A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle

by Catherine Gayle

  A simple statement of the facts would be the best course of action. “My lady, we’ll marry with all due haste. I’ll travel to London tomorrow to speak with your father and to procure a special license.”

  She stared up at him lifeless glaze cast over her eyes.

  Her reticence was hardly unusual, however. He pressed on. “I spoke with your uncle this afternoon, and he assures me he and your aunt are both quite pleased with the match. Our marriage will take place at the rectory in Somerton as soon as I return.”

  She may not be leaping for joy, but at least she was not in a rage. Delivering the details without any added fluff had clearly been the best choice, after all. Relief swept over him, and the tightness in his chest relaxed.

  “I don’t yet have an estate of my own, but I promise you’ll want for nothing. After a brief honeymoon abroad, I’ll procure property.” He wished he had finished his search and could move her immediately into his home. Women liked having a home of their own—he was certain of it.

  She frowned up at him with a blank look. So far, so good.

  “Where would you prefer to spend most of our time? We can find a home in London if you wish to be close to your father. Or I can begin my search somewhere closer to Somerton, near your aunt and uncle. I would like to see to all of your comforts.” Since he hadn’t yet sorted out all of the logistics involved in Priscilla and Harry’s situation, he’d just have to suit it around whatever Lady Grace preferred. She would be his wife, after all.

  Her glassy eyes now stared through him. She showed no reaction that she heard a single utterance from him. Alex wanted some reaction. Anything was better than nothing. He needed to know she would be happy with him, that she was satisfied with the arrangements he’d made for her future.

  “My lady, I know this is all very sudden. I know we haven’t had a traditional courtship or romance. But under the circumstances—”

  “Under the circumstances?” she roared at him.

  Alex’s eyes flew wide. Well, he’d finally provoked a response, at least. She poked a finger in his chest, and he took a few steps backward from the force of her anger.

  “Under the very circumstances you’ve caused, do you mean? You egomaniacal, insufferable brute!”

  This was not quite the reaction Alex had hoped for. He never imagined she would be anything less than thrilled to have him protect her honor.

  “You didn’t listen to a word I said to you yesterday, did you? Then you had the audacity to kiss me in public, with half of the Quality of Bath in attendance. And now—now? You have the nerve to drag me quite against my will away from my chaperone, and inform me we shall marry with ‘all due haste.’ Of all the pompous, ignorant boors, how did I become so unlucky in life to be saddled with you?” She had built such a head of steam during her tirade against him he could imagine her exhaling flames toward him. Against his better judgment, he found it quite attractive on her.

  Perhaps his tactic of telling her of his arrangements instead of asking her wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was too late now. “I’ve bungled this, haven’t I? I apologize, yet again.”

  They stared at each other for a few moments and she continued to fume. Her eyes were the loveliest crystal shards, much like diamonds. They mesmerized him.

  “My lady, might I have the honor of your hand as my wife?” She would surely warm to him now that he asked instead of informing her.

  “No, you may not. I believe I made myself abundantly clear on the matter. You should leave me alone, my lord. I’m not a suitable bride for you.” She wrung her hands together in obvious agitation.

  He recoiled from her words. Not a suitable bride? He knew they didn’t always see things the same way, but she was obviously well-born, well-bred.

  “What, pray tell, makes you unsuitable?” She could never convince him to change his mind. Such an answer was an utter impossibility.

  Her agitation grew as he watched. She shifted from foot to foot and he thought she might rip one of her hands free from her arm. She took her time to formulate an answer. He could almost see the thoughts fly through her mind. He fought to keep his temper in check as he waited what seemed an inordinate amount of time for her answer.

  She still did not respond and his temper exploded. “Are you only an unsuitable bride for me, or are you an entirely unsuitable bride?” He only allowed a moment before he continued. “Answer me, Grace!”

  Her eyes widened. She backed away from him and turned to flee before he placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch. Did she think he would strike her? Alex took a deep breath as he turned her to face him. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “I will not hurt you, Grace. I’ll never raise a hand to you in anger. You have no need to fear me, but I require an answer to my questions.” He prayed she would trust him with the answer. He needed to know.

  She finally raised her eyes to his, wide as saucers and on the verge of tears. “I—I cannot marry you, my lord. Please do not ask me for more. That is all the answer I can give.” She trembled beneath his fingers.

  “But you must marry me. I’ve compromised you. Your reputation—”

  “My reputation is already in ruins, my lord, and I was compromised long before we ever met. It’s the reason I’m visiting my aunt and uncle. There’s nothing you can do to repair it. Please. Do not ask me for more.”

  She tried to escape again, but he wouldn’t allow it. A silent rage, far more dangerous than his previous temper, seethed beneath the surface. Someone else had compromised her? And then left her alone to deal with the ostracism?

  He yearned to face the man responsible. Alex had two younger sisters—he knew all too well the difficulties they faced in a world dominated by men. The need to set things right for her became an ache in his stomach.

  Why had her father done nothing? Chatham should have insisted the bastard marry her. And if that man did not comply, he should have issued a challenge. But instead, he had sent Grace away to live with her relatives and hide from the gossip.

