“And you, Olivia,” the duke said. “Are you pleased with the marriage?”
“I suppose Chastity is right. Women are simply commodities whose ownership is transferred from one man to another.”
Frasier’s chest tightened. He longed to take her in his arms and prove that she was not a commodity, that she was the most precious thing in his life. Dammit, why hadn’t he met her under normal circumstances? But would normal circumstances have been enough for him to look twice at her? He had had no interest in marriage, hadn’t planned to find a wife ever, if he were honest. Stirling’s winning card hand—the five thousand pounds—was the reason he’d come to Inverness. He’d never planned on marrying her, never planned on owning the Lady Belle…never planned on falling in love.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he murmured.
She turned her head and looked at him. The pain in her eyes twisted his insides. “Do not let it worry you,” she said. “I’m practical. This arrangement was nothing more than a marriage of convenience.”
Frasier swung his gaze onto Stirling. “Keep the money—the Lady Belle, too.” He faced Olivia and said, “I love you.”
She blinked, then her mouth set in a hard line. “I do not need sweet words, sir. I have never been one to pretend.”
“Pretend?” he repeated. Frasier turned his attention to the duke. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but we will drop you at Gledstone Hall, then go to my town home. My wife and I have unfinished business.”
Chapter Nine
B y the time Olivia and Frasier reached his rented town home, Olivia’s heart pounded. How was it possible that she had married a man who had won her in a card game? Had Sir Stirling also blackmailed Quinn into marrying Lucy? The two were deliriously happy. Nae, Sir Stirling knew the young baron. They'd grown up together. But he and Frasier were friends, men who played cards together. And now, she was about to be deflowered by a man who won her in a card game worth five thousand pounds. Her father was right, many men and women married for much less. But a…a marriage wager was far worse than an arranged marriage of convenience.
Worse, her husband had tried to placate her by saying he loved her. Tears stung as the butler opened the door and they entered the house. You will not cry, she told herself. The last thing she needed was for the servants to see the new bride crying.
“We will be indisposed, Baxter,” Frasier told the butler, then cupped her elbow and turned her right, toward the stairs.
Her heart raced faster. They reached the third floor and he directed her to an open door. She glimpsed a small fire burning in the hearth as they entered the room. Then her attention fixed on the large bed on the far-right wall. Heaven help her, he intended to take her this very instant.
He closed the door and she froze. The soft pad of his boots on the carpet approached. He entered her line of sight and stopped, facing her.
“Did ye hear what I told Stirling?”
Olivia realized her hands were fisted at her sides. “What?”
“Did you hear me tell him to keep the money?”
He had said that. Words, empty words. Just like every word he’d spoken to her from the moment they’d met. All intended to manipulate.
She met his gaze squarely. “I will never know the difference.”
He barked a laugh, then stripped off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. “You will notice when you see how we live.”
Olivia tried to ignore the play of muscle against the sleeves of his shirt. She remembered something. “What did you mean when you told Sir Stirling he could keep the Lady Belle, too?”
Surprise shone in his eyes, then he gave a mirthless laugh. “I never did learn how to keep quiet.” He released a breath. “It was to be a wedding gift.”
Olivia gasped. “I see.” Her knees felt weak. “I am such a fool.”
“Nae, you are not a fool. I’m the fool.”
She shook her head. “Had I known from the beginning this was nothing more than an arrangement, I could have accepted that. I would have never hoped for more. But you made me believe…” Her voice broke.
"You're wrong, Olivia. I swear to you, I would never have married you had I not wanted to. I don't care about the money, I don't care about the ship."
"Ship?" She was certain her knees would give way beneath her. "I-I must sit down."
He grasped her arm and led her to a chair near the hearth. She lowered himself into the cushion and he squatted in front of her. "I want nothing from Stirling—bloody hell, I don't need anything—except you."
"Never fear, for there is still a thousand pounds a year my father will settle upon me now that we are married."
