her throat and she prayed the dim candlelight hid her red cheeks.

  Griffin was wearing a midnight blue silk dressing gown. The fragile covering made his shoulders seem enormously broad. The garment was loosely belted at the waist, and he had rolled up the sleeves, displaying strong forearms covered with silky-looking dark hair.

  At this close proximity she was fairly certain he was naked beneath the garment. Just thinking about that fired both her blood and her imagination. She quickly wrapped the belt of her robe around her waist and pulled it tightly closed.

  Griffin gently placed his knuckle beneath her jaw, lifting up her chin. Faith stood very still.

  “Nervous?”

  “Terrified,” she whispered.

  “So am I.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a faint smile.

  Faith’s eyes flitted away. Never before had she been so aware of her feminine shortcomings. Her lack of height. Her small bosom. Her plain features.

  Her virginity.

  “You mock me, Griffin,” she said.

  “Never, dearest.” His fingers brushed her brow, pushing back tendrils of hair that curled around her face. “Tease you, perhaps, but never mock.”

  Faith shifted uncomfortably in her bare feet. His gentle sweetness would be her complete undoing.

  Then she made the mistake of touching him. Softly, almost casually, on the chest. She could feel the heat of his body through the silk of his dressing gown and the hard strength of the muscle beneath.

  “Come along.” Griffin held out his hand. “ ’Tis past time we were in bed, my dear.”

  Faith stared down at those strong, masculine fingers as the uncertainty rippled through her heart. If she was going to tell him the truth, she certainly needed to speak now. This instant. For she knew in her heart that once her back was pressed against that soft mattress, with Griffin looming above her, there would be no time for words.

  Yet if she told him the truth he could simply walk away from her. Have the marriage annulled, since it would not be consummated. Could she bear it?

  “Faith?”

  Startled, she looked up. Her heart began its wild thundering again. The candlelight turned his hair to near blackness, his eyes to a silvery glow. She found herself drowning in their intense reflection. His closeness, his near nakedness made her aware of him over every inch of her flesh.

  Tell him! But the words lodged in her throat and the silence stretched on for an eternity. Fingers trembling, Faith raised her hand and touched his chin, stroking the rough stubble of his beard.

  “You are right. ’Tis getting late, my lord. I heard the clock strike ten just before you arrived.” Faith reached deep down and summoned up a smile. “Perhaps we had best go to bed.”

  “Your wish is my command, my lady wife,” he replied huskily, proffering his arm courteously.

  At that moment, Faith didn’t know which emotion warring inside her was greatest, fear or anticipation. With a shaky breath and a wavering smile, she placed her hand on top of Griffin’s and followed him toward the large bed.

  Griffin smiled as Faith made no move to douse the candles, oddly pleased he wasn’t married to a shy, inexperienced young virgin who would require hours of patient coaxing. One who would merely submit to him in silence, tensing at his slightest caress, lying rigid underneath him in outrageous shock as he tried to consummate their union. A woman who would feel compelled to try and hide her dislike of marital relations, gritting her teeth as he labored over her. Who would tense up and feel pain, because she expected pain. Who would find no joy in their mating.

  Yes, he was indeed fortunate with his choice of bride.

  Griffin placed his hands about her waist and lifted her onto the high bed. She gave a little gasp of surprise and gripped his shoulders tightly to steady herself.

  Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him. He leaned closer and placed a tender kiss at the corner of her mouth. Reaching up, his fingers traced the delicate spot at the back of her skull, then traveled leisurely to the shell-shaped curve of her ear and the sweet line of her jaw.

  Lightly, he caressed the softness of her cheek, moving downward to the slim column of her throat, and then finally, possessively to the delicate curve of her breast. Gently, he thumbed the peak of her nipple until it budded and tightened.

  He heard the catch of Faith’s breath. She wiggled her shoulders but did not pull away. Griffin traced her lips with his tongue, then kissed her deeply. His hands roamed freely over her body. She was warm, soft, and shapely. Griffin’s erection grew painfully harder as he anxiously awaited the moment he could lose himself inside her sleek warmth.

