Claiming His Wife (11 page)

Immediately, the taste of
her in his mouth seemed much more vibrant, the memory of her
quivering buttocks danced before his eyes, and the sound of her
moan as he'd teased her pussy filled his ears.  It only took a
few hard strokes of his hand before he was spilling into the
handkerchief, the relief of culmination making his knees feel weak.
 Fortunately, he'd managed to keep from making even the
smallest sound, only the faster pace of his breathing indicated
he'd been doing something illicit.

Glancing over his shoulder again, he
made sure that Grace hadn't moved, and was both relieved and
disappointed to confirm the fact. 

Discarding the handkerchief, Alex made
his way back to the bed, completely nude.  He'd allow Grace to
keep her nightgown as long as she wanted to, but he was no longer
going to be uncomfortable in bed.  Tonight, she'd wanted him.
 He knew she had, even though she'd turned him away.  The
fact that she'd hesitated before doing so gave him hope.

As he crawled into the bed, all too
aware of the proximity of his wife, he wondered what she had meant
by calling him a lying bastard.  Grimacing, he acknowledged
that this was not the time to ask.  If he'd wanted to know, he
should have said something before her spanking.  Because, as
far as he could remember, he'd never lied to her about anything,
ever.

Chapter 5

Cynthia was bored.  Which, in and
of itself, was not unusual, but she did take exception to being
bored when she was at a dance.  Looking wistfully over at the
floor, filled with whirling couples, she wished she were one of
them.  Instead, she was trapped within the Countess' circle,
all of whom wanted to know every detail about the upcoming
wedding.

There were even more of
them than usual to flutter over her, as people had been pouring
into Bath once they'd received their wedding invitations.
 Most of them had made it a stop on their way back to their
estates, following the Season.  Eleanor had told her that the
wedding certainly wouldn't empty the capital, but it would tempt
quite a few of the
ton
 to depart earlier than they normally would.
 Unfortunately, that just meant she had to be at the Countess'
side for what seemed like endless rounds of interminable
introductions and bland, socially acceptable interactions.
 

She glanced over at her
fiancé, who already knew everyone and didn't seem to be held to the
same strictures.  No, he was able to speak with his friends,
visit the refreshments table, and even dance if he wanted.
 Although if he did dance with one more flirtatious beauty,
fresh from London, Cynthia was not going to be responsible for her
actions.  After all his threats about her talking to other
men, she would have thought he'd be more circumspect with his own
attentions.  

Granted, his friends were
also dancing with women other than their wives, but Eleanor and
Irene were also on the dance floor, and the moment the music ended
Edwin and Hugh were back at their sides, reclaiming their women.
 Only Grace wasn't dancing, and that was because Alex was
looming over her and glaring at any man who dared come within two
feet of her.  Going by the increasingly irate expression on
Grace's face, only the fact that they were in public was keeping
her from exploding.  

Really, she should just
accept one of Lord Brooke's many invitations to dance.  It was
obvious that he wasn't going to let his wife dance with another man
until she danced with him first.  Cynthia had even seen the
scowling lord shake his head at Hugh when he'd begun to approach.
 

If only she could do the
same with her own fiancé.

Cynthia scowled at him
across the room, where he was talking with some blonde beauty that
was practically clinging to his - oh... that was Eleanor on his
arm.  Well, that was alright.  But still.  Shouldn't
the Earl have asked his fiancé to dance at least once?
 Perhaps he was too scared to approach the gaggle of women
around his mother, but that didn't mean that Cynthia should have to
pay the price for his cowardice.

"Excuse me, my lady," she murmured to
the Countess, "I must visit the retiring room."

"Of course, my dear, hurry back," the
Countess said, smiling benignly.  She was fully decked out in
all her best clothing, a glittering array of gold and ruby red,
guaranteed to attract attention.  Obviously, she was in alt
over finally having her eldest son about to be married.
 Bemused, Cynthia hurried away, sliding between the ladies and
nodding inanely as she passed.

