by Cheryl Holt
“Yes. Eugenia claimed they had to leave Wallace Downs and live with her again. It scared her.”
“I can imagine.”
“Eugenia has been alarming them too, insisting I’ll kick them out if they misbehave. They’ve been petrified they would commit a tiny infraction and I’d evict them.”
Abigail bristled. “What a witch! Who would deliberately frighten a child? Especially her own daughters!”
“She’s not right in the head, Abigail. I told you that. She hasn’t been for ages.”
“You shouldn’t let her meet with them again. Not even with permission. It’s obviously too difficult.”
“I promised Millie she won’t be back.”
“Good.”
Their banter dwindled, and the room grew quiet. Their bodies were pressed together from chests to toes. With her covered only by her robe, she was naked underneath. During their avid embrace, the belt had loosened so the lapels had widened and much of the center of her torso was visible.
It was a scandalously intimate position, and there was no doubt a decadent incident would occur unless she found her moral will and sent him away. If he stayed, what might they attempt? What would she allow?
She had a vague understanding of what occurred when couples were trysting. She’d heard many of the details from women with whom she’d worked. Men—and their masculine drives—had been a constant and fascinating topic frequently discussed in the kitchens and servant halls where she’d been employed.
The conduct involved nudity. Bodies joined in a physical way that could bring great pleasure, but also unwanted babies. Other than those general facts, she didn’t precisely grasp the particulars.
They were already quite far down the road to iniquity, and she needed to figure out what she was intending. Was she about to ruin herself? Was she that forlorn? Was she that desperate for his male attention?
She was terrified that she might be.
“Let’s talk about you and me,” he said as if he’d been reading her mind.
“What about us?”
“I’m moving you and the twins over to the manor.”
“Oh, Alex, should you?”
“Yes. They should have been with me all along, and I won’t have them languish over here another minute. It’s Faith’s home, and I keep inflicting people on her without asking. With her being so upset over Price, I should treat her a little better.”
“Yes, you should, but how can that justify my moving into the manor?”
“I informed you, didn’t I, that I applied for a Special License?”
She sighed. “Yes, you did.”
“A messenger delivered it this afternoon so we can marry tomorrow. Then later, if you’d like to repeat the vows in a big ceremony, we’ll have an entire celebration with a wedding at the church in the village and everything else.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It will be easy, and don’t accuse me of scamming you again.”
“I won’t.”
She thought she would love to wed him. She thought perhaps she was in love with him, but could it be? They’d only just met, yet she felt as if she’d always known him.
What would it be like to be his bride? She would be mistress of Wallace Downs, would manage his residence, servants, and family. She would be safe and secure, spoiled by her husband and happy with her lot.
The future he was offering dangled in front of her, and she was anxious to grab for it, but it would be insane to agree.
He was pressuring her to proceed immediately, but the wiser course was to wait. She should travel to London and confer with her sisters. She should spend weeks debating her decision.
“Why would you marry me?” she said. “You’re so determined.”
“I told you it’s about the money in that trust fund my father created.”
She chuckled despondently. “If that comment was meant to persuade me, you failed miserably. You needn’t be so blunt about it.”
“Well, it is about the money. Would you like me to lie? You seem more pragmatic than that.”
“Couldn’t you at least pretend you’re a bit fond? Couldn’t you act as if you are?”
“I’m very fond of you,” he firmly stated, “but you can’t be expecting I’ll wax poetic and declare myself madly in love.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect that. Not so early in our relationship, but I always thought it would be marvelous to love my husband.”
“Maybe it will eventually transpire,” he absurdly claimed. “Maybe we’ll grow to like each other so much that we’ll fall pitifully, pointlessly in love.”
“Be serious,” she scoffed. “I’m trying to have a rational conversation with you.”
“And I’m trying to be rational. I’m eager to wed because I have a small fortune out there that can be mine if I do. Should I deny it?”
“No.”
“You possess all the social graces I require in a wife. You’re beautiful and educated and elegant. In my view, you’re a stellar choice, and you have to stop insisting marriage to me would be horrid. Your life is pathetic, and it will improve dramatically once you’re my bride.”
“I suppose that might be true,” she tepidly allowed.
But there was the pesky problem of her hidden identity and her certainty that it would anger him very much. It was on the tip of her tongue to simply blurt it out, but she couldn’t imagine what would happen.
He was so keen to marry her, but no words of affection had been exchanged between them. What was there to bind him to his offer? Nothing. She had no male kin who could force him to follow through so if she enraged him, he could toss her aside as quickly as he’d picked her.
Also, he was the twins’ guardian, and they were his wards. If he could keep their mother away from them, he could definitely keep their prior governess away. She might never see them again and that was her greatest fear.
Yet what if she consented? If she were his wife, she’d have the right to remain at Wallace Downs. What if she merely lied by omission and never admitted who she really was? Would that be so wrong? Could she live with herself?