  She made no protest, indeed no sound at all as he gently, yet forcefully, pressed against her shoulder until she lay flat on her back. Her eyes remained pinned to his. The silence that bound them was fraught with tense desire, heavy with the promised anticipation of great fulfillment.

  Griffin captured those silent lips and kissed her again, sucking ravenously on the tongue she eagerly offered to him. The pace of urgency suddenly heightened. His arousal become more rigid and enlarged, aching for release, and he prayed his bride would be quick to rise to passion, since he doubted he could last long.

  “ ’Tis a lovely night ensemble, but completely unnecessary, do you not think?” Griffin said smoothly as he pulled off Faith’s wrapper and lifted the nightgown above her head.

  He quickly shrugged out of his own robe and eagerly joined her on the bed. He stretched out fully beside her and gathered her close, savoring the feel of her warm flesh.

  “ ’Tis very warm in here,” she said.

  “Aye, and will get even hotter, dearest,” he replied, nuzzling her neck. He cupped her full breast with his hand, then bent his head and pulled the nipple into his mouth.

  Faith closed her eyes and let out a soft groan as he sucked deeply. He felt her fingers run up and down his spine in restless excitement, felt her legs shift anxiously beneath him.

  He was fleetingly aware of the tension building within her, for it seemed to rival his own. A world of sensations rippled through him as he caressed her delicate flesh. She was soft and yielding in his arms, pulsating with heat and passion.

  Boldy, Griffin moved his hand to her belly, stroking and kneading the soft flesh. His other hand strayed to her breast and tugged gently on the turgid nipple that was still moist from his earlier ministrations.

  Slowly, he parted her thighs. Her eyes remained locked on his, round with excitement and wonder. She gasped as he stroked the dewy softness, quivering in his arms, her breathing swift and shallow.

  He quickened the pace, circling the swollen nub of her womanhood. Her nostrils flared, and she pushed herself against his hand, her fingers biting into his shoulders. The slick wetness told him she was more than ready, yet he hesitated, struggling to gain control of his own rampant desire.

  “Griffin, please.”

  Her whimpering cries of urgency proved to be his breaking point.

  “I had wanted to go slowly and savor each moment, but you have pushed me beyond my control, dearest. Perhaps it would be best to take the edge off first, so we may enjoy ourselves at leisure.”

  He lifted her legs and pushed them wide, then buried his face between her wantonly splayed thighs. Greedily, his tongue sifted through the dark curly hair until he found her core. Faith clung to his neck, sobbing, panting, her body trembling and tightening.

  “Shh, relax, dearest. Let it happen,” he whispered wickedly.

  He placed a gentle hand on her flanks to calm her, lightly stroking her fevered flesh. Then he once again settled his mouth against her intimately, laving her tenderly, yet relentlessly, with his tongue.

  Within minutes, Faith arched and cried out, digging her heels into the soft mattress as
she lifted herself up. Then Griffin felt the spasms break over her. He held her tightly as she shuddered with the strength of fulfillment.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered brokenly, as he continued to stroke her lightly with the tip of his finger. “I didn’t know.”

  “Ah, but there is more, my sweet wife. So much more,” Griffin said hoarsely.

  Bracing on his elbows, Griffin pulled himself above her. Her neck and chest were flushed and fevered, her nipples red and swollen. She had that languid, contented look of a sated woman, and it made him hunger to possess her, to drive himself deep and long inside her. To become part of her.

  Griffin seized Faith’s hips in his grasp, overcome with an urgent need to take her with a wildness he had never before felt with any other woman. Desire raging beyond sanity, he arched his back and thrust hard into the tight, silky sheath.

  Faith gasped and tightened beneath him. The feel of his body joined with her was incredible, and he hungered for more. Withdrawing slightly, he thrust deeper inside her.

  “Oh, my!”