  To say the ton could be less than understanding over matters such as this would be an understatement. She would never find a decent match. All of this new information reinforced his determination to marry her. She had now been compromised twice—her reputation would never survive the gossip mill.

  “Grace, sweetheart, that is precisely why you must marry me. You need the protection of my name.” He bordered on pleading with her before she interrupted him again.

  “There is no protection you can give me. It’s too late.” She refused to face him, staring instead at the trees behind his shoulder.

  The obstinate chit didn’t know what was good for her. Alex’s fury continued to grow. He was angry at the cur that compromised her and ran. He was furious with her father for not forcing the recreant to do what was right. He was irate with Grace for being so headstrong. He’d mishandled the entire situation, which irritated him with himself to no end.

  She backed away from him. “I must return to the ballroom. My aunt will miss me. Please, don’t try to see me again. It’s better if you stay away.”

  That did it. A sound escaped his mouth that sounded more animal than human. He roughly clasped her hand and hauled her against him.

  “If you’ve already been compromised, Grace, we may as well do this right. You will marry me.” He trapped her hand behind her back and lifted her until her toes just brushed the ground. She looked up at him with frightened eyes and her lips parted in shock. Her face sat mere inches from his.

  Before she could call out, Alex kissed her. His lips were hard against her silky lips, and his tongue sought possession. With a ragged moan, Grace allowed him entry.

  He crushed his free hand against her backside, kneading even as he held her captive. She struggled to pull her hands free. Once he released them, they roamed over his chest, tickling in their tentative search.

  He pulled his head back to lick her neck. She tasted of roses and woman. He breathed her into his s
enses and thought he might drown from the heady sensation. In a moment, he was hard and needy.

  This had to stop now—before he went go too far—but he couldn’t stop if his very life depended on it.

  He needed more—her scent, her taste, her needy little sounds. He needed it all.

  Grace squirmed as he slid his hands over her curves and recesses. He grasped her waist and kissed her again. Slowly, smoothly, he moved his hands up her frame.

  Alex broke the kiss to look at her. Her eyes blazed liquid sapphire. She was reacting to his every touch with soft sighs and lusty moans. With the tips of his fingers, he traced the outline of her breast. She inhaled in shock, trembling against him. The nub of her breast tightened at his touch, and he throbbed in need.

  Drunk with his need for her, he commanded, “Marry me, Grace,” as he continued his sensual assault. He moved his mouth to her ear and nibbled on the lobe.

  He stroked her to a fevered frenzy with his hands, reaching inside her gown to fondle her breasts with no barriers to his touch. Her skin was smoother than silk. It jumped beneath him as he kneaded her mounds.

  Her trembling grew stronger. “I can’t, my lord.”

  Alex pushed the top of her gown aside and freed her breasts. She was exquisite. Bouncing, porcelain bosoms with hardened, dark pink centers danced before him. He feasted on her with his eyes.

  He lowered his head and took an areola into his mouth. She tasted of heaven and sweetness, a perfect mouthful. Her skin was velvet beneath his tongue.

  “You can.” He moved her against the trunk of a tree as his hands moved lower. He raised the skirts of her gown and shift above her knees and stroked the soft flesh of her thighs through her drawers—smooth and shapely and quivering. “Marry me. Be my wife. Let me restore your name.”

  She braced herself against his shoulders. He pressed his hands forward, upward, inching his way to her most private area. She did not protest when he cupped her center through the flimsy layer of fabric. Her need matched his. Boldness and appetite took over as he stroked her wetness.

  A low sound rushed from her lips. “My lord. You can’t. No one can re—restore my name. It’s too late.”

  She was on the verge of climax and he hadn’t even dipped a finger inside her. Good God, she was so responsive. Alex couldn’t hold back any longer. He kissed her full and deep. “I need you, Grace. You must stop me now, if you don’t want this.” Please God, let her not stop him. How would he ever manage? Alex held his breath and waited for her response.

  Her eyes clouded with need, but he refused to take her by force. She must want this also, or he would find some means of walking away from her.

  She looked deep into his eyes as she answered. “Do not—do not stop. Please. I need—I have no idea what I need, but for the love of God, don’t stop.”

  That was all the permission he needed. He pulled away from her to remove his coat and unfasten his breeches, ripping impatiently at the buttons. He laid his coat on a bed of grass and settled her atop it, then hastily undid her drawers, dragging them to her ankles and free from her body.

  This would be her first experience, but he couldn’t bear to hurt her more than necessary.

  He was erect to the point of pain. With his arousal free, he settled between her thighs, kissing her again and again. His shaft throbbed and pressed into her belly. She shuddered beneath the intimate touch of flesh against flesh.

  He suckled each of her breasts in turn to reignite the fire she had experienced earlier. “Grace, this will only hurt for a moment. I promise it won’t last.”

  She looked straight into his eyes, a fiber of trust discernible in her gaze through a miniscule cloud fear. Please let it be fear of the unknown. He’d never made a habit of deflowering virgins, so he could only hope that was the cause.

  He positioned himself at her opening and inched inside, glorying in the sensation of her tight walls surrounding him. Grace writhed beneath him and arched her hips to meet his, wrapping her legs around his body to pull him deeper. Alex couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He plunged forward, burying himself in her warmth.