“Answer me this,” she said.
“If I can.”
“What about Miss Robertson? Have you told her about this?”
“Not yet, but I will. She’s in London. I’ll ride to town to speak with her after the wedding.”
Abigail snorted with disgust. “Are you telling me—if I married you—your first act would be to trot off and visit your mistress?”
His cheeks reddened with chagrin. “I hadn’t considered how that might sound. Let me put it this way. I’m ready to split with her, but I’ve been with her for many years. She deserves to learn from me personally that it’s over.”
“And that you wed the governess?”
“Yes, that I wed the governess.”
“I’m predicting she won’t take the news very graciously.”
“I don’t care.”
“You are insane, Alex Wallace. Have I mentioned that you are?”
“Yes, so must we continue discussing this?” He scowled. “I can’t believe I’ve proposed and your only response is to constantly try to dissuade me.”
“Well, your proposal is so unnecessary, and it’s imperative that I counsel against it. I’m afraid you’re laboring under a wicked spell, and after you free yourself from it you’ll regret your decision forever.”
He smiled at her, his expression so tender and so riveting that—had she been standing on her feet—it would have knocked her over.
“I could never regret marrying you,” he said. “Not once. Not ever.”
* * * *
Alex wouldn’t keep debating the issue.
He was very vain, and while he recognized his reputation was tattered and that respectable families would look askance at handing over a daughter, there were many other women who would jump at the chance to be his wife.
Why wasn’t Abigail one of them?
He was absolutely positive she’d started at a very high place and had been brought low. She’d lost her spot and couldn’t reclaim it, but by becoming his wife she’d be rich and settled, and he couldn’t abide her dithering. She was being ridiculous, seeing problems where they didn’t exist.
He was the one who should be having reservations, and he had none at all. As he’d discovered in his initial attempt at matrimony, a man never truly knew his bride so any disaster could arise.
But Abigail Barrington wouldn’t be a disaster. She’d be perfect, and he’d always be glad he’d picked her.
He was thirty now and quickly pushing thirty-one. Should he suddenly drop dead, he had no heir, and he wouldn’t let his estate pass to distant cousins. Matrimony was the sole method to secure it.
For the prior decade, he’d erected a wall to keep his battered emotions at bay. He felt as if he’d been frozen and stumbling blindly in the dark, but she’d thawed out the icy blockage that had left him in a trance.
He had no idea why she’d been able to do that, but she had an effect on him that was odd and thrilling. He’d noted it that very first day out on the road when he’d spied on her from the shadows. She’d looked pretty and vulnerable, but strong and dependable too.
There was a way to tether her to him, to guarantee she gave him what he craved. If they had marital relations, they had to wed. On his end, he had no scruples about fornication outside the bonds of matrimony, but she wasn’t a doxy like Camilla. She would never ruin herself, then refuse to proceed.
He was a shrewd and experienced lover, and he would coax her into a physical encounter where she would stroll much farther down the passionate road than she ever intended. Once it was over, she’d be his and they wouldn’t have to continue dickering.
He rolled on top of her and kissed her again, and he was surprised by how pleasurable it was. In his carnal escapades, he was so jaded that he never took his time, but hurried to the conclusion.
Would he ever get tired of Abigail? If the joy he derived from a simple kiss was any indication, he was certain he wouldn’t. He kissed her until he was dizzy from it, and still he kept on.
His hands were everywhere, distracting her while he craftily untied the belt on her robe. The center of her torso was visible so he slipped under the fabric to fondle a breast. For just an instant, she stiffened as if she might protest, but he wouldn’t listen to any complaint.
From the outset, they’d been speeding toward this finale. Fate was in charge, and he couldn’t slow down or move in a different direction.
He deepened the kiss, providing no opportunity for her to think about where this was leading. There was no point to her thinking. She needed to feel the heat they generated and everything else was irrelevant.
He dipped down and nuzzled a trail to her bosom, and he sucked a pert nipple into his mouth. He laved it forever until her hips rocked with his own in the oldest rhythm of all. Then he shifted to her other breast and gave it the same fierce attention.
He went back and forth, back and forth, tasting her, exciting her. His hand drifted to her stomach and into her womanly hair, and he’d barely slid a finger into her sheath when she was pitched into a delicious orgasm.
He nodded with satisfaction. He’d assumed she would be a very sexual creature and was delighted to have been proven right. She soared to the heavens, then back down, and when she landed safely in his arms he was grinning, preening.
“I can’t believe I allowed you to do that to me,” she said when she could speak again.
“This is destined to be, Abigail. Don’t deny it.”
She sighed. “I won’t. Not out loud anyway.”
“Don’t deny it in that pretty little head of yours either. You’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go.”
“There are so many details you don’t know about me.”
“And there’s plenty you don’t know about me.”