  Her softly whispered cry of pain distracted him momentarily. With effort, he stilled inside her.

  “You feel very tight. Am I hurting you?”

  “No, I, ah, no.” She smiled at him sweetly.

  He bent his head and nuzzled her neck, tasting her with soft kisses while trying to regain control of himself. But it was impossible. She was too wet, too warm, too utterly delightful. How could he not lose himself in the magic of her body?

  With a groan, Griffin eased his hips back, then surged forward, thrusting harder and deeper until suddenly he felt the unmistakable barrier inside her break. A maidenhead? Astonished at this discovery, Griffin pulled back. But Faith’s inner muscles contracted around him and instead of disengaging himself completely from her body, he thrust back, more forcefully this time.

  His passion had been raised to such a fevered pitch it took no more than a few deep thrusts before the waves of sensation crashed around him. Shuddering, he bellowed a hoarse cry and spilled his seed deep inside her.

  Gradually, reality returned, yet Griffin felt paralyzed, aware only of the mad thumping of his heart and the residual pulsating of his cock. It wasn’t possible. Yet it was unmistakable. She was a virgin. A damn virgin!

  “Griffin?” Faith’s voice was a worried whisper in the darkness of his heart.

  Their eyes met and hers darted away. In guilt. His gut twisted. Never in his life had he had a naked woman beneath him who looked so completely uncomfortable.

  “It seems you have some explaining to do, madame,” he whispered dangerously. Still breathing hard, he disengaged himself and sat back on his haunches. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

  Thankfully she didn’t even pretend to misunderstand his meaning. “I tried to tell you. At the church, before the ceremony. Then later, at the wedding supper. You would not listen.”

  “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “No, of course not.” She swallowed hard.

  “Then what exactly are you saying, madame?”

  “I had meant to tell you, the moment I realized that you believed I had given myself to Neville and was no longer a virgin.” She hesitated, looking steadily back at him, her eyes wide and face pale. “But I could not.”

  “How convenient.” He cast her an intense, calculated stare.

  Faith’s chin lifted defiantly. “Are not most husbands pleased to discover their bride’s untouched state? I thought you would be happy to discover that I was in truth a virgin.”

  He studied her through half-lowered lids. “You know very well that the reason I married you was because I thought my brother had compromised you. Had I realized it was your intent to exchange your virginity for your integrity I would have withdrawn my offer.”

  She flinched, and a blush stung her cheeks. It moved him not a whit. He wondered fleetingly what else she had kept from him, what else she had lied about.

  Griffin felt betrayed, furious, shaken. To have been deceived so callously, so completely by her. And to think he had earlier held such high hopes for this marriage. Had silently congratulated himself on his choice of bride. Now, he felt a fool. A surge of bitterness rushed through him.

  He crossed the room and yanked open the sitting room door. He quickly found his garments, hastily discarded in blissful ignorance earlier. Jamming himself into his breeches, Griffin gathered up his shirt and boots.

  “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

  He whirled at the sound of Faith’s voice. She stood trembling in the doorway, in a disheveled dressing gown, looking deliciously warm, with swollen lips and ruffled hair. Her brown eyes brimmed with tears, but for once the sight did not move him.

  “Where are you going?” she repeated.

  “Out,” he muttered in breathless agitation.

  “Out? Where? ’Tis the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t know. I need time to think, time to decide.” He cast her a look of pure disgust. “I need time alone, away from you.”

  After delivering those scathing words, Griffin made for the door, turned the handle, and vanished into the night.

  Nine

  Faith spent the remainder of the night in total misery. Tears seemed a useless commodity, though she shed them copiously, until it felt as if there were none left within her soul. The coming dawn brought little comfort. She lay alone in the massive bed, cold and heart sore, her ears straining in the half-light of morning.

  There were no sounds emanating from the connecting sitting room, and her heart ached with misery, wondering where Griffin had spent the remainder of the night.

  Finally, as the late-morning sunshine flooded the room, Faith’s maid appeared.

