“If he won’t, we’ll find somewhere else.” Will leaned over her and picked up his pocket watch from the bedside table and opened it. “There is no way in hell I’m living in that ice castle in Farleigh a moment longer than I must.”
Bridget smiled at his cursing. She had been startled on the first few occasions although she had grown used to it. Now she secretly enjoyed it. Will had never sworn in front of her before, nor in front of the family. It was clearly something he did in private. With his friends, perhaps. It pleased her that he had relaxed enough to speak freely with her.
They dined early, this time in the dining room downstairs after Will helped her dress, then caught the six o’clock train. They arrived in Southampton close to midnight and stayed in the railway hotel. It was another night of carefree bliss and heady couplings, which also pleased her, for she had feared that the delight of the three days in London would not be repeated.
When they were in public, Will was almost stiffly formal and proper in his behavior toward her. Bridget followed his lead and made sure everything she spoke was demure and polite and perfectly correct.
His stiff formality lasted only until no one could overhear or see them. If even the smallest private moment availed itself, Will capitalized upon it. He would press her up against the nearest wall and kiss her until she was breathless, while his hands stroked and squeezed and slid between buttons to tease. Or, if she was sitting, he would bend and kiss her, while his hand stole beneath her hems and found her ankle. From there it would slide up to her knee, or even higher if they were left alone long enough.
Once, his hand reached as high as the opening in her drawers. He slid it inside to tease and stroke, making her moan into his mouth, as her heart worked and her body gathered, ready to receive his exquisite pleasure. They had been on the train at that moment and alone in the first class compartment. The arrival of new passengers and the opening of the door caused Will to whirl away and shove the valise back into a better position in the rack overhead.
He bowed to the two matrons, who simpered and sat opposite each other by the door, leaving Will and Bridget at the other end of the compartment. Will sat on the other bench from Bridget and stared out the window until the station master’s whistle blew and the chuff of the engine heralded their departure. He didn’t speak and the two matrons did not either.
They were well past Twickenham when Bridget looked away from the windows and the night sky beyond, to see that Will watched her. His expression had not changed, yet his eyes were filled with heated…
Hunger, Bridget’s mind whispered. She shivered and tore her gaze away from his. If she continued to stare into his eyes, she would drown in them. She would forget where they were and would move toward him and do something inappropriate. It was bad enough ogling her husband in public.
She studied the seams on her gloves and traced the stitchery on the edges of her shawl, then counted lights as they whipped past the carriage windows, as the train shot past towns and villages.
She could not wait to reach Southampton. Hope soared in her heart. Perhaps Will intended that tonight be a repeat of the last three nights…
They were barely inside the hotel room and the door closed before Will locked it with a flick of his wrist. He pushed her against the door, as he had been doing to her all day. Only this time, he did not stop, not until her hoops were pressed up against her middle, her drawers eased open and Will pushed into her. He paused with a groan and swallowed, his eyes closed.
He took her right against the door, his body working while he held her still, so he could thrust in hard, heavy movements that were exactly what she needed, although she had not known it. It was as if he was making up time for the hours they had been forced to remain polite and apart.
After he came with a shudder and another deep groan, he carried her to the bed and dropped her on her back. Then he shocked her by bending to kiss her there—her clitoris, he had called it. His tongue worked against the nub, driving her crazy with need and breathless in her tight corset. It felt like the height of wickedness to be fully clothed, with her petticoat up around her shoulders while Will pleasured her in that indecent way. She came with a speed that shocked her as deeply as the power of the climax did.
Afterward, when she could move once more, Will helped her undress and pulled her into bed before she could put on her bedgown. He wrapped himself around her, both of them naked. They slept that way, neither of them moving, until he woke her in the morning in the delightful way he had, using his mouth and fingers and body to stir her senses to full alert.
Aware that the family might consider her with a critical eye—especially her mother—Bridget asked Will to help her dress, to ensure no button or loop remained free.
Will whipped away her corset and shook his head. “Don’t wear it today. You have no need of one, anyway. Your waist is barely a hand-span without the whalebones.”
“Will, I cannot. People will know.”
“How will they know, unless you tell them, or bend from the waist?”
She hesitated. No one could tell unless she betrayed her lack of corsetry by bending too freely. Will stuffed the corset into her valise and buckled it. “Just for today,” he told her. “Then you can go back to being prim and proper in those staid dresses of yours.”
She glanced at her traveling suit, hanging over the end of the bed. “Staid?” she repeated.
Will shook his head. “They’re fashionable and suitable for a maid. Only, now I know what lies beneath them, I can see how disguising they are. I’ve been completely blind—for years. So has every other fool on the ton who failed to woo you.”
Bridget’s heart gave a little flutter and warmth filled her middle. She let him buckle the valise while she worked her way into her traveling suit and hooked it closed.
They shared the compartment on the short journey to Brighton with a family of four. Everyone remained silent, although every time Bridget happened to glance at Will he was watching her with the same brooding, half-lidded expression as before. Her body responded. She was aware of her nipples pressing against the tweed of her jacket with nothing shielding them—not even a camisole, for Will had ruined hers.
