An Improper Wife (11 page)

There had to be a way to keep him from her bed—this night and forever. She tensed against the ache that gripped her at the thought of never again touching him. What choice did she have? Lord Blackhall wasn’t a man who would stand for being cuckolded—even if he was the man doing the cuckolding. He would despise her. How would she live with a man who hated her?

Caroline stilled at a thought. Perhaps Taran would accept a settlement in return for an annulment. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Surely a year’s salary would be enough to pull the estate from ruin while he sought another, more agreeable, wife. Uncle would balk, but with Taran in control of her fortune—her heart sank. Why settle for twenty-five thousand pounds, when he already controlled a fortune well beyond that if he managed the money well? He had two sisters to care for and a father who had determined long ago nothing short of a rich heiress would do for his son.

The new fear that had plagued her all day surfaced. Lord William Edmonds, Viscount of Thornhaven, was a close friend of her husband, and the domino she had dallied with at the masque. The moment he’d spoken, she’d recognised his voice. Her stomach sickened. Over and over, she had replayed their meeting outside her uncle’s townhouse, and had detected no hint of recognition in his manner. Even now, he may have realised who she was. Would he inform Taran of her deception, or demand payment for his silence?

Once the marriage was
officially
consummated, once she bore Taran a child, there would be no turning back. If Lord Edmonds exposed her—

The door swung open.

Caroline shrieked, ducking deeper in the tub and sloshing water over the sides. Taran stood in the doorway, the tailored riding coat and breeches he had worn for the journey replaced by a simple shirt and front breeches.

Her gaze caught on the swelling bulge of his groin and she jerked her gaze back to his face. “I—I will be but a moment longer.”

Amusement twitched at a corner of his mouth. “You will prune.” He stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

She glanced at the swirling water surrounding her. Her breasts bobbed and a dark triangle of hair shadowed between her legs. Places he’d touched, explored and, as her husband, had a right to touch as often as he pleased. Fear clawed at the thin layer of her composure.

“Please, my lord,” she whispered.

He stepped into the room and crossed to the bed while unbuttoning his shirt. “I promise, that will not be the last time you whisper those words tonight.”

“I am not sure this is the right time.”

“It is the perfect time. You are here and already undressed.”

“Such consideration,” she snapped.

“I promise to be a very considerate husband.” He paused in unbuttoning the last button and looked at her. “You have nothing to fear, Caroline. I know you have not had a mother’s instruct—”

“I am aware of what happens between a man and a woman.”

His gaze bore into her for an instant and fear shot to the surface before he finally looked away and undid the last button. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and Caroline barely stifled a gasp. In the carriage she had felt him, touched him, but without light, she had been unable to fully grasp his perfection. He stood before her now, his broad chest flexing as he reached for the tie on his breeches.

Her cheeks heated with memory of his powerful arms when he’d anchored her to his lap and his thighs as they’d thrust and flexed, plunging his cock deep into her core. He had been hers for a night. And she must make him believe in her purity.

“Are you not hungry, my lord?”

“Supper can wait.” He sat on the bed, grabbed the heel of one boot, and tugged.

“I am famished,” Caroline went on. “If you give me moment, I will dress, and meet you downstairs in the dining room. A hearty supper and some claret will do us good after the long day’s travel.” Plenty of claret, she silently added. She needed him drunk—one way or another.

He paused, a brow raised. “Claret, madam? What would your uncle say?”

She started to reply that she didn’t give a damn what her uncle thought, then recognised the amusement in Taran’s eyes. He returned his attention to his boots and Caroline jumped with the thud of the first boot dropping onto the carpet beside the bed. He reached for the second one, arms flexing with the effort. Her mouth went dry. She was too eager to have those arms around her again. Dear Lord, what was this power he had over her body? Taran pulled the second boot free and dropped it alongside its mate, then rose. Her heartbeat fluttered when he crossed to her and squatted beside the tub.

“Do you fear our joining so much that you would avoid me altogether?” he asked.