  “Good morning, my lady.” The maid came close to the bed and dipped a small curtsy. “I’ve brought hot water, scented soap, and fresh towels. Are you ready to begin your morning toilet?”

  The servant’s cheerful voice implied that she found nothing amiss, but Faith knew she was an intelligent woman. Surely she had to be wondering why the bridegroom had so completely disappeared. Or perhaps the servant had already seen him downstairs in the taproom?

  The thought made Faith shiver, but at least offered the hope that he had not left the inn and returned either to London or gone home. Without her.

  Gingerly Faith sat up in bed. Pushing aside her embarrassment she asked softly, “Have you spoken with Lord Dewhurst this morning?”

  The maid looked confused. “No, my lady. I have not seen him, nor his valet. Do you want a message delivered to his lordship?”

  “N-no, thank you.” Feeling more foolish than ever, Faith sank back down among the pillows. In truth, she wished she could curl into a tiny ball, bury herself beneath the thick coverlet, and simply disappear.

  “They don’t have a proper bathing tub or else I would have insisted on a hot bath,” the maid informed her. “I hope this warm sponge bath will do.”

  “ ’Tis fine,” Faith said with a grimace. With difficulty, she managed to drag herself out of bed, deciding it was probably better not to have a steaming tub filled with water awaiting her. She might be tempted to drown herself.

  Faith allowed the maid to sponge her from head to toe with a wet cloth, then dry her briskly. Normally she would be embarrassed to have such a personal task performed by a servant, but considering the great mess that her life had suddenly become, this event ranked very low on the list of concerns.

  “Would you like to wear the same traveling ensemble from yesterday or shall I press a fresh gown from your trunk?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Faith said. She heaved a listless sigh. “You decide.”

  The maid nodded. She brushed the gown Faith had worn the previous day, gathered clean undergarments from the trunk, and helped her dress.

  “Shall I have your breakfast brought into the sitting room, my lady?” the maid inquired, as she caught the thick mass of hair at the nape of Faith’s neck, lifted it, and twis
ted it into a knot.

  The thought of food made her stomach turn. Who could possibly eat at a time like this? Faith glanced in the mirror, watching solemnly as the maid set the knot of hair in the middle of her head and added pins to the handiwork to keep it from tumbling down.

  She sighed again, remembering how Griffin had specifically asked that her hair be left unbraided last night. It seemed to please him, and he had stroked the silky tresses lovingly, repeatedly running the strands through his fingers like they were grains of sand.

  “Breakfast?” the maid asked again.

  “The sitting room will do nicely for breakfast,” Faith replied.

  She doubted she would be able to swallow a bite, but at least it would get her out of the bedchamber. The bedchamber that held so many intense memories. Of unfounded joy and ecstasy. And helpless fear and regret.

  All too soon, Faith found herself seated at the cozy sitting-room table, with a veritable feast spread before her. Insisting she could serve herself, she dismissed the innkeeper’s minions. Needing something to occupy her hands, she poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate and let it sit untouched in the cup until it grew tepid.

  Where is he? Idly, Faith twisted the fine gold and ruby-studded band she now wore around and around her finger. Is he ever coming back? Or does he just plan to leave me here? Alone?

  Mentally Faith began to calculate the amount of coin on her person. She had no idea of the cost of these fine accommodations and worried that the meager sum she carried would not be enough. Of course, Griffin might have already settled the bill. Even without that burden to contend with, Faith knew she did not have enough funds to hire a carriage to return her to Mayfair Manor.

  There might be enough to pay for passage on the mail coach, but the notion of spending hours cramped inside a stuffy vehicle with strangers left Faith feeling queasy. She supposed as a last resort word could be sent to Merry for help, for London was not a great distance away.

  Yet Faith resisted that final, ultimate admission of failure. For now.

  The sound of a creaking door interrupted her gloomy musings. It swung open abruptly, and Faith froze at the sight of an elegant, polished boot crossing the threshold.