A short while later, he settled into his favorite chair with a generous portion of brandy and a roaring fire for company. He watched the flames dance about as they licked the dry wood, a hungry devouring force. He nursed his brandy, having learned long ago that too much alcohol left him incapacitated, and not enough alcohol allowed the dreams to filter in. As in life, maintaining a delicate balance would see him through the night.
The warmth of the brandy paired with the fire to lull him into a drowsy stupor that soon led him to sleep.
He traipsed through the blackness until the glow of a flame drew his gaze. His heart twisted as he suddenly found his shirt sucked to his chest, soaked from the chill water of the river while the eerie glow of burning boats lit up the dark, early-morning sky.
Bullets sailed into the water as women screamed and men cried out in agony. Then a hand reached out of the horror and latched onto him. An unfamiliar face, but a soldier as well, the stranger searched the bodies for survivors. It appeared he was the first survivor found by the soldier. Together they made their way into the deep grasses along the bank and hid.
Stone clung to the unknown soldier as the horror unfolded around them. Helpless. Beyond control. A coppery tang hung in the air and blended with the musky odor of rotting vegetation. The dawn sky dripped a hideous red as the wretched sounds of death echoed and magnified, even as blood flowed all around. With each hack of a sepoy blade, another scream rose into the cacophony until Stone wished he, too, was dead.
A cry rent the air and jerked him awake. With a sleep-fogged sweep of the room, he found the fire had burned to coals in the predawn dark and his brandy glass lay on its side on the rug. His shirt clung to him, a sweat-soaked second skin that sent a shiver through his form as the cool air skimmed over him.
After setting his toppled glass on the sideboard, he trudged up to his room. Most nights were bearable, but when he had a bad night, he found little in the way of comfort or rest. Tonight was obviously going to be a bad night. And the unrest seemed directly related to his bride-to-be. Could he marry someone who stirred his personal demons so thoroughly? Someone who tempted him so mercilessly? Made him want things no sane man should want from his wife?
Chapter 4
Over two weeks past her quarterly review with her man of affairs, Mr. Harrington, Theo sent him an early-morning missive to arrange a meeting. The need to escape her mother’s unrelenting campaign to finalize the wedding details had become an imperative. While Theo was content to marry Stonemere, she had little interest in the infinite details that made such an event possible. That was her mother’s area of expertise.
Young William, a groom, escorted her to the tidy but small office of her solicitor. Once ensconced, she reviewed each investment’s progress and the appropriate balance sheets. Only then would she consider the topic of any new business opportunities.
As they wrapped up the day’s business, Mr. Harrington scooted around his desk to escort her out of his office, as he always did.
She tugged on her gloves. “Thank you again for a job well done, Mr. Harrington.”
He nodded. “You’re very welcome, my lady. I certainly hope you and Lord Stonemere continue to be pleased with my efforts on your behalf.”
Theo stopped and turned to look at her man of affairs. She drew in a slow, deep breath and strove for a calmness she no longer felt. “I’m sorry, have you met my intended, the Earl of Stonemere?”
The little man hesitated and sighed, defeat writ plain across his face. “I’m afraid I have met him, my lady. I fear now that you will be quite cross with either him or myself.”
“Please explain, Mr. Harrington.” She focused on a spot just past the man’s shoulder on the wall. It would not do to cause him distress at what she was certain was Stonemere’s gall.
“The Earl of Stonemere visited me last week. He reviewed your portfolio and gave his nod of approval.” He shifted from one foot to the other, popping in and out of her peripheral vision.
“I see. Well, thank you for accommodating my future husband.” She damn near choked on the words as she turned on her heel and departed.
As she climbed into her father’s cabriolet and nodded at her driver, she fumed. Stonemere’s interference was not to be borne. It was too much to ask. She had told him as much at the Devonses’ ball, but he seemed to be unconcerned for her feelings on the matter.
Now to find the meddling man. “William, to White’s please.”
The man stared at her. “Excuse me, my lady, but I am certain were I to take you to a gentleman’s club, your father would dismiss me out of hand and with no references.”
“If you do not take me there this instant, I shall dismiss you out of hand and with no references,” she snapped at the poor man, but her fury had surged past all bounds of politeness.
“Yes, my lady.” He all but hung his head and directed the horses toward St. James’s Street.
As her vehicle pulled to a stop in front of White’s, Theo hopped down from her perch without waiting for assistance, no easy feat with all her skirts, and proceeded to knock on the front door. Had she thought Stonemere stodgy? The old man who answered her summons gave all new definition to the word. He made her fiancé seem footloose and fancy-free. “Yes?”
Theo wanted to huff and push past the ancient artifact, but instinct told her that would not be wise. Instead, she summoned her haughtiest tone, one she had only ever used in mimicking her mother’s overbearing nature. “Please inform the Earl of Stonemere that Lady Theodora wishes a word with him immediately.”
Without a peep, the man shut the door in her face and—she hoped—went in search of Stonemere. If not at his club, where else might she find him at this time of day? His home would have to be her next stop. But after she’d paced a few minutes on the sidewalk, the great door of White’s opened again and spit out a rather annoyed Stonemere before being shut with a resounding thump. “What the devil is the meaning of this, Theodora? And how in the world did you find me?”
