When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

It felt as if everything calm in Phoebe’s world was torn asunder. The stroke of his tongue against hers jolted through her body, set her heart pounding, and heated the blood in her veins. He tasted of all the passion she’d once dreamed about, and like fire, whisky, something wicked and delicious. In his touch, she felt the unspoken promise that she would be treasured, and to Phoebe the notion she might yearn for such a commitment from this man, this stranger, frightened her immensely.

Even as she responded to his kiss with flaming hunger and surprised wonder, she wrapped her heart in layers of protective ice, and she knew at that moment just as she must care and protect her child against all harm, she would also have to be diligent in safeguarding her heart from all false expectations.

…

He’d only meant to reassure that he would marry her, for he’d suspected the fears of an uncertain future would keep her awake. Hugh did not expect this—a surge of desire so powerful, the hands cupping her cheeks shook slightly. He was not a man with vast sexual conquests, only having had two lovers previously, but nothing had ever evoked his hunger this quickly or arrested all his senses with just a kiss.

It felt alarming and unquestionably evocative. He could feel the wild flutter of her heartbeat underneath his fingers pressed into the curve of her throat. With an inarticulate murmur, she slipped her hands around his nape and gripped his hair in a fierce clasp. The mound of her belly prevented him from pressing her body closer to his.

Hugh had never been the type of man given to flights of fancy. But the press of her mouth against his felt…as if it was meant to be. Her lips trembled against his, and he felt the shock that went through her when he nibbled along the seam of her lips.

Her kiss was heaven, a taste of sin, and another single shocking truth revealed itself when she gasped, parted her lips on a sigh of want and evident confusion, allowing him deeper.

She had never been kissed. At least not properly…not carnally…not like this.

Another whimper passed from her mouth to his, and he swallowed that small hungry noise, reveling in the beauty of her response. With a gasp, she pulled away from him, and he released her. In her gaze, he saw a similar need and a curl of fright. That bothered him. Passion was a good thing between them, and that should be enough to keep some spark in a marriage that might grow tedious. Especially considering he didn’t expect much to bloom in their union of convenience.

“Kisses are not supposed to feel like that,” she said, pressing the flat of her palm to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were lushly swollen from his kisses. And her golden-brown eyes glowed with heart-stopping vulnerability.

A stunningly powerful rush of tenderness went through him. His fingers leaped to life before he thought. “Then what are they supposed to feel like?” Even though the kisses he’d had before had never been like this, a mere brush of her mouth had him aroused, as if he were once again a lad experiencing his first brush with passion—utter rubbish. With a deep breath, he mastered the fleeting, out-of-control sensation.

“I… Would you like to write it?”

A bite of frustration that he was not able to communicate freely went through him, a feeling he hadn’t had in years. Hugh shook his head and dipped into a short bow. Then he signed good night, turned away, and departed her room, very conscious of her gaze boring into his back.

It was quite unusual to Hugh that he was so aware of her. Even now, as he made his way to the library on the first floor, the taste of her lingered on his tongue, and he could still smell her scent of roses and jasmine. The slight weight of her against his body had been one of the most satisfying feelings he’d ever had. And she was to be his wife.

He entered the library, pleased to see the lamps were still lit and a fire shaved the chill from the large room. Sitting behind the exquisitely carved oak desk, he withdrew a few sheaves of paper, the inkwell and quill. A doctor and the best midwives needed to be summoned to the castle immediately. Hugh didn’t think Lady Phoebe had gotten the right care since her pregnancy began, considering that her mother had been determined to bury it as the most shameful of secrets. A quick letter with the relevant details was penned, folded, and stamped with the seal of the earl.

The keys to handling all his father’s business had been handed to him over two years past. Those in the area and even as far as Edinburgh knew that any letter sent from Glencairn Castle was really his orders. The old earl had stepped back, fully trusting Hugh to run the estates well and profitably. And he had done so, tripling their investment portfolios, investing in the new farming techniques and equipment at this very estate and at two of their estates in England. Their stables of horses and the stud farm he had set up were also among the most renowned in Scotland. He had taken the famed Winthrop wealth and added at least thirty percent to the total in the last few years.

Hugh had worked hard, liaising with stewards and lawyers, traveling to each estate personally to ensure work was done efficiently and profitably. That way, his father could go to his eternal reward secure in his heart that his estates and monies were left in capable hands. He was proud to know their servants and tenants would have an exemplary new lord.

He took up the decanter of whisky on the desk and poured it into a glass that he’d used earlier. Hugh lifted it in a silent toast. And now I am marrying, Father.

It was a daunting notion to face the old earl about his choice, knowing how his father would feel about the decision. Hell.

He knocked back the drink in one long swallow and released a silent breath. Then he reached for another sheaf of paper and penned a letter to a local clergyman several miles from Glencairn Castle. While almost anyone could perform their marriage, under Scottish law, he believed Lady Phoebe would appreciate marrying in the castle’s chapel and by a member of clergy, as was befitting to their ranks.

He quickly wrote the letter inviting the village Kirk to perform the ceremony and sealed it for someone to deliver first thing in the morning. His immediate tasks completed, he stood and went over to the windows, where he tugged the dr

apes open to stare out into the starless sky. A light rain fell against the glass of the bay windows, and lightning forked dramatically across the sky.

There was a nameless restlessness in him. It was because of her, Lady Phoebe, and he did not know why he was unsettled. It wasn’t the idea of fatherhood or the immediacy of it that rattled him. When his mother had left, the twins had only been two years of age, and desperately frightened at the time, Hugh’s young mind had told him he needed to be there to provide his siblings all the reassurance that their mother would not be there to give them.

Is it truly the idea of being a father that makes me feel like this?

Now he had to inform the old earl and hoped he would learn to approve. If not…hell and damnation. What would he do if his father strenuously objected to the detriment of his health?

Would I let you go, Lady Phoebe?

Chapter Six

A distant rumble of thunder echoed in the air. Despite the threat of rain, Hugh suspected the old earl would be in his garden. A place he frequented since learning the failure of his heart was imminent. The doctor’s order that he should remain indoors, especially on a chilled evening such as this one, was often ignored.

Hugh made his way to the lavish and well-tended northern gardens, Wolf padding loyally by his side, disregarding the misting rain. The flowers had a faint sweet scent, made more fragrant by the light raindrops washing over them. He leaned slightly and ruffled Wolf’s hair, still astounded by the amazing twist of fate that had seen his best friend being taken in by Lady Phoebe.

Do you believe in the whimsy of fate or destiny?