The weight of his stare rolled over her flesh. She drew in a shallow breath in an effort to slow her pounding heart. Never had she felt so exposed, vulnerable, afraid of the truth.

“The fear, my lord, is that once our marriage is consummated there is no undoing what is done.”

He dipped a finger into the water and traced a line over the swell of her breast. “A futile concern, Caroline. We have said the vows. There is no retreat.” He drew a gentle circle around her puckered nipple.

She shivered. “But…but what if I am not what you expect?” Her heart whispered
what if I am more?

“You are already unexpected.”

“Unexpected—” Caroline stiffened.

His attention remained on the nipple he traced. “While I concede you will more likely than not”—a corner of his mouth turned upward—“vex me during the course of our marriage, I am not displeased.”

His gaze slid upward to her face and he stared for a long moment. He threaded his fingers beneath the damp hair at the nape of her neck. Heat from his hand sizzled on her flesh. With a gentle tug, he pulled her close. A puff of breath escaped his lips. Closer. She could scarcely breathe. His breath fluttered against her lips.

“My lord,” she whispered as his mouth came down on hers.

Gentle pressure parted her lips and his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Slanting his head, he sealed their mouths. Tongue rubbed against tongue. He tasted of aged brandy, and the intoxication of his kiss seeped into her blood—into her body.

At least in the bath, he couldn’t see how wet she was for him. A steady pulse throbbed in her sex and tingles tightened her nipples, chasing into the hidden knot of nerves waiting for his touch, the touch of his mouth. But, tonight, she entered his bed as wife, not lover. Uncertainty dug deeper in her stomach. How differently would he treat her as Lady Blackhall? The courtesan of last night had received the full scope of his desire. As wife, she wanted that and more.

Taran trailed a hand from her neck, along her spine and dipped into the water, downward over the swell of her hip while he cupped her breast with his other hand and grazed her nipple with a thumb.

Caroline pulled away from the kiss. “My lord.”

She lifted a hand dripping with water and braced the palm against his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but froze at the feel of the wall of muscle beneath her fingers. Last night in the carriage, she’d learned his body by touch, but seeing what she had touched brought with it a dizzying sensation that compelled her to explore every inch of him. Unlike the soft, plump bodies of most men of privilege, Taran’s lean, hard body spoke of a man who asked for nothing, but worked for every gain. She frowned at the sight of a jagged scar on the left side of his abdomen, near the middle ribs.

“What is this?” Caroline touched the scar.

He sucked in breath. She yanked her hand back, her gaze lifting to his face. His copper eyes blazed. He grasped her hand and her attention fixed on the action as he pressed her palm to the scar. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and warmth seeped clear to her bones.

“A slip of the sword,” he said.

Her head snapped up. “My lord?”

“The scar.”

A slip of the sword? Whose, a disgruntled husband, or some young buck who dared challenge a calmer hand? How many dawn appointments had this man faced? Had she miscalculated when she’d said Uncle would defeat him in a duel?

She startled at the brush of fingers on her breast beneath the water. His stare remained locked with hers as he touched her. She flushed, the water suddenly cold. How was she to endure the agonising pleasure and not leap from the bathwater and onto him?

He leant forward and rested his forehead against hers. “Caroline, I am no brute. Sharing a bed can bring us both pleasure.”

How could she answer? A wife’s place was not to question her husband’s past liaisons, but the forbidden knowledge she possessed as Aphrodite confirmed the truth of his words. Determination rose. She wouldn’t let a fantasy of a woman who didn’t truly exist occupy Taran’s thoughts. Not tonight. When he plunged his hard, beautiful cock into her, he would know the woman in his arms was real.

She jammed her eyes shut.
Fool
, such liberties were not hers to take. He could never know her as he had Aphrodite, not now, not ever. A mental picture rose of their lives fifteen years into the future, his sudden recognition and hatred, that loathing reflected in their son’s eyes as the father’s revulsion seeped into every aspect of their lives.

“Do not fear,” he whispered near her mouth.