She flinched. When had she given him leave to address her so informally? “Finding you was no mean feat. You are a peer of the realm, and it is the middle of the day. If not here, you would most likely be home.” She waved a hand in the air in annoyance at such a silly question. She needed to get to her reason for hunting him down. “What the devil is the meaning of you sneaking around to snoop in my affairs?”
Stone sighed, then glanced at the overly curious men traipsing past on the way to their various clubs. “If you will wait one moment.” He disappeared back inside before she could object, and then, after a minute or two, reappeared with his coat and hat in tow.
He took hold of her arm and escorted her to the vehicle. He then lifted her up and sat her on the seat like a child before circling the rig. The nerve of the man was infuriating. She caught bits of a whispered conversation between her driver and Stonemere. Dismissed, insisted, and home were all she caught, but it was enough to know that her driver told him she’d threatened dismissal. Then Stonemere sent him home.
He climbed up next to her and picked up the reins. With a snap, they were moving down St. James’s Street and away from White’s. Before long, they arrived in front of her parents’ townhome.
“Why have we come here?” Theo fisted the skirts of her dress. With her fiancé’s rather notorious reputation, entering her home alone with him—she was fairly certain her parents were not in—could be a damning mistake. Granted, they were already engaged, but fantasizing about the man and actually acting on those fantasies were two different things altogether.
“If you wish to minimize any scandal beyond that of you pounding on White’s front door like a madwoman, I suggest you hop down and enter the building forthwith.”
The moment pulsed with words and thoughts unspoken. Fear and desire warred, until pride came to her rescue—or perhaps it merely helped her along to her doom. Time would tell. As soon as she stood, he swung her down and helped her up the steps of the front stoop. The butler took his
coat and her cloak. “Jenkins, please have a groom take the horses around back and give them a rest. I shall call for a cab when I require it. Are Lord and Lady Coleridge at home?”
“No, my lord, they are out this afternoon. Will that be all, my lord?” The man bowed and disappeared, leaving her alone with a too-quiet Stonemere.
“The front parlor. Now.” He marched toward the specified room without looking back to see if she followed.
By the time she arrived, he had settled himself on a couch with no room for her to join him. “My lord, I—”
“No, not yet. Close the door behind you and just stand there. I need a moment more to collect my thoughts.”
Theo stood silently, feeling more and more like a recalcitrant girl than an enraged woman. In the end, her temper exploded, and she disregarded his directions. “I went to see Mr. Harrington today and learned that not only had you sought him out, but you nosed into my affairs against my express wishes.”
“As I told you at the ball, I needed assurances you were not being led astray.” He resembled his name in more than a passing way as his jaw clenched.
For the first time, she noticed a throbbing vein that pulsed in his neck as he watched her. Well, she was angry, too. “And despite my assurances that I was no featherbrained girl, you went behind my back to do your own assessment.”
“As I said, if I am to allow you to retain ownership of all your holdings, I needed some assurances that you were managing things adequately, and that your man was trustworthy. I’ll not apologize for looking after your best interests.”
“I do not need you to look after my well-being.” She paced the length of the couch, her skirts brushing him on each pass.
She was forced to cease her movement when his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “I shall always take care of what is mine.”
The hard, implacable words annoyed her while also making her go all soft inside at the notion that he considered her his. How could she feel two such contradictory things at once?
Then he pulled her down into his lap and tipped her face up to his. Her heart beat frantically as her blood pounded through her body. Heat suffused her face and spread to her extremities. He leaned into her, their lips a breath apart. “Make no mistake, Theodora, you are mine.”
* * *
Stone kissed her. Somewhere in the course of their argument, he decided to lay claim to her. Right, wrong, or indifferent, she was his. Granted, he had never intended to make such a declaration, but out it came, and he would not deny the truth of his words.
As her lips opened to him, he plundered her sweet, warm mouth. He tasted her essence and sought out more. His cock throbbed as her bottom squirmed in his lap, and he thrust his tongue deeper, exploring the recesses of her mouth. More. Dear God, he wanted so much more, but he knew it would disgust her, the things he wanted to do to her and have her do to him in return.
Her arms twined about his neck until her fingers played in the fringe of hair at his nape to devastating effect. Chills raced down his spine as the embers of his need to be inside her flared to life and damn near scorched him.
He reached out and found a trim, silken ankle, and traced a path beneath her skirts. When he encountered warm unguarded flesh, he groaned into her rapacious mouth and pushed higher up her leg. But then she clamped her thighs down on his hand and pulled back. Her eyes were glassy with desire, but fear lurked in their depths. “S-Stone?”
“I’ll stop if you wish it. Say the word, Theodora. But I’d like to show you what pleasures lie ahead.” He all but growled the words. Stopping was not high on his list of desires at the moment, but stop he would.
Instead, her thighs relaxed as she released a breath. “Show me.”
And so his hand moved upward until he found the slit in her drawers, and then the warm, wet flesh of her cunny. And heavens above, was she wet.