  But found no maidenhead.

  Unable, even unwilling, to stop and think, Alex set the tempo. He withdrew and thrust inside her again, eliciting surprised gasps of pleasure from her. Within moments, she matched his pace. He became almost frantic to find release, but first wanted to help Grace to hers.

  She panted as he ground his hips against hers repeatedly. He hoped her sounds meant pleasure outweighed any fear or uncertainty. She couldn’t know, couldn’t understand, the release her body was fighting to experience. Reaching between them to stroke the swollen nub of her desire, he pressed on and increased the speed of his thrusts.

  Her breath quickened and grew ragged, and her muscles tightened around him. Alex kissed her again and captured her cry of ecstasy in his mouth. With one final drive, he found completion. Intense pleasure swarmed over him as his seed filled her.

  After a few moments, he realized he was pinning her to the ground, so he lifted off and moved to her side. He was still fighting to catch his breath as he tried to memorize everything about the moment. She was sheer perfection.

  When Grace said she had already been compromised, he never imagined she would have been compromised quite as thoroughly as this. Simply being caught alone with a man would have been enough to accomplish her ruin. He was determined to get to the truth of the matter.

  He searched her face for answers. She stared listlessly at the sky.

  Getting her to speak to him, to truly open up to him, felt like an impossible task at times. Some unknown man had taken her virginity and left her to face the scandal—and any other consequences—alone. How could any man could do such a thing and still call himself a gentleman?

  But she never mentioned him being a gentleman. She had never said anything at all about him. How could he know if she had consented, as she did with Alex, or if she was ravished?

  Dear God, not that. Never that.

  The fear in her eyes flashed to mind—not only from tonight, but since the first time he ever saw her. Fear attached itself to Grace like a vise. But how would he discover the truth? There must be some way to convince her to trust him, to speak to him, to tell him her secrets. He need only find the way.

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, hiding her beauty from him. Her shyness after their lovemaking drew him in even more. He stroked a finger down the side of her arm, wanting to comfort her, to hold her—anything to touch her again.

  She rolled away and gave him her back.

  He would have plenty of time to earn her trust. Grace would have to marry him now. He had been inside her. He had planted his seed in her womb. She could be carrying his child. She would be mad beyond repair to refuse him now.

  ~ * ~

  Grace lay still and stared at the starless sky. Clouds drifted like blankets overhead, blocking even the moonlight. Lord Alexander shifted at her side, and his gaze felt like it was boring holes through her. She had no regrets over what she had done. She couldn’t.

  He’d driven away two of her demons. Fears she didn’t even realize she had until they seized her in the throes of passion.

  But she had been terribly afraid she would never enjoy the act of lovemaking. She never expected to have a husband with whom to experience the act, other than possibly Lord Barrow. Perish the thought. And if not him, Grace would never marry. It was as simple as that, in her mind.

  No matter what her father thought of her, Grace would never resort to selling herself. So with no possibility of a husband, she had resigned herself to the fact that this act—the act of love—was one aspect of a woman’s life she would never encounter.

  However afraid she might be she would never share in the act of lovemaking, Grace had believed her other fear was more likely to hold true. She believed that if she ever took part in it, there would be no joy in it. She expected that, for her, it would always be filled with pain and fear. Her only possibility to e
xperience the marriage bed would be with Barrow. With him, there could only ever be fear. She had never imagined such sensations to be possible as what she experienced just now with Lord Alexander.

  She exulted in his touch. She could not remember a time in her life she felt as alive as she did when he coupled with her. Grace determined to never forget that moment. She would cherish it. It would be all she had of him, soon.

  No matter how much he protested, she couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t marry him. He deserved a wife above reproach, one who hadn’t been tainted by a man’s need for vengeance. One who was not considered a whore by her own father. His wife should bear his children, not those of another man. She should face her fears instead of running away from them.

  He slid a single finger over her arm. The contact was so gentle, so tender, it threatened to shatter her. She rolled away from him and fought tears. He couldn’t see her weakness. And she wouldn’t allow him to interpret it as regret. He needed to know nothing would change, even after what had just passed between them.

  “Grace?” Her name was scarcely more than a whisper on his lips. “Are you all right?”

  His concern washed over her like a wave. Why must the man be so good, so honorable, so tender? It would be much easier to continue as she must if he were a scoundrel, a licentious rake—if he were more like Lord Barrow or her father. She wanted anything but to cause him heartache.

  “I’m fine.” She fought to maintain a cool demeanor. She couldn’t let him see the truth.

  “Who was he, Grace? Who compromised you?” He slid a hand over hers, caressing her in comforting strokes.

  “I cannot say, my lord.” Lord Alexander couldn’t know. No one could know.

  He faced her again, pain etched on his brow. “Did he…? Were you ravished?”

  She controlled her reactions, careful not to let anything slip. “It is none of your concern, my lord.”

  His eyes flashed, and he rose to fasten his breeches. “None of my concern? How is it possible that the circumstances surrounding the compromise of my future bride are none of my concern?” he barked out. He paced across the garden lawn, trailing a string of curses in his wake.