In her own dress of dark rose pink,
edged with cream, Cynthia knew that she looked quite attractive
tonight.  The color matched her nipples perfectly, which made
her feel wonderfully naughty, even though no one else was aware of
it.  Well, the Earl might be, but he certainly wouldn't say
anything even if he realized.  

As she made her way across the room,
the frustrating man materialized at her elbow.

"Where do you think you're
going?"

Cynthia scowled up at him, not at all
intimidated by his low, threatening voice.  "Anywhere but back
there," she said, jerking her head back towards where his mother
was standing holding court.  The Earl's lips twitched as he
almost smiled.  Ha.  She knew he had a sense of humor in
there, even if he did tend to present his stuffiest side to
her.

Well, stuffy when he
wasn't baring her backside, turning it bright red and then putting
his... well.  Now her own cheeks were starting to match her
dress as she looked up at him.  It wasn't like her to be
easily embarrassed, but she couldn't think about him doing
that
 without
blushing.  

"You, of all people, shouldn't be left
unchaperoned for even a minute," he said, taking her hand and
putting it on his arm.  Since Cynthia didn't actually need to
use the retiring room, she didn't protest.

"Then you can chaperone
me," she said, smiling up at him with such saccharine sweetness
that she knew he'd be suspicious.  She'd noticed that he was
always the most wary of her when she was behaving correctly.
 It set him on edge.  "After all, you seem unable to go
more than a minute without a female on your arm, it might as well
be me."

The Earl's eyebrows raised and a
little gleam entered his eyes.  He really was devastatingly
attractive.  "Jealous?"

"Hardly," she said,
airily, blatantly lying through her teeth.  It had surprised
her, actually, how possessive she felt of him.  The good news
was, she knew that he was just as bad and she intended to use that.
 "There are quite a few gentlemen who would be eager to make
up for your neglecting me."  

They changed direction
with a suddenness that almost made her stumble, but the Earl caught
her with his arm around her waist, his grip tight, as he maneuvered
them towards to the doors to the outside.  Silent, imposing,
and completely in control, he ushered her out into the night.
 The darkness was broken up by the lights throughout the
gardens, a few shadowy figures moving in the distance along the
less well-lit pathways.  Couples, who were searching out
intimacy.

Leading her onto one of
those darker pathways, Wesley was filled with satisfaction that he
no longer had to worry about her reputation.  Betrothed
couples were always given a certain amount of leeway, and with the
wedding day looming so close, they'd be given even more.  No
one would look askance, as long as he married the chit, and Wesley
had no intention of changing his mind about that.  

Wesley knew that once they were
married, the rakes would be hovering... waiting.  His
soon-to-be wife was exactly the kind of treat they'd like to
indulge in, with her sensuous curves and eager passion; if he ever
made the mistake of letting her become a bored matron, they would
pounce.  However, Wesley had no intention of ever allowing
that to happen.  For once, he was fairly certain that Cynthia
was one of the few women in the world who would be able to satisfy
his baser urges and his need to indulge in them on a very regular
basis.

Right now he was suffering, waiting
for their wedding night, but he knew it was going to be worth it.
 Keeping her in line was a full time job; he certainly hadn't
wanted to risk leaving the house to find a willing woman, only to
return and find that she'd run rampant in his absence.
 Although, if he were being entirely truthful with himself, he
would admit that the attractions of other women had paled after
meeting Cynthia anyway.  He wanted her, very badly, and trying
to find a substitute didn't hold any real appeal.  Wesley was
experienced enough with women to know that a substitute never
appeased him.  

Waiting for his wedding
night would be worth it.  

In the meantime, he'd enjoy stolen
moments, like he was about to right now.  Judging the current
pathway they were on to be dark enough that no one would be able to
immediately discern their identities, Wesley pulled her off the
gravel and pushed her up against a tree.  Cynthia squeaked,
but before she could speak or protest, his mouth was on hers in a
possessive, passionate kiss.  A conqueror's kiss, meant to
dominate, to claim.