He traced the abundant honey on her nether lips as he eased back on their kiss enough to allow her the opportunity to adjust to his presence. When she dove back into the kiss, he pressed into her sizzling heat, sinking one digit into her tight, virginal passage. His heart pounded, causing the blood to roar in his ears.
“Ouch”—she cried out in surprise when he added a second finger. Her channel clamped down on his invasion and her breath hitched. He waited a few moments as he shifted his lips to her jaw and kissed down to her neck. But then she arched up into his hand. “P-please.”
“Yes, Theodora? Please what? Tell me.” He groaned as he tasted the pale column of flesh along her pulsing jugular.
“That feels so…oh, don’t stop.” One of her legs had slipped off his lap, and she was spread out across him as he investigated her core, pumping his fingers in and out of her silken folds.
With a swoop, he circled her nub, and she nearly flew off his lap at the intense sensations he knew she experienced for the first time. Her innocent reactions left little doubt about her lack of sexual experience. But his future wife had a wanton streak that fed his own base desires.
Then she tensed in his arms, and he kissed her to swallow her cries of release as she shattered in his arms. The clench and release of her channel around his digits made his cock throb and his muscles go weak. Her pleasure stretched for what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few moments. As she returned to awareness, he pulled out of her heat—despite every nerve screaming to remain—and helped her sit up. What had he done? What had possessed him to do that to her? Mortification opened like a gaping maw and swallowed him whole.
“Stonemere?” She pushed her skirts down and shakily sought a seat on the couch next to him.
“Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you?” Shame you? Disgust you with my demands?
“Hurt me?” She laughed, a low sexy sound. “I’ve never felt anything so good in my life.” Then she glanced down at his lap and spied his rather noticeable erection straining the confines of his trousers. She bit her lush, kiss-swollen lower lip and appeared to come to some decision. “Wha-what of you?”
“Do not be concerned. I shall be fine as long as you are well,” he assured her. If she tried to touch him, to help him, he might consummate their marriage early. It wouldn’t do for the newly respectable Earl of Stonemere to ravish his bride before their wedding day.
“It looks painful.” Her whispered words of concern threatened to barge right past all his barriers and lodge themselves in his heart, not to mention steal his tenuous control.
In the nick of time, he deflected such sentiments and stood. “I should go. However, you should know I shall not cease to meddle in your business as I see fit. But I shall always try to discuss such business with you before I do so.”
The sheer mutiny that flashed across her prettily flushed visage warned him of rough patches ahead. How he had ever thought her cold or aloof and imagined they would have some polite, remote marriage, he couldn’t imagine now as she put herself back to rights.
“This is not over, Stonemere. My business is just that. Mine.” She rose and marched into the main hall. By the time he was able to tame his desire, and the resultant cockstand, she had disappeared into the depths of the house. As he made to leave, Jenkins magically emerged with his hat and coat. Stone stepped outside and decided the best way to work off his pent-up energy was to walk a bit. With thoughts of Theodora plaguing him, he walked and searched for his control.
Chapter 5
Three weeks later — June 1860
Since the recitation of their vows that morning, Stone had barely spoken to Theo. Nerves stirred again as he glanced at the brave face she had pasted on upon their arrival at the wedding breakfast her parents were hosting. Despite the tension around her eyes, he assumed most of their guests wouldn’t notice it, or would chalk it up to bridal nerves as she smiled and welcomed all their well-wishers.
Concern filtered past his walls until he asked, “How are you holding up, Lady Stonemere?”
Her cheeks flushed an enticing shade of pink. “I am fine, Lord Stonemere
.”
“Good. I believe these are the last of our guests and we may take our seats soon.” He nodded at the group of arrivals just entering her parents’ foyer.
Stone watched his bride beam at each guest and wondered how much longer they would be required to indulge their company. The last group filed past until they stood alone in the dark-paneled entry hall. The impulse to take her there and then, feed off her vitality, soak up her liveliness, and mark her as his lanced through him. He burned to stretch her out across his bed, bind her to it, and make her scream her pleasure. Yet he knew to use her thusly would at best shock her and at worst send her screaming from their breakfast.
Without any indication of his filthy thoughts, he tucked her delicate hand into the crook of his arm and led her into the dining room to their table. What kind of man desired to use his wife in such a coarse manner? Did his need to command her body and soul stem from some cancerous mass that tainted his own soul?
“Regrets so soon, my lord?” She watched him warily as she sipped champagne from a delicately etched crystal flute.
“Regrets? No.” He frowned, confused by her query.
“Then you may wish to consider schooling your features when you look at me, or our guests may be led to believe that you intend to whisk me away and thrash me as opposed to ravish me like a dutiful bridegroom.” She set her glass down and smiled sweetly at him.
Chagrined at being caught out by his bride, he dug deep to smooth his features and shut down his lecherous line of thought. Casting his most devastating smile in her direction, he took her hand and carried it to his lips. Skin against…moleskin. A strong reminder that his wife was a lady, not a prostitute, or even a widow. And yet his desire refused to abate.
His Hand-Me-Down Countess: The Lustful Lords, Book 1 Page 4
