The Bride Sale (29 page)

“I thought not,” James said. “Can we also assume there is no close blood relation between you, or affinity by marriage?”

“No,” Gilbert said, and Verity shook her head at James's questioning look.

“Then according to my solicitor,” James said, “the only other grounds are based on litigation. I don't suppose either of you had a precontract of marriage with someone else?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Was either of you under age?” James asked.
“Without written consent of parent or guardian?”

“I was four and twenty,” Gilbert said.

“I was only twenty,” Verity said, “but my father certainly consented. It was his arrangement, after all.”

“That does it,” Gilbert said. “We have no grounds. I'm sorry, Verity.”

“Hold on,” James said. “There is one more remote possibility. My solicitor explained about a tricky loophole in the Marriage Act. Apparently, if it can be proved that any information in regard to name or age was incorrect on the license or in the banns—even the slightest and most inadvertent misspelling or error—it can be used as grounds for nullity.”

“I have a copy of the license here,” Gilbert said and reached into his coat pocket. He gave a sheepish grin when he saw the astonished looks on their faces. “I thought you might object to my taking Verity away,” he said to James. “I wanted evidence that I had the legal right to do so.”

“Let us see it, then,” James said, and Gilbert unfolded the document and laid it on the table.

Verity bent down to read it. She remembered signing the church register after the wedding, but had never seen the license. Those details had been taken care of by her father.

What she read caused her breath to catch in her throat. “Dear God, do you see?” She stabbed her finger at the parchment. “It says I was twenty-one, but I was five months short of that age.”

Oh, Papa
. For once her father's absentmindedness had been a boon instead of a maddening eccentricity. The poor man could never remember birthdays or
anniversaries or church holidays. He even had to be reminded of Christmas each year, as though it were unexpected.

He must have assumed Verity was twenty-one because she would be so at some point in 1816. He simply could not remember the precise date.

Tobias Osborne had survived his daughter's marriage by only two months. He never knew how badly it had turned out, and she had always been grateful for that. It would have broken his heart. How perfect that it should be her dear scatterbrained Papa who just might set her free.

V
erity paced the length of the small bedchamber, unable to bank the excitement that stirred her blood. Another strange and unexpected twist in the road faced her, but this time she did not fear it. She did not have to steel herself against some unknown fate. This time, fortune was on her side. She was going to be free at last of the marriage bonds with Gilbert, free to make a new life, to make her own choices, to find her own happiness. It would take some months, apparently, but in the end she would be free.

Her heart sang with new possibilities.

A soft rapping on the bedchamber door caused her to turn in time to see James enter.

“He's gone,” James said and closed the door behind him. “He can find another inn in this village or
the next. I suppose it was harsh, but I wanted him gone.” He stepped close to Verity and took both her hands in his. “So much has happened. How do you feel about it, my dear?”

“Elated. Ecstatic. Free!” A gurgle of laughter bubbled up from her throat. She gave a wordless shriek of pure delight, then threw her head back and laughed.

“I'm free! I'm really free!” She flung her arms wide and wanted to soar like a bird. “I'm free!”

Suddenly she was swept up into James's arms, and he swung her around and around, laughing with her. They laughed and twirled until she was breathless. When he finally set her feet back on the ground, she felt dizzy and giddy and perfectly wonderful. She could not seem to stop smiling. She was glad for his hands at her waist for she might have collapsed to the floor without their support.

“Oh, James,” she said between breaths, “you do not know what this means to me. You do not know how…Oh, it is the most wondrous thing. You cannot possibly understand, but oh, James, I don't believe I've ever been so happy in all my life.”

“Verity. My sweet Verity.” He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her.

Gently at first, his lips moving over hers, tasting, testing, teasing. She felt dizzy again, this time from the taste of him, the musky smell of him, the softness of his lips that always surprised her. Boldly, shamelessly, she moved her lips beneath his.

He groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss, clasping her more tightly against him, one hand sliding down from her waist to her bottom, pressing
her hard against him. He pushed her lips open with his own and filled her mouth with his tongue, stroking and stroking in a way that set off a strange fluttering down deep between her legs.

Verity did not know what it all meant and did not care and did not want to think about it just now. She gave herself up to the sheer sensuous pleasure of his lips and tongue and arms and body. She was lost to him.

His mouth left hers and began trailing kisses down the length of her neck and underneath her jaw. Verity threw her head back to give him better access and he took advantage.