He shoved to his feet and raked a hand through his hair. “I do not care about the money. I refuse to take any of it."
She shook her head. “There is no longer any need to pretend. I understand. I will survive the shock.”
“Well, I won’t,” he said with such desperation that she snapped her head up to meet his gaze.
The anguish on his face took her breath. Nae, he couldn’t truly be sorry. Could anyone act this skillfully? He stared, dark eyes pleading.
“I don’t give a damn about the money,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Her pulse accelerated. “What do you give a damn about?”
He stared for three heartbeats. “You.”
Olivia couldn’t move. She felt as if time had stopped and they were frozen in this moment. How long would he stand there, staring at her? She stood, took two steps and stopped in front of him. She grasped his coat lapel and rose onto tiptoes. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed her as she leaned in. He shut his eyes an instant before she closed hers and their lips touched.
***
Their mouths met and something broke inside Frasier. He crushed Olivia to him. She melted in his embrace and he felt as if he would lose his mind if he didn’t enter her soon. She moved her lips on his, tentative, but with a need he understood. She wanted him. His beautiful wife wanted him. Mouth still on hers, Frasier unbuttoned his waistcoat, then stripped it off and dropped it to the carpet. He yanked his cuffs free of their cuff links, dropped them onto the chair, then his shirt followed. Buttons popped. He broke the kiss and sloughed the shirt from his back.
Olivia stripped off her trim fitting jacket and let it drop beside his shirt. His heart thundered. He took two steps, dropped into the chair and began tugging off his left boot. The blasted thing yielded so slowly. Olivia laughed and knelt beside him. He snapped his head up and watched as she grasped the boot and gently turned it as masterfully as his valet. His foot slipped free and she set the boot aside.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked as she did the same with the right boot.
She smiled and said, "Occasionally, I help my father when he sits in the study."
The boot came free, and Frasier rose and helped her to her feet. She flattened her palm against his bare chest. He closed his eyes and held her near for a long moment, willing his racing heart to slow.
“Are you unwell?" she asked.
He gave a hoarse laugh. "Nae, I have never been better. I simply need a moment to gain control of my senses." Of his cock, he wanted to say.
"Why?" she asked.
He laughed again. "So that I don’t ravish you."
"Aren’t husbands supposed to ravish their wives?"
God help him, the lass could tempt the devil himself. He released her, then crossed to the curtains and pulled them closed. Only the soft firelight lit the room. Frasier returned to her and drew her to him again. He kissed her, slow and sweet as a virgin should be kissed. He jarred when her tongue touched his lips. Did she want to spar with him? He’d just gained control. This— She traced his lips with her tongue. He swallowed. She wound her arms around his neck. His cock strained against his breeches. He wouldn’t be able to wait much longer.
His hands shook as he slid a finger beneath each dress sleeve and eased the neckline down her shoulders. He nudged her arms and she released his
neck and dropped her arms to her sides as he tugged the dress down her body. The silken fabric pooled at her feet. Frasier had eyes only for the bodice of her linen petticoat. The damned thing dipped so low he was certain he glimpsed a pink nipple.
Frasier reached for her chin and tilted her face up. He searched her eyes. “Are you ready, sweet? I can wait if you—”
“Wait?” She frowned. “A respectable woman does not make her husband wait to consummate their marriage.”
“Perhaps not, but you are young and this marriage… Well,” he gave her a lopsided smile, “I did not woo you properly.”
She tilted her head and a woman’s smile curved one side of her mouth. “I suppose you shall have to make it up to me, then.”
His heart swelled. “I swear, I will.”
Frasier swept her into his arms and crossed to the bed. Gently, he laid her on the mattress, then shucked his breeches. His cock sprang free, rigid and harder than he remembered being since he was a lad of twenty. Her eyes widened and he hid a smile.
