by Lucy Monroe
She had no idea it could be like this, that a man would allow a woman to lay on top of him while they kissed. She liked it, a great deal. It made her feel bold and she lowered her hands from his head to his chest, madly attacking the buttons of his waistcoat. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin, to touch the rippling muscles of his chest.
She got the first two buttons undone and then he did something with his hand below the curve of her bottom and she arched toward him. Her femininity pressed against his masculine hardness and pleasure shot through her. She moved just the tiniest bit and felt the pleasure again.
"Easy, baby, or we’re going to have our wedding night before our wedding."
She stilled at the harsh tone in his voice, hearing it more than the words he’d uttered. Had she done something wrong? "I’m sorry."
"Bloody hell. Don’t apologize. You make me feel like a randy buck getting his first taste of a woman, but I don’t want to take you for the first time on your conservatory floor."
Was that all? Did he think she cared where they made love as long as they actually did it? "It doesn’t matter."
His hand brushed along her backside and down her thighs. "It matters all right, but I’m having a bloody difficult time trying to remember why."
She undid another button on his waistcoat and kissed the underside of his chin. "Then don’t."
She’d never felt like this before and she was terrified if they stopped, she never would again. She released the last button and pushed aside the brocade before laying her hands against the heat of his chest. Two small, hard nubs pressed against her fingers and she circled them.
He groaned and his hips lurched up toward her body, hitting that pleasure intense spot once again. Incredible sensation coiled tight in her belly and she pressed downward, wiggling just a bit to maximize the contact. She had left off her petticoats due to the heat and only one thin layer of muslin and lawn separated her tender flesh from the hardness pressing against it through his breeches. She wanted to kiss him again, but she also wanted to taste his skin. Deciding on the latter, she tore open his shirt, hearing buttons pop as she did so.
He laughed, the sound guttural and tight.
She didn’t care.
She lowered her mouth to his chest and kissed him. It wasn’t enough. She licked him and tasted salty manliness. She spied the dark nub she’d been touching a moment ago and closed her lips around it. Suddenly Jared was thrusting up against her in a steady motion, his hand pressed hard on her bottom. Each heavy thrust brought incredible sensation to her most feminine place and she never, ever wanted it to end.
Then his free hand cupped her breast. She arched her lower body against his while thrusting her breast more fully against his hand. He tugged down the bodice of her gown and exposed her curved flesh. Taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger he rolled gently then tugged. She screamed against his chest and the coiling tension in her lower body exploded like gunpowder lit with a match.
Her cries were drowned out by his mighty roar as he held her almost painfully tight against him.
She collapsed against him, her body feeling boneless with the pleasure. So this is what it meant to be a woman. "I thought it required being naked," she murmured against his hair-roughened chest.
His laughter made her feel as if she were lying on a rumbling mountain. "It’s better naked."
"If it is, I don’t think I’ll survive the experience."
"I’m not sure I will either. I’ve never climaxed in my breeches before. I should be embarrassed, but you’re so bloody hot mon ange that I’m blaming it all on you."
She felt her cheeks warm and was grateful for the shadowed light in the conservatory that hid the evidence of her embarrassment from him. He acted so casually about something she found cataclysmic.
Then he went still. "Cali?"
"Yes?"
"You said you thought you had to be naked."
"Yes."
"Does that mean you don’t know?"
She buried her face against his chest and nodded in shame.
"You mean he never touched you?"
"He touched me...a few times, but we never... He wouldn’t... He said I was too frigid," she confessed, humiliation making her voice low.
"He hurt you didn’t' he?"
"Yes, but the words left deeper scars than his fists."
"Damned bastard." It sounded like he meant the curse in its most literal interpretation.
"I felt like such a failure."
Jared sat up, adjusting her on his lap, his expression grim. "By making you feel lacking, Clairborne felt bigger than the sorry bastard that he was. It was part and parcel of the abuse he used to control you and keep you feeling inferior. He was a sadistic blackguard who got a thrill out of marrying the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and then convincing her she had no feminine value when in reality, he was the one incapable of being a man."
"He had mistresses. He wasn't incapable."
"I didn't say incapable of sex. I said incapable of being a man. He was nothing short of a monster. Pity the women he took to his bed and be grateful the sickness in his mind kept him from taking you. I know that I thank God for it."
"You’re not worried I’ll be too cold for you?"
He laughed long and loudly. "Mon ange, after what we just did, there’s no bloody way you’re too cold. Clairborne was a fool and a bastard, but I can’t say I’m sorry he was a fool. You’re mine."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first reading of the banns, two days after Calantha agreed to marry Jared, had coincided with the end of Lady Ashton’s house party and her guest’s departure.
That undoubtedly accounted for the fact that the plans for the wedding between Lord Beast and the Angel did not spread in the district until after the second reading of the banns, a week later, which had given her a few days reprieve before dealing with the Clairborne’s.
Calantha thought as Thomas informed her early Monday afternoon that the duke and duchess awaited her pleasure in the drawing room.