His senses thrilled as she
softened against him, opening her lips to invite him in, her hands
pressed against his chest but not pushing him away.  Trapping
her, his hands planted firmly on either side of her body, the bark
of the tree digging into his hands, Wesley kissed her with all the
expert knowledge of a degenerate rake.  Cynthia melted against
him; he could practically feel her submission to him as he pressed
his body against hers, his cock digging into the softness of her
stomach.  

Nipping at her full lower lip, he
raised his head slightly, glaring down at her in the dim light.
 

"No other men, baggage," he said, his
voice darkly serious.

Cynthia glared back up at him, not at
all cowed.  "No other women, my Lord," she retorted
tartly. 

"Agreed," he said
immediately, lowering his head again.  "Shall we seal our deal
with a kiss?"

The man knew how to seduce
with his mouth... his tongue... Cynthia moaned as he pressed her
back against the tree, allowing it to hold her up while he made
free with his hands.  The low neckline of her ball gown made
it easy for him to pull her breasts free, resting them on top of
the fabric, so that he could pinch and roll the tender buds between
his fingers.  Whimpering against his lips, Cynthia arched, the
slick folds between her legs aching with envy as he plucked her
rosy, throbbing tips.  She could feel his hardness rubbing
against her and her insides clenched.

Would he ruin her now?
 Finally?

She wasn't sure how she felt about
being ruined in the gardens behind the Assembly Rooms, but right
now her body didn't care.  It craved his touch, the rising
pleasure in her core, and the fire he created in her belly.
 

When he pulled away from
the kiss and put his mouth to her breast, she moaned loudly and he
immediately put his hand over her lips, muffling the noise.
 Eyes wide, she stared at their surroundings, remembering that
they were outside where anyone could walk by and see them.
 Although they might not see her face, it was unmistakable
what they were doing.  Excitement and terror filled her
equally.  

She'd never allowed a gentleman to
take so many liberties with her, because she hadn't wanted to
chance being caught and shaming her family or the Countess.
 If she'd ever thought she could get away with it, she might
have, but before the Earl she'd always had to be worried about her
reputation.  Now, if anyone were to come upon them, Wesley
would be the one blamed, not her.  No one would blame her for
following her betrothed's lead... she wouldn't be ruined... and it
gave her a sense of freedom like she'd never had before.
 

Cynthia almost wanted
someone to walk by, to see Wesley bent over her breasts, to see her
skirts as they slowly slid up her legs... her alabaster skin was
glowing in the moonlight.  It would be shocking.
 Scandalous.  And horribly exciting.

Fingers slid underneath
her skirts, only the Earl's body would keep a passerby from seeing
her completely at this point.  She moaned against his hand,
panting as his fingers slid through her folds, becoming soaked in
her cream.  The Earl moaned too, and bit down on her nipple.
 It was pleasure and pain all rolled into one, and she was
reminded abruptly of the little clips he'd put on her nipples when
he'd last punished her.

As if in remembrance, her bottom
throbbed.  Cynthia writhed against him, rubbing her pussy
against his hand as her passion grew exponentially with each stroke
of his fingers.  She couldn't contain herself, and if he
hadn't kept his hand firmly planted over her mouth, her sensual
cries would have been heard all over the gardens.  Then
Wesley's mouth replaced his hand, his desperate kiss drinking in
her cries as cool night air wafted across her wet nipple and his
fingers shoved inside of her.

Every muscle in her lower
body seemed to clench, all at once, and she felt her clit rubbing
hard against the heel of his hand as he rocked against her,
applying rhythmic pressure against her tender parts.  Cynthia
was on fire, the pleasure building between her legs somehow much
more intense than when she touched herself there.  It was
almost more exciting when it was the Earl touching her, more
pleasurable... his fingers pushed back and forth inside of her,
making her clench around him as her juices dripped over his
hand.