“If you were aware of my secrets, you wouldn’t want this.”
“I could say the same. I’m a walking, talking bundle of scandal and notoriety. You’d have to be mad to wed me.”
“Precisely, and I’m not mad so why am I in this bed with you?”
“Perhaps I’ve driven you insane.”
“You just might have.”
She was so vexed with him, and he couldn’t bear to have her fussing and stewing. In the morning, they’d hold the ceremony so he viewed the current encounter as their wedding night. What man would put up with complaints and grousing on his wedding night?
“Don’t worry so much, Abigail,” he said.
“If you would only listen to what—”
He laid a finger on her lips. “Hush.”
He started in yet again, and he had to hurry and finish it. Even though he’d have liked to dawdle and play, any delay gave her too many chances to come to her senses.
He was pushing her up the spiral of passion once more, and she joined in with a sort of resignation, as if she’d accepted the inevitable.
“Don’t be sad,” he murmured.
“I’m not sad. I’m afraid.”
“Of what? Of me?”
“Yes.”
He frowned ferociously. “Of all the things in the world that should scare you, I am not one of them.”
“You terrify me.”
“Why would I terrify you? You’re being silly.”
“I think—if I proceed with this—I might become inordinately fond of you. I might even love you someday, and then where will I be?”
“You’ll be here with me as my wife, and I’ll be watching over you and spoiling you rotten. You’ll be spoiling me too. You’ll be making me happy.”
“I’ll always try,” she said.
“Of course you will. If I’d thought otherwise, I wouldn’t have proposed.”
“I wish my mother were alive. I’d like to ask her opinion about you.”
“If your mother was alive, she’d tell you to run away as fast as you can.”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m glad you can’t ask her advice.”
“I understand what you’re hoping to do.” She glanced down at their bodies that were pressed so tightly. “You’re intending to get a jump on our wedding night. If I agree, you’ll be bound to me then—no matter what. You can’t back out or renege.”
“You can’t either.”
“I’m not certain of the mechanics.”
“I’ll show you. It’s easy to accomplish.”
“You have to promise me one thing.”
“Anything that is within my power to bestow, you may have it.”
“I want to stay with the twins,” she said. “Despite what might happen between you and me in the future—”
“Naught bad will happen.”
“If you ever decide this was a mistake or you—”
“Abigail!” His tone was scolding. “Don’t jinx us.”
“Just promise I can stay with the twins.”
“I promise you can. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Then yes, Alex, I’ll marry you. Tomorrow.”
“That’s more like it.” He was beaming, feeling exceedingly grand.
He gazed into her eyes, and that sense of bewitchment was back, as if he’d never stood a chance, as if he could never have avoided the destiny Fate had engineered.
“This will be perfect,” he told her.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be.”
She smiled a tremulous smile, and he smiled too. It seemed as if they were pledging themselves in a manner that was much more poignant than would transpire when they spoke their vows the next day.
He began again, touching her, caressing her, driving her wild with pleasure. Down below, he was opening his trousers, yanking them down to his flanks. His cock was so hard, his lust for her so great. He gripped her thighs and widened them, his torso dropping between her l
egs. He reached down and centered himself, and as he flexed with his hips she tensed.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“I’m not. I’m simply nervous about what I don’t know. I’ve only heard schoolgirls and housemaids gossiping.”
“I’ll join my body to yours.” He flexed again, inching closer.
“It feels odd.”
“It always does the first time, but that’s because it’s different from what you’re expecting.”
She rested a palm on his cheek. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I have to—when I enter you.”
“I don’t mean now. I mean in the future. Be kind to me. Be faithful and loyal.”
“Always, Abigail, always. Now put your arms around my shoulders and try to relax.”
“It’s easier said than done.”
“It will be over very soon so don’t be frightened. I hate that you are.”
“I’m not frightened. I never could be when I’m with you.”
She drew him to her and initiated a kiss of her own, and he participated with relish. He viewed it as her ultimate surrender, and he thrust more forcefully, pressing himself into her and eventually he burst inside.
She arched up, but other than that slight reaction, she didn’t cry out or appear overwrought.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked.
“No. There was barely any pain at all.” She frowned. “Are we finished?”
“There’s a bit more to it.”
He pushed in all the way, pulling out to the tip, then pushing in. He’d planned to keep on for ages, to titillate himself until he couldn’t stand it, but he was already beyond his limit.
With an especially strident shove, he emptied himself against her womb, the pleasure never seeming to end. Then he collapsed onto her.
He dawdled, cherishing the moment, aware that they’d never have this exact experience ever again. He was incredibly content as he could never remember being in the past. Finally, he rolled onto his back and snuggled her to his chest.
“What did you think, Mrs. Wallace?” he inquired.
She chuckled. “Oh, Mrs. Wallace. You’re talking about me.”
