by Emma Wildes
“I’m not getting married in five minutes.”
“In my place, what would you say?” It was difficult to not sound defensive.
“I’m not in your place, dammit, I’m on the other side of this bloody equation, and yes, fidelity in marriage is no longer an abstract concept when it comes to my sister. Think about it, would you? I mean you left early for your last extended trip because you were embroiled with Babcock’s young wife. As it was, there was still a scandal over it, you just happened to conveniently be in Morocco.”
“You know as well as I do she wanted him to find out about our affair so he would challenge me to a duel. When I realized the lady’s plan, it’s true, I decided it was best to go ahead and take the journey I had planned anyway a few weeks earlier.” Ross added with cool vehemence, “Danielle may want rid of the cold bastard, and I can’t blame her for that, but I wasn’t going to kill him for her no matter how charming and vastly accommodating the manner of her persuasion. Being her lover was one thing, her assassin something else entirely. I’m a far better shot and two decades younger, so it would have been closer to murder than a fair fight if Babcock had issued a challenge. And by the way, she disregarded her vows, I was completely free. That’s an entirely different matter and you know it.”
“Perhaps, but old habits are difficult to discard. Cassandra has been my responsibility for the past five years, so it is my duty to worry about her.” Frustration colored Tim’s words.
“Well, I’m about the relieve you of that responsibility. Shall we go inside?”
“I don’t know.”
What the devil is this?
Ross felt irritated at having to defend himself, much less the unwanted memory of being manipulated— almost—by the very beautiful and equally desperate Lady Babcock. Had he known his skill with a dueling pistol had been his main allure, he would never have touched her. Apparently he was going to pay for that error in judgment again.
Tim actually looked like he was not going to walk out there with him. Instead, he paced in front of the doorway, tall in his elegant dark clothes, his face taut. “I told Cassie she had no choice. Maybe that was the wrong way to handle this whole thing. We could wait and see if she’s pregnant. If she isn’t, then we could adjust our thinking.”
Ross stared at him. “You’re joking. I’m not about to compound my initial injury to Cassandra by suddenly changing my mind when she’s actually waiting for me in the church. I seduced her, but at least I haven’t publicly humiliated her, which is what you are suggesting.”
After a moment, Tim gave a long ragged laugh that had no humor in it. “I suppose you’re right. Jesus, I’m more nervous than you are.”
Ross wasn’t completely sure of that, but at least his anxiety was balanced by a certain sense of real anticipation. The coming night held a decided appeal. He said, “Let’s go inside, shall we? I believe my bride is waiting.”
* * * *
Well, at least that’s over, Cassandra thought as she slid her arms into her dressing gown and sat down to brush her hair. It wasn’t that the wedding had been horrible or anything, quite the contrary. Ross had gone to considerable trouble and expense to make sure the small chapel was decorated beautifully and full of hot house flowers. The celebration dinner afterwards, held in the grand dining room had been a lavish repast complete with seven courses and flowing champagne. Though he’d said there wouldn’t be many guests, Cassandra still thought the crowd in attendance was large, and she’d known very few of them.
It had been intimidating and it was just the start, at a guess.
Tim was right, her new husband apparently had a great many friends. His family, also, seemed to consist of numerous cousins and aunts and uncles and most of them were staying overnight. Winterton Hall was a huge Elizabethan style structure, and though she’d been there once or twice before, she didn’t remember it being so vast. The guest rooms were in a different wing entirely, Ross had said casually, so having so many people stay shouldn’t disturb them in the least.
Disturb them. She had a fairly good idea what he meant by that and it made her face heat a little.
The room she’d been given was certainly large, the furnishings a little heavy for her taste, but the pale blue and creamy yellow color pallet was pleasing. There was a lovely fireplace, overlaid by ivory tile. The carpet was soft and thick underfoot, and the bed was large and very feminine with carved roses on the posts and embroidered silk hangings.
There was also a door that led not into the hallway, but into another bedroom.
