It ought to be exciting. Interesting even, but after the events of her day, all she wanted to do was crawl beneath a heavy counterpane and sleep.
She peered out the window to watch as another coach arrived and waited for one of the footmen to open the door and lower the step for her.
And waited some more.
With a frustrated sigh, she edged herself forward and resigned to open the door for herself. “Dratted good for nothing—!” She didn’t ordinarily grumble, or curse for that matter, but she’d had quite enough of this day.
Rearranging her skirts, she crouched on her haunches, grasped the handle, leaned forward and—
Tumbled into a solid mass of man as the door flew out of her hand.
“Oomph.” Her head crashed into him first, and then the rest of her body followed. As tall and firm and muscular as he was, he easily prevented her from experiencing a most embarrassing and painful landing on the cold, hard ground.
It was the perfect ending to an absolutely miserable journey. She would not cry.
All she could think to do was bury her face where he could not see her.
Which happened to be his chest.
“I didn’t think anyone was coming to assist me.” She spoke into his shirt and coat, which most likely rendered her explanation utterly incoherent.
Talkative man that he was, he merely grunted and lowered her feet to the ground. Her unsteady knees nearly gave out on her, most likely due to the jarring she’d endured throughout the day.
She did not release him immediately. He really was quite sturdy.
As anyone with his size ought to be.
A large hulking brawny stranger. She removed her hand quickly. He would put himself inside of her. Possibly very soon.
It ought to be the other way around, she fumed inside. Women oughtn’t to have to suffer for the mere sake of… every damn thing that men wanted.
Again, she stifled her temper and took in her surroundings.
Ostlers, maids, and various other servants rushed about with horses, buckets, and packages that were presumably awaiting the mail coach.
So many people! A world of unfamiliarity.
A tremor ran through her.
“Are you ill?” He sounded more irritated than concerned.
She was miles from home, her sister, mother, and even the father she hated. She had less than a pound in her reticule and only one change of clothing. And yet, the urge to buy a ticket on the mail coach and travel anywhere away from here was a strong one.
But where could she go? Her father… he’d never allow her to return.
She glanced up and nodded. She knew nothing of him, and he knew nothing of her. It was imperative she remain optimistic. Perhaps she and her husband could find a way to get along without hating one another. She suspected not all marriages were like her parents’ had been.
She hoped so, anyhow.
As far back as she could remember, she’d been an annoyance to her father. She did not relish the idea of being a burden and annoyance to her husband for the remainder of her life—or of his, whichever the case may be.
She did not relish the idea of having a husband that she feared. Fear was exhausting.
Her father treated her mother as though he hated her, and her mother kowtowed to his every whim. She knew this could not be the situation for all married couples, but it was hard to believe her own could be any different.
Especially after starting out in the manner that it had.
With a flick of her eyes, she stole a glance at his rugged features. His was not the face of a happily newlywed gentleman anticipating his wedding night. Rather more that of a man who was headed for the gallows.
Delightful.
Three hours later, Lila stared out the window at the still-bustling yard. Much like waves rolling in and out, coaches, horses, and all manner of vehicle came and went even though night had fallen.
When she’d asked her husband if they were to dine privately, he’d scowled in her direction and informed her she could take her meal in their chamber. He’d be taking his downstairs with an ale or two.
She’d not seen him since.
Why didn’t he talk to her? Already she missed Arianna’s incessant stories, and even Fran’s chattering about the most recent letter she’d received.
He’d only rented one room for the two of them. Every five minutes or so, her eyes drifted to the large bed that sat in the center of it.
Without even a cursory knock, the door opened, causing Lila to sit up straight. She’d long ago changed into her night rail and dressing gown. She’d brushed out her hair and braided it.
She’d thought she was ready, but the sight of his tall and strapping form made the room feel considerably smaller. He removed his jacket before bothering to even look at her.
“The evening meal was to your satisfaction?” And then his gaze flickered to her half-eaten tray of food.
She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
He walked to the washbasin and splashed some of the water onto his face.
“Is it always so loud here?” she asked him. Any sort of conversation would be better than this brooding silence he’d displayed all day.
“Quieter in back, but this was all they had available.” With his back to her, he spoke somewhat defensively.
“I wasn’t complaining.” Lila hugged her knees into her chest and curled her bare toes around the edge of her chair. “Um. So…”
She lost track of what she was going to ask him when he dragged his shirt out of his breeches and then lifted it over his head.
Once, when she’d been reading one of Arianna’s stories up in the loft of her father’s stable at their southern estate, the stable master, after coming in from a ghastly thunderstorm, had disrobed right out in the open.
She’d stayed hidden and watched.
The stable master had been well into his fifties, though, and had a large paunch around his midsection.
Her husband…
She swallowed hard.