"Thank you, Thomas. I must go to my room and tidy myself. Tell them I will be with them shortly." She had been preparing her plants for transfer to Raven Hall and although she had worn an apron, her dress’s hem was marred with dirt. She would have to change as well as put her hair to rights.
Entering her bedchamber a few minutes later, she stifled the dread snaking through her. Remembering the ungovernable rage in Henry’s eyes on his last visit was bad enough, but the prospect of listening to a tirade on family responsibility from her sister-in-law was even more daunting.
Thomas, with his usual efficiency, had summoned her maid before informing her of the Clairbornes’ arrival and a new gown had already been laid out.
Jenny stepped forward and began undoing the tapes on the back of Calantha’s bodice. "The packing’s coming along nicely, your grace."
"Yes." Calantha stepped out of her gown, her attention split between the upcoming interview with her in-laws and Jenny’s comment. The packing was coming along surprisingly well, but then it seemed when Jared decided a thing was to be done - it got done quickly. "You won’t mind moving to Raven Hall will you, Jenny?"
"No, your grace. I’m that pleased to see another part of England."
Calantha allowed Jenny to drop a gown of sky-blue muslin over her head. The three-quarter length sleeves, simple straight skirt and square neckline gave it an almost medieval look. "Thomas appears happy with the arrangements as well."
"Yes, your grace. I do believe so, but he’s a dignified one, he is. His granddaughter is happy as can be to move in, and not ashamed to show it. She and her three kiddies were growing out of her little cottage, they were."
Thomas would stay on as butler-caretaker while his granddaughter would move in with him to act as housekeeper and cook on the occasions when Jared and Calantha came to visit his sister at Ashton Manor. Cook had asked to retire, wanting to move to Kent to be with her son and his family. Jenny, the housemaid and t
he lone stableboy would be coming with Calantha to Raven Hall. The groundskeeper, a man even older than Thomas with no family, would stay on to care for the gardens.
And so her upcoming marriage would insure the well-being of those who depended on her.
Jenny pulled the pins out from Calantha’s hair and gave it a swift, expert brushing, making the blonde strands glisten in the early afternoon light. The maid then braided it, wrapping it around Calantha’s head like a coronet. It wasn’t the usual fashion, but it complimented Calantha’s looks.
When dealing with the Clairbornes, the only advantage she had was her angelic looks and Calantha was grateful to Jenny for making the most of them. "Thank you."
Jenny surprised her by reaching out and patting her arm. "It will be all right, your grace. He’ll be’ave with his wife around. You’ll have no need for tea trays and the like today."
Unsure how to handle the reassurance and obvious concern of her maid, Calantha merely nodded.
If only Jared were here.
Not that he was likely to be. After she had agreed to marry him and they had shared that amazing experience in her conservatory, she had seen very little of him. He had given more instructions to her servants than her in the past week.
He, Lord Ashton and Mr. Drake devoted every spare minute to tracking down the blackguard who had tried to kidnap Hannah. Thus far, they had met with no luck.
Hannah’s description had been that of a frightened four-year old and not very precise. Although, she had remembered that the man had a picture of a dragon on his forearm. As identifying marks went, a tattoo wasn’t all that helpful because it would be too easy for a man to pull his shirtsleeves down to hide it, but it was something.
Calantha understood Jared’s preoccupation with the search, but grew increasingly nervous about her upcoming nuptials when he made no effort to be in her company at all. She wasn’t a fool. She realized he did not love her. He was marrying her so he could honorably keep Hannah.
After the incident on the floor in her conservatory however, she had believed he at least desired her. Yet, there had been no indication of it in the days since and she had begun to wonder if she’d imagined Jared’s incredible reaction to her touch. She could not stomach the prospect that Jared might find her cold as a marble statue after all.
It seemed unlikely after the intimacy they had shared, but she readily admitted she had too little knowledge of gentlemen to know how important what they had experienced together would be to Jared.
Perhaps, now that he’d had a chance to consider the matter, he resented his need to marry her. She had tried to think of a solution to their dilemma that did not include a forced marriage between the two of them, without success. Jared had made it clear that in his mind at least, marriage to her was the only honorable way for him to keep Hannah.
She had been unwilling to allow her fear of the married state to rob him of his daughter and she would not allow her fear of him coming to despise her to do it either. She had lived six years under the shadow of fear.
She would not live that way any longer.
***
"Ah, so, you have finally deigned to honor us with your company," Ellen remarked as Calantha entered the parlor a few minutes later.
Her first reaction to her sister-in-law’s unsubtle criticism was to apologize for keeping her and the duke waiting, but Calantha bit back the words. When dealing with a Clairborne, one must think before speaking, she reminded herself. An apology would imply she had done something wrong and give Ellen an edge in the upcoming interview.
Calantha curtsied without lowering her gaze from Ellen’s. "If you had sent word of your impending arrival, I would have made certain I was ready to receive you."
Henry, who had risen from the brocade chair upon her arrival, bowed. Ellen did not rise, but she inclined her head in an arrogant gesture of greeting. She was a good three inches shorter than Calantha, but she held herself with such noble bearing, the disparity in their sizes went unnoticed.