Ross’s bedroom.
Cassandra sat and looked at it, wondering if he would expect her to go to him, or if he would visit her for his conjugal rights in her room.
A soft knock made her jump nervously, the hairbrush falling from her hand. Bending to retrieve it, she realized when it came again it was from the other door, the one into the hall. Of course, she thought with chiding amusement, it was pretty doubtful Ross would knock. She had a feeling her handsome, confident husband would simply walk on in whenever he wished. When he had whispered in her ear that he thought it was time for her to go upstairs, he had said he wouldn’t be up for an hour. It was a little too early to be him.
Not sure just who would come knocking on her door on her wedding night, Cassandra went to answer it. To her surprise, Ross’s mother stood outside, a small apologetic smile on her face. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” Cassandra said with a small stammer, stepping back.
The dowager Viscountess Winterton was a slender woman in her early fifties, still lovely in a fragile sort of way. She had graying hair but her eyes were the same vivid blue that she bestowed upon her son. Even though due to a progressive illness she walked with a cane, there was a certain vitality about her that was unmistakable. Mary Benson ambled over to a small chair upholstered in blue velvet and sank down, leaning her cane lightly against her knee. “Forgive my intrusion. I am sure you have other things on your mind than having a conversation with your mother-in-law, my dear, so I won’t stay long.” It was easy to see where Ross got his easy charm for her smile was very disarming.
Cassandra sat down on the side of the bed and shook her head. “You are not intruding.”
“It’s your wedding night, so of course I am, but you are a charming child and would never say so.” Her gaze traveled over the silk robe that Cassandra had put on and back up to her face. “You look so lovely, but perhaps a little flushed. Are you frightened?”
If she was flushed before, Cassandra could feel her cheeks growing more scarlet. “Frightened is the wrong word.”
“Your mother isn’t here, and your aunt, though a wonderful woman, has never married. Do I need to explain what you should expect?”
The older woman was being very kind, but oh God, if there were any way to have the floor open up and swallow her whole, Cassandra wished it would happen. However, she was not a proficient liar, so she shook her head. “No, I know what’s going to happen.”
“Exactly?” It was asked delicately.
Cassandra swallowed in embarrassment. “Exactly.”
“I see. You carry that air of innocence, so I wasn’t sure. Ross didn’t exactly explain the reason why he decided to marry so hastily, but now I understand,” his mother said with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Considering how beautiful you are, I suppose I am not completely surprised. Though, I do have to say he usually avoids eligible young women and I’ve certainly never known him to dally with one. In truth, I didn’t think he would marry for at least a few more years.”
“I’m fairly sure he thought the same thing.”
The older woman looked a little amused at her despondent tone. “Needless to say, I’m delighted and not just because he’s finally married, but in his new bride.”
A little surprised, Cassandra blinked.
Her mother-in-law lifted her brows. “I hadn’t seen you since you were a child, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Except for your exceptional beaut
y, you are not at all like the women my son usually selects in a romantic way. In fact, you are a far cry from the sophisticated worldly ladies he favors.”
“It has been pointed out to me.” Cassandra gave a small grimace, remembering her talk with Timothy. “The fact I am not what Ross would choose in a wife isn’t exactly reassuring.”
“On the contrary,” Mary Benson said with conviction in her voice, “you are perfect. He’s grown jaded and restless, I have seen it happening. It’s why he travels so often, and why he chooses women with the same blasé attitude toward life. What he needs is to fall deeply in love and settle down. You are fresh and lovely, without all the superficial affectations so common in the upper class. I hope he will see through your eyes that life does not have to be a cynical game of detachment.”
“He didn’t particularly want to marry me,” Cassandra admitted in a small voice, still not sure if she should be elated she was Ross’ wife, or if she had just embarked on a disaster that would break her heart. “He felt he had to…after what happened.”
“Don’t you see? The fact something happened at all is astounding considering how carefully he has always guarded his freedom.”
“Maybe.” Cassandra still felt doubtful.
