The Lady In Question

by Victoria Alexander

  “And I am quite glad you are.” Delia grinned. “This time.”

  In word and length, the ceremony had been precisely like her first wedding. Indeed, Delia thought the clergyman in attendance looked eerily familiar and wondered if he had also presided over her marriage to Charles, although it could well be nothing more than the nerves cavorting in her stomach, an overactive imagination and the fact that she thought all clergymen had the same appearance about them.

  But the tone of the event had been entirely different. Certainly she’d been excited when she’d married Charles, but she’d had few expectations of the future and more than a few qualms regarding the reaction of her family as well as that of society as a whole. Now she didn’t care whatsoever about society. Her family was by her side and her expectations for the future were boundless.

  Today, when she’d promised to cherish Tony for the rest of her days and he’d vowed the same, she was gripped with an awesome sense of joy. Today, the man she’d married was the man she loved. Today, she was happy and knew in her heart she would be happy tomorrow as well.

  Across the room, Tony was engaged in a conversation with Leo and both men presented the appearance of cordiality. It was a good sign. She hadn’t spoken to any of her brothers before the ceremony — indeed, she hadn’t spoken to any of them since she’d returned from Effington Hall — but was fairly certain they had, each and every one, placed Tony on a sort of masculine probation.

  “Come, now, Cassie, you have an opinion. I should like to hear it.”

  “I don’t know why, I daresay you’d pay no attention to it. And at any rate, it’s too late now. You are married. Again.” Cassie studied Tony for a moment. “And he doesn’t look like he’d be the type to conveniently die on you.”

  “Cassie!”

  “If you don’t want my honest opinion, you shouldn’t ask for it. Oh, very well.” Cassie sighed. “I don’t know if this is another mistake or not. I do know you love him, which raises the stakes considerably.” She met her sister’s gaze directly. “And if he loves you as well — and I rather suspect he does, given how quickly he wanted to marry you when he certainly could have continued to share your bed without benefit of marriage —”

  “Cassie!” Delia hissed. “Do keep your voice down.”

  “This from the same person who declared she wanted to become a woman of experience?” Cassie snorted. “Obviously, such a thing was not in your nature. That said, it’s probably for the best that you married the first man you —”

  “Cassie,” Delia warned.

  “Fell in love with.” Cassie smiled sweetly, then sobered. “I simply want you to be happy. And if St. Stephens can make you happy, then he has my approval.” She glanced at Tony and a wicked gleam sparked in her eye. “He certainly is handsome enough.”

  “Isn’t he, though?” Their mother stepped up from behind and linked her arm through Delia’s. “Looks aren’t everything, but I’ve always thought it wiser to spend one’s days with a handsome man than one you would prefer not to gaze on in the light of day.”

  “Mother!” Delia laughed.

  “I’m simply being practical, dear. Spending your entire life with an ugly man would, no doubt, grow wearisome if he was the tiniest bit imperfect in other ways, as most men are. The Effington men, as a whole, are a handsome lot.” Her gaze settled on her husband and she smiled with satisfaction. “Your father is still exceptionally attractive. Why, I find even his increasing lack of hair only adds an air of distinction to his appearance.”

  “Perhaps you’re seeing him through the eyes of love, Mother.” Cassie studied her father. “Although he does seem to have aged well.”

  “Indeed he has, and I expect St. Stephens will age as well.” Georgina considered Tony with an assessing eye. “He should produce lovely children, Delia. Blood will tell, you know.” She squeezed Delia’s arm affectionately. “Beyond that, I find him to be of a pleasant and courteous nature.”

  “You approve, then?” Cassie said.

  “I do indeed.” Georgina nodded. “Even if I didn’t, your father does, and more importantly, the stars do.”

  Delia groaned. “Mother.”

  Georgina ignored her. “The moment I learned of this wedding yesterday, I sent for Madame Prusha. We consulted together the first thing this morning. She studied your stars, Delia, and says this marriage to this man was foretold. Furthermore, she agrees with me that her previous readings of the stars for you have been entirely accurate thus far. You should marry a man of mystery —”

  “Obviously, St. Stephens,” Cassie murmured.

  “— and suffer a great loss, which you needn’t worry about, as Madame and I have agreed it refers to Wilmont’s death,” Georgina said firmly.

  “Of course, Wilmont was a bit of a mystery as well,” Cassie pointed out.

  “And you should live the rest of your days in great happiness.” Georgina beamed at her daughter.

  Tony caught her eye from the other side of the room and smiled a private smile meant for her alone. Even from here she could see desire and indeed love in his dark gaze that quite took her breath away.

  “We’re sailing for Italy tomorrow,” Delia said, never taking her gaze from his. Tony said something to her brother, then started across the room toward her.

  “I am quite, quite jealous,” Cassie said.

  “Your time will come, dearest,” Georgina said firmly. “Madame had a few things to say about your life as well.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear them.” Cassie paused, then sighed in resignation. “Were they good?”

  Georgina laughed and Delia moved toward her husband.

  They met halfway across the parlor. She gazed up at him and the room and all its inhabitants faded away.

  “How are you faring, Lady St. Stephens?” Tony’s voice was low and intimate.