Her composure jittered apart as she sat with stiff politeness, until her breath came fast and ragged and her body ached for his touch. She stared blindly through the window, trying to pull herself together and find calmness. It was ten o’clock on a Friday morning! How could she be thinking these things, wishing Will would act upon them, right here in public like this?
She shifted her thighs beneath her skirt, her nub throbbing with need. She didn’t dare raise her eyes to look Will in the face. It was bad enough that without lifting her chin, she could still see his knee encased in worsted wool, just inches beyond her skirt. She could trace his knee and the powerful line of his thigh, to where it met the other. His overcoat was unbuttoned and the jacket beneath, too, so she could see…
She swallowed and dropped her eyes hastily, for if she was not mistaken, a swollen mass pressed against Will’s trousers. His shaft—his cock, she corrected herself—was erect.
Bridget closed her eyes and prayed for the journey to be over.
The usual parade of hansoms and private hacks waited outside the station. Will waved one over and threw their pair of valises inside, then took her hat box and pushed that in too. Then he handed her up into the carriage, not with a decorous hand beneath hers. Instead, he gripped her waist and lifted her, until her foot landed upon the carriage floor and she could step inside.
Will climbed in and sat beside her on the seat as the cab rolled forward. He pulled the blinds down with a sharp tug.
As her heart thudded and her body leapt and fizzed, he unbuttoned her jacket and thrust his hand inside, then pushed the jacket back to expose her breast. He sucked the tip into his mouth, turning Bridget’s limbs to molten uselessness.
His hand pushed under her skirt and found the opening to her drawers and slid inside.
&nb
sp; Bridget closed her eyes and bit her thumb inside her glove, to stop herself from making any sound the driver might hear, as Will tortured her with his tongue and fingers. He did not stop until she writhed upon the seat, so close to the peak she wanted to beg him to give her the release but could not. Only then did he pause, making her whimper. When her breath slowed, he began again.
And again.
The carriage had turned into the grand drive to Marblethorpe when Will sat up, his smile wicked. He buttoned her jacket closed.
She sprawled on the seat, unable to catch her breath, even though she wore no corset and could take as deep a breath as she needed. She shuddered, too roused to control herself.
Will touched the end of her nose. “I will finish what I started, later. Remember that, when the family begins their demands for explanations.”
The carriage came to a stop. Footman called out. She heard them crunch across the gravel, heading for the carriage.
With strength she didn’t think she had, Bridget pulled herself into a decorous sitting position as the door opened.
Will tugged his coat closed and stepped out, then turned to hand her down. This time, he only offered his hand, as was proper.
* * * * *
The family did demand explanations, just as Will had predicted. There were four men and their wives living in the big manor, along with assorted children and occasionally, cousins and other relatives. Raymond and Natasha were the first to hurry into the drawing room, from the morning room and the big library at the far end of the house. Her mother had her arms out, wearing a woebegone expression. She squeezed Bridget with a hug that must surely shout to her mother that she wore no underthings.
Natasha said nothing, though.
Annalies, Elisa and Jenny arrived next, with Rhys and Vaughn close behind them. Jack hurried in a minute later, pulling on his jacket. He was the last of the men living in the house. Mairin did not appear.
They all surrounded Bridget and Will, all speaking over the top of each other. No one seemed angry although no one seemed pleased either.
Will held up a hand. Bridget jumped when his other hand settled on her waist. She could feel the heat of it through her suit. Was he reminding her of his promise?
“Everyone, shush,” Will said.
They fell silent.
“I’m sorry we didn’t warn you. I’m sorry we didn’t invite you or make it a formal proper occasion for you. We didn’t want to wait.”
“Jack told us you were married in St. Paul’s,” Natasha said. Her eyes were glistening and Bridget felt guilt stir in her middle. “Oh, I do so wish I could have been there!” Her mother sniffed.
Will’s fingers pressed against her waist. That was definitely a reminder. Bridget drew a breath, calming herself.
Vaughn cleared his throat. “I suppose explanations can wait, can’t they? Congratulations are in order. I’m happy for you, son.”
Will took the hand Vaughn offered.
Natasha drew Bridget away from his side into the midst of the women. “Please tell me that is not the dress you wore to your wedding, my darling?” she begged.
“It hardly matters, does it, Natasha?” Aunt Annalies observed, looking at Bridget’s mother over the top of her glasses. “The marriage is the thing.”
Elisa picked up Bridget’s hand. “Oh, Annalies, you were married in the chapel at St. Paul’s, too, don’t forget!”
Startled, Bridget glanced at her aunt, as Annalies smiled, dimples appearing in her cheeks.
Elisa shook Bridget’s hand. “Now you are really, truly our daughter,” she said softly. “Not just a precious cousin.” She kissed Bridget’s cheek. “You have united the family,” she whispered.
“When she swore she would never stoop to it,” Natasha added. “Why did you not tell us about Will, my darling? You could not have warned us, at least?”
Bridget looked helplessly over her shoulder toward Will, wishing he was here to intervene. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lie to her mother and Elisa and Annalies. She could never speak the truth, though. It was too humiliating and too scandalous.