“Nonsense, child, you touched something in him if he was reckless enough to even look at you. Besides, I saw the way he kissed you after your vows. Passion is a very good start, remember that.”
It was true, when the minister had given him permission to kiss his bride, Ross had certainly lingered over the process. His mouth had held hers for a length of time that bordered on scandalous and had brought chuckles from the crowd.
Hoping she didn’t sound pathetic and naïve, Cassandra murmured, “It would be nice if you are right, my lady.”
“It isn’t going to be easy, though, I am afraid. Your first task is going to be to convince him that emotional attachment is not a death sentence. Ross has never been forthcoming with his emotions and I am not certain love is a concept he is at all easy with accepting. He sees it as vulnerability, and even with me he is formal and dutiful rather than affectionate. Maybe it comes from losing his father at such an early age. They were very close and it was a devastating blow. Not only was he suddenly bereft, but a great deal of responsibility fell on his shoulders. Unfortunately, he also came directly into his inheritance and the world is full of temptation for a young man with looks, title and fortune. Very quickly he became disillusioned, and probably with some good cause. Women offered themselves because of his nobility, his money, and his looks. The day he knows someone loves him for what he is, not what he has, I think he will change his entire outlook.”
After that dissertation, Lady Winterton got painfully to her feet. “Well, good night. I think Ross would be disappointed to find me here.” She laughed lightly and hobbled toward the door. In a moment, it closed quietly behind her.
Cassandra’s heart beat faster and her palms were suddenly damp. Her mother-in-law’s words were encouraging, but a little daunting. How did one set about making someone fall in love with them? She certainly had no experience with men and Timothy was right, she wasn’t at all flirtatious.
Passion is a very good start. Maybe that was the key to something deeper between them.
“You certainly seem deep in thought, Cassie.”
The sound of the cool voice made her head snap up. She hadn’t even heard him open the door joining their rooms. Ross strolled in, still dressed except for his jacket and cravat, looking devastatingly handsome with a small smile hovering around his well-shaped lips. Cassandra stammered, “I was…just…waiting for you.”
“That’s nice to hear.” He came closer, to where she still sat on the side of the bed, the sexy smile widening a little and a predatory gleam in his blue eyes. “I like the notion of you waiting for me in bed, Cassie. Notice how early I am. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Surely she should have a clever reply. Something seductive perhaps, to match his smooth, amused tone.
Instead, she sat there, tongue-tied and gauche, as he began to undress.
* * * *
It felt a little like he was the proverbial wolf, stalking the wide- eyed doe. His young wife sat perched on the side of the bed, wearing a cream-colored robe, her golden hair a loose tumble over her shoulders and down her back, staring at him with a hint of alarm in her lovely hazel eyes.
She looked deliciously available. Finally. He’d waited all week for this moment.
This afternoon she had been dazzling in a modest light blue gown, her gleaming hair caught up simply, her only adornment a small string of pearls that had belonged to her mother. When he had stood at the altar and watched her come toward him, he’d felt unexpectedly moved, both by her beauty and the fact she was gifting her life into his care.
During the ceremony, when he had recited his vows and took her in his arms to kiss her, he’d felt that same undeniable desire that had gotten him in trouble in the first place.
Perhaps he didn’t particularly want a wife, but he wanted her sexually, that was for certain.
Tonight he was going to indulge that lust.
Cassandra watched him unbutton his shirt with what he recognized as trepidation in her expression. He’d wondered if she’d be nervous despite what had happened between them already. One sexual encounter didn’t exactly make her experienced.
Ross suggested, “Why don’t you take off your robe. Quite frankly, I want to look at you when I can remember every detail.”
For a moment she didn’t move, then she obediently slid to her feet and undid the sash. Predictably, she wasn’t wearing an enticing negligee underneath but instead a simple lawn nightdress that made her look innocent and young.
“You may no longer be a virgin, but you certainly look like one, my sweet.” Ross grinned, he couldn’t help it. “Why am I not surprised you aren’t wearing something designed to bring me to my knees.”