She wanted this man, desperately wanted him. And she wanted him to want her. When he coaxed her to suck on his tongue as it stroked her mouth, she complied willingly. She would do just about anything to make him desire her. If only just this once.

She lost all sense of time, but they seemed to kiss and kiss forever. When James finally lifted his head and looked down at her, they were both breathless and panting.

“There are no more rooms available,” she said between breaths. “Did you know? You will have to…to stay here.”

“I know,” he said and stroked her cheek with the back of a finger. “That is why I sent Russell away. It did not seem right to make love to his still-legal wife under the same roof.”

“Are you going to make love to me?”

“If you will let me, I would like nothing better.”

“Oh.” Verity closed her eyes and thought she must be in a dream. He really wanted to make love to her?
Even knowing how it would be? “Are you sure?”

He pulled back slightly, gazed down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and smiled. “I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I want you. I've wanted you for a very long time.”

“Oh, James. You know how it will end.”

“I hope I do, but I don't think you do. I promise to do a better job of it this time. Will you make love with me, Verity?”

“Yes.” He could not possibly want it more than she did. “Oh, yes. Yes!”

James smiled at her eagerness, then kissed her again. He wanted nothing more than to let her know how desirable she was. He wanted to undo all the damage Russell's behavior, and his own, had done to undermine her self-confidence. Though his body wanted to take her now with swift, hot lust, he was determined to make love to her slowly, to arouse her with lips and tongue and touch and words, to convince her beyond doubt of his desire.

James buried his face against her irresistible neck and began to nibble and kiss while he twisted a hand into her hair, flinging pins in every direction until it fell loose. He lifted the full weight of it in his hands and ran his fingers through its thick, soft length.

He then began on her dress, kissing every exposed inch of skin as he untied the tapes in the back. She gave a slight groan when his lips trailed lower, to the shoulder he exposed when he pushed aside the neck of her dress. She smelled faintly of lavender and her skin tasted warm and clean. He wanted to devour her. To forget all the complications and past histories of both their lives and bury himself inside her.

He deftly undid the tiny buttons at the front of her bodice and plunged his hand inside, covering her full breast with his palm. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed against his hand. God, he was ready to explode, but he would take it slow. Very slow.

He kissed her mouth while he stroked her breast, and she melted against him. When he lifted his head, he gently pushed the open dress over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He drank in the sight of her in nothing more than a chemise and corset, full breasts spilling out above the stays, while he swiftly divested himself of coat, waistcoat, and cravat. He turned her back to him while he unlaced her corset and let it drop to the floor, leaving only the chemise. Turning her back to face him, he kissed her mouth while he stroked her soft, unconfined breast, and she melted against him again. When he lifted his head, he gently pushed the chemise down her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“Oh!” Verity stiffened and made a movement to cover her nakedness, but James took her hands away and held them at her side.

Her thick dark hair spilled over one shoulder, in sharp contrast to the creamy white smoothness of her skin. She was perfectly formed, softly rounded and full bosomed, so unlike Rowena's delicate slenderness. He held on to her hands and drank in the sight of her, his gaze lingering on the ripe breasts, the small waist, the flaring curve of hip, and the thatch of dark curls lower down. Verity kept her eyes downcast as though ashamed.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

She looked up at his words. “You don't have to say that, James. I know I am not—oh!”

He had stopped her words by bringing his mouth down to her breast. He suckled and circled the hardened nipple with his tongue while he stroked her buttocks with his hands. Verity squirmed and made little whimpering sounds, her own pleasure firing his desire. She brought a tentative hand to his head and stroked his hair while he laved her breast.

After James had given equal attention to the other breast, he straightened and tugged the shirttails from his pantaloons. Then he lifted the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He scooped Verity up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

Verity's body hummed with new sensations as she watched James remove his pantaloons and stockings. She had never seen a fully naked man—not even Gilbert—except in pictures of Greek statues. James was certainly as magnificent, tall and lean and well-muscled. There was not an inch of softness about him. Instead of the smoothness of marble, though, his chest was furred with dark hair. She longed to run her fingers through it.

James stood beside the bed in all his naked glory, and Verity's gaze followed the path of dark hair that arrowed down his flat belly. She gasped at the sight of his fully erect penis. Good God, no wonder there had been pain. He was too big.

Any such misgivings flew right out of her mind when James lay down beside her, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her. The sensation of his solid chest pressed against her soft breasts, his furred flesh
against her smooth skin, was an indescribable pleasure. He deftly untied her garters and inched her stockings down her legs, his lips following the silk, kissing each new inch of bare skin, even taking her toes into his mouth, creating sensations that made her want to scream with pleasure.