"We did not have time to send word ahead. Indeed, gossip concerning you reached us late yesterday evening and Henry and I rushed down here out of our deep concern for a sister."
Remembering the last concerned visit from her brother-in-law, Calantha remained mute, but she shot Henry a considering look.
He remained standing, waiting for her to take her seat and looking to all the world as if nothing untoward had ever occurred between them. "We’ve heard the most preposterous tale and I tried to assure my wife that it is patently false, but she’s overset and insisted on coming straight down to assure herself of the truth in the matter."
A duchess did not become overset. She might privately grieve or worry, but she did not express those emotions openly, not even before family. Did Henry not realize that pertinent fact? Calantha knew Ellen did. Her sister-in-law did not look in the least discomposed, her patrician features set in their usual dignified lines.
Taking a seat on the settee opposite her in-laws, Calantha asked, "What matter might that be?"
"The matter of your so-called marriage to Lord Beast. I told Ellen you had already set my mind at rest on the matter, but she’s worried about how such a scandalous bit of gossip could have gotten started in the first place."
Again Calantha saw no sign of worry in the other woman’s expression or mannerisms, however Henry sounded angry. Very, very angry.
Calantha found her response to that anger to be defiance, rather than her former instinct to placate. "I imagine it got started when the banns were read this last Sunday or the one before." She watched with interest as both the duke and the duchess grappled with her words.
"The banns have already been read?" Ellen asked faintly, her perfect composure cracking slightly for the first time in their acquaintance.
Calantha nodded.
"Twice?" Henry confirmed, sounding none too steady himself.
"Yes."
"Have you set a date for the wedding?" Ellen asked, her tone a bit stronger.
"We are to be wed a week from today." Calantha still found that fact somewhat overwhelming and made no attempt to soften the truth for her family by marriage.
"That’s impossible," exclaimed Ellen.
"Not at all. The third reading of the banns is scheduled for this upcoming Sunday."
"But there is no way a proper wedding for a duchess can be arranged in such a short time." Ellen sounded truly shocked and Calantha almost pitied her.
"But I will no longer be a duchess. As of a week from today I will be a mere viscountess." That should please her successor to the title of Duchess of Clairborne, almost as much as Calantha herself was pleased by the prospect. The fact that she would never again have to respond to the hated title of duchess or your grace filled her with delight. "I am content with the arrangements."
"Even a viscountess marries with more ceremony than a hurried affair that gives the impression haste is necessary."
Of course. Ellen’s first concern would be with the appearance of the wedding. After all, Calantha was still a Clairborne. The prospect of gossip of the sort she was implying would distress the current Duchess of Clairborne excessively. However, Calantha found the concept that she would be the subject of speculation that she had to marry due to her virtue being compromised almost humorous.
She’d been married two years and the closest she had come to any sort of intimacy had been with Jared...fully clothed and nowhere near a bedroom.
"This is intolerable. As the primary trustee of your funds since my brother’s death, surely I would have been notified when marriage settlements were drawn up." Henry’s face had turned a dangerous shade of red.
Calantha hoped Jenny was right that his wife’s presence would prevent the loss of his temper. She instinctively moved to the edge of the sofa, from which she could stand quickly.
"We haven’t drawn up any settlements. I’m not sure Jared plans to do so."
Shocked, she realized she hadn’t even considered it. She should have
been worried about retaining ownership of her home to guarantee a certain level of independence, but the thought hadn’t even entered her mind. She trusted Jared’s integrity. Hadn’t he agreed to marry a woman he did not love in order to fulfill his obligation to a dead woman? He would surely keep his promises to her.
Besides, her marriage settlements had hardly protected her in Deveril’s death. Henry still controlled her money and in turn, tried to use it to control her.
"A lady does not enter a marriage without first insuring her future and that of her potential offspring," Ellen said.
"As my future was insured by my settlements with Deveril?" Calantha asked with dry sarcasm.
"Exactly," Henry answered for his wife, missing her sarcasm entirely.
"I am content to go without that kind of insurance."
"Then you are a fool." Henry’s voice had risen and Ellen gave him a sharp look. He brought himself under control with obvious effort. "You cannot possibly trust Lord Beast. As soon as you marry, your funds become his. I will have no authority to protect your assets any longer."
Calantha stood and glared down at her brother-in-law. She had no doubt that the only true concern Henry had was over the fact that he would no longer be able to threaten her with a decrease in her allowance to force her to his will.
She didn’t tax him with that truth however, instead focusing on something far more important to her. "You will cease using that awful term to refer to my fiancé or you will leave my home at once."
The tenuous control Henry had on his temper slipped. "How dare you threaten us? You were nothing but the penniless daughter of an unknown clergyman before you met Deveril. You dare to take on airs of importance when you are nothing more than what my brother made you!"
"He made me a duchess," she acknowledged, "but I would have rather married a stableboy than suffer the ugliness of two years as the Duke of Clairborne’s wife."
Henry shot to his feet, his rage palpable in the room and opened his mouth to blast her, but he didn’t get the chance.