  “Why, Lord St. Stephens, how thoughtful of you to ask.” She drew a tremulous breath. “I am happy.”

  He raised a brow. “Just happy?”

  She laughed. “There is no just about happy, but if you prefer, I am insanely, gloriously, unbelievably happy. I can scarcely breathe with the joy of it.”

  “And I shall keep you happy for the rest of your days.” He took her hands. “Indeed, if I do not, your brothers have promised to kill me.”

  “Have they? How very thoughtful of them.” She pulled her brows together. “But what if I do not make you happy? Do I face no consequences if you are unhappy?”

  “There is no chance of that.” His voice was light, but his gaze searched hers. “Your very presence in my life is enough for my happiness. Even if, for some reason, you should ever despise me, I shall still be content knowing you are my wife. My love. Forever.”

  “Oh, my.” Her words were little more than a sigh.

  “Can we take our leave now? Have we fulfilled our responsibility to this vast family of yours to assure them we are well and truly wed? We have a great deal to do before we sail tomorrow.” He squeezed her hands and his dark eyes simmered with promise. “And a great deal to do tonight.

  “I’m afraid not.” She shook her head with genuine regret. “There is supper planned and my aunt has gone to a considerable amount of trouble, fear she’ll be offended if we leave before then.”

  “I’d wager the duchess will understand.”

  “Probably, but” — she shrugged helplessly — “we can’t go yet. My parents and my brothers and even —”

  “Never mind. I understand, and you’re right, of course. It would not be a wise move to abandon my first family occasion. I suspect these Effingtons are a demanding lot.”

  “They can be.” She laughed with relief. “And you are among their number now.”

  “I am a lucky man,” he said wryly. “However, if inclusion in your family is the price I have to pay for having you in my life” — he grinned — “it is a small price indeed.”

  “I believe I can make it worth your while.” Delia smiled slowly. “When this is over and we
have retired to my house.”

  “Oh?”

  “You see, Lady St. Stephens has never made love to her husband, Viscount St. Stephens, before.” She gazed into his eyes with all the desire he, and only he, could provoke. “It should be an exceptionally grand adventure.”

  Chapter 21

  Tony closed the door of her bedchamber — their bedchamber — firmly behind him and shook his head. “This was an exceedingly long day.”

  “Endless.” Delia waltzed to the center of the room and twirled around. “But lovely nonetheless. It was surprisingly nice to have my family around me. I have missed that.”

  “I know you have.” Tony slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the chair.

  “Did you find them too overwhelming?”

  “They are a rather intimidating force of nature.” He sat down and pulled off his boots. “Do you realize each and every male member of your family below the age of forty glared at me before, during and after the ceremony? If looks could kill, I should be quite dead.”

  “And that would be a great pity, my lord husband.”

  “I know I should regret it, my lady” — he stood and untied his cravat

  “Tony?” She absently twisted the new ring on her finger.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you take me to bed now?”

  He grinned. “That was my plan.”

  This was extraordinarily hard to say. She didn’t want him to think she hadn’t enjoyed every wonderful moment with him thus far. Their lovemaking was so much more than she’d ever expected. Still…“Are you planning on being, well, civilized about it?”

  His brows drew together. “What do you mean, civilized?”

  “What I mean to say is…” She wandered to the other side of the room, placing the blue sea of the bed between them. “Well, as you know I had planned on becoming a woman of experience.”

  “Yes?”

  “But thus far, that experience has only consisted of, well, you.”

  “Thus far and forever,” he growled.

  “That goes without saying, but I had expected this part of my life” — she waved at the bed — “to be a bit more…”

  “A bit more what?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you say exciting, that does not bode well for the rest of our lives together.”

  “I wasn’t going to say exciting. Being with you, every moment has been more than merely exciting. It’s been more than I ever imagined. It has well lived up to its potential. I just want tonight, our first wedded night together, to be…unique .”

  “Should I dress like a highwayman? You could be a runaway princess.” He wagged his brows wickedly. “I could take you at gunpoint.”

  “Gunpoint?” It wasn’t precisely what she had in mind. “Not tonight.”

  He laughed. “Then what do you want?”

  “I want you…” she drew a deep breath. “I want you to stop acting as if I were going to break. I want you to stop being so gentle and considerate and careful. Stop being so blasted nice.”

  “Wait just a moment.” His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I would call our lovemaking thus far especially nice. Remarkable is a better word. Indeed, I thought it was all exceedingly passionate and somewhat frenzied.”

  “It was remarkable, but —”

  “You seemed to enjoy it.” Indignation sounded in his voice.

  “Oh, I have. More than I can say but…Oh, this is not coming out right. I want you to…” She thought for a moment, “Lose control of yourself.”

  He snorted. “I have lost control. Several times. And with a great deal of enthusiasm.”

  “I want you to take me. I want you to be carried away with desire. I want you to be dangerous and wicked and” — she leaned forward and planted her hands on the bed — “I want you to rip my clothes off. I want to rip your clothes off.”

  He looked down at his shirt. “But this is my favorite shirt.”