He lowered himself on top of her. His rod pressed her belly and he half feared he would spend himself in that moment. He’d promised to woo her, and a man did not take his pleasure on his wife’s stomach…at least not on their wedding night.
He stared down at her. “You are beautiful.”
Was that love he saw in her eyes?
She lifted a hand and he remained motionless as her gaze followed her finger down the scar on his cheek. Her eyes came back to his. “So are you.”
“Beautiful enough to be a pirate?”
She grinned. “Aye. We shall call you Sir Pirate, the Saint.”
His bollocks tightened. At this moment, he felt anything but a saint.
Olivia took a deep breath in an effort to control her racing heart. This man was so handsome, so kind. Did he care for her? What sort of black magic did Sir Stirling practice to match her with a man who could love her as Quinn loved Lucy? Questions. She asked too many questions. Olivia grasped his neck and pulled him down to her.
When their mouths touched, she closed her eyes. She didn’t quite understand it, but she knew she needed him. The ache between her legs could be soothed by him alone. He cupped her face and rained kisses on her mouth, then her cheek, her neck. A shiver raced down her back. He flicked his tongue against her neck and the featherlight sensation tightened the juncture between her legs. She had the sudden desire to feel his skin against hers. Didn’t men and women remove all their clothes to engage in this intimate act? She wriggled beneath him.
His head came up and he looked down at her. “Am I too heavy for you, sweet?”
Olivia shook her head. “Nae, I was just wondering…” Her cheeks flushed and he raised a brow. She whispered, “Do we consummate our marriage while I’m still wearing my chemise?”
He stared for an instant, then laughed—hard. His head dropped and he buried his face in her neck. “You are a delight,” he said, then pushed to his knees and pulled her up with him.
He lifted her chemise over her head and her blush spread down her cheeks to her neck. Her whole body suddenly heated and she wanted to dive beneath the covers when his eyes darkened with what she knew had to be desire. He cupped her face and kissed her as he eased her back onto the mattress. When his flesh contacted hers and his rigid manhood pressed her abdomen, her stomach did a flip that made her dizzy.
His palm covered her breast and she drew a sharp breath. No one had ever touched her intimately. She hadn’t known it would be so…compelling. Could she touch him in the same manner? Her head whirled. Not just yet. Perhaps tomorrow. With a knee, he eased her legs apart and settled between her thighs.
Good heavens! This was so intimate, so strange. Fear stabbed. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps she should wait. He pressed a kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder. She shivered. His tongue flicked against the sensitive spot and, as before, need pulsed between her legs. He kneaded her breast and began to gently rock against her mons. The ache traveled from her breast to the place he rubbed. Olivia grasped his arms. The play of muscle beneath her fingers made her feel strange. The head of his rod unexpectedly bumped the sensitive nub between her legs. Unexpected pleasure spiked.
He pulled back and his erection probed her opening. She drew a sharp breath when he slipped inside her. He felt impossibly large. Perhaps something was wrong. How could— He slid deeper. Her mind muddled. This was not what she’d expected. He slipped deeper inside, then halted. Was that it? Was that as far as he fit?
“Hold on, sweet,” he said in a gravelly voice.
He drew back and before she understood his intent, he surged forward in one mighty stroke. Something pinched deep inside her. She cried out, but the pain passed.
He lay motionless. “Are you well?”
She wasn’t sure, but she nodded. Surely, this couldn’t last much longer.
Frasier didn’t move for another three heartbeats and she began to realize how heavy he was. Then he shifted and pulled back. Olivia released a small sigh of relief, then he thrust slowly. Again, he pulled back, then thrust, then drew back again and thrust. A pleasant wave radiated through her. He shifted and she started when he bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth. Pleasure streaked to her sex. He moved faster. Her breath caught. Dear Lord, she didn’t understand what was happening.
Faster. She gripped his arms harder. Need tightened her stomach. His warm breath across her breast incited the desire to arch into his mouth. She did. He groaned. The sound vibrated off her nipple. Heavens, she couldn’t take the torture.