Cassandra wrinkled her brow, obviously puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind, I like it.” He laughed lightly. It would not occur to her to try and look seductive, she just wasn’t that way. She would never look like a courtesan anyway, not with all that shining pale hair, flawless ivory skin, and those long-lashed wide eyes. Come to think of it, he didn’t want her to even try. Yes, he’d enjoyed plenty of worldly women who knew exactly how to dress and act to entice and arouse a man, but in a wife, he found he preferred the notion of purity and modesty on his wedding night.
Now that was an unexpected revelation in a cynical roué like himself.
Besides, Cassandra apparently didn’t need a sultry gown to arouse him. He was already hard, just from being in the same room with her and a convenient bed. Discarding his shirt on a nearby chair, he sat down to remove his boots. With just his tailored breeches on, he walked the few paces to where she stood. His arms slid around her slender body and pulled her close. “Kiss me,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “Don’t be so tense. We’ll start slow, I promise.”
Her heart beat wildly; he could feel it as she lifted her arms around his neck and complied. The softness of her luscious breasts pressed against his bare chest through her thin gown and he stifled a low groan of sheer need, clasping her even closer. Her mouth was sweet and warm and receptive.
Go easy, he cautioned himself, resisting the urge to plunder her mouth with uncharacteristic impatience. Instead he slowly stroked and seduced, finding every corner, skimming her smooth teeth and tasting the corners of her lips as he simply held her in his arms. She relaxed as he hoped she would, and the light sensation of her slim arms around his neck tightened a little. There was little question of whether or not she could feel his erection and when she rubbed slightly against him, he broke the kiss in a gasp. “That’s probably not a good idea, Cassie, but I agree entirely with the sentiment. Here, I need to see all of you.”
Quickly, he laid her down on the bed and joined her. Propped on one elbow, he slowly undid the small bow at th
e neck of her gown. The material gaped open and he pulled it apart to view the firm swell of her beautiful breasts, her nipples already hardened into small perfect pink buds. His hand slid between the parted cloth to find resilient flesh. “I do remember these,” he said huskily, fondling her.
“Ross.” His name was a sigh. Framed in the glorious tumble of her silken hair, her lovely face was tinted slightly pink with what was probably embarrassment, but she didn’t object to the gentle caress of his fingers. Quite the contrary, his lovely bride arched into his hand, thrusting her nipple against his palm in a sensual movement of her body that sent fire spiking through veins.
Innocent she might be, but also definitely passionate. Perfect.
He was damned glad she liked him touching her for he planned on touching her everywhere. Often.
With a tug, he pulled the pristine nightdress lower and removed it completely. Nude, Cassandra was certainly more alluring than his liquor-fogged memory recalled. Voluptuous, but long-legged and slender, she shut her eyes in evident shyness as he stripped her.
Her lashes lifted abruptly when he trailed a slow finger down her body and through the soft dark gold curls between her legs. The delicate lips of her labia were damp and infinitely tempting. Ross gave her a deliberately wicked smile. “I remember this, too.”
Cassandra made a small sound as he found the small nub of her clitoris and lightly circled it. Breathlessly, she said, “You seem to remember a lot all of a sudden.”
“My memory is inspired, I think. I know you liked this.”
Her legs parted slightly to allow him more access. “Yes,” she admitted.
If there was one thing he recognized, it was that particular reedy, thin note in a woman’s voice. Parting satin flesh, he expertly stroked her cleft, pleased she was already damp so quickly. Ross slid a finger deep inside her vagina and felt the amazing tightness with a small frown. “Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, feeling an unsettling guilt as he gently explored the vulnerable, delicate tissue. Virgins were not his normal fare, in fact, he hadn’t bedded one since he was a very young man. Somehow he doubted in his inebriated state he’d been sensitive to her physical innocence. “I don’t suppose I was careful as I should have been the other night. You’re very small.”