  “And I am exceedingly fond of this dress, but…” She straightened. “You think I’m a tart now, don’t you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “But you’re offended.”

  “No.” He studied her thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m quite intrigued.”

  “It’s just that you’ve been such a…a…viscount. And I think, just for tonight, mind you, what I’d really rather like is” — she held her breath — “a spy.”

  “A spy,” he said slowly.

  “Good heavens.” Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She whirled away from him and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

  “You should be able to say anything to me.”

  “Even so. What you must think of me…”

  “I think” — his words were measured — “you’re the most exciting woman I’ve ever known.”

  She raised her head. “You do?”

  “And I think I am an exceptionally lucky man.”

  Without warning, the room plunged into darkness.

  “Tony?”

  “Spies operate best under cover of darkness.”

  “Do they?”

  “And this particular spy has been remiss in his duties.” His voice drew closer.

  She held her breath. “Has he?”

  “Apparently he has not fully shown you how much he wants you.”

  He grabbed her from behind and spun her into his arms. His lips crushed hers and for a moment she wondered if she had made a mistake. She started to throw her arms around him, but he caught her hands and held them tight.

  “Now, now, none of that.” His tone was mild, but there was an undercurrent that was decidedly wicked. And extremely exciting.

  Before she could protest, he wrapped something around her hands, binding them together. His cravat?

  “Tony?”

  “Quiet.” He picked her up and tossed her on the bed. She tried to scramble off, but he grabbed her and pulled her back, straddling her and pinning her to the bed. He drew her bound hands up over her head and tied them to the bed. A tremor of delicious fear shivered through her.

  “Tony?”

  “You wanted a spy.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “You wanted me to be dangerous and wicked. Well, you shall have it.”

  “Perhaps I was mistaken?”

  “We shall see.”

  He heard him leave the bed and heard the distinct sounds of him disrobing. Her heart thudded in her chest and she realized she did indeed want a bit of danger. At least once. And realized, as well, this man who had done so much to please her would never hurt her. She held her breath in anticipation.

  A moment later he was back on the bed. Again he straddled her, looming over her, nothing more than a dark silhouette in the night.

  “Tony, are you —”

  “I shall do precisely what I please, when I please.”

  He bent to kiss the hollow at the base of her neck and she stilled. He trailed his mouth up her throat and along the edge of her jaw to a spot right below her ear, then he nibbled the lobe of her ear. With her arms tied over her head, her breasts were thrust upward and outward like a pagan offering. He cupped them firmly and caressed them through the fabric of her gown. His tongue trailed down the length of her throat and lower to her cleavage, deepened by her position. He ran kisses along the top of her bodice and she squirmed slightly with her rising desire. Without warning, his hands moved to the neckline of her gown and ripped her dress and the chemise beneath it down to her waist. She gasped in shock and excitement. Cool air wafted over her. She was thoroughly exposed and altogether thrilled. His hands cradled her breasts and he took one in his mouth and it tightened with his touch. He held her nipple with his teeth and flicked his tongue to and fro until she moaned and strained upward. He turned his attention from one breast to the other and back until she writhed with pleasure, breathless with need.

  He moved downward to place his knees on either side of hers and clamp her legs together. Tony grabbed the remainder of her dress, her underclothing, and ripped them apa
rt, exposing her fully. He bent and kissed the valley between her breasts and trailed his mouth lower and lower still, tasting her, drinking her. He sat up and slipped his hand between her legs and she whimpered at the loss of his mouth on her skin, hot and sensitive and aching for his touch. He slipped his hand between her legs and she wanted to open them for him, but he held her fast. His hand and fingers stroked her, caressed her and carried her to a place of irrational, sightless need.

  Abruptly he moved, spread her thighs apart and knelt between her legs. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing patterns on her stomach and moving slowly, inexorably downward. He spread her open with his fingers and his tongue flicked over that most sensitive part of her. Shocking pleasure, intense and primitive, shot through her, and she cried out and a rational, thoroughly proper part of her mind noted this wasn’t the least bit proper and she should tell him to stop. She ignored it. Never had she imagined such delicious sin, at once terrible and magnificent, that pulsed and throbbed from his mouth on her. Fire pooled deep inside her and flared and burned, a mindless fever that grew and roared hotter and hotter until she thought surely she would burst into flames.

  Without warning, he stopped and she arched upward instinctively, seeking his touch. He planted his hands on either side of her and plunged into her, taking her as she had wanted. A declaration of possession and power and passion. She called out his name and pulled at her bonds and wanted to embrace him, but was unable to do more than revel in the power of his body joining with hers. She was helpless and he did as he wished with her and it was glorious.

  She moved her hips with his. Met his thrusts with a wanton eagerness that had nothing to do with her position or this wedding night game and everything to do with her heart. He was a part of her that had nothing to do with the joining of their bodies and everything to do with the merging of their souls. She no longer knew where he left off and she began, and no longer cared. Pure passion, sheer pleasure carried her higher with his every stroke, every thrust, until she thought she could bear it no longer, and still she would not have it stop. Until he moaned and thrust yet again and glorious release seized her and she exploded around him, with him, in wave after wave of magnificent sensation and sheer joy and absolute delight.