Caroline jarred from the morbid vision and gave a small cry when he kissed her again. The hand on her hip tightened almost convulsively, then wrapped around her back. He slipped his other arm beneath her knees and lifted her from the water.

Caroline squeaked and threw her arms around his neck. Water streamed onto his chest and arms, soaking his breeches and leaving a trail across the floor as he strode to the bed. She shivered, the chilled room a stark contrast to the warm, contoured torso that pressed into her breasts and hip.

He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. “Kiss me, sweet.”

She blinked in surprise. He stared, the dark eyes intense, but pleading for something, anything, to show she wasn’t without feeling…wasn’t the cold bitch John had said she was. Understanding hit with the force of a gale wind. This man was nothing like John. John would have given no thought to the fact she despised his touch. He would have bedded her until the required heir was produced, then left her a dry husk, never again to be touched or considered.

But Taran had no taste for life with a woman who hated him. Love was not a requirement, but neither was loathing an option. If she didn’t give herself to him, he would believe she hated him. Until last night, she had. He deserved better than she would have given John. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. He must never know the truth. She had to get to the vial hidden beneath the mattress and empty it onto the sheets before he awoke in the morning.

Caroline tightened her arms around his neck and inched forward until her lips brushed his. He opened his mouth opened and his tongue snaked between her lips. His gentle but determined thrusts against her tongue set her heart to pounding. God help her, she wanted him. How many more nights could she have with him before this house of cards fell in on her…before he grew tired of her and sought another woman? Her heart twisted. Better another woman than his hatred. She sank into the kiss, drinking in his essence. Never in her wildest dreams had she conceived this moment possible. Her masked lord held her close, sweeping her into a vortex of carnal cravings.

Arms tight around her, Taran sat on the edge of the bed, settling her on his thighs. She gasped at the feel of his erection against her hip and the pull of awareness travelled from her nipples into the hotness between her legs. He broke the kiss and trailed a finger along her face, feathered his touch along the column of her neck and over her shoulder.

He bent his head and closed his mouth over a nipple. Caroline bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep from moaning. Despite the pleasure that slipped through her veins, melting her from the inside, she would give herself to him as the expected virgin. His velvet tongue curled around the nipple. She squeezed her thighs against the burgeoning need that rose between her legs. Wet heat rolled over her breast. Answering warmth slicked her thighs. He would know how she responded, just as she could feel his arousal, hard and erect in his breeches, prodding into her hip.

He shifted and set her on the bed, then stood and stared down at her, eyes dark with desire. Her breath caught. Here was the man from last night, filled with lust.

Tucking his thumbs into the sides of his breeches, he pushed them past lean hips. His broad shoulders, tapered torso, and strong thighs held her mesmerised. And his cock. Long, thick, and fully erect, thrust towards her. Dark curls circled the base and trailed up over his groin. Silvery liquid leaked from the slit in the rounded knob. Her mouth watered, yet she knew she could never again taste him in that way.

He sat on the mattress and began shoving the breeches from his legs. Caroline scrambled to the centre of the bed. With a hard tug, she pulled the coverlet from the pillows and dived beneath the blanket. The crisp sheets chilled her, but did nothing to stop the steady thrum that pulsed in her pussy. She was wet and her internal muscles clenched with the desire to have his cock deep inside. Caroline swallowed, thankful his back was to her. Her only doubt was her ability to hide her response to him.

Taran stood and faced her, giving her full view of all that made him perfectly male. “I cannot promise there will be no pain.”

He seemed to stumble over the words. Perhaps because only last night he’d whispered a similar sentiment to another virgin?

“I am strong.” She winced inwardly at the schoolgirl words. Even last night, when she had been a true virgin, she’d had no fear of this man.

He braced one knee on the bed and cupped her cheek. “Do I frighten you?”

Yes
, her heart cried, but she only nodded.

He leant forward and touched his lips to hers. Caroline silently cursed the tremble in her mouth, then realised he would mistake the action for trepidation, not desire. Praise heaven for small favours. Now if she could just keep from grabbing his cock and shoving it inside her, she might yet convince him she hadn’t tasted him before this night.