The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“It’s true. I have loved him, Papa, for three years, but now . . . now, I will not even have him as a brother-in-law.”

She looked up at her father, desolation and pain in her fine eyes.

The duke said abruptly, “I just received a letter from your brother. I will tell you the truth, Alex. Even the settlement Tony will doubtless provide won’t save this family. Your brother has left England in disgrace, on his way to America, he writes. He leaves immense debts behind him that will bankrupt me utterly. Even Tony’s settlement, generous though I know it will be, won’t settle the debts. I’ve been wondering what to do, thinking, worrying, struggling, but now . . . ah, now perhaps there is a ray of light.” He turned on his heel and left the library, leaving Alexandra to stare speechlessly after him.

In approximately one hour Tony Parrish and his new viscountess would arrive at Claybourn Hall. She was sulking, enjoying a truly royal snit, he knew, and it made him smile. He’d informed her in no uncertain terms that they had to return to her father’s home, that he had to make things right again. She’d pleaded and begged; she hated her guilt and didn’t want her nose rubbed in it. She’d even cried on his shoulder, immensely beautiful crocodile tears, he’d observed aloud to his new wife, who had then promptly flown into a passion. He’d laughed. Outraged, Melissande had thrown one of her hairbrushes at him but he’d simply thrown it back at her. She was so stunned at his retaliation, she was dumbstruck. He left the room, telling her to be downstairs in ten minutes. Another hairbrush had struck the closing door. She’d come down in eleven minutes and he’d looked at his watch and frowned at her. He said nothing. She had obeyed him. She would accustom herself, in time, to obeying him without scenes and tantrums and without using any extra minutes.

They rode in a private carriage Tony had rented from a stable in Harrogate to take them to Gretna Green. This was the second day of his marriage and in an hour he would have to face his new papa-in-law, who would doubtless want to strangle him. But he had to return. It was the right thing to do. There was no choice. Besides he’d written to the duke that he would return to discuss the marriage settlement and to make amends as best he could.

He smiled at his bride’s altogether lovely profile and didn’t question that he wanted her very much, right this instant. He had but to touch her hand and he wanted her. He had but to hear her voice from another room and he wanted her. He had but to see her flushed with anger and yelling at him and he wanted her. Having her so close to him was more than he could bear.

He turned and said, “Take off your pelisse.”

Melissande was in the throes of guilt, embarrassment, fury with her new husband for treating her with no consideration at all—he’d actually thrown the hairbrush back at her! “What did you say?”

“I said to take off your pelisse.”

“I’m not at all too warm.”

“Good.”

She frowned at him, then unbuttoned the pelisse. He helped her remove it, tossing it to the other seat. He lightly touched his fingertips to her chin, caressing her, holding her head steady. He kissed her, lightly, not parting his own lips on hers.

“Tony!”

“Hush. Now, dear one, remove your bonnet. I can’t kiss you properly with that nonsense on your head. Also it flattens your beautiful hair. Black as the most sinful night, your hair. I want to feel it cascading through my fingers.”

Since his order also contained a very nice compliment, Melissande, mollified, removed her bonnet, tossing it atop her pelisse.

“Now,” Tony said. His long fingers began on the long line of buttons that marched up the front of her gown. She gasped and slapped at his hand. “We’re in a carriage, Tony! It is in the middle of the day! Goodness, you must stop, you can’t do that, you—”

He kissed her again, pulling her onto his lap. His right hand was beneath the hem of her gown, moving up her leg, higher and higher until he touched the bare soft flesh of her inner thighs. She was squirming on his lap, and he knew it was from embarrassment, not coyness. It didn’t matter. He wanted her and he fully intended to take her, right here, in the carriage, with her sitting on his lap, facing him, and he would come deep inside her. He nearly moaned aloud with the thought.

She continued to struggle and he said into her mouth, “You will be quiet now. You are my wife, Melissande, and you will learn, very soon now, that you will obey me. I want you and I intend to have you. I haven’t taken you since last night because you were a virgin and thus sore from that plowing. But you have had time to recover. I will go easily with you. I want to see your breasts, to fondle them, to taste them with my tongue. You will leave your gown on and I will come into you after you’ve lifted your skirts.”

She stared at him in disbelief, so adrift in uncharted seas that she could find nothing to say. The previous evening, she’d felt wicked, truth be told, because of what they’d done. She had shown the damned Earl of Northcliffe that she wouldn’t be ordered about by either him or her father. Tony was lovely; he was gallant; he teased her mercilessly, making her want more. He fascinated her. He was like quicksilver. She’d quickly recognized the strength in him, the male stubbornness, the arrogance that was bred in him, but she’d never doubted that she could handle him. After all, she’d handled every other gentleman who’d chanced to swim into her ken.

He’d introduced her to sex in a very polished way. She recognized, vaguely, that he was immensely experienced but she was unable to appreciate his finesse. She found the entire procedure horribly embarrassing, and the darkness she’d begged for hadn’t slowed him down a bit. He hadn’t hurt her overly much. As for any pleasure from coupling, she sincerely doubted that such a thing existed. She knew that all she enjoyed was compliments and kissing and his wicked smiles, and perhaps the tip of his tongue lightly touching her ear.

And now he wanted to stick that man-thing of his up into her whilst she sat on his lap, fully gowned yet naked whilst he had his way with her, and all in a moving carriage!

“No,” she said very firmly. “I shan’t do that.”

Tony merely smiled, and thrust his fingers upward until they were pressed against her woman’s flesh. She paled then yowled. His right hand busily worked on the buttons over her breasts. She slapped at him, until finally he said in his sternest voice, “You are my wife. How many times must I remind you, Melissande? I know you received little or no pleasure last night. You were a virgin and that is why. You bled and that pleased me. However, I intend to rectify that now. You will accept pleasure from me. You will hold still and stop playing the outraged maiden.”

But she didn’t stop struggling, even when she felt one of his long fingers slide upward into her. She yelled, and he kissed her, hoping the carriage driver hadn’t heard her.

“A delightful virgin, a beauty, and a spoiled handful,” he said, his breath warm on her mouth. “That’s what I married. I’m not complaining, don’t misunderstand me. I had an excellent idea of your character before I ever nibbled that sweet spot just behind your left ear. But I will beat you, you know.”

“You wouldn’t! No, I shan’t allow such a thing! Stop, damn you! Stop doing that!”

“Oh yes, I will beat you,” he said as his thumb found her flesh and he began to fondle her. “And I have no intention of stopping. You will see that I shall do whatever I wish to with you.” She was undoubtedly beautiful, absolutely exquisite, even with her eyes near to crossing in rage, and truth be told, glazed in utter incomprehension, for she’d never encountered his like before. She tried to jerk away from him. He merely removed his hand, pulled up her gown, her petticoats, and her shift, then bent her back so that she was lying across his lap against his arm. She was wearing her black leather slippers and stockings that were just above her knees, held there with black garters. From there on, she was naked to her waist, and he looked down at her and smiled.

“Very nice,” he said only and splayed his fingers over her white belly. “Very nice indeed. I fancy I’ll keep you. Were you a trout I wouldn’t toss you back into the water. No, indeed.”

“You cannot do this, Tony! My father will challenge you to a duel, he will cut your ears off, he will—I’m not a damned fish!”

“Dearest wife, your father wouldn’t dream of telling me, your legal husband, master, owner, and lord, not to give you pleasure. And that is what I will do if you would simply close your quite lovely mouth and attend my fingers.”