Fully naked now, she felt her skin tingle and flush as his hands moved over her body, working magic with each caress. Desire tightened deep inside her, becoming an almost unbearable ache. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulders, teasing her breasts once more, and dipping further to the tender flesh beneath her breasts, to her abdomen and stomach. The dull, throbbing ache inside her became more intense, almost painful.

“So beautiful,” he murmured over and over until she almost believed him.

Verity allowed her hands to move over him, tentatively at first, but then more boldly when he whispered his pleasure in her ear. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders and back, and lower, to the swell of his buttocks. James groaned at her touch and rolled on top of her.

He nudged her knees apart and she felt his erection against her thigh. He took her mouth in a passionate kiss that left her quivering with need. His hand moved down the slight swell of her belly and pushed through the curly hair between her legs.

“Oh, my God,” she groaned and writhed beneath him. His fingers kept moving until his thumb discovered a point of pleasure she had not known was there. She shuddered and choked back a scream when he began to rub the hot, wet flesh. He whispered words
of desire in her ear, but she barely heard. She clung to him, thrashing restlessly, all her concentration on the extraordinary way he was making her feel.

“Please,” she said, not knowing what she begged for. “Please.”

James spread her legs further apart with his knees and pushed his rigid sex against her. She tensed, steeling herself against the pain that was to come. He raised himself on his elbows and looked deep into her eyes, then entwined his fingers with hers on either side of her head. Keeping his gaze locked to hers, with one slow, smooth thrust, he pushed himself inside her.

James stilled himself and watched her face. For a moment she had looked like she was preparing for a tooth extraction. He held tightly on to her hands, knowing she was afraid. Now her eyes widened with wonder. He smiled down at her and squeezed her fingers. “No pain?”

“No,” she whispered, drawing out the word as though she couldn't believe it. “No.”

He kissed her. “Good. Now let me love you properly.”

He began to move slowly, to give her time to adjust to the process, to realize there could be pleasure where there had once been only pain. He released her hands and put his beneath her bottom. He set up a rhythm and used his hands to teach her how to follow, rotating her hips in opposition to his thrusts.

She learned quickly and seemed to give herself over to her body's natural response. She moaned and writhed and bucked beneath him. He could feel the tension building in her and understood it better than
she did. When her breathing became quick little pants and he sensed her climax was near, he reached down between them and stroked the sensitive bud of flesh he'd teased earlier. She jerked spasmodically and called out his name. James held her tightly as she shuddered beneath him, and only then did he finally relinquish his own control, driving hard and fast and deep until his own climax ripped through his body, leaving him spent and sated and more satisfied than he'd ever been in his life.

They lay together for a long moment, panting and slick with perspiration, James's full weight collapsed atop Verity. She didn't notice. She savored the lingering aftereffects of what had just occurred between them, the incredible things he'd done to her, that amazing explosion of sensation when she thought she might shatter to pieces. He'd made her feel beautiful and desirable, something she had never thought possible. Oh, how she loved him for it. A sting of tears built up behind her eyes.

She lifted her languorous arms and draped them around his shoulders. “Oh, James,” she said, unable to keep a tremor from her voice, “I didn't know. I didn't know it could be this wonderful.”

He lifted his head and used a thumb to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye. He kissed her tenderly, and Verity could no longer hold back the tears. James rolled off her, pulled her onto her side, and wrapped his arms tightly about her. “I know,” he said as he held her. “I know.”

“No, you d-don't,” she said, blubbering through her tears.

“Hush, my love.” He continued to hold her tightly until she gained control of herself.

“You don't understand,” she said at last. “I thought there was something…something wrong with me. That I could never have a physical relationship with a man. I thought I was not…normal. But now…I think I must have been wrong. All this time, I must have been wrong.”

James kissed her. “It was never you, Verity. There is nothing at all wrong with you.” His hand dipped down to briefly stroke her breast. “Nothing at all.”

Verity was so overcome by this revelation she was almost unable to breathe. Of all the astonishing events of the last day—Gilbert's arrival, James's rescue, the possibility of an annulment, this exquisite lovemaking—nothing affected her as profoundly as this new knowledge that she was not, after all, defective in some way, undesirable to men.

The notion had so colored her perception of who she was, it had become a permanent element of her being. To discover she had been wrong was literally breathtaking. How might her life had gone differently if only she had known the truth?