The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

When the gown gaped open, he took a step back. “There,” he said. “You’re free of it.”

She turned to face him. He didn’t move. There was no screen in the bedchamber. “I have to change now, Marcus. Would you please leave me for a while?”

“No. But I will get in bed.”

She stared at him, words shoved together into a meaningless mass i

n her throat. She watched him walk to the bed set on its foot-high dais, watched him walk in his bare feet, big feet that were really quite beautiful, watched him pull the covers back, unsash the dressing gown, shrug it off, and naked as a black-haired god, climb into the bed. He pulled the covers to his waist, fluffed the pillows behind his head, and settled himself. Now he watched her.

She wasn’t stupid. He wanted to have sex with her. But still there were no words in her mouth or in her mind. Her mind was filled with the sight of him, standing there, for just an instant really, shrugging off that dressing gown, showing her his long muscled back, his man’s flanks, his man’s buttocks and long, thick legs. She swallowed. She supposed she’d considered this, but not really, not to this point, not to where he was actually in her bed, and he was awake and sober and appeared to want this. To want her.

She felt a surge of hope. She stared at his chest with its mat of thick black hair, at the obvious strength and power of him and said, “You want me to be your wife now, Marcus?”

He merely smiled at her and crossed his arms behind his head. “Get undressed, Duchess.”

Slowly, she pulled the gown off her shoulders, eased it past her hips, and let it drop to a soft pool of blue silk at her feet. She slid her hands beneath her chemise and pulled the dark blue garters down her legs and unrolled her stockings. She kicked off her slippers and pulled the stockings off her feet. Dressed only in her chemise, she stepped out of the clothing and walked slowly toward the bed.

“You didn’t want me before,” she said, stopping a foot from the dais. Her black hair fell and framed her face, a face now very pale in the dim light. Maggie her maid had been right. The contrast of all that sinful black hair against the white flesh of her arms and legs and the pure white of her chemise was starkly beautiful. She was exquisite, this wife of his who had drugged him and married him while he was in a stupor and who had come to his bed and made him take her virginity so that he couldn’t, in a state of enraged stupidity, if he could have ever been that abysmally stupid, annul the marriage.

“True,” he said, “but I’m a man. Since you are my wife and have no say in the matter, I might as well avail myself of you. It’s certainly more convenient than riding into Darlington and finding a comely wench there to see to my pleasure. Not that I’ll gain much pleasure from you, but I’ll make do. I’m not that bad off, so even a modicum of pleasure will suffice me. Now, come here. I want that chemise off you.”

“But you said you didn’t want a child from me. You said you would gain vengeance against my father by not allowing a child of mine to inherit the earldom.”

“That is what I said. I meant it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Undoubtedly you don’t, but you will soon enough. I do ask that you not cry or moan or whimper when I take you, Duchess. If you must lie there like a piece of silverware, then I will make do, but no sounds, if you please.”

“You won’t call me Lisette, will you?”

He laughed, not a very pleasant laugh. “Oh, indeed not. But perhaps I will call you Celeste.”

She paled even further, flinching deeply, but none of it showed in her face, for it was all inside her. She didn’t move. “You were only in London for a single night.”

“Yes. So?”

“This Celeste person, you were with her for just that one night?”

“Yes. She was quite talented. Not so much as Lisette, but she’s from Bristol where there were naught but rough seamen to practice on. Doubtless it will take her another year or so to perfect her skills. Her breasts were quite impressive. I couldn’t hold them and my hands are quite large. Not that it mattered really. Now, come here, Duchess.”

There was pride, after all, and he’d just pushed her beyond what she could excuse, beyond what she could bear. “No, Marcus. I don’t think so.” No, she couldn’t bear any more of it, not another word. She turned on her heel, her bare heel, grabbed her dressing gown from the end of the bed, and walked quickly to the door, jerking on the dressing gown as she went. Her hand was on the doorknob when she felt him behind her, touching her, his right hand over her head against the door. She tried to jerk it open but it didn’t budge.

He leaned down, his left hand lifting her hair and he kissed the back of her neck.

She stood very still, her dressing gown loose about her for somehow, somewhere, the sash had disappeared. He blew his warm breath against her ear and gently nibbled the lobe.

She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. She was holding her breath.

Very gently, he turned her around, laced his hands beneath her hips and lifted her. He carried her to the bed and laid her on her back. He stood above her, naked, but she didn’t look at him, she couldn’t, she was too frightened and far too excited. She was aware of his size, his power, the way be filled her vision, if she would but look at him. He didn’t say anything. He jerked the dressing gown off her, then turned and smiled. “Now the chemise.”

He lifted her hips and jerked it up to her waist, then pulled her upright, bringing her face against his chest, and tugged it over her head.

He eased her back down and stretched himself out next to her on his side. He didn’t touch her, just looked at her face.

“So cold, so contained,” he said, then stroked her hair from her forehead and back from her ears. “It is what a man expects from a wife, who is also a lady, I suppose. It is considered well-bred to be cold and contained, having no ill-bred feelings to betray any bodily pleasures. But still it is a disappointment. You have very nice ears, Duchess.” He kissed her ear, his tongue tracing its outline.

She sucked in her breath, but held herself perfectly still.