Pleasure abruptly burst through her. Olivia cried out. Frasier shoved his arms beneath her and hugged her. He thrust faster and harder. Her breath hitched. Pleasure shot through her a second time. Frasier’s hold tightened. Then he stiffened and groaned, and she realized he’d found his pleasure. An odd satisfaction coursed through her. She’d pleased him. Such an idea hadn’t occurred to her.
He pulled out of her and rolled onto the mattress, drawing her against him. She rested her chin on his chest, her hair splayed out around her. He released a slow breath, then opened his eyes and looked at her.
“When can we do that again, sir?”
He laughed and hugged her so hard she gasped for breath before he rolled her onto her back again.
Chapter Ten
T o Chastity’s shock, Olivia was happily wed to Frasier Gordon. The man had won her in a card game. How Olivia could forgive such a thing was beyond her. The very idea still made her burn with fury. Chastity had taken refuge in her bedchamber and started from her thoughts when a knock came to the door. Her father entered with Sir Stirling behind him. Her pulse beat faster. Such a visit could not bode well.
“Good afternoon, Papa,” she said. “Sir Stirling.”
“My lady,” Sir Stirling said with his usual maddening good humor. Chastity wanted to box his ears.
“The first of June is ten days away. Are you in need of anything for your wedding day?”
Chastity resisted an impulse to hurl the book sitting on the sofa at her father. The desire to throw things at him was becoming an all-too-familiar compulsion. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “Perfectly fine.”
“Do you plan to wear the dress Olivia wore for her wedding?”
“That would be easiest,” she said, despite the fact she hadn’t given the matter a single thought.
“According to Olivia, she still has the dress,” he said.
“I know what you are doing, Papa,” she said. “You think that by haranguing me about the details that you will bully me into doing what you want.”
He shook his head. “On the contrary. Stirling and I are here to help. We understand how busy you are and he has kindly agreed to take over the planning of the wedding.”
This time, she couldn’t refrain from leaping to her feet. “You may plan anything you like, sir. Don’t think that because you saved my sister, that I will marry you.”
“I would never think such a thing,” he said. “You wil
l marry me because I have done as you asked and found your three sisters good husbands.”
She lifted her chin. “You have yet to get Jessica married. I wish you luck, for you will need it.”
Something wicked gleamed in his eyes. “I think I will need luck when I marry you.”
She gasped. “You are a rude, odious man.”
He grinned. “A perfect match for a shrew.”
Chastity drew a sharp breath. “I am not a shrew, sir. I am simply not willing to be bought and sold as my sisters have been.”
“That is unfair,” he said. “Money was exchanged only for Olivia.”
“Ah ha! I knew it. Frasier said he didn’t want your money, but you are saying he did take it.”
“In the beginning,” he replied. “But, as a man of his word, he returned the money.”
“What did you do with it?” she demanded.
“What else? Invested it.”
She held his gaze. “Invested in a husband for Jessica, no doubt.”
His eyes sparkled. “What would be the fun in my telling you that?”
He was up to something. Where the devil had her father found the man? Anxiety caused her head to throb. She had to find out what he had in mind for Jessica. For all her determination, she was still so young. Chastity wouldn’t allow her to be trapped into marriage. Olivia and Lucy had wanted husbands. Jessica did not. There was only one way to discover what the devil was up to. She had to be nice to him.
###
A Lady by Chance
He bargained for a lady, but the hoyden stole his heart…
Signing a wedding contract for the third daughter of a duke sight unseen is the first impulsive thing by-the-book Navy Lieutenant Patrick Chalmers has ever done. When he arrives on his wedding day to claim his bride, he never dreams the beautiful woman walking down the aisle is the spitfire he saved from falling out of a tree.
Baldain House
Inverness, Scotland 1817
The Marriage Wager (The Marraige Maker Book 2) Page 7