Will spoke with his father, while Jack and Jenny stood listening. Rhys and Raymond stood by the big sideboard talking softly, while Collins poured champagne. Over Vaughn’s shoulder, Bridget saw Will’s gaze slide toward her. His expression didn’t change, yet Bridget found comfort in that single glance. He had not abandoned her.
She looked back at her mother again. Startled, she realized that all three women were examining her, that they had watched her seek out Will with her gaze.
Natasha drew in a deep breath and let it out again. “Oh, I am so happy for you, Bridget!”
Annalies’ smile was wide and touched with amusement, while Elisa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Astonished, Bridget stared at the three. What had they seen that she had not, that had made them abandon their demands for explanations?
The chatter in the drawing room lasted until luncheon was called. Everyone moved into the dining room, still chatting gaily. Bridget had been unable to drink any of the champagne, for her hand shook too much to hold the glass. Will’s gaze found her wherever she was in the room and regardless of who she was talking to. His eyes would burn blue fire for a heartbeat or two, then he would turn away again, leaving her a trembling mess.
Bridget did not know how she would get through lunch and the afternoon and the evening yet to come. She forced her legs to cooperate enough to move across the room to the hall beyond, with its stained glass windows and pools of color on the floor. For a January day, the sun was unusually clear and bright, although it imparted no warmth.
Will lingered behind the others, waiting for her to catch up, no doubt, so he could remind her yet again of his power over her.
The thought sparked off another and formed an idea. Before she could reconsider, Bridget put the champagne glass down on the end of the sideboard with an unsteady thud. She grabbed Will’s sleeve and turned him around, then pushed him up against the big pillar that bordered the opening into the hall.
Will was far stronger than her but let her move him about. He looked down at her with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Bridget didn’t feel like smiling. Her heart was racing with her own daring as she fumbled with trembling hands at the buttons on Will’s trousers and pushed her hand inside. She found the opening of his drawers and beneath, his cock, which was beating and stiff just as she suspected it would be. She stroked it the way he liked, the way that left him groaning and breathless on the bed when she was done.
Bridget looked into his eyes. The heat was there although his amusement had fled. “Someone will see,” he breathed, his voice strained.
“Your back is to the hall. All they will see is your shoulder and that I am talking to you,” Bridget assured him.
He swallowed, his eyes closing. “Bree…” He drew in a sharp breath, his chest hitching. “Stop. Stop it. Now.”
She watched his face as she worked her hand along his length. She had watched his face while pleasuring him more than once and knew the signs. When he shifted against the pillar, his jaw clenched and the furrow appeared between his brows, she withdrew her hand.
“Will, are you coming?” Aunt Elisa called.
Bridget looked around the pillar while Will shuddered, his breath ragged. “We’ll be right there, Aunt Elisa.”
Elisa smiled and went back to the dining room.
Bridget fastened Will’s buttons. He didn’t move. The pulse in his neck jumped and throbbed.
“We help each other, remember?” Bridget reminded him. She glided into the dining room, the small smile he had been wearing now turning up the corners of her own mouth.
Chapter Seven
A week later, Will took Bridget to Kirkaldy, along with a single trunk of her clothes. All her possessions would be transported to Scotland later, for once Will had confronted the family with the fact of their marriage, he was impatient to le
ave again. In the week that Vaughn insist they stay at Marblethorpe, Will seethed over the inactivity. He went shooting with friends, including the sharp-eyed Lord Bedford, who bowed over her hand with exaggerated courtesy.
Will also spent evenings in Brighton. Bridget could only assume he was with the same friends. He would return late at night, sometimes after midnight, wreaking of cigars and spirits, to slide into their borrowed bed and press himself against her.
The first night he did so, Bridget pretended to be asleep. His body and his hands and his mouth were persuasive and impossible to resist, though. She sighed, her excitement building as he stripped her of her nightgown. In the moonlight, he would spread her arms and legs and tease her until it was impossible to remain still. Then he would slide into her and thrust until they were both trembling and weak with the pleasure.
Afterward, he slept. He did not draw her into his arms. He did not talk, not even the ribald conversation that had at first shocked her and reduced her to giggles. Bridget realized the brandy was responsible for his almost instant lapse into unmoving slumber. When they were at Kirkaldy and Will could resume the life he seethed to return to, then perhaps he would be as he was during the three days in London that she now realized had been her honeymoon.
During the day, while Will walked the grounds or rode or went shooting with his friends, or any of a dozen other activities that were always out in the crisp, icy January weather, Bridget sought her mother and asked her to help Bridget acquire a new wardrobe.
Brighton had fashionable stores although nothing in them satisfied Bridget. After three stops at the largest of the stores, Natasha closed the door of the carriage and settled her hands on her lap. “If you could tell me what it is you seek, Bridget, perhaps that would shorten the search. It seems you have a specific requirement that fashion is not meeting.”
Bridget pressed her lips together. “I’m not entirely sure what I am searching for, but yes, there is something…” She hesitated. “Will said I hide beneath my dresses. I no longer want to hide, Mother. Can you help me? Do you know what he means?”
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