Seeing him thusly did little to calm her nerves. He had not an ounce of fat on him. His white skin stretched tightly over an abundance of sinewy muscles, making her wonder how he’d spent most of his life. Doing hard labor, she imagined.
“I didn’t know dukes could look like you.”
He stilled at her words but then turned to study her. “And how is that?” His jaw clenched. “Unrefined? Crude?”
“Oh, no! You must think very poorly of me to think I’d develop such an unfair opinion of anyone.” It was her turn to frown. “You look…” Her gaze dragged unwittingly over his chest and abdomen. “Strong. I’ve never seen a duke that looked even remotely like you. They are usually very slim, effeminate almost. Except for my former fiancé, and he was only an earl when we were betrothed.” And then she covered her mouth with her hand.
Did he know she’d been thrown over already?
Would he care? Most noblemen most definitely would consider her damaged goods.
Apparently, the Duke of Pemberth wasn’t like most noblemen.
“What should I call you?” She could hardly imagine herself calling him Your Grace.
“The title is Pemberth,” he responded but then ran one hand through his hair. “And you?
Lila took a deep breath. He was talking to her. After being married for nearly twelve hours, he was finally talking to her.
“Will you call me Lila? When we are alone, anyhow. I could hardly abide by you calling me Your Grace when we…” And then her gaze unwittingly drifted to the bed. “When no one else is present.” And then she added, “My sister calls me Lila. Do you have any sisters? Or brothers perhaps? Won’t you sit? Please?”
At last, an opportunity to learn something about him.
“No.” But he sat down.
“Oh.” She was rather disappointed at that. She’d hope for some friendly company. “Your estate, Glenn Abby? Do any other relatives live there with you? An aunt? A grandmother?” Or was it to be just the two of them?
“No.”
He was doing it again. That not talking thing. She needed to ask him something that would require more than just a yes or no answer.
“Why did you marry me?” The question escaped before she could think it over properly. She wasn’t usually one to babble but he… made her nervous.
He hadn’t given her his full attention, in truth, up until that moment. He’d stared at the floor. Out the window.
Finally, his ice-cold blue eyes focused on her. “Why did you marry me?” His rejoining question surprised her. “Were you so determined that you should gain the title of ‘duchess?’”
The question ought to have offended her, but she waved one hand through the air. “That is all my father. And I only married you because he insisted.” Not a flattering answer, but… She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “Do I look as though I’m enamored with your title?”
He shrugged, but then dragged his gaze over her. “Oddly enough, no. Do you always do what your father tells you?” He finally seemed truly interested in something she might have to say.
Again, she shrugged. “I learned at a young age that to do anything other than his will resulted in… unpleasantness.”
He continued staring at her. “You fear him?”
It was her turn to look elsewhere. Yes, she feared him. Her father had made a great deal of money from investments and… other business dealings. He was also born an earl. He had power. Not only over her but the people he’d surrounded them with.
She shrugged for a third time, this time without answering.
“Do you fear me?” His question was straightforward.
Lila hugged her knees even more tightly against her chest. “I’ve no reason to, have I?” Except that as his wife, she was his possession. “I am…” She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly quite dry. “I am hopeful that I will have no need to.”
And then she lifted her chin, awaiting his next move.
Vincent had done his best to pretend all day long that he had not just encumbered himself with a wife.
He could pretend all he wanted, but that did nothing to change the reality sitting across from him covered from neck to toe in a heavy dressing gown and night rail. His wife was a small woman who looked younger than her age. Long lashes framed rather pretty blue eyes and practically perfect features.
She’d admitted that she’d married him because she had been given no choice. She said she had not cared about a lofty title.
Oddly enough, he believed her.
“You have no need to fear me.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual. But he meant it. The memory of her father violently removing her shawl and then tearing pins from her hair… Hell, what must she be expecting of him? “I won’t force myself on you.”
He wasn’t so desperate that he’d ever force a woman—not even his wife.
“I am more than willing to lie with you.” She did not blink as she spoke the words. Likely the notion of duty had been beaten into her.
He shook his head. He’d rather not bed a martyr.
But then she added, “I want to lie with you.” This time, her eyes flared. He could almost imagine the blue of her gaze as a blue flame.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Perhaps not for the reasons people choose to lie together, but…” Her gaze dropped to where his hands rested on his thighs. “If you change your mind, if you decide to send me back… My father… I was betrothed before and the gentleman… cried off. If I fail in this…” She lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. “I want you to lie with me.”
Vincent drew in one long breath and then slowly released it.
Damn, Keenan.
“Do you not wish to lie with me?” Her brows furrowed. “Is it me in particular?” And then her eyes widened. “Do you not find women—“
“I find women quite nicely, thank you,” he groused.
“Then why…?”
“Did I say I did not wish to lie with you?”
There, that put an end to her impertinent questions. She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”
If he’d thought he would be having such a conversation when he awoke this morning, he would have laughed outright at himself.
His wife of not even one day, who had been forced into marriage with him, was trying to talk him into bedding her. And for the first time all day, his sense of humor jumped to life.
As did his cock.
His gaze landed on her lips.
“So, you will?” she pleaded.
Vincent cleared his throat. Not exactly the scenario he’d envisioned for his wedding night. If he had envisioned one at all.
“If it is your wish.”
“Oh, yes.” She lowered her feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Now?”
He went to speak but only a choking sound emerged, causing him to groan a little and then scrub one hand down his face. “I don’t imagine you’ve any experience.” He half wished that she did. Although that would then mean… Nonetheless, it would make all of this so much easier.
She sat up straight at his question. “Of course not!”
How did a person go about this in such a dispassionate manner?
And yet, he realized he did not feel dispassionately when he looked at her. He’d found himself attracted to her since she’d glared at him just before the ceremony. It was her own practical approach that gave him pause.
She rose and smoothed her night rail down her hips and thighs. A lantern burned behind her, revealing curves he’d discovered when she’d fallen out of the carriage onto him earlier.
No, he was not the one who would experience any difficulty.
But she was a small woman. She was a virgin.
And he was… none of those things.
“Should I get on the bed, then?” She might as well have been asking him if he’d prefer mutton or beef.
“I suppose,” he muttered. “No. Wait.”
She paused and stared at him in some confusion. Vincent could not do this the same as he would repair a fence post or round up a herd.
He’d had some ale with his meal but suddenly wished he’d downed a few drams of whiskey. Pushing such thoughts away, he rose and crossed the room so that he stood directly in front of her. At least he’d washed the dirt and sweat off himself from his day’s exertions.
She tilted her head back sharply just to meet his gaze.
“It will make it easier for you.” His voice sounded gruff… gravelly. “If you are prepared.”
With a determined glint in her eyes, she nodded. “Yes. Yes. That would be best.” And then that furrowed brow of hers appeared again. “What does that require?”
“I should… you ought to… Oh, hell—” He reached one arm down to curve around her waist and dragged her body up against his.
God, but she felt fragile.
He lowered his mouth and claimed her lips.
She initially stiffened and went to draw back her head, but Vincent followed her hungrily, unwilling to draw out this dialogue any further.
If she didn’t like it, he would stop. But she needed to have a taste of what was to come if she intended him to swive her that night.
Drawing his tongue along the seam of her lips, satisfaction rolled through him when she relaxed hers, allowing him entry. She tasted of something sweet, warm, and clean.
He’d gone too long without this… since before Keenan’s death.
With a surge of excitement, he tightened his grip around her and when she made no sounds of protest, reached his hands beneath her knees, lifted her easily, and carried her to the bed.
Chapter 4
A New Experience
Planning for such a life-altering event had not been easy, as sheltered and isolated as Lila had been throughout her life. She’d managed to ask Fran a few questions, and one of the housemaids, Dora, had been quite forthcoming, but nothing she’d learned on her own had prepared her for the magnitude of the actual experience itself
.
All she could do when Pemberth claimed her mouth and then lifted her easily and carried her across the room was cling to him for dear life.
Dora had not mentioned anything about his tongue… doing these things. And although she might have thought the sensation would be unpleasant, Lila found it all rather intriguing.
In fact, she felt somewhat bereft when he dropped her onto the bed, forcing their mouths to disengage.
Most likely, he’d unfasten his breeches now.
“Do you want to extinguish the lantern?” She stared up at him.
His hands were indeed working at his waist. He did not answer her. He merely shook his head.
So, she would see it. It could not be very large, because Lila couldn’t imagine…
Perhaps she’d rather not actually see it.
Laying back, she slid her feet apart, creating what she hoped would be an appropriate amount of room for him to work, and closed her eyes tightly.
She was not sure exactly what she had been waiting for, but when nothing happened, she opened her eyes and found him lying sideways on the bed, staring at her with his head resting on one hand.
And then she felt… it.
Glancing down was enough to confirm her suspicions. He had removed his breaches and—
Yes. The solid poking feeling at her side was indeed his member pressing into her. She just as quickly flicked her gaze back up to his face.
“Lila.” For the first time since meeting him that morning, she sensed he might possibly be capable of smiling. Not that he was smiling at her now, but something danced in the back of those silver-blue eyes. “Are you certain you are prepared to do this?”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to take any chances. “Just do what you need to do.” She closed her eyes again.
Then his hand was running down the length of her arm. He took a moment to draw a few light circles on the back of her hand and then moved his to rest on her abdomen.
Butterflies seemed to dance under her skin where he touched her. Her breath hitched when that same hand crept upward to just beneath her breast, cupping it from below.
“I won’t hurt you, Lila.” His voice sounded gravelly beside her ear.
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